Why I Ride…

The alarm goes off before the sun comes up. Your body protests the early hour, but somewhere in the back of your mind you know it’s race day. So, you roll over and grab your sweatpants, sweatshirt and beanie. The point is to raise the core temperature and get your blood flowing. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you move slowly down the stairs and head straight to the coffee pot. Because, coffee is the lifeblood that fuels the hearts of champions. Sometimes your teammates are there, sometimes they aren’t. And breakfast usually consists of some kind of whole grain cereal, some peanut butter and maybe some turkey.

It’s time to head to the race. You grab your kit, towel, change of clothes, cleats, water bottles, sun glasses, and bike. Pile in the car and head to the site. After you find a place to park you watch as other teams roll in. Some with huge trailers and others just come in carpool style. You pop in the headphones as the tension starts to build. You become completely aware of every muscle in your legs and the rhythm of your own heart. You can hear it pounding and it feels like it’s in your throat. Your stomach turns in knots and you wonder if the next guy is feeling the same thing. With the iPod bumpin’, you grab your kit and start to suit up, checking tire pressure and filling water bottles. All the while, you turn farther and farther inward as the nervousness starts to mount. If you’re lucky, it’s warm and sunny. But, on a normal day in early spring, it’s raining and cold. Which only helps to intensify the nervousness you already feel. You check and recheck, tighten your cleats and it’s time to go. You run a few warm up laps and then line up for the mass start.

The word is given and the familiar “clunk clunk” of cleats engaging registers somewhere in the back of your mind. Time to roll out. And for the next two and half hours you battle for position. Pulling. Drafting. Sitting in. The attacks come early and often. Two, three, four guys get up the road. The first break of the day is gone. The pace starts to pick up. The early break is spotted up the road. They are swallowed by the peloton. Another attack. He’s not strong enough to hold it. My turn to pull.

The race is coming to its last miles. The pace is relentless now. Pedals turning over and over. Handle bars knocking hips. Five miles left. The group is nervous. Is it time? Not yet. Faster and faster. Now! I attack on the uphill. The group splits in half as guys can’t fight the drop any longer. Three miles to go. I can’t get off the front. Wheel suckers. I push harder. The finish is just around the next corner. Still can’t get off the front. Fine. I’ll make it hurt. My legs are screaming. My body says stop but my mind says faster. All of a sudden breathing, the one thing we do instinctively on a daily basis, becomes a struggle. Where is the oxygen? I can see the finish. Push, push, push. It’s going to be a sprint. Then the sound of bodies hitting the pavement and bikes becoming twisted metal and the sound of cracking carbon is heard over the shoulder. Someone went down. Grunts and moans. GO! I’ve been pulling for to long. The guy behind me jumps off my wheel in the last two hundred meters. Nips me at the line. I hang my head in defeat as I watch him throw his arms in celebration. It’s over. My legs feel like jelly and my breath comes in long, painful rasps. My mind is a wreck. All the nervousness and anxiety has left me exhausted. Slowly rolling back to the car, I replay the race over and over in my mind. What happened? How? Why? Just let me sit down. And there, leaning against the car, sitting on the ground, the smile comes. The thrill of the race. The burn in my legs. It’s all a reminder of leaving it all on the road. Holding nothing back. And all I can think about is how much I want to be Monday here so I can get back to work. Sprinting. Climbing. Cornering. I just want to get back to work.

Call me crazy. Call me strange. Call me a fanatic. Because to those who don’t understand, I am those things. You see, it’s not about me. It will never be about me. I endure pain because he endured pain. I suffer because he suffered. I leave it all on the road because he left it all on the cross. I ride for the one who gave me legs in the first place. Every mile is an offering.

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

So many people find strength in anger. What more power can be found in Joy?

It’s for the joy I ride. See you on the road.

-velojon.

Besides, the guy who nipped me at the line is going to feel my wrath next week.

Fourteenth on the List (Be Like Kids Part 3)

Kamp is over. I’m home. And I got the flu. Awesome. But, I am thankful and content.

One of the big teaching philosophies at Kamp is the principle, “I’m Third.” Basically, you put God first, others second, and yourself third. It’s an easy way to teach kids the concept of serving. But, as a councilor, you can’t be third. You’re fourteenth. You have 12 kids and co-counselor to put before yourself. Constantly serving. Constantly cleaning spilled kool-aid. Changing wet bed sheets at 2:30am. Serving meals. Scrubbing toilets. Wiping down tables. And dealing with the wheel of torture. Not to mention other counselor responsibilities like writing post cards, birthday cards, and parent postcards. Then writing up character quality sheets for each kid. And you have to do all of this before you can stop and think about yourself.

So, for 13 days, you are giving all of yourself to the 12 kids in your barn. Constantly pouring yourself out. Working your fingers to the bone. And sometimes, kids just leave and don’t even say bye. What?! I just gave my everything for you for thirteen days and you walk out of here and don’t even say thank you. Don’t even say bye. Don’t even a wave. Nothing. And they’re gone.

You walk away asking yourself why you even did it. What’s the point if they aren’t even going to acknowledge your hard work? Where are my accolades? My pat on the back? My recognition? Sometimes it never comes. And honestly, it’s frustrating. For a while anyway. Until a little realization dawns and you start to see a bigger picture.

I was running in the beautiful Ozark mountains while I was there and a thought crossed my mind. Most of the summer had been stress free, except for the times when I was worried about myself. I realized very rarely during the last few weeks had I been worried or concerned. And it’s because I was constantly serving. Constantly giving.

Think about it. When do most people stress? In my world of college and all such related things, people stress at test times, when a relationship is having problems or when there is no money to be had. We hear things like, “I’m going to fail.” “I didn’t study hard enough.” “She won’t call me back.” “I don’t know how I’m going to pay for these things.” “I…”"I….”"I…”

We see a common theme. I’m not saying it’s wrong to worry or even have stress. But, to feel stress because we are being selfish is unproductive and all together sideways. However, if we’re serving and giving and pouring ourselves out, worry and stress look different. And it isn’t about how many pats on the back we get or how many standing applauses we receive.

We serve for the joy of serving. We give because we love to give out of the overflow of a forgiven heart. We work and suffer and bleed generously not for anything in return. But because Jesus gave first and something inside of us is longing to be like him. We are generous with our time and our money and our resources and our service. The reality is, they aren’t even our things in the first place.

So, let’s give extravagantly. Because there is joy in the act of giving not in receiving in return.

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross…

Smile. Laugh. Love.

-kounselorjon

P.s. This is George. He gave me the flu. My favorite kid all summer.

Chairs are Meant for Sitting. (Be Like Kids part 2)

When you sit down in a chair, you are making a statement. You are telling everyone you trust when you sit in the chair, it will hold you up and will keep you from experiencing a painful, and potentially embarrassing, fall to the floor. Whether you realize it or not, you are making a proclamation of trust.

Each time we get a new group of kiddos at kamp, we stand outside on the blacktop while each kid is introduced individually in front of their peers and the whole staff. They walk them up on the stage and stand them on the top step of the podium and for a few minutes, they have everyone’s attention. While they stand up there, all of us counselors go nuts, screaming and yelling, and “pleading” for them to come to our barn. It’s pretty special for the kids.

Well, day one the Lord starting teaching me. And it happened at this little introductory, gala event. When they introduced Ryan Lynn, he was the smallest kamper I had been given so far. He later told me he was born way premature and that was the reason for his small stature. When they introduced Ryan and told him he would be in my barn, I ran to the bottom of the slide to wait for him and take him to the room. Ryan eagerly hopped on and made the less than five foot thrill ride to the bottom. But when his feet hit the bottom, he decided to use them for jumping and not for walking. He jumped straight into my arms.

Ryan made a profound statement in that moment. He trusted me. Even though he didn’t know me, he trusted. He knew I would catch him and knew I would hold him up.

Every term I have been reading the story of David and Goliath to my kids. And every time I learn something different. It speaks of courage, trust, power, honor, and love. When David first approached the King, Saul gave him his own armor and told him to go fight in it. But, it was too much for David. Too big. Too clunky. Too foreign. Too external. Instead, David went to the stream, laying claim to things he knew and trusted, five smooth stones. His reason being he had killed lions and bears and other beasts of the field and the Lord had always provided him strength and made his sling aim true. Why go anywhere else or trust in anything other than what the Lord had always provided David with? Who was Goliath anyway? Another beast of the field?

I think when David put on that armor, we catch a glimpse of something else. Why did David even go to Saul in the first place? Why not just go and kill the beast and get it over with? Why even hesitate? Did David need validation from somewhere or something? Was he scared? When David put on the armor, he is showing all of us his doubt and his fear. Did he speak to soon? Could he really kill the beast? So, he trusted in something other than what the Lord had blessed him with. He trusted in external armor belonging to someone else. And he realized it would never do. So, in his fear, he went back to the things he knew and found comfort and power in the Lord’s tools, which happened to be five smooth stones.

So, David went after the enemy speaking defiance to anyone who would challenge his God. The bible makes a point of telling us Goliath cursed David but David responded, simply saying, “How dare you stand against my God?” He closes his monologue (every great hero has one) to Goliath by saying the battle was already the Lord’s.

This story screams of multiple lessons to be learned. But, today, the lesson in trust. David trusted in what he knew. Five smooth stones. He trusted in the Lord to give him power. He knew the Lord had already decided the outcome of the battle. David had no idea if he would live or die, but he knew he must fight, must take a stand. So he did. With five smooth stones, he trusted in the Lord.

Just like David who is Just like Ryan, we must trust. We must stand on something, leaving the rest up to the Lord. We don’t learn how to trust by sitting in one place. We learn how to trust by jumping or running to meet an enemy who the bible calls a “champion.” Let’s pick five smooth stones and get after it. The battle is already the Lord’s, right?

When Ryan jumped, he made a statement. When you sit in a chair, you make a statement.

Why is it easier to trust a chair then a God who went to the cross for us? Besides, a chair has never been known to say, “I love you.”

Sit. Stand. Jump. Trust.

-kounselorjon

Slaying Giants. (Be Like Kids Part 1.1)

So, this is an addendum to the previous post. It is a similar story but I believe it is one worth telling. Because, if we’re all being honest, we have some giants to slay.

We got a new set of campers on Sunday afternoon and honestly I was not happy. I had grown a little more attached to my first group then I had realized and my heart did not want to love this new group. And honestly, I was not giving this group the love they deserved. That is, until Tuesday night.

Every night before the kids go to bed, we have a devo time. It was my turn to lead and I wanted to do the story of David and Goliath. I wanted the kids (and myself) to realize they had power they had never realized. I wanted them to know the God of heaven had their back and whenever something came their way that seemed a little too tall to climb, the had the God of the universe giving them strength. Well, we read the story and I animated it and made it fun for them. I had every eye and every ear. By the end, the kids were on the edge of their seats and we all cheered when David struck down Goliath. It was wonderful night full of adventure and wonder and the kids were excited. And seeing them excited about God and the power he had given them opened my heart to give them the love they deserved.

But, the story gets better.

The next day (Wednesday) we were going on our canoe trip. Before every canoe trip, we head over to the tower to take a leap into the lake. The tower is about 30 feet up and it’s a pretty intimidating jump, not to mention the climb, into the frigid waters of Lake Taneycomo. My campers were terrified.

I had one camper who was particularly scared. His name was Andrew. When he first got to camp, he cried and cried because he was homesick. But, he was still having fun and he was an amazing kid. However, when we got to the tower, it was obvious he was afraid. I climbed up before him and yelled back down at the kids on the dock that today was the day to slay giants. I lept of the tower and met the frigid waters. Climbing back on the dock, I found Andrew standing still looking petrified. I grabbed him by the lifejacket and looked in his eyes and asked him if he was going to slay a giant today. Then I asked him if he knew who was on his side. Who gave him power. He looked at me with determination and said God. Then he looked at me and said, “Jonathan, I am going to slay a giant today.”

He marched up to the tower. Climbed up the tower, never looking down. When he got to the top, he looked over the edge, found my gaze and took a running leap. Andrew jumped higher and farther then any other camper that day. All because he knew God was going to help him slay the giant. Beautiful.

I know this story is similar to the last, but in the previous post, I left out a crucial detail. When it’s time to jump, to slay the giant, God will give the power and authority to do what’s necessary. We are forgiven. We have power. The story in 1 Samuel 17 tells us the battle is already the Lords. We just have to take the time to walk to the battle lines.

So David triumphed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone; without a sword in his hand he struck down the Philistine and killed him.

Drink Coffee. Party. Slay.

-kounselorjon.

Below is John Seay from the last post! Still my favorite Kamper!

The Home of the Brave (Be Like Kids part 1)

Friends. Yes and Yes. I am drinking coffee right now for the first time in over two weeks. Like I have said before, coffee is the lifeblood that fuels that hearts of champions. Today, I am being a champion.

I started this blog last summer with the intent of letting friends and family follow me as I adventured across the wonderful country of Thailand. But, the Lord had some bigger plans for the blog and before long, this became a place for me to download the influx of ideas spinining out of control in my mind. And before I knew it, I had a few blogs carrying the title of A Bigger Picture. These were spaced out between regular updates and were just some huge ideas God was growing in me during the storm of last Christmas and whatnot. Well, my little adventure climaxed on top of a mountain Mae Ai, Thailand where I had the privilege of baptizing students in a small fountain. The last year has been amazing. I have fought my battles and seen my hard times, but for the most part, these past twelve months have been full of joy and laughter and cycling. So wonderful. Well, in a previous post, I mentioned the Lord was taking me back to the place I thought healed and was calling me to finish what was started and fully become the man he desires.

So, here we are. Surrounded by children. And my journey begins again. I hope you will continue to track with me over the next month or so as I hope to write a series of posts of how the learning is stretching me here in Branson. So, let’s Be Like Kids and learn to become men.

The Home of the Brave.

Kids say the darndest things. Kids do the most amazing things. And sometimes, ever now and again, you see a reflection of yourself in the heart of a little one and something inside of you stirs. Some unknown emotion rolls over like a leviathan in the ocean and for a brief moment, you are a kid again. Last week, a kamper from barn one taught me a little bit about courage.

His name is John Seay. He is seven years old, has red hair and a gap in his front teeth. He gets excited when he talks and has a hard time getting the words out. He will make your heart melt. Although John wasn’t in my barn, we had plenty of fun fighting slew monsters, doing flips in the pool, riding water slides, and playing catch during football klinic. Then one night, he made me so proud, I think my heart literally did a jig dance.

At Kamp, we have parties (well, every night because were are awesome) with a certain theme every couple of nights. We had Amigos, Amigos, Amigos, Swashbucklers Delight, Old School, and the Holiday Party. The Old School was to be our water party. Right next to our Kamp is the Kanakuk family Kamp and it has some awesome water slides and a lazy river. So, we took our kiddos over there to get krunk in the lazy river before we dressed up like the elderly and “kicked it old school.” Well, I was working a certain station and look across the pool to see John Seay standing on the blob tower, staring down a ten foot jump. The look on his face could only be described as terror. He walked to the end, shaking at the knees. Then he turned around and headed back the the ladder to climb down. (The whole time I’m watching this, kids are trying to use the rings and I’m not paying any attention to them and getting punched in the back for it…) He walked half way back, screwed up his face, and headed back to stare down the jump. This time he got to the end, and bent his knees in preparation for the jump, stood back up and headed to the ladder.

By now, the whole pool was watching. John repeated the process over and over and over. Bending his knees to jump then standing up in a fear, ringing his hands. After several minutes of this, kids and counselors alike were starting to shout, “John, John, John…” And before I knew it, the two hundred people were chanting his name. I could only watch in silence…

John gazed around the pool in wide-eyed excitement at the sound of his name being chanted over and over. He walked to then end and bent his knees to jump. Nothing. Then went to jump again. Nothing. Knees bent. Nothing. The chanting swelled. John bent his knees. Nothing.

Then it happened. In one brief moment John was free falling. He hit the blob, bounced in the air and slid down the side into the pool. He floated to the top whooping and hollering like a man set free. Smiling from ear to ear. He melted my heart. All I could do was stare.

And it occured to me, John might have shown more courage in that one moment then I have in years. He literally slayed the giant, conquered his fear and came out having been set free. I realized then, this is what it means to be a man. It’s about staring down the enemy, conquering fear, and diving in. But, what is so beautiful about it, people are watching, shouting my name. Watching silently, hoping. Those who have gone before are urging you to take a leap. Attack the giant. Be brave.

But the reality is while this story is heart warming, blob towers aren’t scary. For some of us, they might even be boring. But we all have a tower or mountain in our life which needs conquering. Maybe it’s a phone conversation. A career change. A come to Jesus time. Or the top step of the podium. Whatever it may be, masculinity is defined by the courage we can find within ourselves to conquer the deepest fears. And swim to the top, like John Seay, whooping with the joy of being set free. It may be deep. It may be a long fall. And honestly, it probably will hurt. But, I think freedom may just be worth it.

What are you afraid of? It’s time to jump…

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.

Party. Laugh. Love.

(look out now…)

-Kounselorjohn

(Well friends, I have pictures. But, I forgot my USB cable. I’ll figure something out. Next time!)

The Least of These…

Friends,

I am writing you from Branson, Missouri. The last ten days I have been living the life at K-Kountry hanging out with kids. Riding water slides. Playing football. And jumping on blobs. Obviously, the greatest summer of all time.

Right before I left for camp, the Lord starting working on my heart. I thought it interesting he started calling on me to be the man he created me to be days before I left to spend six weeks in the presence of 9 year olds. How can nine year olds tear down the walls built around my heart? How can nine year olds lead me to the presence of the Lord? How can nine year olds teach me how to love and serve and act the way I was created to? What can a 9 year teach me about courage? How can a 9 year old teach me how to stand up for what’s right?

When I left for camp, I thought I was going to have to put what the Lord was taching me on hold and pick it back up in August when it came time for more sitting on the railroad tracks perched precariosuly high above rushing water and certain death should an untimely fall occur (how about that sentence?).

But the thought ocurred to me the other day that maybe, just maybe, the Lord knew what he was doing when he sent me to camp. Maybe he knew I would have something to learn from a cabin full of nine year olds and a seven year old named John with red hair who faced his greatest fear with courage King David would be proud of and jumped on the blob for the first time in his life two nights ago. Maybe a 7 year old knows more about how to be a man then this 21 year old. Could it be that a 9 year named Ryan Lynn who jumped into my arms and gave my neck a death grip before he even knew my name knows more about how to be a man than me?

You see, a child’s heart is pure. A chid’s heart is automatically trusting. A child’s heart only knows one way to love. Full speed. A child’s heart knows how to express emotion. A child’s heart knows how to care. A child’s heart smiles and laughs. Does my own heart know all of those things?

Sure there are kids who know hate and spite. Sure there are kids who pick on other kids and who cheat and lie. But most kids, like John, are pure at heart. Smile a lot. Face any challenge. Love to win. And laugh loud.

Could it be these kids are going to teach me how to be a man in the eyes of the Lord?

I think the answer is yes. Stay tuned.

Laugh out loud. Cycle. And Party.

-junglejon

Sleeping Giants.

People I love the most are speaking truth into my heart a life. Through conversations shared while being perched precariously on railroad tracks high off the ground, late night back porch musing, and a couple of books, the Lord has been stirring something inside of me. Through it comes an itch to be something more. An itch to live abundantly. An itch to love selflessly. And an itch to finally become the man the Lord has called me to be.

I can feel something stirring in my heart. Like a giant waking from his slumber. It comes and goes and comes and goes. A battle rages in my heart and mind as I recoil from all the Lord is revealing. But the pebble has been thrown and nothing can stop the ripples spreading rapidly across my heart. The giant inside of me is clawing at the surface now.

I have realized there are still walls around my heart. Walls from love lost and friendships squandered. I see their faces and hear their voices and a terrible ache rises to the surface. A great sadness time seems unable to conquer. For so long I thought myself healed and mended. For so long I considered myself whole and true. But the Lord is telling me otherwise. He is calling me now to rise up and face the final test. To break down the walls I was sure no longer existed. And the giant inside of me grows.

A quiet confidence is stirring inside of me. A challenge to stand for what is right no matter what the cost. A challenge to love in the same way Christ loved the church. Who, being in very nature God, considered equality with God not something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, enduring death on the cross. So, I too must be willing to put my heart on the line and step with confidence into my own Garden of Gethsemane. Trusting the Lord with every ounce of my being and being ready to give me life for the one I love should the time come. So, I too must be willing to fight for her and buy her back over and over again, even if everything I am is on the line. I too must be willing to go to the ends of the earth to rescue her and bring her into the Kingdom and community with our Heavenly father. No matter the cost.

I realized, however, I am not that man. I am not ready to love like that. I am not ready to fight and put my life on the line. I am not ready to stand with courage for what is right and true and pure. I shrink at the thought of ridicule. I buckle at the thought of disappointing others. I back down when it comes time to fight for what is right. I tremble at the thought of loving someone again.

But the giant inside of me is growing. Slowly I am learning faith the size of mustard seeds can move mountains. Slowly I am learning I have the power to stand against those who oppose truth and life. Slowly I am learning I do have the capacity to love like Christ has loved us. Slowly I am learning all I do is meant for the glory of the one who endured the cross. Whether it be eating or sleeping. Crying or laughing. Riding or sitting. Catching frisbees or hanging with my roommates. I do it all for the glory of the one who rescued me and gave me life.

With this comes a freedom. A reckless abandon to do it all with full speed and a smile on my lips. To stand tall and ride fast. To love fierce and to laugh the loudest. I don’t do it for them. Or you. Or whoever else there may be. I don’t do it for personal gain or glory.

I do it for Him, who is even now sitting on his throne in Heaven with the fullness of the Glory of God surrounding him.

The giant is growing. Climbing to the surface. Challenging me to step into the person the Lord has for me. Challenging me to live a life worthy of the Cross. So, I must. Even though it hurts to travel back into the pain and once again tackle the walls around my heart. I must push forward. I must conquer my fear and doubt. It is time for courage and confidence. Time for life. Time to grow up.

So, let us together arouse the sleeping giants and raise an army of men and women who fear nothing save those who might not hear the gospel we so desperately cling to. Let us join the throngs of those who are already fighting and take up arms with our brothers and sisters. Let us enter the arena, surrounded by those who have gone before and run the race marked out for us.

It is time.

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. For it is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is light that makes everything visible. This is why it is said:
“Wake up, O sleeper,
rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you.”

Come, let us shine together.

Ride hard. Laugh loud. Love fierce.

-junglejon

Get Aero, Son.

Florida is flat. It’s surprisingly difficult to ride on flat roads. There is no coasting. No climbing. No shifting in the saddle. No standing. No downhills. Just flat. It is the constant of revolutions as your legs roll over the crank again and again. Pushing. Pushing. And pushing. Then a dull ache creeps into your quads. A small fire constantly burning. There is no reprieve of the downhill. It’s a constant push. A constant burn. Your endurance is tested at 85 revolutions per minute.

Can you keep pushing? Can you ignore the constant fire in your legs? Or will you quit? These are the questions you keep asking yourself…

If you stop pushing, then you lose momentum. And it requires even more effort to get it back. Once you go it up, you have to keep it up. The only thing keeping you going is the thought of one day finding the top step of the podium. The thought of looking over your shoulder and watching the next guy crack. The thought of out sprinting the next guy to the line. All of these things make the burn worth it. They all make the constant ache more tolerable. In fact, you push harder and harder. Spinning fast and faster. And your endurance is tested.

It’s the endurance of hope. A small fire burning somewhere inside of you. Causing you to push harder and harder. It burns and burns. Some days it burns brighter than others, fueled by many things. Other days it is barely lit, but it’s still there. Still burning. Consuming the thoughts of a future glory. Of one day standing before the father and hearing him say well done. And it’s with this future glory we push and push and ignore the dull ache.

This thing called hope burns inside of us. Sometimes it’s a dull ache. A small fire. But it always burns. And we push and push. We ignore the pain for this thing called hope. It drives us forward.

It’s the hope of one day standing in heaven knowing when the time has come we outsprinted everyone else. It’s the hope of knowing when all is said and done, we are standing on the top step of the podium.

So when it hurts. Or when the ache creeps up. Or when the fire threatens our ability to keep going. We lean forward. Grip the handle bars and get aero, son.

Because when you get aero, you do work. You’re telling everyone else it hurts and it’s hard, but you’re not stopping. In fact, since it hurts, you’re just going to go ahead and make it unbearable. Make it hurt as much as possible. Because there are times when the thought of a future glory makes the pain and the hurt and the fire so very worth it.

We continually remember before our God and Father your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.

What are you hoping for?

Drink coffee. Body surf. Get aero, son.

-junglejon

Dedicated to Best Friends.

Dear Future Heir,

A long time ago, when you were still young, you made a decision to follow after me. We walked together for many years. Through many highs and many lows, we traveled through life. But as you got older, you drifted away from me and let go of my hand. You stopped looking in my eyes and stopped letting me lead you.

I watched as you moved farther and farther away from me, drifting so far from my path I wondered if you could ever find your way back. You began to stumble and struggle through the thick underbrush of thorns. I sent my Son in after you. To clear a path for you and fight off the wild things attacking you. He hacked through the thorn and the bush and took the cuts and the wounds so you wouldn’t have to. I begged and pleaded for you to look at what he did for you, what he is doing for you. But your eyes were still wild with lust and you could not see clearly. You stumbled over and over and over. So far gone you were, I could barely see you. I could hear your cry but the darkness surrounding you is getting thicker.

My adopted son, listen to me now. This path you have chosen is nothing compared to the life I have for you. No matter how far you go and wildly you run, I am still with you. We walked together once and my  light will forever be on your heart. No matter the darkness, my light can never be extinguished. No matter how hard you try to deny me in your life, I will always be there. Watching. Protecting. Loving.

You are my man. I have great things for you. Bigger things then you could ever imagine. I will take you to the farthest regions of the world bring many into salvation through you. Just know, my adopted son, I am pursuing you even now. Just one glance in my direction and I will come running. I am after your heart even now. Give ear and hear. There is an itch under your skin for something more. Something bigger. There is a restlessness in your heart at the life you have chosen. It’s me. I am knocking. I am coming for you. I will relentlessly pursue you with everything I have. My mark is on your heart and I am a good shepherd.

Will you trust me now?

I am coming to pull you out and give you life. Hang on to something. It’s going to get loco.

This is dedicated to my best friend from the time I could walk. Give ear, brother, and choose life.

-jungejon

Update: Cycling, Diets, and 117.

It’s been a while since I last posted. So, here is an update on life.

Last weekend was my first ever bike race where drafting was legal. It was awesome. I felt strong. All the miles I had put in since this time last year were finally being felt and I was finally counting them as significant. The course itself was 28 miles of flatness in south Georgia. Needless to say, the pace was fast and was getting faster. I was getting stronger. Macy (my bike) and I were fluid, like water. Cruising up and down the peloton at will, all the while smiling big, wonderful smiles. About 20 miles in, I heard the first sharp intake of breath as member of the peloton started to get winded. This only made my legs stronger. The smell of blood in the water. Could my first race be my first victory? I was certainly beginning to believe it. Then it happened. With about 6 miles to go, terror struck. The folks at Georgia Southern decided to add a three mile stretch of road that was unpaved. They called it hard-packed Georgia red clay. They lied. It was sand. All sand. I hit the sand and found my back tire fish tailing. I was losing her. I could only hold on a little while longer. Bikes and bodies were hitting the ground all around me. Then it was my turn. I laid her down. As soon as I hit the ground I looked up to see a rider from Clemson hit my bike and flip over his handle bars. I hopped back up and tried to get back on only to notice my chain had fallen off and Macy was temporarily unrideable. I watched in anguish as the last few scragglers road away, leaving Macy and I alone in the woods on a road covered in sand. I fixed her and hopped back on. I struggled all the way out because my cleats were full of sand and didn’t clip into my pedals. However, on the way out, I picked up a dejected rider from Alabama. I could of sworn I heard him speaking the unintelligible words of a man gone mad as he grabbed on my wheel. After a few more miles of nervous agony, pavement came into view. My heart kipped. We hit the road with fury and there was a thought in my mind of catching the main field. Would my legs be strong enough? Could I ride hard enough? I was surely going to try. So, we rode and picked up another rider from Georgia Tech. Then there were three. I was pulling, the other guys were hanging on. We came to the last turn, and a race official emphatically pointed us right. Two minutes later we realized he had emphatically pointed us in the wrong direction. We turned. We shouldn’t have. It was over. But, in the back of my mind, I heard Billy and Bryan’s words, “You better not be able to walk when you get off that bike.” So, I figured I might as well make the other two guys hurt on the way into the finish. I did. I pulled the whole way home. The last three miles was set at a pace close to 26mph. With about half a mile to go, Georgia Tech took the lead and gave my legs about ten seconds of needed recovery which was all they needed for the final sprint. I hammered with about 200 yards to go and held off the other two. Out of three it was me. But, I wasn’t satisfied. I wanted a chance for the final sprint and I didn’t get it. Could I have won? Maybe. At least, I believed I could. And that’s the hardest part.

Next week is North Georgia. It’s time for the men to stand up. Who will be the King of the Mountain?

In other news, (related to cycling) I’ve started a new diet in an effort to find some more speed and build some leaner muscle. I’ll trade good tasting food for speed any day of the week. I’ve been on it for about two weeks and I’m getting there. It’s not perfect yet, but I’m working with a guy to set goals and work out meal times. Hopefully I’ll start dropping some poundage and make someone cry from the speed eminating from my tires.

However great those things are, life is exploding in 117 Hunters Run (my house). At the beginning of the semester I felt the Lord telling me to lead my house and take the guys living here into a beautiful relationship with our Savior. I mentioned to them that I wanted to start praying on Tuesday nights. To my surprise, they all wanted to be apart. It started slow, but the Lord has been faithful and each week he has revealed himself in more and more powerful ways. There have been major victories won and each one of the guys in this house is quickly becoming a man of God. The change is evident. It’s almost been like watching a movie. Every Tuesday night we meet and every Tuesday night we leave being refueled. Last week we sat in silence and breathed in the Holy Spirit for half an hour. When we were done Billy said, “When we were praying, I saw a vision of Jesus standing in the room nodding at each one of our prayers.” Sick. Beautiful. Power.

That’s all for now. Drink Coffee. Ride a bike. Dance.

-junglejon