An Attempt to Explain

My Post Game Analysis

2012-02-06T05:26:00.000-08:00

I watched the big game yesterday. I enjoy football. It reminds me of Sunday afternoons with my dad. I'm not as dedicated as I used to be, but if there's a game on, I enjoy reconnecting with those memories.

Of Course my memories also include dozens of advertising vignettes, that creatively tried to sell me cheap beer and domain names. Everything about Superbowl coverage is product placement. Every award, replay, player of the game, is sponsored by something. And of course we anticipate the commercials. In my experience, the beer commercials are usually the most creative. I still have vivid images of the Budweiser frogs of my youth. This year was a bit lackluster, mostly they tried to make it look like sophisticated people rather than rednecks drank Budweiser.

A not so funny series of commercials were by G&E. They had one where cancer survivors met the people who made cat scan machines. It was rather sentimental. There was a gentle crescendo of violins when they arrived at the factory and met the employees. Several of this year's Superbowl ads carried a seemingly heartfelt concern for the real issues in the world. Seemingly.

But this isn't really about football or commercials.

I heard something last year around this time that I forgot about until driving home after the game. This "something" didn't make headlines, or get an envied spot as a Superbowl commercial. It is something I'd honestly rather not think about, especially on a day that should be filled with laughter and good food. But if the past fifteen years of the Superbowl are any indicator, yesterday, Indianapolis was the best place in the country to pay money to have sex with a child.

The Superbowl is the largest event of the year for the sex slave trade. Two years ago in Miami it was estimated that while the Indianapolis Colts were being raped, so were 10,000 victims of the sex slave trade, most of those 18 and under.

If you watched the game, I hope you enjoyed it, but don't let Ferris Bueller commercials, the bulging breasts of several dozen women, the notion that G&E might care more about people than money, or even your severe love or hatred for a few dozen men you know very little about distract you from the realities of what this game meant to a possible 10,000 people this year.

I'm not sure what to do with this info right now, and I'm not sure what you can either, but I think we should be people willing to live within the tensions of joy and pain. I want to be awake, I want to make a difference, I think that starts by recognizing there is a problem.

If you'd like some info from the experts about what you can do, here are some experts.
www.traffick911.com

Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places

2012-02-02T07:47:00.001-08:00

God knows I can't pay attention for very long. As a musician, I'm always looking for innovation, a new guitar tone, maybe a fancy new way to guide rhythm in a song. When I hear new music I become obsessed. I field dress it several times a day until I can pick out every layer while hanging upside down blindfolded. Then, in the distance, I hear the new Coldplay album tinkling in the breeze. And like a child who spots a shiny yellow dump truck accross the room, I set down the White Stripes and make like a zombie toward Mylo Xyloto.

God knows I can't pay attention for very long.

One of my favorite poets is Gerard Manly Hopkins. Hopkins believed that everything carried an essence within it, an essence that ultimately points back to Christ, which is where I got the title "Christ plays in ten thousand places." This has been my life. God seems to teach me things by having them pop up everywhere, sort of like a Made in China sticker seems on practically every toy from my childhood.

In the past few weeks that lesson has been about suffering in the world around me (which will be it's own post later on). The sources include a sermon at my church, an episode of NPR's This American Life, President Obama's speech at the national prayer breakfast, an email from some missionaries from our church, and then last night through my wife's reflections on a day where God was teaching her the exact same thing through some pretty difficult and random (If you believe in such a thing) circumstances. And I just lay there, half listening, half telling God, "Ok I get it, I get it."

God knows I can't pay attention very long, but instead of beating me over the head for not focusing, He gets creative.

As Kingfishers Catch Fire - Gerard Manly Hopkins

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;

As tumbled over rim in roundy wells

Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's

Bow string finds tongue to fling out broad its name;

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:

Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;

Selves-goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,

Crying What I do is me: for that I came.

I say more: the just man justices;

Keeps grace: that keeps all his going graces;

Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is -

Christ - for Christ plays in ten thousand places,

Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his

To the Father through the features of men's faces.

The Difficulty of Listening.

2012-01-30T04:25:00.001-08:00

Listening to pain is a difficult thing. It feels impotent. I just listened for a half hour or so, fighting constantly the need to give my opinion to a good friend suffering things I can't even begin to understand, unsure of what to do. I admit I failed a couple of times and chimed in with my thoughts, but I consider these unhelpful mistakes. My friend just needed an ear.

In the past three or so years, I've had more conversations like this than I would ever wish on anyone. I've seen men crying and raging like a teenage girl who got dumped while on her period. And most of the time all I can think to do is listen, which, I think, is really what is needed. People need a safe place. People need a bucket that they can vomit into, someone who can really ask "How are you?" and mean it.

So here are a few tips for listening

1) Like I said before, I'm tempted to speak up. When people divulge the pain of life, one can't think in terms of syllogisms and the details of "the right thing to do." There's a time for that, but if that comes at all, it is step number three or four, maybe eight. What people need is for you to shut up and nod.

2) Beverages and food. Every painful conversation should involved both liquids and solids, something light, something comforting. Winter time calls for a hot beverage of course. Coffee shops can be good, but are prone to interruption. A corner of a dining table and three or four cups of coffee go well together. For summer time experiences, a cold drink on a warm summer evening is, I think, the best time to open wounds. Also, having something to drink helps you keep your mouth shut.

3) Avoid sympathetic terms. You probably don't understand what the other person is going through. Having your boyfriend or girlfriend dump you, while significant to you, probably isn't the same as experiencing the pain of destroying your own marriage, being betrayed by family, or failing to the degree that your reputation is thoroughly wrecked. People know you care because you have been sitting on the porch listening to rehashing of the same story since 11:00pm, which was five hours ago. Understanding nods and eye contact are acceptable. No need to open your mouth and say something stupid like, I understand. Unless of course you went through the EXACT same thing and actually can.

I have several more tips, but most of them could be summarized with the following. Shut your mouth, and open your ears and heart.

Also, never say "Don't worry, it will be ok." Worst thing you could possibly say.

That is all.

For The Thing Itself.

2012-01-27T03:45:00.001-08:00

I'm tired of doing things as a means to an end rather as an end in themselves.

Writing for example. There was a time when I wrote as a means to an end, mainly to get better at writing. It worked, I became a better writer. I'm glad that I forced myself to do that sort of thing, but I'm glad I don't do it quite as much anymore. It was miserable. It basically took the thing I wanted to love to do and taught me to hate it. I'm glad I survived that experience.

I suppose you could argue that sort of experience is a step in any proces, but I dare say it is a stage of immaturity. Marathon runners get up morning after morning, fighting the urge to sleep, but always glad to be alive and going once their feet hit the pavement. I don't understand runners (nor do accountants understand why I would ever be so keenly interested in improving my grammar).

Maturity does the thing for the thing itself, even if it is a means to an end. This post, this sentence, these words are the work in front of me and it brings me joy to arrange them on my screen this morning. Of course this world is still tainted, sometimes I have to fight for that joy, but most mornings, even in the frustrating times, it is there.

I'm going to take a turn now and point myself in the direction I originally intended. Last night my wife was talking about whether or not she took her faith seriously enough, or whether or not she did enough. If I can be honest for her, she has to fight the feeling about what she 'should' do, which is funny because without even realizing it she is drastically selfless. I fight these sorts of things as well. Certain things that Jesus said about caring for down and outs cut at my rather self centered existence. I find myself continually fighting what Brennan Manning talked about when he said "don't should on ourself."

Brennan Manning was one of those people who did the thing for the thing itself, to the point that he almost didn't seem aware of the service he was involved in, including work with the homeless and AIDS patients in New Orleans. It's a sign of his maturity (though he was certainly deficient in other areas). To him, loving was the means to the end and the end itself.

I want that.

Say Something

2012-01-06T04:08:00.000-08:00

Communication is a tricky thing. I've been writing, giving sermons, and making music to various degrees for the last several years, and I've found that the most common theme in my communication is that it is typically misunderstood, sometimes because of poor communication on my part, but more often because language is a flawed institution formed by flawed beings. English for example is an amalgamation of French royalty, religious Latin, and the ramblings of whatever drunk Viking happened to occupy the British isles.

I led a workshop at CMC's conference this year on communication. To jump start our discussion I posed the question, "Who knows what the word Hosannah means?" I was specifically thinking of the song Hosannah by Hillsong, that uses the phrase "Hosannah in the Highest" in the chorus. I've probably sang this song several dozen times at my church, but only have a vague notion of what Hosannah meant. I thought it had something to do with God saving us, but the phrase "in the Highest" threw me off. So after fifteen or so seconds of silence the pastor in the room piped up and said he thought it had something to do with God saving us, but even he seemed unsure.

There are verses in the Bible that talk about words. There are verses that say not to use idol words, or have worthless conversation. I used to think these verses were talking about those four letter words that I used to roll around my mouth on the tractor because that seemed so foreign with their harsh germanic inflections and sharp syllables. I would say them until they were sounds devoid of meaning I don't know maybe God was talking about four letter words, but I think more than that God is looking for his people to be people who say things that mean things and bring life. I think he was talking about communicating life when we speak. And while Christian's are good about avoiding sins of commission we run rampant through fields of meaningless communication.

I don't think it's a Christian problem, I think it's a human problem. In North America we know how to say a whole lot without saying anything at all. Maybe this sounds a little too much like "The good ol days" but watch a Mike Myers comedy like Wayne's World and compare it to something more recently by Will Ferrel. I'm not saying either are the epitome of intellectual excellence, but watching Wayne's world might require me actually knowing something about economic or political conditions, and jokes sound like they were thought out rather than just being an impromptu session of Ferrel screaming random barely incoherent phrases. I fear for the intelligence of this generation.

I believe we have a responsibility to communicate life, which is really so much more than saying Hosanna or Jesus saves. I'm sorry but words lose meaning, language changes, and what you think is so clear to the world might not sound much different than me talking to you about the importance of understanding tapered versus analog contours when selecting potentiometers, or even the debate about whether or not guitars should just be true bypass with a push-pull cutoff switch. That all actually did really mean something specific and real by the way. While that all makes perfect sense to me, clear as day, it means nothing to you, and to get you to the point of understanding what I am talking about might take a while. How much more difficult is describing relationship, let alone relationship with God. I think it takes a lot of work and creativity, otherwise Jesus wouldn't have told so many stories (which are by the way still looked at, even by the secular world, as an amazing example of communication skills).

I'll leave you with some words from a skeptic who taught me about meaning what I say and saying it well.

Our Bog Is Dood

By Stevie Smith

Our Bog is dood, our Bog is dood,

They lisped n accents mild,

But when I asked them to explain

They grew a little wild.

How do you know your Bog is dood

My darling little child?

We know because we wish it so

That is enough, they cried,

And straight within each infant eye

Stood up the flame of pride,

And if you do not think it so

You shall be crucified.

Then tell me, darling little ones,

What is dood, suppose Bog is?

Just what we think, the answer came,

Just what we think it is.

They bowed their heads. Our Bog is ours

And we are wholly his.

But when they raised them up again

They had forgotten me

Each one upon the other glared

In pride and misery

For what was dood, and what their Bog

They never could agree.

Oh sweet it was to leave them then,

And sweeter not to see,

And sweetest of all to walk alone

Beside the encroaching sea,

The sea that soon should drown them all,

That never yet drowned me.

Resolving to Fail

2012-01-05T05:39:00.000-08:00

I'm doing something this year that I have thought about doing for a while now. I'm not going to tell you exactly what it is. I've found that if I express my larger goals too quickly I get this sense of satisfaction as if I've already done the thing. So for now I'll be keeping my mouth shut so I don't let out the motivation.

I can tell you that what I'm trying to do is one of the more extensive, long term, projects I've undertaken. It feels like the first time I drove across the country alone. At first it was a fairly exciting venture, around Boise things got boring enough that I had time to actually consider what I was doing. It took me until somewhere in Wyoming before I finally settled down and thought I might make it. Right now I'm somewhere in Boise and a lot of details are settling in. I'm terrified. At times like this it is a lot easier to think about all the things I'm doing wrong, all the things that I don't know. It's a bit overwhelming, so I'm shifting my goals.

My goal is to fail at my project.

I'm not giving up, all those details are still sitting there, I've just given myself permission to fail. The whole reason I set out on this journey in the first place is because I want to get better at something, and the best way to do that is repetition. So really the only unacceptable failure is giving up.

Ok, let's get to it.

Fundamentals

2011-12-26T03:47:00.000-08:00

I spend a lot of my time trying to streamline my life. I try to shortcut the process of whatever I am trying to do at the moment. With my writing for example, it's easy for me to spend a couple of hours watching videos, or reading books about writing, even studying sentence structure and word choice of my favorite authors. These things are good. They teach me things about what I love to do. The problem is that they are full of motivating promise without any actual results. Unless I sit down and write, a lot, I'm never going to get anywhere.

Part of the problem is my fear of imperfection and difficulty. It is one thing to think about a great concept to write about, or even a couple of quippy sentences that cut like a razor, but to actually sit and piece something together usually involves several revisions, at least two cups of coffee, and an ongoing battle with my self-confidence. Just like the best stories, the best examples of writing are typically born out of a painstaking process of frustration and continual failure, until you wake up one morning and have a vague notion that it might have been worth it.

Maturity is the same sort of animal. Growth is slogging journey through pain and failure, every so often interrupted by a glimpse of accomplishment overshadowed by what it took to get there. It's easy to fight this sort of process. We would much rather cross the desert by setting land speed records than walking. But, it is the day in day out that has made me the person I am today, and the same slogging that will make me into the kind of person I want to be.

Jesus modeled the same sort of process. It is strange to think of God incarnate preparing for something, yet he understood the rhythms of life enough to wait 30 years before starting the biggest portions of his ministry. There were a million steps taken before he turned his face to Jerusalem. As I read through stories about Jesus, where he went, and what he said, I see a patience with his process of living and teaching. One of the things I see clearly in Jesus life is that he was not paranoid about progress and efficiency. He was focused on the long term.

So this morning as I set pen to paper I attempt to do so with patience and purpose. I think Jesus prefers it that way.

When Perfect Meets Imperfect

2011-12-23T10:43:00.000-08:00

Language is imperfect. Words are nuanced depending on the experiences attached to a word.

For example: Cat.

The picture you have in your mind probably varies based on whether you love circuses and think of a Lion, or are picturing a little kitty of your childhood.

This is a very small example, but when we get down to it, it is very hard to communicate precisely when using the human language. Which is why I find it remarkable that God tried to communicate with us at all, knowing that his message would be misread, misheard, misrepresented, and misunderstood through the ages in so many ways, which is a good reason for us to be humble about any theological conclusions we reach. Galileo was after all declared a heretic for believing that the universe revolved around the Earth. According to the church he opposed the obvious scriptures like Psalm 93:1 that says "...the earth is established, it shall never be moved..."

Language is just another way that God used the imperfect to do something about the mess we caused, and it is humbling. Studying language makes me realize that while God's truth is perfect and absolute, the language of the people he communicates to, as well as the people themselves are not, and yet He still does it and makes beautiful things.

The Joys of Squirrel for Breakfast

2011-12-02T05:30:00.000-08:00

I stand by the right to publish incomplete snippets. The point of this blog is to build a unity. Basically, if there is a unity in my life, it will become apparent what that unity is. No post is a complete thought, theology, worldview, or poem within itself, it must be taken within the context of the entirety of this blog, considerations of who I am in public as well as who I am in extreme situations like when I am forced to wake up at 4:30 in the morning to help my wife jump start her car in 20 degree weather. I recognize my right as a flawed human being to do the following: 1) be wrong, 2) change my mind, 3) be inconsistent, 4) have improper grammar and spelling conventions. You are just as flawed, wrong, capricious, and prone to theological alteration as I am... so get over it.

Silence is a valuable commodity. Thoreau wanted it badly enough that he moved into the woods and built himself a little cabin. There is a small wood near my school that I walk by between classes. I often mentally dig through my backpack to see if I have enough supplies to survive for a week or two. The small cup of unheated gourmet soup made for me by my wife is probably too meagre a serving for that long. I don't have a knife with me, or matches for that matter. Even if I did have ample supplies I'm sure that someone would suspect a vagrant when they saw smoke rising from the trees, carrying with it the smell of sizzling squirrel bacon.

Some day I hope to have a very small cabin in an old growth forest, with a pot belly stove and lots of books and paper and pens and a guitar. I think there is something beautiful about a bit of isolation and silence, it makes you realize that a life without computers, cell phones, amplified instruments, cars, to the minute deadlines, and higher education, isn't as terrible as we've made it out to be. I'm not trying to be earthy or nostalgic. I just think I would love living isolated in the woods for a couple of weeks, maybe even a month out of each year, even if just to remind myself that the world doesn't end if I'm not a part of it. I think everyone should be forced to realize that at least once a year.

The Turkey Purifies

2011-11-30T04:30:00.000-08:00

To the contrary of the senseless christmas music rambling fury of commercial Alzheimer's, we are just exiting the Thanksgiving season in which we celebrate three of America's top ten things to do: Watch football, eat too much, and buy more stuff than we can afford.

In spite of the less noble traits of Thanksgiving, I am still appreciative of a holiday whose tricks a culture of spoiled children to say thanks at least once a year, "Yay, thanksgiving break!" God knows we need it like air.

I used to think Thankfulness was about being nice and showing other people you appreciate them, or at least to make them think that was the case. I was supposed to thank my aunt for that horrendous gift of a (not really) Lego set that won't fit with the real thing. Apparently the goal is to make her think that she is a good gift giver so she can continue to get me what she thinks is the perfect gift without having to try. Thank you for your sub par attention to my interests. I may have some baggage.

A friend recently talked about being thankful, continually, in everything, no matter what. I would argue with him, but the apostle Paul backs him up on this one, though I'm sure he would change his mind if he knew about my aunt and fake Legos. They didn't have fake Legos when Paul was writing half the New Testament. Paul said, "In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Yeshua The Messiah among you."

That is powerful language. You don't throw around words like "everything" or "will of God" all willy nilly, especially if you're writing the Bible. There is something deeper at stake here.

I got thinking about this being thankful for everything bit and did a little experiment. For the course of about fifteen minutes, I tried to be consciously, genuinely thankful for every little thing I did or interacted with.

-Thank you God that my door opens.

-Thank you God that I have shoes to take off.

-Thank you God that you inspired people to create Pumpkin Spice egg nog.

-Thank you God that we have a couch.

-Thank you God.... for my smartphone.

-Thank you God that I can sit here and play a pointless game on my smartphone for a half hour....

....wait a second.

I tried to say thank you a second time, then a third. Something was hitting the ceiling.

It's hard to say thank you about a deficiency. While I may often enjoy my deficiencies like I love picking like a scab (don't pretend you don't do it too), I can't meaningfully say thank you God for my anger problem, thank you for strong hands to beat my wife with, thank you that I haven't ever had to do anything significant with my life. The reality is that there are things I can't say thank you for without stopping for a second to think, "Should I be thankful for that?"

There is something purifying about being thankful. Is it petty to say thank you for my iPhone or the time I waste on it? I'm not entirely sure, but if it is, should I even have it in the first place? Is it an issue of petty ungratefulness of a spoiled child, or is it something I can't show to God and say, this is an actual blessing in my life, thank you that I have it. Either way an inability to be thankful shows me something needs to change.

The things genuinely worth being thankful for are the things worth keeping in my life.

Something Worth Fixing

2011-10-14T06:50:00.000-07:00

Relationships gain significance with time and experience. I have this emotional portfolio for everyone I know, filled with all sorts of random memories. Some people have a cover letter, explaining when and where I met them, and how that first encounter went. These are the people I rarely see, or talk to, or hear about. Then there are several dossiers that have so much piled into their slightly ripped and faded manilla casing that there is no way to go through all the information in one sitting. Hundreds of pages serve no memorable purpose, but add their collective weight to the manilla monstrosity, helping show that something about this file is very important.I am fortunate to have more than a couple of these very full dossiers.

Life currently finds me going through some of these files, realizing wrongs done and close friends left behind. There is some bridge repair that needs to be done, probably painful stuff, but these are the sorts of past experiences that have made these relationships worth building. There has been too much history to give up now.

A Way to Community... Maybe.

2011-10-04T18:18:00.000-07:00

I'll be up front, I am stealing the foundation of this idea from Don Miller. I'll also admit that I have a man crush on him. But that is beside the point.

There are things that I do that I hate doing. These things always go bad. They are continually uncomfortable, even awkward. A year or so ago Miller wrote a post about making a list of things you will not do in the following year, sort of like an inverted list of resolutions. I made a list.

I won't try to recount my list for you because I don't remember what was on it, with the exception of one item: "I will not watch a movie with a group of people when everyone spends about a half hour deciding what movie we should watch." This always went poorly for me. Everyone would try to think of something, maybe throwing in some movie that they sort of heard about from a friend of a friend, or some obscure movie that took five minutes to explain why it was worth watching. I don't remember one time where I wasn't watching the movie thinking, I hope so and so likes this one, or man this really isn't as good as they said it would be. And so it made my list.

The reason I remember this one is because I have actually stuck to it, rather obnoxiously I might add. On several occasions, before anyone can halfheartedly recommend anything, I interject as if their words could destroy the world, and assign the task of selecting a movie to a specific person (usually the one who suggested we watch a movie). It doesn't matter what movie it is, so long as it isn't porn or something by hallmark. I trust my friends enough to know that they know me and the others in the group and can make mature adult decisions. After several experimental interjections I've found this method to be highly successful. Well, at least for me. Previously few were happy with the outcome anyway, a compromise of everyone's taste resulted in a movie that no one enjoyed.

I think why this works, and I think the point of what I am just now getting to, is that when people resign themselves in advance to the decisions of another person, there is a laying down of personal preference prior to the event. I think there is something beautiful in doing that that makes this process deeper than movies.

Community, real and deep community, happens when tell each other to pick the movie, when we look at someone and say, "Help me understand you and who you are, even if that makes me uncomfortable, or dare I say it, bored." I think when we do this in advance we open up a door in our being that allows us to really listen to someone else, and possibly even enjoy it.

I am guilty of trying to command the situation (e.g. telling someone to pick a movie). Even if I do let someone else drive conversation, I do it by guiding them with questions, instead of just listening what they have to say. When I do this, I'm hindering community. Maybe next time I should watch their life, knowing that someday they've agreed to watch mine.

What Makes Something Meaningful?

2011-10-04T17:29:00.000-07:00

Let's cut to the chase. We want something honest.

Now that I answered my question, allow me to elaborate.

The most meaningful, and I would argue life changing, conversations I have taken in were not planned, organized, programized (new word), or taken from an outline in a book about having meaningful conversations. They snuck up on me as if I were an unsuspecting bird bathing under the supervision of some tiger like tabby cat.

These sorts of encounters only started to happen when I learned to be honest, and not in the generic I am human and have problems sense. I used to do that to make myself approachable and likable, and sometimes even 'spiritual', as if my generic issues made me qualified to understand grace. Until I learned to shame myself in front of someone and put myself in the position where they could justifiably wonder why they would want to talk to me, I didn't encounter much in the way of this sort of life changing heart exchange.

These sorts of encounters never happened in Bible studies. I'm not sure this was the fault of the Bible, or God, because most of my meaningful moments came back to Him and His thoughts. I think it has something more to do with what people do when they get in situations like that. You're showing up to this thing where you sit with a bunch of people you somewhat know with the intent of finding some deep spiritual truth that no one in the history of the world has discovered before in the course of about 30 minutes. What usually ends up happening is that someone asks generic questions that the verse just read obviously answers. If not that, then things head off on the most impractical yet divisive theological issues you can think of. I hope to never attend another Bible study again. On the other hand I very much hope to explore life through the thoughts of God, within deep relationships, many more times.

These sorts of encounters didn't always have a singular point. They sort of meandered around whatever God forsaking trouble I, or my co-explorer had got into, asking the whys and hows and how to get back to innocence. I don't apologize to say that not everything in life has to be a coherent, singular, point. Record your focused conversation sometime and see just how thesis like it really is. This doesn't scare me as much as it used to. I don't think this means that life isn't coherent, I think it just means that maybe the unifying theme is something deeper and more relational than a few tidy points. Maybe that's why we can't wait for the Bible study to get over so we can play cards and laugh together.

A Poem.

2011-09-21T10:12:00.000-07:00

What the Waves Know.

He stares at waves he has seen before,

That he laughed at in innocence,

That he wondered at.

The waves wave back and play on the shore.

They recognize the man in the hat,

Who's gained one or two wrinkles

Since they saw him last.

He waits. He stares. Wanting more

Than their knowing furious silence.

He yells. They say nothing back.

The waves simply wave and play on the shore.

They play there knowing deeds present and past;

The things he's told them when the stars twinkle;

Things he now wishes he could take back.

He sits. He stares. Wanting more

Than their deserved insolence.

He cries. Yet -now comforted by a hand on his back.

The waves simply wave and play on the shore.

Now two wrinkled men sharing deeds present and past.

Laughing at the wonders of innocence,

and plotting together how they might get back.

The New Girl on the Block.

2011-09-20T15:35:00.000-07:00

***Forgive the following illustration, it in no way signifies the state of my marriage.

Not more than thirty minutes ago I logged on to the digital neighborhood of the internet and stepped out to the edge of my street to check my mail. And there she was. There across the street was the new girl in my digital neighborhood. Her name? Google+ (I'm not sure what the whole + is about, but I figure if Prince can use an unpronounceable symbol for his name then she can use +). Intrigued, I walked across the street and introduced myself. I was casual and rather uninterested, though I was very interested. We were about halfway through a great conversation when I noticed a moving blur over her left shoulder, peeking around the edge of a house. Facebook. I felt a small sense of shame. I was faced with the reality of this new intriguing crush, while still relatively involved with the friend who had been there since I discovered what social networks were.

So here I am in this little love triangle, something's got to give.

All joking aside. I don't really feel like juggling TWO social networks, though I find them useful as a musician and a writer to connect with other musicians and give an outlet for my writing. There have actually been tangible real life relationships that have developed through social networks that I today consider very valuable. I've also found it a good forum for some great ideas to be shared.

So for now this is the plan. Probably going to keep up facebook, spend less time on it (like I already should) and check out + to see if it's going to be a benefit or a time waster. Honestly with the plethora of google items I already use (this blog for example). I'll probably end up in the latter circle (pun intended). That's the plan/guess.

On another note, I'm reminded again of the value of all this networking and whether or not it's a necessary (of course not) or good (maybe) thing. Investing in relationships isn't a bad thing (usually) but I'd rather not invest more time in mindless consumption of status updates, especially when I have a list of other reality based items I'd like to accomplish.

Anyway, hello google+, nice hair.

30 ft is Roughly 40 Years long.

2011-09-19T03:46:00.000-07:00

The plane in this picture is travelling at just over 500 m.p.h.... toward my father and oldest brother. 0.1 seconds later it adjusted pitch by about five degrees and forcefully landed into a group of 50 or so people in the box seats in front of the grandstands, making a two foot deep by six foot wide hole in a military grade tarmac.

By pulling up, the pilot probably saved a couple of hundred lives, including my father and brother's, exchanging them for 9 others.

I'm not sure if I'm allowed to be grateful.

My dad said he didn't have his life flash before his eyes. There was just an adrenaline induced silence ringing in his ears as he stared down the Mustang as it slashed it's four broadswords frantically, trying to scare the crowd away, then a sound like a bag of flower being dropped on a wood floor.

If you've seen saving private Ryan, this would be one of the scenes that teenagers would talk about the next day, only this time the effects weren't digital. It's funny how we try to make movies as realistic as possible, yet we wish that no one would ever have to witness something like this.

My brain always pulls me to a larger scale. I am comparing my fear of what this post could have been about, then to what it is about for people other than my father, then to what it's like to people in war torn countries or people who lived somewhere in Europe and might have been shot at by the plain that hunted down 9 more victims a few days ago. Ultimately, I place this in the context of history, and somehow this becomes normal. This is our normal.

For my dad, 30ft may mean 40 more years on terra firma. By comparison, the world and it's history is 7901 miles wide.

It took 2 seconds for the Galloping Ghost to call in a mayday at 50 feet, roll out of control, climb 100 or so feet, and come down another 152. Dad said there wasn't enough time to have his life flash before his eyes.

I feel grateful, yet unsure. There is something here I have to accept, that 9 people died instead of my dad. There is a tension there I don't know how to resolve. It's like someone is letting a jazz chord hang in the air, maybe something diminished, and I wait for the resolving note to come. There is a beauty in the chord, but the dissonance haunts me. It sounds like it's going to hang in the air for at least another 30 ft or so.

What I Can Do With Five Minutes?

2011-09-02T05:25:00.000-07:00

I'm reading Ben Franklin's Autobiography. A story of a very interesting, resourceful, and self-inflating person. Franklin was dedicated to self-betterment to the point that he kept charts on success (or failure) in his self defined virtues as well as a rigid schedule of work, study, and even liesure. Which leaves me wondering, what can I do with the next five minutes.

We have opportunity in each moment to convey some sort of significance to the world around us, or to prepare to convey significance at a later moment.

I spent my five minutes sitting down to convey and prepare to convey with my writing (something I don't do often enough).

What will you do with the next five minutes?

Followership Conference

2011-08-24T05:32:00.000-07:00

There are two men sitting North Northeast of my direction chatting about a church conference they are planning. Swapping stories about all the Christian celebrities they have heard; dropping their names like they live next door. Apparently they want to set up a new leadership conference in the area.

If you aren't involved in a church, or if you are and have your head buried in the sand, you might not have heard of a leadership conference. Otherwise you might have been invited to at least twenty three in the past month (Yes this is hyperbole, like Jesus used). Which has caused me to wonder, where is the followership conference? It seems Jesus talked about following a lot more than he talked about leadership.

I would set this up but that might involve leadership, which would be counterproductive to the goals of the conference.

The Best Year of My Life.

2011-08-22T08:35:00.000-07:00

I took a walk this morning through the forest that sits a few blocks from my apartment. My companion was the Book of Common Prayer and its morning liturgy. Liturgy makes you, no forces you to reflect on what has been and apply it to the present and future. This mornings air carried an extra dose of clarity, delivered joyfully by a band of feathered musicians. I took a deep breath of the clarity then exhaled, letting the clarity pass over the vocal chords of my mind, causing the nerves of my brain to reverberate: This has been the best year of my life.

Certainly by Hollywood standards it's rather lackluster, I just consulted my wife to see if a deluxe hot dog from Goshen's hot dog man was an acceptable luxury. So it's not the finances. It's tempting to think that this past year's success has been entirely due to my lovely bride. Sure, that plays an important role, but it's something more than that. As I tried to take apart this past year like a swiss watch I found every gear that made the every day tick was coated in a glow of gold.

Part of my reading this morning from the book of common prayer was a section from Psalm 51 "Give me the joy of your saving help again and sustain me with your bountiful spirit." It is tempting for me to think I am neglecting some charismatic response, that I am supposed to have some sort of hormonal rush for God like I had for girls when I first hit puberty. Not today. I reflected on my previous thoughts of this past year and acknowledged that the best year of my life is attributable only to the saving help of God. The little tweaks and minor adjustments he made like a pair of gracious braces on the twisted teeth of my heart.

As far as lifestyle goes, I feel like I have so much, but only because God has shown me what things in life are actually valuable. What I have with Courtney has been amazing, but only because God has shown us that our selfishness doesn't get us what we really want.

The great part about all this is that how good this year has been has not been dependent on changeable things, but what and unchangeable God has done with changeable things. Which leads me to believe that next year might get even better.

Last Words

2011-07-13T09:27:00.000-07:00

I just got off the phone with my grandpa. He'll be going in for a second surgery in a few moments. Things don't look good and I am faced with the reality that he might not make it.

People tend to die quicker than we would like them to. They leave at inconvenient times, like when you are asleep or in another part of the country. Rarely do people have the opportunity to say a few final words knowing that there might not be a next time.

The question is, what do you say? Do you try to sum up a lifetime worth of experiences, maybe talk about that time that you turned the wheel on the boat while your grandfather was untangling string that you caught in the motor? Maybe he'd laugh about the glasses that were still at the bottom of the lake. They are still there aren't they?

The problem is, there is really nothing left to say other than I love you, or maybe thank you. And in an instant the phone is pulled from their ear and you face the reality, the possibility of losing earthly access to a lifetime of experiences, memories, recipes, suggestions, family stories, and songs from the fifties about a man who gets fired from a Chicago department store for getting frisky with the female customers.

It is cliche' but sometimes things are cliche' because they are continually true. You don't realize what you have until it's gone.

The Way We Remember

2011-07-11T05:25:00.000-07:00

It has been just under a year since Courtney and I began life together in marriage. For our anniversary, this past weekend we went to Yellow Springs, Ohio for a couple of days. I had been to the area two times before and thought it would be a good getaway spot. We were particularly excited about walking through Clifton Gorge.

It is funny how certain events trigger memories. It is particularly hilarious how we tend to remember those things. Somewhere near Lima, Ohio as she thought about the past year Courtney remarked, "You know, looking back on our honeymoon, it was really great. I mean it was perfect!" I stared at her for a few moments, trying to decide whether or not I should jumpstart her memory and whether or not it would ruin our trip. I knew exactly what she was thinking about. A section of our honeymoon was perfect. Maine was beautiful, we had a great place to stay, we ate wonderful food, watched the sunrise over the bay, stayed up late on the dock and listened to the breeze and the water lapping on the shore, we biked around the island, it was a great time. What she was failed to remember was the 20 hour drive there, the crappy hotel in Albany, the too small tent in Connecticut, the wasted drive to Rhode Island, the food poisoning, the last second really crappy hotel, the food poisoning, the hospital visit, sleeping on the floor at a friends house whose air conditioning was broke while their entire family was there. We had some great times but perfect seemed a little far fetched. I reminded her which made her laugh at her oversite. We decided we remembered it as perfect, therefore it was.

Upon arrival we scoped out our hiking route through Clifton Gorge and headed through the limestone carving. As expected it was beautiful. I can't say this is the most amazing place I've been in my life, or even the top ten, but living in Northern Indiana for several years gives a person the ability to appreciate any minor change in geography; It is sort of like having your eyes gouged out in order to gain a better sense of smell or hearing. All joking aside, as you walk through the gorge the rock walls and trees filter out the oppressive elements of an 85 degree day, multiple brooks make their way to the stream and produce the ever calming sound of running water on rocks, and the birds work like DJs during rush hour playing all your favorite hits. Mixed with some hearty exercise the hike made for a relaxing experience.

By the time Courtney and I had made our first 2 mile pass through the gorge we were a bit pasty but not winded. As we looked at the trail map we considered our options for the return trip. Our top two nominees were the North Rim Trail (which was more inviting to our sweaty feet as it was a half mile shorter) and the Conestoga trail that was a bit longer and made us eventually pass parts of the trail that we had already walked. Though we thought the second half might be a bit boring as it would involve some retracing, we wanted to stick close to the river and see if we could catch some new scenery.

We made a good choice. After a while we started seeing familiar territory, but at a different angle. We started seeing things a little differently than we did the first time. We caught different angles of the river, saw some new vistas that we didn't turn are head enough to see the first time. It actually felt like it was a new trail, new but still familiar.

Courtney's comments earlier that day, mingled with our trail experience got me thinking about memories. I had been to Clifton Gorge before. Being there brought back strong scenes, some great, some not so great. As I went back over the memories I noticed things I hadn't before, partly because of things that had happened since then, but mostly because looking back brings a new clarity and muddiness. The harsh edges are taken off the bad memories, making it possible to think about the softer moments you couldn't experience at the time; it's mercy really. Forgetfulness is a form of mercy.

I now have new memories of Clifton Gorge and the enchanting Yellow Springs now: Making up stupid poems with Courtney; staying up late talking with our transplanted, in your face, Chicago hostess about faith, life, and polotics and all the other things you aren't supposed to talk about with people; amazing food like fresh dates with goat cheese wrapped in bacon in Yellow Springs; talking music and documentaries with the record store owner named Josh; dangerous mountain bike trails in John Bryan park; great.....uh.... conversation with Courtney. It was a perfect weekend. At least, that's the way I remember it.

God's Vacuum Cleaner Giveaway

2011-07-08T06:43:00.000-07:00

Courtney and I have a vacuum cleaner that my parents bought for me a couple years ago. It is blue like a race car, but it is missing the big engine. Despite its noticeable lack of power, it did the job for my once a..... for the one or two times I cleaned. After marriage I was informed by my wife that the sweeper was not satisfactory.

We have a pug named Murray. He is adorable and hilarious. He also sheds like it's going out of style. I'm pretty sure if Jesus were around today and wanted to talk about the power of a bunch of individuals in community he would use Murray's vacuum clogging hair as an example. "You see, each of you are all like an individual hair from Murray. Soon many of you will fall to the ground but it will not be in vain. You will clog the cheap underpowered vacuum cleaner of the enemy."

At least once a month my wife informs me that the vacuum is broken. She tried to clean it out, it won't work -we better get a new one. Once I have it running again she pretends to be grateful that it is alive.

A couple of months ago she was particularly miffed about the whole vacuum thing. Actually we were both feeling the pains (if you can call them that) of not having enough stuff, or at least the bare necessities (if you can call them that) of life in the United States. After a bit of grumbling we both started feeling sticky and gross. After months of general contentment in our circumstances we were becoming something whiny and disgusting.

Enter God.

After God did a little whispering -which we didn't notice till we were done arguing, we realized we were keeping a part of our dirty hearts from Him. We had talked to him about a lot of the boulders,"Dad get rid of selfishness in us (marriage is good for this), open our eyes to what you want us to do, thank you that we have a place to live and food." The pebbles were starting to blister our feet, but they were petty and should be put up with like good frugal content Christians.

So we had a little come to Jesus moment around the table. A 3x5 card became the alter on which we sacrificed/asked for the things that were fighting for our thoughts. At the top of the list was a new vacuum cleaner then a few other items including a trip to Maine for our anniversary. We both felt a little guilty asking God for such things. We both figured he had bigger more spiritual things for us to pray for.

In the following weeks something beautiful happened. I didn't hear Courtney complain once about the vacuum. In fact we talked about squeezing it in the budget but she stopped me and said it was unnecessary. Thankfulness for what we did have seemed to replace (most of the time) the discontentment. The list was inevitably buried under wedding invitations, recipes, and due bills; dismissed from our thoughts but not God's.

This morning I took my in-laws old Dyson vacuum cleaner to get fixed. They had bought a new one before realizing the old one was still under warranty. They are giving it to us. Not only is it a top of the line vacuum cleaner (probably more expensive than I would ever want Courtney to buy without an altercation), it is a pet hair edition. We were reminded again of the list.

The vacuum wasn't the only item checked off the list, in fact it wasn't even the biggest. A few weeks ago, Courtney and I were sitting in the Denver airport on our way to Oregon for my brother's wedding, waiting for our plane. While I sat there oblivious to anything but Muse in my headphones Courtney heard them announce that the flight was overloaded. She jumped into action and got us $800 in flight vouchers for an extra three hours of waiting in Denver. Those vouchers are going to make it possible for us to go back to Maine next year for our 2 year anniversary.

I feel the need to interject a disclaimer. I really do understand that God has much more for us and desires much more from us than vacations and vacuum cleaners. I think He would rather give us something that changes our hearts than make us comfortable. There is a lot of comfort ahead for those who follow Jesus to it. But as much as my frugal Mennonite background wants God to be a frugal Mennonite, God often seems to speak to us in ways we will understand, even if that seems to bend toward my materialistic North American mindset, even when we are not exactly a prime example of what it means to be a follower of Jesus.

There are a lot of ways I want to resolve all of this, and make it tidy, but really that's not possible. My mind is too small to tidy up God, at some point I just have to accept who He is and what he does, and be thankful in all things. I am pretty sure this is from God, because I'm feeling more excited about the fact that God is tapping us on the shoulder than the fact that we got a new vacuum cleaner and a trip to Maine. Honestly I think that's what he wanted anyway.

All The Reasons I Have to Pass Out.

2011-05-05T18:49:00.000-07:00

Bearing the emotional intensity of a situation is not typically North American. I want to medicate my stress, numb my pain, and pretend everything will be, or just is ok. If your goal is to live life fully, this does not help much.

I am often afraid, in this case afraid of a paper that is due next week. On a larger scale I'm afraid of failure -that somehow I'm not good enough, or smart enough.

There are a lot of ways to medicate things: food, sex, mindless entertainment, good company and casual conversations, but none of them actually take care of things

A friend of mine told me recently that he is trying to feel the full force of loneliness, or failure, or whatever negative emotion he is feeling. I've been inspired, and it sucks. At least its real. It takes a lot more courage to face things as they are. Ultimately it leads me to dependence on God.

I think people who make it through their lives without some sort of major meltdown are those who have found a lot of ways to medicate themselves until they die.

Random snippets I know. I'll allow you to arrange it in your own mind.

Currently afraid of failure and horrendous grammar,

Jason

Revenge Never Brings Redemption

2011-05-02T06:39:00.001-07:00

There is a lot of celebration today, as if something good has happened. That depends on what your definition of good is.

Phillip Yancy in his book, What's so Amazing About Grace? used the terms 'grace' and 'ungrace' to define actions in the world. He argued that grace was the only thing that could bring redemption and end bloodshed. Grace does not guarantee peace (in the short term) but is the only way to get to true peace between hearts. Ungrace, he argues, only breeds ungrace.

Today was the closing of one chapter and the opening of another. Stocks went up accross the world as people believed the world is now a safer place. I hate to be a downer, but I believe wood has only been added to the fire.

A good friend of mine like's to blame every Historical event in Europe up till World War II on the power vacuum left after the fall of Rome. While it's a bit tongue in cheek, every military conflict can be traced to another military conflict. Ungrace breeds ungrace.

I've been watching the conversation develop on Facebook and via NPR. Many are celebrating the death of a deadly man. I don't blame them. This man has brought a lot of pain, chaos, and fear to the world. His actions will continue to be felt for years to come. But today is a reminder of the upside down kingdom I am called to.

Jesus said difficult things like love your enemies, or do good to those who would falsely accuse you or persecute you. I've heard a lot of qualifiers for why as a follower of Jesus I should be fine with killing certain people under certain circumstances, but I can't seem to find how that logic fits in with the way that Jesus talked about his kingdom. I'm not writing this post or even this blog to prove some point, or make a theological argument that I hope you'll adopt, I'm saying this so you'll understand what today is about from my perspective. If you're getting ready to refute my claims, you aren't listening.... put down the Bible Everything will be ok we can talk about it another time.

Today I'm reminded that the kingdom I'm living in is about grace and redemption, making new the things that are broken and disgusting, and leaving behind all the things we have the 'right' to hold on to. Paul, the man who ended up writing most of the New Testament was a religious fanatic, whose goal was to silence or kill the early church. Sound familiar? It's easy to forget that. It's easy for me to read about the untrusting early Christian's, "Excuse me, who did you say wants to come preach next Sunday?" and laugh at them for not believing in God's redemptive power. I'm sure many of those believers knew people Paul had killed, they still had a load to bear (or give to God), while Paul experienced the joy of salvation, even in the midst of his cries that he was 'the worst of all sinners.' Bin-Laden didn't claim Jesus as Lord. I doubt he thought of it in his final moments. He didn't dedicate his life to sharing the love that was so freely given to him. In that sense, he and Paul were entirely different. But until a life is ended, as a follower of Christ, the more my heart is formed to His, the more I will see his burning passion to change hearts like the one in Bin-Laden, and the more a day like this should bring tears of loss not joy to my eyes.

I want to qualify this post with all sorts of things, but I won't. Just understand that this is my slice of the pie right now.

Ezekiel 33:11

"As surely as I live, declares the sovereign Lord, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live. Turn! Turn from your evil ways! Why will you die oh people of Israel!"

Your Opinion is Valuable

2011-04-13T09:50:00.000-07:00

You might not think your time and your opinion is valuable to others. Depending on how you use your time this may or may not be the case. Everyone has influence of some sort. Even the slightest amount can be powerful. Don't think about avacados, or how they're green, or that they taste good mashed with a bit of salt, lemon, and garlic. I just used some of my influence over you to direct your thoughts. You too posess this power. Recommendation is a powerful tool. I encourage you to use it. Once a week draw attention to an idea, person, musical group, or book, that you found impacting and significant. For example if you are a writer, Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird is a must read. Make sure you don't overdo it and post so many items that no one can pay attention. Find the things that really count and share them. Once I got mad at a youth group for climbing on top of an alter at a cathedral. They hadn't ever seen me mad before, so when I was they took it seriously. On the other hand I know of kids who don't even seem to notice when their parents turn red with fury. Your influence is like that, the more you spend your time hyping up everything, the less time people will listen. You have influence but it's like money, if you keep printing more, each dollar is worth less. So how will you use your influence today? -Jason

Just Keep Moving

2011-02-25T09:45:00.000-08:00

I am tormented by insecurity. Usually I'm overcome with a feeling of incompetence. Issues range from finances, to a reading assignment for school have the ability to shut me down emotionally, sometimes for an entire afternoon.

Unfortunately this usually happens to me when I write or make music. If something isn't going well I tend to shut down emotionally, I try to disconnect myself from whatever I'm working on, so if it doesn't turn out well I don't have to experience the pain of creating something not worth reading or listening to.

I wrote my wife a poem today, I'm pretty pleased with it, and knowing my wife I'm sure she'll love it, but there are another thirty or so poems I yelled at, threw away, or spit on.

I have to keep moving, keep writing, keep making music, knowing that somewhere in that struggle toward something is something worthwhile.

The Motivation for Change

2011-01-25T15:49:00.000-08:00

My love for God doesn't come out of ecstatic feelings, though He does sometimes enhance the joys of life, nor because He has made life a breeze, though I repeatedly see storms settle when I have nothing left to give. The sense of peace, the thought in the back of my mind that makes me want to smile, the haunting presence that makes me continue wrestling toward God is the fact that He has forgiven me, knows every thing I have done and will do, understands all the ways I have and will fail, and yet loves me and has committed himself toward making me into something beautiful, even if it means temporary pain.

Giving Quality Time

2011-01-24T07:32:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow classes begin. Spanish II, Hemingway and Faulkner, Intro to Fiction, and Shakespeare. Though I'm not overly excited about Shakespeare, I'm not dreading any classes this semester. I've already read four of the required reading for the courses in the past couple of months, a healthy diet of Hemingway, Faulkner, Mary Shelley, and Steinbeck, so I'm feeling quite prepared for what lies ahead.

In the past month I've been fairly productive and creative. Wrote a few mediocre posts, wrote a couple of songs, made some advances in my musical knowledge. The past month has been somewhat of a rediscovery of past creative energy that was eaten alive by mounds of school projects, reading assignments, and five articles for the school newspaper (only one of which I was happy with).

It is quite true that there are only so many hours in a day, and only so much we can do. Our time and resources are finite. Any thoughts we have of absolute freedom in choice are a delusion.

I live in North America, and though there are many exceptions I've recognized that my cultural tendency is to do anything and everything I can. No is not a part of my vocabulary. It is even more difficult when you consider the need around you. Kids need mentors, people need friends, the Red Cross needs blood donors, the House Rabbit Society of San Diego needs people to clean rabbits.... so much to do, so little time.

Saying no has been difficult for me, there is a lot of spiritualized guilt that goes along with it. "Why wouldn't you get involved with this great cause? It's for Jesus." The sad thing is that guilt tends to come from my own head. I don't want to let people down, I don't want to seem like I don't care about the rabbits of San Diego.

Jesus did talk about giving sacrificially, and I'm not one to pretend I should make my life as comfortable and care free as possible, but there comes a time that when we give so much to so many different things, in the end we don't give significantly to anything. I cannot connect meaningfully with all 700 people at my church, put quality practice in on the guitar, make dinner for myself and my wife, change the oil on the car, build meaningful relationships in my life, sit with a friend who is going through difficulty, play guitar on worship team, go to school, give guitar lessons, and take time to connect deeply with God, on a weekly basis.

So this is one of my goals for the year, and for my life. Give meaningful and deep attention to a select few items and people, because frankly I'm tired of constantly giving my wife, God and everyone else leftovers. I recognize that this means saying no a lot more than saying yes, which makes me look like a bum,

The Next Step

2011-01-22T10:14:00.001-08:00

I am a big believer that we should focus on today, and accept what today brings. Even something as wonderful as a bowl of Oregon clam chowder can be frowned at when what you were really hoping for was Maine lobster. Exalting our hopes and expectations of what tomorrow should bring can cause us to miss some great things in the here and now.

On the other hand, setting out to accomplish a task that can't be completed in one day tends to make each day significant in a bigger process. I didn't become the guitar player I am today by hoping someday I would, and I probably won't become the guitar player I want to be by hoping that I will. The things I have accomplished today are the sum of a thousand days working toward it.

There is a professor I had last semester that I honestly didn't like much, but that doesn't mean he's always wrong. There was very little I took away from the class but one good thing was this, When God makes a squash, He takes 8 weeks. When he makes an oak He takes a hundred years.

There is a passage in Psalms that says that those established in God's way of doing things will be like a tree planted by rivers of water. I think everyone wants to be a big oak, whether that's in some skill, economic status, social standing, relationship, or faith, but we try to do all these little things to shortcut the process.

Churches are a great example of quick and easy routes. In the past four years I've probably heard a pitch for at least twenty different methods of growth, lasting change, and ways to 'do church'. They all seem novel, and exciting, and make a lot of promises, but they last about as long as a Twinkie in my hands.

Sometimes people I trust and respect allow me to cut them open and count their rings as I listen to them talk about how each one was formed. During conversations like that I try to figure out how to replicate that for others, maybe with a five week series, then I realize that the solid trunk I am examining was fifty years in the making and travelled through long seasons of forest fires, drought, floods, and watching their neighbor get chewed down by a beaver. You can't replicate something like that in five 45 minute sessions. And yet we try.

Accomplishing long term goals are difficult in our culture, because we're so used to things that get done at the speed of light. Maybe to readjust yourself, go out into the forest and find a little tree next to a big one and stare at it for a 24 hour period and see how much it grows. Then think about the fact that in fifty years that little tree will be the size of the one that stands next to it now.

Something Other Gives Something Meaning

2011-01-12T10:49:00.000-08:00

I'm reading through William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury. Aside from the fact that it is one of the most difficult books I've read, it's a great look into human nature.

Faulkner used a lot of introspective stream of consciousness in his narrating characters, including all of their flashbacks as they move within a certain point in time. After a while I realized that all of the flashbacks involved the relationships and power struggles between the characters. This isn't really that profound, it's rather fundamental to all great stories, or rather any story, but the reality is that a great story includes more than just a protagonist. It is the other characters in the story, even flat characters like a bank teller that wears too much perfume, that provide a context for the protagonist to display his own character, personality, and even flaws. A good story is about so much more than the protagonists.

Really our own stories follow this trend, the more our stories are exclusively about ourselves, and involve only ourselves, the less depth and meaning our stories will have. Think The Bachelor, or Jersey Shore. As our lives become increasingly isolated or self-consumed, they will become increasingly shallow.

Think about the Tom Hanks movie Castaway. What if our shipwrecked friend had simply been on the island his whole life, and it was a story about how he chopped down trees and made fire and bashed his teeth out with ice skates.... The tension in the movie was the looming question... "Will he get back together with Kelley." Prior to his exile Chuck (Tom Hanks) puts off marriage due to a busy career. It takes him just a few days alone to realize he desperately needs other people, anything outside himself, much more than he needs his personal goals. The substitute is of course the famous Wilson "Nooooo Wilson. Come baaaccckkk!"

I think the most interesting people I know are those whose lives are about others, even their profession and personal goals seem to be to directly or indirectly help others in some way. In the end, these people also seem to be the happiest. I know that as a writer my highest moments are when my words and thoughts help someone else in a significant way, and most struggles that I have within writing revolve around whether or not my words reach anyone.

So the question is, is the story you are trying to write about something more than yourself?

Signs of the Times

2010-12-20T14:07:00.000-08:00

It's my birthday and I'll blog if I want to. I almost vetoed my writing desires. It seems a bit narcissistic to ask people to pay more attention to you on a day that is already shaped by the culture to draw attention to you.

25 is a pretty significant age. At 18 you can vote, smoke and drink, and the government considers you a legal adult. 25 is a little different, instead of legally being able to participate in activities that require some sort of foresight and wisdom at 25 people like insurance and car rental companies figure you've messed up enough with the smoking and alcohol to have developed the foresight and wisdom necessary to drive properly.

The fact that I'm excited about discounted car insurance and the ability to rent cars shows my age.

So to summarize. I'm excited about the drop in my insurance.

Use Your Imagination.

2010-11-15T13:24:00.000-08:00

I have to admit, I have some qualms with a lot of writing and music done by Christians. It's not that there isn't anything good out there, it's just drowned out by a lot of terrible stuff.

A friend of mine said, "Christian music is the only genre where you can really suck and get away with it." If you play at a bar, the guy in front rocking the air guitar is going to explore the depths of his limited four letter drunken vocabulary to tell you just how he feels about your mediocre guitar riffs. This sort of environment has two results, 1) you either get better so next time he rocks out Van Halen style 2) you decide getting better isn't worth the trouble, so you give up and free the world from listening to your 'artistic' version of the Final Countdown.

I know I know, people put a lot of work into their art. I really don't mind people being bad at something on their way to doing it well (otherwise we're all screwed), I just wish Christian audiences (and otherwise) would express honestly what they did and didn't like about something (to the artist). "Well Jason, your writing is a bit scattered. It makes me think you are buying your essays from a website run by squirrels. Frankly I think your ideas are nuts (sorry)."

So here's what I suggest you do. Next time someone shows you a piece of writing, or maybe a song they wrote, really read it. Either read it thoroughly, or tell them you don't really have the time. Make observations like "I don't think this is very interesting, because...." or, "I thought those lyrics were a little bland, it may have been a meaningful expression of your experiences, but you didn't effectively recreate those experiences for me."

Artists do need encouragement, but if there is any hope that they will improve, they do need to know what they are doing wrong. If they can't take any thoughtful (thoughtful meaning a thought out specific response) criticism, they probably shouldn't be a writer, musician, or artist anyway.

Please join me in helping young musicians, writers, and other artists (myself included), by honestly expressing your opinion in a thoughtful way. Otherwise we will continue to produce cliche' mediocre pieces of work that you will have to listen to, look at, and lie about for the rest of your life.

Thank you to those who have had the cahones to be critical of my writing.

Social Economics.

2010-11-10T09:49:00.000-08:00

We tend to say and do things that give us social currency, I should know, I'm in a band. I have just made a withdrawal from my social ATM and used it to purchase some of your affection.

Earlier today I was waiting for my Literary Criticism class (I didn't have to name the class but it makes me look smarter) when a couple of students walked by and started talking about another student, "Oh she's undergrad right?" People who are not grad students don't use the word undergrad that casually. Another social currency. I'm not saying we need to be paranoid, it's just more evidence that maybe I'm more than a little insecure if I admit it, and so are you.

All The Things Unseen.

2010-11-07T11:54:00.000-08:00

I appreciate the group of believers I spend time with on Sunday morning, but it still seems we are missing something, or ignoring it.

As I looked around this morning I saw several examples of messy hope. I saw a lot of people who simultaneously represented downfall and grace. I saw marital failure, bouts of promiscuity, substance abuse, depression, pain, and chaos. At the same time I saw people raising their hands to the only hope they have, admitting they cannot be their own hope.

What I saw was messy, but beautiful.

Meanwhile, what I hear seems ignorant of what I see. The man with the broken marriage likes to talk football, the woman with depression comments on a new restaurant. Were I to go on what they said it would seem God is being praised for a great meal or a sports victory, but I think I know better.

Someday what is said will be about what is, and it will be beautiful. For now it will just take some imagination to see what I know is there.

A Thousand Little Things Make a Person.

2010-11-04T10:29:00.000-07:00

When we think about life forming experiences, it's easy to get caught up on major life events as the only things that matter.

Like that time I had a crush on the baby sitter and tried to beat my brothers at hide and seek. At the time I was operating under the assumption that girls fifteen years older than me find this attractive. I don't try it anymore only because I'm married, and because I am twenty five. Hide and seek doesn't appeal to cougars like Corvette's do. So... I did successfully out-hide my brothers, and even threw in some extra hiding after I had already won. I was feeling pretty good about my romantic prospects with the babysitter until I needed to pass gas. It turns out I had diarrhea. If it weren't for that digestive issue I would probably be married to that woman. I suppose it's for the best.

People tend to take issues like that and use them to figure out why people are the way they are. I see some balding guy with scholar's glasses on the end of his nose saying, "Hm, that situation probably produced competency issues around women." Yea maybe, I do still shit myself from time to time when Courtney and I are having an argument, but in the end, as traumatic as that situation was, it was one experience that lasted about thirty minutes.

I used to have this idea that God changing my heart revolved entirely around major life events where he shows up and does something significant and amazing, which he has done by the way. I think this drives our desire to create that 'special moment' or make something spectacular or huge happen at every Bible study, prayer time, or scrap booking party.

I'm learning that much of who we are is formed in all those moments we don't give much credence to, all those little adjustments that God makes before driving things home in our heart. Which makes me ask, what am I doing with all those little moments?

It's easy to give into the minute rice version of following Jesus. Instant results that come out of some event we just show up for once in a while. But walking with Jesus is much more like cooking rice out of a fifteen pound bag; you have to boil the water, put rice in for fifteen minutes, let it simmer for fifteen minutes, then let it set on your plate for five more minutes so it's cool enough to eat; and usually you cook it a minute long or a minute short and its either soggy or crunchy.

What I'm trying to say is that I've seen people who go through a lot of 'revivals' and in the long run whether or not they look like Jesus depends a lot more on what happens in between those times, when very few people are watching, when there isn't some cool Christian band to get us excited about God.

People Don't Listen To You If Your A Jerk: Revisited

2010-11-03T06:25:00.000-07:00

Watched a video of a theological debate in class yesterday. It was enjoyable, the discussion was lively, and generally cordial, all except for the youngest in the group who wore glasses like Rob Bell. He was a jerk.

As I watched the video I became aware of my emotional response to him. I didn't like him. He kept interrupting other people because he had some important point that would seal the argument forever (he had a lot of those), and he talked about three times as much as everyone else. No surprise to me I disagreed with him the most. Cognitively and emotionally.

I could say that maybe I didn't like him because I didn't agree with him, but there was another member of the panel who was older, much more respectful, and much less arrogant (yet still confident), gentleman who took the same position. While I still found myself disagreeing with him, I tended to listen more, and every once in a while say, "Hm that was a good thought, I hadn't thought of that before."

Just because someone is a jerk doesn't mean their wrong, but it makes it harder to want to agree with them, or believe what they are saying is true. Frankly you are hoping that they are wrong and get embarrassed somehow. I don't tend to side with people and at the same time hope they get embarrassed.

My junior year of high school I went to this debate at Oregon State University. I don't remember much about it, except for one particular question during the question and answer time. During the debate it became obvious that the man Marcus Borg (a current member of the Jesus Seminar) viewed Jesus claims at deity as symbolic, while the other man was rather evangelical in his views. A student asked the question, "Is Jesus the Lamb of God sent to take away the sin of the world." Borg stuttered a bit then went on to explain the allegory, that Jesus wasn't actually a Lamb, and He didn't actually take away sins.

After a moment, the other man took a drink of water, smiled a bit and said yes. I would have understood a little chuckle from the crowd and from Marcus Borg himself. The response was meant to be poignant and impacting, but still tasteful. At this remark a large group of the audience erupted into mass applause, denoting a victory for evangelicals around the world. It was like they expected Jesus to come in and say, "Alright guys, you did it, thanks for ushering in my return and finally settling the question for every unbeliever everywhere." He didn't.

The evangelical man looked a little perturbed and spoke something into the mic that made the applause stop and the crowd feel awkward. He, unlike the evangelicals in the crowd, understood the idea about not being a jerk about your belief.

I don't know that applause like that really accomplishes anything, those people weren't clapping for Jesus, they were clapping for a zinger that made Borg look stupid. I doubt that drew anyone in the room toward the Jesus they represented.

He who has knowledge spares his words, and a man of understanding has a cool spirit. Even a fool when he holds his peace is considered wise; when he closes his lips he is esteemed a man of understanding.

Proverbs 17:27-28

What Scares Children About Christianity

2010-11-02T09:05:00.000-07:00

Growing up, I sat through a lot of business meetings with people who liked to sing songs like Victory in Jesus or They Will Know We are Christians By Our Love. I hated business meetings, a lot. A part of me found them entertaining, like watching a train wreck, or reality TV before reality TV existed. To this day I like the idea of being the fly on the wall in an argument, it's intriguing. I suppose if I was home around 1pm and had a tv I'd be addicted to soap operas.

Soap operas aside. Another part of me was scared. Kids don't think much about the future, but when they do there is this assumption that everything will be exactly the same as it is now, except that there will be a jet-pack or a pony, and a laser gun. As I sat in those business meetings I felt trapped, like I would never get out willingly, but I would probably get voted off the island at some point. After putting out my torch I would fly away in my jetpack.

If I were ever in a church that had business meetings like that again, I probably wouldn't go to them. If they made me I would probably listen to a Rock review podcast, put tape over my mouth, and gouge my eyes out. Obviously I kid. I would probably listen to James Earl Jones read the Bible, that way I would have the excuse of doing something spiritual.

Next time you decide to have an argument about whether or not the new chairs should be blue or red, or which version of the Bible should be used in preaching, or really anything that shows that you are fighting for something you consider more important than the person you are arguing with, remember there are children listening. They may be getting their jetpack fueled and ready to go.

Shame Looks Like Polite Behavior

2010-10-20T09:00:00.000-07:00

I've been pulled over nine times, for lots of reasons. I've only received two tickets, both of those for speeding. The first ticket was twenty days after I got my license, as I was driving to basketball practice. I was running late, and my alarm that morning was literally a half dead chicken being chewed on by our dog outside the window. I was distracted, and frustrated, and running late for JV basketball practice. In high school you don't show up late for practice, it hurts your chances of getting on the varsity team later, and ultimately getting a girlfriend. I was speeding, I got a ticket.

When you've been pulled over that many times with so few tickets to show for it, you start to think of cops differently. You'd think I would be fearless and feel invincible. It's quite the opposite actually. I could be staring at my speedometer, going 55, hands on 10 and 2, and I'll feel a fear come over me when a cop drives by. I just know he's going to get me for something. He and all his cop friends from across the country are having a discussion over donuts every morning about how they regretted letting me off all those times, and how they are going to get me one of these days.

Shame feels like that, this looming feeling that I'm going to get it someday, somehow someone will see that time.... even now I am thinking carefully about what sorts of words I use so I don't tip you off as to what I'm talking about. So here's where I check my speedometer, and put my hands on ten and two so you're none the wiser.

Some Day I'll Stop Blaming the Church.

2010-10-18T13:36:00.000-07:00

It's really easy to blame generic entities for my problems. McDonald's made me fat, those politicians are responsible for screwing up our economy, and germain to today's topic, the mainstream evangelical church is ruining everything.

I like to use the last one quite a bit. For example I could say that the church is terrible at relating to the poor, homosexuals, Democrats, and anyone else the deem outside of orthodoxy, faith, or comfort zone. For a few seconds I feel like I'm actually saying something, fighting the corrupt institution, setting people free from religious chains.

I don't want to use generalizations anymore, please call me out if I do. I'll try to be more specific from now on.

At some point I would like to be free from the angst I have against the religious culture I have experienced in my lifetime, as well as the one I have created in my own life, the second issue is they key to solving the first.

By the way I should point out that the religious culture I grew up in is full of wonderful people who care a lot about their faith and serving others. They have encouraged me to seek God, and in large part I have them to thank for introducing me to Jesus.

My default modus operandi is the opposite of the motivation that Jesus calls me to. Essentially I resort to insecurity, shame, people pleasing, and self serving in most situations. As a result I want to be validated by people around me that I see as somehow pious or passionate about faith (usually in external forms), and I want to fit in and be accepted by the culture I grew up in (namely North American Evangelical church).

As I look to be validated by a group that shares my faith in following Jesus, but chooses to express that in sometimes very different ways than I do I have two options: 1) stop trying to be validated by them through mimicry; 2) change them so they live like me. My cynicism and angst bring me to the conclusion that I usually do the first.

Jesus didn't feel the need to be validated by anyone but the Father, no matter what setting He was in. He said some pretty harsh things regarding the religious system of the time, but He had the right, seeing that He had originally put the Jewish system of worship in place. Jesus didn't cause a fuss because He felt insecure about Himself. Jesus seemed comfortable in His own shoes.

I probably won't stop raising questions I have about faith, but anything flowing from my own insecurities aren't helpful, they'll just degrade to urgent thoughts flowing out of insecurities. I'm sure I will continue at times to resort to insecurity and angst as a motivation but by the miracle of God's interaction with His people I think I'm heading in the right direction, this is after all a journey.

Why Kindness Matters

2010-10-14T18:02:00.000-07:00

If you are a Jerk, I'm more likely to think you are also an idiot.

It doesn't really matter if you are right or not. You might have arguments that would convince Hannibal Lecter to go Vegan. But if you give off that vibe that you are far superior to those around you, and that no one else has anything worthwhile to say, I probably won't feel like listening.

All the knowledge in the world is useless if it cannot be communicated effectively and cordially.

Thank you for letting me vent.

Too Much to Do On My Own

2010-10-08T06:37:00.000-07:00

Prayer is really important. It's not just a little thing we should do before meals, or a meditation tool we use to align our inner self; it is talking with God. It's something I don't do enough.

I've been praying more lately (lately meaning yesterday), not just the little talk to God here and there thing, but setting aside a chunk of time to pray about a lot of different things. It's a bit humbling. I'm starting to realize I didn't think prayer was that important before. In my head I had thoughts like, "Oh yes more prayer is better," but I saw it as something that had more to do with relationship than anything else. I realized this week that there is a lot in my life and the lives of those around me that God wants to change, and for whatever reason He waits on us to do something about it. As I've realized all there is to do, I've also realized I don't really have what it takes to get things done, and here I'm reminded that I am small, God is big, and prayer is important.

I took some time to pray yesterday.

"Oh dang maybe I should get that definitions glossary done for class."

"I think I got an email on my phone."

"I should do some reading for my Literary Criticism class."

"What about running to the insurance office to sign that policy."

I had a thought every five minutes. It's going to take some time to turn my mindset around.

Finding the Line

2010-10-05T08:11:00.000-07:00

I want to be honest with you, but because I care about you and what you think. I won't.

I'm trying to decide if that line means I love people enough that I don't want to disappoint them, or if I'm trying to maintain an image. I find myself in tension, I want to be completely honest with who I am, but I know that the words I say affect more than just my own life.

Derek Webb, previously a member of Sonic Flood, said the best thing that can happen to us is that all our sins are broadcast on the 5pm news. I'm thinking of leaking information and getting it over with.

I don't feel like I am hiding. I feel like I'm told to be quiet. The question is, is that God, me, or those around me saying that? The answer is important, and as a writer and musician the answer affects most of what I do.

I'm looking for feedback (either via the blog or facebook) on this one. I'm hoping for a bit of disagreement, I want to consider all aspects of this.

Thoughts?

Existential Verification.

2010-09-16T10:37:00.000-07:00

The proof is in the pudding.

I follow Jesus. A real person, past and present, who claimed he was God in way clearly understandable to his Jewish audience. He then invited people to leave behind their personal ambitions, and at times their wealth, in order to listen to what he said about life and reality and God, and to tell others what he said.

So here I am 2000 or so years later. I believe him.

Why?

I did grow up in a Christian home, which means one of two things. 1) I just inherited my parents views (or at least some of them) which are constructs and superstitious malarky or 2) I learned something true from my parents, and others, that I have accepted as truth and have embraced.

Either way I have tried to form my life around those views, those things which I believe are true, and have looked at the world with the assumption that the words in the Bible are God's word to us, and that Jesus is who he says he is, God incarnate... many implications follow.

It has been several years since I have decided for myself, to follow Jesus, to believe him, to submit my life to him. What have been the results?

Following Jesus isn't about me (at least it's not supposed to be), it's about him, but if the Bible is true, and Jesus is really God, then the things he said should also be true right?

"I have come that you may have life, and life to the full..."

-Over the past few years I have lived in various states of wealth, friendship, comfort, and emotion. During that time, I can easily mark parts of my life where I was trying (and still often try) to get something I want: sex, money, people's attention, recognition.... During those times, whether short lived or an extended amount of time, even if I got what I wanted, it felt like the morning after one emotional beer too many, I had reached my goal, but it had failed to deliver lasting result, it had let me down.

-I went to Ireland a couple of years ago, it was fun, but at the same time miserable. I liked a girl who didn't like me back, though she was a very kind and good friend. It was fairly petty, I was pouting about the whole deal. In the context of life it was small and insignificant, but in the moment huge. We went to this Island in Scotland, I sat down on an empty beach and talked to God, then just sat and listened, thinking about the things he says in the Bible, thinking about who he asks me to be. All of the sudden my problem didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that I shared life with Him. I felt like I was who I was supposed to be. Nothing in my circumstance changed, and I didn't learn to meditate and ignore my circumstance, I just sat there at rest, at peace even within them. I felt alive, I could feel every drop of water that hit my feet as the tide came up. This is just one of many times, in larger and smaller situations that have proved to me over and over again that the only lasting peace and life I have ever experienced have come in Jesus.

"Empty Religion Kills..." (my paraphrase.)

Jesus told the religious leaders of the day that they were like white washed tombs with dead men's bones inside. He pointed out that the whole system of worship was set up so that they would be led to relationship with God. If you do any kind of genuine study of the first 3/4 of the Bible (which many Christians largely ignore with the exception of Psalms, Proverbs, and 15 year old boys who giggle at the sexual references of Song of Solomon) you'll see that from the beginning it was about God having relationship with mankind.

-Growing up, and even now, I find structured religion (even Christian) largely frustrating, it feels heavy and stifling. Not because I want to go out and get smashed and Christians tell me not to, it is more because I would rather sit down and talk about life and God, and what he says rather than sit through another Bible study where no one says anything. I don't find a messy church, or messy people as an argument against the validity of what Jesus said, because Jesus (nor scripture) didn't lay out the church structure we have today, people did. I don't think God cares as much about the structure, for or against, so much as he cares about the beating hearts inside of it.

When I do religious things that are formalities, or organized events where I move through some religious motions (emphasis on my nonchalant nature) it drains me, it feels pointless and stupid.

People attending a church and saying it "didn't do anything for them" are backing up what Jesus said, if you are into religion, it's going to leave you empty and yield nothing but sporadic emotional responses to good music or some self inspiring message. When I gather with other followers of Jesus I want to hear, talk about, and honor Jesus, not here about an inspirational message from Tony Robbins. I don't like religion, I absolutely love relationship with Jesus.

These things are evidences of an assumption. And I'm sure that anyone could say things like, "Well you are just experiencing normal human reactions to religious experiences. Or maybe your set of assumptions have worked for you to help you cope with life." Maybe they would even say that of course I can get through life fine, it has been comparatively easy.

While I continue to experience, and talk to others who experience, that everything in scripture is applicable to life and everyday living, in North America, The Middle East, Central Africa, and Asia, that following Jesus is relavent across culture and time. Behind my assumptions are many more evidences that I could not express in several paragraphs (or several years of a blog), but in the end it has come down to faith, that Jesus has sought me out, and called me to follow him, which I have decided to do. A decision I have never regretted since.

Hello My Name is Jason, I am Addicted to Cynicism.

2010-08-31T09:06:00.000-07:00

That title weak. Using an AA staple? Cliche'

That would be my response if I weren't the one who wrote it. Now that I think about it, that was my gut reaction. I tend to be critical.

Classes began at Grace College today. I am currently between classes. Getting ready for another series of skeptical thoughts, looking for the things I disagree with. It's really a depressing way to live. When you look at life with a slanted eye, you will find what you are looking for. In reality everything is tainted, people do say things incorrectly, they will contradict themselves, they will live out their humanity.

I don't want to be an ignorant optimist, but I'm weary of telling people in my imagination that they are wrong. It never really changes anything, and makes it hard to listen to unpolished music (including my own). It does however have its upsides. If I am critical of something, I don't have to involve myself with it. I can feel free to dismiss myself as responsible to interact with it, because it's incorrect. If someone's worldview is tainted, I can dismiss it entirely. If someone is a little 'off', then everything they say is by default incorrect. It really simplifies life. Free's you from committing to anything substantial.

So here's to cynicism. May it die a horrible death.

Conflict is Like Shrapnel

2010-08-24T05:09:00.001-07:00

I'm dealing with a bit of conflict right now. Two people that I get along with, are increasingly frustrated with each other. So I thought I would share the things I've learned about conflict.

People often forget why they started fighting. In this case I think the presence of conflict has only created more conflict. They have fought so they fight again. For new reasons for sure, but I have had similar disagreements with each of them and found things going well. Which brings me to my next point.

There must be a foundation of trust before rebuke can be given. I'm sure there are exceptions for this, but I believe that actual trust (not just proclaimed) must be present before deep conflict can be resolved. I had a friend that I fought with for several months in high school, we eventually resolved the conflict, but only because we put up with each other for those several months. We didn't walk away. If the priority is to remain in relationship until the situation is resolved, each side will learn to trust that the other side is not leaving, and not simply trying to get away from the other. At this point vulnerability and reconciliation can begin.

Jesus said that people will know we are his followers by our love for each other, not by our doctrinal purity and 'rightness.' I'm not saying that truth doesn't matter. Jesus is God, and the fact that he died and rose again and is still alive and active is foundational to my faith. But I don't have to change my views, or compromise my faith in order to love someone, and to offer them the hand of friendship. Jesus said that it's easy to love people we agree with and get along with, being a little crazier than that he tells us to love people who drive us batty. My impulses to be deemed 'correct' fade the more my confidence is in Jesus. I know what I believe, I feel at peace with my maker, and he asks me to love my enemies (even doctrinal enemies). I don't need someone I don't like to validate my beliefs. The world has seen plenty of zeal for doctrine by christians, why don't we match it with our zeal for loving others.

The end of conflict almost always ends with each side humbling themselves in some way. Notice I said humbling themselves. We are not God, we cannot humble others in their heart, we can only beat them into submission. As evidenced by every oppressed minority in history, this only builds resentment and hatred, not resolution of conflict. Jesus said "as much as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone." This requires inward change of self, or rather allowing God to change us and trusting him to change others. As long as our talk is about what the other person should be doing, or how they have hurt you, resolution will not be reached. There is a place for venting, but once we let it out we leave it there for the one who sees it all clearly and knows what to do. (Romans 12:19)

Finally, be careful what you say to others about those you are in conflict with. There are dozens of people who I look at differently because of things that people have said about them. I'm sure I have done the same. It is easy to attack people when they aren't present to defend themselves. Just a sentence or two can damage trust between others. Christians really like this. If they aren't present we can frame things in a way that seem spiritual and justified, and we don't come across as mean or spiteful because we qualify it with things like "they are a really nice person, but they just need to _______." There are times to vent frustrations and ask for advice, but be careful with your motives and exactly how much information you need to share. When in doubt keep your mouth shut.

I want to say that all of the thoughts and warnings above are things I continually stumble through. This is as much of a word to me as it is to those around me. How I have handled conflict has been despicable, especially when I claim to follow Jesus, who said "You shall love the Lord your God.. and you shall love your neighbor as yourself. All of the Law and the prophets is summed up in this."

Why Not Sinning Is Not the Point

2010-08-17T11:46:00.000-07:00

I've been sick. Sitting on a couch in Oregon when I could be hiking, going to the beach, or just walking around for that matter. Instead I've sat around watching countless hours of the History Channel.

My life hasn't been all that sinful lately in the ways it usually is. I've been too tired and incapacitated.

Incapacitated is a good word.

I was talking to a friend who is going through a lot right now. His sin is weighing on him. Sometimes it gets overwhelming. Sometimes we wonder whether he can ever beat it or not. Sometimes I think that beating it isn't the point.

My friend and I have been in the same place lately. Distant from God. Whether it was by running away or just getting distracted, it has the same result.

I think there are a lot of people who have decided to follow Jesus that are pretty focused on not doing the sinful stuff. I appreciate the passion, but I think a lot of people think of Christians as people who are trying not to do certain things as opposed to being people who are in love with Jesus. There's a fundamental difference.

There are a lot of polite people who are pretty moral. God has worked his character into everyone, so it doesn't surprise me much. But Jesus asks people to follow him, have relationship with him. If God wanted polite, moral people, he would have sent more rules, not his Son.

Why I Chose to Hike the Andes Mountains

2010-07-13T12:01:00.000-07:00

I'm getting married this weekend. Still not sure what to think of it. Sometimes I'm excited, other times I'm scared. A lot of times I'm just weirded out.

Usually I'm a visionary guy. I like to plan, rearrange future events in my mind over and over till they fit just right, then throw some gas and a match on the whole thing and start over again. I'm learning that my ability to do this relies largely on a similar event I can use as a reference. I've not yet had sex, I've never had to live with one person day after day (other than family) for more than a months time, I've never had to continually share a bed with someone, and I've never felt the pressure of someone else's well being so closely connected to my decisions. As a result, everything after Saturday 7pm (when the wedding starts) is a black abyss that my mind cannot comprehend.

I suppose I've been given glimpses by other married people.

"Oh boy, you sure you want to do this?"

"Hey, marriage is great!"

"Marriage is an institution, I would rather not be institutionalized."

"After the first night on our honeymoon I remember thinking. I'm hungry."

My landlord is quite experienced at marriage, he has had five. He said congratulations (sort of) and asked if my air conditioning still worked fine.

I have this vague idea that the first couple of weeks will be great, then at some point someone will get cabin fever and mutiny. Eventually our selfishness will need to be tried and hanged, then it will start all over again.

I had a friend say that marriage will show you just how selfish you are... really fast.

I'm sure he's right. I know that's not why God made up the idea of marriage, he did after all make us as not so selfish people, but I bet he likes it when we more deeply realize, "wow, I cause problems when I try to get my own way."

I'm looking forward to marriage. Sort of in the way that I looked forward to hiking the Andes in Bolivia. At first there was this sense of awe and infatuation that one gets when he tells people that he will be hiking the Andes mountains. As you begin there is this sense of accomplishment that yes you will be hiking the Andes mountains. Three hours into the ordeal you say to yourself, why did I ever want to hike the Andes mountains? Then you step over a ridge, see a mountain lake, run to it, sit on the rocks as the sun sets over the Andes mountains and think, this is why I hiked the Andes mountains. Had I sat at my house in Cochabamba, I would not have endured pain, nor would I have enjoyed one of the greatest memories of my life.

So here's my prediction. Lots of selfishness and difficulties as I try to live with another messy human being, highlighted by some of the greatest joys with the deepest human relationship I'll ever have. Maybe some day we'll go hike the Andes mountains together.

I Love You Courtney, I'm looking forward to sharing the rest of my life with you!

A Snapshot

2010-07-08T10:30:00.001-07:00

The limitations of pictures depress me. Someone will come back from a trip to Tibet, show you a picture of Everest, then expect you to be overwhelmed with the immensity of their 4x6 piece of paper with ink on it. If this really worked, no one would need to go vacation in Tibet anymore. I am equally depressed when I look at pictures from my past, that no longer have their emotional power. The memories have faded, so the picture is now just an image.

I feel frustrated trying to relay my relationship with God to others. I want them to understand how awesome the snapshot I'm showing them is. "Isn't Jesus so cool!" Sorry, cool is a trite way to describe the most significant part of my existence.

"Yea, Jason. That's a nice picture. Very neat."

Sometimes when people think the picture is insignificant, that means the thing itself is too.

Pictures do have the ability to peak peoples interest. Like when I drove through Nebraska. I had seen pictures of Chimney Rock and Scotts bluff. They didn't seem all that exciting, but I was within thirty minutes anyway, why not check them out? The pictures weren't powerful, but sitting there, looking across Scotts bluff, the rest of the plain standing in contrast to the rocks, it was surreal. I definitely want to go back. The picture gave me a push to go see what I was already close to.

I'm grateful that following Jesus isn't about my perfection. for reasons I won't say, I am quite aware of my potential to be a disgusting person. I feel like one of those pictures where someone stuck their thumb halfway over the lens.

If my relationship with God were a picture, I would hope it looks something like a child stained in mud, being hugged by his father unashamedly.

In Control?

2010-02-21T16:28:00.001-08:00

I'm listening to the rain. It's drawing my mind back to days where I actually took time to stop and listen to it.

Once in Virginia I was leaned up against a white wooden fence watching a thunderhead press up against the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was July 3rd. I just sat there, gazing at the dark cloud lined in a thin grayish white steam, ignoring one of the nursing home resident's pleas for me to come back inside.

As I stood there, I checking to make sure I was shorter than and far enough from the surrounding trees to avoid being struck, looking back just in time to see a lightning bolt cut a jagged path. I watched it connect with a grove of trees. There was a strange anticipating silence. Then, faintly, I heard the sound of a breaking branch, followed by one of the the loudest waves of sound and emotion I had felt in a long time. My body moved from a sense of serene calm to immense fear as the wall hit me.

Aside from the thought that I might mess my pants, I felt small.

In a moment this lightning strike changed my perspective on existence and the universe. Whatever I planned to do could straightway be checked by some random act of nature's amoral violence.

I have some friends who lost their mother this way. She was walking back to the house with a trash can when on a clear day. Her life ended in a flash. This woman had cooked me a meal two months prior.

We tend to think we control our circumstance, like we have things figured out. Even if we feel limited, we at least feel in control of our immediate surroundings. It turns out even our mastery of taking out the trash is subject to something frighteningly more powerful than we are.

Finding Beauty

2009-07-28T09:08:00.001-07:00

I am eating lunch at the brew, noticing styles in clothing. There are at least five different fashion statements in this room: white trash wife beater tucked into shorts; conservative Mennonite with bonnet covering; fifty five year old wearing a flowery blouse and some added youthful flair of a ankle bracelet; ex-Amish trying to disguise himself as a normal Englishman; and a guy in a casual t-shirt and cargo shorts.

I myself am wearing a grey hat -'scene' is the style I'm told- a simple logo t-shirt, cargo shorts and sandals. I obviously selected my clothes for 'appeal' more than function -I am after all wearing a hat inside.

Last summer I wore the same pants (don't worry I washed them) for six weeks... no one noticed. Do people really care as much as we think they do? Is it really worth $150 a month for me to feel better about my image, so that people I don't even want to talk to will notice me more? For the record I don't spend $150 a month on clothing. I don't think I've spent $150 in the past year.

I'm not against 'dressing up' or wanting to have neat clothing, or even 'fashionable' clothing; but how much time do we really spend obsessing about our image externally as opposed to our internal image. I know very beautiful people who are royal... jerks...

Some of the most beautiful people I know aren't too fashionable. They put on things like compassion, patience, love, and usually common sense. They aren't too full of themselves that they have to avoid going out of the house without first taking a half hour to make themselves 'acceptable.'

Like I said, it's fine to care about what you wear, but care more about who you really are, not what other people see on the outside.

The Things You Don't Regret A Month From Now

2009-07-22T10:35:00.000-07:00

Today started at 4am, then 4:07am At 4:14am I stopped hitting snooze. My body hated me for being awake. Murray, my little pug, didn't even want to get out of bed yet.

Why did I not get to bed earlier last night?

Oh yea, friendships. Leo came over and we chatted, shared struggles, had a drink, laughed together, talked about Jesus. Courtney joined us, then Jordan. After a while Arlen came from accross the street. We sat on the porch till midnight, talking about faith and spontanious human combustion.

At one point Leonard said, "I better get to bed or I'm going to regret this in the morning." My reply was, "Yes, but will you regret it a month from now."

Sometimes what hurts a bit now, becomes a thing of beauty with time.

Confessions of a Latte Club Card: It Is Not Just Time That Heals All Wounds

2009-07-18T10:40:00.001-07:00

I'm sipping on my iced cappuccino waiting for a youtube video of Donald Miller to load. A couple just walked in the door. The girl looks normal enough, the guy has hair that resembles a matted rat with dreadlocks. A woman in her fifties, who is trying to dress like she is thirty two, keeps cupping her hand to the window pane in the door looking for someone. A man who I assume is her husband, whom I also assume she is looking for, comes up behind her and taps her on the shoulder. She just about head buts the door in surprise, then laughs as she realizes it was him. Some music resembling Aretha Franklin drones in the background. Just another day at the Electric Brew. If your ever in Downtown Goshen, Indiana I recommend their chai, but only if Michelle is working. She makes a good chai.

There is a ragged tan business card in my wallet with little holes punched all along the side. I am one little coffee cup punch away from a free mixed drink of some sort. I've been working on this card for a while.

I need to start taking notes on my card, just a line or two. Something to record what happened with that cup of coffee. I really wish I would have thought of this from the beginning. This card has seen a lot.

Last night my card was present for something beautiful. Three friends, laughing at Leonard's house while watching Sabrina. It may never happen again, I don't know; but it was beautiful. I'm not really going to describe why other than this: It represented healing in something previously broken.

It takes a lot of punched holes in a Latte Club Card to bring healing. Some require tears, others anger, others forgiveness, most of them confusion, all of them prayer.

No friendship broken, no marriage hurting, no wound is beyond healing. If we find the humility. Many passionately pray for physical healing, but lack the fervor in praying for broken hearts or arthritic compassion that have plagued them and others for years. In some sense, physical healing is easier. Physical healing brings wholeness without me needing to confront my selfishness, or admit that I was wrong. Physical healing is easy to talk about "God healed my arthritis!" but to say the same about relational healing, even my rejoicing points out that I was dysfunctional.

C.S. Lewis said that no one can love in any form without being hurt. Because of death, because of selfishness, because of sin I will at some point be let down in some way by the ones I love. I know that someday if I marry, I or my spouse will day, causing pain, yet I invest in love.

Invest in Love today, even towards those who may now be your enemies, even though they may not respond to that love. Jesus said "as much as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone." Committed love may not always see the healing result, but without it there is no chance.

There is no greater representation of the heart of God than healed relationships. The more you experience them, the more you experience the heart of the Father.

Murray

2009-07-15T11:41:00.000-07:00

I got a dog. He's a pug. The kind that is so horrendous that you can't help but find it adorable. One of the great oxymoron's of the universe. God has a sense of humor.

Murray's first day went well. He mostly sniffed around the house and gathered information regarding his new surroundings.

Pugs are co-dependent, they thrive on being around people. If I am in the living room, Murray is in the living room. This morning when I took a shower, he just sat there and stared at the shower curtain, I know because I checked.... several times. I felt bad so I sang him a song. Murray peed on the carpet, right in front of me, so I put him in the kitchen while I practiced guitar. When I went to check on him he went nuts because he had missed me so much. I'm beginning to feel suffocated, this dog is always there, watching me. Get a freakin life you mut!

I really do like the dog, and things are less lonely in the morning at my place. It's fun to watch him be a dog. I'm over dramatizing about my suffocation, though I strangely feel like this furry monstrosity is invading my personal space.

I need to be more like Murray, a little more... a lot more dependent on being around God all the freaking time. Shouldn't I go nuts with excitement when God comes around after being gone (or at least my feeling like he's been gone) for a while. I'm glad God doesn't feel suffocated by my presence.

I'm really not a huge fan of cute little stories that illustrate a cute little truth about a cute little God, I hope this isn't one of those.

Prayer for the day: Dad, make me like a little co-dependent butt ugly pug who stares at the shower curtain.

Taking Another Look at Taking Another Look at Community

2009-07-06T08:27:00.000-07:00

When I last wrote about "Taking Another Look at Community," which was meant to be an inward reflection on some personal visions, I was surprised to get more feedback than I expected. So I think I'll write a little more about the subject... as if I'm some expert.

Community can obviously be taken in many different forms, you have Hutterites, Bruderhof, the late great Amana Colonies, New Monasticism, the Franciscan Fraternity of Little Brothers, Reba Place Church in Chicago has an apartment complex, the infamous Shane Claiborne lives in a derelict neighborhood with other believers at the Potter Street Community. Communal living exists in as many ways as the imagination can create it. For my purposes I'm going to define it as: Maintaining some sort of geographical proximity that makes possible a sharing of time, resources, and burdens on an even hourly basis.

Community is counter cultural, it is often perceived as cultish and strange. North American culture is quite individualistic and paranoid of anything that resembles communism or socialism in any way, keep your hands off what is mine and I'll keep my hands off of what is yours seems to be the name of the game. Community says, you have need, and I have, let me give to you. Community is voluntary interdependence made possible only by Jesus creating a servants heart in his followers.

Community maximizes the greatest aspect of our existence and faith. Relationship. In Community I share life, both normal and significant, with believers who I am committed to and who are committed to me, to a greater degree. This level of commitment that sets aside significant time and personal preference to grow together is also counter cultural (at least in my experience), creating a safety much like healthy family relationships or marriages, where the deep commitment allows for greater vulnerability.

Community consolidates resources in order to direct more time and energy towards the greatest commandment "Love the lord with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. Love your neighbor as yourself." It is quite frankly, cheaper to live together. Less time has to be directed toward a 'career,' there are greater margins in our life to direct towards kingdom building relationships. This too is counter cultural to the rat race of Western Society.

From everything I've read and thought about, and what aspects of community I have experienced, I've learned this: Community is probably a lot more difficult than I realize. It was hard living with family, I get tired of most people after a weeks time. I'm selfish, community will expose that. On the flip side, I believe that we can learn to live counter culturally in community, and that even though it is strange it can bring a new beauty to the darkness that surrounds it. Jesus was weird, he said strange things, things that made it difficult for people to follow him, yet the drunks, tax collectors, and prostitutes flocked to him like piranhas to a piece of bloody meat.

I realize that most of my thoughts are from visions in my mind, not necessarily realities and experiences. I hope that changes soon.

Taking Another Look at Community

2009-06-16T12:13:00.000-07:00

I'm talking with someone about living in community again. Dreaming, hoping, but with a sense of reservation. I'm trying to protect myself.

I feel like I'm trying to ask a girl out for the third time. I almost expect the rejection.

I don't claim to know a lot about community, except for the fact that it's hard to make a cultural shift like that happen. There aren't that many people around me who want to make a shift like that, and if they do they have other obstacles like a house payment or such that keeps them from realizing that shift that this point in their life.

I press on with reserved ecstasy.

Even if this time doesn't work out community still remains as the filter for most of my thoughts and conversations about the Kingdom of God.

I'm longing to start the day with believers, to have genuine relationships with unbelievers, to endure the hardships of life, to find the beauty of it, and to share it with a close circle in deep communion as we follow King Jesus.

I'm a pervert, so I need accountability... real accountability.

I'm arrogant, so I need humbling relationships.

I'm selfish, so I need to continually serve.

I'm prone to wander, so I need spurring on... and not just once or twice a week while I politely present prayer requests about enduring a toe fungus problem (though that may be too vulnerable).

I'm scared of moving beyond my home to the dying world beyond, so I need others to be scared with me.

I don't want to 'catch a trend', I was thinking about community a couple years before Claiborne wrote his book. I just want deep, vibrant, committed, communal, relationships in contrast to the actual trend of relationships that emphasize self-serving, emotional reservation, maintaining individuality, and committing while things go well. I don't want a hokey religion, or structured traditions, I want life bringing relationships that offer hope and beauty, to an ugly dying world, through the messiah.

Why does what is healthy have to be so counter cultural.

I'm back... is anyone there?

2009-05-20T10:43:00.000-07:00

I suppose I'm not even sure how many people followed my blog before, I only knew of a couple, but I spose they've all moved on to greener pastures in my absence. Cha, I act like I have some sort of a following here. Anywho, whether you checked this baby out before, or you stumbled upon it, I'm back... I hope.

It's hard for me to write when I'm emotionally dysfunctional, or at least more dysfunctional than usual. I was on the road for Rosedale Bible College for a few months, travelling all over the place. I think I put about 15,000+ miles on since I went home to Oregon for Christmas back in December. Host families' living rooms & rooms of 20 somethings off at college are not good environments to write in. I need either something familiar, or exotic and extraordinary.

For my triumphant return I would like to humble myself by talking about a topic I know very little about. Gardening. Courtney and I planted a garden, we're sort of flying blind. I think we both expect that sometime next week our weed free garden will produce perfect plants, including some we didn't even expect. I'm enjoying the utopian delusion for now.

Whether or not our wildest gardening dreams come to pass, I already consider this garden a success. It has produced relationships that have enriched my life and hopefully spreads the kingdom of God. Forgive me for throwing out aspects of my dating relationship all over the web, but a couple of weeks ago Courtney and I were having a little misunderstanding. She went to work on the garden a bit while I stayed on my porch and thought about life. While she was there, the neighbor brought by some chicken wire for us to put around our garden to fend off the millions of illegitimate children of bugs bunny. He invited the two of us over that night to sit around the fire and catch some fish out of the millrace.

After settling our little dispute we took them up on the offer. There was a small crowd gathered when we arrived. There was Steve, an electrician in his fifties with a deep love of good southern moonshine, his daughter Carrie and her boyfriend Aaron, the neighbor Jeremy and his wife Nicole, and their daughter Stevie (yes their daughter Stevie). For the last few years they have spend their weekends with each other, laughing, drinking cheap beer, fishing, swapping stories, and enjoying more community than many Christians have.

We haven't talked about anything serious, but after showing up two weeks in a row, I feel like I'm one of the gang. Courtney and I were out working on the garden yesterday. Steve came up and started chatting with us, he let me use his shovel, gave me some gardening tips, we talked about his apple trees. After a bit, Nicole and Stevie came over and started chatting as well, they gave us some tomato plant starts and some cups to transplant them in. They have accepted us.

The first thing Steve said to us (after having a few Milwaukee's Bests) was "Make yourself at home, if someone ever needs to sleep something off underneath the apple tree, it wouldn't be the first time, and no one will ask any questions." Sure it wasn't exactly a Christian greeting of hospitality, but I liked it. If you need to puke in my yard, it's ok I still accept you.

We'll see how things go in the future, I hope and pray for opportunities to love them like Christ loved them, and hopefully I'll have opportunity to share the message of the good news that the maker of the universe loves us all immensely, even if we're sleeping something off under an apple tree.

Who says life has to be an organized narrative.

2009-02-28T11:30:00.000-08:00

While God has everything figured out. Our side of the sky does not seem so organized. Any framework on our part that claims "God is working exactly in this way in my life" is largely a guess.

I had breakfast with a friend this morning at a French restaurant. We talked about being who we really are in front of everyone and experiencing freedom in Jesus. It made me want a glass of chilled Zinfandel to complement my "au du ja jambon" -I'm sure I butchered that French which is supposed to mean ham cheese sandwhich thingy.

It's hard talking to people about a Bible College. Sometimes it makes me feel like I'm selling Jesus or something, then I remember it's a non-profit deal and the professors there make about as much as an overtime worker at McDonalds... then I don't feel bad anymore.

God made creation beautiful. The beach here in Sarasota is wonderful. I'm sure before we paved it all over it was a lot prettier. It also had a lot more mosquitos. I still wonder why God created those little buggers. I was enjoying the sand and surf while reading Surprised By Hope by N.T. Wright and thinking about what the recreation would look like in Florida; three twenty something guys nearby were trying to impress their bikini-clad neighbors on the beach with loud obnoxious stories about all that "crazy shit" that they were doing last night. I hope the re-creation includes silence.

I promise I'm not shouvanistic but I heard that women aren't going to be in heaven (and apparently neither will these guys) because in Revelation John says that there was a half hour of silence in heaven.... don't make a big deal out of it, just laugh, it's funny. Don't worry Courtney, I like it when you talk.

I have to go back to Ohio tomorrow. I will probably spend the afternoon with Matt, Chris, Dan, Rachel, Libby, and some random person who decided to show up. I like those guys. Random theology, spirituality, polotics, and personal issues are constantly mingled with sci-fi and various eras of history.

I bought a record player a couple of weeks back. It is sitting in the trailer in Ohio. If I could completely alter my situation right now I would be sitting on a beach with Courtney listening to Bob Dylan The Freewheelin on that record player and drinking a White Russian.... extra milk.

The band Mute Math describes my life well. "You are reaching, something that is beating, I can't believe I never noticed my heart before... till I noticed you did." Jesus noticed my heart and loved it, and still does.

Wow. My life is pretty good. Even if I'm not sure how it all fits together.

4 Minutes

2009-02-15T15:02:00.000-08:00

What can I do with 4 minutes. Well, pretty much everything that I neglect to do on a regular basis that I absolutely love doing. Four minutes to listen to a good song. Four minutes to play my guitar. Four minutes to read at least a small piece of creative writing.

This is obviously my first update I've done in a long time. It is unfortunate, I love to paint with words, yet I never seem to find the time.

I'm sure I do the same with the kingdom of God. How much time would it really take for me to meaningfully love someone? Four minutes could get the job done. I don't think I'll ever 'find' the time to do all the things I love, but I know I can make the time. Make the time to laugh, love, read, write, and play guitar, maybe write my lovely girlfriend a letter.

Find the time to take in life as God meant it to be taken in. He made it for you and I to enjoy, so lets fulfill some of his purposes.

Whoops, I'm a minute over.

Happy New Year... But For Who?

2008-12-31T21:13:00.001-08:00

This is supposed to be a time of celebration... I feel sick. Not literally, in my heart.

I'm in Wyoming recieving the hospitality of people I've never met before. I'm finishing day two of a four day journey from Albany, Oregon to Goshen, Indiana. Happy New years to me. I'll be asleep by the time 2009 passes over my head.

So why do I feel sick?

I asked God for compassion today.

My love is so small, my compassion so petty.

There was a party tonight somewhere in the world, someone was not invited to that party. It wasn't that that someone was forgotten, it was just agreed upon that he wouldn't be invited. He's socially awkward. A nuisance. Difficult to be around. He might be interested in dating one of the normal single girls.

I felt compassion for him and called him. He was just leaving some church thing at 11.

"Where you goin now Travis? Gonna stay up for New Years?"

"Yea I might stay up. I'm gonna go home."

"No big party somewhere?" I'm hoping he doesn't ask if anything is going on. Though I'm in Wyoming and can plead ignorance... which would be a lie.

"Na, I guess not."

By this time I decide since I'm on a back road I've never been on before at 9:30 with 40mph gusts pushing my car everywhere, I should probably go.

Travis reminds me that God will take care of me in the wind. He made all the stars and named them after all.

I understand compassion a bit better tonight, but it's surrounded by a mess of my bitterness towards those who knowingly let Travis stay home alone tonight. It's got this element of self-righteousness that makes me want to think that I'm doing better than them by calling him. I can honestly say I called him out of pure compassion, it was just all the after the call stuff that got.... disgusting.

So which is worse. My lack of compassion or theirs... I don't think there's a difference. Lack of compassion is lack of compassion. Jesus doesn't ask me to have compassion on just a certain demographic, He calls me to have complete compassion. Jesus was called the Son of Compassion.

This little post describes a stew of human selfishness. Mine. Others'. Father teach us to have unbridled compassion, not just on those who we feel deserve it. Sometimes its easier to have compassion on the opressed rather than the opressor; but I have played the role of opressor many times before... many times before. You had compassion on me... teach me to extend that compassion to others.

Thoughts from Philippians 2

Do not look out for your own interests, but also for the interests of others.

Consider one another as more important than yourself.

Have this attitude in yourself which was also in Christ Jesus. The one who left perfect social interaction and comfort to come live with dysfunctional, awkward, selfish people. (My paraphrase of course).

Father give us compassion.

Do I Pray for Help or for God?

2008-12-24T07:06:00.001-08:00

I tense up just a bit as I look out the window and fail to see anything but snow speeding by beneath us. The pilot has already placed us about twenty feet off the ground. I start thinking crazy things, like what happened in Colorado recently, then remember that it's more likely to die by getting shot than it is to die in a plane crash. I then remember that I got shot at a couple weeks ago by a hunter. I also remember it's more likely to get struck by lightening... I rest reassured that the odds are on my side. The plane lands properly, in spite of my negative thoughts. Thank goodness I am not a Scientologist, otherwise my pessimism would destroy the world. We start rolling towards the gate as the little cigarette light blinks off then on with a ding, as the stewardesses inform us that we can now use portable electronic devices. I bring my little phone to life. My next few minutes will involve reconnecting with the world after taking part in the miracle of human flight. The text message that comes as I turn on my phone tells me that I have a flight scheduled for 3:05 pm to Eugene.

At first I sort of enjoy the idea of flying to Eugene rather than being stuck in Portland Airport over the holidays. This enjoyment is soon replaced by panic when I realize that it is 2:00pm and I'm still sitting in the plane. I strike to action, forgetting the main reason I turned on my phone was to see if Courtney sent any flirtatious messages while I was airborne.

In case you have never travelled before, there are an entire list of items that make this accomplishment rather impossible. I have one hour to accomplish the following:

1) Get off of the plane and to the baggage claim 20 min

2) Get bags 20 min

3) Check in again for my newly purchased flight 20 min

4) Pass through security 20 min

5) Get to my departure gate 5 min

So that is 85 minutes. At a smaller airport like PDX or Columbus on an early morning flight it probably takes me about 45 minutes. The problem is that ice and snow are covering Portland right now. PDX was opening and closing all day, chains are mandatory (in the city), garbage pickup has stopped, and lo and behold even the "through snow through sleet" postal service is shutting its doors. As consequence to all of this there are tons of people trapped in the airport who have been waiting hours and even days to get a flight to anywhere else. I just got off the plane. By the time I get my bags and get in line at the ticket counter it's already 2:30 and the line is out and around the corner filled with people who have already been waiting for hours. This is where nothing short of an undeserved miracle begins.

On the fringes of the chaos I see an Alaskan Airlines employee with a list that I knew probably contained answers, like how long will I be stuck in this airport. I approached her and explained my situation, simply wondering if there was any way I would be able to make my flight at 3:05.

"What time is it?" She asked.

"2:35" I said, glancing at my phone.

"Come with me." She whisked me to the fringes of the crowd without saying a word. At the end of Alaskan Airlines ticket counter was a slender old woman, I'm sure at one point she was one of those smokin young stewardesses for TWA, the kind of girl that is only mythological now (at least in my flying experiences). Thousands of flights, however, had turned smooth features into wrinkles.

I tried to thank the other worker for her help the angel was already off to create another miracle on 34th street... or at least at baggage claim.

The gal at the counter asked for my I.D. As she looked at my flight time she printed my boarding pass and sent me on my way with a speed that I did not know was ever possible at an airport. I appreciated that one of the flight stopping hurdles was over with expediency I never knew possible; but I was still calling my mother to let them know how frustrated I was that they had bought me a ticket without consulting me, and that I was going to miss it anyways.

The security line was average, but still enough to keep me from reaching my flight (which I had learned from the old stewardess that it was boarding). I used my new found information to ask my way up the security line. Everyone was so gracious. No one hesitated to tell me to move on except for the Hispanic family that couldn't understand what I was saying, but let me by anyway. Hurdle number two. I still thought I was going to miss my flight.

I hate running in airports, in 90% of circumstances a brisk, unpanicked, walk is sufficient. It drives me crazy travelling with people who are freaking out all the time. This one freaked out even me, I ran through the airport. The following conversation with God is the heart of what I'm writing about.

"I can't ask God for this, that's stupid. But why not, why not just ask him to hold the plane. Hey God you can do something about this right?" I started thinking about the way I was feeling towards my brother and mother who had put me in this situation. I was blindingly bitter and ignored the fact that they were trying to help. I forgot about my flight and whether or not I was going to make it, I honestly didn't care. I had friends who I could stay with in Portland, it wouldn't be the end of the world, I would adapt to my new situation; but my bitterness. "God I'm thinking you care more about this bitterness than you do my flight." I don't remember praying anything beyond that, I couldn't concentrate enough. In this sort of haze I finally made it after running to the opposite side of the airport with a pack on my back and a full size suitcase behind me. I heard "Last boarding call for flight 4021... last boarding call for flight 4021" I made it.

I have a friend that asked us to pray about her job, she really liked it and did a good job and felt like God had opened up the door for her to be there in the first place. I believe her. I just felt weird about how we went about it. It felt like the idea was that we were battling some sort of evil, praying that a certain event would happen. I love this gal and I know she has a huge impact on the lives of students there. I do this same thing all the time too. Me missing my flight was evil and my responsibility in prayer was to pray against that evil it seemed. The good Christian thing to do would be to call up all my friends and have them pray that I make my flight, so that I can be a bit more comfortable over the next few days.

+++

I could totally see Jesus stepping into the situation (He did actually but I'm thinking physical Jesus incarnate). I would be freaking out and asking him to get my flight held. "Jesus I totally have faith in you, can you take care of this... come on... it's gonna be a bummer stuck here."

"Do not worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow will worry about itself."

This is where I would start to get pissed off, first of all because I already knew that was in the Bible, and second because I was ignoring it.

Jesus then crawls up on a chair right in the middle of the airport and says "Beware of bitterness. You all travel to your homes to spend time with relatives that you don't want to talk to, why do you keep up such formalities and avoid healing wounds."

The words penetrate my heart. I don't care about the flight anymore. Jesus seemed indifferent about it from the beginning.

Jesus gets off the chair and we start walking towards my gate. I'm still not thinking about the flight. "I'm a jerk huh?"

"There is grace. I love you. I know you love your family. All is forgiven."

We arrive at the gate when I snap back into reality. "Are you two on flight 4021?" The lady behind the counter looks suspiciously at Jesus on account that he is middle eastern.

"Yea that's us."

"Oh good, well we had a small delay, you guys made it not a moment too late."

Jesus smiles at me and says "I would rather have you stay here and share some hope with people; but I know you aren't ready for that yet. Don't worry, I still love you, let's get home."

+++

I think in the long run, whether I made it or not was moot. God's kingdom does not come in fixed flights, or continued employment, it comes in our hearts. God wants to heal families, cure our bitterness, make us patient and loving. I used to think that trusting God was believing that he would do whatever we wanted. I think now it's trusting that God knows what's going on, and knows what He's doing. I'm not all about New Year's resolutions; but I want to trust God more this year, go about doing His work with his peace reigning in my heart, whether He holds the flight nor not.

And this is how he taught them to pray

Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed by thy name.

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.

Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever.

Amen.

Any man can get a flight held. Only God can change the heart.

The God Who is Not me.

2008-12-17T21:05:00.000-08:00

I've been reading Donald Miller's Through Painted Deserts. Now I'm starting on Searching for God Knows What. Good stuff. I loved Blue Like Jazz when I read it a few months ago. Mostly I love the writing, but I love his honesty. It really lays bare the very human side of interacting with divinity. He described interacting with God as a dance in which we are continually getting our toes stepped on as we learn to dance with Him. He described his own bruised feet.

I was painting a house this week, some friends helped out. We got talking about my delusions of seeking divinity.

"So maybe I should start my own cult, you know, become a divinity and all that."
The girls didn't like that much "Yea you could be a natural Charlie Manson."
"So you guys wanna have a cool-aide party later?" I chuckle knivingly.
They challenge my comment "Umm I think that was Jim Jones...."
"No maybe that guy who thought Hale-bop was an alien spaceship."
"Whatever, just go pick up some cool-aide and a bottle of arsenic." I go back to painting. "Thus says the Jason."

Thank goodness I'm not God. I read this David Foster Wallace story about this guy who was in a mental institution. He went crazy after his sexual fantasy world became bigger than he was, he couldn't fit together the logic of the entire cosmos that demanded him to control every atom. So he went crazy.

The more I've been walking with God the less understandable He has become. At one time my God was simple, in a box. At some point along the journey He stepped outside of my box, to which I responded with a bigger box, then another step, and a bigger box. I've come across all sorts of "This is God" or "If you do this then God will do this." God is good, God is wrathful, God is just, God is unchanging, God changes his mind?, God is one, God is three, God tells the Israelites to kill men women and children in Canaan, God tells his followers to love even their enemy, God cannot tolerate sin, God is tolerating sin for a time, God is merciful, God allows suffering. He's really a confusing mess really... to us. The confusion doesn't scare me, I'm not sure why. I just trust Him, I just trust that he is good. I trust Him when He says that if I accept His Son who comes on behalf of Him, and who is Him, if I walk with Him, get to know Him, I am His child, his little kid.

He is the one that holds it all together. He's the one who set up the plan of salvation. No matter how I end up looking at things, they are still his plans that will be carried out in His will. I don't have to figure out His plans, He just wants me to relate to Him and share the love and grace He gives to me with those around me. I don't have to 'prove' God exists or that He is good. I can tell them, but in the end He's the one whose gotta do the convincing in the hearts, and they have to recieve it. If God is an intellectual enterprise, then too bad for all the mentally handicapped, or uneducated, or illiterate, cause they aren't going to get all the close to God's heart right? In the end what will Jesus say? Well to some who did all sorts of signs and had plenty of knowledge He said "Depart from me I never knew you." It's about relationship with this way bigger than us, complex to a frustrating degree, unlimited, divine being. To say we are an ant farm to the human is an insult to how beyond us the maker of this material world is.

God be bigger than me, cause if you can fit in my box, you are no God at all. Teach me to trust you, experience or not, feeling or not, understanding or not. Thank you for the life you have given. Thank you for guitar, Delta Blues, Piano conciertos, molassas cookies, literature, and blazing sunsets. Oh and beautiful women... ok just one beautiful woman. Thank you for the realization of your existance, thank you for the gift of being able to trust you. Thank you for walking with me, and teaching me to dance.

Cat Furniture and Social Retards

2008-12-07T13:15:00.000-08:00

Travis makes cat furniture. Big cat furniture with varying elevations for the kitty to romp on with his little paws. He makes small cat furniture, just a basic scratching post for your conservative Mennonite cats who practice simplicity. Travis makes cat furniture.

Travis drives a big blue Ford truck that get's 30 mpg. He puts oil in the Diesel to make it last longer. It's a 7.2 liter that they use in dump trucks. If a Bradley Fighting Vehicle ran it over it wouldn't bust it.

Travis has a kerosene heater he just bought for his shop. It's fuel injected. It burns three gallons of Kerosene an hour; but he doesn't need to run it more than a half hour a day. It works pretty good to keep him warm while he's working on cat furniture. Before it cost him $200 a month with an electric heater.

Travis is awkward. I'm a jerk so if I'm honest I would say he is socially retarded.** He's a child of God, he is beautiful to the Father, he is loved by the Father. I'm not God, I'm not Jesus; as a result I tend to be really selfish, a jerk really.

Travis called the church looking for a singles group. They gave him my number. I could tell by his voice that he was socially retarded; and he wanted to know if there were single girls in the group... oh geez. I figured I couldn't get away with a clean conscience without inviting him to something, so I invited him on to hang out with us on Sunday. He hit on my now girlfriend, and was as I predicted socially retarded. I found out very quickly that he makes cat furniture.

It's been a few weeks, he's still socially retarded. I've heard so many times about what kind of carpet he uses for his cat furniture. I know his truck better than I know my own -now wrecked- car. It is so ridiculously draining talking with this guy. I don't even know what to say. Today he said "Did you know Wal-mart employs a million people around the world? I'd have to make a lot of cat furniture to have that many employees!"

I was drastically curious "What brought that to mind Travis?"

He shrugged "I don't know, just thinkin."

I have my arm around my lovely girlfriend who by this time has escaped the torture by falling asleep. Travis makes me want to have a Thyroid problem just like her. Sleep, sweet escape. I want to talk about deep stuff, fun stuff. I want to talk with my girlfriend for more than five minutes without hearing about freaking cat furniture! He draws you in, he just stares at you and won't let you get away from the conversation!

Travis.

Travis shows me how selfish I am. How disabled I am. I have such an inability to love. To have compassion. I know I'm trying, I know we're doing a ton just by continuing to invite him on Sundays. How does this line up with what the God of the Universe says to me?

From Philippians 2

Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others. Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

There's this site called failblog.org that puts up all this pictures of obvious failure by us stupid humans. My life on the site would be LOVE FAIL.

Jesus is God, quite familiar with divine conversation, perfect love, perfect selflessness, communion of the Trinity. He became man and hung out with a region full of social, spiritual retards. Peter... retard. Thomas... retard. All twelve disciples... retards. Read the gospels, read acts. They did amazing things... and they did stupid things.

The tenderness and mercy of Jesus blew right past their shortcomings, their undesireableness. God interacting with man on a daily basis.

Being around Travis will be a good thing for me. Hopefully he feels loved and recieves friendship from us. Beign around Travis drags me into the street naked; standing before God next to my mistress, selfishness. He shows me mercy; but calls me to leave my lust behind, my lust for myself, my passion for my own desires. I can talk all day of what is "emotionally healthy" for me, or "what I can stand" in relating to Travis. God have mercy on me. This selfish, prideful man.

**The mentally ill are a beautiful part of God's kingdom, I have heard stories of healing and love that have flowed from simple hearts that put me to shame. If you read the whole thing right you'll see that my distinctions of calling someone socially retarded are a selfish sinful human distinction. Retard is a dirogitory term only because in our selfishness we have deemed the mentally handicapped as something 'less' than us. My use of the word shows not only my willingnes to make Travis something 'less' in my mind; but also acknowledges that in some way I consider myself more viable than the mentally ill. May God have mercy on me.

A Goshen Winter Walk

2008-12-03T20:42:00.001-08:00

I wrecked my car last week. It's my own stupid fault, I picked up my cell after getting a text and rear ended someone. The only thing you need to know for this post is that I don't currently have a car.

So I was painting a house for some new acquaintances today trying to piece together a bit of cash in this jobless desert called Elkhart County. I was in a hurry to hitch a ride with Wilbur this morning that I forgot to get breakfast, or bring a lunch. So about 10a.m. I realize this. First I try to call Papa Johns. Too expensive, they won't deliver under $10 orders. So the unthinkable happens... I have to walk. I walk fifteen minutes across downtown Goshen to Subway, then fifteen minutes back.

It was actually kind of nice. Things were pretty toasty around here today (38 degrees, arg). I saw a couple of people, they smiled and said hello. I got exercise. I didn't have to pay the money for gas. I didn't have to worry about rear ending someone. I felt like my little trip to Subway was actually worth something. Good exercise, fresh air, and I'm a little bit tougher for dealing with the cold.

I understand that there are inconveniences to not having a car, but I'm loving the limitations, the forced simplicity of choice. I did really want to go see my girlfriend a bit, she's not feeling well, but she went to bed early anyways. I just feel like the pace of life is so much more relaxed when you don't have the option to go anywhere you want whenever you want.

To leap accross the chasm to spiritual application, dying to self is hard. I have choices everywhere. I liked how Rich Mullin's put it "The stuff of earth competes for the allegience that I owe only to the giver of all good things." This whole not having a car thing is making life slow down for me. It's an adjustment, but I like it. Sometimes we have to up the concentration and find God through the distractions; but why can't we adjust the pace of life so we can hear Him better? I want to quit asking God to speak through the noise, THAT I'M MAKING, and slow down enough to hear Him, and not just on Sunday afternoons when the Colts are barely pulling out another W in the 4th.

"Evil looks like business." -Mike Yacconelli

Dad, thank you for the car wreck.

Spiritual Gluttony

2008-12-02T05:54:00.000-08:00

I believe I'm suffering from spiritual gluttony. My spiritual addiction is catching up to me. The next high, the deeper walk.... for what? So I can sit on my butt some more.

It would be stupid to say that God hasn't worked through me, or that I haven't been doing any of his work; but the kinds of work I have been doing don't really cost me all that much.

So here I sit again "God why the hell don't I feel anything?!" I read, I pray, grasping at Him, air, anything. I feel nothing. Not sad, or in despair longing for Him, just nothing, blank, empty, gone, transparent. I'm emotionless enough as it is, I find myself enjoying emotional pain at times. When I hurt, I'm feeling something.

I want joy, I want simplicity in faith, I want laughter. These things come to those who throw themselves wholeheartedly into the kingdom. It's not so much God withholding Himself from us, He continues to infuse His presence into our selfish lives; but if we want to drown in Him then we need to jump in, not just stick our face under the water.

"He is not a tame Lion, but he is good." C.S. Lewis wrote of Aslan, his representation of Christ. My Jesus is not tame, not a house kitty; yet I expect him to come in and sit with me by the fire. Sometimes he does, other times he's out in the blistering cold, in the wind and snow, asking me to come outside in my bare feet. "Sorry, too cold, come inside so we can be close like you want." Of course then I get all pissed off when he stays out there "What, you don't love me?" What a putz, huh? You'd think he'd bite my selfish human head off, his failure to strike me dead is an example of His patience, love and compassion.

I guess I feel like the rich young ruler.

"Good Teacher what shall I do to inherit eternal life?"

"Why do you call me good? God is the only one who is really good. You know the commandments: Don't commit adultery, Don't murder, Don't steal, Don't lie, Honor your parents."

Before Jesus got out the rest he was cut off, "Oh I've done all that."

"You're missing one thing. Sell all your stuff, give it to the poor, flip your life upside down and take up the life I offer you, follow me and what I want you to do...How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God!"

I'm pretty sure I'm saved, but my desires or apathy still seem to supercede the will of my Father. I want all the trimmings; but none of the work.

May I lay down my life in order to find it.

Letting the Nutrients Get to the Blood

2008-11-29T09:15:00.000-08:00

When I drink water, when I eat food; sometimes it doesn't satisfy. I'm still hungry or still thirsty for more. I scoff at the nutritious food that was supposed to supply my body with energy. I expect some magical property to kick in as soon as the food hit's my tongue. I'm ridiculously impatient. What I want should happen, and it should happen now. Unfortunately, the food has to be prepared by the stomach to move through the intestines where all the nutrients are pulled from it. After that the nutrients are put into my blood system and transported all over my body to the organs and muscles that need it. It's a beautiful miracle; but still a continual process.

I heard from a friend that by the time you feel thirsty you're already dehydrated. Sometimes I wish I could eat a huge meal that would last me for a week, so I wouldn't have to worry about eating. It doesn't work that way. I get hungry, I get weak, I get thirsty. I get this way because I don't eat or don't drink; and since I've depleted my system I have to wait for the process to carry the nutrients to my extremities.

We have a spiritual digestive system. I want a now and right now type of God. Unfortunately for my spoiled selfish attitude it doesn't work that way... it's a process. Jesus said "Whoever drinks of the water I give him will never thirst again." I hate phrases like "We are hungry, we are hungry, we are hungry for more of you." We are spiritually gluttonous, why can't we simply abide in Him; feed daily on his word, drink daily from his well? A child does not grow because he strains to do so, he eats, he drinks, he plays, he learns, as a result he grows.

We had a little prayer meeting at the house this morning. It was only a couple days in advance, and it's the holiday weekend so people are out of town. There were just four of us. It was frustrating. I'm spiritually dehydrated. I haven't been drinking from the well, so I'm thirsty. So we spend two hours in prayer and the whole time I'm just frustrated, wondering what the hell I'm doing. I feel stupid, I feel nothing, and God apparently does not want to listen. I'm expecting the water to make me feel healthy and nourished as soon as it hits my tongue. Everyone leaves, I call my girlfriend and rant to her about how God apparently does not like to be near to me, I go get some literal water from the faucet cause I have a headache from physical dehydration.

Rich Mullins is playing on the computer "If I stand let me stand on the promise that you will pull me through, and if I can't let me fall on the grace that first brought me to you." I start to feel the effects of the process, I feel peace, love, strength in my spiritual bones. The gallons of water I had been chugging are finally making their way to the thirsty spiritual muscles and organs.

The first three months I was here in Goshen I was doing pretty good about praying... alot (at least for me); I was spending an hour a day, three or four times a week, in prayer. The prayer was always frustrating, boring, difficult; half the time was spent saying "God this is boring. Where are you?" The first week was annoying and difficult, and I felt like it didn't matter; but then another week went by, and another, and another. I felt life growing inside of me, a deep strength, a desire for righteousness. The times of prayer were still frustrating, annoying, and generally boring. I had to be in a dark room so that I wouldn't get distracted; but with a candle lit so I wouldn't let my mind wander in the darkness. I stopped cause I got distracted, the next three months were pretty rough spiritually, I was dehydrated.

I need to drink deep, and drink daily; not only when I am thirsty. I must be patient, it takes time for life to infuse dead bones.

Drink deep from the river, and drink daily.
The need my not be urgent, and there may be the assurance of water all round.
But what is the use of the running stream if we don't drink from it.
It is beautiful to look at, it is pleasant to hear.
But if it simply flows by, the observer will whither and die.

Drink deep from the water, and drink daily.
Drink before you thirst, drink even when it seems impractical or repetitions, commonplace even.
The water is life.

The "Cost" of Discipleship: Doing the Math

2008-11-26T06:55:00.000-08:00

I want to begin with a disclaimer: THIS IS NOT A RANT AGAINST STARBUCKS. If you feel like I'm doing that, then you miss the point.

I honestly don't know much about Starbucks, though I've heard they strive (or at least advertise to) to give fair prices to coffee growers around the world. Once again, this has nothing to do with that. Though their new campaign has sparked my thoughts today.

Join us as we count down to the launch of (STARBUCKS) RED. Starting November 27, every time you buy a special (STARBUCKS) RED product, a contribution will be made to the Global Fund, to help save lives in Africa. It’s all part of our commitment to give back to the communities where we do business, which is a key component of Starbucks™ Shared Planet™.

The above paragraph is from the Starbucks website. Sounds like a good deal. I'm glad their being generous with a part of their profits. Why again does this make me upset?

I first heard about this little event when it popped up as a Facebook event. 65,000 were attending so far according to the event page. I did a little math. Starbucks is giving 5 cents per hand made drink to the Global Fund. Multiply that by the 65,000 or so Facebookers attending and you get around $3250. Wow, what a noble thing! We gave all that money to help sick, starving, uneducated people in Africa!

What if those 65,000 people gave up their coffee for a day and gave that money directly to the Global Fund themselves (For Canadians: only go to Tim Horton's two times a day instead of six)? Assuming that the American people are very thrifty right now because of the downturn I'll give the benefit of the doubt and say $3 a drink.

65,000
x $3
--------------
$195,000

Let's do some more math. Let's say 65,000 people who regularly attend Starbucks gave up their custom drink twice a month and sent the money to Global Fund.

(The daily total for 65,000 people skipping out on a $3 drink) $195,000
(The number of days a month they gave up drinks) x 2
--------------
$390,000

Let's get the yearly average now

$390,000
x 12
--------------
$4,680,000

In Summary. If 65,000 people gave up their drink twice a month from Starbucks or otherwise, and repeated the process for a year they would collectively give $4,680,000.

Let's say that money heads out to Sierra Leone, one of the poorer countries in Africa. Just to put it into perspective the average yearly wage there is $140 per person, so our funds from giving up two drinks per month is roughly the equivalent of the yearly wages of 33,500 people. There's a lot of need and a lot of good that money could do.

The point of this is not at all to bash Starbucks, and it's not to do fundraising for Global Fund. This is about the body of Christ in North America that has so much wealth. Our heavenly Father said "Never cease to be generous, for the poor will always be among you." My prayer of the church, for myself, is that we would go beyond just sacrificing a couple drinks a month, which in the end is just as cute and 'sacrificial' as buying a drink that donates 5 cents. Let us give out of our need

"God loves a cheerful giver" has become trite, a little song we learned in Sunday school. Father give us a vision of your generous heart. Cure me of my gluttony, teach me to use my resources frugally on myself; but lavishly on those who have need. Give me the heart of Jesus who gave it all, who had "no place to rest his head."

Giving Him All the Crap and None of the Glory... Jason and Thankfulness.

2008-11-18T12:27:00.001-08:00

List of Thank You:

Thank you Leonard for letting me sleep on your couch for two weeks. Enjoy the Rogue Ale.

Thank you Wilbur and Shirley for a home... not just a house to sleep in. Oh, and for the flexible payment dates, and for putting up with my messiness, and getting home late, and a whole other list of things I'm sure are annoying about me.

Thank you Larry for work, for paying me way more than necessary, and for making up work when there was none left for me.

Thank you Jordan, Steph, Mindy, Kyle, all you people who gave me lots of things to laugh about and lots of things to be grateful for in the middle of some tough times.

Thank you Chris and Preston for being so gracious with the cold hard cash.

Thank you Jim and Hope for looking for jobs for me, for letting me borrow the clothes to go try to get jobs, for being motivated for me when I had none left.

Thank you Courtney for making me feel like I was still a man, and that I was still worth something, and just because I could not get a job did not mean that I was incompetent. Oh, and for the emotional wellness days. You have been an Oasis in turmoil.

So what about God? It's easy for me to complain to him, cry out to Him, wonder what He's doing when things go bad. Now that things have taken a slight upturn I wonder what's wrong with me. I have to strain to find things to be thankful for? I can easily attribute the change to people, or events. I know, He is the one orchestrating things. I'm sure when this is all over we can talk about it and He'll explain the whole thing to me, and I'll see how much He cares. I just have a hard time pinning things on God that go good cause I don't get to see what He's doing behind the scenes.

I'm going to butcher this; but there's some quote that says "You may be the only Jesus they see." Well people have been the only Jesus that I've seen. He unfortunately doesn't manifest His physical presence in the person of Jesus in my living room on a daily, yearly, decade, or century basis. He does graciously make himself known through the compassion and generosity of my friends, through acts of love, through scandalous grace that gives to a guy who commonly mishandles his finances... even in times of crisis... So my thank you's are to Him; His manifested presence in the church, his body.

Bottom of the job hunt barrel.

2008-11-10T19:11:00.000-08:00

Went into Taco Bell today. They were out of job applications.

"What are you looking to do sir?"

My response pretty much let out this well of anguish. I seriously just about burst into tears in front of the store manager. I don't usually cry which lets me know how much this is all getting to me. "Anything." It represented defeat.

I'm not much of a fighter, I'm not one of those cancer patients who goes through chemo five times then climbs everest. Heck they wouldn't even put the needle in my arm before I would say 'screw it, Jesus get the party ready, I'm comin home!'

Most of the time I'm doin pretty good. I have good friends. A wonderful girlfried... she made me Oregon Chai with cool whip in it. She made me skip class to have an emotional wellness day. I like emotional wellness day. It's sort of like when mom used to wake us up and say "mom's holiday," she'd call the school and tell them we were staying with her for the day. Anyways, Courtney's a sweetheart, definitely lots of Jesus in that girl. Sometimes... most of the time, Jesus shows himself to us through other people. In this case, Jesus is 21 years old and gorgeous.

I want to give my time to the kingdom, I want to help people. Unfortunately that usually doesn't pay; in fact it costs money sometimes.

Back to the job search thing. The whole inward collapse at Taco Bell wasn't really a suprise. I was pretty pissed off from the time that I put on my tie (supposedly wearing a tie helps you get a job, maybe my chances will go up if I wear two ties), by this point I'm really wondering why the hell I'm turning in yet another application.

Applications have become "measureable failure." I can see my failure represented by the number of applications I have turned in without even getting an interview. Oh then there's those letters that inform me that all the positions have been filled. These usually come like 2 months after you've already realized you aren't getting the job.

Yea, job searching has become pretty despairaging. I'm not one to get depressed... but this is depressing. The ridiculous thing is that I don't even worry about money, I know I'm gonna have a place to live and food to eat, I have a butload of debt over my head from stupid school and stupid unemployment, and my own stupid inability to not spend stupid money. It's just the job hunt, it's something deeper than having the necessities, it's the ability to provide for ones self. I feel more and more each day like a dirty mooch. I'll scrub toilets for crying out loud, someone just give me a job.

Wilbur and Shirly are patient. I have been prompt with my rent up till now, the first of every month... it's the tenth, they haven't said a thing about it. I think they're just being generous.

There are some really good things in life right now. Fortunately those good things don't cost money; except for the gas it takes to get to those good things. Fellowship in the body of Christ doesn't cost money, laughter doesn't cost money, affection doesn't cost money, love doesn't cost money, acceptance doesn't cost money, family doesn't cost money. Things could get a lot worse, and I'd adjust, it's just the stupid job hunting I can't stand.

I'm hoping for that Taco Bell job, I think it would be a good ministry opportunity. God cares, I know He does. There are a lot of people in my situation who stand to lose a whole lot more... and they don't even have the family of God to fall back on.

On with the job hunt.

Unemployment... A Lesson in Kingdom Living.

2008-10-24T11:39:00.000-07:00

I am a mooch. I'm a dirty mooch. Tonight I'm going to Fiddler's Hearth. It's this wonderful Irish Pub setting. Two wood fireplaces, excellent food. My meal is being paid for. Such blessings.

There is really no other way to explain how I've survived here in Elkhart county. Other than God feeding my mooch lifestyle. I have been very part time employed for about 11 months now. By all rights I should be broke... well ok I am. By all rights I should be homeless. I need to start making a list. It's really ridiculous actually. Not only have I had a place to stay, food, gas, etc. I've got a free skii trip, a trip to Canada, and a trip to Columbia. It's a scandalous abuse of grace really.

Look if I had a job I'd work. I'm not the most motivated guy, but I want to pay my own way. Unfortunately right now thtat's not always an option. So rise up bride of Christ and give me money. I am so ridiculously kidding. If I get checks in the mail from people who read this, I'm going to burn them; that would of course be after I cashed them, but I'd burn them nonetheless. I would say however, don't give out of your abundance give out of your need, it's financially ludicrous. I think Jesus loves it.

I've heard that the verse "God loves a cheerful giver." could better be translated "God loves a ridiculous giver." The most beautiful gift I have recieved was from this wonderful ex missionary single gal. She's strapped for cash herself. We were talking and she said "If I had something to help you out with I would." Ten minutes later she got a birthday card with fifty dollars in it. Before she left she shoved $16 into my hand and walked away. It was sort of like one of those Burger King commercials; but she wasn't wearing the suit. She was having surgery the next week, mortgage due, low on food, I'm pretty sure she was worse off than I was. The kingdom of God is so backwards and beautiful.

This being a dependent mooch thing has done wonders for helping me understand grace and generosity... real generosity. Hopefully I'll remember the lesson when... if... I ever have some sort of employment.

Ok once again, seriously, if you pity me and send me money I'm going to hunt you down and paper cut you to death. I am not to be pitied, I am satisfied and feelin alive! *Said with southern black preachers voice.* Give freely. Give out of what others have given you. Spread the irresponsible scandelous grace.

Make Jesus smile.

Living Liberty-Living Love

2008-10-09T12:47:00.000-07:00

Jesus came to set us free from sin and death. He freed us to be ourselves, to love ourselves, to love him, to love others. I'm not sure where I got the idea that when I became a Christian I was supposed to continually hate myself. Tried that, doesn't work. The more I know Jesus, the more comfortable I am in my own skin. Sin is pervasive, I find little flakes on my skin and huge chunks underneath that require surgery. I hate the sin that's in me; but that's not me. It's a disease. Jesus cleans me up and says "Wow I did a good job when I made you." I wonder if Jesus laughs at my lame jokes.

The Freedom of Exposure

2008-09-23T12:47:00.000-07:00

We have this innate fear to be seen for what we are. I'm not sure why. At the same time we have this innate desire to be seen by the world and loved. At least I do.

I just joined up with a couple guys who were already meeting on Mondays. Basically we lay all our crap on the table. Self exposure. I think I'm gonna get a tan.

I talked with this guy at the church who is a cocaine addict. Yes he still is. According to him he will be for the rest of his life. He makes no claims of 'irrevocable recovery' he knows he's a threat to himself and to those around him. There was something beautiful about his blatant honesty. I want to be a cocaine addict.

I sort of wish every paper in the World, on the same day, published all my dirty little secrets. There would be CNN reports and Hannity and Colmes would talk about me. Probably most people would think I was a pervert or something. They'd probably also be afraid to speak up too loudly about the situation cause they'd probably be in the same boat I am.

So here's to honesty. Yay for cocaine addicts. Yay for Jesus who already knows; but still loves me.

Back to School

2008-09-02T12:08:00.001-07:00

It feels good to start school again. Exercising the brain, exploring new ideas, growing in various skills. I like school. I know that's somewhat odd; but if it were free I'd be a lifer. It feels good not only because I'm back into education, but also because I'm in an environment I've never encountered before.

I admittedly fall in the demographic of "first time out of a Christian Education Environment." Really, that shouldn't be a reluctant admission, Christian Education did me a lot of good, I'm thankful for it. Going to Rosedale Bible College did me even more good. I'm just glad I'm finally 'in the world but not of it' (educationally in this case). Needless to say, this new environment brings a lot of new experiences and evaluations of what I have been taught already.

My gut reaction is a "me vs. them" mentality. I was really shocked and sort of disgusted that my gut reaction in class was this tense combat situation feeling. I felt like my role here as an ambassador of Christ was to make sure they knew that I was right and they were wrong. You know, uphold the truths of strong theology and all that. We'll come back to that one.

Jesus and Christianity come up pretty much daily. For better or for worse Jesus (or at least his historical existence) is everywhere. Every time I hear something about Christians, or Christian influence -just about anything that Christianity had a part in- I pretty much want to disappear. My heart beats a bit, I race for answers to questions that will probably never be asked of me. I feel like if I don't stand up and defend Christianity every time it's backed into the corner, I'm failing. We'll come back to that one as well.

I think I know everything. Don't worry, I know that's not a good thing. I have some loving patient friends who remind me of that. I'm going to have a hard time just loving people while being in an educational environment. I can get so caught up on the discussion or the idea and what I think is right that I ignore where the other person is coming from and how I can better show them Jesus (not just what I think about the Sumerian writing's impact [or lack thereof] on the Old Testament). I'd joyously just ask for humility, but I know getting there sucks; so I usually just offhandedly mention it once and a while.

I gotta go to class. I'll touch more on those other paragraphs individually at a later date.

P.S. I'm not sure I'll ever be cured of procrastination.

Continuing to Process

2008-08-17T21:22:00.001-07:00

Excuse the longevity. I don't blame you if you don't bother reading. This is just my way of working through everything that happened.

Continued from Beginning to process..

Corvallis ICU seemed safer. Dad laid there watching tv with some wires strapped to his chest that zapped him every time his heart rate dropped below 50 bpm. It was hard to see my dad with wires hooked to him; but those wires offered comfort.

I settled into what would become quite familiar surroundings. I spent more time in hospital waiting rooms this weekend than I have probably spent in the rest of my life combined.

Somewhere during the middle of the day they put in a temporary pacemaker. Seriously why does my dad need a pacemaker, he's 45 for crying out loud. I liked the word temporary. I also liked that my dad didn't have to feel it when he got shocked

Nothing much else happened the rest of the day. Some family came. It was a nice gesture; but I learned that unless you are really really close to someone it's more annoying than anything to have people there. They try to let you know they understand and explain what God is doing, you know with all the same responses you get about God making things into something good and using things to make us stronger. I know it's all true, I thought about it all at various times so it was more annoying than anything to hear people say it like it was this magic word that would bring a jubilant peace to the wavy seas. Ha. I'll talk about this more later in a happier tone. I'm learning alot about suffering and hope.

Somewhere during the day I decided to stay the night. I stretched out on the carpet of the waiting room. You'd think they would put cots in there for people. I didn't really expect to sleep; just pretend to, so people wouldn't talk to me. I read a bit of Ernest Hemingways A Farewell to Arms then turned off the lights.

Sometime in the night an elderly woman sat down in the other part of the room. Soon after a doctor came in. There's certain conversations you hear that seem sacred, like you don't deserve or shouldn't hear them. Such conversations would include engagement proposals, last words of the dying, etc. This was one of those. "Is my husband going to die?" It turns out the guy had pneumonia, the doctors response was uncertain.

I have never had to hear a conversation like that before. I wondered not if but when I would have to hear a conversation like that again, or be a part of one. Five minutes, five years, fifty years? I asked God alot of questions while I listened to them talk. He didn't give any answers. Sometime later I woke up to a janitor giving the room a morning clean. Lucky for him I had already cleaned the room like five times.

This morning the test results came back. All good to go. Dad would go under the knife to get a permenant pacemaker. I went and said good morning to Dad We talked about the Jamaican dude that broke the 100m world record and watched a news report on the cow pie throwing world championships.

9 AM. Dad is rolled into the OR. I walked up and down the hall thinking who knows what. A few of you got some text messages. I tried to distract myself with thoughts of other unresolved stress issues going on. How about that one, trying to think of stressful things in order to get the mind off of even more stressful things. In what seemed like a one instantaneous moment, Dad got rolled out of OR, taken to his room, we left for the house, and I took a nap.

Jess, Jordan, and I (along with my nephew Isaiah) went in this afternoon to visit dad. We all watched Isaiah jump around the room, trying to find and push every button possible. Not much to talk about, we left after an hour or so.

Things seem calm now. It's like when you have a migrane and you don't remember what it was like to ever not have a migrane. Once the migrane is gone you can't even imagine what it was like to ever have one.

Beginning to Processing What Shouldn't Happen

2008-08-17T11:31:00.000-07:00

It started with a sound. Kind of like someone slipping and falling sort of thud... no that's not it. Maybe more like a sturdy shelf, with nothing on it, falling over. Another sound, mom yelling for dad. Not like an urgent yell. It was more like most the yells accross the house when we are to lazy to walk to the other side. Hmm maybe dad did slip in the shower, ah he's fine. No reply, another yell from mom followed by a knock... no reply. Some swimmer is finishing the 200m medly on tv, making what's happening in the back somewhat faint mumbles echoed through the bathroom. A seeming eternity of silence passes as I wait paralyzed for what I know is coming... I never want to hear mom yell for her sons like that again. Jordan heard that yell. Adrenaline took over my heart faded off to somewhere, I'm not sure it has come back yet. I didn't touch him I just saw him laying there in the bathtub motionless, unconcious. I'm not supposed to see my dad lying unconcious in the bathtub. I'm not supposed to wonder if my Father is dead.

About a million things went through my head, thankfully thoughts number two and three were "don't move him in case of a broken neck" "Call 911." Number one wasn't much of a though, more of a reaction that was one of those screams that comes out as a faltering panic voiced "dad wake up" I spit out information to dispatch. Somewhere inbetween the sprint to the kitchen phone and the confused conversation back to the bathroom dad woke up. Relief... sort of. I'm not supposed to see red and blue lights shooting through the windows of my childhood home.

The EMT's checked him out, there was nothing that they could find.... nothing that they could find. He went into the hospital. There was nothing that they could find, nothing that they could find. I'm not supposed to see my dad hooked up to monitors in the ER.

On the way home Dad passed out again. He's stubborn, he told mom to take him home.

I woke up the next morning to mom talking about Dad passing out again in the bed. I laid there begging myself to fall asleep. This isn't happening, my dad is fine. I gave myself a headache trying too hard. I took a shower and put on the clothes I shouldn't have had to wear for the next 24 hours.

Mom called from Dad's checkup. He passed out again, this time with ceasures. I told Jordan I was driving, I had to or else I would go crazy. He graciously greased my palm with the keys. I tried thinking of driving laws I could break and get away with due to the situation. I tried to think about what it might be that was causing Jordan's breaks to shudder; anything other than what shouldn't be happening and was.

Mom was in the emergency room halfway through a conversation, saying something about his heart. Somewhere in the same sentence as heart I heard the word stopped. So did mine. She didn't seem panicked so I assumed his heart started beating again. So did mine.

I got to see dad, he was concious but on some medication to keep his heart going that made him drowsy. My dad's heart shouldn't stop. It's supposed to work fine.

Albany doesn't have a cardiologist so they decided to take him to Corvallis. Someone said something about ICU. My dad shouldn't have to go to ICU.

I'm tired. I slept in the waiting room last night. Slept is a relative term. I shouldn't have to sleep in waiting rooms. I'm gonna take a nap. Hopefully I'll get the rest of this out in the next day or so. Thank you everyone who prayed. And thank you for everyone who let me update them and attempted to offer meaningful words. The words were meaningful, but the fact that you were there to give me a source of distraction was immensly more precious.

Looking Into The Abyss

2008-07-30T05:55:00.000-07:00

The spoiled brat can't decide to have a strawberry milkshake or an Oreo blizzard. If I were living in poverty I don't think I would be quite so concerned about making some of these decisions in life. My "What the heck do I do? God where are you? What do you want me to do?" would be quickly turned into "HOLY CRAP look at the amazing choices I have to choose from!"

It's easy for me to get all spiritual about where God wants me, that way I can ignore who he wants me to be where I'm at -a common occurrence in my life. Ok I rephrase that, it's easy for me to worry about where God wants me. Getting all spiritual about it would mean I would spending immense time in prayer trying to figure it out. whoops.

God is big, very big. Using a word to describe him makes him something small. He is what He is which is more than we could ever say. He also wins in the end, he does what He wants and gets his way -not in the spoiled child sense mind you. Even when I'm frustrated it's just frustration cause I'm not getting all my little whims fulfilled, not cause I'm scared that God isn't going to annihilate all that is wrong in this life. I may make some huge mistake in upcoming decisions, frankly I don't really care because there is no way I can know whether or not they are a huge mistake, I can just kind of guess at stuff. If God wants to give some specific marching orders, he knows how bad I am at listening to Him. God will have his way, I won't be able to mess that up.

Thanks Dad. Thanks for grace. I think it's probably the greatest cure for paranoia. You save me from sin, and you save me from myself.

Giving Up The Burden of Absence

2008-07-28T19:22:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I laid down the burden of not feeling God's presence. Out at the Conservative Mennonite Conference in Berlin, Ohio I hit up the prayer room. There was a wooden cross that had place to hang burdens. My burden was the absence of God himself. Funny I never thought of laying that burden at the cross before. I picked up the Martin Guitar with fresh strings and played and sang. I think God was hiding behind the couch. I couldn't see him anywhere but I had that unnerving feeling that he was hearing me and that it made him smile.

Not Because I See it Work

2008-07-21T19:11:00.000-07:00

One of the difficulties of love is that there aren't always those visible results of a changed life or an enriched heart, maybe a comforted soul. Sometimes it's just hard, or awkward. Not so fun. Sometimes love is like water. Water can eat entire ships as they set on the bottom of the ocean. After two days of setting in the rain, my motorcycle's chrome parts began to wear away. Sometimes love is a tsunami that annihilates entire cities of hurt and bitterness. More often it seems that love is a series of thunderstorms that wears out the car behind the barn over the course of a hundred years. In the end Jesus calls us to love, whether we see the results or not.

Understood.

2008-07-19T10:55:00.001-07:00

I feel quite misunderstood... most of the time. Even if people get my point, they miss my heart. It's mostly my fault really. I'm not very good at letting my heart show. I'm not sure why. I'm just not; though I suppose I've gotten better over time. There have been certain proverbial leaps I've taken at times where my heart tears the leash out of my hands and sprints across the park of life, leaving it's droppings of love here and there; but those times usually last for a couple days and are followed by a huge downturn in which I crash like a fourth grader on a sugar high. I am a super social person, but I can be around people all day and still feel lonely.

Much of the time I have something that my heart wants to say; but for sake of not knowing how the heck to say it without making people question whether I should be on some sort of meds, I usually just keep those things quiet.

I don't have to keep anything quiet with God. I couldn't -even if I wanted to. He knows it. I was talking to God the other day and was asking him if it makes any difference (besides helping me concentrate) if I speak verbally or just think things. I tried jumping back and forth multiple times in a sentence stopping the talking but continuing the thought without pausing. It was both comforting and unnerving thinking that I couldn't get away from Him.

I remember wishing as a child that someone would understand me. I'm not sure if I knew God did at that point. Probably not. I wanted someone to know how I felt about pretty much everything without risking them tearing me apart or exposing me in some way. When I figured out the whole God understanding me thing it was scary at first, then relieving because I realized He had been keeping His eye on things for a number of years prior and never told my friends how strange I was. Quite a comforting conclusion.

Goshen is starting to scare me. People are getting closer to my heart. I'm wondering what they will do when they find the man behind the curtain controlling the talking head. I think I'm both anticipating and dreading the day it arrives. I'm not saying I'm fake, I'm just bad at being understood, that can look like fake sometimes. If I could just flip a switch and be understood I would; but I can't. If I ever decided to stay... ... ...it would probably be the undoing of my heart cage.

Psalm 139 Would be a fitting read at this point.

Thanksgiving.

2008-07-16T11:24:00.001-07:00

I am thankful for kindness. Not that sort of I have to, or I'm gonna be a nice person kindness. Fake. When someone says "I really appreciate you," or "I missed you," and you know they really mean it. It touches the heart.

I'm thankful for music. Music that speaks into a situation and has an awesome beat or tune to boot. It doesn't leave you empty like a superficial good guitar solo that moves through your system like sugar. Crash and burn. I like steak and eggs music.

I'm thankful for difficulty. Something about hardship makes life seem worthwhile. Playing a game where everyone is a winner no matter what happens sucks. I like that Jesus is a winner and I get to be on his team. Kind of like being in middle school and getting to be on Jason Sii's team at recess, only Jesus passes me the ball more. He must not realize I suck at basketball.

I'm thankful for learning, changing, growing. It reminds me that I'm not exactly all that and a bag of chips; far from it.

I'm thankful for grace. Not just God's grace for sin and all that (as if it's insignificant or something); but grace from other people. I guess that comes from God too. I'm thankful for people who know I'm a fraud and still love me.

I'm thankful that Jesus is alive. I'm not that spiritual and I tend to experience silence more often than his presence, that is until I look back and see his greasy handprints all over the place in the story of my life.

Yay for Blush Zinfindel and White Russians (the beverage not the people). Well hooray for white Russian people too. Why not I'm part Russian. My Chiropractor (a Russian named Maxim) told me that cause I have a square jaw.

Thank you God. In this crazy mess of life, all that is meaningless in itself finds meaning because you care about us for some reason.

Dying to be Known.

2008-07-10T12:25:00.000-07:00

I spent the last few minutes with a man who is dying to be known. Unfortunately very few seem to care enough to listen long enough. The guy has some problems with telling the truth. He tells people what they want to hear, whether it's about himself, or life in general. We did a little exercise in truth. I asked him to either tell me the truth or tell me that he doesn't want to answer the question. Thinking to my own struggles I asked "Do you feel like you have to prove yourself?"

"Yes"

"Do you feel like no matter how much you try to prove yourself, you can't do good enough? And in the end you are dying for them to know who you really are?"

In a much quieter tone "Yes"

Our failure to be transparent is killing ourselves and those around us. If you are frustrated with someone, and tired of them, take time to really listen. Keep digging. Fight to get to their heart, deep on the inside they are begging for it. Sometimes very deep on the inside.

The Heart of the Cross

2008-07-09T08:44:00.001-07:00

This is my sermon for the coming sunday, I would appreciate any feedback, posative or negative. Negative feedback is helpful to make changes so please leave any negative feedback you have whatever it is (even if it's grammer or spelling or structure). Let me know what you think. And sorry I copied and pasted so the verses came out a little wierd. I'm too lazy to fix them at this point... or ever.

Greg Boyd said “How might our churches be different if we took Paul’s teaching seriously? What would happen if the ultimate criteria we used to assess how “successful” or “unsuccessful” our churches were was the question, are we loving as Jesus loved? The truth of the matter is that we are only carrying out God’s will and expanding the kingdom of God to the extent that we answer that question affirmatively. No other question, criteria, or agenda can have any meaning for kingdom-of-God devotees except insofar as it helps us respond to that question.”

Section I: A call to Crossbearing.

As we move through this series we’re going to be building around Mark 8:34 where Jesus said “If anyone desires to come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”
Mark 8:34 is obviously smack dab in the middle of a bunch of other verses so it’s probably a good idea to figure out why he is saying this. The ever astute Peter actually incited this response from Jesus. Jesus was telling his disciples that he would suffer and be killed by the powers that be when Peter pulled him aside and let him know he might want to tone it down a bit. Jesus response is swift. "Get behind me Satan! For you are not mindful of the things of God, but of the things of men."
He then gets the disciples and the crowd together and lays out something that I don’t tend to think much about. The cost of following Jesus. The call to carry my cross. The call to love like Jesus loved.

Section II: Voluntary and Involuntary Trials

I’m not sure where I got the idea but I always assumed that Jesus was just talking about going through difficult times in life and dealing with sin, and maybe once in a while feeling uncomfortable because other people are sinning around me. The problem is Jesus seems to be presenting an opportunity to voluntarily pick up something that is difficult. Bearing my cross is not so much being strong when difficult things happen to me, if you want to talk about that go to the book of James where he talks about enduring various trials. No this is talking about picking up a way of life, a path, in which I am knowingly placing myself in the way of difficulty. That way of life is answering that question "Am I loving as Jesus loved?"

Section III: The heart of the cross is compassion.

Compassion has driven the redemptive works of God from the beginning. The love and compassion burning in the heart of God is evident throughout the Old Testament.

Zech 10:6
"I will strengthen the house of Judah, And I will save the house of Joseph, And I will bring them back, Because I have had compassion on them; And they will be as though I had not rejected them, For I am the LORD their God and I will answer them.

Micah 7:18-19
18Who is a God like You, who pardons iniquity And passes over the rebellious act of the remnant of His possession? He does not retain His anger forever, Because He delights in unchanging love. 19He will again have compassion on us; He will tread our iniquities under foot Yes, You will cast all their sins Into the depths of the sea.
Lam. 3:19-23
19Remember my affliction and my wandering, the wormwood and bitterness. 20Surely my soul remembers And is bowed down within me. 21This I recall to my mind, Therefore I have hope. 22The LORD'S loving kindnesses indeed never cease, For His compassions never fail. 23They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness. 24"The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "Therefore I have hope in Him."

God’s compassion did not stop with the prophets. For 400 years after the closing words of Malachi, God was silent. Then redemptive compassion burst onto the scene when John announced "Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world."
In Mark 1:40 Jesus, the lamb of God, the one called the Son of Compassion, encounters suffering in the form of a leper. The Holy and pure runs into the unclean and despicable.

Mark 1:40-41
40A man with leprosy came to him and begged him on his knees, "If you are willing, you can make me clean." Filled with compassion, Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. "I am willing," he said. "Be clean!" Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cured.

This is God incarnate. This is the creator of the universe, the very God who acted on behalf of the entire nation of Israel, who continually had compassion on them. That unending compassion that ripped dramatic holes throughout history moved within the gut of Jesus. The word here for compassion is splugnetzomai which means the gut. We talk about love and compassion and even anger coming from the heart. In Jesus time they talked about it from the gut, the place where you feel it. The gut of almighty God, all his compassion was moved, and the creator of the universe touched a leper, the one who was untouchable, unlovable, avoided. Jesus had compassion and touched him. Had Jesus only put his arm around him and never even healed Him, this story would not cease to be one of the most significant events in History.
This compassion, this love, this is what drove Jesus to touch the leper. This is what drove Jesus to take up his cross. Jesus is what happens when the compassionate heart of God encounters a wicked suffering world. Jesus death is what happens when the compassionate heart of God encounters a wicked suffering world. The heart of the cross is nothing less than the compassionate heart of God for a suffering people. To take up the cross is to take up the compassionate heart of God in a suffering world.

Section IV: Jesus, the perfect picture of compassion.
I want to take a look at what the rest of Jesus life looked like. He was after all knowingly bearing his cross long before he was hung on it. Basically I want to know: if Jesus showed up here in Goshen, would I see him in the places and with the people I’m with, or would he have to come to me and get my attention so we could get to work? Preparing for this part of the sermon has been admittedly disheartening. I honestly have to answer that if he showed up today, he would be taking me to a lot of places to meet a lot of people and to do a lot of things I’m not even thinking about doing right now.
I went through the book of Matthew with three highlighters. Every time Jesus interacted or mentioned someone who was generally despised, poor, or considered sub standard by the general audience I used a blue marker. Every time it was the disciples or just a random crowd I used orange. Every time it was someone well to do, well liked, rich, religious person I used pink.
For the most part there was a good mix of each color; but a few things popped out to me. There were twice as many blue highlights as there were pink and orange. Roughly 30 references are made to Jesus interacting with or talking about the dregs of society and offering them immense compassion and hope. There are about 15 references to Jesus talking with the disciples and the crowds teaching them about the kingdom and calling them to kingdom work. There are also about 15 encounters with the well to do and religious leaders, in most instances he pretty much ripped them apart.
If my life were summarized like Matthew and I took a highlighter to it I imagine it would be mostly orange. Of course there would be some blue, maybe one or two times in my life where I actually gave myself and my compassion; but most the time I have put my arm around the physically suffering with a ten foot pole. And any pink would be brief encounters with the powerful and rich who I cater to and am impressed by.
If Jesus showed up here in Elkhart County. I’m sure I’d run into him. He’d probably come here to the church. I really do think he would, he’d teach us about the kingdom we would all worship the Father together; but then he’d get us all on the bus and head somewhere downtown to find some alcoholics and homeless, we’d probably stop by a burnt out neighborhood to play with some kids who didn’t have clean clothes, or dads for that matter. I’m sure there would be some big time TV preachers who would come to interview him and get frustrated when he put a baby with a poopy diaper on their Armani suited laps. If he stayed around for a while and worked at Schmidt furniture barn he’d be a pretty hard worker. He'd work with Joy, and over lunch he would get discussions going and start talking with his coworkers about all the things their hearts really wanted to talk about. He’d give his money to groups like the window, but he’d also come and hang out with the people over breakfast and invite them over for dinner that night. After all he did say “If you have a party, don’t invite those who can repay you, but invite those who can’t, this is true hospitality.” At the end of the day as we ate with our new friends that we met at the window His relentless gentle furious compassion would mingle with his words of truth and reveal more than just our immorality, but also our complacency, our gluttony, our greed. He would have us both crying because of our unfaithfulness but laughing joyfully because of His. We would be exhausted because the day was long and the work was hard, it is after all difficult to love people; but I think we would feel more purpose, more life, more joy, than we ever thought possible. If Jesus showed up here in Elkhart County.
My faith has become clean and pious. Jesus is messy. Soon before his death he cleansed the temple for the second time, flipping tables, chasing animals. And as they all left, the sick, the lepers, and children flooded the temple and praised God. To the people looking on, Jesus turned everything upside down.
This vision of what it would look like if Jesus showed up. I struggle. I do believe that in some sense this pattern of life is picking up my cross: laying down my daily rights, laying down my finances, having the compassionate heart of God in a world that suffers. At this point this is still a dream. The best way I can describe it to you is this: I am alive in Christ, He loves me immensely and his grace cleanses me from sin. I am alive but I am also sick. I have accustomed myself to my personal comforts and I have separated myself from the suffering of a dark world. I have ignored the starving, and suffering even in my own town. I am alive; but I can’t keep comforting myself with that thought. I am grateful to be alive, but I still must do something about my sickness. This world seems overwhelming but my purpose is simplified. Love like Jesus loved. That is the challenge. That is the goal. After all, when we love the down and out, the hurting, the starving, the dreggs of society, we love Jesus Christ himself. We are having compassion for the one who had so much compassion for us.

Matthew 25:31ff
31"When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his throne in heavenly glory. 32All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 33He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.
34"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'
37"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'
40"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'
41"Then he will say to those on his left, 'Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.'
44"They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?'
45"He will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.'

Dreaming Together.

2008-07-07T17:25:00.000-07:00

Shane Claiborne said "The kingdom of God takes imagination." I have been blessed to be surrounded by dreamers. People who see no limits on the kingdom bring me joy. They help me to dream as well. When I'm around them I think that maybe, just maybe, I'm not crazy. They make me think that radical discipleship among the common man is more than possible. If it isn't, I'm screwed. I never thought I'd find dreamers here in Goshen.

Called to Love

2008-07-05T16:32:00.001-07:00

I just stopped in to visit a friend from Maple City Chapel. The guy is in a wheelchair because he had his leg amputated above the knee due to issues with circulation. More recently he almost lost his left foot as well. Besides the fact that all of this has caused increased stress in an already stressful family situation, his medical conditions are background information.

Over the last few months I've had the opportunity to work with their son (16yrs) who has some pretty interesting views towards life and an amazing ability to bring the topic of girls he finds attractive into almost any genre of discussion. God has done some awesome things in the life of this guy and his family in the last few months, things I wouldn't have expected to find. Frankly, things I don't think God expected me to try to accomplish.

Lately I've had reaffirmed in my mind the idea that God doesn't call us to change people (that's His job); but he does call us to drastically love and serve people. I have to think about a few specific people that I've tried to change over the years. I think I have spent too much time trying to change them, and not enough time simply loving them as Jesus loved them. Had I done that I probably would actually have seen more results and less frustration on my part.

I was reading through Mark this morning. Jesus called people to a changed life, but He seemed more concerned with loving them first, simply having compassion. Ok so he did yell at some people, but he ended up yelling at the important, well to do, leaders of the time. I think I've flipped the example around.

It's easy to get frustrated and try to yell some common sense into people. Unfortunately common sense doesn't change a heart, just some actions. God is interested in changing hearts, he does that through our love for others.

I need to learn to love. No I take that back, I need to learn to love others. I already tend to do too good of a job at loving myself.

The Gospel for Sale

2008-06-26T07:21:00.001-07:00

While in Colombia our group did a sketch that illustrated the creation and fall as well as Christ's redeeming love. This is all done to a sound clip, very beautiful. Very powerful.

After one of the services an excited young Colombian man approached me with a notepad. He spoke broken english; but between his broken english and my broken spanish he was able to ask where we found the sound clip and if he could find it as well.

I am amazed by the power of drama and sound to capture the heart and plant the seeds of the gospel. God has truly given great gifts to his people in order to spread his kingdom. And apparently he has also provided them with a lucritive business opportunity.

I went to the youth pastor who was leading our group to ask him how our passionate brother in Christ could procure this gospel tool. "Oh well you just have to go to the website of a well known short term missions group and purchase it for $180" So I had to go back to this guy and watch his heart drop as I told him that this wonderful tool of the gospel that he was so willing to take to anyone within his reach would cost him fifty to seventy percent of his monthly income. He wrote down the information; but not quite as excitedly as he had previously been.

Ok I'm not exploring all the options here to be quite honest. I'll email said short term missions group and see if they could cut this guy a break. We'll come back to this.

Seeing Jesus in Columbia.

2008-06-21T06:19:00.000-07:00

It's been a week now that I've resided in Bogota, Colombia. I'm not sure what I expected to find; but I'm sure what I found wasn't what I would have expected. There are two aspects of this trip that stick out in my mind (well besides traveling as a loud obnoxious American in a big tourist group). Maybe it would be better to say there are two people who stick out in my mind.

The first man is Steve Bartel. Steve has been ministering to street kids in Colombia for about 25 years now. They are currently building a second 4,000 square foot home to house another family of street kids. He also has a vision for about 33 more homes on their 40 acres of mountainous land. He has quite an amazing vision. It is not this vision however that grabbed my heart so much, it was his love.

The love in this man was spectacular, his humility was genuine. When he talked about any of their projects or visions it was entirely through the lens of compassion for hurting people who needed Jesus. I apologize I can't articulate any better what I experienced in meeting this man other than this. There are certain people I have run into whose heart is that of Jesus and it seeps out of their pores. It was evident to me that this man was a friend, a close friend, of Jesus.

The second individual was Lillian Griffin. Amazing singer, faithful servant of God, and a Buckeye fan to boot. Her and her boyfriend Leo Morales (probably the most accomplished guitarist that I've had a chance to talk to) ministered to our group with word and song. It wasn't, however, till after the rest had left that I was blessed richly. I stayed up an hour and a half or so after the rest left, to talk with Leo and Lillian. Once again I saw Jesus and his heart in both of them. They encouraged me more than I have been in a long time. Every word they spoke gave me more courage as they talked of ministering to the poor both in Colombia and in the States.

So what to I take away from this trip. The visions of our heart take courage, lots of courage; but we have to start somewhere, we have to do something. Those around us need to see a glimpse of the kingdom (christians and non) in action, I myself am starving for it. I'm still spending to much time looking for it. Sometimes we don't have the option of following the obvious leader who can show us the way. No, I take that back, I do have an obvious leader who walked this earth for 33 years. I guess it's just hard to follow an example I haven't seen modeled significantly by myself or those around me. May our Jesus give us courage to chase what we have not attained. And may He give us the continual reminder that we have not yet attained it.

Dios Te Bendiga

Hace todo en Amor a Jesus.

We Are Rich

2008-06-09T10:52:00.000-07:00

Half the world — nearly three billion people — live on less than two dollars a day.

More than 80 percent of the world’s population lives in countries where income differentials are widening.

The poorest 40 percent of the world’s population accounts for 5 percent of global income. The richest 20 percent accounts for three-quarters of world income.

Around 27-28 percent of all children in developing countries are estimated to be underweight or stunted. The two regions that account for the bulk of the deficit are South Asia and sub-Saharan Africa.

If current trends continue, the Millennium Development Goals target of halving the proportion of underweight children will be missed by 30 million children, largely because of slow progress in Southern Asia and sub-Saharan Africa.

Based on enrolment data, about 72 million children of primary school age in the developing world were not in school in 2005; 57 per cent of them were girls. And these are regarded as optimisitic numbers.

Nearly a billion people entered the 21st century unable to read a book or sign their names.
Less than one per cent of what the world spent every year on weapons was needed to put every child into school by the year 2000 and yet it didn’t happen.

Infectious diseases continue to blight the lives of the poor across the world. An estimated 40 million people are living with HIV/AIDS, with 3 million deaths in 2004. Every year there are 350–500 million cases of malaria, with 1 million fatalities: Africa accounts for 90 percent of malarial deaths and African children account for over 80 percent of malaria victims worldwide.

According to UNICEF, 26,500-30,000 children die each day due to poverty. And they “die quietly in some of the poorest villages on earth, far removed from the scrutiny and the conscience of the world. Being meek and weak in life makes these dying multitudes even more invisible in death.”

(information taken directly from http://www.globalissues.org/TradeRelated/Facts.asp)

It's not that we don't care; it's that we don't see, and so we don't do. Only when issues become faces are our hearts filled with compassion.

The above photo is of a Sudanese Child crawling towards a refugee camp. He was only a mile away. The photographer did nothing to help the child. Overrun with remorse he killed himself two months later.

Jesus have mercy on us not only for the things we have done, but also for the things we haven't done.

2008-05-27T06:58:00.000-07:00

I feel like my gut has been hit with a sledge hammer. There has been a shadow in the back of my mind that something may be drastically wrong. I'm pretty sure now, something is. The weight of the blow has caused a turmoil in who I am and what I do. Massive sections of what I view as a complete life (or at least have lived like) are crumbling. To continue as things are would be to continue with a continual shadow haunting me; that something is drastically wrong.

In the world there is immense hurt, immense suffering, immense need. The extent of my response to that hurt, suffering, and need, has been to dip my toes in it (and to be proud of my accomplishments) When I feel like I've reached my comfortable limit, or maybe even stretched myself just a bit just to ease my conscience, I retreat from the darkness. I have hope, I have life, I have healing, and for crying out loud I have resources! I spend them all on myself. I am marginalized from the hurting of the world. I keep myself in a circle of happy middle class friends. I keep my eyes from seeing the pain. If my heart really saw the pain of the impoverished I would have to respond. That would be too difficult.

I am between a rock and a hard place. I see that something is drastically wrong. I see that the terminology of taking up our cross implies something difficult and painful. The price I have paid for my faith is minimal, the amount I have labored with difficulty is miniscule. I long for a kingdom that counts for something; but I'm not sure where to find the courage to see it come. I read scripture and see the glory and immensity of the gospel; it puts a weight on my soul as I reflect only a tiny trickle of it's glory. To ignore my feelings would be to numb myself to reality, to follow them would cost me (maybe for the first time in my life).

I know I am loved by my Father. He continues to pour that love out on all his children. In fact even now in the face of my drastic apathy His love and grace is even more drastic. His words to me are gentle and sure; but it is His love burns in me and convicts. His compassion cries out for the poor, the destitute, the down and outs of society, the unlovable, the worthless. Pretty much everyone I don't see much of in my life. I am repulsed by my own inaction in light of his love for myself and for them.

I have tried to turn God into something entirely too safe. I have turned him into a God that challenges me enough to make life somewhat exciting, without infringing on the entirety of my life. I love C.S. Lewis' portrayal of God "He is by no means a safe God, but He is very good." What does it mean if Jesus said it will be costly to follow him and it hasn't really cost me anything? I have asked for Joy and peace without difficulty and suffering. The extent of my persecution has been a muffled form of what pretty much everyone in the world goes through in their lives.

A friend said "maybe you should stop talking about doing things and do them."

Joe, if you're reading this, I see now why you stopped writing.

Some of my Favorites.

2008-04-10T11:32:00.000-07:00

Today is just about laughs. Here is a tidbit that involves one of my favorite writers and one of my favorite Bible stories.

C.S. Lewis and his friend Charles Williams once toyed with the idea of writing a book telling various Bible stories from the point of view of the animals mentioned in them.

For instance, with regard to this story they imagined two bears ambling through the woods having a philosophical debate about the existence and character of God. After the unexpected meal of the naughty boys, the bears would walk back into the woods together agreeing at last that yes, God does exist and yes, he is good.

Finding What I'm not Looking For.

2008-04-01T08:05:00.000-07:00

Colossians 3:1-3

So if you're serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don't shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you. Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that's where the action is. See things from his perspective.

It seems sometimes -much of the time- that ministry happens when we aren't even looking for it.

The last few days have been rather ordinary and yet complete. I have found myself stopping continually and focusing on the moment. Each moment has not simply been a moment where I need God to get through it; each moment has been in itself opportunity to connect with the creator, a moment to spend with Him, a moment in itself equally as important as any other.

Yesterday I was blessed to be used in one of the most meaningful ministry opportunities I have ever experienced. After lunch I took off from work and was going to run some errands when I received a phone call. Long story short, I had the opportunity to help a son open up his heart to his father. I was blessed to see a son forgive his father, tell him he loved him, and give him a hug. I feel ridiculously blessed to be a part of what my Father is doing.

Funny thing is this blessing came when I really wasn't looking for it, just as with the seeming explosion of ministry opportunities that have happened in the past three months. I have tried to make myself preoccupied with God, obsessed with connecting with Him. Even at the expense of 'ministry' I just want to commune with Him. I have given up trying to find what the heck God wants me to do and have just tried to find God. The result, I finally am learning to contently continually commune with Him; and I have found more ministry than I have ever experienced at any other period of time.

I pray that I won't start to look at this as a 'method for ministry.' The point of my existence is not to 'do ministry' it is to know and follow Jesus wherever He goes, it is to be in communion with God. Out of this flows peace, joy, compassion, love, righteousness.... and ministry. When we walk with Him He points out things that He sees and tells us how He feels about it, it is then that we can respond to God's heart and be genuine kingdom workers.

Out of sync... once again.

2008-03-28T09:27:00.000-07:00

The fulfillment of our existence is communion with our Creator. All of life flows out of this Father-child relationship. How easily children forget.

Relationship with the Father is difficult. It is hard to chase after a transcendent God. Heck, it's hard enough building relationship with human beings that we can see. How much more difficult is talking to an invisible beyond us yet with us God who often seems eerily silent? Sometimes I feel like Pharisaical rules would be much easier. I guess that's why it's so easy to fall into legalism.

Relationship takes work. I continue to be encouraged to be continued by the heart of Brother Lawrence. He had no drastic theology, no theatrics, just relationship. He had methods in the relationship of course; but they were a means to an end, not the end themselves. I am also encouraged that his continual communion with God took time to develop (once again like human relationships). Getting to know God is just that, getting to know God. It takes time, it grows. Sometimes it takes a lot of time.

Getting to know God is more normal than we want it to be -but not less extraordinary. In its fullest form, the presence of God is not us convulsing on the ground in the face of a beaming light. In the garden, Adam and Eve walked with God in the cool of the evening and talked with Him. We tend to always expect brokenness, always expect overwhelming emotion, always expect a 'blast of the spirit.' These things are a dynamic of our relationship, just as certain times with very close friends are emotional; yet I don't feel that something is wrong in those close friendships if things are just normal at times. Is it blasphemous to say that sometimes relationship with God is just normal life? I really don't have an answer to that one.

It seems much easier to lose contact with God than get in touch with Him. It seems that most days that I actually connect with my Dad I get all excited about his heart and run down some trail of thought or action and pretty soon my attention shifts from His heart to my actions; and I set off on a journey He wants to take me on, without Him. One day I'll learn.

I want to see every moment, every breath through his heart. Any act of compassion, any train of thought, any theological perspective that lacks the life giving blood of Jesus being pumped from the heart of God is a waste of time.

When will the daily and the divine ever collide in my life?

A Lesson from the Early Church

2008-03-27T10:17:00.000-07:00

I am doing some research on the early church's interaction with Rome in the 1st through 3rd centuries. Here is an interesting quote I just came across.

"In the cheerless waste of pagan corruption, the small and despised band of Christians was an oasis fresh with life and hope. It was the salt of the earth, and the light of the world. Poor in this world's goods, it bore the imperishable treasures of the kingdom of heaven. Mekk and lowly in heart, it was destined according to the promise of the Lord, without a stroke of the sword, to inherit the earth. In submission it conquered; by suffering and death it won the crown of life."

-Phillip Schaff History of the Christian Church

Interesting that one of the most explosive eras of church growth was epitomized by suffering and service. Reading history on the early church I have seen nothing until Constantine in the way of Christian political maneuvering. It is true that early followers of Jesus didn't have much in the way of options politically; but we also don't hear of any violent or even political action on the part of believers to 'get their rights' or even somehow overthrow or preserve unjust, ungoldy systems. Their ethics, their hope, the kingdom they belonged to, transcended the sea of paganism around them. They did not try to change the culture; they followed Jesus and as a result became a bonfire that continually attracted the attention of even the highest officials.

Mingling the Daily and the Divine.

2008-03-24T13:22:00.000-07:00

I find myself synchronizing the transcendent and the trivial. Is any one event, time, or place more sacred than any other? I find myself not necessarily wanting the 'sacred' to become more normal, rather I want the normal to become more sacred. I want to see the God of the universe transcend even the trivial parts of my life. I long for the day when my intense connection with God is not dependent on my context, my disposition, or activities.

The Struggles of a Liturgical Evangelical Anabaptist

2008-03-20T12:46:00.001-07:00

Spontenaity, originality, off the cuff, progressive, driving, contemporary. I have found myself struggling to be in churches that are either 'contemporary' or trying to be 'contemporary'. I feel that the greater part of the evangelical service is like a tv commercial, get in as many different spiritual feelings flashed in front of us as we can in thirty seconds, then move on to something new. The entertainment factor is so frustrating to me. It seems that the current evangelical church is somewhat ignorant of the past 2000 years of worship. As those before us have nothing valuable or applicable to this decade.

In the last few years I have discovered what is simple, what is thoughtful, what is deep, is what rejuvenates me. Saying the Creeds reduces the complexity of religion into simple powerful truths. Reciting the Lord's prayer brings a wholistic picture as to God's desire for my life. The structure of a call to worship followed by confession, an assurance that we are forgiven, response to that in worship (whether hymn, reading, or contemporary worship song, or maybe just spoken words) and exaltation of the glorious Father who loves us and is the center of our existance.

I realize much of this desire is shaped by my personality. I don't think the liturgical structure is the absolute only way to worship; but I do feel like much of contemporary worship is fast paced, entertaining, largely emotionally driven, and hectic.

I think I'm going to try and find an evening service with something liturgical.

Practicing Practicing the Presence of God.

2008-03-19T07:46:00.000-07:00

I have an utterly amazing job. I work on a dairy farm. I spread hay, I scoop poop, I spread poop, I milk cows, I herd cows around. It's great pay, and I get a home made lunch.

In the style of Brother Lawrence I have tried to make my place of employment a sacred space. As I spread bedding hay I just commune with my Father, talking here and there, offering praise, praying for those I knew. In the area where the cows are milked -I can't remember the terminology for it. I just started work I'm not exactly a professional dairy farmer- the radio was on and I sang songs to my Father. The moment actually seemed more worshipful and sacred there in that milking parlor -that's the word- than it many times does during a church service. Those stone walls and milking tubes became my sanctuary.

Connection with God has always been on the forefront of my mind; but it often seems that 'getting through' each moment with God was the goal; as opposed to spending each moment with Him. What happened in the milk parlor yesterday was an immensly small understanding in my heart that each moment was not something to be 'getting through' with God. Each moment is within itself a moment to abide in the presence of God. Each speck of time, no matter what the circumstances, is a speck of time that is sacred and beautiful; a moment whose purpose is to commune with the Father.

"We ought to give ourselves up to God with regard both to things temporal and spiritual and seek our satisfaction only in the fulfilling of His will. Whether God led us by suffering or by consolation all would be equal to a soul truly resigned."

-Brother Lawrence

Should I expect anything different?

2008-03-13T11:46:00.000-07:00

I was scanning radio stations on my drive through Goshen a couple days ago. A radio station rush hour talk show was commenting on the whole Govenor Spitzer fiasco. I must say I was sort of, but not really shocked. The summary of their commentary was: "If Spitzer's wife wasn't freaky enough for him in bed then I can understand why he hired a hooker." They continued to go on about how you need to make sure and have a wife who was as equally freaky (or prude) as yourself so that you can be happy in marriage.

Now before you call up James Dobson to get some legislation passed on what people can say about marriage, I ask the question: Should I expect anything different from a world without Jesus Christ? I've noticed the Christian response to conversations like that is usually disgust at how anyone could think in such a distorted way. Admittedly that was my first response. My second response -or should I say the second response which was incited by conviction- was one of disgust.... with me. Of course what they are saying is twisted, of course it's off base, of course that's a pretty screwed up litmus test for a good wife; but how should they know any different?

Paul tells us not to walk in gratifying lustful desires as we did in our 'former ignorance' (I Peter 1:14). That implies that though we are now in Christ, we were at one point (as many still are) in ignorance. These shock jocks are in ignorance (in my opinion, obviously).

To bring it back to Dobson. What is our obsession with making ignorant people act like Christians? What if the Moral Majority passed every little law they wanted to? What if this really became a "Christian Nation" what if marriage were preserved (at least on paper) and homosexuality was illegal? What if porn industries were shut down and bars were closed (not that alchohol in itself is sin to begin with)? Well, we would probably have a nation full of ignorant 'moral' people. People with all the trappings of your typical evangelical, minus a significant relationship with Jesus. I guess if that's the aim we're setting a good example.

Down to a personal level. My disgust with myself came as I listened to the radio because I realized I was investing time feeling disdain for people I should be praying for. Why am I expecting people to be 'moral' when they don't know the one who is the source of morals? Did Jesus even do this? I understand he spoke truth, he told the Samaritan woman to go and sin no more and in forgiving other people's sins he was mentioning the fact that they were sinful; but I can't think of a time where he told somone to change their life without first coming to Him. He said, follow me. He gave a description of what it meant to follow him; he made that pretty clear. He spoke the message, he lived the message, he made clear the benefits and consequences (benefits and consequences of following, consequences of not following); but he left it to the individual to decide whether or not to follow that standard, that lifestyle. Meanwhile his heart burned with compassion as he saw his people marring themselves with sin. There is a drastic difference between my disgust and Jesus Compassion.

Ok maybe I shouldn't hammer Dobson, the guy has a lot of amazing insights to families and child development. All I'm trying to say is that our role in spreading the kingdom is not done by force. We show people there IS a better way to live, and at times we point out that the way the world does things is destructive. Our mission is not to change people, that's God's job. Ours is to show them that there is hope, that there is one who can change them and save them from what they were ignorant of.

God is just teaching me to be grateful for what I have.

2008-03-06T07:53:00.001-08:00

I just got back to Goshen from Daviess County Indiana. Driving 300 miles -partway through an ice storm- gave plenty of time to talk with my passenger.

Ruben popped into the church a few weeks ago. He wanted help. An hour later we were back at his barren apartment with some groceries where I met his wife and kid. He didn't have a job, he didn't have a car, he didn't even have a phone. So even if he walked five miles and applied for a job, he would have no way of being reached by someone so he knew he had the job. My schedule is pretty flexible so the next day we went job hunting. I asked him if he wanted to come to church that Sunday. He said yes; but when the time came to pick him up he didn't answer the door.

Fast forward -then back again- to last Monday. Ruben called the church, after about five minutes of weeping he finally blurted out his situation. The family was gone. His wife and kids had moved back down to southern Indiana. He asked me to call back in an hour.

When I called back all he asked for is that I would pray for him. So I spit out some feeble words into his immense pit of pain. I asked how I could reach him again. He didn't know, he was being evicted out of his apartment that next day.

About 9:30am on Tuesday Ruben calls again. He asked if I knew of any place that needed work. I didn't. I told him he could at least come hang out at the church to stay out of the cold.

I think I'm getting sidetracked. Long story short, Ruben and I are driving towards southern Indiana. He doesn't know where he can stay, where he will work, he spent his last dollar on a pepsi and some ciggarettes at a gas station. I'm thinking about calling Phillip Morris and having them get him an apartment. All Ruben knows is that he has a responsibility to his family, and he has to provide for his wife, and be there for his kid.

About 60% of our conversation was awkward and surface. I'm freaking out because all I'm doing is driving this guy 300 miles just to drop him off on the street. What do I do? What do I say to him? God picked quite the time to seem distant. So much for spirit filled ministry.

Somewhere near the Indianapolis Beltway Ruben breaks loose. All kinds of thoughts about what the purpose of life was. He asked me what I thought it took to be succesful in life. He shared his heart about God being compassionate (even though he was broke, homeless, and seperated from his family) he let me know he was scared but that he was ready to live on the street if he had to. He kept saying, "I don't understand it but I don't have to. God understands his plans, that's what counts." This man puts the church to shame in devotion to his wife and kid, his trust in God is crazy, he is both realistic and optimistic. Thank you Ruben.

Tuesday evening we got to Odon, IN. He said "You know I think God is teaching me to be grateful for the things I do have. While life was good I took all those things for granted." The man praised God in the midst of his hell. The man stared into the face of despair, and praised God. I feel ridiculously full of crap for the pathetic things I've complained about in my life.

Ruben is now reunited with his wife. They have a week's worth of shelter, thanks to a kindhearted pastor from Odon. He applied for several service sector jobs and has a couple pastoral contacts in Jasper. Oh by the way Jasper doesn't have homeless shelters because the mayor thought it would make things look trashy. Yay for the ever compassionate world powers. In a week Ruben may be on the street. I doubt a week is enough to find a job (let alone get a paycheck to pay continued rent). A prayer for Ruben, Venessa, and Anita would be appropriate here.

There were about fifty different places I wanted to go with this and I don't think I went to any of them, or maybe I went to all of them. Maybe a summary of what I learned would be helpful.

From the situation:

Being Jesus to other people is frustrating, tiring, expensive, and painful (I slipped on ice). All around difficult.

True Compassion is not so easily satisfied. Although I felt slightly better knowing that we had done something to help, my heart still ached, Ruben has a long way to go.

From Ruben:

Life will be difficult. We don't have the 'right' to any kind of hapiness in this life. God equips us to have a good life with whatever it is we are given. (Paul said "I have learned in all situations to be content).

Real praise is not fluffy clouds and puppy dogs. Real praise is declaration of who God is in ALL circumstances. Even if He himself sends us through hell for his purposes. What if God made your life on this earth ridiculously painful? Would you still praise Him? (see the book of Job)

Ruben saw this as a test of his faith, not a punishment. This was a chance for his faith to be shown genuine. (see the book of James).

My kingdom for some better writing skills... I'm just going to end without a solid conclusion.

Do all in love to Jesus Christ

Did I fail to be Jesus?

2008-02-27T08:39:00.001-08:00

I am faced with the aftermath of my actions, both giving and heartless.

When I first saw Fred I realized it was a pretty interesting situation. Not just because his dress was definitely more concerned with comfort than it was with appearance; but because his fingernails were yellow and cracked. The guy was definitely malnourished. I took Fred over to Lux cafe where he ordered as quickly as he could, and got it to go. I took him down to Best Western where the church was going to put him up for the night. We talked a bit here and there but he seemed cold and indifferent... no that's not the right word. I could tell he was deeply hurting, but he tried to hide behind what seemed like indifference. Only when I asked him what he thought about the buggies around Goshen did he seem like more than a shell of a man. He laughed and said it seemed a little back in time. We went to CVS and picked him up some pepto Bismal and Advil.

The next day Fred came by the church again, asking for another night at the hotel. Mel offered him a bus ticket to New York. Strangely he didn't take it. Mel tried to get him to New York; but for whatever reason, he turned it down. He came back again today asking for another night at the hotel.

Long story short we said "too bad buddy, you had your chance." (Not in those words but in the end it's all the same right?) Oh such a wonderful example of Christ I am. I can't say I feel convicted, I just wonder. Mel did offer spiritual help, He said that we are here and available to minister to his spiritual needs. And to an extent we did minister to his physical needs (about $200 worth). I prayed with him and spent a measly $8 on advil and pepto. So now I sit here and wonder if we did enough.

I like how Greg Boyd says it. He talks about service. Showing God's love in little ways, giving of ourselves, bleeding for others; all of these things are not done to create a utopia here on earth, they are done to give a glimpse of something greater that is to come. God has compassion for the hurting, so we should too. Even if we know we're pouring money time and energy into a hole, it shouldn't stop us from doing so.

I'm not sure I have anywhere near a good answer as to whether I gave enough of myself. I guess that's not the point. This just goes to show me that my love is limited, my ability to give is limited; God's is unlimited. He never has said to me "sorry buddy, you had your chance" he gave until it hurt, then He gave more. Maybe, one day I'll get to be just like him.... one day.

A changing love part I: righteousness

2008-02-23T13:35:00.001-08:00

I'm talking about love. Crazy love. Not the fuzzy stuff; not the hormonally driven, oh what a babe, shallowed out by hollywood type of love. I'm talking about sweat, blood, and tears; all shed by the alpha and the omega. A drastic love given to the filth of the earth. Humbling.

This drastic love is not simply a source of salvation for an undeserving people, it is an agent of change in their lives. It turns the most drastically miserable people into the bride of Christ, pure and spotless. It makes the vile into blazing images of Jesus Christ; His very hands and feet.

This love tears us apart when we sin. When we are not conformed to the image of Christ, when we spit in his face it only increases our misery as we spit in the face of the very love that we really want. Even as sin is being committed, Jesus voice calls "I love you." It is not a condemning love, it is a genuine real love that longs for intimacy. Our spirit longs for this intimacy. Even as we roll in the filth our heart is torn. Love convicts us. It does not condemn, it convicts. It lets us know we are forsaking the love that has come to us.

All of our existance is fulfilled in this drastic love and when the love is in harmony with life, everything is as it should be. The world can be falling down around us and yet we have peace, because we have everything that we ever needed. The more we realize this love, the more we are satisfied and complete in it's presence, the more powerful the tearing is in our soul when we roll in the filth. That intensity of conviction of sin seems to come in proportion to our understanding of the immense fulfilling love. As we become satisfied, our desire to stay -as well as the desire to avoid what would tear us from that love- is magnified.

Then there is what C.S. Lewis called gift-love. That love that desires to reflect the love the Father gives to us. There is an understanding that the returned love is so insignificant in comparison to what we've been given; but even the chance at giving back something at all excites our heart. It is when we are carrying out gift love that we are walking in perfect harmony with our Jesus. We are giving to Him any scrap that we can find. We walk around the mud puddles with joy, offering it as a gift to him.

It is only when we realize the immense undeterring love of Jesus in our hearts that we move beyond making rules for righteousness and actually have any chance of living righteous lives. It is only once we actually start living righteous lives in love to Jesus (and I'm not saying perfect lives) that real compassion bursts out of us and into the world around us; but we'll save the compassion for next week.

Inneficient Kingdom Part II

2008-02-14T14:10:00.001-08:00

Time is very interesting. It is all amazingly valuable; but some time is worth more than others.... to God. We all have our "best time" the part of the day where we are awake, refreshed, ready to go, peaceful and happy. For me, this prime time is probably smack dab in the middle, about 1 or 2. Who gets this time?

I've heard of so many people who got up at the wee hours of the morning to make sure to get in their prayer because it is so drastically important (I respect their discipline); but why not get up at the wee hours of the morning to start work, so you can give the best time in the middle of the day to God? Oops that would be inneficient.

Smack dab in the middle of the day is when all the business happens. We have our meetings, our late lunches, we can't sacrifice that time!

Maybe it's time to stop orienting our prayer life (aka our daily communion with our creator and savior) around the culture's schedule, and start orienting our schedule around our daily communion with our King Jesus.

Yea I know this might hurt business (the economic type); but since when has efficient economic policy been a priority of Jesus?

An Inefficient Kingdom Part I

2008-02-10T12:19:00.000-08:00

"Evil looks like business!"

-Mike Yacconnelli

That would be business in terms of time, not corporation. Why is efficiency and productivity equated with Godliness? Why is effective use of our time involvment with consistent committments? Why is business praised as 'hard work,' while leaning on your shovel to talk with someone is deemed 'lazy'?

"If you go along with the culture, the culture will love you. If you hate the culture, the culture may even respect your opinion. If you ignore the culture, it will drive it crazy"

-Brennan Manning (my paraphrase)

Our culture is obsessed with efficiency. We are associational; which basically means we only talk with people because they are associated with our tasks, like saying hi to someone who is serving us our grease pile at Micky D's. I'm sure there has been some study done on which greeting will extract the largest possible number of dead presidents from the sewed cowhide of said customer. Our culture is obsessed with efficiency.

This obsession has permeated the church. Loyalty to the kingdom means being in at the church five times a week. Between church, work, family, more work, play, working to pay for all the toys. Things get hectic. We have no time because we always work, and we have no money because we spend spend spend.

What if we cut spending like there was no tomorrow? Drop the satellite tv, get a car that has lower payments; or dare I say, one that is over five years old. Eat out less, spend less on presents at Christmas. Live within, maybe even below your means. Now there is more money available. Now you don't have to work as much. Now there is more time available. Cut spending, gain time.

Of course there is always the problem of those who can barely put food on the table, let alone cut spending. I believe it is the responsibility of the body of Christ to be able to provide their brother's and sisters a life in which they can give time to be able to live out the kingdom of God. "What? That's communism, they need to be more efficient and work harder." Oh get over your obsession with individualism. We're the body of Christ, not the united organic materials of the Son of God. So what if some parts are dependent on the others for survival. The heart keeps the whole body alive, I never hear it whining to the hand, "Oh geeze maybe you should pump some more blood, and be a responsible individual."Association with the Lamb of God kills autonomy. We are no longer individuals we are a part of the body of the Slain Lamb.

If we are followers of the Christ, members of His kingdom, then "How did Jesus use his time?" is a pertinent question. The ushering in of a kingdom was not a publicized scheduled event. Rather, it seems that Jesus neandered around Israel for three years, talking to whoever would listen. How is that for efficiency? A slower paced life, one that turns down opportunity for advancement for the sake of kingdom availability is counter cultural. One whose heart is fixed on God's is unurried. One who is unhurried by the world around them turns heads.