A stomach in knots reminds him that this is not normal experience for the average Jay. The abyss beneath is intimidating and with tears in his eyes, he willingly places himself in harm's way.
The styrofoam encased in fiberglass becomes thinner and the bend in the board causes him to dig his toes deeper into the gritty sandpaper the closer he gets to the end. Looking down at the water is not the hard part. The hard part is looking around, for no horizon can be seen -- nor is there any support for the board. No pillar on an island with a diving board attached.
Just a board.
In the air.
Hovering high over the water.
In the middle of Nowhere.
He knows there is Somewhere. But to get there means abandoning the board, and to abandon the board means to embrace the abyss. The abyss is dark and scary, and God only knows what is in there waiting to consume him. He assumes he will swim to safety, even though it seems that safety is a figment of his imagination. But to stay on the board is not only to be in the middle of Nowhere, but to go Nowhere. And that is an alternative that is unacceptable.
And so he bends his knees, the board flexes under him and flings him high into the air. At the pinnacle of his extension, just before gravity proves its tenacity, he thinks he just may fly away and escape the abyss. Certainly, he thinks, flying enables one to go Somewhere.
And then he falls.
The watery floor beneath awaits his arrival with iron resolve. His feet hit first -- toes pointed and knees together parting the water without a splash. As he slips beneath the surface, he begins to kick. Surprisingly, he keeps falling further and further as if he is being pulled. Legs straining, fingers clawing, he reaches desperately for the light at the surface that is becoming smaller and smaller like the light at the end of the tunnel before the end of the tunnel can be seen.
The light slips away and he is sure that this is the end, or Nowhere again. The darkness is everywhere, and the abyss is still calling him and drawing him and clawing him. And there is no escape.
And now he must breathe.
And he realizes he can breathe.
And he knows he is in a new world.
And he is born again.
Again.
So this is Somewhere.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Sunday, December 10, 2006
John Edward McCumber III

Today is Trey's sixth birthday.
This whole journey I've been on lately with understanding my identity in Jesus as being more than what I do for Him has been most intensely illustrated to me by my relationship with my kids -- especially Trey.
Trey is my namesake, and he is most like me in personality. When I watch him, his reactions, his struggles, his young values -- I see me. When he grows up, he wants to play soccer for the Italian or Irish national teams because the USA sucks at soccer. I swear I didn't put that thought in his head.
Trey and I sometimes butt heads, and when we do it can be rough. My mom has a saying for parenting: "Choose your battles wisely and win every battle you choose." The battles I choose with Trey are often really difficult.
No matter what though, he's my son. He's mine. I see me in him, and that's not pride at all. When Trey scores a goal, that's my boy. When Trey gets his name put on the board at school, that's my boy. While I will obviously react in two different ways in regard to training/discipline in those two situations, there's one thing that doesn't change: he's my son and I love him more than I can say or understand. Nothing he does or is ever changes that fact.
No matter what, I'm God's son. I am his. He has put His nature in me and seeking His own glory through me is not pride at all. When I preach a good sermon, I'm His boy. When I speak in anger to my wife, I'm His boy. While He obviously reacts in two different ways in regard to my training/discipline in those two situations, there's one thing that doesn't change: I'm His son and He loves me more than I can say or understand. Nothing I do or am ever changes that fact.
Happy birthday, Trey. Thank you for teaching me about who I am. You are my son, I am so pleased with you, and I love you more than you will ever know.
Doing As Result Of Being or Being Versus Doing Part Six
Being vs doing was a bad title...too misleading of a generalization.
Doing as result of being is key. To pit the two against one another can be dangerous because what I'm learning is that I do have something to do -- I think of it in terms of the word "calling". I do play a role, a really important role, as I believe every person does.
The problem arises when my calling supercedes my identity. Kept in the proper order and balance, I think Paul can say "I'm an apostle", because as his call, that is what he is doing but it's because of who he is in Jesus. Paul holed up in prison was not able to be very apostle-ish but he was still a son of God and some of his most powerful writings came from that time period.
For me, doing my calling can become an idol so easily as a result of how I learned to think about God and my relationship with Him, that it is almost "being vs doing". And I know that I am not alone in that struggle -- many Christians today deal with the same issue, especially American Christians. Some dark part of me wants to believe that there are things in me that merit the love of God, something to offer that will pay Jesus for what He did for me. And that's just a lie.
"But God demonstrated His own love toward us in that, while we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
Doing as result of being is key. To pit the two against one another can be dangerous because what I'm learning is that I do have something to do -- I think of it in terms of the word "calling". I do play a role, a really important role, as I believe every person does.
The problem arises when my calling supercedes my identity. Kept in the proper order and balance, I think Paul can say "I'm an apostle", because as his call, that is what he is doing but it's because of who he is in Jesus. Paul holed up in prison was not able to be very apostle-ish but he was still a son of God and some of his most powerful writings came from that time period.
For me, doing my calling can become an idol so easily as a result of how I learned to think about God and my relationship with Him, that it is almost "being vs doing". And I know that I am not alone in that struggle -- many Christians today deal with the same issue, especially American Christians. Some dark part of me wants to believe that there are things in me that merit the love of God, something to offer that will pay Jesus for what He did for me. And that's just a lie.
"But God demonstrated His own love toward us in that, while we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
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