This started out as a homework paper about faith...

As a Christian, there are many aspects in my life that require faith. Sometimes I wonder how non-Christians can survive some of the terrible heartaches they go through without the reassurance of Christ. Without any faith.
A few years ago my favorite uncle died. Now I know I’m not supposed to say I have a “favorite” uncle, but he was. He was the one I would get excited about when we got close to his house. He was the one who I got letters and packages from. He was the one I couldn’t wait to see, and the one that I cried about when we left. He lived next to my grandmother, so that he could mow her lawn, bring her newspaper to her, and make sure she never felt lonely. It was always the biggest part of my year to go to their house for a few weeks every summer. I loved him, and still do. The waves that he made when he was alive are still having major percussions today. Thanks to him and my grandfather, my grandma will never be in need of money. She said she planned to spend it all on her grandkids, so there wouldn’t be any left when she died, and I have no objections to that. He was always different from my other relatives. He had long red hair, followed by handlebar mustache. He lived in a trailer his entire life, right next to my grandma. He didn’t have any kids, and was never even married. I don’t know why he never married, and frankly the entire family is perplexed about that one. But he treated us as if we were his kids.
His entire existence revolved around us really. He had an odd shift at work, where he would wake up early, and be able to get off before supper time, so that he could spend time with us. We would spend the better part of the afternoon waiting on his big old van to come rumbling down the gravel road. A big old van that he drove not because he had to. After all, he had a Corvette and a Harley. No, a big old van that he drove so he could come home, get dressed, and then take us all go out for ice cream. A big old van he drove so that when we went on vacation trips, our whole family could fit. A big old van that he hooked a small TV up to the cigarette lighter in, so we could watch cartoons on long trips.
We would wait till we heard that van, rumbling down the old gravel road. And we would run to him. We would run to him, and he would always somehow be able to hug all three of us at once. Before he went in and changed out of his work clothes, before he went in and got comfortable, and took a shower. Before he did anything, he made sure we knew how much he loved us. And we knew. Everyone that knew my Uncle Galen knew how much he loved us. He would save his vacation time all year, so that for three weeks in July he could use every single bit of it on us. He would fix up the pool for us, help us build teepees and take us to the library. We knew every flavor of ice cream that Mayfield made, and he made sure we tried each one. He took us on road trips, to amusement parks, parades, museums and ship harbors. I have never experienced so much of the world than I did in three weeks in July that always seemed too short.
My uncle was not a poor man. Not in the least. But instead of getting a nice house for himself, or even a HOUSE, he lived in a trailer. He lived in a hand-me-down trailer to stay close to his mother. He wore hand-me-down clothes so he could save money in her bank account. He drove hand-me-down cars so that he could splurge for three weeks in July.
If someone were to ask me who the most selfless man I knew was, there would be no hesitation. If someone were to ask me who the most caring man I knew was, there would be no hesitation. If someone were to ask me who the most loving man I knew was, there would be no hesitation.
And then all of the sudden, this man among men began to fade from my life. He was diagnosed with kidney cancer, and by the time they found out, it was too late. That sounds dramatic, but it is 100% true. Kidney cancer has no outward signs, and when you find out you have kidney cancer, you find out your entire body has cancer. He knew this. He was not uninformed of his situation, he was not in the dark. He knew exactly what was happening to his body. And he knew what he needed to do.
He began putting his money in an account set apart for his mother. He invited us up to his house, and we had the time of our lives. He did not take it sitting down, and he made sure we were never happier. Eventually, he began to get weak. My mother did not want us to be there during this time, but she would occasionally go and check on him. It ended up being a good thing that he lived so close to my grandma, because he moved back in with her. He began to lose weight, and started spending more time in bed. Eventually they were under the impression that it was “time”. Such a dark and meaningless way of putting it. They believed that he was in his last few days, and my mother went to be with him. But as always he surprised us. He lived longer than they believed possible, and I think it was so that he could see his nephews and niece one last time. So Hallmark can sue me. We went up to grandma’s house to see him, and a few days later, my favorite uncle passed on. He just laid on his bed, went to sleep, and woke up in heaven. I was in the neighbors yard with my brother jumping on the trampoline when they told me. My brother ran to my dad and I just sat there. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Fifteen minutes earlier, I had held his hand. Told him it was alright. That things were going to be alright.
I had complete faith in God that He would heal my uncle. Never for a second during the entire ordeal did I think God would take him. I fully trusted God that my uncle would get better. I heard what the doctor said. I saw the tubes attached to him. I saw the bed he had to lie in. I saw how skinny he was. I saw all of that, and still I was 100% sure, I was completely positive that my uncle would get better.
It took me a long time after the funeral to realize that he did get better. I know that’s what everyone says, but its true. God healed my uncle in ways I can’t even begin to imagine. And He showed me that my faith was not misplaced. He showed me that faith is not trusting that God will do something for you. Faith is trusting God. Period.

Sonrise

The horizon does not end with your eyesight. You can look, and see as far as you can see. You can climb on your roof, you can even climb a mountain. You can look, and use binoculars, and stare until your eyes hurt. But you will never see the end of the horizon. You can drive a thousand miles, and fly a thousand more, and you will never come to the end of the horizon. Its always the farthest point you can see. Its always just over that hill, or just beyond that mountain. The horizon is always in front of you, always close enough to see, but far enough to keep trying to reach. And that’s what we do. Stretch, and strive for the horizon. Climb the next mountain, take the next plane, run the next mile, reach for the future. And when we stop, stop climbing and running and striving. When we stop searching, and chasing. When we stop shooting for the horizon, we end up turning around. Looking at what we’ve done, being content with it, and looking behind us. Building a home is good. Having a good job, and a loving family, those are good things. But when we stop chasing the horizon, the one thing that’s always just out of reach. The one thing that houses our dreams that we continually strive for. When we stop chasing that, we give up the fight. We close our eyes, and turn our back on the horizon. And we forget. We forget that the Son always rises on the horizon.

Darkness

The sky is black,
Its never blue,
Just close your eyes,
you’ll see its true.

Darkness washes over you,
Rushing like a flood,
It steals your breath away,
It chills your very blood.

You trip and fall,
On even ground,
And not one is near,
To hear a sound.

You choke upon its stench,
Slowly impounding you now,
Dropping you to your knees,
It forces you to bow.

You can smell its vile breath,
As it whispers in your ear,
You feel yourself draining,
As it feeds upon your fear.

Your strength has all but gone,
You know your tomb awaits,
When you look upwards and glance,
The one thing Darkness hates.

With your slowly gasping lips,
You cry a silent plea,
But the Light seems to hear,
You once again can see.

A single Hand you glimpse,
In an instant Darkness shattered,
The Hand it hoists you up,
As if nothing around you mattered.

Your sin the Light can see,
Nothing can hide from His sight,
And yet He pulls you closer,
Further towards the Light.

The Light knows no bounds,
He has no time nor space,
And yet He came to find you,
In that filthy vile place.

When you sank below your strength,
Struggled with all your might,
When you choked upon the Darkness,
When you had given up the fight.

He found you deep below,
Lost, in need of love,
He came after His creation,
He lifted you up above.

Your eyes are spotless now,
Your lungs are crisp and clean,
You walk on even ground,
But now on HIM you lean.

A.A.A.

The words ‘Adaptability’ and ‘Apathy’ are almost the same. They both start with A, and end with Y. But in between, there are thousands of excuses, arguments, discussions and dialogue concerning the difference. The ability to adapt to your surroundings is a good one. You can become comfortable in the most difficult situations. You can smile in the face of adversity, and bounce back after even the most devastating blows. While others crumble under the weight of their circumstances around you, you adapt and move on. You continue without batting an eye, live your life any way you can, and continue as you were. Some people may think you are heartless, unobservant, and indifferent, when in reality you are the exact opposite. You observe everything, and take it all in quietly. You care about what goes on in your life, but have the sense to know when things cannot be changed. You do not allow things to happen, but when they do, you accept them as a fact of life. In this way, you can bear what many others cannot shoulder. In this way, you are able to move on.
Apathy many times disguises itself as adaptability. It convinces us that life is life and we must go with the flow. It tells us that things cannot be changed, for better or worse. They must remain etched in stone, and we must watch as our life flies by. It often tell us we are adapting, but we aren’t. We aren’t living our lives, or affecting our surroundings to better ourselves. We are waiting for the next big event to rouse us from our apathy for a brief moment. You have to be careful with these two words. They are easily mistaken for one another, and you must show the world which one you are. I have to be careful of these A words, because Adam starts with A too…