Jesus Is My Energy Drink

It’s hard to turn on the television or radio, or walk through the grocery store without being bombarded by commercials for the newest energy drink to get you through another miserable day at work. And if they aren’t convincing you to drink pure sugar and caffeine, they are likely telling you to change your whole diet to natural meats and organic vegetables for a more vibrant lifestyle. And if you have any grocery money left, to make sure every cell in your body is in top shape, you should probably purchase the 12 different vitamins on the shelf so you can have more energy than Richard Simmons sweatin’ it out to the Oldies. But what happens when all of that just doesn’t cut it? What happens when you still can’t keep up?

We all know what it’s like to be moving from one place to another just to keep up with everyone else around us. Between homework, homecoming, and all other social and sporting events, it seems that youth today are only home to grab a quick nights rest and a pop tart in the morning. As for the parents, if they are putting in over-time to “the man”, they are struggling to support their children in all of their events. And grandparents… you don’t have it easy anymore either. Retirement for you just means that there are no excuses for you to not join the ladies tea club or maintain the leaking faucet at your children’s house. Anyway you look at it, we’re all busy and we’re all desperate for a way to keep chugging along.

John 4:31-34 says, “Meanwhile the disciples were urging Him, saying, ‘Rabbi, eat’ But He said to them, ‘I have food to eat that you do not know about.’ So the disciples were saying to one another, ‘No one brought Him anything to eat, did he?’ Jesus said to them, ‘My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to accomplish His work.’” Now, if you are not too familiar with this story, don’t feel too bad. This story often falls between the cracks between the story of the Samaritan woman at the well and that passage that speaks of the fields being ready for harvest.

If you think anything like me (and I’m sorry if that is the case), you probably have tended to dwell on Jesus’ interaction with the Samaritan woman or the fact that the harvest is ready and Jesus is saying to get to work. This is not a bad thing to do. However, over the past few weeks and months, I have been pondering this thought concerning Jesus’ food. Perhaps I am dense and I should have realized this years ago, but nonetheless, here I am sharing what I am just realizing now; and that is, Jesus is my energy drink.

Over the past few years, I have come to realize that I am a busy guy. I do not say this to brag in any means, rather, I am just stating what so many people tell me when they hear what is going on in my life. “Wow, Eric, how do you do it?” “Don’t you ever get tired running around for school, church, and family?” And my favorite, “Where do you get the energy and time to do it all, I can’t do that!” These are a few quotes I run into. Now I’ll be the first to admit that my schedule does not compare to many people out there who may read this. I have friends in seminary who do what I do AND have children (and they are clinically deemed insane). My reason for writing this, in part, is to explain where that energy comes from to do all the “things” that I do.

This whole thought hit me during a serious conversation when a person very close to me said, “I don’t know where you are getting your energy, but I’m tired!” That’s when I realized that I did have more energy to do the things I do than most people. Immediately my mind shifted into my chemistry gear and I was thinking to myself, “Do you have “issues” with your adrenal gland, Eric, that you need to get checked out?” That’s when I had a “clicking moment” (you know, those times when something that you’ve heard over and over finally just clicks). We have to remember that Jesus was physically exhausted from His ministry and journey before speaking to the woman at the well. With that being the case, when the disciples came back from town with bread and whatever other food they may have picked up, they asked him to eat up and get his energy back. They were shocked when Jesus said, “I don’t need your food to sustain me. My energy comes from a different source.” I can’t blame the disciples for looking at each other and trying to figure out who else brought Him food. I would have done the same thing. But in doing so, they missed the point. Jesus’ strength to finish the work that He had been sent to do came from the one who sent Him. OK, so Jesus got His strength from the Father. What does that even mean? We try to tap into that and pray for a miraculous boost of adrenaline at times, but are often disappointed when we don’t have the energy to do that “one more thing.” I propose to you, that is because we are drinking the wrong energy drink.

You see, Jesus’ passion and desire was to do that, which the Father had sent Him to do. When he was doing the will of His Father, He found the strength to keep plugging along. The same goes for us. What are you passionate about? If you will, for this next point, please join me at my dining room table for two meals. For the first meal, you will have pot roast with potatoes and I’ll be the chef. Let me remind you that I eat to live, and not the other way around, so you’ll be getting food that is edible… but not much more than that. Now get ready for the second meal, because you’ll be having pot roast and potatoes again. Before you get up and make an excuse to get out of another bland meal, let me tell you that my wonderful wife, Cheryl, will be cooking this time. Now, Cheryl, she lives to eat! You can be assured that the roast will be the perfect texture and you can pull the meat apart with your spoon. The seasoning will be just right and the smell, delightful. The same for the potatoes. Each one is peeled and mashed to perfection. There would be no mistake, Cheryl’s meal would be amazing and mine, well… let’s just say you would only come over in the future if you knew Cheryl was cooking. Now join me in our back yard for the tour of the garden. I hope you would be pleased with the well groomed weedless lawn and perky flowers and thick  mulch. But in the corner of your eyes, you might see a pot with weeping foliage or a hanging basket with a plant hanging, only because it’s dead (you see, those are the plants my wife is suppose to care for).

Don’t get me wrong, Cheryl likes our gardens, but she does not enjoy working in them, hence, the dying plants in pots. There is a point to my madness. It should be no surprise that Cheryl’s cooking is better than mine, and my gardening is better than Cheryl’s. Why? Because Cheryl is passionate about cooking and I’m passionate about gardening! When Cheryl cooks, she doesn’t get distracted by the time involved because she enjoys it. She does not stress about adding the right amount of seasoning, because by now, she just knows what to add. And in the end, she always serves a delicious meal with a smile. The same for me gardening. I do a good job because I’m passionate about it.

Here’s the kicker, I don’t think many believers have energy to do the work the Father sent them to do because they are not passionate about doing the work that the Father sent them to do. It’s like me cooking. I’ll do it because I have to, but it’s always draining and I don’t feel fulfilled in the end (probably because half of what I made isn’t edible). However, if I can garden and do that which I’m passionate about, I can work for hours without knowing how much time has passed. Those who enjoy programing could probably spend a day at the computer creating their masterpiece before realizing they didn’t eat breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Let’s be real, a passionate gamer could play games on their console for hours without evening knowing the sun set… twice! You get the point, we find energy to do the things we are passionate about… can you humor me and read that one more time. We find energy to do the things we are passionate about (and this is where I would normally have an awkward pause for reflection).

There were times when Jesus was physically TIRED, but He was so passionate about doing that which pleased His Father that when He did what He was sent to do, He found a spiritual nourishment that was far superior to any physical exhaustion He was experiencing. So I ask you a humbling question that I often struggle with? What is your passion and what does it mean when doing the will of Him who sent you is more exhausting than spiritually nourishing? My hope is that this will cause most to think, question, and even wrestle with the topic at hand. Please feel free to post below and perhaps that will give me something more to write about.

A Habachi Bear Tradition

For this next post, I would suggest you sit yourself by your Christmas tree (if you have a laptop), grab a cup of coffee or hot chocolate and play some Christmas music in the background (however, I would advise you don’t listen to any songs including Santa or reindeer). This next story is about a Malone tradition that started about 25 years ago.

To begin, I would like to quote from a story that my mom wrote when she was working on her Masters degree. This is from a paper called, “When Dad told the Before Bed Story. It goes…

“…It was only at night during the Christmas season, when the tree was decorated, that Dad would tell the story of the Habachi Bears.  He never needed a book to help him tell a new adventure.  All the words were in his head.  His voice was quieter than usual as he sat on the carpet, with his shoulders slumped so that he was closer to his sons’ size.

Before the Dad started, each son got to take a hand full of red and green M&Ms, but would only eat them one at a time.  Each adventure started at the base of Crane Mountain in the Adirondacks, after the leaves fell to the ground.  This was the Dad’s favorite place to hike.  One time he found a small cave with leaves scattered all over the floor.  Somewhere in the cave was an opening just big enough for the Dad to squeeze through one shoulder at a time.  When he got through the opening he found he was in one large room.  The floor was completely covered with colorful autumn leaves of red, orange, brown, and yellow.  It was not just any underground room because just beyond that he could see another room filled with the hustle and bustle of small white bears.  These bears were about the height of the kitchen table and walked upright on two feet.   They had soft, fluffy, pure white fur, not coarse like bear fur, more like rabbit fur.  The Dad said he did not have to be afraid of these bears because they were very gentle and not the growling kind.  He could tell because their eyes were tender and sparkly…”

Now, every Christmas, we fill our breakable glass jar with the red and green candies that are delicately hand crafted by the tiny Habachi bears and I sit by the Christmas tree reminiscing about the stories told. I can picture sitting in my brother’s room, listening to my dad give very specific details about the bears and their dwelling place. Then my mind jumps forward to laying down by the  tree, surrounded by the many Habachi bears that my dad had been given each Christmas over the years. I would put my head on their soft fur and imagine what their workshop looked like. My mind then flashes back to the first gift we received from the Habachi bears; a tractor wrapped in their special blue wrapping paper. As excited as I was about my new tractor, I was even more excited at the thought that Habachi bears actually came to our house Christmas Eve!

Jump ahead with me  now to my year at WOLBI. That spring, I went on a hike with my father to the Habachi bear cave in Crane Mountain. It was almost unbelievable that I was actually climbing into the front cave of the Habachi bears (of course, I went no further out of respect because to this day, I believe my father is the only one to have seen the bears). A few years have gone by and each Malone son has received one Habachi bear when they got married to continue the tradition on with their families. Cheryl and I have set our baby bear under the tree where it observes the little red and green candies that its aunts and uncles carefully made.

These are a few of my memories, and what excites me the most is the many more that lie ahead. I may be 24 years young, but when I go home in just a few days, I am looking forward to hear if my dad has any more adventures to share of his hikes in the Adirondacks. My new little niece, Amelia, is almost for certain going to hear, for the first time, about these little Christmas bears, and I’ll add that to my memory bank of the Habachi Bear Tradition.

So from now on, when you’re sitting down by your Christmas tree eating red and green candies, just remember the tiny paws that were holding that candy months ago so that you could enjoy the time with your family and friends during the Christmas season.

What I Like About Coffee

After living in Seattle for nearly two years now, I find that I fit in pretty well. However, it’s not because I love the rain, hike the mountains or hug the trees. I fit in because I like coffee… a LOT! When I think about it though, I have to ask, “What’s so good about the coffee?” Is it the rich flavor or smell of the dark roasted beans? I enjoy both of those qualities, but that’s not what interests me the most. What I really like about coffee is who you’re drinking it with. Aside from my morning cup, I’m usually enjoying my coffee with people, whether I’m waiting for class to begin, talking to co-workers, or meeting an old friend, I enjoy the conversations that occur over a cup of coffee. The drink may be cheap, but the conversations are priceless. I might order the same dark drip coffee, but I know the stories will be different every time.

Needless to say, some cups of coffee are a hit, and others are a miss, and such are stories in life. I’m sure some of my posts will be distant and others irrelevant, but I’m hoping that a few of my stories might be refreshing to some and encouraging to others. These are the stories of a student, shepherd, and husband.