When Wrestle Mania and Massage Therapy Converge

Thirteen years ago to this day I was in Cottage Grove, Minnesota completing an internship with a small church. I stayed with the lead pastor and his family of seven for two months. As a nineteen year old college student I was pretty naive when it came to what running a large family entailed. I watched and listened a lot as Pastor John shared with me what it was like being the father of five children ranging in ages 1-13. Interestingly, it wasn't the religious leadership nuggets he shared that summer that hold the tightest reign on my brain's memory banks. 

While we watched a movie together one night he looked over at me and said words I'll never forget, "Jared, one day you'll have a family of your own. When you're stressed don't forget to let your kids climb on you."

At the time I thought his statement was off the wall weird. Now I know it's genius.

Tonight I let me kids climb on me. Partly because I've been exhausted from a 3 week DIY project and back to back 10 hour work days, but also because I wanted to play and I knew I needed some joy to kick me back into what life is all about. Heaven on earth.

What started as a "massage session" (aka let's-walk-across-Daddy's-back-like-it's-a-bridge) quickly evolved into Wrestle Mania XXX which then naturally morphed into a tickle fest. Even my youngest Ari joined in and before we knew it all four of us were rolling around, giggling, and having the time of our lives. Eventually Avery had a pee-pee accident and we had to stop but it was all fun...ironically, even cleaning up urine. And amazingly I feel recharged right now. Enough to write a post and go have a movie date with my wife.

Thanks Pastor John for the advice you gave me almost a decade and a half ago. I will never forget to enter into the childlike joy that my kids teach me through their touch, their laughter, and their play!

Jesus, Press the Stop Button!

No matter which word Bible translators use to describe it--furious, violent, fierce--the storm in Matthew 8/Mark 4 was no joke. It was big. Big as in we-might-die big. Not sure about you, but the closest I've been to that kind of storm was watching George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg's characters' futile attempt to batten down the hatches in The Perfect Storm on my 60 inches of High Definition, Dolby Digital surround sound experience. And even then it wasn't too scary because I could hit the pause button at any point, pop an extra bag of Orville Redenbacher, and pee before returning for the climactic finish. 

Can you imagine being one of the disciples with Jesus as the white squall rolled in over them? Struggling against the wind, doing your best to keep from flipping over. Shoveling water. Utter panic. Meanwhile, your beloved rabbi is taking a cat nap in the back of the boat. Was he really that tired from the day's activity? Was he testing them, observing the chaos through a cracked, "sleeping" eye? Or was this simply another life circumstance, naturally presenting itself to the Son of Man in order that he might show his followers that trust is possible and moreover necessary even in the most daunting predicament? 

As Katie and I read this favorite story to Eden and Avery for the first time, their anticipation grew with each line: Was it raining a lot? Was there thunder, lightning? How big were the waves? Did they die? What's going to happen to Jesus? 

After reading it through and fielding questions, we decided the best way to get a real sense of the atmosphere on the Sea of Galilee and the conversations that ensued between the thirteen of the them during this temptest was to reenact the scene.

Avery insisted on being Jesus. The rest of us filled in as disciples. I doubled as the prop manager. Fan on high--check. Small mattress boat--check. Disco lightning switch--double check.

The story was going as planned. Just as Peter (Eden) was on his way over board Avery decided to put her own spin on the Messiah character, "There're aligators in there" she shouted. She then attempted to grab the three of us and pull us into a tiny two year old bear hug, reminding us of Yeshua's promise in her own words, "Don't worry, everyone. I got you. I'll just press the stop button!"

Isn't that what the Messiah essentially did...pressed the stop button? What a refleshingly simple take on a profoundly over-complicated situation. 

Avery's creative interpretation on the interaction in the boat reminded me of just how often faith is diminished when adults allow a worrisome mentality to run amuck or delay a necessary spiritual check on fleshly fear. I'm guilty too often of this, just like the disciples. And every time G-d responds to my lack of awareness in the same way. He reaches for the stop button and says, "Trust me, little faiths, I got this!"