Whenever I have moved to a new location, there are a few landmarks that need to be ironed out before comfort can be found. Once I know where to get groceries, go running, find people, and go to church, I’m pretty well set.

Well, we have now been in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin for about 3 years and we had found all but a church as of about a year ago.

Churches are a funny thing. It’s kind of like trying to find a favorite restaurant. You don’t really know what you want until it’s right there in front of you. And sometimes, the food is great, but the service is so horrible that it doesn’t matter. Or even worse, the people there are great, but the food lacks flavor to the point that it’s not even a restaurant. (see what I did there?)

The worst part is that we actually found a great church. We were as active as we could be considering our unique situation of living at a camp. We even were active in a small group and helped lead the youth ministry for a time. But then it happened.

When gas prices went through the roof, it became a difficult decision. Driving 40 minutes each way to a church multiple times a week became not only a drain with two small children, it also became a drain on our finances. So in came some doubt…

For some reason we decided to renew the church search. We went to several churches and I even had myself convinced that I found a better church that was closer.

Week after week we went to this new church and it was okay…but it was never home. I never felt that my faith was intertwined and being refined by those around us. It wasn’t their fault, it just wasn’t happening.

So we went back to our original church. And it was home. Again.

It’s amazing how familiar and comfortable good fellowship feels. It’s the same way with my closest friends. Even if I only see them once a year, it feels like they came to my house in a Delorean with Doc Brown riding shotgun. Nothing has changed. It’s astounding.

In the parking lot on Sunday I confessed to our pastor that I had my “prodigal son moment” of churches and hopefully it was over now. His reaction was straight out of the Bible story as he smiled and honestly was pleased that we came back.

I just wish we didn’t have to leave to realize how great we have it.

I never realized we had a lion and a monkey named “Crumbley” living in our house. Well, I never realized it until our 2 year-old daughter told us so.

It started out innocent enough. As we took a walk to the mailbox (a daily walk that takes anywhere from 5 to 25 minutes depending on how distracted our daughter is) I watched as our daughter looked behind us and motioned forward saying “come on. Come on buddy.”

Now this would be standard fair if we had a dog. Heck, I’d even settle for a pet chipmunk. But we don’t. We don’t even have a pet turtle anymore. So I’m not really sure where she got this instinct to encourage something to follow. And more importantly, there was no one (human, animal, or otherwise) for her to talk to.

And then it dawned on me. Leah has an imaginary friend.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Monkey.”

“What’s your monkey’s name?”

“Crumbley.”

Crumbley the monkey shows up at the house from time to time now. I’ll pick him up and carry him along to brush our teeth. I set him down carefully on the top of the toilet tank where Leah knowingly looks at him and smiles.

As crazy as this would sound if she wasn’t a creative 2 year-old, it made me think about my relationship with God. I wondered if my knowing and faith that God would take care of me and my family just looks like a make-believe monkey named “Crumbley” to those around me.

Odds are, it does at times. Without explanation, faith in anything looks crazy. When I walked away from a great career to do ministry at a camp, my coworkers thought I was an idiot. Heck, when I lose my faith, I think I was an idiot.

At the end of the day though, my faith is also my happiness. When I get to see kids and adults come to this place and discover something greater than themselves who loves and cares for them, that is the purpose of my life. That is the moment when I look at the little monkey sitting on top of the toilet tank and smile at something so many other people miss.

For the past few months, my family and I have been volunteering with the youth group at our church. For most part it is a great experience, but the depth of our spiritual discussion is really limited.

The church we attend is definitely a seeker-friendly church. The congregation is largely brand new Christians which in turn leads to brand new Christian kids in the youth group. Actually, in most cases, I’m not even sure half of the kids are Christians.

This is by no means a bad thing. As a Christian, I am excited to have the opportunity to disciple new Christians. At least I would be if they were receptive to the message.

The last couple times our pastor has shared really relevant topics it has been a battle. Every point becomes a debate as we look at such basic ideas like the blatantly sexual and derogatory lyrics in popular music, the idea that God doesn’t punish us for our sin, or even the dangers of a lack of boundaries in a dating relationship.

While I have credited a majority of this debate to kids searching for their independence, it is still troublesome. This week I am going to be sharing with the youth and I’m tossing around several ideas for topics. I keep coming back to one though.

Proverbs 2 is a simple story of the importance of wisdom and how to accept it. I know it’s probably a stretch for junior high kids to get it, but at this point, I need them to realize they are missing the point. My other option is as my blog title suggests, that I remind them of the parable of the soils. No one likes to hear they are the hard, unaccepting soil, but the truth will hopefully open their hearts to what we are trying to share with them.

It’s amazing how fast kids learn stuff. Leah now knows what a football is, can identify it on TV, knows who the Packers are and is well aware that “Dad watch football.” She’s a smart one. A little too observant at times, but still smart.

Today was a rather long day for a day off. Having two kids who are pretty congested and sick in general that it is hard to get any sleep let alone sleep in. Thankfully my wonderful wife did allow me to sleep in until 9 after getting up at 6 with Leah.

Tonight we went to drop some food off for friends of ours who just had their first baby. Then we went grocery shopping and to help out at the youth ministry at church. I am in charge of the games each week, so this week I pulled out the classic “Sock-head Jousting.” For the uninitiated, you play this by putting a pantyhose on your head with a tennis ball in the end and twirling it around trying to catch and remove the same contraption from your opponent’s head. For the night I was 4-0, which I credit to my abnormally large nose and satellite-esque ears.
Next week I get to lead the “spiritual” component for the group. I’m not sure what I’m going to talk about yet, but I’m leaning towards the topic of how heroes, idols and God need to interact.

For the past two weeks, my life has been more consumed by worry than any other emotion. While most people would have probably considered it a rational feeling for the situation I was in, I am always disappointed in myself when my lack of faith and trust in God allows me to believe He is not in control or that He will not do all things for good no matter the outcome.

Granted, this belief does not guarantee the safety of loved ones or my success (in my view) in all situations. And this is probably why my level of worry was just so high.

The cause of my worry was the same as it is for many people; a meeting with a doctor. While I trust the medical profession probably more than any other I interact with, it is hard for me to imagine that they all realize how much meaning and impact their words have on everyone they see. People rarely go to the doctor to hear just good news. They go there for the truth and the reality of a situation to get clarity of what the future holds.

When we went to the doctor for an ultrasound a few months ago, the doctor told us that our baby to be had a slight problem they would be monitoring in the coming months. Apparently the growth of the uterer (a tube that goes from the kidney to the bladder) had grown too quickly which can result in some complications. It was looking like we would have to deliver the baby very early so the medical staff could do surgery.

For weeks we lived with this information with little incident. When we went to a follow-up appointment two weeks ago, the ultrasound appeared to show that things had taken a turn for the worse. The size of the uterer had gone from a “5″ to a “9.” In most cases, numbers mean something to me, but in this case I was never given an explanation so I was left to wonder just how bad the situation was.

As we waited for an appointment with a specialist to give us a second opinion two weeks later, our lives were consumed with stress and worry of the situation. It is never comfortable to have no control of a situation, especially when it involves one of your children. As a dad, I wanted to protect my son, but all I could do was pray and trust.

When we saw the specialist, it was clear that this issue was far less dangerously than we had made it out to be in our minds. The doctor told us that this is one of those cases that ultrasounds can be a bless and a curse and in this case it was a curse. The ultrasound they did showed the uterer to be between a 5 and a 6 (which I also learned is the measurement of the diameter of the uterer in tenths of a centimeter) which is on the borderline of a problem, but not worth delivering early.

So in the end, all things worked for good. Our baby is fine, we are all anxiously awaiting his healthy arrival and I am again reminded that my ability to worry will never out perform God’s ability to heal and help those in need.

I lost a mother-in-law, a friend and a role-model today.

Click Here.

Anytime I get work in a Welcome Back Cotter reference, I know it is going to be a good post. Especially when it is the title AND the picture.

After another summer here at camp, life is finally slowing down. I am still only getting one day off a week, but at least the stress levels are down. We had a great summer with extremely high numbers in July. So the work life is good.

The family life is pretty good too. Jamie is continuing to show the signs of pregnancy and the child is growing nicely. It has been great to here the heartbeat and see the ultrasound images. In a level of needed prayer, the ultrasound did show the baby had kidneys that are developing too quickly which may result in emergency surgery at the time of birth. Hopefully the rest of the baby’s body catches up to those kidneys.

We also continue to work through the process of Jamie’s mom’s failing health. It is amazing to me how a strong belief in God can change the outlook of so many in regards to this stage of life. The trust in the hereafter is worth so much right now. Knowing that we will all be rejoined one day gives my heart some comfort. I am eager for a big family dinner in heaven.

In less heavy news, I have found a new favorite internet service. Goozex is a videogame trading site that matches used videogame owners to make trades for only $1 per trade and postal fees. A pretty good deal. I’ve traded literally about 15 games at this point. Saving me a ton of money. If you want to sign up, use me as a referral and we both get some free points/trades! (Click here if you are interested.)

Other than that, not much going on. Hopefully this is the start of more consistently blogging from me again!

When I was a kid, I used to love the wind. One of the happiest moments I have from growing up is flying kites with my dad. It was one of those things we did to bond. These weren’t the typical single-string Smurf kites though. They were the two string variety that allowed you to guide the kite through the air.

Now, 15 years later, I still like the wind. However I do not always like the effects of the wind. When you live at a camp, you are typically surrounded by trees, as I am here. You quickly learn that in an environment like this, with wind comes work. The stronger the wind, the more trees and debris liter the ground. As much as I love using a chainsaw, it does get old after a while.

As I was cutting up a large tree today, I was grumbling and thinking through the annoyance of increased wind velocities and the relative flimsy-ness of the trees at this camp. Then, for no apparent reason, I remembered the scripture of John 3:8 which I have always liked.

“The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”

That kind of put things in perspective for me. I wonder how often in my life the Holy Spirit goes through and blows down the dead trees and branches cluttering my life, and my response is not thankful, rather it is a childish reaction of annoyance. I enjoy the dead things that surround me even though they are not very pretty or even nice to have around.

One thing I have also learned about dead trees is that they tend to fall in the worst places. In theory, a tree has 360 degrees of falling radius, yet it always seems to fall across a road, into a cabin or just in a difficult are to reach.

In my own life, this is manifest by the dead wood falling into the areas of my life that I enjoy such as my family, friendships or just free time. And again, rather than clean up the mess, I grumble and slowly remove as little as I can get away with.

I guess I just need to listen for guidance and start cutting before the Holy Spirit moves so I can do my best to thin out the forest. If all I have left are healthy, strong trees in my life, the wind can blow through with force and all that happens is a beautiful sound of rustling leaves.

That is the sound I want for my life.

It’s hard being human. To have my desires constantly changing like the wind to be happier, better and/or more successful is a frustrating place to be. As normal as it is, why can’t my desires fall more in line with what God wants for me?

Clearly it’s a lack of obedience on my part. With the realization that I have now committed my life (and my family’s life by proxy) to ministry, I am eager to know where I will go to serve Christ. Granted, I am already doing His work in this great place, but for some reason the grass is always greener…

So what spurred all these thoughts/emotions? Well, I had another church call me about being a youth pastor a few days ago. I have had several now which is very flattering and if circumstances were different, I would entertain the thoughts more seriously. I have a desire to serve youth and encourage and enrich their lives with the truth of Christ, but in what capacity that will take is so unclear.

I know I am only 26. I know my life is in the hands of the same Creator who put amazing ministry in the lives of ordinary people (see the entire Old Testament and the 12 disciples). I know that I have a great wife and family who will trust in God and my discernment to determine where the next stop in ministry will be.

I just can’t handle the waiting.

I have so much I can do in my current ministry and I always hear positive feedback about how this place is changing and improving since I arrived less than a year ago. But I still feel like God has something more in the way of direct ministry than this. Maybe someday that door will open and I will actually hear God calling to encourage me it is time to take that next step.

**Disclaimer – I apologize if this story catches anyone off guard. It is difficult to call everyone who deserves calling when things like this happen. I hope you can forgive me if this is the first place you get this news.

Every year I struggle with the same thing. As Easter approaches, I try desperately to try and make it more personal for myself. The mere thought of this holiday, the death and eventual resurrection of the man/God I call my savior, makes it seem this would be easy. In many ways, this should be more personal than Christmas.

And yet I have struggled. I have struggled to allow the loving God I know to truly penetrate my heart on this day. It may be out of fear, or pride, or simply a lack of focus. However that all changed yesterday.

It started as a relatively normal day. The night before Leah woke us up with a very high fever which we attributed to her ongoing teething. We gave her Tylenol, cooled her down, and went to bed.

The next day I was in the office as usual. My mom was visiting from Appleton and went with Jamie and Leah to a birthday party for one of Leah’s friends. As I was finishing up my work for the day, I heard the horn from our car repeatedly. I looked out the window to see Jamie driving our car quickly towards the office, frantically waving me outside.

I ran outside and met her as she was yelling to me “Leah’s not okay!” through her tears. I ran to the side of the car and saw Leah in her car seat, convulsing. My mom was at her side, unsure what to do. To be honest, none of us knew what to do.

We quickly brought her inside the office and Jamie held Leah as I called 911. I told the dispatcher about the situation and watched as Leah shook and her eyes rolled back into her head. This was bad. Her breathing was labored and her body was very rigid.

It seemed like the ambulance was never going to arrive. I watched as Leah suddenly went limp and her lips turned blue. She appeared to stop breathing for a few seconds and as we leaned her forward a stream of bubbles and saliva fell from her mouth. She was suffocating. Now that she could breath again, her color returned.

“What is taking them so long to get here?” I thought, “Dear God, don’t let my daughter die. I can’t handle this. I love her too much.”

And then I saw a truck pull towards the office. I quickly waved them inside where Leah was conscious, but not very coherent. I couldn’t help but wonder if my daughter was going to be mentally handicapped from the trauma.

I watched as first responders quickly gave her oxygen and slowly brought life back to Leah. She was crying now but still had a distant look in her eyes. Was she ever going to recover from this?

Several hours later, after numerous tests at the Portage hospital, we would learn that Leah suffered a seizure from a sudden spike in her temperature. The fever she had was not just teething. She had a bladder infection that had spread through out her body. There was no real way for us to predict this, but all the same we can’t help but feel responsible to some degree.

Fast forward to the next day (Easter Sunday) and Leah is doing much better. Her fever is down and she is back to herself. She even enjoyed finding Easter eggs hidden throughout the living room this morning (filled with dried fruit).

As I went to Portage this morning to pick-up Leah’s prescription, I couldn’t help but think about how this feeling of almost losing a child is what Easter is really about. The feeling of hopeless, no-control, chaos is the Easter story. How do you think the disciples felt as they watched Jesus commit himself to die? How do you think even Pontius Pilate felt as he washed his hands of the entire situation? This man was going to die and nothing could save him.

When I saw Leah so lifeless and limp, I could do nothing to save her. I could not breath life back into her. It was only be the grace of God that the human body restarts from a seizure.

I walked into the house with Leah’s prescription in hand and as I took my shoes off, Leah walked up to me with a something in her hand (as she often does). I reached down and looked at her gift to me. It was a pregnancy test. With two lines. We are having another child.

So as usual, I am forced to revise my thoughts on God. The Easter story is not about the hopelessness, the lack of control or chaos. It is about new life. It is about the gift God gives us through the grace of His son and the love He has for His children.

It has been an overwhelming 24 hours. But I feel as though I understand the loss and gain of Christ so much clearly today than I ever did or could before. Thank you for the plan of salvation and escape from death Lord.

1 Corinthians 15:50-57
I declare to you, brothers, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed— in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.”

“Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.