I have often marveled at the power of the sun and of the absolute necessity of it for life.  The light of the sun is irreplaceable for every living thing to have become so or to remain so.  Fresh lessons of this are revealed to me fairly often.

In the woods behind my house we have mammoth oak trees that must be hundreds of years old, as slow as oaks grow.  Growing there too are skyscraping maples that have canopy's so broad that you could park buses under them which would remain shaded regardless of the time of day or angle of the suns rays striking the earth.  Sunlight kept from the soil by these massive living things has the effect of limiting what can grow beneath them.  If you need warmed soil and abundant light to grow, you can't grow there under giant oaks and maples. 

Fourteen months ago, half of one of the giants split off and fell.  Like underneath the canopy's of those mammoth's that still stand intact, and like the canopy formed by the half of this fractured giant that still stands, little grows under its branches, so dense is the foliage.  Oddly, almost all that grows in the sparse fractions of light are spindly, weak, pale, plants characterized by their thorns.  But now under the half that fell, an explosion of robust plant life has occurred.  A sort of verdant new forest has exploded.  Seeds that had lain dead for hundreds of years, dropped from plants growing there generations ago, or carried in by long since composted birds and mammals, suddenly, strangely warmed in the earth by the newfound abundant sunlight, stirred.  They found themselves growing.  Flourishing.  It was  exciting for me to stumble upon this discovery.  I had climbed in that tree when almost nothing grew beneath it.  But recently as I stood on the massive hulk of the fallen half, I marveled at the jungle beneath me.  It was so dense that I could barely walk through it.  Half of this maple dying enabled thousands of plants to live for the first time, simply because they gained the sun.

My belief system--my "religion"-- has a corollary truth for what I've described here.  My life displays this truth.  The hope...the new life that I personally received by embracing the life, death, and resurrection of God's only Son...by His Spirit, and undeserved by me, enabled me to grow out of the domain of darkness and thorns.  This is true; it happened to me and has been observed by many who have watched my life for the last 16 years.  There was little that even the most charitable soul, if they were honest, would have characterized about my life before gaining the light of God's Spirit, as healthy, growing, or redemptive.  I was turned inward upon myself; it was all about me.  (Though I would not likely have admitted this overarching self interest to anyone, the products of my life, my orientations, and a list of my expenditures would have affirmed it.)  There were thorns pushing up from the cool-to-cold soil of my heart and lots of them.  Nothing of lasting value came from my life...my life was either a snare to some who passed by me on their way to the light, or an oasis for those who passed by me to some other corner of darkness.  Oh, the other thorny creatures thought I was grand, but in darkness, we often take comfort in knowing that there are others like us, and we tell each other we're all right and alright.  We prickly characters all believe we are fine where we are, as we express grand manifesto's testifying to the greatness of our darkened state (though we think we are enlightened therein).  It reminds me of the crab bucket phenomena.

They say that at some coastal areas at certain times and tides you can pick up crabs as you walk the beach.  If you have just one crab in your bucket, he is adept at extending a claw to the buckets rim and hoisting himself up and out.  The key is to gain a second crab.  When the first tries to hoist himself to freedom the second grabs him and pulls him back down, dooming them both to a boiling pot. Crabs gladly keep crabs company all the way to the end.    And thorns are great company for other thorns. 

People in darkness often flatter those who seek light, in order to keep light-seekers in the darknness with them.  Allow me to enourage you that whether a sun-blotting canopy is arrayed across your patch of earth, whether a spiny claw keeps you down in the bucket, or whether a flatterer tells you it's alright, that you ought to stay there with him where it's cool, out of the brightness, remember that nothing lives without sunlight.  And all who die without the Son of God, without Jesus, their death will linger for eternity.  Lingering death includes separation from God forever..  But whoever believes in Jesus, though he dies, he will live again, and that life will be warmed by the love and presence of God forever.  The life in the light will flourish.

I'm not "all that".  I still prick people once in a while, I'm sure.  But I'm in the light and growing.  I know Who it is that I live for; I intend that it not be for myself.  I desire to be a tool in the hand of God and I desire that my life should give Him glory as I seek to do His will on the earth, loving people and behaving redemptively, turned outward...others-focused.

I've been a thorn among the thorns, I've been in the company of crabs, both as the first and as the second in the bucket, and I've been in the sun.  I can attest to which is better for life.

I gathered my belongings and left my "bed", casting a backwards glance at it; not a fond glance.  It was a cold one (why can't folks get control of air-conditioners?  I'm rarely, if ever, cold inside in winter, but am frequently cold inside in summer). 

It was an extremely noisy bedroom; loud, really.  Floor scrubbers whirred in the night, people engaged in random conversations at exaggerated volumes, paper and plastic rustled, things went "bump" and "thud" and "clickety-click, clickety-click".  A loud woman kept repeating, "Uh, uh, uhhh..  I jes' swept this flo' and look at it!.  Uh, uh, uh!" And the bed was really just a series connected vinyl-covered chairs, which left me to straddle arms in order to get horizontal.  I placed a piece of paper over my eyes in an attempt to dim the intensely bright light.  Then I realized the paper helped me to stay warm, and even though the light was far too bright to be blocked,  I got a bigger sheet and put it over my most of my head.  I felt like a street person for a moment.  Who cares about stylin' when you're freezin', trying to sleep in an airport?  Not me. 

After tossing and turning for a few hours, I now look fairly haggard, and feel even moreso.  Cinnabon and Starbuck's should open at 6:00...in about an hour.

Shift.  If you ever have influence over children in any role, including as a teacher, parent, or grandparent, never say, "Now tell 'so and so' you're sorry."  It's great if you can help them to actually be sorry and to want to apologize, but no value accrues to either party in a forced apology.  They come to understand that it's okay to ask for forgiveness yet to not really mean it.  Not good.

Shift.  I never want to be a man who doesn't touch my wife.  I never want to be a man who seems to ignore her.  In this airport, since "getting up" an hour ago after more and more people invaded my "bedroom", I've watched lots of men and women.  Some men are too cool to acknowledge their wives.  Some are too dignified to interact when their wives or girlfriends are playful or talkative.  But I loved watching the guys who walked holding their wives hands, or walked tenderly alongside with a hand in the small of her back, or had an arm wrapped around her, actually looking at her and smiling once in a while.  What, are we too cool?  Too focused elsewhere?

I love watching people.  I love watching men, and wondering who they are and which of their shortcomings they are thinking about.  I love watching women as I wonder how they're being treated.  I love watching children, and watching parents or grandparents and children interact.  I watched a middle age couple and a teen boy greet an older teen or early twenties boy, who I'm sure was just returning from college or some similar adventure.  The love and joy on all the faces made my heart prrrr.  I approached them to share my appreciation of all the love on display...talked to the mom...told her how it made my day.  Then I watched a different mom and two boys, about 4 and 6, walk down a long corridor by baggage claim, holding pictures they had colored for some lucky person arriving home.  This should be good!

It was dad who appeared at the opposite end of the corridor.  I stopped to enjoy the greeting.  The older of the two boys broke away from mom and brother, running ahead to greet dad, sprinting towards him.  I anxiously awaited seeing dad love on the precious child.  Oh good grief.  He more or less just shook his hand and rubbed him on the head, not even an enthusiastic, "Hi, buddy!", or a "Hello, son!  I'm so happy to see you!"  Didn't even grab the boy to launch him into the air.  Knucklehead.  You blew that one. Even if you did not receive such acknowledgement at his age, you should be able to perceive that your son needs love, and needs to see you match his excitement in seeing him.  Just try genuinely, openly, loving your kids and see what happens.

Shift.  Time to board.  I know there will be blankets there.