Relentless

To give you a little bit of context for what it was like growing up with my two older brothers, let me share with you a trip that we made to Florida when I was just shy of four years old. Our Mom took it upon herself to haul six kids to Hollywood, Florida, for a week of vacation. I’m sure she had a blast that week! If I was about four years old, then this would have been in 1965. The particular incident I am leading toward, which provides some context, is what happened one day on the beach. It was pretty crowded, but we never had “helicopter parents,” so we all pretty much ran around like a pack of monkeys. I was busy trying to catch seagulls. I would crouch down, sneak toward a small flock until they got nervous, and then run as fast as I could in a vain attempt to catch one as they flew off. I did this over and over again, in a tenacious effort to catch my prey. After some time, after apparently observing me in my futile efforts, and after a little strategizing, my older brothers, David and Mike, showed up. If I was four years old, they would have been seven and eight years old. As I stood in the sand, huffing and puffing after another fruitless chase, they walked up, and one of them asked, “What are you doing, Stupid?” I replied, “What’s it look like? I’m catching seagulls.” They replied, “You idiot. You’re not doing it right at all! Don’t you know how to catch a seagull?!” I stood silent. I had grown skeptical of these two in my four years of life. I had my reservations, but I desperately wanted to catch a seagull, so I heard them out. They said, “You don’t know anything! Here is how you do it, you little moron.” With that, they officially educated their little brother in the fine art of seagull hunting. They demonstrated the well-known stalking technique of how to catch a seagull on the beaches of Hollywood, Florida. First, you get down on your hands and knees. Then you put your right thumb under your right armpit to make a wing, which you flap. You then lift your left leg up into the air as best you can. You then cock your head to the right, but with your head lifted somewhat so that you can still see your prey. Finally, you begin to squawk as loudly as you can, doing your best to imitate the call of a seagull. Then slowly, but methodically, you make your way down the beach, all the while employing this classic stalking technique. (If you want to try it, you will find that you essentially end up hopping with one hand and one knee on the ground.) After a few minutes of coaching and fine-tuning, I was ready for my first hunt as a newly enlightened and equipped predator. I assumed the position and made my way toward a small flock of seagulls. As fate would have it, maybe because they were paralyzed with curiosity as I approached, I actually got closer to them than I had in all my previous vain attempts. Indeed, I got close enough to be so sold on the technique that I jumped to my feet and yelled, “It works! It works!” With renewed vigor, and with great appreciation to my mentor brothers, I continued the hunt, completely unaware of my surroundings. But what was happening was that the whole crowd on the beach was now pointing and watching what must be a little boy who was mentally challenged, as I repeatedly made my way down the beach in the assumed position, squawking as loudly as I could as I made my way. Again, I was oblivious to the crowd, until all of a sudden, my dear but embarrassed Mom grabbed me by the upper arm and pulled me to my feet and demanded an explanation for why I was acting the fool. When I explained that I was employing the well-known technique for catching seagulls that had been taught to me by my kind and loving older brothers, she let go of me and went on the warpath down the beach to ring their necks! That tells you just a bit of what life was like from an early age for me and my two brothers. But there was so much more to come! There would be plenty of games, indoors and outdoors, knocking holes in the sheetrock, pulling pranks on each other and our sisters, hunting and fishing, all of us racing motorcycles, and just tons of life events that we talk about and laugh about to this day. As often happens, we went our separate ways during college, but there were always the holidays and times together back at our parents’ house. There was more fun to be had. There was an Alaskan fishing trip with our Dad. There was the Europe motorcycle trip (on BMWs). Even now we regularly get together, although we live hours apart, to catch up, share and retell stories, and laugh our heads off! But along the way, in our individual lives, there were so many unbelievable life events yet to happen, many that can only be explained as being orchestrated by a sovereign God who, for some reason, decided to come after the three of us in a relentless pursuit of our hearts, minds, and affections. And there was so much more to come in the genuine love and affection and mutual understanding that the three of us have come to share as we have walked our individual, yet mysteriously parallel, paths. I hope you will hang with me and let me share this story, which is not so much about us, as it is about how the God of Heaven will do what He needs to do to get us to where we truly want to be.