Worlds Apart

http://www.mygazines.com/issue/6001/39

2010-05-27T10:07:00.000-07:00

http://www.mygazines.com/issue/6001/39

Ode to Orlando

2010-05-25T07:35:00.000-07:00

Orlando was a good friend of mine, at least for the few short moments we were given to share together. Orlando never said much, he didn't need to. His charisma was well worn and his charm was never unnoticed. Most people liked him and Orlando never seemed to notice the ones that resented him. He was from somewhere south of the border, but no one is sure what border. He was an introvert in his own way and that is how he came and went. His ability to woo a crowd never disappointed and his personality was always delightful but not over the top. Orlando Rodrigez III was his full name but most people knew him as ORod. I meet him on a park bench on the north side of town. He asked if he could stay awhile and I saw no reason to deny him of the honor that would become mine. We would stay up laughing at videos and old folk songs, casually stopping only to breath in the thickness of moments rare to find. He became a brother to me. A week turned into four and with each new day I feared the inevitable. I knew the day would dawn on our goodbye ridden exchange. That day came with promises of phone calls and new year's eve party invites amidst the sobering tears that had been dammed up for weeks. Seeing ORod leave was like watching part of my soul walk away, except I knew that I kept a part of him too.

writing for the clouds

2010-05-18T21:31:00.000-07:00

I feel like writing tonight, but I do not feel like being profound. Maybe it is better that way. Who ever set out to be profound? Instead, I wish only to meander through words in hopes that a few of them might make sense. A few might land somewhere in space and few might be friends and sing songs together. I wonder what kinds of songs they might sing. I wonder if it would be Taylor Swift or something more soulful. I have nothing against Taylor Swift, but I don’t think she is soulful or profound in any way. Regardless, singing sounds fun tonight. I have thoughts of singing sometimes, but mostly I sing off key and people give me that fake smile that makes me want to stop singing immediately. False affirmation is like that, an emotion that is right played out in the wrong way. What if we could shed the covers of insecurity and be who we are? I have no allusions of doing that here. I’m far too scared of the consequences. People might point and laugh or worse they might like me for who I am and then I might be forced to deal with who I really am. I am not saying that I’m fake, but everyone is at some level. Our greatest desire is also our greatest fear, to be known fully and loved anyway.
Things were getting serious in that last paragraph so I am starting a new one. New starts bring a new chance at change and laughter or more failure. I try to start fewer and fewer things so that my failures go down every year. I’m pathetic but not in the self-loathing way. I’m way too arrogant for that. I’m going to quit this while I’m way behind. Losing is underrated. Sometimes losing things is the best gift you can get.

Flooding

2010-05-05T20:05:00.000-07:00

This week will prove to be a memory. It will not be a memory that I like. Nashville flooded this past weekend and the damage is coming to light. Homes are submerged. Cars are waterlogged and lives are changed. I have no answers and even passing out water to those in need today seemed like a dismal attempt at help. I watch basketball on TV tonight as thousands struggle to salvage the wreckage. I saw people playing golf today too. I wonder how you watch basketball and play golf in times like these, yet I sit and watch. I sit a bit numb and a lot helpless. I have become a believer of the unseen and am a skeptic of the seen. Looming tomorrow is a promise of a new day, a day that will bring sun and hope, but it will also be a tough day for people to digest. I hope that maybe it will be hard for me to digest, for maybe their disaster is my disaster. Maybe the church is connected like the flood waters that rushed through the city. Maybe we get the chance to help in the rebuilding and hear the stories of how good HE still is even when the water rises.

Sleepless Banter

2009-12-02T22:03:00.001-08:00

It's late and I should be attempting to sleep, but sleep seems to find me more often than I go looking for it. I don't know what that means really, but I think it is true nonetheless. I suppose I write tonight because I have been writing for everyone else lately and I feel like maybe my life has some words to say. A blinking cursor will be the teller of that truth. I have thought a lot lately, mostly about how complex the world is and how finite my view of it all is. I think about odd things too, like whether or not penguins really do exist on every continent like people say they do. I've watched a lot of sports lately too and that only leads me to believe that my life has been boring of late. I did go out that one night, but I don't remember any grand details of it. I have become very good at telling the stories of others recently. My favorite story is the one about a man named Jesus, but even then I feel like maybe he is inviting me to live and tell my own story. It isn't like I don't live a great story, I did leave only two pegs in the infamous Cracker Barrel triangle challenge. You had to be there I guess. What if the blinking cursor is right? What if my story is dull and fleeting? What if it is still unwritten...uhumm...sorry. I think it is easy to tell the stories of other people though. It allows me to be safe while people are still listening to me. It gives me some sense of worth and adventure while still holding the remote control with my finger on the go back button because one game isn't enough to watch at a time. It steals my story and replaces it with numbness. What are we to do with this man named Jesus?

Q Series

2009-11-17T14:00:00.000-08:00

A few weeks back, Mosaic gathered around food and conversations. Conversations that were filled with weight and flight alike. We talked aimlessly and pointedly at the same time. We sought to answer some of the life and faith's most difficult questions. Here is one of the questions and notes on one that I was given to answer:

What happens if someone never hears the gospel? Ex. If someone in Africa never hears the gospel, do they go to Hell?

Affirmation from Scripture

All people know God the Father (Romans 1:18-20)
All people reject God the Father (Romans 1:21-23)
There are no innocent people in the world (Romans 2:17)
All people are condemned for rejecting God (Romans 3:19-20)
God has made a way for salvation (Romans 3:21)
People cannot come to God apart from faith in Christ (Romans 5:8)
Christ commands the church to make disciples of all people (Romans 10:12-15)(Acts 8:31)(Romans 10:14)

Model given in Romans 10:14
Christ sends believers
Followers preach
People hear
Hearers believe
Believers call
Callers are saved

There are no examples of the gospel going forth in the book of Acts without someone proclaiming it.

The goal of Scripture is not to answer all the questions, but rather to alleviate them altogether.

**Notes taken from Dr. David Platt, pastor of the church at Brookhills in Birmingham, AL. David is a good friend and a brilliant scholar of the Word. www.brookhills.org

The day is dawning...

2009-08-26T21:21:00.000-07:00

Because we all have questions...

Blue Moons and Sam Adams

2009-08-12T15:42:00.000-07:00

Some days are heavier than others. I suppose today is one of the some days. I'm sitting in a coffeehouse downtown after watching the United States soccer team give away a game to Mexico. I don't really care, but somehow I do. The loss isn't what has made this day heavy, but it didn't help. Few things am I convinced of anymore. I am convinced that the US will not win the world cup in my lifetime, yet I still want them to win.

I passed a homeless guy on the way to the bar that held up a sign that read, "Need help: God bless you." I wonder what his God is like. I wonder if he needs help or needs God and I wonder those things are the same. I wonder if God means anything to him. I wonder if somehow he doesn't need help, but rather I do. I mean, scripture is clear on a few things. It is clear on my relationship to the poor and oppressed, yet I drove by. I didn't make eye contact for fear of feeling guilty and feeling responsible. I think I am. Maybe his God is my God and if so, I missed the sign. Maybe his God is beer and cigarettes, crack and whores, but maybe my God loves him anyway. I have learning a lot this summer, more than words can begin to describe and I have learned those things in bizarre place. Places like bars, street corners, and buses took the place of classrooms for me. The lessons weren't measurable either. The ones learned from hookers never are. I guess my heart has a long way to go from stopping at the red light and giving a man a chance, but I know one thing. I am called to MOVE. I am not merely waiting at the red sea in anticipation of my God fighting for me, I am invited to hold up a stick and lead people into the unheard of. I pray for the seas to part and for my soul to beat in such time with the God of the homeless that I walk across a rocky path into something that feels like home.

Fighting for Change

2009-08-09T19:59:00.000-07:00

I was listening to a friend of mine tell the story of his tattoo today. A story I'm almost certain he made up on the spot because the girl was cute. Regardless, the story was intriguing. He told of how it stood for change and not just a christian/non-christian way but in a "my family sucks and I want to change that for my relationships" type way. He concluded and the girl smiled and we all went our separate ways. On the way home I was listening to Fiction Family and this lyric emerged from one of the songs

There's war in my blood
I've still got wars to be won

I thought about how true that is and how true the story of the tree tattoo was. We are all fighting wars with our blood. I know I am. I'm fighting for something deeper and more transparent than what I got handed. I'm fighting for honesty and trying to forget how to lie. I'm fighting for depth over width and real conversations over casual comments. In the end, I'm not fully sure what I'm fighting for completely. I just know I'm fighting a war that is worth fighting. I'm sick and tired of fighting the war that isn't really going on, so I've given up on being right, I've retired from that fight and I have chosen instead to battle the blatant war at hand. I no longer need an alibi, because those are for the people that have chosen the wrong fight.

surprised by faith

2009-08-02T21:44:00.000-07:00

I'm tired and that isn't a metaphor. If I could sleep, I would. Instead I type. Sportscenter plays a sad song of a day wasted while the call of something deeper appeals to me from somewhere inside. I don't know what it has been about this summer, but something shifted. I began it teaching about faith from a stage and now I desire that faith from somewhere quiet and unexplored. I began praying when i was young, like most people do, but nothing changed. I still continued to pray. I prayed for random things too, like cool days and king size beds. I think I pray for better things now, but I'm not sure. Faith and prayer seem to go together, like fireflies and cool summer nights. I think they are equally as baffling too. I still like them. I like them better than baseball highlights at least, although, I can't explain them like I can a cycle in baseball. These days will mark a difference for me. It will mark a time that a prayer became a call to faith and faith left me on a cliff only to show me a side of the world I've never seen. It's a sweet thing when God surprises you. It's like finding enough change in your car to buy ice cream, only way better. I type that to say, I have been surprised. Somethings were majestic, like volcanoes and martyrs. Other things were subtle, like buses and sandwiches. Who knew the world could turn over in a summer.

Beloved

2009-07-15T11:04:00.000-07:00

Henri Nouwen has been a foreigner to me until now and maybe so has his message. For the span of my life, love has not come easy. Being loved has been even harder. I have a dear friend that always says that she is 'beloved.' I always wanted that to be true of myself, but could never fathom the idea that God could love me that way. It was fitting for her. I can think of no one that dislikes her and she is the easiest person in the world to love. I, however, stood on the outskirts of this promise to gaze candidly at lovers less wild. I thought they loved me, moved me, and even offered something of worth. They did not. Now, after years of false hope, my heart is melting from the consuming fire within me. I settled, day after day, for the lie that said the following (quoting Henri Nouwen).

You are what you do...
You are what people say about you...
You are what you have...

I have longed for these statement to be untrue and even argue of their absurdity, but at the end of the day swallowed them holistically. Mask make terrible faces and even heavier burdens to carry. I think about my friend, the one that is lovable and wonder where she is. In the end, it is of no matter, for wherever she is, she is loved and beloved all in the same. I wrestle to this end, that I might know the fullness of grace in my life. I labor to discover the beloved nature of a jacked up soul. I grapple to understand the depths and the wastefulness of mercy that has been lavished on me. All together, I stop. I stop trying to explain it all away and joyfully weep knowing I don't have to understand it for it to be true.

I am beloved because HE first loved and chose to cover me in it. It is unescapable, though I try. It is unthinkable, though I define. It is undeserved, though I still work as if it will matter. I thought seminary would answer all the question, but even as I write this in class, I am finding that it is merely a door opened to show the vastness of my unknowing.

Tales of a 3 A.M. Monologue

2009-05-31T21:00:00.000-07:00

3 A.M. has always been a friend of mine and tonight appears to be of no exception. I converse and wonder aloud the newfound mystery that is a sleepless night. I have no point here, only to masquerade the silence in my room and maybe the raging voices inside my head (insert comments about therapy at the bottom). I have to be honest, which is one of the reason I love 3 A.M. because it allows me to be that with no fear of tomorrow, and let you know that even as I type I'm googling images of masking tape. If I knew why, I would follow that sentence up with why but I will let it stand as a testament to the insomnia.

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Psalm 46:10

Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth."

Pull out the coffee mugs and get rid of them because chances are that any marketing ploy failed to put the whole verse on the item. I think we like it that way although I'm not sure why we would cheapen beauty. For most of my life, I have heard this verse in pieces. Most preachers belabor the point that we should be still and rest in God and usually tie it into a message about tithing and the sabbath. I am continually perplexed by why we would settle for half the verse. Maybe it makes us feel better. Maybe the idea that we could know God is as alluring as a shiny new pen or ever better. I like it, but my fear is that we have robbed the verse of its meaning. The verse doesn't take a breath, must less take a nap and fail to come back. The whole thing hinges on the inclusive idea that He is about something bigger.. Somehow knowing God means that we see His presence in all the earth. This has profound implications and runs out in hundreds of ways. Mainly, I think, we get a glimpse of what God is doing. We are offered rest and the unbelievable opportunity to know Him (which of course doesn't exist outside Chrisitanity) in order that we might know that He is moving among the nations. This is an invitation to see His LOVE and His MOVEMENT and even to be apart of it. This is an invitation to be broken, smattered (I think waffle house coined that but it fits) and jaded in His presence while experiencing his great purpose, to be exalted among the whole world. I think we sell out here when we chop off the second half. We take what is ours and ignore the rest. I think the verse is beckoning us to BE STILL and stop moving in a way that is exhaustive of meaningless doing, but if we stop there we miss the point. John Piper says that He is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him but let's be honest he stole that from the Roman Catholic Catechism. Our declaration that we have nothing to offer God and our hearts cry for Christ to be enough will magnify His glory in our lives and therefore shine an unending light to the darkest places on earth for His name. Why would we delude that into a selfish end all for ourselves? He is exalted among the earth, He is exalted among the nations should be the part we race to and not cut off. That is my hope, that we press into the idea that Christ wants our messiness to proclaim His sufficiency. He desires our jacked up versions and feeble attempts at life as a sacrifice for His renown and that only comes when we are still enough to soak in the gospel. Let's hug the second half for in reality we can not live in the first half if we have not committed to dying for the second.

In lighter conversations with myself at 3 in the morning
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Since Lebron James can't will his team to victory or even conjure up basketball miracle after miracle I have grown ever so weary of my new found NBA team crush.

I think double doors are the death of chivalry. It is impossible to open both doors without sumersaulting through the air in an acrobatic fashion to open set number two of the double doors without causing serious injury to both parties involved.

Sao Paulo in Black and White

2009-05-31T20:54:00.000-07:00

Bullhorn Guy

2009-05-22T11:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my friend Brandon and I were driving down this road and this kid had a bullhorn and he was "preaching" at the traffic. I have very little to say in the way of encouragement for this young lad. I admire passion and conviction even if it plays out as ignorance. I think we miss it though when we amplify a voice at cars, moving cars. I don't know what the hope was, maybe that someone driving 55 mph with a window down would hear the word repent, wreck the car, and suddenly realize the need for Jesus. I think there is a better chance he would realize the need for car insurance. 46% of unchurched people say Christians get on their nerves. I agree with those people. Here is an exert from Rob Bell's Nooma series that conveys more effectively the message of Love in light of bullhorn guy.

Don't you know sunshine is free...

2009-05-20T16:56:00.000-07:00

I have no vanity in writing these words, though I wish I did. I stand corrected or rather sit dumbfounded at brilliance. I am a skeptic of what I do not know, a critic of things I can't do, and a pleaser of people I barely believe in. Nothing makes sense until it does and then it gets gritty and messy. Life and people are like that.

I spent last week in the beautiful world of Brazil where from time to time I heard stories of salvation. When I say salvation, I mean the radical choosing of God and His acting in complete sovereignty by redeeming His people from themselves and to something greater. I heard these stories from missionaries and friends alike, but what unnerved me was not the stories but the means in which the stories came. One guy surrendered to Jesus while watching a televangelist, another at a power team event and still another at a "Heaven's Gates Hell's Flames" event. I say this because I am that skeptic that thinks that everything must have a formula. Salvation is exempt of a formula. I believe each one of these guys love Jesus with all they are and it is humbling and humiliating to think I cast a limited realm of possibility on a God that does the impossible. I have been sold the lie of cool Christianity when God exalts the message above all. I do not even want to say these things because it means that it is all out of my explanation. Maybe the work of salvation is the God's alone after-all and it doesn't matter how stupid the means may appear or how impure the motives are behind that event or means. It matters that God is moving.

Mourning

2009-05-17T21:17:00.001-07:00

This past week a youth of mine from back when I was on staff at FBC Lumberton was killed in a car accident. I haven't known how to feel for the last few days. Life doesn't give you time to mourn. I remember the night he gave his life to Christ as if it was my story, maybe somehow it is. I remember praying over that room and specifically his chair that I didn't know he would occupy begging God to move. God did. That night a punk kid surrendered his agenda and life to Jesus and began to walk in faith. It was a beautiful moment. I wept then and I weep now. I can only trust in sovereignty tonight and ask questions that may go unanswered. I rejoice in my time with him and rejoice now in his time with Jesus.

Skies and Street

2009-05-10T16:34:00.000-07:00

24 million people surround me tonight. A city on top of another city, poverty and wealth have found their shared home. Sao Paul0, home to 1 million college students spread out over 100 campuses. Shadows of hope live here too. For years Brazil has been an evangelized place, even a sending country, but the idea that there is an unreached people among the college community here is a dire reality. Less than 1% of college students surrender to the name of Jesus. Far more dance to the sounds of religion, but faith is dying. Faith always suffers at the hands of religion. It is a casualty that some have sought to fight against in a effort to proclaim what is true. The week holds a few surprises, but I'm thankful for the gospel tonight. I'm thankful that for some reason Jesus chased me and found me in the dirty trenches of life.

Passion or Poser

2009-01-27T23:09:00.000-08:00

There is this church in the Bible called the church at Sardis that desires this reputation for greatness. The only problem with the desire is a lack of action to accomplish what they want to be known for in the world. I watch videos like these and I'm so compelled, so moved to engage the world with everything I have. I even claim to be a catalyst in these types of movements, but I wonder sometimes if I'm not like the church at Sardis. I wonder if I just desire to be known for these things without actually doing them. It is a bit horrifying to think of our generation, so quick to start and join Facebook groups, so bold to stand on the street to fight for justice, but hauntingly distant from the battle grounds of injustice. It is true that it is easier to hold the sign that says stop the killing than to hold the bloody hands of the one dying. I guess it is also true that it is far more glamorous to be known for social actions than to be unknown because you are so saturated in that issue. John Piper once said that you don't have to know a lot of great things in the world, you just have to know one great thing and be set on fire by it. I think our world is waiting to see us burn.

Burn Out Bright

S.

Tired Bones and Obligations

2008-12-16T15:01:00.000-08:00

Sunday morning dawned with the arrival of another faithful sunrise. I pounced on my alarm clock and begged for 5 more minutes. However, heaters and obligations invited me down from my sleepy little loft only to offer me little time to make it to my first destination. I thought about sleeping in, calling the whole day off, and hoping no one would notice but then reality sank in and I remembered that someone always notices. It wasn't that I didn't want to live the day, but tired bones and late night promises spoke louder than excitement. I have come to love Sunday mornings. I have fallen in love with the stories it brings, but mostly I have chosen to love and choosing to love a place and people always outweigh the cost. Every so often, I show up early to the building where the people of Mosaic gather. We rent a space to gather and so each Sunday requires an array of arranging paintbrushes to put together what looks like a place people might gather. It isn't complicated, things like putting out parking signs, setting out chairs, and shifting coffee beans around are among the task. As I walked outside in the cold wind, thoughts consumed me. It happens that way when I'm alone. I began to think of why we do all this. Why did I get out of bed? Why did I volunteer to do these simple task? Would anyone notice or even care? I don't answer a lot of questions that roll through my head but these I thought were worth the journey. I once heard a pastor say, "You can't preach missions while you build the monster." The monster he was referring to was the enormous cost draining buildings that people flood to each Sunday morning, some mistaking it as the church. What I now think is that part of putting out a chair in a rental space on a Sunday morning is the belief that because we spend so little on our building we can and are giving more money to the most impoverished places on the planet. Part of showing up early and leaving exhausted each Sunday is clinging to the hope that we are building a better Kingdom than our own comfort. Part of doing is resting, and that rest comes in knowing that we aren't spending millions of dollars on stuff that won't last. Rather we are spending money and time on things that are eternal, things like clean water and the evangelizing of Africa. Maybe it cost me the extra five minutes of sleep and maybe it means the rest of my day is spent recovering, but if that means that someone lives and is offered the gospel I will gladly take the sacrifice, for if that is a sacrifice then it is one worth requesting.

My pastor spoke on giving more on this particular day and as I sat in the back I grinned at how tired bones and obligations turned into a restful soul and a life-changing opportunity.

"Don't spend millions building the temple here, but rather spend millions sending the new temple into the world." - David Platt

I have...

2008-12-03T09:24:00.000-08:00

This week alone I have sat across from those pondering abortion, those pondering if the "American Dream" is worth it, and those wondering if there was something more to the story. I have learned this week that Suburbia has entitled us to nothing, but rather condemned us to comfort. I have been somber at the thought of lost children, broken dreams, and bitter cold nights that leave people on the streets with no invitation to come in. I have been dared to move this week, given no thought to Christmas, and have tried to figure out how to justify luxury in view of poverty. I have stood before people this week to proclaim the truth of Christ and found myself pleading for them to count the cost. I have been reminded that every saint has a past and every sinner has a future. I have been more thankful for the mundane than ever before. I have forgone the attempt at perfect for the invitation of grace and found that dying leads to living. I have been wrecked at the reality that I have spent more time on Facebook than on my face in prayer. I have forgotten how the seconds steps go and longed for someone to show me how they go. I have attempted writing, building, and even changing, but have failed at all three. I have succeeded though, if only succeeded in being what I'm not. I have done more on my own than I should and have learned that faith is easy if you live with no needs. May having lead to longing, and may longing lead to finding.

Mosaic

2008-11-17T08:45:00.000-08:00

Last night I began to feel again what it is like to belong. I sat among 40 or so in a community of faith called Mosaic and swapped stories of Jesus and how He is changing all of us and the world around us. Rarely in my 26 years have a been in the midst of a people praying for change, worshiping through the stillness and rejoicing in the movement. It has truly become a place of rescue for a soul that was killed by religion and for what it is worth a place to smile at the thought of being alive. It is not a place that has solved the deep issues within, nor has it given me an easier road to take. Rather, it has been a place that has bubbled those issues to the surface so to face them in the light. It is a place that is continuing the fight against having more stuff but rather more of Christ. We are praying that God would kill everything that is not of Him and awaken our hearts to what His of Him. We are wresting with question, debating the answers and finding it ok to not be ok. We are collectively saying one thing, as a myriad of uniqueness, we want more of one thing, Jesus. We are saying that you can have all the programming and details if only we can have more of what satisfies. We are longing for streams of water in a dry and weary land. We are committing to spending the time in our prayer closets that it will take to proclaim this gospel hope. We are dreaming, believing, hoping, and clinging to what is true. We are hurting, struggling, questioning, and failing, but finding the grace of God to be enough. We are trying to be transparent, loving the journey, and challenging the ways in which we see more of our Savior on every level. We are poets, painters, prophets, bankers, students, office workers, designers, musicians, and the like. We are homeless to this world but celebrating the in-between. WE ARE MOSAIC.

Better Days

2008-11-14T22:13:00.000-08:00

And you asked me what I want this year
and I try to make this kind and clear
just a chance that maybe we'll find better days
'cause I don't need boxes wrapped in strings
and designer love and empty things
just a chance that maybe we'll find better days

So take these words and sing out loud
'cause everyone is forgiven now
'cause tonight's the night the world begins again

I need some place simple where we could live
and something only you can give
and that's faith and trust and peace while we're alive
and the one poor child who saved this world
and there's ten million more who probably could
if we all just stopped and said a prayer for them

So take these words and sing out loud
'cause everyone is forgiven now
'cause tonight's the night the world begins again

I wish everyone was loved tonight
and somehow stop this endless fight
just a chance that maybe we'll find better days

So take these words and sing out loud
'cause everyone is forgiven now
'cause tonight's the night the world begins again

'cause tonight's the night the world begins again

-Johnny Rzeznik

Casting

2008-11-12T21:29:00.000-08:00

Growing up, it seemed that every message I ever heard from any pastor or youth pastor told me to forget all of my problems and cares and come worship Jesus. It never made sense to me that I was to shed all my hurts and struggles at the door and come hear about a God that offered a solution for those things. I began wondering out loud why I had to check the baggage at the door to come before a God that wanted to carry the bags. It has become a beautiful discovery that God Most High has invited us to the cross and He has asked us to bring all the crap. He has given the promise of redemption for anyone that dares to embrace the cross. He has not promised health wealth or prosperity, but He has offered his yoke for ours. He has stated plainly to come and kneel before a blood soaked cross that you don't deserve and He will take your junk and HE will heal your broken soul. Redemption is here!

He gives and take away

2008-11-12T21:06:00.001-08:00

Monday became unnerving before it redeemed itself after night fall. While I was sitting in class discussing the facets of fasting among a group of about eight, one of the guys got a call from his pregnant wife saying that they couldn't find the baby's heartbeat. She would call back a few minutes later to confirm the worst. Our hearts sank and throats closed up. What do you do in those moments? What do you say?

That same day, later in the night I received a text message from a dear friend informing me of the birth of their baby girl. I have to admit, in the middle of celebration I began to wrestle with the contrast of the day. The ever true and ever hard to swollow lyric, "He gives and takes away" weighed on my heart like a anvil that refused to fight gravity. How do I balance a life taken and a life given mere miles apart? How do I gauge the lonely in light of the elated?

I'm finding life to be messy and uneasy and I'm finding that breathing is a gift that carries no promise of another. I'm learning to lean into truth and chew on it. I'm finding God to be good in the middle of the night. I'm finding Christ to be enough even when I think HE isn't. I'm finding depth over width is the key and I'm discovering that to starve is to feast.

quoting

2008-10-06T21:01:00.000-07:00

"May our public passion never exceed our private devotion"

- Beth Moore

"History is silent with the stories of revivals that began without prayer"

Remember the time...

2008-10-05T17:58:00.000-07:00

Conversation are never profound until something inside of them erupts from eternity. I found myself in one of those conversation this weekend. One where I reflected on the past and the brilliance of Christ in moments that I struggled for air, not to mention words. It was a few short minutes of raising my Ebeneezer in remembrance of the times that Christ reached down into the depths of darkness and overcame it with light.

Seven years ago I signed up to be a youth pastor at a small, dying country church. The most exciting thing that happened during any week was the latest drama from the church secretary and the chairman of the deacons, both well into there seventies. As a 19 year old punk kid standing before more punk kids the scenario was doomed to fail and after weeks of mundane messages it appeared that that was exactly what was going to happen. Then, every so subtly the dawn broke and sparked something that to this day is unexplainable. It was rich and deep, but still noticeable. We began to see students surrender their lives to Christ and start living out the unbelievable life of walking in the ways of Jesus.

About two years after I walked out of the doors with permission from the deacons and most everyone over the age of 50, I sat in my car with one of my old youth. Now a friend, we both pondered and shared stories of what happened during our time there. After a few moments of silence, I asked my friend, "What in the world did I say week after week?" knowing that it wasn't anything profound or theologically sound in most cases. My friend thought for a moment and responded with something that continues to drive my life. She said, "I don't remember anything you said........ but I remember that you said it with passion." I started to believe that day, that passion trumps answers. I could list five sermons out of the literally tens of thousands I have heard in my life, but I could spot passion from across the ocean. I was destine to fail as a 19 year pretending to have a clue but I found the words of a popular saying to be true even when I didn't know it was a dream.

"Go after a dream that is destine to fail without divine intervention."

leaving and returning...

2008-10-03T08:50:00.000-07:00

I've never been one to land on words easily, especially in times such as these. I like that though. It feels like coming home every time I sit and write, as if words could be family in itself. I've spent the last couple of weeks with words circling in my head but never really landing. I've come to think that maybe things aren't suppose to land fully, that maybe the dust from the chase of such words is the answer. Even today, I don't completely lean into understanding or confidence, but I do lean. I don't find myself sleeping comfortably, but I find that I have a bed and I don't commit to understanding it all, but I do commit to the rise and fall during the journey. I say that meaning that for years I have wrestled with the idea or question that if God never did anything else in my life that looked like a blessing to me, would what HE has done be enough. I answer that with a whimsical whisk of the finger on the good days, but the good days aren't really the test. I long to be the guy in Habakkuk 3:17 that proclaims that whether there is food or not, his hands are lifted high to worship the ONE who has DONE it. I think it is a dangerous place to be, always looking for the next blessing, breathing in and out the whole wait. It says about myself that the cross was good for awhile, but I need something else, something tangible, some relevant. How dare we ever become so far sighted as to not see the past. I'm learning, giving the world a long look over and counting the losses as I fight for the beautiful picture of the cross in all that I do.

On the road to nothing

2008-09-14T19:45:00.000-07:00

"I want my theology to be wrecked at the expense of my answers and for the gain of HIS glory."

C.S. Lewis once wrote that he believed in the sun not only because he could see it, but by it he could see everything else. He goes on to write that he felt the same was true for God.

So how do you wake up and question the very thing that you see every because of? How do you wrestle with the seemingly obvious? When does He show up or rather how does He show up if He is always present?

I have been reminded or better worded haunted these past few days of all that I know to be true. It is funny to haunted by the good inside of me rather than the evil that ever-surrounds me. I will take that haunting though. The one that creeps inside your head to explain nothing and shows itself to the door only to close it for a longer stay.

madness

2008-09-13T21:01:00.000-07:00

Crinkling paper sends me crashing to the brink of desperation while cataclysmic tears race down my face. This isn't a world that I thought I would find myself in, not after this long. It was never suppose to end this way. It was suppose to find a way to survive, a way to live on past the usual and not just live, shine. I guess these past few days have felt more like dying than living and more like gasping for air than breathing deeply. Maybe we all find ourselves in those moments, the ones that hurt more than you want them to, the moments that invite you to stick around when all you desire is the door.

I've spent the days doubting more than trusting, letting go more than hanging on. I have wasted sleep asking unanswerable questions and turned the lights off on all that once made sense. I have wondered at times in my life if my prayers just hit the ceiling, I think we all have from time to time. This week, I have more than wondered. I have been perplexed at a world that I usually have an answer for. I have been trip by gravity that I usually dance with and I have been shown darkness when I have pleaded for light. Open the curtains and stand aside because tomorrow will come in the very same way that today went out. I spin around the endless cycle of thoughts in my head just to remember a time when life came easier and my pillow seemed cooler.

questioning

2008-09-11T08:40:00.000-07:00

I use to believe in the Lord, but He don't show up anymore. - Augustana

Sometimes I have massive problems with this lyric and then there are other days, like this one that I can feel the weight of it and even lean into it.

Far we have come, Far we must go

2008-09-09T11:07:00.000-07:00

We are creatures of comfort.
We like to be safe and secure
to be surrounded by what we know
to be in control
to order our lives in the way that suits us.

We want our journeys mapped out for us
itinerary decided, tickets booked
time of arrival guaranteed
refreshment breaks at regular intervals
and a credit card for unforeseen circumstances.

But Jesus said ‘follow me’ without saying where he was going
just promising transformation along the way.

The Israelites in the desert, rescued from slavery and oppression,
were tired and homeless, hungry and thirsty, insecure and unsettled.
And their minds went back to what they had known.
They yearned for the structure of predictable slavery rather than the broken walls of unknown freedom.

Liminal space is the place of inbetweenness, of insecurity.
It is the Israelites in the wilderness,
it is Paul blind in Damascus waiting for Ananias.
Liminal space is emptiness and nowhere,
it is uncertainty and chaos,
it is a place of discomfort and unrest.
Liminality is a place of dying and rebirth, of metamorphosis, the place where the caterpillar spins its cocoon and disappears from view.

Nothing good or creative emerges from business as usual. Much of the work of God is to get people into liminal space and to keep them there long enough so they can learn something essential.

This is the invitation of God, to move
- from comfort to insecurity
- from what we know to what we have yet to discover
- from what we are good at to what we might fail at
- from safety to a place of risk
God of broken people and broken places
We confess to you our love of comfort,
of the known and predictable,
of the safe and secure.
We recognise that you call us into liminal space
To leave what we know and venture with you into desert and wilderness, into blindness and discomfort
We want to follow you, but it’s hard to leave what we know
Help us to trust you, and to set out.

On the journey of faith,
Far I have come, far I must go

God of broken people and broken places
We thank you for all that Grace has been to us and to many others
We thank you for the space to listen, to grow, to create, to be challenged
We recognise that you are calling us on
To leave what we know and venture with you into new things, into engagement and participation, into creativity and risk, into new structures and opportunities
We want to follow you, but it’s hard to leave what we know and we’re not sure where we’re going
Help us to trust you, and to set out.

On the journey of faith,
Far we have come, far we must go.

God of rebuilt people and rebuilt places
You have plans for deserts and wilderness
‘Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert.
The burning sand will become a pool,
The thirsty ground bubbling springs.
In the haunts where jackals once lay,
Grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.
And a highway will be there; it will be called the Way of Holiness.’

God of transformation we look forward to what you will do
With our lives and with Grace

On the journey of faith,
Far we have come, far we must go.

xylophones and zebras

2008-09-05T21:42:00.000-07:00

My starbucks cup for the night stated that growing up the abc's gave all of us reason to believe that xylophones and zebras were much more common that they actually are. Its true, things that get the most stage time often are the ones distant from reality or at least common reality. I thought about when I was growing up and I heard a great deal about Grandness of God and the moments that take your breath away. I never heard about the days that left you wondering or the moments that ran away from explination. The former seemed more like zebras to me than the latter. The latter was the apples, bananas, and cats of the alphebet. I don't think it take anything away from those moments either. If things are rare, they are often what is pined after the most. I do think that we have hidden the tough things of this faith in a sea of sugar only to find that the hard days are the ones living us breathless.

Hiding

2008-09-04T09:14:00.000-07:00

Back in college, I went to one of my best friends and simply asked him if there was any area of my life that I needed to work on to be a Godlier man. I gave him a free pass to fire away and unload the truth about all that was wrong inside my soul. Much to my surprise on that day, he leaned backed in his chair, thought to himself for a moment and said, “I can’t think of anything man.” I walked out of his office that day satisfied with my self-pious approach to life. Apparently, I thought, I had it all together.
Five years from that day, I realize that I don’t have it all together but rather on that day the only reason my friend found nothing to pounce on was because I was guarded enough for him not to see through the mask. It is frightening the we choose a false sense of acceptance over grace not realizing that grace is the beginning of acceptance. The gospel has never been, get it all together and then come to Jesus. The gospel is that you and I are jacked up and we are accepted through the blood of the cross and there is no amount of hiding our true lives that would keep us from that love.
I have been apart of a group of believers that would led people to believe that there is some sort of moral code to get Jesus. I have stood on the outskits of judgemental glances at what people wore and what people said. The reality of the gospel is, is that no one deserves the cross, but is is extended to everyone. I have also been around the opposite side of that view with people that believe that the gospel and the blood spattered cross of Christ gives you some license to do whatever you want and to say whatever you want. What the Bible would say, is that there is a certain "freedom" in Christ. It is a freedom from those things, a freedom from sin and a life lived for the world. I heard a pastor say that the cross gives you the freedom to do the right thing. I agree with that and while I jacked it up every day, I find rescue in a gospel that lingers far beyond the mess.

Everyone Lies

2008-08-29T21:09:00.000-07:00

I sit to write tonight not because I want to, but because I have to. I realize that last sentence isn't correct grammar, but sometimes life is like that. Sometimes life is messy and not neatly wrapped up and delivered to you with a smile. Sometimes you have to do things when you don't want to do them. Sometimes people lie to your face and other times they just turn around to do it. The great theologian Dr. Gregory House once wrote, "Everyone lies." I agree with him. It isn't that we don't know we are lying. We purposefully resist the truth and opt for the less truthful of the options. I lie, although not as much as I use to lie. I think it is like detoxing a little, like you want to lie, but something good overcomes it all and you start speaking what is true. I use to lie to get my way, now I lie because I'm not sure which way is the right one so I blur the lines between the two.

I sat across the table from my friend tonight as he unpacked a lie that someone had issued to my face. I think grace still abounds in the moments that you are the one that has been wronged. It seems that pastors and politicians alike want grace and preach grace...until it is them that have to smile in the face of it. I do though. I don't think I'm the one that hurts the worse from it. I think that person is. I don't wish great harm on them, like lightning to strike them or wild turkeys to ram sake their living room, but it is in these times that I have no idea what to do. I usually have answers and if I don't I make up some, but what do you do in the face of defiance. I could fake a smirk or bury under all the other hurt. Who knows what I will do with it. I do know that it feels good to be detoxing and letting go of all the plans to find they never really existed anyway.

What's in a name?

2008-08-28T18:09:00.000-07:00

I live in a town where it takes years for people to know your name and days for them to forget it. I refuse to play politics too. People dance around the ring of personal gain to find friends around this town. Since when did who you know trump Who you belong to? I'm excluding my non-christian friends in this one. In the "christian" world that is Nashville I see us running around to the next meeting that just might land us where we want to be. Not often enough do people lean desperately into the arms of the one that told us not to worry about tomorrow. Maybe we are all too busy securing tomorrow to heed the words of scripture.

I have begun to ask new question in my walk in knowing Christ more deeply. Does it matter more to know someone that knows someone or to spend that time investing in scripture? Could it be possible to dance around the political who's who game in exchange for dancing to a song of hope?

Karma vs. Grace

2008-08-27T14:43:00.001-07:00

It is true that it is easier for me to believe in Karma than in the gospel of grace. For years I have sensed this looming cloud over my heart that dares to challenge the depth of Christ love. I have in a sense exchanged freedom for the chains of a moral law more often then I would like to admit. When things in my life don't go exactly how they are suppose to go then I find myself retracing steps taken throughout the day or week to find where I brought this on myself. I, in a way, find myself at the door of the temple trying to offer a sacrifice to a God that has long desired for something more and has long closed the doors of an alter that accepts meaningless offerings. I still try though. I say things like, "if only I had prayed more" or "if I would have spend more time in the Word then things would work out or this would not have happened." I think about the moral law that suggest that what I do is more important than exalting what Christ has done. In the end I try to swing this whole thing in my favor while the sun still revolves without explanation over my head. I commit to trying harder instead of dying more and it could not be farther from where our God longs for us to rest.

Then I read the words of Jesus in Matt. 5 when he talks about causing the sun to rise on the evil and the good and sending the rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. My heart begins to wrestle with the reality that this gospel of grace is true. It is true that he desires mercy over sacrifice and He cares far more for the caring for the poor and the oppressed than my empty words. If He sends rain on those who don't even acknowledge His name then it would be a far cry to bit the bait of a gospel based on merit or worth. Let's be honest, if I got what I really deserved from all my failures it would look a lot worse than my car not starting and if all my good works are but filthy rags then I should fall on my face in gratitude that I ever get a glimpse of the cross much less covered by its blood.

Leaving...

2008-01-08T20:13:00.000-08:00

Leaving seldom celebrates ease. As I say my last goodbyes here in the states I cherish each moment. Many times over the weeks I have found tears and joy holding hands at the marriage of passion going forth, but never without a lump in my throat. Over the last week I have been silient, mostly by choice, sometimes by the overwhelming thought of it all. Even as I type, my view clouds with water. No one leave without ties and for me it is a reminder of all the memories that created this heart, the heart that now clings to a distant land in an endless hope for a world that is less dark.

I write this to you now to remind all of us that as we set our hearts on ONE thing as people, to collectively make the name of Christ as loud as possible, that something grand has erupted inside of us all. Maybe somehow we could dive head first into the glorious mysteries of HIS presence. I sleeplessly wonder sometimes what it would be like for a group of people to stand for truth and justice in a world that has lost the definition. Most people stand at a casual distance to this Jesus expecting a hand out. Truth is, He held two out. Funny how people want money over redemption. I think about times with each of you and smile at the reality that every now and then, we got it. We got the beautiful picture of grace and mercy holding hands with our brokenness through the blood of Christ. Those are the moments that most people will pine for their entire lives. It is indeed the moments that I continue to long and fast after with my life. Captivating is the story of imperfection meeting living water. The promise was life, never fame. How sad that anyone would want the lights over the resurrection. I guess we all do it though, trading eternity for a cheap fix. Daunting is the task that all may experience HIS glory, but we labor to this end. Thank you guys for being flesh and blood to the gospel. I will take each of you to Africa with me. I will exclaim that Jesus lives not only because I have known it to be true in my life alone, but because I have seen the light in each of you. SHINE ON! I thank you for the passing of mile markers that have lead me to this brink. I thank you for laughter that invaded my heart and will carry over oceans and blaze through deserts. I thank you for the joy that no one has yet to explain and will never come close to defining. I thank you for the mundane nights that seemed special because we breathed the same cold air. I thank you for the tears that reminded me that I was human and sang louder the song of forgiveness. I thank you for labeling people under a massive umbrella of grace and for choosing to hold onto faith in the midst of chaos. The list goes and so does the tangled story of our lives that has led us to this day.

Far we must go
S.

Worlds Apart

http://www.mygazines.com/issue/6001/39

Ode to Orlando

writing for the clouds

Flooding

Sleepless Banter

Q Series

The day is dawning...

Blue Moons and Sam Adams

Fighting for Change

surprised by faith

Beloved

Tales of a 3 A.M. Monologue

Sao Paulo in Black and White

Bullhorn Guy

Don't you know sunshine is free...

Mourning

Skies and Street

Passion or Poser

Tired Bones and Obligations

I have...

Mosaic

Better Days

Casting

He gives and take away

more questions...

quoting

Remember the time...

leaving and returning...

On the road to nothing

madness

questioning

Far we have come, Far we must go

xylophones and zebras

Hiding

Everyone Lies

What's in a name?

Karma vs. Grace

Leaving...