A "Competition" for Glory

The past 8 days I've been hanging out with my great friend Rob who leads a mighty and life changing work.  Rob directs the Northern Ireland office of Ambassadors in Sport.  It's fair to say that Rob is crazy, in a wonderful sort of way.  Rob dreams up ridiculous things and then convinces other people to be invovled.  I respect that.  

For example, last year Rob convinced over 30 people to ride bikes across the whole of the African continent to raise money and awarness for the development of Hope Academies (see http://abcnews.go.com/Nightline/video/kicking-crime-11069702) in disadvantaged communities.  

We passed these guys somewhere on the road near Ballymena, Ireland!

The past 8 days Rob and I have literally traveled to every corner of Northern Ireland to speak about the work of Ambassadors and to challenge people to consider how they spend their lives in light of the grand scope of eternity.  Along the way we saw more than a few sheep, several cows crossing the road and rain - lots of it.  

It was a cool trip.  I think God used us to light some fires, encourage some folks and hopefully, call a few into a relationship with Jesus for the first time.  That said, I feel I must share in this public space a dilemma I encountered in one meeting.  In all my years, I've not encountered this type of issue prior.  I wonder, what would you do if someone had the most horrifying gas you've ever heard, in a room full of high school persons?  Would you stop what you were discussing to acknowledge that gas, or, would you persevere, pretending you did not hear this horrible noise despite the mass hysteria it elicited amongst the crowd?

I kept going pretending I didn't hear what sounded to me like a bomb exploding in an art museum.  In retrospect I'm not sure that I made the right decision?

I must admit, upon branding this blog "A competition for glory" I had not thought of the physical implications.  I suppose one would not necessarily consider things of that nature when branding a blog.  That was probably my mistake.  Needless to say, I'm am now aware that in Ireland the competition for glory is indeed alive.  

A final thought.  It turned out that the someone who had the horrible gas was in fact a 32 year old group leader.  I wasn't too sure what to do with that information, but there you have it.  This expirience is now off my chest and I can move on.  

~ SDG

Anonymity or notice?

Something like 65 million people pass through London Heathrow airport every year - today I am one of the multitude.  I'm currently sipping a VERY average Americano on a stylish worn brown leather couch at Caffe Nero...somewhere amidst the millions.  I haven't seen anyone I know, yet.  I don't expect to.  Strangely, that excites me more than it probably should.  

Anonimity is a strange thing; at times it has a peculiar allure.  At least it does for me.  It seems to provide an opportunity to sit in the shadow land of society and chose to engage, or simply just be.  That makes me think, if this is how life is meant to be lived - anonimous? Or, is the tempting call of anonimity countercultural to our intended existance? 

My favorite band in college, Cademons Call, had a folky type sound.  One of their songs was about life in San Francisco.  One stanza went something like this:

I love anonymity and I 

love being noticed

just the same as anybody else

Years ago I told you how I love to be alone 

These days I'd be perjuring myself

That has always resonated with me because of the seemingly opposing dichotamy I adore; anonimity and acceptance.

The more I read about how life in the Kingdom of God is supposed to be, the more I'm compelled to seek a life in community instead of the often prefered anonimity.  Paul explained the people of God as a body, one body in fact. He wrote, "You are the body of Chirst, and each one of you is a part of it."  That suggests that we weren't so much created for a life of independance but of interdepandence:  GOD + ME + EVERYONE ElSE = LIFE.

Often I wish the equation was God + Me = Life.   Sometimes, I must confess, I wish the equation featured ME alone.  But the Kingdom life is one based on a synergy of interdependant parts working together to produce more than they would on their own.  

As I've passed through Heathrow this morning I've been anonomous. Yet, I'm moving towards Belfast where I'll spend the next 9 days proclaiming the Kingdom life that is much grander than life on my own.  I'll do this in community.  I think that's how it was always meant to be.

~SDG

p.s.  If you are in the Belfast, Northern Ireland and want to come say hello here's where I'll be the next few days:

1) Edenderry CE, Saturday 14th May, 8:00pm 

2) Granshaw Presbyterian Church, Sunday 15th May, 11:00am 

3) Portrush Presbyterian Church, Sunday 15th May, 7:00pm 

4) Carnmoney Presbyterian Church, Friday 20th May, 7:00pm • Boys Brigade service

5) The Well, Saturday 21st May, 7:00pm 

6) Ballysally Presbyterian Church, Sunday 22nd May, 11:00am 

7) Edenderry Presbyterian Church, Sunday 22nd May, 7:00pm 

Where?

I'm not sure why but I love to hide when I hear someone coming.  It's probably not so much the hiding but the scaring that I enjoy.  It started when I was a kid.  If my younger sister was outside playing and I heard her come inside, I would hide.  It became a psychological game.  Sometimes I would jump out immediately. Sometimes I would hide so long that she figured I wasn't hiding, and then, BOOM!  You'd think I would have grown out of it, but no, I have not.

Over the weekend we were hanging out with a few friends at one of our favorite breakfast spots in CT - Buzz Cafe http://www.buzzcafe.co.za.  It's a cool spot to be on a Saturday morning... that said, 'morning' is known to be a relative term amongst Capetonians.

A few breakfast smoothies and cappuccinos later, one friend visiting from out of town asks, "So, where is Table Mountain?" For fear of a slow and torturous dismissal from this life, I will allow that friend to remain unnamed, as I simply note the uproarious response of those present at the table.

Just in case you have never been to Cape Town, this is Table Mountain:

There is virtually NO WHERE you can go in the city where you don't have a clear view of this massive precipice.  Literally, it's clearly seen from everywhere, especially when you are sitting at the Buzz Cafe which is situated about 100 meters from the base of the mountain.

Following that question and subsequent mass out roar, our friend's husband pointed directly in front of himself and said, "Um, lovie . . . " That made me think, so often I miss some of the most obvious things, even when I'm looking for them.  I think that God falls into that category.  Sometimes I'm looking but I think he must be hiding?  Or, maybe, I'm not really looking?

I recently read this from one of my favorite communicators, Louie Giglio, "God is always seeking you.  Every sunset.  Every clear blue sky.  Each ocean wave.  The starry host of night.  He blankets each new day with the invitation, "I am here."" The psalmist wrote:

The heavens proclaim the glory of God.

      The skies display his craftsmanship.

 ² Day after day they continue to speak;

      night after night they make him known.

 ³ They speak without a sound or word;

      their voice is never heard.

 ⁴ Yet their message has gone throughout the earth,

      and their words to all the world.

God is not hiding.  Actually, he's making himself known to everyone willing to look.

Have you seen God lately?

~SDG 

Glory is forever

It's fair to say, I'm not really what you might call a 'morning person.'  I'd like to think that I am pleasant and fun, and full of light hearted jocosity most anytime of the day, but now, just 3 months into marriage, my wife (Ginny) is quick to assure me that is simply not the case - I guess morning's not my thing!  I do wish I would have remembered that key information when my friend called a few weeks ago to suggest we run the Two Oceans half marathon, the largest road race in Cape Town that happens every year on the Saturday prior to Easter.

As we departed from our house last Saturday at 4am, Ginny asks me, "Are you excited for the race?"  At 4am I would have been excited to go back to bed for 3-4 more hours, but I couldn't say the same at the thought of running 21k (13.1miles) in the dark.  Needless to say, we arrived at the race start just as most of the other 23,000 runners did.  

23,000 is a lot of runners. I think I heard the gun shot to begin the race around 6am, but no one was moving.  A few minutes later the pack began to slowly inch forward.  7 minutes later I had crossed the start line - my race had begun.  It was still dark outside.  There were still 23,000 other people people trying to move in the same direction along the same narrow streets as I was.  I saw one man dressed as a cow.  Perhaps he was an Easter cow?  Somewhere along the road 3 men dressed like Tina Turner sauntered past me as well.  

About 10k into the race I was feeling pretty good about myself.  Sure, the Easter cow and 3 Tina's had all left me in the dust miles back, but I was still holding off the 20'something running in a Borat mankini (should you have been spared knowledge of the 'mankini' to this point, rejoice in your ignorance and resist all temptation to educate yourself).  I think it was just around that time I devised my plan to begin overtaking the vast pack of runners in front of me.  I told my friend I'd set the pace for awhile and we began fearlessly running past all those around us.  The plan was working.  I could see the indignation smattered across the faces of those we passed.  For a fleeting moment I had thoughts of grandure.  I wasn't thinking we could win, but I started thinking we could at least earn some sort of recognition.  That thought lasted about 45 seconds as kilometer 10 ended with a steep uphill climb - a climb that ultimately covered 8k.

I spent the rest of the race just trying to 'make it' to the end.  I wasn't particularly concerned about my time, winning a prize or where I placed in relation to everyone else . . . I just wanted to finish.  I kept thinking that wasn't how it wasn't meant to be.  Surely there had to be more to the race than a hope to simply finish.  

When I finally reached the top of the mountain there was still 3k to go.  The mankini had now long since past me and I was feeling defeated.  That's when I saw this sign posted on the side of the road:

For the final 3k this sign seemed to appear everywhere.  "Pain is temporary glory is forever."  I assume Old Mutual, one of the main sponsors of the race created those signs to encourage the participants to persevere to the finish.  They knew the runners would be tired and weary by that stage of the race and so they provided encouraging words.  It's amazing, but as I read that sign over and over the final 3k, I was encouraged.  It wasn't because I thought I could win the race, or because of what others might think of my accomplishment that day, but because I had a new found enthusiasm to finish well.  

After 1:52 I finished the race. I didn't win a prize.  It wasn't a particularly impressive time.  Yet, I ran my race as best I could.  I finished well.  

For the past week I've been thinking about that sign . . . Glory is Forever.  

The writer of Hebrews encourages us in a similar way to run the race of life, he said, "Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we're in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever."

Jesus had a firm understanding that the trials of this life, the things that seem to hinder, detour and often hold us back along the way, these things are temporary, but glory is forever.  The writer of Hebrews finishes his thought by saying, "Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."  

As I was finishing my race last Saturday I was encouraged by the reminder that the pain I was enduring was temporary.  I want to remember that as I continue to run this life race that we all find ourselves within - Glory is forever.

- SDG