Speaking of Lions…

I spoke at a 5-day Christian youth event in Washington (state) two weeks ago and on the final day, I was told that one of the volunteers at the camp— a man in his sixties named Bob— would be carving some wood with chainsaws.

Turns out Bob was two-time world champion in chainsaw wood sculpting (I’m sure that’s not the technical name) and when it came his time, he circled all of us up— roughly 120 kids and 25 adults— and gave us a quick talk.

Now, I can’t stress to you how quiet and gentle and humble this guy was. Throughout the week he hardly made a peep, just walked around smiling and nodding and talking about how great Jesus is (I know this is often the description for a certain wacky breed of Christian, but trust me, in this dude’s case, it was authentic— not a crutch).

Just before Bob began cutting, he told us a story. You could tell he wasn’t very comfortable in front of a large group, which made the whole thing even more touching. Bob went on to tell us that he met his wife when she, as an eight grader (and he as a HS Junior), moved into the house across the street. He went on to say that she waited for him throughout his whole service in Vietnam and how, that day in Washington, was the longest he’d been away from her since. He began crying as he said he would be heading home to see her that night.

Then, once Bob regained his composure, he said a few words about his love for Jesus. And, just like when he spoke of his wife, he began tearing up at the mention of Jesus’s name.

Now, I know lots of people aren’t on board with the whole Jesus thing like I am, but that’s not the central point here. Instead, it’s to highlight what a gentle, humble, authentic, passionate love it takes for someone to, when speaking of his/her beloved, be rendered incapable of holding back tears. Regardless of your personal faith system, being around people like that reminds us all what it means to be human, to be vulnerable… and it reminds us how beautiful it is to love and be loved.

Bob went on to carve a lion face. When done, he put it aside and began carving a bear out of the remaining chunk of wood. The whole time he was working on the bear, I was eyeing the lion, running schemes for how I could get it for myself.

Turns out, I didn’t need a sceme: Bob had originally intended on giving it to me. And when he was finished with all his work he called me to the front and presented it to me.

I’ll be honest: it’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. Chances are I’ll never again see a world champion performing his or her craft. I mean, how often do you meet a world champion of something?

That lion’s head will remain with me for a long time, reminding me not only of the man who sculpted it, but of what it means to love others so passionately and humbly that I care more about them than myself.