On Handling Turtles

I was just a couple of minutes from my home; on my way to the airport. I came to a curve in the road, and noticed that there was a vehicle pulled over to the left-hand shoulder with their hazards on.

Pause. Let’s talk about the “fight or flight” response that each of us has hard-wired into us. When presented with an unexpected situation/crisis, there are those whose instinctive response is “flight”, meaning they want to get away from that situation as quickly and safely as possible.

I’m not a flight guy.

Anytime I see something out of the ordinary, or anything that might be a situation where help might be offered, my instinct is to offer it. But it took me about two nanoseconds to realize there wasn’t a crisis–well, not a crisis I could help with. Unpause.

A woman bounded out of that car that had pulled off on that left-hand shoulder, and a second later, I could see why: There was a turtle in the middle of the road. She saw it and apparently was intent and determined to intervene. I drove safely past, but watched the situation unfold in the seconds following, in my rearview mirror.

I’ve heard a few different theories/cautions when it comes to “helping” turtles across the street. Some say it’s best simply to leave them alone to let them roll the dice on their chances of getting across the road with shell and life intact. Some think they should pick them up and bring them to the nearest safe ground, even if that’s back where they came from. Can you imagine being a turtle and the speed at which they travel, and having a giant pick you up and put you down at what equates to miles back the way you just walked??? If turtles could curse, am I right?

This woman chose to speed the turtle along on their journey in the direction they were headed. If turtles could bless, am I right? As so often happens, I immediately had a sense that this very quick rescue mission had something to do with how people of faith in Christ live. Maybe a lot to do with it. Maybe not.

Probably not. But I thought it anyway. And true to the spirit of this website’s title, here I am.

I’m not a turtologist, but I do know there are different types of turtles. And as such, there are a variety of turtle temperaments. What, you think “snapping turtles” got that name from the way they snap in the jazz clubs after an especially smooth number wraps up? I’m fairly certain it’s more nefarious than that.

So back to the lady and the turtle. She saw a need. She saw something in danger. She saw that she could do something about the situation. She sprung into action, with little regard for her own welfare (remember that curve in the road I was coming around when I came upon her and her rescue mission).

She was determined–come what may–to do something about the destination (and destiny) of that shelled friend. Bottom line: she cared enough to act.

That’s one half of the story. The woman. But what about the turtle? Let’s imagine the turtle could decide how they would respond to the attempt of the woman to “help.”

Do we care enough to act? I think most of us would say that we do. We see needs, we even see peril, and we step in to serve, to respond, to help, to save the situation. It’s actually the most Jesus-y response. Read the gospels. Seeing humanity in need and choosing to simply drive by was not an option for the Messiah. Indeed, “to seek and to save” was His mission. It’s stated clearly in Luke’s gospel. (Luke 19:10)

But what of the turtle’s response? Can you imagine that turtle stretching out its neck so it could reach back to the hand that had reached out to help it, and sinking its beak into the flesh of that hand? Can you imagine that turtle withdrawing into the safety of its shell when a do-gooder approaches? Can you imagine that turtle yelling back over its shell (do they have shoulders?), “Maybe your truth is that I should get safely to the other side, but that’s not my truth. Now put me down before I pee on you! I’ll take my chances with traffic, you intolerant bigot!”

I realize that likening the Christ-centered life to a turtle crossing might push you to unsubscribe from my little blog website here, and I guess I have to own that. But since most of you aren’t subscribed anyway, I’m just gonna take my chances. (That was my not-too-subtle way of inviting you to subscribe.)

Back to my question: Do we even care enough to do something outside of our predetermined path? Are we willing to do what(ever) it takes to intersect with the lives of others, as they hurdle toward danger, and offer them another alternative?

A great man and friend, Jerome Hancock used to tell us (in the context of our local church’s ministry): “Those around us might be on their way to hell, but they’re going to have to go through us to get there!” There’s this defiant determination that the turtle-loving woman I saw put on full display. No matter what it costs, I’m going to do something when I see someone hurdling toward an eternity apart from God.

I know, I know. Some turtles not only don’t want help or saving–they don’t even think they’re in danger. So we handle that as it comes. But that must never stop us from living in such a way that we at least offer those around us an alternative to going it alone on their own strength.

“For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” -Luke 19:10

Closer to the pin

I love golf.

Hang on. Let me back up.

I love the idea of golf.

Yeah, that’s better.

I used to play a fair amount of golf, back in the day.

Actually—hold up—let me modify that statement:

I used to play golf when my golf-loving Dad would invite me to play with him.

Yeah, that’s definitely more accurate.

Some of the things I can appreciate about golf are:

  • It’s never the same game twice; you’ll literally never take the exact same stance or swing the same way twice.
  • It demands focus. And I mean FOCUS to do it well consistently.
  • It’s as much mental as it is physical. (I hear some of you jeering that it isn’t really that physical, and that’s okay.)
  • It interacts with nature, which as we all know can be brutally unpredictable. Winds, grass length, tree branches, water, and light all play their part in making up every swing of the club.
  • There’s an etiquette embedded in the game. Did you know men must wear a collared shirt when they play? The three key words to acceptable golf fashion are “neat, clean, and comfortable.”
  • It’s a game that encourages teamwork, but ultimately, the outcome is up to me.

There are more reasons, but you get it. I want to share something I learned about golf years ago, and how I define success in golf whenever I play (I don’t play much anymore, but would love it if invited. Hint Hint).

One day I was out golfing with my Dad, and since he is a much, MUCH better golfer than I, he took every single shot to heart; as if every shot he took was determining whether he’d wear that famous green jacket or not. If I recall correctly, we were, that day, on an unremarkable golf course in Winchester, VA, where I was living at the time. He was visiting and, of course, brought his clubs so we could spend the day on the links.

As time went on, I could see his frustration rising. You see, golfers have this thing that happens where one bad shot can very easily give birth to another bad shot. String a few bad shots together, and you’re suddenly someone who has no right holding a club. Take it to its logical conclusion and you’ll see why some golfers resort to wrapping their club around the nearest tree trunk. But no one can argue with their passion, I’ll say that.

So as I recall, I stopped my Dad mid-tirade and made a suggestion. “Dad, how about we redefine what a good shot is?” We instantly both agreed that our new definition of success for any shot we took would be “Closer to the pin.” (For those of you who aren’t golfers, the “pin” is the flag that sticks up and out of the “cup”. And the “cup” is the technical name for the hole you’re trying to ultimately get the ball into.)

So there we were, on some random fairway on some random golf course on some random day in Northern Virginia, with a new vision of what good golfing looks like, right in the middle of our game. The cloud hanging over us broke up, the wind was suddenly sweeter, and the overall mood turned weightless. It was a decision we made together that instantly changed the game.

Christians, let’s be honest. Many of us need to let go of some of the rigidity of religion that has caused us to view it as a score-keeping regimen rather than a fiery relationship born out of and rooted in grace. In other words, we ought to tear up the scorecard we’ve been clutching.

Each day, ask one simple question: Am I closer to Jesus today than I was yesterday?

That’s it. And use your honest answer to that one question to calibrate your heart, decide your trajectory, and fuel your passion for Him and Him alone.