Fundamentals

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

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

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

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

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.

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?

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.

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.

***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.

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?

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

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.

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?