I am a child of the late 80's/early 90's. Upon moving back from Germany to the States in 1987, a welcome home gift was the movie "Top Gun" on VHS. Oh yeah. A young Tom Cruise, Val Kilmer, Kelly McGillis, music by Kenny Loggins... does it really get any better, Iceman? I don't think so.
I do think it somewhat odd that a certain scene from the movie came to mind this past Sunday morning while I was praying at the altar during church. Midway through the movie, during a flying exercise at the Top Gun school, Maverick and Goose's aircraft flies through Iceman's jetwash and they begin to lose control. The situation escalates, Maverick fights for control of the aircraft until completely losing control - ending with the jet in a "flat spin."
Iceman can only watch and radio back that Maverick's in trouble and heading out to sea.
Maverick and Goose are talking throughout this fast-paced and charged scene. As the jet spins, the centrifugal forces pin Maverick against the canopy of the cockpit. "This is not good" is one line that comes to mind. The scene climaxes with Maverick calling repeatedly to Goose, "Eject! Eject! Eject! Eject!" Goose is finally able to reach the ejection handles and they are ejected, Maverick safely, Goose fatally hurt when he is ejected into the canopy.
This scene is a very apropros metaphor of what my life has become. One event set a series of thoughts, feelings, questionings, and doubts spiralling into my life. And I fought for control. I am a man, a guy - that's what we do - fight for control. I just wanted to fight it out, right my aircraft, and keep going mach 10 with my hair on fire. That didn't happen.
The harder I fight for control, the worse the spin. I am losing my bearings - I have a pretty good feeling that I could completely lose the horizon, not able to even correctly point towards the heavens or the earth.
And I know it's happening and I fight harder. I am in a flat spin. I can communicate with everyone around me. I can remain calm amidst the chaos. But, as we all have, I have learned to hide it - to put up the facade. The worse the spin, though, the more the reality of my crashing comes through.
But you know... as I think about it, I'm not sure I'm even calling "eject!" I am alone in the cockpit. (How ironic the whole, Jesus is my co-pilot bit.) There are three courses of action from here: 1) crash 2) regain control (not likely at this point) 3) someone else has to pull the eject handles.
At one point in my faith journey, I could have just turned to Him and asked. "If it's not too much trouble there Lord, mind reaching over and pulling that cord hanging there?" No problemo. Right now, I'm not there.
To carry the analogy futher, I have wingmen. They know who they are. All some of them can do is radio back and say, "Bryan is in trouble, he's heading out to sea." But there are a select few who posses supernatural abilities, who are willing to miracle their way into my aircraft and pull the handles. One I met this past Sunday for the first time. Others I've known for years.
I suppose that's why it's so important for men to have a couple of guys who know us. Because we don't ask for help. We're in control and we feel that we can regain control when necessary. But what about when we're in a flat spin? When we're pinned to the glass, heading out to sea? We need an intercessor, someone who can do what we cannot.
Truly, I hope that my friends can turn to God and start handing control of their own aircraft over to Him. Again, I am not there. I have gotten myself in such a predicament that I don't trust myself to let go of the stick and turn the aircraft over to Him. Wow.
Wingmen cannot do it all. There has to be a cusp that, when reached, a decision must be made on my part; to hand over control... or crash on my own.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
LifePoint and Bob Dylan
It seems only fitting that music - which Donavon and I share a deep love of - is how I attempt to convey my thoughts and love of LifePoint Church.
Let's get something straight really quickly - I am not a big Bob Dylan fan, but I can appreciate his role in our American music culture. Some of his songs I dig, others I don't. So it seemed somewhat out of place for me to fall so in love with a song he wrote two years before I was born - "Shelter From the Storm."
When my family and I came to LifePoint just under a year ago, there were maybe 35 give or take, on Sunday mornings. Studs were up, but no insulation or sheetrock. A/C was spotty and I've sweated through some services. The heart, though... the heart was so strong. Donavon's vision of what a church should be - its mission, its function, and its role - was something the Manuel family could share and follow. I think it was the third service we attended where his sermon included references to both Spock and circumcision - I knew that we were onto something special. :-)
And so we became LifePointers (I always liked "Lifers" but I was never able to sell it). Valerie, Caleb, Lizzie, and Alexander, Phil and Misty and their family, the Callenders, Russell, Kellye and Wesley, Bunner, Carrie, Preston and Monique and Lacey, Aaron, Josh, and the wild boys, JMill, Bill and Linda, DJ and Wendy and Madison, Dewaine and Stephanie and family...these people and so many more - I couldn't wait to see each week. We shared the same heart - the same vision of Donavon's - that this church, vintage and still relevant, could turn the world absolutely upside down. Check your hang-ups and judgements at the door folks, cause the people in this place have nothing but love for God's children, found, lost, and those many of us somewhere in-between.
So getting back to Bob Dylan's "Shelter from the Storm"
My favorite three stanzas are:
'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail,
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
LifePoint has been my shelter, my refuge from the storm. I abhor that the word "church" is used so often to mean "building." I think of church as the people, the body of believers, the bride to Jesus' bridegroom. LifePoint is not a building. That building could be flattened, shattered, smashed, obliterated, wiped from the face of the earth - and we would still be a church. We would still praise and worship and rejoice amid the rubble for God is good, all the time. The point is - LifePoint would still exist. It is infinitely more than a building.
When I, and others, enter into this body of believers, the toil and mud of the world is washed away - my church says, with a warm, loving voice, "Come in. I'll give you shelter from the storm."
When the world of men has strangled me and my spirit, when I am beaten down, hardened, cold and lost, there's an altar made up of my brothers and sisters who say, "Come in, Bryan. We'll give you shelter from the storm."
I have been burned and hunted down. I am laid low and there is nothing of worth left in me, body and soul... and my pastor finds me and prays with me and loves on me - and with his whole heart and being - filled with the Holy Ghost, he says, "Come in, my brother, my son. I'll give you shelter from the storm."
It is a hard world. It is full of traps and snares, so cunning and sly that I don't see them for what they are until I am in their midst. My spirit struggles with my carnality on a minute-by-minute basis at times. I get so lost and twisted in my thinking and in my spirit. It's not a storm. It's a cataclysm of Biblical proportions these days.
Lifepoint, my church, my refuge, is my shelter from the storm. There is a body of believers: some the heart, others the hands, some the mouth, some the mind, some the feet - but all are welcome and all have a place. Come in, she said, I'll give you shelter from the storm.
God brought my family to LifePoint for a reason. So that when we moved many months later more than a thousand miles away, we wouldn't get lost. I know with absolute certainty, we would have gotten lost. Maybe not for too long, but for a time. Words cannot express my heart or how I feel about these people. My words fall utterly short.
I conclude this, a parting letter of sorts, the only way I know how to:
my friends, I love you.
Bryan
Let's get something straight really quickly - I am not a big Bob Dylan fan, but I can appreciate his role in our American music culture. Some of his songs I dig, others I don't. So it seemed somewhat out of place for me to fall so in love with a song he wrote two years before I was born - "Shelter From the Storm."
When my family and I came to LifePoint just under a year ago, there were maybe 35 give or take, on Sunday mornings. Studs were up, but no insulation or sheetrock. A/C was spotty and I've sweated through some services. The heart, though... the heart was so strong. Donavon's vision of what a church should be - its mission, its function, and its role - was something the Manuel family could share and follow. I think it was the third service we attended where his sermon included references to both Spock and circumcision - I knew that we were onto something special. :-)
And so we became LifePointers (I always liked "Lifers" but I was never able to sell it). Valerie, Caleb, Lizzie, and Alexander, Phil and Misty and their family, the Callenders, Russell, Kellye and Wesley, Bunner, Carrie, Preston and Monique and Lacey, Aaron, Josh, and the wild boys, JMill, Bill and Linda, DJ and Wendy and Madison, Dewaine and Stephanie and family...these people and so many more - I couldn't wait to see each week. We shared the same heart - the same vision of Donavon's - that this church, vintage and still relevant, could turn the world absolutely upside down. Check your hang-ups and judgements at the door folks, cause the people in this place have nothing but love for God's children, found, lost, and those many of us somewhere in-between.
So getting back to Bob Dylan's "Shelter from the Storm"
My favorite three stanzas are:
'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail,
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
LifePoint has been my shelter, my refuge from the storm. I abhor that the word "church" is used so often to mean "building." I think of church as the people, the body of believers, the bride to Jesus' bridegroom. LifePoint is not a building. That building could be flattened, shattered, smashed, obliterated, wiped from the face of the earth - and we would still be a church. We would still praise and worship and rejoice amid the rubble for God is good, all the time. The point is - LifePoint would still exist. It is infinitely more than a building.
When I, and others, enter into this body of believers, the toil and mud of the world is washed away - my church says, with a warm, loving voice, "Come in. I'll give you shelter from the storm."
When the world of men has strangled me and my spirit, when I am beaten down, hardened, cold and lost, there's an altar made up of my brothers and sisters who say, "Come in, Bryan. We'll give you shelter from the storm."
I have been burned and hunted down. I am laid low and there is nothing of worth left in me, body and soul... and my pastor finds me and prays with me and loves on me - and with his whole heart and being - filled with the Holy Ghost, he says, "Come in, my brother, my son. I'll give you shelter from the storm."
It is a hard world. It is full of traps and snares, so cunning and sly that I don't see them for what they are until I am in their midst. My spirit struggles with my carnality on a minute-by-minute basis at times. I get so lost and twisted in my thinking and in my spirit. It's not a storm. It's a cataclysm of Biblical proportions these days.
Lifepoint, my church, my refuge, is my shelter from the storm. There is a body of believers: some the heart, others the hands, some the mouth, some the mind, some the feet - but all are welcome and all have a place. Come in, she said, I'll give you shelter from the storm.
God brought my family to LifePoint for a reason. So that when we moved many months later more than a thousand miles away, we wouldn't get lost. I know with absolute certainty, we would have gotten lost. Maybe not for too long, but for a time. Words cannot express my heart or how I feel about these people. My words fall utterly short.
I conclude this, a parting letter of sorts, the only way I know how to:
my friends, I love you.
Bryan
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