Lean in to What's Stable

Two years ago, almost to the day, my wife and I had the privilege of visiting the isle of Iona in Scotland. What stood out to us, other than the incredible beauty of this small island, was a small abbey perched along the southeastern shore.

This abbey was built by St. Columba sometime after he landed on the island in 563 AD after fleeing persecution in his home country of Ireland.

In front of the abbey stands St. Martin’s cross, built around 800 AD.

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It's the Little Things That Matter Most

It’s been one of those mornings. Disrupted is really the only apt descriptor.

It started with waking early, as is my custom, to go to the gym for a light workout.

(I’m in the process of rehabbing from a ruptured Achilles tendon, so my “workout” consists of walking on the treadmill for 20 minutes while being flanked by silver-haired old ladies who like to sprint. I’m not making this up. I think they derive great pleasure from watching a “young” mid-forties man struggle to sustain 3mph on the treadmill. I’m pretty sure it’s the feature story in their afternoon knitting groups.)

But the workouts help set my mindset for the day. I’m doing something to grow, to improve, and to clear the cobwebs that the morning cup of coffee was unable to do.

This morning, however, I walked into the gym to find that the blustering morning winds had knocked out the power and they were sending everyone home.

Wonderful. Disruption #1.

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The Legacy of a Champion

I have to admit when I heard the news, I was a bit shocked.

I was sitting in church. Our pastor had mentioned a fascinating interview he had heard with an Israeli political figure who was quoted as saying America’s biggest threat to Israel was its ignorance when it came to knowledge of the Bible. He went on to explain why, but the text message that came in completely distracted me…

“Kobe is dead.”

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Death is Not Normal

A few months ago, I attended a funeral celebrating the life of my aunt who died way too soon. Cancer took her life, leaving my uncle devastated in its wake.

Earlier this week, I attended a funeral celebrating the life of a friend who died way too soon. Aggressive brain cancer took her life, leaving her husband and children feeling the depths of her absence. 

25 years ago, I attended a funeral celebrating the life of my best friend who died way too soon. Congenital heart disease took his life overnight, leaving friends and family confused and disoriented. 

You could fill in your own stories of experiencing loss, of dealing with the death of a loved one, of mourning someone who left the land of the living earlier than expected.

There is something inside each and every one of us that knows, deep inside, that this isn’t the way things ought to be.

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Reflections on the past week (or: 1 week down, 20+ more to go)
  • Dealing with an injury is more complicated than it might seem from the outside looking in. Little things that I took for granted just a week ago require a tremendous amount of effort. I often find myself tired and sweaty just from something as basic as getting dressed. 

  • I’m suddenly very appreciative when people hold the door open for me. 

  • When they do, I feel slightly ashamed because I know I’m capable of opening it for myself, and I don’t really need their help. 

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Achilles is more than just a Greek warrior

I’ve found I have two gods: Comfort and Productivity.

Comfort often takes the form of fun and pleasure, while Productivity is often masked as efficiency.

A few days ago, those gods were exposed in a single, painful act: while playing basketball with some friends, I felt something hit the back of my leg, just below the calf. Simultaneously, a loud sound, similar to that of a softball hitting a wooden wall, emitted from the same spot on my leg.

In mid-crumpling action, I glanced behind me to see what hit me, and when I realized nobody and nothing, was there, I immediately knew: the Achilles tendon had just ruptured.

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True North (How to Find Perfect Peace)

“You shall have no other Gods before me.”

When I hear this first commandment, something in me is stirred; a stirring that speaks of something magnificent and weighty in its simplicity.

Something that says that if we could get that first commandment right, we might not need the other nine.

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When We Come Alive

The hills in southern California have sprung up in vibrant greens recently – wildflowers of orange, yellow, and purple carpet the green hills, making a tapestry of color and life that I haven’t seen around here in many years. 

These colors were highlighted recently on a bike ride I took at sunrise, where the sun’s long shadows cast a contrast on the hills, making them stand out all the more glorious, all the more beautiful than they already were. 

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