Alvin Bamburg got up early one morning in late December of last year to go deer hunting on a piece of land near Shreveport, Louisiana. On his outing, he noticed a ballon stuck in a tree and, because he felt like God was speaking to him, climbed up to get what would otherwise have been garbage to him.
There was a note attached to the balloon, a Christmas list penned by two four year olds, 600 miles away. In Kansas.
It had been a tough year for the girls, and mom, Leticia Flores, wanted to make Christmas as special as she could. So, they grabbed some card stock and penned their deepest wishes — candy, dolls, some My Little Pony stuff, and a puppy — and sent them into the stratosphere. It was truly a special moment for the girls, but mom knew the ballons wouldn’t make it far. And because their note was for Santa’s eyes only, the kids didn’t include their address.
Bamburg and his wife posted pictures of the cards on social media and asked their friends to share as far as they could. Somehow, word made it back to Leticia, who connected with the Bamburgs, who sent a very special care package full of everything the girls had wished for, except for the puppy. That was delivered in person as the Bamburg’s made a very long drive to meet the girls, complete the deal, and become forever friends.
Here’s another story:
A Jeweler from New York arrived home one evening after a long day of work, but couldn’t find his two jewelry portfolios —36 rings totalling $100,000 — that he thought had come home with him. “I started searching the house, I thought I brought it home. I started retracing my steps and remembered I left it on the train,” he told a local news station.
In horror, he picked up the phone to call the Long Island Railway help line, but knew that his merchandise was gone. Nobody in their right mind would hand over a bag full of diamonds.
But that’s exactly what happened. The conductor for that evening, Jonathan Yellowday, found the bag, looked inside, maybe thought, as I would have, about buying a sweet new ride, then turned the merchandise over to the proper authorities. The owner was quickly reunited with his property, and I’m reminded that things are not as bad as my news diet seems to suggest.
One of the most interesting facets of American culture is our love for bad news. Nowadays there’s a market for it, and we’re drawn to it like flies to honey. But it’s not the news or social media outlets that are at fault here, the problem is us. We’re the consumers. We create the demand. We love dirty laundry, shocking stories, the failures of others. As it turns out, there are folks who’d like to make a little $$ off of this and are more than happy to oblige our cravings. And so, thanx to us, our news feeds and social media platforms are full of stories that leave us feeling like the entire universe is rotten.
There are plenty of good stories, like the ones above, but the market for them is not nearly as hot, so they get missed, lost in the shuffle, along with hope. And, as king Solomon once wrote, “without hope, our hearts become sick.”
I know that many of my readers aren’t religious, and certainly not interested in the spiritual ramblings of a somewhat evangelical, cajun, middle-aged at-home-parent. But, if you’ll allow, I’d like to share just a bit about the effect that Jesus has had on my sense of hope.
I’m also hoping that you’ll make room for some cheeze this morning.
Years ago, in seminary, I sat in chapel and listened to the news that one of my fellow students and his wife had just suffered a miscarriage. I didn’t know him, and as a young, single guy I had little understanding of what he and his wife were going through. But for some reason I was heartbroken, and went straight back to my tiny apartment to write a song.
I know, cheezy. But everything that I was feeling about faith, loss, and hope came out in that short moment. I’ll share the song below, but can’t vouch for the quality of verse. What follows is the best way I can articulate what it’s been like to have an unconditional, unearned, limited-only-by-me relationship with a deity who seems to want me to be a version of myself that, apart from hope, is utterly impossible. Also, it’s never really been edited. It came out rough, and I’ve left it that way.
I don’t know what I want to say
It may be best to leave the words alone
But you live inside my heart, you walk about, you poke around
And I don’t hear a sound
Then you shake them from my head and lay them deep inside my heart
Your words of life and truth go coursing through my veins, into my soul
Now I’m a man I never should have been
And though my eyes are open wide
I only see enough to know I need you more
I’m alive
My fear will not prevail against a lion
My bullshit catches fire in the presence of this king
My hardened heart will not survive
Within the clutches of a lamb
My death has breathed its last
It hung there lifelessly upon a cross
Amazing love
How can it be?
That thou, my god, should die for me?
I’m alive
Photo Credit: Ahmed Zid at Unsplash
