How Crossfit, Crossbows, and Cross Training Shoes Combat Zombies

From Nazi Zombies to “World War Z” to “The Walking Dead”, images of the post apocalyptic snarling undead are ingrained in America’s cultural psyche. There is also a Christian cultural fascination with the Left Behind series and biblical prophecies of impending end times doom.

Sometimes biblical and cultural realities merge in our warped imaginations.

Come on. Don’t act like you haven’t daydreamed your way into a doomsday Zombie attack scenario while your pastor was busy trying to break down the 70 weeks of Daniel 9. What you’d do first if all hell broke loose, who you’d protect, what would be your longterm “bug out” plan. So here are five fool-proof tips to survive the coming crisis without having to lock yourself in a prison food closet with no outlet for…um…”processed” food:

1. Find your “Noah.” You’re probably related to him (or her). He’s probably a distant cousin you haven’t seen in 17 years. He’s been living off the grid lately and he fully expects to escape the coming tribulation with pickled food, an embarrassment of generators, and thousands of rounds of military ammo. If you can stomach his propensity for vast conspiracy theories and railings against the Illuminati it may save your life. Most importantly, he is a man or woman of old school MacGyver-esque sensibilities which include breeding goats, building underground bomb shelters, and blowing up stuff with homemade mortars. Be sure you know the fastest route to Noah’s house without having to travel major highways.

2. Running shoes. Well, since they are only the “Walking Dead” they can be jogging shoes. The electrical grid will be down and nonrenewable resources will run out in 2-4 weeks. Like Jesus and the disciples, you’ll have to hoove it from town to town (avoid big cities). Buy some good insoles and quality Nike, Adidas, New Balance or those weird Five Finger shoes.

 

Cross training shoes may be your best fit since you’ll likely be running on a variety of sketchy surfaces. Your feet are your greatest commodity. Beware: Even in the zombie apocalypse, Crocs with socks will get you laughed at.

3. One word: Crossbow. Forget the guns. Ammo will run out and gunfire will attract herds to your location. A crossbow is an apt discreet zombie slayer and arrows can be reused. More importantly, a crossbow can be used to kill food sources like rabbits, raccoons, squirrels, and former house cats (I kid…but seriously) Even if you have tons of freeze-dried food from that failed Nutri system diet plan, it doesn’t matter. Because of looters and herds you will not be staying in one place for long. Get a crossbow. You can wait for heavenly manna, but you know the wise Proverb: God helps those who hunt with crossbows.

4. Another similar word that can save you: Crossfit. You know that psychotic workout routine your in-shape friends keep inviting you to do so they can make fun of you? The one where the women dead lift Mack trucks like they’re lifting up a small child. Trust me, you need to get in better shape than you’re in now. You want to be able to run for miles and still have enough in the tank for hand to hand combat with a herd of mouth foaming undead car mechanics. Maniacally flipping monster tires and snatching tree logs over your head may very well be a marketable job skill in the forest tribe you’re forced to join.

The best apocalypse fitness solution may also be to join your local Parkour club. Jumping, flipping, scaling fences and climbing walls can keep you alive. If your family wonders why you’re playing on the park jungle gyms all the time tell them you’re just getting ready for your “Ninja Warrior” debut.

5. The Bible.* According to some lone ranger named “Eli” this holy book will be worth more than water in the desperate desert apocalyptic new world. Oh yeah, and you also need antibacterial wet wipes. The word and wet wipes. Don’t forget.

Bryan Daniels

*Seriously, you will need Living Word and Living Water. Not just for then, but now and always.

Imaginary Haters and The Real Way of Hate

There’s no greater proof of this generation’s narcissism than its fabrication of imaginary “haters” to make it feel more important.

A whole segment of music and culture submit to this ridiculous ideal: That someone is out there, and that someone hates us for simply being so awesome. Artists like Kanye West have carved a sizable niche from the music market based on this assumption. Their pointed lyrical message to all the haters resonates with the cultural masses. “These envious faceless hordes can’t just be happy for my success…Haters!”

But I doubt it. I don’t doubt that you’re awesome (I’m sure your mom believes you are), but I doubt that someone literally despises you for being you. Or “doing you.” Or however those cool kids say it.

I’ve taught and coached high school age youth for a few years now and nothing is more ingrained in their combative psyche than the prospect of their own personal mythical mass of haters. Having “haters” brings a level of street cred. These hate groups are scheming against them at school, fronting them at the mall, and subtweeting them on Twitter. Those #oomfs are always up to something. Apparently, it’s a full-time occupation being a playa hata.

Kids used to have imaginary friends. Now they have imaginary haters.

Here’s a revelation: All these mean folks probably aren’t “hating” on us. I bet, for the most part, they’re just being people. They’re having a terrible day, they’re busy, they’re self-absorbed, or they may not even know we exist. They may simply have never been taught basic manners or social skills. But it’s doubtful they are preoccupied with all-consuming hatred towards us. That angry glare they were giving was probably directed inward at a bad memory, not at what we were wearing.

Believe it or not: The world and its hatred doesn’t revolve around us and our awesomeness.

People just don’t hate much anymore. At least not in the red-faced loathing sense. That requires too much passion. Too much emotional investment. To really hate something, we have to actually care first.

The hatred we’re more likely to experience, and express, is the hatred of shrugging neglect. We’re apathetic slackers with other people’s lives. With souls. With images of God with interesting stories and deep hurts and unique gifts.

We hate with pitiful indifference when we don’t treat humans as humans. As truly unique and truly interesting. As fellow bearers of an immortal flame housed in fading tents. That Imago Dei is still deeply loved and cherished by the original One who created it. They’re worth time and conversations and coffee and eye contact.

So in a sense

Don’t hate.

but also

let’s not accept the desperate narcissistic cultural stance of being “hated” on either.

Hater.

Bryan Daniels

The Battle of Our Age Is a Nursery Rhyme

There are some battles I don’t fight much anymore.

When I was a younger man (I’m 30!) strong of heart and mind I would dive into whatever simmering debate kept my idle polemic skills warm. These were mostly good hearty theological discussions of:

Premillennial Eschatology vs Amillennial

Continuationist Charistmaticism vs. Cessationism

God’s Sovereignty vs. Man’s Free Will

I still dabble in these things. But my fragile frame of mind and soul doesn’t find much joy in the debate halls anymore. It may just be the season I’m in. I can really only handle simple truth now. Like the truth that has haunted me since Vacation Bible Schools and tree fort battles dominated my childhood summer days. The rhyme that goes:

Jesus loves me this I know

For the Bible tells me so.

The little ditty of epic truth that I could barely grasp as a 4-year-old. Or maybe I grasped it perfectly as only a child can.

Who knows.

Being settled, assured, and knowing the love of Jesus is a lifetime pursuit that never ends. Resting in unconditional love is the simplest, and hardest, posture in life. Love without condition is not believable, because we attach conditions to every thing. With every shovel of self-righteous assurance or self loathing condemnation, we’re trying to dig our way back to a perfect garden.

We’ve tied the universal principle of reaping and sowing to God’s affection toward us. This affection isn’t constrained by a law or principle, it’s wild and free. But bondage to our good and bad works restrains us.

Like if we show up to God’s gate with enough dirt in our fingernails and sweat on our brow we’ll get a pass. But only the blood, dirt and sweat of Christ is a good and perfect payment on our behalf. And he gives entrance freely because He love us. It’s in his nature to do such things for dirty sweaty folks like us.

“This we know.”

Not “this we understand”

We can’t understand perfect love.

“For the Bible tells me so…”

It’s evident in the word He’s given us. He doesn’t leave this awareness solely up to our shifting emotions or weak intellectual reasoning. He gives evidence outside of ourselves. That is fixed and assured and anchored in timeless passages of truth.

It’s there. In black and white and clear in its propositional brilliance.

It’s a message that curious 4 year olds, disenchanted 30 year olds, and stubborn 70 year olds can all cling to and feel afresh:

“Jesus loves me this I know…”

The battle to believe and rest in that every day may be the most urgent fight of our time.

Bryan Daniels