The power of love

We want it all, everything we see, everywhere, anywhere, our desire knows no bounds. Yet that is what makes us so dangerous, that is what makes us so deadly, so noble, so dependable. We know no boundaries, we seek no finish line. Our pure goal is completion. We don't wait for it to come to us, we go out and we find it. The human heart sets no limits and the human spirit knows no perimeters. Beneath our shell of skin and bones stirs a force more powerful than we could ever imagine, more dangerous than we can fathom. It dwells in the depths, nurtured by our heart and our spirit, and stirred only through our selfless passion. 

This is the force that motivates us to work that extra job, to run that extra mile, or spend that extra hour helping someone else. In the big picture its the force that causes a man to disregard all aspects of selfish human nature and throw himself in harms way to protect another. This force isn't jealousy, it isn't anger or hatred, this force is love. A love for someone else that can only be expressed through our willingness to sacrifice a part of ourselves, our lives, in order to make them better. The most noble of examples that we find on a daily basis is in our parents. Their willingness to go the extra mile in the office and at home. However, parents like that are few and far between these days. Fathers have replaced fatherly advice and quality time with money. They have pawned off role modelling to actors and athletes, in order to pursue their own goals and dreams. 

So why have parents so eagerly spurned their parental duties? Is it easier putting in time at work, or at the gym, or at the nail salon, than to spend the time at home? Their is no better a way to each someone than through examples, but now we live in an age where parents say, "do as I say, not as I do." My time in the military has taught me that to be an effective leader you must never as someone to do something that you are not willing to do yourself. Because of that fact of leadership, much to my parents dismay, I got the latin quote, 'ductus exemplo' tattoed on my right side, meaning 'leadership by example.' My belief is that no matter what walk of life I am in, in my career, at home, leadership by example must be my motto. 

In a country controlled and guided by music and video (TV, youtube, movies, etc...) fathers have opted out of the hard talks, just as one might decide not to do the dishes one day, fathers have decided that they no longer want to mentor their kids through life. We live in a culture plagued by the adult industry, sex is casual at 15, and porn is the new sex ed for middle schoolers. Yet fathers and mothers continually shy away from the hard conversations, the awkward conversations, and the uncomfortable conversations. 

What happened to fathers being the head of the household? Not because we are men, but because every morning we wake up and claim that right. We claim that right through what we say and what we do. We claim that right because we spend more time on our knees asking for wisdom and guidance than we do on our feet. We claim that right because we are the last to go to bed and the first to get up, because every day we wage war on behalf of our families. Fathers are not the head of the household because we are better than women. Fathers are the head because they fight, they protect, they defend, and above all, they love. They love through their words, through their actions, and through their thoughts. 

Change

Its a thing of beauty the way our mind processes things. Each person sees things differently, we all have a different perspective, a different view, a unique view. Yet somehow in all of the chaotic differences we are able to find a middle ground. We're able to find a perspective that makes sense to all of us, well, most of us. We are able to compromise, sacrifice, and reason in order to come to an answer.

But what do we do when we can't find that answer? What do we do when we compromise and sacrifice so much that we no longer know where we started to begin with. How do we reason when we don't even know what perspective we had to begin with. We've all been there. We've all been so caught up in a situation that when we look back we can't trace our footsteps to the beginning. There are three things that happen at this point. We panic, and get lost even more than we were before trying to find our way back. We become angry and bitter toward the situation and blame it for our confusion, or lastly, we stop, we allow the situation to pass us by, and we start a new beginning, because we realize that even if we can trace our steps back to where we were before, nothing will be the same, because we have changed.

Change is an incredible art, its a majestic idea, it allows for a fresh start, it re-ignites passion, and re-inspires the mind, but we don't normally like change. We don't like trying something new, or trusting something we don't know. We like to say we have faith, but there is no truer test of our faith than change. And many times, our faith fails us.

Change scares us because with change comes ideas and people that we can't predict or anticipate. Change brings new things, things that require time and effort to get to know and understand, and many of us are to worn out to invest in something that scares us. Change isn't all that bad. Change means new steps, a new beginning, a fresh beginning. But, change requires faith, because change is a test from God. Change is God.  

Fathers Day

Today is a day for Dad's. Some of us grew up in a family with the "ideal" dad, some of us grew up in a family without a dad, and some of us grew up in a family where our dad was our worst enemy. But no matter what our situation is, we all have a father. I don't believe that its blood that defines who that father is. I believe its what they teach us and how they teach us that defines a dad. 

I can't wait to be a father. I can't wait until I can look into the eyes of a child knowing that everything I say and do he or she will emulate. It is a daunting task, it is a tough challenge. But the inspiration that comes with knowing you are responsible for teaching and raising a child that you made is beyond comprehension. There is a great power that comes with being a father, one that can either make or break a child. 

My father taught me how to be a man. He didn't do this through hunting or through sports. In some ways I guess you could say that his ways were slightly unconventional. My dad taught me that its okay to cry, he showed me how to have a warriors heart, but not to run over someone. I grew up seeing my dad as a military veteran and a big city paramedic/fireman, who has saved more lives then he would ever admit to. But the thing that made my dad special wasn't necessarily what he did, it wasn't the stories that he would tell. It was his ability to convey an attitude of selflessness and portray a servants heart without needing to boast on what he had done. 

Its hard to sit here and imagine or try and understand all of the sacrifices that my dad willingly made to benefit me. I know that someday as a father I will understand the frustration, heartache, joy, pride, and many many other feelings that come with being a parent. However, until then all I can do is say thank you and do everything in my power to honor my father. To dad's  across the world thank you, thank you for everything that you have done and continue to do for your kids. We may never fully know everything that you've given for us. 

And to my friends I would encourage you to read this article. Who wouldn't want to be remembered as a great dad? http://www.teamrubiconusa.org/dans-gift/

Memorializing a belief.

Something designed to preserve, honor, and remember the memory of a person or an event, either as a monument or a holiday... A memorial. There is no day that we can designate, no statue we could erect, or ceremony we can hold that would truly honor the memory of the hundreds of thousands of men and women who have so selflessly given their lives in defense of our country. Our words will never be enough, and our money will never fill the holes in the hearts of those that held them dear, the only way that we can begin to preserve and honor those who have gone and fallen before us is through our actions.

 It started nearly 250 years ago. It was nothing more than a belief, an idea, which sprouted into hope for something more. Hope for a place where sex didn't differentiate, a place where race was nothing more than an accent or a color, and a place where everyone would have an opportunity to succeed. Eventually this idea was born, it started on paper, and was ultimately forged through the blood of hundreds of thousands of men and women. They were all dedicated to the same thing, this idea, this belief and hope that we could be something great. Its a belief that puts faith in who we can be, not just who we are. A belief that is recognized through the blood of its defenders.

Over the years this belief has been preserved, from the hills of Gettysburg, to the sands of Iwo Jima, the beaches of Normandy, and most recently the streets of Baghdad and mountains of Afghanistan. Through these conflicts men and women have risen up to uphold that belief. They've rallied to uphold it for our sons and daughters, our brothers and sisters, and for men and women throughout the world who do not have anyone willing to stand up and defend that belief for them. Spider-man was once told that with great power comes great responsibility, obviously this was in reference to his spidey senses and ability to swing from building to building. But with great power does come great responsibility, and we have a great power. It isn't in our nuclear weapons, it isn't in our ships, it isn't in our hundreds of thousands of servicemen and women, nor even in our clandestine operations. Our great power stems from our ability to resist evil, our ability to bring about change without violence. It comes from the fact that we can inspire others to hope and strive for that belief.

Like some of you I have lost brothers and sisters to that belief, and as I sit here writing this tonight many of my closest friends from the Marine Corps are deployed in combat zones, right now, defending that belief. I wish that this weekend I could kick back and relax, and I probably will enjoy a beer or two, but it will be with a heavy heart. A heart that is burdened with the sacrifices of so many who felt it was their duty to safeguard that belief. As we remember on this memorial day, lets remember their families. The husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brothers, and sisters. Always remember, and never forget.

Perfect.

There is nothing more frustrating for a writer than having something to say, but not knowing how to say it. You think of every possible way you could word it, or every way you could start the post or the story but it just doesn't quite work. But the magic, the magic when it clicks, takes away all of that frustration that it had caused before. 

We are always looking for the right thing to say, the thing that will just blow someone's mind, stop their heart, or cause them to melt it our arms. We're constantly waiting for 'perfect'. But have you ever wondered how much we miss by sitting around waiting for perfect? Perfect doesn't exist inside of this world. There has only been one perfect thing to ever walk this earth and that was God himself. So why do we so vehemently and constantly chase something that is in all ways impossible for us to achieve? We chase it because that's what we've been told to do. Girls chase perfect beauty because that's what they've been told they need in order to get attention. Men and women chase perfect sex in a relationship because that's what they think makes a marriage, except in reality marriage makes the sex, not the other way around. These fleeting pursuits of perfection are never ending, and its rather ironic because in our attempt to achieve the perfect happiness we settle for miserableness while we chase something that doesn't exist. 

This One is for You

Everyday is an adventure. Maybe not the kind that involves surviving in the wilderness or backpacking across Europe, but its all a matter of perspective right? What if, instead of waking up everyday and dreading what would happen, dreading what we would have to do, what if we viewed everyday for what is...an unwritten book, a clean slate, a new story to be told.

Every morning we wake up, we do the same routine, eat the same thing for breakfast, pack the same thing for lunch, and go to work at the same place. At first its nothing more than routine. But eventually it becomes a habit and in turn that becomes a lifestyle, and before we know it we are sleepwalking through life. We're hoping the chores will do themselves, or that dinner will be fixed when we get home. We forget about birthday and anniversaries, and we start expecting other people to do more for us than we do for them. In turn the excitement goes away, the passion fades, and life essentially has no more meaning.

We settle with this outcome for two reasons, one - its the easy way, and two - it deadens the pain. It makes us numb to the beating of betrayal or heartbreak. It takes the sting out of words, slows the tears of loss, and reduces our feeling of worry, giving us a false sense of comfort. Yet, in accepting these two reasons we also allow it to suck the passion and desire from marriage, the care and love from our families, and the excitement from the small day to day things that make life what it is. You see, without all of these things, without the appreciation for the little things, what do we have? What reasons do we have to live? If we never allow life to be enough, then we will spend all of our time in constant agony over what is missing instead of cherishing what is there.

Untold

"Hail the King of the Jews!" They cried, as they spit on him and beat him repeatedly. The crack of the whip echoed off of the stone walls, the air smelled of fresh blood, as his cries were drowned out by the chants of the multitudes as they grew louder and louder. You could see the strain in his face, veins bulging on his forehead as he knelt down to pick up the cross. With a great cry he heaved and lifted it to his shoulder, his knees nearly gave way as the whip cracked across his back once more, the rock and metal gouging deep into his skin. All the way up the hill the beatings continued as he struggled under the weight of the cross. Yet there he climbed, one foot in front of the other, the savior of the world, carrying more than just the weight of a tree on his back.

His steps became shorter, his breath more rapid as he hesitated and paused, trying to catch his breath. Once again the whips cracked ripping through what little flesh was left on his back. "Here, grab him!" ordered one of the soldiers as he pointed to a man in the crowd. Simon slowly stepped from the crowd and heaved the cross off of Jesus's shoulders as our God collapsed beneath a string of beatings and curses.

I could see everything from my hiding spot as I sat perched on the rooftop, going from house to house trying oh so desperately to keep my eyes on my King. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as I watched Jesus collapse and cry out in pain as his body begged him to stop. But I could see it in his eyes, the resolve, the determination. He knew what had to be done, he knew what he needed to do, he knew that his time to drink from the cup had come. His eyes shown bright, not one specific color, but a radiation of colors as he stood up once more. Everything seemed to pause as his gaze shifted heavenward. A small tear trickled down his right cheek. He didn't beg or plead, he simply looked, resolved, it was almost as if he was taking a moment to just acknowledge his Father. And just like that he lowered his eyes and looked back up the hill, towards the place they called Golgotha, meaning the place of the skull.

The road up the hill was littered with the bones and remains of thieves and murderers left crucified, their remains a meal for local dogs and birds. As they reached the top of the hill two soldiers took the cross from Simon and laid it down at the foot of a small hole. I watched, mortified, as they forced a mixture of vinegar and water into his mouth. They stripped him of his rob, leaving him only a cloth around his waist as they grabbed his arms and positioned across the cross. Something in my mind told me to look away. A small voice within begged me not to watch, but I knew that I had to. I knew that if I looked away now, then I would always turn my back. I knew that if I didn't have it in me now to watch the savior of mankind murdered then I would never have the strength to follow him.

The crowd grew quiet as one of the soldiers reached down, picking out three long nails. By this point everyone watched, wondering what the King of the Jews would do once his flesh was pierced. The soldiers kneel'd next to his body, one on each arm and one at his feet, holding him down, bracing for a struggle. Tears flooded my eyes as I watched the soldier position a nail, he raised the hammer in slow motion, and in one strike he changed the course of the world forever. His cry pulsed through the air, echoing off of rocks and penetrating the very depths of everyone's souls who watched. He didn't struggle, he couldn't, he knew it would serve no purpose. Once again I watched as his gaze strained towards heaven, his eyes reflecting its light. I could only imagine what he was seeing. His screams pierced the air twice more as the sound of hammer striking nail reverberated through the mountains.

As they began to see the work finished the crowd slowly started to disperse. The soldiers heaved the cross upwards as it sank into the crowd. I didn't even notice the screams of the two thieves, my attention solely on my Lord as I watched his breath become shallower with every exhale.