Friday, September 17, 2004

This is something that I shared at a recent water's edge gathering. It was something I experienced and wrote about while on vacation a few weeks ago...

So, I just want to get these thoughts down before they are lost into the bankruptcy of my memory. Bugs again crossing the screen of my laptop just outside the Dells of Wisconsin where we are camping.

We set up our camp this afternoon. We got it down to about 20 minutes with unhooking from the truck, hooking up the electric and water, and getting the beast level. We proceeded to the kiddy pool and swimming pool for an hour only to return with a note attached to our trailer. It read: Please come to the office asap. Sorry, but you have to move to lot 79.

So, we decide to ignore the note for a couple of hours while we went into town. It wasn't that we wanted to ignore them as much as we wanted to enjoy the last couple hours of afternoon sun. We got back to the campsite around 7:30, and we headed to the office.

Turns out that there was a group of tenters near our site, and someone had supposedly reserved the site for their 35 foot 5th wheel to be close to the group of tenters. There were a dozen open sites around us, but apparently he insisted that he have the site he had reserved. I don't entirely blame him, but a bit of grace would have prevented us from a 40 minute ordeal of moving, and it really didn't move him any closer to his fellow campers.

Anna, Jaden, and Kathy headed off to the playground while I finished the move, chopped some wood with much intensity, and swore every word imaginable in my mind. I was absolutely awestruck by their total lack of grace toward the campgrounds.

Jaden is now trying to drink my Labatt Blue. I thought beer was an acquired taste that two year olds wouldn't have. O.K. I brought the boy inside the trailer to mom.

I was also amazed that they had NO concern or thought that it might take a young family a ton of effort to move the trailer for the sake of being 30 feet closer to their friends. I was reminded of my own selfishness in regard to our initial attitude of ignoring the note on our camper door. I was even more amazed by the selfishness of the campers. More than anything else, I hope they don,t claim to be Christ followers.

I know we don't earn salvation. Grace isn't earned. Yet, when our lives don't reflect our talk, I am beginning to believe that our supposed claim to follow Christ is also nearly worthless. The depths of my heart and soul hope that I don't display this kind of selfishness in my life. If I do, I hope you, friends, and family tell me so. Anna does it pretty regularly on little things. This incident just seemed to be a big thing.

Total reckless abandon for oneself. Those kind of people make the world suck. Period.

This incident wouldn't be complete without noting the ending. Just as Kathy and the kids returned from the playground, my hatred percolating to its fulcrum, a four wheeled vehicle from the campground pulls up to our site. Without so much as a word, the campground staff member begins to unload firewood and carry it to our fire pit. After two armloads, I mentioned that he had given us plenty, and his response was, "It's going to be cold tonight."

I have not a doubt that this guy was, at least in part, God's way of restoring a bit of my hope in humanity, perhaps only restoring my hope in people who really live lives that reflect the life of my Christ, but it was restored to some degree nonetheless.

Mom is frustrated with the boy in the trailer. I better go for now.

We had a late dinner of incredible muskmelon and over-ripe sweet corn that we had bought at a little stand alongside the road today. No complaints here. We held hands and prayed as a family. I began, and I couldn't think of anything other than that guy giving us the firewood, and I simply asked that our lives be more like he was to me tonight.

Where were you when I was hungry, when I was thirsty, or when I was in need of reassurance that we really were created in the image of God. And I somehow, somewhere heard God whispering, "I sent the man with the firewood."

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