Weirdo

I am the father of a 7-year-old boy. For those of you who currently have or have had a young boy you know what I mean when I say my son is in the “weirdo” phase. Everything is weird! He is literally incapable of speaking or acting normally. He can’t say “Mom, can I have a glass of water?” Instead, he feels the need to strike a crazy pose and say, “HEY MAMMA! Coulds your boy have a glash of WATAAAAHH!?!” He does not simply walk from point A to point B. Its like he’s perpetually stuck in the final round of the world parkour championship. I’m convinced there is a 24/7 action movie playing in his head. He’s constantly displaying his kung fu prowess against invisible foes and providing spit laden sound effects for the battle. These examples may not fully express the state of weird I’m living in. Lets just say he is weird.

Now, lets get one thing clear. I love my son. No, you don’t understand. I love my son more than life. I would take a bullet to the face for him right now. More than that, I would be tortured for that kid and not think twice about it. Seeing him, or anything related to him puts an immediate smile on my face. That being said, dudebro is so annoying right now! Go ahead, label me a horrible parent. But we all know I just said what parents of 7-year-old boys across the world have thought and never said.

The last thing I want to do is stifle his creativity or discourage finding fun in every moment of life possible. I know this is just a normal phase. It’s part of growing up. I know that without even trying my son is easily the coolest person I know. I know that soon enough this phase will be over and he’ll most likely go back to the super chill, cerebral, tenderhearted dudebro he was 7 months ago. I see glimpses of that kid peak out from behind the weird every once in a while and think, “Ah, there’s the boy I know.” But for now I often find myself rolling my eyes and being a little more aware of how people react to my weirdo in public.

This makes me think two things. First, I’d like to apologize to my parents for dragging the weirdo phase well beyond the acceptable 7 to 11 age range and extending it through high school without permission. Second, I wonder if I went through a similar phase in my faith. I think I did. When I think back on who I was two years into my faith I feel my face turn red and I can easily imagine God rolling his eyes. I imagine he thought things like, “You think that is important to me? You think that is a good way to witness to someone? You think that is what faith looks like?” Then I imagine God planting a palm on his forehead and being excited for that phase to be over. I think, or at least I hope, I’m mostly out of the weird adolescent phase of faith. That’s not to say I fully understand God and faith or that my faith is somehow superior to anyone else’s faith. I am, however, hopeful that I’m getting better at deciphering who I really am, what parts of my faith are genuine and what parts were just part of a weird phase. I hope I’m getting closer to the point where God takes his hand off his forehead and says, “There’s the guy I know.

Bombs and Boxers

The first time I deployed to Iraq was in the spring of 2005. This was still during the height of the insurgency. I’m no John Rambo, not by any means. I know there were units that saw more action than us, but we saw our fair share. I’m not ashamed to say that after a few months of daily patrols, traffic check points, small arms engagements, sniper fire, mortar and rocket attacks and roadside bombs our nerves were a little raw. Some might say we were jumpy.

One particular day we had just come back into our tiny FOB (forward operating base) from a patrol. We returned to our shanty like living quarters, dropped our flak jackets, and passed out on our racks. We thought we had a full four hours until our next patrol. Luxury! Consciousness was slipping away from me when, BOOM!!! With no warning a large explosion shook our FOB. We were under attack and, Marines being Marines, training and experience took over and we leaped into action. We didn’t have a lot of time. So we grabbed our rifles and Kevlars, a few put on boots, and we rushed out of our shack to engage the enemy…in our underwear. Yep. In our boxers and skivvies. Now there’s an image that strikes fear in the hearts of America’s enemies. 24 sleep deprived Marines rushing a dirt berm in helmets and boxers. When we got outside we were shocked to  find no enemy attacking the FOB. And even more shocked to realize nobody else seemed to be reacting.

Apparently, nobody told us there was to be a controlled blast just outside the base perimeter to destroy explosives, old mortars and other potential bombs collected in recent patrols. Man did we look awesome. A platoon of Marines bum-rushing the berm in our skivvies while everyone else went about their day.

We naturally assume all explosions are bad, intended to take life and do harm. Yet this one was the exact opposite. This explosion was detonated specifically to prevent the taking of life. Its purpose was to eliminate the very things that cause death. But nobody told us that. Its very hard to tell the difference between a good explosion and a bad explosion when you are expecting no explosion at all.

One of the most quoted scriptures in Christendom is Romans 8:28, “We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God…” What exactly this means I do not know. I wish I did.  I can tell you that for many it means God causes all things to happen because there is some good, known or unknown to us, which he wants to bring about. This seems appealing on the surface. There is some weird sense of comfort when you can say “But there is purpose in my suffering. God HAD to do this for some greater good.” But I have some problems with this.

First of all the most literal translation doesn’t say “God causes all things to work…”, but “…all is working together into good…” Secondly, it doesn’t say anything about a “greater” good. How could any good that comes from a community leveling tornado be seen as great enough to justify causing that much pain and suffering? And lastly, I simply can’t get my head around God operating this way – causing pain and death around the globe every day for seemingly tiny and mysterious “good” reasons that we are to accept as greater than the lives ruined to accomplish them. Now, I know his thoughts are higher than my thoughts and I honestly don’t want to be able to understand everything he does. Any God whom can be fully grasped by my feeble mind must be a “puny God” (said in my best Hulk voice). But this is beyond mysterious. For me it contradicts what I see in Jesus, who is the fullest expression of God. Jesus was around a crap ton (trademark pending) of suffering. Many times he alleviated it. Sometimes he didn’t. At the pool of Bethesda in John 5 there were many sick people, yet he only healed one. What I’ve never read about, though, is Jesus causing the suffering he was around for the sake of some other good somewhere else. And only once did Jesus indicate that God even allowed suffering for a specific purpose (John 9).

I do in fact think there are times when God is at work in some horrible situation, perhaps even allowing things to unfold how they do for a particular reason. There are times when a horrible situation ends up being beneficial, when God really is behind the scenes working out something good. But not always. I think when it comes to our suffering more often than not God is brokenhearted along side of us. I think because of sin this world doesn’t work the way he made it to work and that results in a lot of heartache. I think the vast majority of the time suffering happens simply because we live in a broken system, not because God handcrafted it for us. And even though he is able to miraculously intervene in any situation, he often choses not to. I don’t get that and it often seems unfair (theology is tricky). Maybe Romans 8 isn’t saying God causes all things for the sake of some other good, but that he’s awesome enough to know how to make s’mores in the fire that seems to be burning down my life.

We all face trials. We all have bombs dropped on us. A phone call about a sick parent. A horrible diagnosis for your 6 year old. The discovery of a cheating spouse. A letter from the collection agency. Realizing in your junior year that you hate your major. Just like real bombs they catch us off guard and when they do there’s no way to tell immediately if this is a good thing or a bad thing. In that moment they all seem bad and we react accordingly.

I’d like to say that since I’m a pastor I’ve figured all this out and feel confident that everything I face will result in some greater awesomeness. In reality, when a bomb goes off in my life (literal or figurative) you can find me running towards the berm in my underwear, not sure what exactly is happening and praying, “God, please let this turn out to be a good one, and if not please let me see some purpose in it, and if not please help me trust your goodness.”

Utilidors.

Some quick background info: It’s no secret that I am an enormous fan of Walt Disney…not so much the movies and cartoons, but the man himself. He created a company that to this day embodies the spirit of “if you can dream it, then you can do it.” Walt was a master at creating something from nothing and blurring the lines between fantasy and reality. He and his team of Imagineers constructed a physical location for the suspension of reality – Disneyland. Walt poured his heart and fortune into his park. He often said of Disneyland,”…it is not a museum.” In other words, his park should constantly be in a state of change and growth.

Once Disneyland was completed in an old orange grove in 1955, the loner park suddenly became neighbors with countless hotels, homes, and various businesses. Walt longed for space. Enter “the Florida Project.” Walt began buying up acres and acres of land in central Florida under pseudonyms to avoid skyrocketing costs. When it was all said and done, the Walt Disney Company owned 47 square miles (just over 30,000 acres) of Florida land…more than enough for every dream to be realized. Construction began in 1967 (one year after Walt’s death) on what would become the number one vacation destination on the planet – Walt Disney World.

If you’ve ever been to the Magic Kingdom (WDW’s signature park), you’ve undoubtedly taken a picture smack dab on Main Street U.S.A. infront of the most photographed building in the world, Cinderella’s Castle…you’ve walked around Adventureland and listened to African drumbeats…you’ve strolled around Frontierland with screams from SplashMountain in the distance…you’ve meandered around Liberty Square in the shadow of the Haunted Mansion…you’ve skipped around Fantasyland while allowing your inner 10 year-old to emerge…and you’ve marveled at the futuristic utopia that is Tomorrowland. But, were you aware that just below your feet is another city. Just a few feet below the magic is a network of tunnels stretching throughout the entire park transporting food, merchandise, characters, trash, and other “undesirable” eyesores unbeknownst to all guests. Think about it: have you ever seen a maintenance truck? Have you ever seen a cart taking off trash? Have you ever seen someone transporting boxes of food, clothing, toys, ANYTHING? No, because it all happens in the Utilidors.

Walt was all about magic. He wanted his audience to believe in make-believe. He wanted people to feel his reality. He wanted visitors to suspend their reality for a short period of time and accept his. The Walt Disney Company took this to a whole new level (pun fully intended) when they built the Magic Kingdom on the 2nd level with the Utilidors on the 1st level. They fully intend for their guests to never see a trash truck. The will never allow guests to see (spoilers ahead) Mickey without his mask. No unruly guest will ever be dragged out through the front gate for all to see. All hidden beneath the wonder that is the Magic Kingdom is the actual logistical source of sustainment that keeps the guest believing the magic and suspending their own reality. 

I wonder…does my life have a Utilidor? Is their a source of sustainment hidden beneath the surface of my life that allows me to be me? If I were to peel back the first layer and see what really goes on would I be amazed and overwhelmed? I have to admit that the idea of God is puzzling to me. I don’t understand Him. I can’t quantify or qualify His existence. Most of the time I feel like my faith is just an act. Truth be told – just like Fox Mulder, I want to believe. I want the magic. I want to be able to flow through life with child-like faith feeling the hand of God on my shoulder as He whisper’s words of encouragement, hope, and love. But, He never has and probably never will. What I am left with is the hope that somewhere in the Utlilidor of my life, Jesus is walking around carrying my hurts away, restocking my hope, planning my future, mending my broken heart, and looking out for me.

I wish I could write this with some giant piece of evidence that God is, that God loves, that God cares, but I can’t. Its in these moments where we have to believe that God is in the Utilidor doing the hard stuff so we can enjoy the magic.

Jesus, if you can hear me, I want to enjoy you and the magic you have for me.