Keith and Eve were married on January 14 in Milwaukee, WI. They had a gorgeous ceremony with some creative music choices - including a Latin piece that I heard had some sensual lyrics to it (when I say Latin, I don't mean Latin American...I mean dead language Latin).

I took the above pic on my cell phone, hence the graininess. I loved sharing in this special day with Keith and Eve and it was an added bonus to see my sister and some other great friends, too.

For those of you who are wondering why I drove 12 hours to be in this wedding, well, they're unquestionably a top notch couple. And our lives intersected in a major way when I traveled around the world with Keith for about six months last year.

As a sidenote, Keith and I not only share many interests, but we also look strikingly similar to one another. So much so that I had his mother and sister constantly mistaking me for him all weekend. On top of that I had one relative introducing me to people as Keith's brother (he doesn't even have a brother!).

So Keith & Eve, congratulations! May your journey together be fruitful and filled with adventures!

After a 25-minute drive from Rapid City, I found myself reading a sign at the trailhead which stated, “Whisper when talking with others.” Welcome to Mato Paha or Bear Mountain! This particular peak (now Bear Butte State Park) is of utmost spiritual significance in the Black Hills area. Towering more than a thousand feet above the plains, Sioux through the years have seen this as a place where the creator - Wankan Tanka or Great Spirit – communicates through visions. In other words, the creator makes himself known here in special ways. Such notable leaders as Red Cloud, Crazy Horse, and Sitting Bull climbed this sacred mountain to connect with their creator. (If this isn’t enough to pique your interest, the Cheyenne believed this to be the spot where their prophet, Sweet Medicine, received four sacred arrows, four commandments, and their moral code. In other words, this mountain in western South Dakota is the Cheyenne version of Mt. Sinai!) The shroud of mystery and significance surrounding this place was palatable before I even took my first step up the path.

From a distance I couldn’t help but think that the mountainside looked as if it had been TeePee-ed with a rainbow of toilet paper colors, or maybe an entire elementary school worth of kids’ colorful garments were hanging out to dry. A seasoned traveler might have figured them to be Buddhist prayer flags. The latter option being the closest to the truth, I was in fact walking amidst a sea of Native American prayer cloths. Each prayer cloth, tattered and faded by the relentless South Dakota winds, represented fervent prayers offered by Sioux worshipers.

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I don’t claim to know much about Native American history beyond what I learned in public school, but having moved to the heart of the Great Sioux Nation I find myself wanting to learn more. I am both intrigued and offended when I come across paragraphs like these:

In 1868, the US government signed a treaty with [the Sioux people] exempting the Black Hills from all white settlement forever. Four years later, gold was discovered there, and an influx of prospectors descended upon the area, abetted by army commanders like General George Armstrong Custer.

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Though overrun by thousands of visitors in the summer months, I was surely the only visitor on this day. The solitude, the gray, cloud-covered sky, and the heavy gusts of wind only added to the mystique and grandeur of the experience. After crunching my way up the rocky trail for about 35 minutes, I made the summit just in time to take in the days’ last rays shooting out over the Black Hills. It was in fact a beautiful sight in every direction.

While I didn't receive any visions from the Creator, my journey to the summit of Mato Paha has thus far been my most significant identification with Sioux culture. Despite the bitter cold, January winds, I did take some time of thoughtful prayer at the top. Along with many before me, I, too, prayed to the Wankan Tanka [as revealed through Jesus].

A couple more cool pictures from the day-hike can be viewed HERE.
A thoughtful article about Bear Butte can be viewed HERE.

I have really sensed an outpouring of love and support surrounding this whole heart situation. Wow! Thank you. I had no idea when I wrote that post the other day so many of you would take the time to write me an email, make a phone call, share passages of Scripture, give me a hug, etc. God has used you to comfort me.

One thing has become clear. It is a beautiful thing to be part of a community of people. Summer of ’04 I was in between communities. I had my family of course, but I was gone from college and hadn’t really launched into whatever was next. Five months into being in Rapid City, many are already caring for me as their own family. Tuesday night at our church board/advisory team meeting I had several of the leaders of our church laying hands on me and lifting me up to our Creator and Sustainer. It was powerful. Community at work is a beautiful thing.

A part of me balks at this ‘attention’. I’m not one wanting to draw attention to myself or to be in the spotlight. It seems ironic, but I think that part of me is actually the pride talking. “I don’t need help! I’ve got it together!” See, I’m much more comfortable being the one supporting/encouraging others. But meaningful community is a two way street. It’s being honest when life is crazy. There’s a certain amount of authenticity and vulnerability that is necessary for vibrant community to develop and exist over the long haul. So I’m learning how to put myself in a place of just being honest. I do need help. I don’t have it all together. And many of you have risen to the opportunity to empathize and encourage me in a time when I can really use it. Thank you!

A good friend of mine wrote, “Words are failing me other than to say the un-spiritual, un-helpful, un-insightful, un-dignified, understated comments of ‘I'm sorry and that sucks.’" She hit the nail on the head! Despite that truth, all I can do is move forward, you know? There’s no sense wallowing in the suckiness. If I can’t do anything about the situation, then I’m better off just moving on. Keep walking. And I’ll be walking with you in this beautiful thing called community.

I was 90% excited and 10% apprehensive about going back to the Mayo Clinic this past week. I was virtually certain they would give me a clean bill of health and send me on my way to lead a full and active life. The smaller part of me, however, was aware of the potential for bad news. There was only one way to find out: drive eight hours one way across the unending flatness of South Dakota and Minnesota.

As many of you know, I had open heart surgery in August 2004. (For those of you who don’t know much about that experience you can catch up by reading this, this, & this.) The short of it is that I was born with a malformed tricuspid valve. While my life has in many ways revolved around sports, hiking, and leading an active lifestyle, all the while the right side of my heart has been working overtime trying to make up for the massive amounts of blood flowing the wrong way. Then I had tricuspid valve repair surgery to get that fixed, or so I thought.

Every Sunday night I run the fast-break as well as any of the other guys out for some exercise via basketball. But unfortunately I still have a pretty messed up heart. The attempt at repairing the valve was relatively unsuccessful after all. It was the right thing to do, but it didn’t turn out as we hoped. Despite being symptom free, with every beat I still have a significant amount of blood leaking the wrong through my tricuspid valve. This leads to decreased heart function, and my heart is slowly enlarging from having to work so hard. It’s a situation that is slowly getting worse, not better. That’s why I heard these words on Thursday, “You’re going to need heart surgery again.” You can bet my heart sank.

So instead of valve repair surgery, I’ll be having valve replacement surgery at some point in the next few years. I’m slotted to go back to Mayo in six months for further tests, and then every six to twelve months thereafter. One of those visits, sometime in the next year to four years most likely, will be the visit where we set a date for the procedure. Just like last time my breastbone will be divided, my heart will be stopped, and my blood will be sent through a heart-lung machine. Unlike last time, I will have a heart valve from a pig inserted in place of my own. And unless technology drastically develops, I’ll be having that same procedure every ten to eighteen years – that’s about how long the pig valves last.

The road I thought I was on looked like this, “You have a serious problem but you can take drastic measures and fix the problem.” Instead I’m on a new road, “You have a serious problem, and you will be dealing with this serious problem with drastic measures for the rest of your life.” The former road was a mirage for me. And notice that while these two roads look very alike at first glance, they in fact are not. I thought my problem, my condition, was in the past tense. Now I foresee a life involving heart valve replacement surgery after heart valve replacement surgery.

While intense disappointment came with changing roads like this, my characteristic optimism and steadiness have regained themselves. I can claim as always that God is in control; He is not surprised by these developments. Furthermore I can be thankful for an age in which these conditions are both diagnosed and treated – a mere fifty years ago that was not the case. I’m also grateful that the finest medical institution in the world for such a malady is a mere eight hour drive/two hour flight from my doorstep. And you can bet that my family is hugely supportive while my geographically-scattered friends are as a second family to me.

Trust me when I say I’m not looking forward to a second heart surgery and the ensuing recovery period. But with that being said, it gives me renewed motivation to make the most of each passing day.

You're outside. Even though you're only wearing a t-shirt and shorts you're not cold. In fact you're basking in the warmth of the sun's afternoon rays. You have to squint a bit, but you'd trade that any day for the feeling that is coursing through your body. It is as though every cell in your body is fully alive. The sights, sounds, and smells that surround you are breathtaking; maybe you are experiencing true beauty for the first time. Each sense is wholly engaged, absorbing even the finest of details. Found within the light breeze that wraps around your body can be detected the subtle fragrances of alpine wildflowers and of course the stronger smell of the knee-length grass all around. The deep greens of the grassy meadow blend into the even deeper greens of the spruces and pines in the distance. As your vision continues to pan up you notice that masses of these trees are working their way up the rocky, granite mountainsides. Possibly they are making an assault on a lofty battement, or better yet a larger force is at work washing wave upon wave of these trees against the sides of the mountains and the spray from each collision leaves a cluster of trees here and there at the higher elevations. The mountains that rear up in each direction, holding your little meadow in place, bear shades of gray that are anything but drab. The massive lumps of rock (projecting perseverance and stability) join arms with the stately and majestic peaks (projecting nobility and beauty) as they all look respectfully up toward the all encompassing sky. Liquid sounds remind you of the meandering stream that continues on its downhill journey, unaware of the waterfalls, valleys, and eventually oceans to come. You could stay here forever taking it all in. This place that you have found is beautiful and it is good.

You decide in that moment that you would do everything in your power to keep this place whole and undamaged. One could imagine what loggers and bulldozers would be able to do to such a landscape; scarring and scalping; undoing in moments what took hundreds of years to be shaped and formed. It would be a tragedy to see hamburger wrappers and beer cans scattered in alongside the Indian Paintbrush, Bluebells, and Wallflowers, let alone replacing them altogether. This place is beautiful and good.

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Our lives can be a movement toward beauty and goodness, or they can go to waste. For many of us we have become accustomed to the beer cans and burger wrappers of materialism or complacency or pride or poverty or disease or war that are littered across the meadow of our lives. The forest of faith and trust and hope was long ago chopped down by fear and doubt and greed and spiritual apathy. The clouds of power-grabbing and injustice long ago blotted out the warm rays of generosity and hospitality to all. The meandering stream of service and sacrifice was stopped up by laziness and selfishness, never to reach the ocean and the potential of changing the world.

We are created for goodness and beauty in the way of Jesus. Let’s form communities of people who have eyes to see what the valley might look like one day. Even if it takes living with indefatigable perseverance in peace and love.

Yesterday was a breakthrough on the slopes in many ways. It was my first time this year to not go alone! Chris Swarty, youth pastor at First Wesleyan across town, shared the day with me. It was a blast cruising the slopes with him! On top of that, I took my new iPod Shuffle along. It is getting hard to remember life before Shuffle; I love it! And as if that were not enough, they have now opened up the other half of Terry Peak since we have been getting more snow. This alone made the skiing experience at least twelve times better than before. In a word: options. Tons of blue and black slopes became available that were previously shut down. All these combined for a great day of enjoying being active and outdoors.

Here's a shot of Chris:

There's this feeling that you get sometimes at summer camp or spiritual emphasis week. It usually comes during the latter part of the final gathering in a series of powerful gatherings. Everything gets stretched out a bit so that the moment can be soaked in a little longer. Nobody wants it to come to an end. Such good things shouldn't come to an end.

That moment came at about 9pm Friday night at the Denver Wesleyan Youth Convention. Using the Greek word for "word", Logos5 truly was about proclaiming the Word and emphasizing its importance in living out a conversational relationship with God. Hundreds of students responded in meaningful ways during the three days of the convention. It was a beautiful thing!

Of the 1200+ people there, I had the privilege of sharing the experience with ten students and two other leaders (who were phenomenal; thanks Luke & Shari!) from FSCC. One of my students exclaimed, "I didn't even know there was stuff like this. I mean, that so many people would gather together to praise God and learn about Him!" And that's pretty much what it was, a massive and intense opportunity to worship and learn. All the while relationships were being fostered on deeper levels. I loved it!