The "Blessed" Life

Recently, I was enjoying a vanilla latte in a Cairo coffee shop with a couple dear friends while perusing photographs from the past few years. With it came old memories, laughter, and contemplation of the lessons learned along the way.

As I turn a quarter of century, (that's 25 my friends!) I realize the brevity of this life, yet how full and wonderful it is and has been. If “blessed” is defined by earthly terms, I am “blessed.” But I question that definition.

I am surrounded by the greatest friends and family any guy could ask for, spread out in nations around the globe. I'm fulfilling my dream of serving/loving children globally and investing into their futures. To me, it's not work; its my calling and a pure joy. I get to coach a sport I love to youth I love far more than the sport. Along the way, God has provided many snapshots of beauty/excitement...

From watching the sun rise over the majestic temples at Ankor Wat, diving face to face with the Great White Sharks in the cold waters of Gansbaii, skydiving over the metropolis of Atlanta, attending “Beauty and the Beast” on Broadway in Manhattan, trekking through the Sahara, exploring the rain forests of Southeast Asia, kayaking midst the jagged rock faces of the Li Jin River in China, swimming the open water from Dakar to Goree Island, free diving wrecks off Bahamas’ coast, skiing the mountains of Northern Lebanon, visiting the seven churches of Asia in Turkey, viewing the Pyramids of Giza, bathing in the Dead Sea, gazing at the starry sky through a hole in an underwater cave at 30m depth at the bottom of the crystal clear waters of the Red Sea, climbing Sinai’s peak, scaling Half Dome in God’s backyard of Yosemite, admiring Da Vinci’s work in Milan at the Last Supper painting, jumping the world highest bridge bungee jump in the Bloukrans, looking out over Paris from the Eiffel Tower, mounting the step of Buckingham Palace, strolling the vineyards of South Africa, eating tarantulas in Cambodia's roadside markets, standing in awe before the 275 waterfalls merging into one at Foz D’Iguazu in Brazil, to the awesome waves crashing on the rock of Valetta’s coast during storms on Malta, cruising the Nile, witnessing Syria’s fortress at Crac de Chevalier, exploring Jordan’s rock masterpiece city of Petra, to gazing in wonder at the empty tomb in Jerusalem. Truly, I’ve seen and experienced much in my first 9131 days of life outside the womb. (yes, I counted leap years)

And yet…am I blessed in this? I would suggest this weighs little to none on the “blessed” life. In the Word of God, I find the “blessed” man described as one who "KNOWS His God!" “Blessed are you Simon bar-Jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you!” (Matthew 16:17) One who is poor in Spirit, who has the Lord for their Shepherd, who is a doer of the Word, who is pure in heart, who is a peacemaker, who hungers and thirsts for righteousness, who is meek, who is persecuted for righteousness’ sake, who believes in the One he has never seen. Blessed is the one whose hope goes beyond the grave. Thus, true "blessedness" depends not on economic status, culture, ethnicity,age, experience or caste.

Indeed, the blessedness from God’s perspective can be found in the trash dumps of Ezbit il Nakhl, in the communist nation of Burma, or the dusty villages of Pakistan. How much more "blessed" am I when holding a dying baby in my arms, born in the brothels and stricken with AIDS she didn’t induce. When treating the open wounds of a street child, ministering love to intensely impoverished kids trapped in the slums and sewers of Calcutta, recognizing a life well-lived as I stood over the coffin of my brother René who died saving fifty lives during the genocide of Rwanda, the privilege of baptizing a couple Pakistanis in their irrigation canal, playing with Burma’s children in remote mountain villages, pulling the worms out of the scalp of a young girl in Northern Syria, changing diapers in an orphanage in Garbage City, to simply loving a child trapped in the midst of violence, danger, abuse, and fear.

These are the highlights of life. This is where the rubber meets the road…where faith takes action. If pain is God’s megaphone to a world that desperately needs HIS message of love and forgiveness through Jesus, that is where I want to be...with them in it. To feel THEIR pain in order to share the hope within the crisis.

Indeed, the truly blessed life would be one where this world sees no longer see Nate. Rather, my hands would serve as Jesus. My mouth would speak His words of love and forgiveness. My thoughts, His. My eyes would see opportunity and potential and not simply reality. My lap would be a safe haven for those who need care and compassion. My feet would be a messenger for His love.

Whether I have only today or 25 more years, may this be my definition of "blessed."

Thanks for sharing life with me and KNOW I am honored to call you, "friend!"

Listening to Coach

"Exhausted" would accurately describe how I feel at the present moment...after five hours of swim time trials, forty-one races, high adrenaline, and stiff competition, sleep sounds quite appealing. Problem is, I wasn't even the one swimming.

One of my great joys in life is coaching swimming. I absolutely love every one of "my kids." (though some are but six years younger than myself) Love the diversity of our team; what each one brings to the pool and to my life. From all over the globe...Australia, Egypt, Netherlands, USA, South Korea, Italy, Palestine, England, South Africa, and more...each is unique. From Hodder's humor, Leila's laugh, Morucci's encouragement, to Salma's wonderful sarcasm, they brighten each day! They are truly my friends.

Each day in practice, they hear my voice...probably more than they wish. But, the simple fact is this. They know it. Very well! It's distinct, loud, and my words are predictable. "Tighten up. Streamline. Kick! Core rotations. Attack the wall!! Watch your hand-entry."

But come meet day, with adrenaline pumping, the passion of the parents and crowd, and the distractions of the day, it's easy for my voice to be lost in the chaos of the moment. But prior to the start of the meet, I often draw swimmers aside from the commotion and say, "Listen for my voice only...remember the things I've told you." For this to happen, they must fade out the other distractions and tune in to only one frequency. Coach Nate.

We live in a chaotic world. Everything is seeking to grasp our attention and time. Work. Money. Family. Entertainment. Friends. Politics. Conflict. Relationships. Fear. How easy it is to be distracted from our purpose and passion in order to pursue the good while sacrificing the excellent.

How often I claim to struggle to hear the voice of God! Could it be that my life is simply too loud? Could it be I fail to tune out the distractions around me and neglect to take the time to listen to His voice? Jesus reminds us in John 10:27 "My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me." Of one thing I am convinced. God is not the one failing to communicate. It's me...failing to listen.

To identify a counterfeit bill, you don't have to study all the fakes. Just know the real. My swimmers do not need to know all the voices in the crowd to know which is mine. They know me. Likewise, I must know the voice of Jesus in this world if I wish to follow Him. The voice of the one who says, "By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:35)

No surprise this world has trouble recognizing followers of Jesus since so few seem to actually learn His voice, let alone, listen to His voice. We will only know His voice if we choose to pursue a deep relationship with Him AND fade out the voices of this world with it's hatred, revenge, selfishness, and pride. To know His words, His character, His love. Takes time, commitment, and sacrifice.

"On the blocks...take your mark." [buzzer sounds] The race is off...screaming people, splashing water, horns honking...who are you listening to?

Shoes

Shoes. A simple component of one's attire yet a powerful reminder to me to love. Frustrated by Mahmoud's frequent cancellations and tardy appearances to my Arabic class had me thinking thoughts which were less than Jesus-like. That is, until I saw his shoes. He walked in, clearly feeling ill, slightly discouraged, yet trying to pull himself together enough to teach another lesson. I saw a young man living in desperation, wanting more out of life, getting less.

I was ready to give him the typical lecture of his responsibility to be on time, how my day is valuable, and his duty to come prepared to instruct...it was then I looked down. And there they were on his feet. Two tennis shoes. Black with a red stripe. And it hit me. Hard. He is just like me. Goes out searching for shoes. Ones that are comfortable, in-style, and durable. We are brothers. We are so similar.

Perhaps he is dealing with heartaches I cannot imagine. If I had to walk in his shoes, what would my life be like. Helpless as I see the chaos around me and the futility of my efforts to change it. Wearily teaching Arabic to dumb foreigners for 10 hours a day. Frustratingly trying to make ends meet and realizing this is simply a constant circle with no end in sight. Hopeless as I follow the stringent regulations of man-made religious precepts required to reach God. But his shoes, God, they are like mine. For 40 years in the desert, you kept the shoes of Your people from wearing out. (Deut. 29:5) So keep my love fresh in the spiritual desert of this world. Because inside those shoes are feet with calluses, aches, blisters, arthritis. Did I think of that before? No, because I failed to put myself in his shoes. O God, forgive me for not loving more. Forgive me for getting frustrated at trite things.

How will the world ever see Jesus in me if I only judge, dishonor others, and impose my "rights?" It's not about "my rights" but about His love.

When Jesus showed humility and servanthood at it's finest, He hit the floor, untied those dusty sandals of His disciples, and began washing. Letting the cool water rinse those dirty, disgusting feet that had been cooped up in shoes all day. Drying them with the towel with which He was wearing. And Jesus…no, He didn't care. It wasn't about where those feet had been. What they had done, whether right or wrong. It was about what they needed now. A little attention. A little love. So He served. And then He shared with His disciples, "I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you...if you know these things, blessed are you if you do them." (John 13:15,17)

In that day, even a slave didn't have to untie his master's sandal. This was the ultimate form of humility. Yet this was the One of whom John said, "whose sandal strap I am not worthy to losse." (Luke 3:16) Who else needs love today? Just look at their shoes. You might not know where they've been, but is that the question? Perhaps, we should be more concerned about where they are going...that we intersect their life with love. Life isn't easy. Maybe, they've just been in the desert for 40 years, or maybe they are like Mahmoud…just needing someone who genuinely cares…and loves.

Oh yeah, I nearly forgot…you gotta get down low. It's hard to wash feet standing up.

5-4-3-2-1-JUMP

My legs were trembling as trudged the 200m catwalk to the arch of the Bloukrans Bridge. The open grillwork of the catwalk revealed the 700-plus feet of air beneath me dropping to the gorge's floor. It was shortly after 0800h on that Monday morning. The clouds had passed over and the sky opened up lighting up the brilliant mountains to the North and creating a glistening effect on the Indian Ocean to the South. A few minutes before, I had been strapped into a full body harness, wished good luck, and sent on my way...on my way to the pinnacle of fear.

Before venturing onto the bridge that Fall morning, a sign overhead reminded me, "Fear is temporary, regret is forever." So, facing my fear, I went forward. I have never been one to let fear conquer areas of my life. From reaching kids in war zones, to jumping out of planes, to eating tarantulas, to diving with Great White sharks, nothing has been an obstacle...but my greatest fear directly faced me now. The world's highest bridge bungy jump. Situated along the Garden Route at the Tsitsikamma National Forest off the Garden Route, the Bloukrans Bridge is an attraction for any extreme athlete.

Upon reaching the jump site on the arch, I was welcomed by an energetic group of South African bungy specialists...ready to send me on my way to the fall of my life. After strapping the padding and strap to my ankles, I was escorted to the edge where the bungy was attached to my 81kg frame.

And then the moment came...the moment every extreme athlete waits for. Asking for any last minute advice, I was told, "Don't hesitate!" Then the moment you wait for...when the adrenaline is pumping at such an extreme level that the body overrides every mechanism of fear...with the techno music pumping, my feet over the edge, the enthusiastic staff screamed out, 5-4-3-2-1-JUMP!!!!

With that, I left the solid concrete of the the 216m high bridge, and took the biggest jump of my life...assuming streamline position, I plummeted the couple hundred meters towards the earth leaving all common sense behind. As the bungy caught, it sprang my body 130 meters back into the air...after a 90 second bounce experience, I was retrieved by the winch and returned to solid earth.

Though the experience enabled me to overcome another of life's fears, I learned a much bigger lesson that day. Nearly everyone reading this blog would agree that the bungee cord itself is reliable, but how many would actually venture onto the bridge and take the plunge? Twelve years of safety, thousands of jumpers, and loads of adrenaline have proved this fact, but though I can say ALL day that I trust the bungee, until I’m willing to actually jump off the bridge basing my entire confidence in it, how much do I ACTUALLY trust it?

Likewise, so it is in our walk with God. Most people in the world believe in God (as do demons...and they tremble---James 2:19) and though we claim to trust God, how much does it really mean until we are willing to venture into the unknown trusting HIS promises alone? To swim upstream when the world tells us otherwise. Jesus tell us that "whoever wants to save his life will lose it and whoever loses his life for My sake will find it." (Matthew 16:25) Then Jesus unleashes the extreme call of, "If any man desires to follow Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow." (Luke 9:23)

No in-between options. Either you jump or you don't. Either you follow, or you stay behind! "Whoever, therefore, wants to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God." (James 4:4) A forsaking of life's common conveniences for the pursuit of the extraordinary! Faith as a mustard seed. It's not the amount of faith, but in whom it was placed. It didn't matter if I had heaps of faith in the bungy or a little. The question is, "Did I jump?" T.S. Eliot put it like this, "Only those who risk going too far can find out how far one can possibly go."

Does that characterize my faith in Jesus? Am I jumping off the bridges of life for Him? Or am I the spectator who says, "He is worthy to be trusted, but I'm not willing to risk it"? Perhaps the greatest risk is to stay on the bridge.

I would suggest, "Jump!" My advice, "don't hesitate!"

(for more pics, check out my facebook page)