Moth Fight, Moth Fight!

“Fight!  Fight!”

No two words could make you leave your game of kickball on the playground faster.  Just watching two kids get scrappy was more than exciting… until a teacher came and broke it up.

Yesterday Brock got to watch some violence right in our house.  Not on TV, not between his brothers, and not between mom and dad.  What he saw was more visceral, more primal than any of that.  Here’s his quote:

“Dad, there are 10 moths in the bathroom, and they’re having a fight!”

Right now is miller moth season, so there are hordes of moths everywhere (there was one inside my coffee maker this morning).  Up until witnessing this moth-brawl, Brock would not use that particular bathroom if he saw a moth in there.  He was afraid of them.  Something about the watching them fight (they were probably trying to escape the wrath of a bug-squishing 3 year old) converted his attitude from afraid to entertained.

What are those things in life that you were once scared of, but are now entertained by?  And what triggered the transition out of fear?

God’s word tells us that perfect love (his love) casts out fear.  Sometimes we are forced to face a fear head-on.  After dealing with that fear or circumstance, we realize that it was really no big deal.  Sometimes we go through a tough issue, and we realize that the things we’re afraid of are way smaller than what we just survived.  Sometimes we just mature and realize that we are no longer afraid of the things that used to scare us.

But sometimes that switch never gets flipped, and we stay afraid.

Fear of rejection.  Fear of being alone.  Fear of being wrong.  Fear of looking foolish.  These fears paralyze people for years.  They keep us from connecting with others, from being the people God has designed us to be, and living the best life possible.  These fears are real.  They have deep roots.

We can only be free of these fears if we rest in the reality that Jesus never rejects, never leaves, and never condemns.

What kind of fears do you face?  Are they paralyzing?  Are they laughable?

With the right perspective, all of our fears can be a silly and harmless as the miller moths that get caught in a little boy’s bathroom.

Beyond Wrestling With Dogs

No, I won’t be joining Michael Vick’s dog fighting circuit.  Yes, I have been involved in two dog wrestling matches in the last two weeks.  

The first involved me breaking up a 2-dogs vs. 1 cat fight for survival (at least for the cat).  My two huskies and I returned from a hike, and it was time to let the dogs out of the back of my truck so they could run straight back to their pen (which they normally do).  On this adrenaline-filled day, they happened to corner our cat on the way to the pen.  

Normally, I would chalk this up to survival of the fittest… and the cat was definitely not the fittest in this matchup.  Problem was that my wife and my almost 3-year-old son were about 6 feet from the fight scene.  So rather than letting my impressionable son watch my dogs turn the family cat into lotsa kitty pieces, I jumped in the frenzy, which somehow allowed the cat to escape.  The dogs got penned up, the cat survived, and I walked away with nothing more than an elevated heart rate.  

Fast forward to two days ago.  Jodi and the boys and I are in Dallas, visiting Jodi’s sister and her awesome family. They have a great yellow lab named Maggie.  She’s a very well-behaved mild-mannered dog who loves to play fetch.  Well Uncle Brad was out playing sword fights with all the kids and fetch with the dog.  During a sword-fighting break, I decided to wrestle the dog.  As I tried to execute a quick take down, Maggie turned around and got a quick paw on my chin.  We wrestled on, and it turned into a good ‘ol belly rub for Maggie.  The kids all commented on my scratch, I’m thinking it’s no big deal because I’m tough Uncle Brad.  It turns out she gave me a pretty good scrape – about 1.5 inches long and bright red in all the holiday photos.  I think it makes me look tough.  Jodi thinks it reveals my true inner 9-year-old.  She’s probably right.

There is a common theme (at least for me) in both of these dog encounters: dogs have a certain nature that they can’t be blamed for.  Maggie is a playful dog that happens to have long paw claws.  I instigated it and she responded in the only way a fun-loving dog could… like a dog.  My dogs are huskies and exactly what I want them to be: outdoor dogs with tons of energy who are willing to fight wild animals when we’re out hiking (that’s the exact reason I got them). When given the opportunity to chase a smaller animal on the way to their pen (probably seen as an after-hike snack), they responded the only way they could have: like dogs.

We forget that people are like that too.  We have certain natures that we cant’ be blamed for.  When we engage with other people, we are bound to get an occasional scratch on the chin courtesy of someone else.  We instinctively do things and say things in reaction to certain stimuli: fear, worry, anger, and excitement (I’m sure there are lots of others).  Animals leave the instinctual reactions and scrapes in the moment.  People hold onto those scrapes for years and let them turn into scars.  

I’m learning that the good life, the kind of life God wants for us to experience, is about going beyond those scrapes and scars.  Jesus tells us to go beyond hiding anger, beyond managing the anger, beyond letting go of anger, and to go to the scrape-giver (and those we’ve scraped) and reconcile, to heal.  

Who have you scraped on the chin lately?  Who do you need to reconcile with?  Take some time and make that phone call.  Have that conversation.  Its not an easy call to make, but its the right call to make.  Let the healing process begin.  Live beyond.

Yellow Hen Not Peck Me

Brock is a fast learner.

Two days ago Brock and I went out to feed our chickens. This is one of Brock’s favorite things to do with daddy. He knows how much to feed the hens, where to find the eggs, and how to gently (for the most part) hand the eggs to daddy. Brock has watched me reach under hens to gather lots of times. On this day, Brock decided to try it on his own.

My back was turned and Brock decided to check under the yellow hen. We have several nice black hens and a nice red hen… as it turns out, the yellow hen is not on the nice list. All of the sudden I heard screaming and Brock is crying. Through the tears, he tells me that the yellow hen pecked him. She got him pretty good just below his left eye. We finished gathering the eggs and went in for the day. Here’s where the story really gets cute.

Brock and I go out again to feed the chickens the next day. This time, totally without any prompting from dad, Brock picks up a pretty big stick as we walk up to the chicken coop. The yellow hen happened to be standing at the door. Brock raised the stick in his right hand and confidently proclaimed…

“Yellow hen not peck me.”

I’ve told that story several times and gotten belly laughs from lots of folks. It has also been insightful to think about.

You don’t have to teach a 2 year old to pick up a stick to defend himself after he’s been hurt. Adults seem to behave the same way. The trouble is with adults, we take a long time to let go of our sticks even when the danger is long gone. This can be a bump in the road for people trying to build and live in a healthy community of grace. We are humans and will hurt each other. Its inevitable. I see many people (including the guy in the mirror) that walk around with our “yellow hen” sticks just in case. The mystery is that God says we can put our sticks down. He says that we can trust him, and that we can trust each other. But won’t we get pecked again? Probably. That’s just a result of getting too close.

But maybe getting “too close” to each other is what we need.

Holding the Leashes

The icing on the cake was today. I was on my way out of the dog pen with both dogs harnessed up and ready for a well-deserved walk. Tiger was on the sidewalk right in front of us. 2 feet away. 24 inches from two sets of young hungry jaws. Tiger didn’t even flinch. He arched his back a bit, but he never flinched. I had to kick dirt at him so he would get out of our way.