“Can I have a do-over?” People usually ask that question because they’ve made a mistake of some sort, but sometimes God gives us do-overs because we did everything right!

There I stood in beautiful downtown Brenda AZ in the Rec Hall of the Black Rock RV Park. In front of me were two wonderful people. Rick, a preacher friend that I finally got to see in the flesh after 16 years of Internet tag and Carol, his soon to be wife. They were standing in front of me because I was about to marry them. Rick looked uncomfortable in his “monkey suit” as he called it, but even his crusty cowboy ways couldn’t hide his obvious joy. Carol looked radiant, which is a bit surprising since she had spent the better part of the week running around like a one-armed wallpaper hanger, taking care of all the necessary details to make the wedding happen.

A few minutes earlier, just as the ceremony was about to begin, Rick leaned over to me and said: “Now Grant, make sure there is some laughter in this wedding because the Christian Life is about joy and celebration.” I took that comment to be a first-class challenge, but I really didn’t have to work too hard at bringing any laughter because of Rick’s homemade processional CD.

Carol loves 50’s music, so the processional began with “Earth Angel,” which led into a recording of Rick introducing his bride as only Rick can. Next was the tympani to 20th Century Fox which lead to the bride’s marching orders: “Going to the Chapel”.

The only problem was that it was all recorded as one track so when the sound guy, half way through “Earth Angel,” accidentally started the song over again, there was nothing he could do but speed up the track. That made the remainder of “Earth Angel” sound like it was recorded by Alvin and the Chipmunks. Laughter naturally ensued.

(more…)

Monday was my birthday, Naturally I woke up with all kinds of expectation and hope. After all, birthdays, by their very nature, are supposed to be full of special surprises, right?

I purposely waited to come downstairs. I didn’t want the boys to make a fuss (like they would anyway, but I can always hope…). I wanted to savor my day and not have all the excitement slip away before I had my coffee. As a matter of fact, Sheila gave me her gift but I refused it, preferring to open it after supper. I wanted the timing and atmosphere to be just right. I wanted the day to be done. I wanted to be all warm and cozy-like and surrounded by the famfam.

Still, refusing my gift was difficult, especially without any caffeine coursing through my veins. Such self-control is rarely seen anywhere in the world, let alone in our living-room, but there you have it, this birthday, this forty-seventh birthday, was nothing to leave to chance or impulse. After all, I only have so many good birthdays, left, so I was a rock, a quivering rock, because I was vibrating with anticipation, but a rock nonetheless.

Then it began: a report on Breakfast Television said that British experts of some description had crunched the stats and found that January 22 is the most depressing day of the year. It seems that the mid-winter blahs mix with the January post-Christmas Visa bills and a strong depression starts to form clouds over everyone’s heads.

I tried hard not to take the news personally. After all, no one had suggested that my existence was somehow responsible for making January 22nd the most depressing day of the year. More to the point, everyone knows that experts are regularly mistaken and stats can be used to prove or disprove pretty much anything, so I remained unconvinced. Still the exuberant expectation of my special day was slightly tarnished, if only for a moment. The fact that I heard the same news several more times on the radio didn’t help. Yet another reason to turn the news off, if I really needed another reason, which I didn’t!

Off I went to work. The Monday blahs met me at the door, but I pushed them aside and proceeded to get the essentials done because Sheila, my lovely bride was taking me out for lunch. We had a wonderful lunch and the rest of my day went well, even though one of my boys was continually asking me if I knew what the date was! He obviously gets his cruel humor from his mother!

After I had my cake and presents and an enjoyable evening all around, I reflected on the fact that my birthday just happens to fall on the most depressing day of the year and I began to take pleasure in the fact that my birthday just became notoriously negative. After all, doesn’t such news make the day just that much more special?

I feel sorry for those who are born on March 21st, the first day of spring. How can you compete with that? Or July 1st or 4th, I mean, people are going to celebrate on those days anyway, so what if they celebrate your birthday too. Big deal! Just throw a couple more dogs on the BBQ—you call that a birthday celebration? Then there are those poor souls who have Christmas as their birthday. Who is ever going to see that as a plus? At Christmas we celebrate the birth of Jesus, the Son of God. We celebrate the single greatest event in the history of the world. Any other birthday is anti-climatic, no matter how much we try to convince ourselves otherwise (no offense to Christmas babies, you have my deepest sympathies).

The way I see it, the fact that I was born on the most depressing day of the year is a blessing. If ever there was a day we needed a reason to celebrate something, January 22nd is that day and it also just happens to be my birthday! So, I have a reason to take the worst day of the year and turn it upside down and make it a celebration. The rest of the world has to suffer through it in all its cold, harsh reality. I can escape its sting and not feel guilty about making it a “me” day.

Of course, all this seems so very familiar to me because, as a Christian, I am used to having God take the bad and turn it into something positive. He’s done it time and time again in my life and I’ve seen Him do it in so many other lives as well. Our God excels at turning the negative into something positive. Don’t believe me? Just look at the cross. That day was the darkest day to ever come our way, but God transformed it into something that brings pure, eternal hope to all who believe. Good Friday gave way to Easter Sunday, now that’s the ultimate bad made good, but such an act wasn’t a one time thing. It is very much part of God’s nature to continually redeem our failures and fears and make them worthy of sticking on His cosmic fridge. He is just that kind of a God of surprises.

If you’ve been reading “Cold Feet” for any length of time, you may have read the article entitled “Crocs & Christ” about Steve Irwin. I was a big fan! His death was such a shock last week! My heart goes out to his friends and family in the time of their loss.

I’ll miss his enthusiasm. You just don’t see that kind of energy expended by most people. Steve was like a chihuahua with a caffeine addiction! Steve was excited to do what he did. He didn’t have a job, he had a lifestyle that oozed from his convictions and passion. He was an amazing ambassador of wildlife and conservation. One report I saw indicated that he spent a considerable part of his income buying tracts of land to preserve habitats, not just in his native Australia, but also in other endangered areas of the world. I’m not surprised!

Neither was I surprised to see that Steve died the way he did. After all, he spent a lot of time with dangerous, unpredictable animals. He must have had several close calls over the years. Still, as I watched and read the reports of his death last week, one word continued to reverberate in my mental membrane. The word was ironic. In a way, Steve’s death was ironic. I mean, how many dangerous situations has Steve been in? How many dangerous animals had opportunity to do serious damage throughout the years and yet a rather docile, mostly-well behaved animal was the one to end his life.

While I am sad that we lose such a great personality and ambassador, I have a hard time being sad for Steve–can you possibly imagine any more fitting way for him to have died? At the same time, I come back to the word “ironic”. Steve’s death as a result of a Stingray attack is the first such death in Australia in sixty years! These creatures are known to be friendly and good natured. If you looked in their year book, the comment beside their picture would be, “swims well with others, a treat to be around!” And yet, such was not the case for Steve. Everyone has clearly stated that Steve was not provoking this animal. Diver after diver has stated they have been in very similar situations and felt safe. There may be a few theories or suggestions that come out of this event in the days ahead, but the bottom line seems to be that it was a fluke. It just happened. In fact, Steve wasn’t actually supposed to be in the water that day because of the weather. Filming had been canceled earlier in the day but he went out anyway. I prefer to think that it was merely Steve Irwin’s time. Why? I don’t know–God does!

Here are a few thoughts that came to mind:

1. No one knows how long they have. You can be a thrill seeker or the king of caution, it doesn’t matter. When it’s your time, it’s your time. Of course many people take stupid risks with their lives that lead to their early demise, but, regardless, our time is unknown. That’s why it is so important to REALLY LIVE! Steve dying at the age of forty-four isn’t half as sad as many who die at eighty, without having ever done anything with their lives. As a Christian this is particularly important to me. I don’t know how long I have. I have the greatest message of love ever given. I hold in my hand something that has eternal consequences. Am I out there swimming, even when the weather is bad? Am I spending my time focused on what matters? Am I doing everything I can to preserve souls? Is my faith in Christ as infectious as Steve’s love of animals?

2. Steve died in a situation that he had every reason to think was safe. Perhaps that was part of the problem. When you are dancing with the crocs, you watch your step. When you are facing an obviously dangerous situation, you prepare yourself. You look at the scenarios. You plan. I doubt very much that Steve was foolhardy. I don’t think he went beyond what he thought was safe. According to what others have said, what he did was safe, but… I think Steve was an expert at estimating his risk. He had to be, but the lesson for me is that sometimes it is the thing we consider safe that get us in the end. It is easy to discount spiritual danger. It is easy to, in the excitement of the moment, ignore the possible consequences. A lot of people have been stung in the heart as a result. Sometimes what we consider to be safe is most dangerous of all. To put it another way, with the wrong attitude, nothing is safe!

For my part, I wouldn’t mind leaving this world the same way Steve did. I’d love to die in the middle of doing something bold for the passion of my life, which is Christ. What’s your passion? How much time are you really spending in pursuing it?