Blog
North Pole. South Pole.
By the hand of providence, I have a friend in Russia and a few in Scandinavia who are laboring for the gospel courageously. Like the running salmon that draw fishermen from all over the world to that region, there are a few men swimming furiously against the swift current of a culture that is attempting to neuter the God-given hearts of men and women. The result is the recasting of male and female
CORNER OFFICE
...a pinecone from the Grand Canyon. ...the cyrillic "Pilgrim" branded water bottle from a Russian convenience store.
...the fishing buoy from the beach on the Barents Sea where Yura and I made a bonfire.
OUT OF THE SCABBARD
Out of the scabbard of the night, by God's hand drawn, Flashes his shining sword of light, And lo, -the dawn!
-Dawn by Frank Dempster Sherman
BIGGER IS BETTER. Part 1
When I was 10 years old I payed good money to see Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark nine (9) times in the theater. Regular price was a whopping $1.25 but the matinee was only $.75, leaving money for a soda. That Summer I carried a makeshift whip at my side and changed my name to Indiana.
FEEDER ROAD
"Let's not do today" was my first involuntary thought as the alarm clock made its callous announcement. There are days you hate before they even happen. Today promised only slog, and the need to deal with
A THIN PLACE
I was skeptical when I first learned we'd be getting lessons in Arctic survival from a Lutheran priest. But there we were, with snow all around and the tundra sticking it's face up through the remaining mask of Winter.
BEAVER WOOD LEADS ME TO JESUS
There are moments when beauty hurts. Sitting with my bare feet in the cold running water I watched my kids frolic. We'd been here catching bugs and other critters for a while to stretch our legs after hundreds of miles on the road. We needed to carry on if we wanted to cross the continental divide while it was still light. But this small stream had exactly what I wanted.
BEER FOR MY HORSES
I was by myself with the windows down in Big Bend National Park. Mine was the only car on the highway, meandering through painfully beautiful landscapes and listening to a playlist I created for just such quintessential Texas moments. With the red granite cliffs of the Chisos Mountains to the left of me and the desert to the right and in front of me, the imposing landscape begged to be complemented with loud music from the masters of Texas songwriting:
Long's Peak
“Step again, old man. Breathe.”. That's what my head kept telling me to do. So I did. Thousands of times. The hypnotic voice talked me up to 14,255 feet where the air is thin (compared to San Antonio) and the view is...indescribable. It was like being in an airplane, except that it was cold and windy and you had plenty of legroom (but without the desire to move your legs any more).