Perspective

So I've been fishing the Truckee River quite a bit recently. I was wading down there last week trying to navigate a deeper pool of water. I decided that getting out of the water was necessary, so I found a tree root that hung above the pool and sat down.

After a few casts of my trusted lure and little response I decided to change my approach. I broke out the ol' jar of salmon eggs. My hands were numb from being in and out of the water the past hour. As I began to remove the lid from the little jar, it fell down, through my legs, through the roots and into the fast-moving river.

I should have cut my losses here. I didn't.

As a means of protection, I always keep my Blackberry in the pocket on my fishing vest that is furthest from the water. As I reached down into the stream to try and retrieve my lid, it became quickly evident that the length of my arm and fishing net was not long enough to accomplish the task.

In the following 10 minutes of struggle and pseudo-strategy, I managed to lose some more things from my pockets, an additional lid (don't ask) and soak the top pocket of my vest.

Once I realized I had endangered the phone, I pulled the battery to prevent any further damage. It was the first time this summer I was going home having not caught anything, and losing $20 of tackle.

When I got home I was pretty bummed. I looked online and saw the best remedy for my predicament was placing the phone in a bowl of uncooked rice. I also noticed a flurry of information on Twitter about Iran and someone named Neda. I spent the next hour learning about the election and the rioting. I found the video of Neda, (which I recommend for mature audiences only) a young woman and innocent bystander of a riot in Iran. I began to feel empathy...and shamefully selfish for caring about such a trivial loss in light of watching a father cry out his daughter's name as her life slipped away, taken by a stray bullet.

My phone suddenly didn't matter anymore.

I once again had lost perspective, and instead of bemoaning my stupid phone, I spent sometime praying for another country that is in desperate need of peace.

How quickly we lose sight of where we truly stand.

P.S. When I finally surrendered my rescue effort on the river and packed up my things to leave, I began the hike out in my soaked vest. Just before I crested the hill and regained view of my truck, I looked down on the ground. There, covered in dirt, was a salmon egg lid, dropped by some other angler. The irony made me laugh out loud. Oh, and the rice thing worked.

P.P.S. Pray for Iran.

DZ

the Quail

I was driving home from work this week, when I noticed there was a quail who I will call Dan, flying parallel with my vehicle on the other side of the street, roughly the same speed. Quail are about as common here in Northern NV as sagebrush (in other words, really common). There was a large SUV about 2 car lengths ahead of me in the lane between Dan and I. Suddenly, the quail gained speed and began to gradually veer across the lanes of traffic going the opposite direction, and then suddenly...he sharply turned.

If for only a moment, he must have thought he could split the gap between the SUV and I. He banked hard and began his path to certain collision with the back of the SUV. In 2 seconds, (which for Dan must have felt like an eternity, if Dan knows what an eternity is) he threw his brakes on, coming to a hovering halt missing the SUV by inches, then pausing, then trying to cross again, all in mid-air. In that 2 seconds, my vehicle had then closed the gap, and Dan's brakes were surely worn down from his first attempt only moments before.

Dan flew and hit the side of my truck, making a sound comparable to a neighborhood hooligan throwing a tennis ball at my vehicle. I thought to myself, "He's a goner".

Moments later, grey feathers erupted from the side of my vehicle blowing past my windshield. Dan was done. Surely the impact or my all-weather tires had finished him.

Then without warning, like a sandy-colored rocket of victory and hope, Dan arose from the concrete graveyard. He was trying to gain altitude as quickly as possible, although it was clear that he had not escaped unscathed. You don't know how a bird is supposed to fly until you see one flying injured. It's a peculiar but clear observation. He made it back across the street as best i could tell, but who knows what happened after that.

Maybe he found cover in the shade of a shrub and breathed his last. Perhaps his buddies watched the whole event and had a round of beers recounting the tale. Maybe he got captured by a neighborhood cat because his normal response time had been affected by the ordeal.

I found myself wondering, "why did he try again what so clearly hurt him the first time?" Before I hit the next traffic light, my mind had wandered. I thought," I do that too".

Isn't it funny how we will often return to the places and people who have hurt or ensnared us, even though we promised we wouldn't? We willingly walk into environments that have eased us into sin, relationships that have robbed us, and situations that set us up for failure but often aren't willing to make a change...

In Hebrews 12, the author says, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us." I'll be spending some time reflecting on the things that stir my affection towards God, and the things that rob me of it. I would invite you to do the same.

"As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his folly."
Proverbs 26:11

Font Snobs

This one hit too close to home.

Losing Face

About a month ago, I got ready to head into the office and locked my front door on my way to the driveway. As I approached my 1996 Toyota Tacoma, I noticed the door was unlocked, which was highly unusual. As I opened the car door, I saw all of the miscellaneous items that were normally stored in my dashboard nooks were strewn about the bench seat. Then I saw it...

My stereo was gone. Kind of.

The face of my stereo had been stolen. Probably a neighborhood thug who wasn't very bright, as he left behind my CDs, a nice mag-light, brand new jumper cables, and a variety of other resell-able goods.

For the next few weeks, I kept an eye on Craigslist to make sure no one was selling my stereo face. I imagined bringing a police officer from my small group along to render payment for the stereo face I found online, posted by the thief.

It's too bad the guy didn't get my whole stereo, for a couple reasons:
1. The face won't do him much good.
2. The faceless stereo won't do me much good.
3. My vocal warm-up CD was in the stereo. That would have been a great moment for the thief.

The hardest thing about losing the stereo is not having music in my car to listen to and sing along with.

I think that (prepare yourself for the segue) sometimes we view corporate worship like singing in the car. We aren't really singing TO anyone, just going along with what's happening around us. It can be about as mindless as watching TV (save the Office and Ultimate Fighter) and you can usually do at least 2 other tasks concurrently...like drive and text. I do not recommend this trifecta combination.

At a birthday party, you never sing the birthday song to yourself, or to no one. At a birthday you gather to celebrate someone you care about, usually with others that feel the same. You light the candles and hit the lights. Then you sing. You sing TO a person.

Some songs at church are directed at God the Father, others to Jesus Himself, and yet others are sung amongst the congregation. All of these have a purpose, but the truth that we sing is certainly good to remind our souls who we are and what God has done.

It seems that God wants our worship to be more like a birthday party than a ride with your favorite radio DJ. Let us be always mindful of who we are singing our songs of praise to.

DZ