Struggling in the shadow of civilization

Walking along mile after mile of hiking trail, it is quiet. Eerily quiet. The only sounds stem from the occasional breezes and the gnats or other bugs buzzing close to your ear. The twilight hours of a Tuesday afternoon offer up a little bit of wildlife. A bug here. A fish or two there. The multiple species of turtles in aquariums next to stuffed Ivory-billed woodpeckers and passenger pigeons in the visitor center.

The lack of sound is relaxing. It is calming. After a day of class from eight in the morning almost until 3:25, the idea of escaping to a nature center, to an oasis, is quite nice to the average Knoxville resident. 

The North Cove Trail, leading out from the front door of the visitor center, is the first stop for the average traveler or visitor to Ijams Nature Center and Wildlife Reserve. From here, the artery-like highway system of trails and loops and connectors interweave within the dense forests across the 275-acre wildlife sanctuary and nature area. Trails head uphill, downhill, through natural tunnels of trees and across wooden bridges, connecting all parts of the park. The little trails that leak off of the main trail give access to spots on the Tennessee River, while also providing cool shortcuts or detours for the curious hiker. 

The colors are vibrant all over the place. There are the vivid reds of berries on a tree branch, the purples, yellows and a flurry of other colors in the flowerbeds by the greenhouse, the former Ijams-family homesite, the blue from the sky peeking through the cracks of the brown and green canopy and under layers of the trees in what appears to be an untouched environment. Sure, the occasional wooden plank tied down by a metal bar latched into the ground isn't natural, but one can turn the other cheek and chalk that up to safety precautions. 

Within a mile of walking, the shaded forests open up to a boardwalk, just downstream from the beginnings of the Tennessee River. The views are just simply gorgeous and the quiet atmosphere continues to impress a first-time visitor like myself. There a serene tranquility to this area and little human traffic or human distractions whatsoever. A lone paddler glides across the water and a person walking her dog or a fellow classmate trying to grasp the importance and beauty of this place makes for a great setting.

And then a speedboat zooms down the river. 

It is almost startling. The sound from the boat cruising towards downtown Knoxville, along with the succeeding waves heading toward the coastline, puts a lot into perspective. As much as the average person wants to get away from the crazy, hectic life of a city like Knoxville, going just five or ten minutes out of the way does not fully present the feeling of isolation and serenity.  

If the speedboat does not do it, then it is the airplane flying high above the Tennessee River, landing at nearby Island Home Airport or over at McGhee-Tyson Airport, just 10 to 20 miles to the south. If it's not that, then it's the industrial facility right next door to the edge of the park. If it's not that, then it's the power lines that cut through the eastern end of the park, adding an odd feel to this area.

The nature center is a great idea and a great attraction for those that want to take a step out of downtown Knoxville and enjoy some serene peacefulness. It is a nice place, don't get me wrong. And it is certainly off the beaten path--driving across the train tracks and through the run-down residential areas of South Knoxville is required to reach this hidden destination.


One of the only things regarding Ijams is that it plays little brother almost to the huge--and isolated--Great Smoky Mountains National Park, about 40 miles south of Knoxville city center. Where Ijams deals with power lines and speedboats, the national park makes up for with authentic peacefulness in the mountains, where little or no outside forces affect the atmosphere.

Ijams is still a solid attraction that the immediate Knoxville area can call their own. It is certainly a lot closer to downtown and it provides a more close-up, personal view of area plants and wildlife and historic sites than GSMNP provides. No need to deal with the tourists in the Smokies or the long drive it takes to get there. Despite its little flaws, Ijams is a great destination to spend a few hours and simply relax. 

The Walk--9/12/12

"Behold, this day your eyes have seen how the LORD gave you today into my hand in the cave. And some told me to kill you, but I spared you. I said, ‘I will not put out my hand against my lord, for he is the LORD's anointed.’ See, my father, see the corner of your robe in my hand. For by the fact that I cut off the corner of your robe and did not kill you, you may know and see that there is no wrong or treason in my hands. I have not sinned against you, though you hunt my life to take it. May the LORD judge between me and you, may the LORD avenge me against you, but my hand shall not be against you. As the proverb of the ancients says, ‘Out of the wicked comes wickedness.’ But my hand shall not be against you. After whom has the king of Israel come out? After whom do you pursue? After a dead dog! After a flea! May the LORD therefore be judge and give sentence between me and you, and see to it and plead my cause and deliver me from your hand.”

(1 Samuel 24:10-15 ESV)

Prayer. The act of voicing one's thanks, concerns, adoration. A personal discussion with God. Always ended the same way...."in Jesus's name, Amen."

But what does this mean? It's so often and too easy for Christians to go through this and forget its meaning. It's literal and its actual meaning. We're praying everything in the name of Jesus. That's kind of a big deal.

I went to the Walk at Sevier Heights tonight and I enjoy it. It's a great addition to the rest of my busy week, especially on a day like Wednesday, where the middle of the week can bring the stress and pressure of half a week to come. It also provides some simple, yet very helpful, reminders of where I stand with God.

We, and I, are susceptible to pray to God with an idea of wanting to forward progress. It's not an unheard  of idea. Society has one idea that involves everyone in school to go as far as they can and achieve the utmost  highest achievements as possible. Not a problem, necessarily. It becomes a problem when we take this mindset and apply it to our prayer. Praying should not be an idea of progress and this is one aspect where Christians, including myself, get into trouble.

I will not sacrifice obedience for the sake of convenience.

In the above verses from 1 Samuel, David, the eventual king appointed by God, goes against the popular belief of his friends to kill Saul, who, at the time, was the king appointed by God. Saul, who went out to kill David and his men, happened to enter the same cave as David and his men. David then went and cut off a corner of Saul's robe, but was quickly repentant and convicted of his act. Cutting corners (figuratively, not just in this literal sense) goes against our obedience, goes against who we are as humans, our character that God has provided for us. If we keep on taking every open door that becomes available to us, even if it goes against who we are and what our values are, then are we honoring God and giving God the glory? Every door that becomes open doesn't necessarily come from God. The perfect opportunity needs to be weighed with the Word of God. Is this where God wants me to go? The perfect opportunity might be perfect for a number of reasons, but it's probably filled with emotions, which tend to fog or cloud our judgment and decision-making process (I should know...).

A simple idea, but one that many struggle with and one that convicts many. Throw a krispy kreme donut on top and it makes for a wonderful Wednesday night.

A Time of Thanksgiving

Neyland Stadium can get pretty loud. It's a known fact to everyone everywhere that knows anything about college football. When 90 to 100,000+ people are packed into one stadium, covered in orange and white, it is quite a spectacular sight for anyone to see.

The Georgia Dome in Atlanta does not quite have the same atmosphere. Still, when most of the 55,000 person crowd dons orange and amps up the noise level in an echo-friendly dome, the experience is overall enjoyable.

While there is a certain feeling of school pride when Tennessee chants flood the stadium and seas of orange flow in all directions, the experience was enjoyable far beyond the football (Dare I say? Yes, yes I do.). The day (and weekend, for that matter) that was punctuated by football was highlighted more by service, by chemotherapy waste bags, by books filled with words that are unknown to most of the population, by thanksgiving.

Chemo waster bags are heavy! I mean, taking out each bag by four or five at a time eventually add up when you realize that you've filled up one box of 100 and there's still just as many, if not more, in the original box. Or all the Pediatric Journals that someone apparently didn't want, using all sorts of medical jargon that, at least to the Journalism major, might as well be in Greek or Russian or Hungarian. Boxes and boxes of medical supplies piled against a wall, set for sorting into boxes, eventually to be shipped out to countries around the world from one small warehouse in suburban Georgia. One truck with supplies for El Salvador even left the day our group ended up working there.

It's humbling.
It's fun.

Yes, when it's all said and done, sorting through boxes of medical supplies that we'll never see again because it'll be in a foreign country is fun. Doing something beyond yourself is fun. Waking up at 7 in the morning to go on a three or four hour bus ride only to come back at 4 that next morning is fun. Serving is fun.

The whole thing is humbling.

After the past few weeks, this trip and this weekend was almost like a wake-up call. I've been reminded of all of the blessings that I've been given and realized the lies that I was believing prior to Friday. Just took a few diapers and books and waste bags to come to the realization.

The Circle of Life

A church is supposed to be a home. A symbolic home, meant to serve as a sacred place on earth to symbolize what is in store in heaven after death. A church is a special place, like a jigsaw puzzle, made up of many parts, may units, many different features that make it a unique combination (see 1 Corinthians 12:12). The people that make up a church are all care. The body is compassionate, concerned about each member, quick to pray for someone or simply be encouraging and say that one thing that makes someone's day that much better.

I guess I just need God to remind me of that daily. 

---

Transitioning always seems to be tough and I have struggled to understand why. The trials of moving back into a place after being removed for months on end is understandably not totally easy. Despite anything I do or anywhere I go, life continues to fly by at a rate and speed that it is impossible to catch. Coming back into that place and realizing a lot has gone without you takes some getting used to. 

---

Welcome Week at a campus the size of a small to medium-sized town is always an adventure. People flood in from all directions at the same time. Cars are jammed everywhere; Freshmen are confused, struggling to find their classrooms; organizations try to obtain as many people as possible. Welcome Week for a campus ministry is just as hectic, just as busy, just as stressful. Activities every day, maybe several times a day. Conversations are endless, between new people and veterans, old friends that haven't seen each other in months, new people trying to gain a foothold in this crazy environment that is college. Everyone trying to get a sense of everyone. For a veteran, there is a certain pressure that tempts one to speak with as many people as possible, or rather feel that he or she needs to speak to as many people as possible. Failure seems imminent with this mindset, but the thought still lingers. 

---

Then there's problems that life tends to throw at a person. Common problems that can be identifiable. 

"I have trouble with change." 

"Transitioning is difficult to deal with."

"I have problems, but I don't want to be a burden to someone or burden someone with said problems."

"I can take care of said problems myself." 

"Can someone please ask me what is wrong!?!?"

"I don't want to ask for help because it makes me look weak and/or inadequate."

Guilty on all counts. One would think that these problems would be solved by now or prevented after dealing with them over and over. It's like you're running on a hamster wheel and the cycle keeps repeating and repeating itself, making life a continuous loop of having problems, dealing with them, feeling better and then being tempted again into believing that these problems are either A) serious enough to make life that much harder for us, or B) just plain lies. 

---

My family constantly would tell me that asking for help was something that my brother and I should do or consider. I never liked doing it, feeling that I was not capable of figuring something out myself if asking was the only remaining option. In retrospect, I guess I should have realized that, according to the Bible, people are not really capable of doing anything perfectly (2 Corinthians 12:9-10, Romans 5, etc.). As much as I deny it, I need help. I struggle, I mess up, I need guidance, assistance, care, among other things. 

I guess I just need God to remind me of that daily. 

Thanks God! I see what you did there...

Coming back to college in the fall, the first time I see any of my friends again, the question of how my summer was is always at the top of the list of things asked. Naturally, I suppose. Leaving Knoxville for months on end usually ends up being either really quick, really long or somewhat uneventful. I always wonder why that was for such a period of time, this year being no different, especially when one throws into the mix the feeling of knowing that I had to do something with my summer this time around.

Enter Branson, Missouri. A southwestern city that is known for the outdoors, the theatres and the constant amount of tourists of many ages (including many on the right end of the age spectrum in retirement). This place was a place where the family and I never considered traveling to on one of our many vacations. Pretty much, I was okay that I would ever end up in this city.

So, of course, it would be a bit odd to then consider that on May 22, I was on a couple of two hour flights to said Missouri city--and I could not have been more excited. Flying into Springfield, MO, consisted of green, green, more green, a few bales of yellow, more green and then a hint of grayish color marking the skyline of downtown way off in the distance. Up until that point, I did not think of Missouri having a ton of hay bales. I was soon mistaken. This would be a common theme throughout my time in Missouri.

So, first blessing of the entire experience came at the airport. Arriving on time for the first shuttle, I failed to realize that my shuttle reservation had apparently not made it to the driver of the van, so I was set to wait four more hours for the next shuttle. Anxious enough as I was to actually get up and go, sitting around by myself in an unfamiliar airport was not a great-sounding idea. Thankfully, I was able to squeeze into the final spot and averted any kind of wait. There was plenty of room in the van (but I'm small).

But why mention this? Why the excitement of being in a place I wasn't thrilled to be in any other time? In a way, Branson was an oasis, a place to get away and be changed. A place where, despite any prior belief, the littlest thing becomes magnified and the littlest of people turn your thoughts and beliefs in a totally opposite direction.. Specifically, Kamp (yes, with a K. That's how we do things here) is a place unlike many other places. It's different, it's amazing, it's blessed.

--

The road along Lake Taneycomo's east bank winds its way up, down, sideways all the way to its end, but one driveway on the left hand side stands out from among the rest. Two doors--two big, red barn doors swing open, exposing a tall water slide, a nice-sized pool and a humongous statue of a guy that looks like a mix between a scarecrow and a hillbilly. A banner in red and blue marks this place to be K-Kountry, "The Happiest Place on Earth." A fairly lofty slogan, sure, and one that certainly comes with high expectations when one hears it, but its doable. It's achievable. It's a sign of things to come.

Stepping out of the van into my new home for the next two months, I am humbled fairly quickly. The driveway is filled with college students filing in, unpacking, unloading, talking with people they might have seen from prior years, having those somewhat awkward conversations with people they have just met...sound familiar, anyone? I guess going through my fair share of Welcome Weeks and Orientations had prepared me for such. Note, I'm at a sports camp, so there are quite a few people that obviously look athletic or very well in shape. I am not so much either. Okay, not a huge deal. This certainly wasn't the first time I'd been with a bunch of athletes. The next thing one notices among the swarms of college students is the amount of shirts or tanks with Greek letters--all of this is now hitting me at once. One of my many social weaknesses is connecting to athletes and Greek system members, Christian or not. I don't know, it's just been harder for me to connect to certain groups of people...I just had never been in an environment where the majority was one or the other or both. Welcome to K-Kountry.

It constantly boggles my mind when I think back to kamp. Thoughts of why I was supposed to be there, why did I have to work with everyone from one social group, how can I connect with 7-11 year old kids constantly ran through my mind three months ago. So many unanswered questions, so much doubt, so many nerves. Leaving two months later and the doubt and confusion was changed to confidence and clarity. Being dressed up as anything and everything under the sun. Bellyflopping numerous times because a group of kids want you to. Screaming your head off in support at all 200-300 (give or take) kids when they take the podium at opening day because you could not be happier for each kid to be there. The memories make it what it is. God makes it what it is. Whether one believes in God or not, it is hard to not see that something is being done on the lake shore in Branson.

To the staff: I mentioned at the end of staff week my concerns, my worries, my differences to all you guys. My job easily could have gone in any direction in terms of success or productivity. I know for a fact that my job could not have happened how it happened without you all. The constant signs of encouragement, support and building me up were not unnoticed and were definitely all appreciated. Posting all the photos brought back waves and waves of nostalgia, you have no idea! The many conversations, the many memories, the many friendships are certainly not forgotten here in Knoxville, Tennessee. I love all of you dearly. I miss all of you terribly. I want to keep in touch with you all (please?). Can't wait to see you soon! Thank you for making this summer one of the best (and my favorite) summers ever.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z3TKtO9K9OM

Sophomore Year

Walking the cobblestone and brick streets of the Freedom Trail in Downtown Boston gives a real sense of insight into the history and culture of the biggest city in New England. The old, historic architecture weaves into the new, modern buildings and skyscrapers, giving Boston a unique touch not found in many cities. In the residential and collegiate areas near Back Bay, just west of downtown, lies Fenway Park, a refreshing (depending on who you ask) change from the modern-day ballparks popping up across the country.

In the wet row of the right field bleachers, in the heart of home, are remnants of a second home. Rather than the normal activities of watching and constantly paying attention to the game taking place center stage, there is conversation. There is chatter. There is laughter. There is fun had by all there, some for the first time in Fenway, some for the first time at a ballgame, all having fun. Here, the familiar sights and sounds of home merge with the new-found experiences of Knoxville.

This past school year brought more amazing memories, enticing adventures and continual praises to God. A number of changes have taken place between the end of Freshman year and the beginning of this past year, but throughout all the trials, tribulations, ups and downs, God has always been so sustaining and present. Looking back through the albums and albums on Facebook, many memories jump out. Baptism in a swimming pool, hiking in the mountains, more (and more and more) weddings, tennis, long bus rides and a ton more...two years already gone like that. Dang....

All of that leads into the upcoming two months, where the comfortable life of home transforms into life in the woods, in cabins at a summer camp in Branson, Missouri. Kanakuk Kamps (yes, with a K) presents the next challenge and next opportunity. As a staff photographer, the chance of improving the photography is obviously there, but also having a chance to talk with fellow staff and campers from across the country from ages 7-11 is such as gift that is incredibly exciting. This time tomorrow and I will be situated into an air-conditioned cabin in the woods of the Ozarks, across the river from Branson.

April 23, 2011

Sunlight shines through the trees and blankets the trail, winding itself through the woods. The mountain streams jump over the boulders stuck in the bottom, causing a hiker to wade through water and jump onto the rock face to get to the other side.

The poles used as guidance try to form a rhythm with the hiker's feet, simultaneously touching the ground with the opposite foot, but constantly going in tune with the wrong foot, causing the hiker to slow up more times than needed.

The hiker has been through a lot in a period of time. Mile 25 of the almost 30-mile trek and he is still standing. Somehow. What started out as a strong few miles ahead of the pack turned slowly but surely into an almost wheezing middle of the road before ending off at a somewhat level mark. Not to mention the longer journey that took seemingly an entire year to traverse.

--

Walking down the trail blanketed by sunlight, a voice breaks the silence. It's a calm, curious voice, asking a question that sounded a bit too familiar to the hiker.

"Are you a Christian?"

The hiker knew where this was going....oh well...

"I don't know."

"Well, why don't you know?" He always had to ask that next question after the initial one.

"I don't know."

The mixture of frustration, fatigue and near anger was building within. One of those Strawberry smoothie-like   Power Bar things was needed. Anything not to go off on a bitter rampage. The voice had heard this all before, though. Maybe a bit too much.

"Well, do you believe Christ is the Savior? That He died for your sins on the cross? That the wrath you deserved was placed upon Him?"

By this point, the hiker was so exhausted that he couldn't recall what the voice had asked him.

"Yes."

Yes? Why did he say yes? Was it the frustration? Was it the fatigue? Was it just to appease the voice and make it silent and not ask those same questions that had been asked time in and time out? No one may ever know.

--

A Power Bar and many plates of buffet lunch later and the hiker almost passes out on a bed. The house is quiet. Very quiet. A guitar plays in the background, playing the music that would soon be heard by hundreds and hundreds the next morning. The music is peaceful, soothing and calm, all needed after what the prior three days had brought to the weary hiker.

Minutes go by. Then hours. Then more hours. The day goes on and soon becomes night, but as the hours went on, the seconds tick down, one by one. Many seconds had been ticking down for quite a long time, as if someone had placed a permanently-ticking stopwatch on one's life.

What does it all mean? The time on the trail is still in the hiker's mind. Yes. Yes. Yes. What is he thinking about? Why did he say yes? Did he believe what he was saying? Impossible. This hiker had said no. I don't know. Possibly. Sort of. Yes was a far-fetched answer.

Why did he say yes?

--

The movie screen projects an image in the cold garage. Sprawled out on couches that covered the ground, an image dominates the screened. Red is everywhere, taking over the screen like water covering an expansive area. The parts that weren't red display a man. Looking up, mouth open, but words are unable to come out. Long, deep breaths are the most that escape from his mouth, the one area that does not look badly damaged. The sky is dark, gloomy, ominous, as if wrath and fury are about to strike down, the same way right before a major storm is about to touch down on a land.

The image is powerful. Captivating. It strikes emotion to those in the room and it speaks to those in the room. Everyone in the room. The image is a visual. One of those visuals that stays with a person for a long time. It is late when the movie ends. After a long weekend, it is finally time to go to sleep.

--

The hiker's eyes open differently than ever before. Sitting up in bed for the first time that morning, he is different. He feels different. He feels funny. Not like sick funny, just funny. Different funny. What is this feeling in him? Happiness follows this feeling. What happened yesterday?

More than he at first realized.

More than he could understand.

More than he will ever know.

Because that day was April 23, 2011. One year ago.

"It's the repetition of affirmations that leads to belief. And once that belief becomes a deep conviction, things begin to happen." --Muhammad Ali