A Hero is Gone – A Personal Tribute to Pastor Glen D. Cole

  

If death had granted him a moment to convey the sentiment, Pastor Cole would have declared his tragic and sudden passing on Valentine's Day a happy transit.  For this is how he viewed the world.  No matter how bad things appeared, how gloomy the clouds turned, he was extraordinary.  In the darkest moments of life, those times that derail and destroy most of us, he was always at his best.  He thought and lived beyond death, beyond the dark, beyond the grave.

Pastor Cole was my one and only pastor.  When God gave me a pastor, he smiled greatly and blessed my life enormously by giving me the best.  He was my mentor, my leader, my friend, and one of my life heroes.  There will never be another like him.  He had an aura about him.  He was a man who lifted everyone's spirits and lowered everyone's guard, one who accomplished so much in life.  Though it is Pastor Cole's body of achievements most will remember, it's his compassion, kindness, and giving heart I will miss.  He was the pastor, the friend, the colleague who was the first to pick up the phone and say, "I'm sorry for what happened" or "What can I do to help?"  He was the boss who was adored by his staff, so much so, they looked forward to coming to work each day and remained loyal at his side.  He was the man who sent handwritten birthday wishes, thank you cards, and encouraging notes - never losing sight of the power of personal touch.  He was the father who loved his sons, doing everything possible to bless their lives.  He was the grandfather who adored and doted on his grandchildren, making them feel special and treasured.  He was the husband who passionately loved his wife and showed us all what marriage means.

As the Pastor of my church, Glen Cole always believed in people and would see the best in them. He was a source of inspiration and hope, of courage and belief.  He gave us strength when tragedy struck, when we questioned God.  His sermons stirred the embers of our faith and reminded us of who we were, that nothing is impossible for God.  As a spiritual leader, he stood tall for us.  With God's help, he built our church, he built our school, he built our spiritual community. He built until we burst at the seams.  He was a pastor of the people, never above the people.  Every Sunday, people clamored to hear him speak, piling in for his messages as if to miss them would be to miss the rapture itself.  He always had something profound to say, something life-altering to convey, something inspiring to share, something fresh from God to transform our lives.

Pastor Cole was an amazing leader who took a personal interest in my life and the lives of his parishioners.  He truly loved people and cared for them deeply.  In my success, he was my biggest cheerleader and encourager. He is the person who paid me the highest compliment I ever received when he once introduced me at an event where I was speaking.  I will never forget the words he used and they often are a great source of hope in my immediate world and the darkness that sometimes envelops me.  In my wanderings and failures, he never focused on my personal issues.  He addressed them, then lovingly reminded me that God still had great plans for my life. "Steve, nothing can take away your calling and gifting," he would say. 

In the years I disappointed him and staggered around in a far away land, lost as a prodigal and forgotten by most, he never gave up on me nor did he forget about me.  He believed in me when I quit believing in myself.  From time to time, he sent me a note, a card, some reminder to show he cared.  Incredibly these gestures of kindness always arrived in my mailbox when they were needed most.  On one occasion I received an oversize manila envelope filled with my old writings he had saved for years.  Attached was a handwritten message that read, "I miss this great writer.  Please let him know his best days are in front of him.  God is not through with your life or wonderful gift."  I walked back inside my house with tears streaming down my face.

For me, Pastor Cole was Abraham without the doubts, Moses without the wanderings, David without the failings.  The planet has not only lost a great Christian man, it lost an honest pastor, a distinguished musician, a joyful encourager, a loving healer, a graceful reconciler, a courageous leader, a loyal friend, a devoted husband, a committed father, a dynamic preacher, a courageous leader, an inspiring visionary, and a dedicated and faithful Man of God.

Pastor, I will never forget you because I can't forget you.  To imagine a world without you is to imagine a world with a little less faith in it; a little less love in it; a little less hope in it; a little less God in it.  And this is not the kind of world where I want to live.  I will miss you more than you could ever know.  Thank you for inspiring my life, for believing in me, and for never giving up on me.  I love you with all my heart and look forward to the day when I sit with you somewhere beyond those pearly gates to tell you about the second half of my life.  Thank you for showing me the way and helping me find hope and healing again, life and love again.  Thank you for helping me find my Lord and Savior again.  Thank you for loving me in the good and the bad.

Pastor, you have gone home now, leaving us who grieve your passing with the wonderful memories you gave, the incredible good you did, the inspiring dreams you cast.  The passage of time will never completely heal the sadness of this moment.  But I will carry on as you would want me to.  I will do the best I can to emulate your amazing life, a life that demonstrated unconditional love, reflected genuine hope, and displayed astonishing faith.  Whenever I need to find you, I know where to look.  I look to where you tried to get me to look all along.  I look up.

Tender Love

A few weeks back, my friend Terry Foley shared with me a personal experience that moved me deeply.  His story demonstrated how love has its own power and is the only force capable of conquering the human heart.  As I reflect on Terry's experience, something Mother Teresa once said comes to mind, "Love to be real, it must cost, it must hurt, it must empty us of self."  In this season of love, I would like to share Terry's experience with you.  May it reaffirm in your heart that the most beautiful gift we all possess is the ability to love.  For only love can summon a response of love in our lives and in our world as the following story of Tender Love beautifully portrays.  I trust it will touch you heart in a special way.

The night came and passed and its sounds were of things a man grows accustomed to, but never trusts.  In my ignorance I lay there listening.  I held her most of the night while a blizzard blew, whiting out the room's only window.  Before drifting off, she asked me to hold her again.  Morning would soon arrive and as I lay there with her in my arms, I recalled our love story.  On this occasion, I didn't think of the bad times, only the good.  I did not want my sadness to affect her.  I would think of the bad when I was alone.  She had another love and my greatest fear was that she would shortly leave me to be with him.  But for now, she was here with me, safe in my arms and that was all that mattered.

As her head lay gently on my shoulder, I could feel her warm, irregular breathing on my neck.  After some time, she fell into a deep sleep.  I slowly removed my arms from her tender body and quietly rose from the bed.  It had been a couple of days since I changed my clothes and I wondered if I smelled.  I stumbled to one side of the room and reached down to the floor, pulled one boot on at a time, then slipped into the hallway to grab a cup of coffee.  When I returned, I sat down in a chair next to her bed and watched her.  For a long time, I stared and marveled at her indescribable beauty.  Thoughts roamed freely through my mind of all the joy she brought to my life.  I wondered, "How could a man love anyone more?"  She was beautiful, so wonderfully beautiful.  I thought back to the day I first laid my eyes upon her.  When I saw her, I was instantly filled with a passion that has not abated with time.  She arrived at a point in my life where I wanted deeper meaning in my relationships, where I wanted substance to go along with my natural exuberance for life.  All this came with my first glance of her.  From that moment on, my heart was forever hers.

Lost in my thoughts, staring silently into a reflective pool of memories, she opened her eyes, but just for a moment.  She stretched her arms toward me and I smiled and went to her.  "Hold me", she said.  Again I wrapped her tightly in my arms, never wanting to let go.  "You smell," she slowly whispered in a sleepy voice, then laughed softly and faintly.  I laughed quietly in return.  It was then she asked me the one question I feared,

"Daddy am I going to die?'

I stared into her big blue angelic eyes.

"Everyone dies, Sweetheart."

Somehow, the words comforted her as they twisted my insides.  Tears slipped from my eyes, trailed down my cheeks, and fell from my chin.  She tried her best to share her strength with me, to comfort me.  For this was my little Leigha's way.  Her first concern was always for others, especially those she loved, even as she stared death in the face.

It was several years later and twelve surgeries further, when I gave my daughter's hand to the one who would hold her in eternity.  We were alone again and I held her in my arms for the very last time.  There was a look of worry in her eyes as she stared into mine.  Experience told me, she was concerned for her mother and I. 

I pulled her close and whispered in her ear,

"Mommy and I will be fine Sweetheart." 

The break of a smile formed on her lips

"When you see Him baby, you take His hand and go with Him"

My words seemed to fill her eyes with hope.  As I gazed into them for the very last time, my fear was realized ... she left me for Him.  I felt her sweet spirit rise, leaving her pain and diseased body behind.

There has not been a day that my mind has not revisited those last minutes with my 12-year-old daughter Leigha.  Most days I go there many times over.  These days, I view that most painful moment of loss differently.  I do not see death and disease.  I do not see my frail little girl slipping away.  I now see my beautiful little angel standing in a white wedding dress, her body strong and lovely.  She is full of joy and smiling from ear to ear, holding hands with the One she loves the most.  Her Savior.  Her Healer.  Her Groom.  Now I ask you "Could a father be left with a more beautiful memory of his daughter?"

On this Valentines Day, hold those you cherish close to your heart, feel them breathe and take in their remarkable scent, and shower them with love and affection while you still have them by your side.

Random Kindness

We in the modern world have a tendency to approach life as a sequence rather than a series of moments.  Life is a constant; it's moving and changing and evolving.  I, like most, schedule my time, set goals, press ahead toward achievement and accomplishment.  Anything that gets in the way, I sometimes view as an interruption of sorts.

Today I read various stories in the Bible and began to notice how different Jesus' approach to life is from mine.  His encounters with people seem to be a series of random occurrences.  Often he let others determine his schedule.  He gave full consideration to interruptions, never allowing them to anger and dissuade him.  He paid attention to those who approached and saw worth and value in each person he came across.

Often when I ask others "What are some of the most memorable moments of your life?" I receive similar answers from dissimilar people.  Narratives come back in story form depicting someone who displayed kindness, who showed concern, who took the time to stop and listen, to hug and touch.  In short, most describe an experience where someone exhibited a random act of kindness towards them.

Life is relational, not formulaic or propositional.  More than anything, Jesus demonstrated this in his earthly life.  At no point do you see him holding seminars to offer the world propositions on how to get along.  He didn#226;#128;#153;t write books containing divine formulas for success and fulfillment.  He wrote no manifesto on life.  Unlike Muhammad and other so-called enlightened ones, Jesus penned nothing.  Others wrote about him, and what they wrote is what he displayed, what he lived out.  The majority of stories about Jesus centers on some dynamic of relationship.  His two great commandments are built on principles of relationship.  Absent of relationship there are no commandments to follow.  You can't love the Lord your God with all your heart or love your neighbor as yourself without relationship.

Jesus is a full embodiment of the Kingdom of God.  His life displays how this Kingdom functions.  Repeatedly what we see through his actions are random acts of kindness.  Jesus went around looking people in the eye to tell them they were beautiful, that he stood for them, that he believed in them.  He was not afraid of controversy, of revealing the worth of those considered worthless.  Often Jesus shunned the in-crowd by extending kindness to the outcasts.  I think of all the so-called losers of society whom Jesus touched and changed: the cripples, the blind, the lepers, the prostitutes, the poor, the wicked, the diseased.  Entire communities shunned these and told them they were no good.  But God, the King of the universe, walks down the street, looks them in the eye, holds their hands, heals their infirmities, visits their homes, eats at their tables.  That must have been the greatest moment of their lives.  His kindness unlocked the door to their hearts.  Kindness rearranged their entire world.  Twenty centuries later, that same type of kindness was still at work in the Cosmos, transforming a young boy's life and altering his destiny on a flight from Chicago.  As I read the story, I could only think #226;#128;#147; this is something Jesus would do.

At his best, when the darkness subsided and the sun shone brightly, Walter Payton could be spectacular.  He was one of football's true icons, a player so esteemed that the NFL's Man of the Year Award bears his name.  Those who knew him closely said he was a man addicted to laughter.  When he was happy, all he wanted to do was laugh and laugh.  Like most of us, he had many flaws.  But beneath those flaws was an inherent goodness and deep love for people.  He had a genuine desire to make people happy.

If fans approached him with footballs to sign, Payton first insisted on a quick game of catch.  If they wanted him to shake a child's hand, Payton knelt down and engaged the youngster in a conversation about school.  He understood the power of embracing another life, the impact it can have.  While traveling to Orlando for a vacation in 1996, Payton, sitting in first class, was told that a ten-year-old boy named Billy Kohler, who needed liver and kidney transplants, was on the plane, heading to Disney World courtesy of the Make-A-Wish Foundation.  Touched by the story, Walter asked the flight attendant to bring Billy and his father to the first class section.

The flight attendant walked to the back of the coach section and approached Billy and his father, "There's someone who would like to meet you in first class."  As Billy and his father are escorted to the front, they see Walter Payton standing in the aisle.  Walter greeted them and knelt down to Billy's level and said, "You have been facing a lot of adversity.  But know you will come through this.  No matter what follows, you need to keep your head up, you need to keep fighting forward, and you need to believe.  You have gone through more in your short life than most of us have in a lifetime."  Overcome by the moment, Billy started sobbing.  Payton reached out, embraced Billy, then tickled him beneath his chin. "You are a hero," he said.  "Just know that you are a hero."

That particular encounter had an enormous impact on the life of young Billy Kohler.  Through the dismal, excruciating and frightening months of undergoing two vital organ transplants, Payton's random act of kindness helped push him through.  On the darkest of days when Billy felt he would lose the battle for his life, Walter's words, "Keep fighting forward," propelled him to hold on and not allow his spirit to succumb.  One man's kindness dislodged the grim reaper's grip on a young boy's life, supplying him with the strength and courage needed to hold on.  Billy Kohler was not dragged through death's dark door because kindness stood in the doorway and blocked his path.  Death returned to the grave empty-handed.

It's a powerful occurrence to have someone look you in the eye and say, "You are worth something."  We owe it to ourselves and to others around us to engage in such unforgettable acts.  Deeds of kindness are a flourishing feedback loop of blessing to our lives.  Not only do they awaken life in others, paradoxically, they replenish life in our own hearts, in our immediate world.  I have seen this notion proven in the life of a young man whom I met three decades back when he was a student in my youth ministry.

Jon Pritikin is a dynamic individual and one of the greatest communicators I know.  His gifts have taken him all over the world, placing him in settings often incomprehensible for a Christian speaker.  In the last year alone, Jon has spoken to Arab and Jewish Schools in Israel, Palestine and Jordan; been a featured guest on MTV and the highest rated talk shows in Asia; conducted hundreds of assemblies in public schools in North & South America, Asia, Europe, and the Middle East; and ministered to vast audiences #226;#128;#147; some a million plus #226;#128;#147; throughout the Buddhist, Muslim and Hindu regions of our planet.  Not only has he been well received, he's been invited back and given the keys to schools, cities, and nations.  Doors have opened wide for this young man for one reason #226;#128;#147; his kindness.

Jon is one of the kindest individuals I know.  I have seen his life in every setting imaginable and ceaselessly and endlessly, he encourages people, he builds them up, he lifts their spirits.  His acts of kindness are constantly inspiring others and bettering their lives.  Never have I heard him speak an unkind word of another.  His life is a living testament of kindness.  And that kindness has returned to him a hundredfold in the opportunities he has been given.  Kindness opens your life to a world of bounty and blessing, it opens doors leading to wonder and astonishment.

A person's worth is determined not by appearance or income, ethnic background or citizenship status, but rather is bestowed as a sacred inviolable gift of God.  How we respond matters.  Our choice of kindness makes a difference not only to us and our own destiny, but amazingly, to God himself.  God gives us all the opportunity to participate in the restoration of people's lives.  He allows us to help reverse the pain and unfairness of this world.  Like Walter Payton, like Jon Pritikin, like Jesus himself, may we be kindhearted people.  Random kindness makes a loving God visible in an unloving world.

P.S.  For more information on Jon Pritikin, go to Feelthepower.org.  I highly recommend you support his ministry.

Reflections

It has taken me a long time and involvements all over the world to learn what I now know about love and fate and destiny, about God and life and the choices we make as individuals and how those choices influence and impact, yet do not concretely define nor do they necessarily shape us or our future. 

Somehow, through the screaming in my mind over these last four years, in times of a shackled and bloody helplessness; times of being chained and treated like an animal, tossed and locked in some chaotic world of disbelief, I realized I was still free; free to dream and believe, free to hope and pursue. 

It does not sound like much, I know.  But in the grasp and wound of the chain, when it's all you've got, that freedom becomes a universe of possibility.  The choice you make between your past and your future, by selecting freedom despite circumstance, you can rewrite the story of your life and ultimately lead to fresh beginnings filled with the same wonder once lived and experienced.  Except maybe, this time around you will experience a heightened awareness and intensified sensitivity to the important affairs of life, to issues that genuinely matter, leading you to a strengthened contentment and gratifying fulfillment neither temporary nor fleeting.

In my past, inexplicably and for reasons unknown, I often failed to express the feelings in my heart to those I love and care about.  Words that I should have spoken were left unsaid.  Perhaps this is the most important verity of life I have come to realize and comprehend.  By choosing freedom in captivity I have illuminated my past, flashing great light in shadowy domiciles of that past.  The past reflects eternally, between two mirrors, and our lives are lived within those reflections – the bright mirror of words and deeds, and the dark one, full of regret from things we didn't do or say. 

The past, for many, is repressive.  It can bind and muddle, loot and plunder, completely disrupt and impede the future, causing one’s life to be lived in the dark mirror.  Or the repression can breed resistance through the choice of freedom.  The truth is, no matter where you've been or what you've done, no matter how good or bad the experiences, you can change your life with the single act of choosing freedom. 

Choosing freedom empowers the repression of the past to become resistance; resistance from making similar mistakes; resistance from living in a realm defined by any given environment; resistance from responding in kind to unkind acts and words of insult and injury.  Choosing freedom has taught me to resist living a life in which people are taken for granted, where expression, gratitude, and kindness remain in some untapped reservoir of the heart, foolishly believing those articulations will avail themselves somewhere down the road.  Words and deeds left unexpressed are not saved but squandered.  May we not waste those moments we are given to enrich the lives of others whom we love and cherish.  May we live every day in the reflections of the bright mirror.

Christmas

Snow was falling heavily on the mountains of Lebanon three weeks before Christmas.  A dense flurry of wet flakes dotted the air and sheathed the torpid ground.  Beautiful peaks rising graciously above the Mediterranean were blanketed in a fresh white powder.  The chill of winter set in.  And somewhere in the cold, dark white night, a broken and bruised man tarried anxiously in his cell.  Playing solitaire by candlelight, Terry Anderson endured his last hours of captivity.  Soon he hoped to reenter a world from which he was brutally abducted seven years earlier.  A ray of light was about to shine in a very dark corner of the world.

Terry Anderson's last hours of isolation passed with eternal slowness.  Time stood deathly still as the darkness thickened.  Two days earlier, Allan Steen and Joseph Cicippio were freed, leaving Anderson alone as the remaining U.S. hostage in Lebanon.  The release of his colleagues lifted his spirits and raised his hopes of tasting freedom.  But now gloom and misery enveloped him yet again as his captors argued over letting him go.  They felt they needed a bargaining chip to ensure their safety.  And Terry was the only chip left.  So alone he sat in his dungeon of despair, hoping to be as fortunate as his friends, wondering if his nightmare would ever end.  As the angst and tension swelled, he dropped to the floor and disconsolately petitioned God to intervene: "Please allow me to embrace my daughter for the first time and to be in my wife's arms for Christmas."  Somewhere in the heavens, a broken father's cry was heard.  Soon he would hold his little girl who came into the world a few weeks after his violent kidnapping.  And for the first time in her seven years of life, a young daughter would be held, kissed and cuddled by her daddy.  A fractured family was about to receive a miracle.  And it would arrive at the most miraculous time of the year – Christmas.

Slowly, unconfirmed reports began to trickle out of Beirut:  Terry Anderson was released.  The best known and longest held hostage was free.  After 2,455 days of torture, isolation, and separation, he was reportedly traveling east to the Syrian capital of Damascus to be turned over to U.S. Officials.  And on December 3, 1991, I caught a glimpse of him for the first time.  His picture was stunning.  I expected to see a battered, depressed and bitter individual suffering from mental anguish and physical pain.  Instead I saw the opposite.  I viewed a man who had the generosity of spirit to smile.  There was a radiant joy in his countenance when he walked out of captivity into a roomful of colleagues and told them "You can't imagine how glad I am to see you.  I've thought about this moment for a long time, and now it's here, and I'm scared to death.  I don't know what to say."

Even more impressive though is what he did not say.  Here was a man who had been wrapped like a corpse from head to foot in adhesive tape and moved from one hiding place to another in a coffin.  This was a man who lived in airless, windowless cells, blindfolded and chained to walls.  Rarely could he stand upright because these cells were scarcely larger than a grave.  For seven years he survived extreme temperatures, wore the same clothes - mostly underwear and socks - and was trussed by steel chains that were seldom unlocked.  He lived months on end without bathing and when the rare opportunity was granted to wash himself, he was forced to share the same dirty water of other hostages.  Through the years in captivity, he suffered countless beatings and endured days and nights of endless emotional and verbal abuse, often in complete darkness.  Rarely was a light bulb or candle found in his cell.  And yet, there was no hatred, indignation, or bitterness conveyed toward his tormentors.  There was only a great wide smile and a promise of forgiveness for his captors, a countenance glowing with hope and healing.  Terry's demeanor and presence displayed a remarkable message, a message we desperately need to see, one that reveals the true meaning of Christmas.

Christmas, it's the most wonderful time of the year.  A little bit of light is shining all over the world.  Even if you don't believe, there is something about Christmas, something that makes you wish, makes you hope, makes you dream, makes you believe.  Think with me for a moment and ponder what takes place throughout the Christmas season.  The glow of giving lights up the world.  Salvation Army bells ring at shopping centers.  Presents are collected for needy children.  Neighborhoods twinkle in a gleaming array of colors.  Homes are dressed in holiday splendor.  Families reunite as loved ones travel across the miles.  Sweethearts are kissed under the mistletoe.  Laughter seems to ring louder.  Fires appear to burn brighter.  Children are filled with wonder.  Lights are strung.  Trees are trimmed.  Gifts are wrapped.  Cards are sent.  Warm wishes flow.  Snowflakes fall.  Lovers skate.  Youngsters sled.  Stockings hang.  Carolers sing.  Grandmothers bake.  Mothers cook.  Eyes sparkle.  Smiles radiate.  All this activity is taking place for one reason ­– Christ the Lord is beheld.  His name is on our lips.  His spirit is in our hearts.  His story is in our presence.  And suddenly, before our very eyes, the whole world looks different, it smells different, it sounds different, and it is different.  Light is shining in dark places.  Hope is prevailing in a shattered world.  Love is penetrating the hardest hearts.  For a few weeks in December, the entire word is transformed because its eyes are focused on the Light of Bethlehem, its consciousness is aware a Savior was born.

In one sense, all this activity highlights the season, in another it takes away from the miraculous message of Christmas.  It plays the same role the bright star did when it hovered over Bethlehem in the time of Christ's birth.  It adds warmth, color, atmosphere.  It points to something greater, something brighter.  It's a guide to faith and hope, to healing and wholeness, to love and forgiveness.  Yet, often we miss what the bright star of our times is highlighting.  Just like those who were alive during the first Christmas: they were captivated by the bright star and overlooked what it illuminated.  It cast light on the most spectacular event ever: God wrapping Himself in skin appearing as a baby.  While most were preoccupied with the star, the Creator of life was born.  As the crowd of humanity focused on the radiant light, it missed God arriving on the planet.  Unfortunately, the majority in and around Bethlehem missed heaven opening, missed Divinity arriving, missed Holiness breathing.  They missed seeing God in the most spectacular way He could be seen – in awe, in wonder, in innocence.  The God who created matter took shape within the matter He created, and the majority missed the Incarnation by being blinded by the star.  Little has changed in 2000 years, even among His own people.

At this Christmas season, take some time to look beyond the Bethlehem star of our times: the manger scenes, the Christmas plays, the gifts, the holiday activities, the decor.  Think back to the first Christmas and remember there were no decorations and only a few gifts.  Yet in its simplicity and poverty, the astonishing took place and the world would never be the same from that moment forward.  Whatever you may believe about it, the birth of Jesus was so important that it split history in two parts.  Everything that has ever happened on this planet falls into a category of before Christ or after Christ.  When Jesus was born, the planet shuddered.  In Christmas, light infiltrated darkness, invisible and visible worlds came together.  In the cold, in the dark, among the wrinkled hills of Bethlehem, God who knows no before or after entered time and space.  And that act gave God a face, a face seen in Jesus; a face still seen two millenniums later through one man's harrowing imprisonment in Lebanon.

Although I cannot always know or understand why something bad occurs, the first Christmas teaches me how God feels about it.  Christmas gave God a face, and that face shows me God cares.  In Jesus, God demonstrates to us how He feels about the humanity He created.  By watching Jesus respond to a lonely hemorrhaging woman, a helpless leper, a heartbroken father, a despondent widow's dead son, a paralyzed man, an unfaithful wife, a suffering child, I see how God feels about our suffering, our failures, our hurts, and our pain.  I see how much God cares and how God intervenes in our stories and lives.  Christmas demonstrates any miracle is possible and God is able and willing to move on our behalf because He cares.  From God's viewpoint, the first Christmas was far more than the birth of a baby; it was an invasion, the decisive advance in the great struggle for humanity.  It was an invasion of Light revealing love, hope, healing, and forgiveness; an offensive to show mankind that Light overcomes any and all darkness.  Its message insists: No matter how dark life appears from our limited perspective, God maintains control over all things and can birth a miracle anywhere anytime.  And this is the message seen through Terry Anderson's nightmare in Lebanon.

In the years of captivity, Terry said the most dismal day each year was Christmas.  The day that should have been the brightest, the warmest, the loveliest was in retrospect the darkest, the coldest, the ugliest.  Christmas is a time of joy and enchantment, a time for family and celebration.  Terry's Christmases had none of these.  Christmas for him was enemy captors, chains, and loneliness.  And then he encountered the God of the universe, the baby of Bethlehem.  In that moment, something changed in him and that is why he emerged from seven years of terror with a dazzling radiance.  His trial in Lebanon portrayed a rich, resonant embroidery of the Christmas story, a time when the providence of God and foolishness of human wickedness collide.  The barbarians who snatched him from his pregnant wife in the streets of Beirut believed they could influence the western world by using a man from the land of "infidels" as a pawn.  Instead, they made it possible for Light to enter a very dark situation and laid the groundwork for the miraculous.  God specializes in turning the tables, causing what was meant for evil to be used for good.

Terry Anderson came out from seven years of captivity with a smile on his face, a joy in his spirit, and a spring in his walk because one night in very bleak surroundings somewhere in Lebanon, the first Christmas was relived.  Light entered a very dark situation and transformed a beaten and broken man.  That Light became the hope carrying him through the blackest of nights; it became the love he clung to, granting him the belief he would someday meet his daughter and hold his wife again; it became the faith he trusted, knowing God could intervene and perform the miraculous, causing all things to work together for good, ensuring good would triumph over evil.

It's fitting that Terry was released during the Christmas season.  He brought a gift for the whole world to see.  This gift had no wrappings.  Nor were there ribbons and bows.  The gift was a message displaying the true meaning of Christmas.  The message seen in Terry Anderson's seven-year ordeal in Beirut is the same message that appeared on the face of the earth some 2,000 years before in a filthy manger in Bethlehem.  No the message is not giving.  Nor is it love alone.  And it's much more than peace.  It's something a little deeper.  Christmas shows us there is Light in the midst of a dark world, Light in the midst of troubled hearts, Light in the midst of distressed times.  No wonder a choir of angels broke out in spontaneous song, disturbing not only a few shepherds, but the entire universe.  Christmas made it possible to resolve all disharmonies in our lives, sometimes in the most miraculous ways.

A Dying Man's Words to Live By

As Steve Jobs is laid to rest, I would like to share with you some profound thoughts he gave in the Commencement address at Stanford University in 2005.  I encourage you to watch or read the speech in its entirety when you have an opportunity.  You can find it on the web.  In the meantime, contemplate the words below.  They truly are words to live by.

On Love and Loss and Failure

We had just released our final creation - the Macintosh - a year earlier, and I had just turned 30.  And then I got fired.  How can you get fired from a company you started?  I really didn't know what to do for months.  But something slowly began to dawn on me - I still loved what I did.  The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit.  I had been rejected, but I was still in love.  And so I decided to start over.  I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.  During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife.  In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance.

Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick.  Don't lose faith.  I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did.  You've got to find what you love.  And that is true for your work as it is for your lovers.  Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work.  And the only way to do great work is to love what you do.  If you haven't found it yet, keep looking.  Don't settle.  As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it.  And like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on.  So keep looking until you find it.  Don't settle.

On Death and Life

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life.  Because almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important.  Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose.  There is no reason not to follow your heart.

No one wants to die.  Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there.  And yet death is the destination we all share.  No one has ever escaped it.  And that is as it should be, because death is very likely the single best invention of life.  It is life's change agent.  It clears out the old to make way for the new.  Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life.  Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking.  Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice.  And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition.  They somehow know what you truly want to become.  Everything else is secondary.

On the Loss of an Icon and Personal Hero

 Maybe once every century, God seems to bless humanity with a person who changes the world in a way that alters the form and function of our lives, ultimately changing the way we live our lives.  In centuries past, the planet was blessed with names like Da Vinci, Edison, and Ford.  In our lifetime we were blessed with Steve Jobs.

A week ago today, I was on the phone with a dear friend who is a regular visitor at the Jobs' home in Palo Alto.  At some point in our conversation I asked him if he had recently seen Steve Jobs.  Martin grew eerily quiet for a long moment.  Then in a broken voice he said, "He is not going  to make it, he will pass any day."  He went on to describe the atmosphere at the Jobs' home and shared tidbits from a recent conversation he’d had with Steve's wife Laurene.  When I hung up the phone, I found myself deeply saddened.  I walked back to my room in a cloud of depression.  For the second time this year, I was about to lose a hero.

A few months back, David Wilkerson was tragically killed in a head-on collision.  His vehicle was hit by an eighteen-wheeler near his home in East Texas.  The news of his tragic death devastated me.  He was a spiritual mentor to me, and a life hero.  Now six months later, the second of my three heroes in life was about to die.  And it was very difficult for me to fathom, understand, and accept. 

Once I was back in my room, I grabbed my Bible and read various stories of miraculous acts of healing.  It seems I wanted to remind God of what he could do.  If he could raise numerous individuals from the dead, he could certainly heal a very sick man in Palo Alto.  Eventually I dropped to my knees and began to pray.  I fervently pleaded with God to heal Steve Jobs.  He was way to young to die.  I pleaded for mercy and grace, for a miracle to take place.  I asked God to please extend the life of one of my heroes.  My prayer was not answered.  Steve passed away four days later at the age of fifty-six.

There is so much to be said about the life of Steve Jobs.  Instead of recanting all he has accomplished, I would like to tell you why he is one of my heroes.  He made the world smaller.  His ideas and inventions turned a very large planet into a global village.  He was a man of vision, of brilliance, of passion and he was blessed with the ability to figure out what we wanted before we knew we wanted it.  He rebuilt the world to fit his own digital vision.

Steve Jobs was a pioneer, a trailblazer, a man who believed he could make a dent in the universe.  With a messianic intensity, he preached a message that technology was a tool to improve human life and unleash creativity.  He had complete faith in his intuition and embraced personality traits that some considered flaws – narcissism, perfectionism – to lead Apple in a stunning comeback from near bankruptcy, turning it into the world's most valuable company.

Steve’s life and the battles he underwent inspired my life in numerous ways.  From my earliest days of leading others, I embraced his style and example.  Employees and friends would often hear me mention his name in relation to some vision, some hope, some dream I had for my own life, my ministry, or the organizations I led and directed.  He had a profound impact on my life in two distinct ways.

Steve Jobs was a creative genius.  He believed anything could be accomplished.  He lived in a realm seemingly above obstacles, limits, borders and possessed a convention-bucking vision of what something could become.  He was committed to excellence and made sure that the tiniest details were perfect.  His example was my inspiration to launch an organization that conducted nationwide youth conventions designed to be powerful in content, creative in presentation, and life-altering in experience.  In these gatherings, thousands of teens were inspired to sacrifice a few weeks of their lives to serve others in foreign lands on trips we provided.

Everything that went into the development and planning of this organization was driven by a desire to do something no one was doing and to give teenagers an experience unlike any they had previously encountered.  We tried our best to do everything with a spirit of excellence and this extended to all facets of advertising, production, communication, publication, and presentation.

When I initially started the company, I was met with opposition.  We were affiliated with a worldwide Christian denomination that was somewhat rigid and conservative.  For the most part, the large organization was entrenched in a traditional style of communication.  Many thought my style and vision was too "secular" and way over the top.  However, I would not let the naysayers hinder me.  I did not allow their opinions to compromise my vision, belief, and creativity.  Back then it was difficult to wade into old industry with a new idea.  But I would not give up and the results of chasing a dream were astonishing.  Because I was blessed with an amazing staff of individuals who were extremely gifted, talented, and supportive of my ideas, the lives of tens of thousands of young people were greatly impacted and inspired.  Thousands traveled to nations on every continent to aid and assist others. This was a direct result of Steve Jobs and the enormous impact he had on my life.  His example taught me to never give up, to do everything with excellence, and to pursue my passion and dreams.  His life also taught me one of the most important lessons I have ever learned: Do not waste the years spent in exile.

In 1985, Steve Jobs was fired from Apple.  In a boardroom coup, the company he founded ousted him, deposing the tech king from the palace he had built.  "What had been the focus of my entire life was gone and it was devastating.  I was a very public failure," Jobs said in a speech given at Stanford University.  This was one of three serious reversals in his life that illustrated rejection, exclusion, and extinction.  It sent him into exile, into the wilderness.  And he did not let those years go to waste.  Instead of resting on his laurels and fading into oblivion, he allowed the time of being away to strengthen him and shape him into the lateral thinker and innovator he became.

In the twelve years he spent in exile, Steve Jobs reinvented himself.  Scrupulous examination of faults, failures, and personal shortcomings enabled him to make adjustments.  The heaviness of going from America's wunderkind to a perceived failure was replaced by a lightness of beginning again, of starting over, of transforming himself.  The years of living in the wilderness – where people abandon you, where they write you off, where they believe every negative story – were not wasted.  They prepared him for a comeback, and what a comeback it was.  In 1997, he returned from exile to retake the helm of his beloved Apple – teetering on the edge of extinction – and saved it from collapse.  For the next fourteen years he forged his singular vision through a combination of inspiration and gut instinct.  He upended entire industries. Personal computing.  The music business.  Publishing.  Hollywood.  Cell phones.  All have been radically transformed by Steve Jobs.

Living in exile, in the wilderness, is very difficult.  It's a barren and empty and lonely existence, a stark contrast to the days you stood on top of the world, basking in success, surrounded by friends and admirers.  When failure casts you into the outer limits, a majority of those who once stood with you no longer stand.  Individuals you helped are nowhere to be found.  People you opened doors for now slam those same doors and shut you out.  Often you are abandoned to your own wanderings with little support.

Steve Jobs' years in exile have inspired me to not waste my years in such surroundings.  I have learned to use this time in the wilderness to reinvent myself, to rediscover my passion, my calling, my purpose.  In the incurious world of today, one focused mainly on comfort and ease, his example pushes me down the harsh path of self-examination to ask painful questions of myself: How did I allow my life to get into this situation?  What was my role in the failure of my marriage?  How can I be a better man, a better father, a better husband, a better friend?  The years in exile are shaping me.

Self-examination is the most difficult path to travel.  But introspection is the one path we must travail during our time in the wilderness.  It was this path that transformed Steve Jobs into the remarkable individual he became, a man who changed the world for all of us.  

Rest in peace Steve Jobs.  I and the rest of humanity will sorely miss you.  Thank you for sharing your brilliance with all of our lives.  You changed how the world works and how the world imagines itself.  You have shown us how to use our gifts to make the world a better and brighter place.  May we follow the shining path you left and illuminate the world around us.