Brandon Moore's blog

2006-07-12T08:22:00.000-07:00

I can only know God in how he reveals himself to me. I can't just study God on my own terms or diagnose God based upon objective observations. God is to me and my understanding, only how He has revealed himself to be. This doesn't limit God, though it does limit my understanding of him.

He has revealed himself through nature, through His word, through humans, and, most passionately, through Christ. (The book I'm reading now called Christ plays in 10,000 places talks about many other areas where God is revealed.) So any understanding or comprehension of God is seen through these lenses, and I cannot understand God without these lenses. Yet God exists beyond all these lenses, as their creator, and He is not limited to our own limitations of His understanding.

We understand this when we speak of God's omniscience, omnipresence, and omnipotence. We understand that God is to big to be grasped, as well as we can grasp it anyway. Yet in the last few weeks I have struggled with something along these same lines, yet different.

We accept that God is limitless, but forget that just as he is limitless so are the qualities that he has poured upon this world. In Hosea God speaks concerning his mercy and love for the adultress Israel. He says in chapter 11,

"My heart is changed within me;

all my compassion is aroused.

I will not carry out my fierce anger,

nor will I turn and devastate Ephraim.

For I am God, and not man."

Though our understanding of God's mercy and love is limited to only that which he has revealed to us, he is not limited by these same graces. Though I can only comprehend mercy through it's interaction on a human level, which is beautiful to tears as we experience it, how much greater is the mercy and love that is being poured upon this world by a God who has no limits. Just as Paul prays concerning the church in Ephesus,

"And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love,

may have power, together with all the saints,

to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ,

and to know this love that surpasses knowledge-

that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God."

2006-07-06T17:31:00.000-07:00

Come and sit on the back porch with me. The breeze is slight on this summer evening, but the sun is too busy playing through the clouds to heat the air. The grass is green and feels good on bare feet. Tree's stand nearly still, only occasionally shifting their weight in discomfort. There is a noisy silence all around. Chorused by crickets, birds, a distant mower. Muted with my long, deep breath.

"Is this part of my faith?" I ask as I catch a rabbit stirring out of the corner of my eye. I watch him nibble about the grass.

"Am I just eating the grass?" The question sounds dumb as I release, and the look on your face says that you agree. But you are too kind to say anything and the silence once again drifts over us.

I disturb the silence once again, but this time with just the beginning of a word. I'm not exactly sure what to say, but I need response and I need dialogue. So I begin anyway.

"Do you ever feel like God's just packaged?" Your look tells me to explain. "Sometimes I just feel like I've bought God how I wanted him. Then I put him in a pretty package with a cool new label, and now I'm trying to sell him, but only as the way I bought him to begin with, only now he's better. Does that make any sense?" You don't say anything. You don't have to. I know it doesn't make any sense.

"Like God's an old Mustang with a big V8, but the body is a little rusty and the paint has faded. And there's no CD player, but it's still cool cause it's an old Mustang. Are you following me?" I don't wait for a reply. "And I've given the 'stang a new paint job, and restored all the parts and Bondoed the rust. I'm in the middle of putting in a new system, and I'm debating whether it's right to put subs in a classic car or not? But the car looks awesome, and it drives beautifully. I cruise down the street and people look at me. And that V8 has a lot of power." I sit up on the edge of my seat and look at you as my words flow out faster. "I know not everyone likes Mustangs, but if they get in mine I know they'll like it, cause how could they not like it. It's classic and cool. It's ancient and modern."

I let the words slip of my tongue, and slide back deeper into my seat. You still don't say anything, and you're just looking into the clouds. I don't know if you don't want to have this conversation, if you're thinking about what I said, or if you're just thinking I'm an idiot.

I slip in during the bark of a dog across the yard. "I just don't want to make God into my Mustang, because then he's just another idol I worship. You know what I mean?"

You wish you were a youth intern! Post #1

2006-06-16T11:07:00.000-07:00

Well if I'm going to do this whole intern thing this summer you're gonna do it with me!

Today I woke to the sound of my own groaning. Still feeling nauseas from bad McDonalds I'd had two days before, I stumble into the shower and then into my clothes. Cargo shorts, a T-shirt, and sandles. "Maybe I am becoming a youth minister." I thought to myself as I grabbed my keys and headed out the door of someone elses house that I was temporarily calling home. I clocked in as I pulled into the parking lot of the middle school. To help with my nausea I had committed to attending an eight grade Jazz Band concert, and watching my friend Chris blow his horn. What I was unaware of was that the show choir as well as the seventh grade Jazz Band was performing before Chris took the stage.

The show choir entered to the tune of "footloose" while twirling, spinning, and sometimes chasing hula hoops. As this was taking place, a sweet older woman politely informed the audience that they could all get in shape by doing this simple hula hooping workout. Immediately images of the parents and grandparents around me dancing to "footloose" with their color coordinated hula hoops and spandex outfits filled my mind. I put my head down in shame at my laughter. After a pleasent applause was a slow ballad to which the show choir did some sort of choreography that brought flashes of Napoleon Dynamite and "the rose."

After a half hour of Showchoir there was a leisure switch to the seventh grad Jazz band. The room continued to grow hotter. Midway through the concert I found myself sitting in the wrong section as the show choir quietly (well as quiet as junior high kids can be) began filling the empty seats that surrounded me. Behind me, in front of me, and on either side of me sat Junior High girls who didn't even wait to take a breath before they entered into conversation concerning who liked who, and who was hot vs. cute. I was now sweating in the heat, and begging for shots of Maalox. Another half hour of sqeaky saxaphones and flat trumpets came to a close in a round of applause.

Enter the eight grade Jazz band, glowing in their superiority as the oldest and undoubtely most talented band present in the room. They banged out Jazz beat after Jazz beat, and Chris nailed five solo's, one of which was improv. Afterward I went to talk to him, and a huge smile painted his face. "You, my man, are a stud." I said while giving him a fist bang and nodding my head in appreciation. We chatted for a minute about his solo's and the rest of the concert. As I was walking out he shouted, "Brandon thanks for coming, we'll hang out lata!"

I don't know exactly what God wants of me this summer, but you know Chris may not remember a single class I teach this summer, but his smile told me he'll remember me being at his concert. Sometime I forget that I don't share Christ just when I'm preaching or teaching, but sometimes just when I'm present and listening.

Tommorrow I get up at 6:30 and leave for Uplift at Harding with 12 teenagers.

2006-06-15T09:51:00.000-07:00

Did you hear the new information on constipation?

NO?

Thats cause it hasn't come out yet!

2006-06-14T09:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went on a drive with my grandpa, just me and him. We drove through rolling fields speckled with fresh bails of hay and cut by creeks hidden in tree lines. He showed me where he grew up and we drove through the little down of Philadelphia (MO), where he traded eggs and milk for supplies. He showed me the house where my great-aunt lived her entire life, and where second and third cousins live now. But it wasn't just places, it was names and relationships.

Yet the conversation changed. I don't know how, but he talked like I'd never heard him talk before. I don't know if it was him getting older and wanting to share what he knows, or me getting older and finally being able to listen, but either way his words were real and wise.

First he talked about love. He said to not worry about it, it will come. And it will hit you out of nowhere and you won't be able to think or speak or even breathe. He said it will change everything you want and how you want to get it. And I thought about him loving my grandma like that, and the way I looked at him changed just a bit.

Then he talked about how to live. I was expecting something about hardwork or being dedicated or whatever, but he said something I didn't expect. He said life is about relationships. It's about knowing people and laughing and having a good time with them. He said it's about surrounding yourself with honest, good people, and being the kind of person that deserves to be friends with them.

A year ago this week I wrote about being empty. Being totally dry and drained. A year ago I talked about relationships only letting you down, only being dissapointing.

God is faithful. He doesn't abonden us. He won't leave us empty or dissapointed. He teaches us who we are, and fills our lives with people that always remind us of that.

As we drove, my grandpa spoke, and I listened.

2006-06-06T12:53:00.000-07:00

VACATION BIBLE SCHOOL!!!

It started on Sunday. There were over 60 kids in attendace, which was a pretty good number for this Church. So here is my top ten list from the first few days of VBS.

10. Getting to wear a mexican sombrero in the church building (the theme is a fiesta.)

9. All you can eat cookies and red Kool-aid (if you can sneak them by the snack ladies!)

8. Getting to be partners with Riley (he's my best friend, he's five) during game time.

7. Waterballoons.

6. Watching little face intricately place tissue paper on glue during craft time.

5. Playing follow the leader with three year old Andrew. At one point we laid down upon the grass and he pointed up to the moon, which was just starting to show. I asked him what he thought about the moon, and he informed me that the moon was where aliens lived. I later found out that the aliens are green and have big heads and little body's so we shouldn't be scared of them. Good thing cause I was starting to get worried.

4. Hearing kids answer bible questions at the end of the night. There is something spectacular about the word of good from a 7 year olds perspective, maybe we should all keep it.

3. Singing. You try and sing "I'm in the Lord army" alongside 60 very loud little voices singing and marching in between pews and not smile. It's impossible.

2. After being totally exhausted after a long night, getting to just relax in a folding chair in the busy annex and hold 3 month old Kolby. We both just chilled and watched all the excitement around us.

1. Forgetting my age, and remembering how to approach the Lord. "Can I sit on your lap?"

2006-05-30T14:50:00.000-07:00

It’s lonely.

A hundred voices speaking from a hundred people surround bring only silence.

The touch of hands and skin feel as only dust.

Ice cold, spring fed water drinks only thirst.

Spacious star-drenched night skies light only darkness.

The drenching summer sun warms only bitter cold.

A smile on a newborn child lives to only die.

Heart pounding, deep breath moments fill only time.

Overflowing, out-pouring abundance spend only emptiness.

Without Him it’s lonely. Every sunset and sunrise that composes this world is void, and every relationship, every friendship, every love is null.

Without Him it’s only silence, but with Him the world fills in harmonious chorus.

So I rise to dance with the voices and the touches. So I rise to dance refreshed by the water, under the night sky or in the warmth of the sun. I rise to dance to the laugh of a newborn. In the moments and abundance I rise to dance.

2006-05-26T10:23:00.000-07:00

James Lochman set the large basket in front of me on the table as the children gathered close all with wide open eyes peering into the basket. Jesse pulled out the first large arrowhead. "I found this one," he said while he gently place it in my hand. I felt the point of the arrowhead sharp against my finger and it's chiseled sides smooth like they'd been meticulously sanded. The basket was full of other carefully crafted masterpieces and one by one I felt through all of them, in awe of the number and quality of the arrowheads. There were also three axe heads, each perfectly balanced and still sharp even after many years burried under the ground.

James explained that about five years ago his brother and he were plowing the top ridge of their land, getting ready to plant alfalfa for the coming season. As he was walking behind the plow he spotted a sharp looking stone in the newly turned soil and he bent down to find the first arrowhead. From then on as they would plow the field, they would also search the ground for these curious elements that told the history of the hillside. They had found one after another until their collection was quite impressive.

They weren't sure why they had found so many, but there were many well developed theories. One theory was that the hillside had been a burial ground where the indians laid their ancestors to rest. Another theory was that there had been a battle there and thats why so many arrowheads were lying in one particular area. There was the guess that it was just a common camping ground and over hundreds of years the arrowheads had just collected. This also would better explain the massive axe heads. James had taken the axe heads down to a specialist, who had explained how they were strapped to a carved wooden handle with leather strips.

I think this story can tell us a lot about the church and how we interact with tradition and history.

Notice how the arrowheads were found. Not by simply walking around searching for them, and hoping to happen upon them. Instead they were working for the future. Preparing the fields for a harvest. While turning over the land that had layed the same for many years in order that it may grow something, they had searched for these pieces of the lands history.

The church should be focused the same way. The field should not be left dormant. We should be preparing it to be planted. We should be working our land, our history, turning it over so that it is valuable again. It's through this process that in our land, our history, we will find arrowheads, precious markers of what happened before.

We don't leave the field empty, and we don't toss the arrowheads aside. Instead we interact with both, using them to guide us as we work towards His harvest.

2006-05-23T07:34:00.000-07:00

Well I have started my summer internship. I'm living with an amazing family named the Lochman's, who are actually distant cousins of mine. They live in an old farm house in the country. There are chickens, cows, ducks, dogs, cats, horses, and kids. Five kids to be exact. The kids are all under 13, and they are more fun than I know what to do with. It has been such a gift of God to get to stay first with this family. So here are just a few stories so far. . .

Riley is five. A perfect five. He is hilarious and currently spends most of his day on my back!!! The first morning I woke up and he was right there next to me face to face. He looked up at me and whispered, "are you awake? Because my mom said I couldn't wake you up until you were awake." I laughed in my sleepy kind of way, and he rolled with giggles!

Jesse is 13 and always has a smile on his face. He gets up at dawn every morning and milks the "milk cow." He knows more about farming than I know about anything. He walked me through his garden, and through rows of peas and beens he told me everything I need to know about starting a garden. He currently has 13 huge rows of peas. And we are tied at chess one game a piece.

Bo is two years old. She is less a person and more an angel. She prefers to use only two words, "Bo and yeah" and it is surprising how many sentences she can form from those two words. Well yesterday she added one more word to her vocabulary, my name!!! But the best thing about Bo is that she will sit on your lap and let you read as many books as you want to her until she falls asleep.

God is in family. He created them, and he inspires them. And I thank Him that I've been allowed to be a temporary part of the Lochman's.

2006-05-18T21:02:00.000-07:00

I'm never prepared to deal with doubt. It sneaks it so subtly. I never see it coming. One moment I'm walking on water looking straight into His eyes, and then in a blink I'm drowning. Screaming for helping and desperately flailing my arms, while I slowly sink futher into my own coffin. With one last starved breath I hold on to all the air my lungs can handle and my eyes search through chaos for just a glimpse of any hope. In despair they slowly close, and with acceptance my movement stills.

I should end there. I should be done. Back to the dust from which I was created. I should become something so far from my present reality that it is completely inconcievable in my own mind.

Nonexistent.

The weight of that word! To not do, not see, not think. To not be. There is no present, no future, no past. No memory, and no memories. No hope, and no realization of hopelessness. Nothing.

So I sit in a half dark room, as one dim light reaches shadows across painted walls and mirrored windows. My body is tired and achy, and my eyes keep getting heavier.

And doubt sneaks in like the winter wind on a deep snowy night. It's facade whispers gently in my ear, and slowly it's voice grows stronger and bolder. Now it's yelling at me in the silence of this night.

His hand like a bolt of lightning in dark sky cuts through the water. It finds me exactly where I'm sinking. Grabbing me it tugs me upward, and my eyes explode open. They fight to find focus through the confusion and when they do, they become fixed.

There was no doubt in His work, he created me to exist. And when I fought against that, he saved me to exist. And when still it wasn't enough, he loved me to exist. And then he just reached down and grabbed me to exist.

2006-05-16T13:05:00.000-07:00

WOW!!! What a year. Another one done, and another one starts. And I'm here. Right where I'm suppose to be when I start a new year. In the midst of my family, playing scrabble, watching the Cardinals win, and, of course, eating way too much food! I love being home. It's about laughing at my hilarious brother Carden, while he goes off on some pointless, retarted ramble that has us all crying cause we're laughing so hard. It's about talking with my sister when everybody else has gone to bed. Just me and her telling about our lives in the light from the t.v., knowing that we'll always be there for each other. It's about watching my dad aimlessly wander throughout out the house, just trying to figure out where he is. It's about me constantly picking his mind trying to grasp just a little bit of what he knows. It's about beating up my little brother Shane. No matter where we're at, the living room, the yard, the car, the middle of the women's underwear aisle at Kohls, dropping him to his butt while I harass him into laughter. It's about cooking and shopping with my mom. Chatting about everything while we find the best deal, or argue about what to season with. It's about sitting around the dinner table. All of us together, the food all gone and the dishes left to do, but we're still sitting, talking, laughing, loving.

They know me. I mean they really know me. All my good points, all my little picky habits, all my hopes, all my heartbreaks. They know me. All my faults and failures. Everything that is suppose to make them not like me. Yet they love me. That's why I always come home and start here. To remember who I am. To remember that I don't have to be anyone else. Just me, and I'll still be loved.

2006-05-09T10:45:00.000-07:00

i let the haze of the rain
backdrop those hazel eyes
and saw the love i poured
upon her beautiful life
come to bloom in that
sweet drenched smile
let go i said
gently under the mist
and i saw
in a long last look
the future of her smile
and the warmth she
would pour on this world
shine
in the rain
like you've been loved
shine
like you are loved
unconditionally
unsurpassed
by the ultimate lover

2006-05-07T08:27:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's just a cloudy day when it should be sunny.

Today for example. Today isn't a cloudy day. I got up too early for a cloudy day. Steaming coffee with my best friend before church was to perfect for a cloudy day. Worship was too amazing for a cloudy day. The sermon was way too powerful for a cloudy. There were too many smiles on too many people I love for a cloudy day. I saw Christ too cleary this morning for a cloudy day.

Yet it's cloudy.

Today is my last day of work for three months and it's cloudy. I plan on going fishing, studying, and taking a run in the cool night, but it's cloudy. I get to go to my grandparents this week, and I GET TO GO HOME THIS WEEK!!! Still it's cloudy.

Then again maybe it is sunny.

2006-05-03T21:28:00.000-07:00

I'm still out of breath and sweating from my run, but all that I could think about while I was running tonight was writing about running tonight.

It's a warm, humid night that is meant for running. My steps are steady as the rhythm that the crickets laid upon the evening. My feet are light as the dew thats falling across the grass. My breathing is smooth as the creek that ripples beside my path. Like the ocean wind in an open sail is the breeze upon my back. The fireflies startle the darkness with sprinkles of light, and they dance in every open field or cleared woods. The stars and the moon slip in and out of pillared clouds, which hang as epic shadows in the night sky.

And I run. The night seems to fall together around me. Like my companion on the journey it runs right beside me. It holds me and pushes me. It soothes me and quickens my pace. In it's silence we converse, and our conversations draw a depth I find too seldom. And I find God here. In the rhythm of the pace of my companion and I, God is revealed, which is why I came in the first place.

Well my roomate politely noticed that I'm starting to stink, and I've got a shower calling my name.

2006-04-30T08:43:00.000-07:00

I love blackberry cobbler. It's one of my favorite things in the world. Especially fresh picked blackberry's. I like it when I pick blackberry's all morning and then for dinner my grandma has made an intoxicating cobbler. I like it still warm from the oven. Most people eat cobbler with ice cream, but I like just cream, still cool from the fridge against the warm cobbler. That sweet yet tart explosion of flavor. With a cup of coffee. Yeah thats good.

2006-04-28T21:59:00.000-07:00

Tommorrow I'm speaking at The Split, which is basically an all school retreat where the girls all go one place, and the guys go the other. Usually for stuff like this I struggle and slave over what I'm going to say or speak on, but this time I decided to just let the topic flow out of my walk.

The theme of the retreat is "consumed by Christ." Yesterday in chapel one of my best friends introduced the theme. His point was that we live in a consumeristic society and this floods into our Christianity. We become consumers of Christ, picking and choosing where we want him, when we want him, and how we want him. His point was that instead of being consumers of Christ, we need to become consumed by Christ.

So my topic is on practicing being consumed: the spiritual disciplines. Kenneth Boa in his book on spiritual formation makes a very strong point concerning spiritual disciplines. He says that discipline flows out of dependance. His point is that being dependant on Christ is not something that mysteriously occurs or will occur at some point, instead being dependant on Christ is a practice that takes dedication and hardwork.

Richard Foster in his masterpiece on spiritual discplines discuss them similarly. He says, "God has given us the disciplines of the spiritual life as a means of recieving his grace. The disciplines allow us to place ourselves before God so that He can transform us." His point is clear, the disciplines are man's way of allowing God to be active and overwhelming in our lives.

Tommorrow I'm focusing on three major discplines: Prayer, Silence, and Dancing. I've referenced other people who have studied and practiced the disciplines, but personally this is what it mens to me.

When I wake,

with sleep still heavy on my eyes,

and immediately find my knees

in His presence and holy court,

my daily focus alligns to His focus.

When I sit,

in complete silence and solitude,

centered on emptying my mind,

meditating on my walk in his path,

my empty places are filled with His light.

and

When I rise,

to dance in the afternoon sun,

in rhythm with all of His creation,

and overwhelmed in His love,

my fleshy cell turns to celebration.

2006-04-23T21:20:00.000-07:00

I think that the biggest problem with my generation is a total lack of theology.

We want to build this big spiritual relationship with Christ, and we search in so many ways to find it. We read all the hip new books, we go to the new age worship service, and have the fake conversations about what a christian should really be like. We speak about crossing denominational lines, going on missionary adventures, and being open to all diversity. We'll seemingly try anything for the relationship. Seemingly.

Yet when it comes to actually exploring who God is we get bored and lost. When it comes to his qualities, we accept only as convenience. His personality, we pick and chose. Through it all we claim to seek a relationship with Him. We want Him to love us and bless us, as long as we don't have to understand anything about him. We think theology has no practical or spiritual relevance. We build twenty feet tall, reaching spiritual highs, yet only an inch deep, dangered by the slightest breeze.

Theology in it's very nature is practical. Since everything in this world was created in either the concept or image of God, theology runs through every sun in the morning and breeze at night. Through every child's smile and grandparents wrinkled hands. Theology is relevant in every part of how we live as christians. Because God is relational, we are relational. Because God is forgiving, we are forgiving. Because God is holy, we are holy.

To those teaching my generation: don't give up on teaching theology just because a devotional song may get our attention more easily.

To my generation: We need to open our eyes, not to what we want God to make us feel like, but to who God actually is.

2006-04-20T07:25:00.000-07:00

The last time I slow danced I was in love.

It was one of those beautiful moments in life that you always hold on to. I was at my cousins wedding, and my whole family had spent the entire night dancing. For two or three hours we had performed every type of cultured wedding traditional dances: "the chicken", "the macarana", "the hokie-pokie", and of course "the choo-choo train". We were all totally exhausted from flawless excution of so many dances, and the night was drawing to a close. The D.J. called for the last song, and put on a love ballad. There, in the dim light, we danced.

As we danced I began to look around. First I saw my sister staring into her boyfriends eyes, and suddenly giggling. Her face lit up and she drew close to him. Next I saw my parents, holding each other while they talked and slowly moved in rhythm. Beside them my grandparents. They must have been exhausted, another one of their grandchildren getting married, and my grandma's head rested upon my grandpa's shoulders.

A customer in the restaurant told me the other day to hold on to every second I have in college, because it's all down hill from there. I think that's a sad, pathetic way to live. The climax of your life at 22 and you spend the rest of your life missing it. Not me. I have great memories from my time here so far. I have many great moments, and many stories that I'll tell for the rest of my life. Yet when all this ends, I'll leave here and move on.

I've still got a lot of dancing left to do.

I want to dance in a tux, guiding the love of my life as she shines in a white wedding gown. I want to dance with little feet on mine, teaching and guiding my daughter. I want to watch my boys dance with their first love, and see the men I've raised. I want to dance with my wife as we watch our grandchildren get married.

I don't know what life has for me, or what person tommorrow will bring, but I know this I've still got a lot of dancing left to do.

2006-04-02T12:39:00.000-07:00

It has been very hard to not slip into shallow worldliness lately. It's been a struggle to be pure. It seems that every one around me gives into these pleasures. They give into their cravings for money or popularity, for sex or alcohol, and I watch them in pain. But what makes it even worse is that they are happy. They smile more, they seem to have fun more. They seem to have more to do, and they seem to prosper. It makes me sick, and makes me crave things of this world as well. I start to wonder why I can't do the same. Why can't I just live as a convenient christian, checking in when I have time? Why can't I have some blow-off major? Why can't I hook up with every girl I see? Why can't I spend endless hours in superficial mindless drama and be happy? It seems to be doing O.K. for them.
I've clung to this passage. I've read it twice a day. I've memorized it, and been held by every word of it. Psalm 73

"Surely God is good to Israel,

to those who are pure in heart.
But as for me, my feet had almost slipped;

I had nearly lost my foothold.
For I envied the arrogant

when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

They have no struggles;

their bodies are healthy and strong.
They are free from the burdens common to man;

they are not plagued by human ills.

Therefore pride is their necklace;

they clothe themselves with violence.
From their callous hearts comes iniquity;

the evil conceits of their minds know no limits.

They scoff, and speak with malice;

in their arrogance they threaten oppression.

Their mouths lay claim to heaven,

and their tongues take possession of the earth.
Therefore their people turn to them

and drink up waters in abundance.
They say, "How can God know?

Does the Most High have knowledge?"

This is what the wicked are like—

always carefree, they increase in wealth.
Surely in vain have I kept my heart pure;

in vain have I washed my hands in innocence.
All day long I have been plagued;

I have been punished every morning.

If I had said, "I will speak thus,"

I would have betrayed your children.
When I tried to understand all this,

it was oppressive to me
till I entered the sanctuary of God;

then I understood their final destiny.

Surely you place them on slippery ground;

you cast them down to ruin.
How suddenly are they destroyed,

completely swept away by terrors!
As a dream when one awakes,

so when you arise, O Lord,

you will despise them as fantasies.

When my heart was grieved

and my spirit embittered,
I was senseless and ignorant;

I was a brute beast before you.

Yet I am always with you;

you hold me by my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel,

and afterward you will take me into glory.
Whom have I in heaven but you?

And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,

but God is the strength of my heart

and my portion forever.

Those who are far from you will perish;

you destroy all who are unfaithful to you.

But as for me, it is good to be near God.

I have made the Sovereign LORD my refuge;

I will tell of all your deeds."

2006-03-20T05:32:00.000-08:00

I read Dallas Willard's "The spirit of the Discplines" over spring break. This is one of my favorite passages from it.
"We seem hard put to understand that what is true of the foundations is no less true of the superstructure. The surrender of myself to him is inseparable from the giving up of my body to him in such a way that it can serve both him and me as a common abode, as John 14:23, 1 Corinthians 6:15-20, and Ephesians 2:22 testify. The vitality and power of Chrisitanity is lost when we fail to integrate our bodies into its practice by intelligent, conscious choice and steadfast intent. It is with our bodies we receive the new life that comes as we enter his Kingdom.
It can't be any other way. If salvation is to affect our lives, it can do so only by affecting our bodies. If we are to participate in the reign of God, it can only be by our actions. And our actions are physical - we live only in the processes of our bodies. To withhold our bodies from religion is to exclude religion from our lives. Our life is a bodily life, even though that life is one that can be fulfilled solely in union with God. Spirituality in human beings is not an extra or "superior" mode of existence. It's not hidden a hidden stream of separate reality, a separate life running parallel to ouur bodily existence. It does not consist of special "inward" acts even though it has an inner aspect. It is, rather, a relationship of our embodied selves to God that has the natural and irrepressable effect of making us alive to the Kingdom of God - her and now in the material world."

Sorry I know that was a lot to read, but that quote seems to be so startling to most modern christians. In the next week (or maybe two) I'm going to discuss the role of our physical, fleshly body in christianity, and I thought that quote would get things started right.

2006-03-15T05:53:00.000-08:00

Well I'm in West Virginia. I don't really know how I ended up here. It just kind of happened, but here I am. I love every breath of this fresh, yet ancient air. And that's what this place is about. It's a tension. And I felt it from the moment we stepped out of my new Hyundai and walked upon these antique wooden floors. It was there when I slipped under soft, worn sheets, and rolled over to turn off my cell phone. It was there when I drove past beaten shacks and cross tattered bridges, and, in a blink, I was surrounded by suburban shopping centers. There's a tension here. One between yesterday and tommorrow. Between the past and the future. The ancient and the new.
I'm staying at my roomate Joe's house. It's where he grew up and only 20 feet away is his grandparents house. Their family has lived here for generations, probably as long as these hills have been carved into. The first day he wanted to show me his land. We drove down an old mud road, every turn had another story for him to tell. Every deep valley and steep hill held another memory. We parked the truck and walked up to the top of this beautiful ridge. We both stood there kind of silent and just looked across the hills. Then he started talking. He told me about planting christmas trees with his papa here, and how he planned to clear the space off for his sister to build a house. He showed me where the old cellar from his great, great grandpa stood, and how he loved sitting upon the old stacked stones, which is why his house would be one ridge over so t hat the cellar could still stand. He told me about the pond turned mudhole. How he and his family use to fish there and how he was going to restore it. Finally he kind of just stopped. He had a very reflective look to him, and then he talked about the tension in the land. The tension between seeing old memories and making new ones. He said that he felt like nothing was stable, that he was living in an in-between and as much as he wanted to rewind he also wanted to jump forward.
I think that's life. I think we're always living in the tension. Theres always the storm yesterday and the sun tommorrow, or the rest yesterday and the stress tommorrow. There's always the tension. Even in our christianity, we live in tension. We reflect on a risen savior and at the same time await his return. We try and push away from the old self in order to better becoming the new. Our churches struggle in finding new ways to worship yet not abandoning tradition. And it's there personally. I find it in every aspect of who I am, who I was, and who I will be. I don't want to release yesterday, and why should I, but tommorrow calls and who knows what it brings.
I guess these old rugged hills have taught me that.

2006-03-05T12:32:00.000-08:00

Last night, after a long wait, I got to see "Walk the Line." It was one of the best acted movies I've seen this year. Reese Witherspoon definetely stole the spotlight, she shined throughout the movie. The plot was as expected, but it was still incredible. The love affair between Johny and June was emotionally gripping, and just the way they looked at each other stole my attention for the whole movie. They just seemed to fit together.
I think that sometimes two people are just like that. They just fit. Nothing is ever forced, not a touch, not a laugh, not a tear. There not perfect for each other, how can two flawed people be, but something about them together is right where it's suppose to be.

2006-03-01T17:18:00.000-08:00

Who would I be?

If I had taken a different path. If I had dropped into the ease of a much wandered trail.

Would I be different? Would my words change? Would my voice carry less weight, and my shoulders more burden? Would I be soaked in confusion and doubt? Would my days seem like nights and my nights like eternity? Would I mask my insecurity, hide it's ugly head under layers of self-preserving ego?

What would I worship? Would it be alcohol or drugs? Would I bow down at the altar of contemporary culture? Would I lift my hands in reverance to sports or cars? Would it be women? Would I give everything of mine that is so sacred in praise to popularity?

Would I have any depth? Would there be anything behind a painted porcelain shell? Would there be any core, or would it all have rotted away? Would my feet step and my thoughts dwell where I told others they did?

Would I have any real relationships? Would there still be people who challenged me and pushed me everyday? Would I have surrounded myself with these people, or would I have gotten sick of them? Would my friends know me, or some image of me that I had created? Would they be gone from me with their own convenience, or beside me in their own struggle? Would they help me define myself, or destroy myself?

If I had chosen another road. If I had slipped onto the route which falls so suddenly.

Who would I be?

2006-02-26T07:57:00.000-08:00

On friday night, me and three of my closest friends drove to Memphis to spend the night, and paint the town (an expression I'm trying to bring back.) We went to my friend Daniel's grandparents house first, and cooked dinner for his family. We made steaks, which Dale cooked absolutely flawlessly, and me and Daniel cooked the pasta's. Then we ate and ate and ate. It was amazing, and when I thought I could fit no more, Daniel's mom reminded us she had desert. So I put on a pot of coffe and we ate desert.
Then was my favorite part in the whole trip. We just set there. All of us. And told stories. We laughed, I mean laughed hard. And we listened, intently. We discussed thoughts on faith and trusting God. We told stories from freshman year and did character descriptions that were absolutely hilarious. We just talked for over an hour.
Don't tell me Christ isn't alive. I don't need any historical evidence. I don't need any theories to counter other theories. Don't tell me the apostles took his body. Don't try and convince me it was a Roman conspiracy. I saw Christ around that table. In each embarrased grin, in each pondering set of eyes, in each sip of coffee, in each thought, each laugh, each touch, I saw Christ.

2006-02-21T06:26:00.000-08:00

Today is my youngest brothers birthday. Shane is one of the great people in this world. He really is just a light. One of those amazing people that always just shines, and makes everyone else happy. Now it's time for a few Shane stories.

First of all you have to understand that Shane was born abnormal. In that I mean that he wasn't born in a hospital but in my parents bedroom. I don't remember all the details of everything, but it was an icy night, and they decided to have the baby at home. That night is fairly vivid in my memory. I remember my sister trying her hardest to stay awake all night and be there when Shane was born (she has always had a special place for Shane in her heart.) The only thing I really remember is the next morning. I woke up and went into the bedroom, and there he was wrapped up in the covers. My mom was laying next to him and she introduced me to him, and I just looked at him amazed. His little hands and feet were so amazing, and his little belly and head were so beautiful. He was so amazing. I think that was the first time I ever really felt like a big brother.

Shane was the cutest kid in the world. No really. He was just always laughing and smiling and had such an awesome smile, and he was just so cute. He could get away with anything. If he just asked his big sister for anything she'd go running.

My first great Shane story is when my family went on vacation to the lake of the ozarks. I think Shane was around 2 years old. We got back from eating one night, and there was this big brick stairway down to the condo. Shane was half asleep so I decided I would carry him down. On the second step down I tripped hard and we both fell. I tried to wrap him up and protect him, but I wasn't strong enough and we both hit hard. Every one ran after Shane and picked him up. They stood around comforting him and telling him he was alright. I just kind of laid there in shock so worried that he was alright. But after just a little bit he stopped crying, and was back to laughing and smiling.

Shane never liked to shower, Never! During the summer he would often go a week without showering. And the thing is that he was sneaky about it and nobody ever noticed until you smelled his hair. So when it was time for Shane to take a shower it was usually my job. Funny when I think about it now, because it was also my job to wash the dog. I would get the water just right in the shower and then force him in. We'd get him all washed up and then he'd jump out of the shower when he was done. I would take the towel in both hands and make an airplane sound and ask for permission to land on Shane's head. He would always deny permission and I was forced into a crash landing where I threw the towel all over him to dry him off. He would just giggle. Then when he was dry enough I would tie the towell around his neck and Shane would transform into NAKIE BOY! He would run all over the house, regardless of who was there, completely nake with only the towel flowing and yell Nakie BOY!

Shane always wore sweat pants and a sweat shirt. And sometimes they would match. For example he had a set of bright green sweats and everytime he would wear them I would say look it's a little leprachaun, and then chase him all over the house trying to get his pot of Gold. Shane was always the gofor. When always made him get everything all the time. The thing is that Shane hardly ever complained about it, he would just get up and do it.

Shane is a great kid, and he's going to be an even greater man. He matures more and more everytime I'm around him, and he always amazes me with his wisdom for his age. He has always just been fun and kind hearted. He's a great little brother, and I can't wait to see God work in his life.

2006-02-20T12:38:00.000-08:00

"God stands ahead of us in time, at the end of the journey, sending to us in waves, as it were, the gift of the present, an inrush of the future that pushes the past behind us and washes over us with a ceseless flow of new possibilities, new options, new chances to rethink and receive new direction, new empowerment. This newness, these possibilities are always "at hand," "among us," and "coming" so we can "enter" the larger reality and transcend the space we currently fill."

"a Generous Orthodoxy" Brian D. McLaren

2006-02-19T08:14:00.000-08:00

I don't know why I woke up this morning. I set my alarm, but when I couldn't fall asleep last night I turned it off. I decided not to go to church this morning. I was just to tired, and on top of that I have work to do. I have a paper due, as well as work at Doc's. I need my sleep, and yet I woke up in time for church.
I don't know why I woke up this morning. Maybe it was the dream I was having. It was miserable, one of the dreams that is so real to you that it still hurts when you wake up. And of course I woke up at the pivotal moment in the dream, when I was waiting for an answer.
I don't know why I woke up this morning. It's cold outside. I mean really cold. That cold crept in during the night through our weak windows and was just laying over everything. But I was prepared and my blankets were so warm. They just held me.
I don't know why I woke up this morning. Somehow I stumbled down to the shower, through a freezing hallway. The water was so hot, but for some reason it wasn't enough to warm me up. I thought about just going back to bed. I thought about making a cup of coffee and reading my bible. I thought about studying or writing. I thought about all these things as I was putting on my "church clothes."
I don't know why I woke up this morning. My car was frozen, just a block of ice. I had to fight through it just to get inside and get it running. Finally I headed to the building. I made it there as service was starting, and I stood in the back against the wall looking for a friend to sit by for a minute. Friends, but no open seats by them. So I went by myself and foud an open seat in the "youth group section."
I don't know why I woke up this morning. The service was bland at first, or maybe I was just bland at first. Communion came early, which was a surprise. Thats when I started praying. I ate the body and drank the blood, and I focused. I saw Christ. I saw his life, like a slide show in my head. I saw his hand reach for the poor and hungry, for the sick and lame. I saw his trial. I saw him being mocked and beaten. Like flashes of light they kept coming. I saw his brutual death, his blood, his burden. Then I saw his empty tomb. I saw his resurrection. His smile and his hope. Then we sang, and I sang. Then we worshiped, and I worshiped. I worshiped new. I worshiped rebuilt, restored, renewed. I couldn't hold the tears, and they washed down my cheek. Then a young man came forward and shared his story of fighting homosexuality, and understanding what it means to recieve God's love. It was overwhelming, and when he was done all the believers stood and clapped for him and sang with him. There were the tears again, cleansing my face. We finished with "Days of Elijah." My heart sprang forward as I casually picked up my coat. My soul lept, while I calmly walked out of the building.
It's cold outside. I'm tired. I've got a lot to do. That dream is still bugging me.
I know why I woke up this morning.

2006-02-16T21:08:00.000-08:00

The rain always goes away.

"When the rain comes
it seems that everyone has
gone away
When the night falls
you wonder if you shouldn't
find someplace
To run and hide
Escape the pain
But hiding's such a lonely thing to do

I can't stop the rain
From falling down on you again
I can't stop the rain
But I will hold you 'til it goes away

When the rain comes
you blame it on the things that
you have done
When the storm fades
you know that rain must fall
on everyone

Rest awhile
It'll be alright
No one loves you like I do
When the rain comes
I will hold you"

Third day "When the rain comes"

2006-02-15T10:56:00.000-08:00

Today is my big little brothers birthday. I say "big" because he's now flirting with 6' 2", and he thinks it's hilarious to put his chin on the top of head. I love Carden. He is really one of my favorite people in the whole world. He is absolutely hilarious, and now I will share some of my all time favorite Carden stories.

This one time we were playing "battle of the sexes" and it was really heated and down to the wire. My family is pretty competitive, and things were getting intense. The question drawn was to the guys and it was, "Where would you buy notions." There was a quiet still as we knew we were stumped, and then in a soft gentle voice from the side of the room I heard Carden start singing with a stupid smirk on his face. "Well, I'd like to know where you got the notion!" We all just started laughing hilariously.

This other time me and Carden decided to have a tree climbing contest in this old tree in our backyard. The thing is Carden is kinda scared of heights. It didn't bother him while he was climbing, but when he got ready to come down, he looked down and just froze. I climbed up next to him and tried to help him but he wouldn't move a muscle. So I went and got my mom. She came out and tried to calmly convince Carden to get down, but he was so scared he wouldn't move an inch. Then my mom started getting a little more aggressive, very firmly telling Carden he needed to come down. Thats when Carden started crying and whimpering, and mom went and got the broom. She came back out and started warning Carden that he had to get down in 3 seconds or he was going to "get it!" Well Carden just set there crying. My mom reached up on her tippie toes and reaching as high as she could, she starting poking Carden with the broom and yelling at him to come down. Carden just kept crying and crying never moving at all. It was quite a scene. I don't remember how he got down, but I'll never forget that scene.

This one halloween Carden traded a bunch of his other candy for "dubble bubble" gum. He put like all of them in his mouth, and just started chewing. Then when the flavor got old he would form some funny shape with it and stick it in the freezer. Then after a couple hours he'd pull it back out and start chewing on it again. This process lasted for I think a couple weeks.

Carden use to know every commercial, actually he still does. He would stand right next to the t.v and act each one out. It was so annoying and we use to throw things at him to get him to stop.

Me and Carden played everything together. Basketball, football, trampball, nintendo, super nintendo, nintendo 64, Playstation, and X box. We'd spend hours together outside playing who knows what, or we'd sit around and watching stupid shows and laugh together. Carden bruises easily, and I play a little rough, and I can't tell you how many times that combination led to me being in trouble.

I know that I'm the older brother, but there are so many ways that I look up to him, besides the fact that he's just tall. He has such a kind heart. He always loves people no matter who they are. He never takes life to serious, like the rest of his family does sometimes. He is so smart, things just stick in his mind. He is facing all the struggles of high school, and though I don't talk to him as much as I should, I know that he's keeping his feet planted on Christ. And most of all, above all things Carden can always make you laugh. ALWAYS!!!

2006-02-14T10:54:00.000-08:00

I'm really important aren't I. I mean really this whole world is held together in my great power. When I'm sad it rains, and when I'm happy it's sunny. It's not a coincidence I made it that way. If tommorrow I don't wake up, guess what, the whole world ends. Isn't that amazing. Things only exist because I experience them. No really it's true. You think you exist, but in reality I'm not thinking of you right now so you don't. I remember the first time I made the sun rise. It took a lot of patience and strength, but I finally got 'er to go. It's a hard burden for me to carry, I'm not gonna lie. I mean if I screw up then the whole world gets screwed up. Which means that I have to do everything perfect. You don't know this, but that is really not an easy task. What makes it really suck is that I spend so much time worrying about getting it right, that I never get to actually enjoy it. And sense I don't get to enjoy it, I'm sad.

Hmm. . . It's a beautiful sunny day.

2006-02-13T12:36:00.000-08:00

I only have a few minutes before I have to run to class, but i thought I would share a few things I've been thinking about today.
To begin with why do I make everything so concrete in my life, especially relationships? Why does everything have to have a purpose and a plan? Why does a relationship have to be perfectly defined, why can't it just be vague and enjoyed? I think it is interesting that God calls us to peace even though we don't have complete understanding. In my mind these are things that are so closely tied together. Peace only comes when something is completely understood and defined. Yet the more I dwell on this I realize just how ignorant this is! Nothing is completely concrete. We never completely understand, and we are never completely happy. We are never completely cut off and we are never completely together. No relationship is perfect, and thats alright. Just because it's not exactly as it should be doesn't mean that it can't bring joy and hope. Really just some random thoughts, but I had to post something today!

2006-02-11T12:11:00.000-08:00

Ahhh the winter Olympics. My favorite time of every fourth year. I love watching the Olympics. It's funny cause you couldn't pay me to watch any of these sports until the olympics come on and then I can't miss them. As of right now I am watching the Nordic Combined event. In this event the skiers begin with two down hill jumps to vie for position in a 15km cross crounty race. The jumps are my favorite part. It's amazing! These guys tuck down close to their skis which are set in a chizzled out track that keeps them staight. They go flying down this hill that looks almost straight down, and would scare the crap out of me. Yet they just kind of sit their looking all relaxed like it's no big deal. Then the hill lifts up to a jump and with a smooth, swift explosion they sprawl out their body like a squirrel jumping to the next tree. Then is my favorite part and they lay forward and just float down the hill. On the t.v. you can't see the ground or even that much scenery, so it literally just looks like they're laying in mid-air just chilling. Then just as quick as they took off, the straighten up and gently lay their ski's back on solid snow. I love the Olympics.
I think sometimes I should be more like those skiers. To often God sends me flying down the hill, my skis firmly in the track, and my body continually gaining momentum. He's preparing me for the jump. Then it comes and I get scared, panick, and miss it. I do nothing, wasting all his guidance and thrust, and I never fly. Yet for some reason he keeps sending me down the hill. Maybe one of these times I'll have the faith to sprawl out like a squirrel and see what kind of air God can get me.

2006-02-10T12:51:00.000-08:00

I love watching snow fall. It's just so amazing. This morning me and my friends blew off class and went mudding in an Arkansas blizzard (which means there is actually snow falling and thus everything in Arkansas shuts down.) It was awesome, we went through muddy ruts and little creeks, splashing water everywhere. A mix of country, rap, and who knows what else blasted on the radio. Yet my favorite part was when we got out of the cars in the middle of no where. There were two giant bluffs that stood overlooking a small pool made by a winding creek. Then the snow really began to fall. The thing with snow is that when it happens you have to look up to the sky right to where it's coming from. So all five of us guys, decked out in camo, boots, hats, and waders, stood in this scene with out heads laying straight back and stared into the sky. It had to been quite a scene. I always try and watch a single flake fall. I pick out one and stay with it all the way till it hits the ground, or my tongue.
I think the snow falls just like our lives. There are times when it's slow, soft and gentle, and then there are times when it really comes down hard a fast.
Then the moment was over, and we jumped back in the trucks and gunned it out of there like we had some where important to be, yet there is probably no where else except those kind of moments. Take your moments today, hold them, love them, and never forget them.

2006-02-08T11:57:00.000-08:00

It was just time for a change, just a little different template for my blog.
Isn't change funny.
There is just no pattern to it, and it always happens. Sometimes we anticipate change and see it coming. Othertimes we're blindsided and lost in the aftermath. Sometimes we long for change, needing it in our lives. Othertimes we fight change, and we're left dealing with what it brings. Sometimes we're not looking for change, and it fills our days with joy. Other times we allow it, knowing that it's hurt is overwhelming.
Change brings hope and dissapointment. It brings trust and betrayal. It brings love and pain.
It laces this world. In every culture and generation. In every bedtime story and epic novel. Just as tommorrow the sun will come up and night will fall again, so change will be there.
This world is about change, or change is about this world, either way it's always present.
But He's not of this world, and in him there is no change. His hand never lowers, and his love will never dissapoint.

2006-02-07T00:10:00.000-08:00

God drenches me in His love. I mean he soaks me. He's not the kid with the pistol water gun that only shoots a couple drops, he's the kid with the hose that won't leave you alone.
And I can't escape. I can pull away, falling into the pits of hurt and dispair. I can try to hide, living through someone else's life. I can run and run and run and run, but still here he is. Running right beside me, diving into the pits with me, finding me in my facade. Here he is lying beside me, holding me, gently whispering, "You are my son, I love you. You don't need to be anybody else, you don't need to do anymore, you don't need to try any harder. You are significant, becuase I love you, not because of anything you are, but because I love you. Oh and one more thing my son, My love never fails."

2006-02-05T13:33:00.000-08:00

I don't know sacrifice. I've never raised a lamb from it's birth, and watched it grow, turning into more of a pet than just another sheep. I've never had it follow me to water, and I've never had to wake early in the cold winter to get it's feed. I've never led it to the altar. Never bound it's feed, and heard it's billowing cry over the whimper of my own hurt. I've never raised a knife, and felt it tear through flesh that I knew so well. I've never watched the blood pour from it's lifeless body. I've never smelled the smoke rising into the sky. I've never fallen before it's smoldering ashes, and in prayer and song, understood why I did this deed.
I have a problem understanding what it means to physically acknowledge giving up something your heart belongs to. Sacrifice is so abstract in my mind, that it most often has no reality. So where in my life does it have a place?
My altar too often lies empty.
What, in the presence of such a sacrifice as diety and flesh, can I bring before the Lord? Nothing compares. So with abstract thoughts, I claim to give up myself, my life, my everything? To many times I mutter these words, as if they have existence by just saying them. Yet words bring no blood, no smoke, no hurt, and no reality.
Yet for the first time I'm beginning to smell it rise. I'm beginning to feel the strength of the flesh as I tear through it. I'm beginning to hurt, knowing what I'm losing. For the first time the altar is stained with blood, and my words have flesh.

2006-02-03T12:50:00.000-08:00

If you will sustain me Lord.
Be my hands, when they're to tired to raise.
Be my voice, when it's words are scorched.
Be my legs, when the weight tears them down.

If you will sustain me Lord.
Be my eyes, when their light is veiled in darkness.
Be my arms, when they quiver and cramp in pain.
Be my feet, when they have no step left to take.

If you will sustain me Lord.
Be my shoulders, when their burden cannot be bore.
Be my ears, when song turns to bitter silence.
Be my head, when it hangs far to low.

If you will sustain me Lord.
Be my tears, when they're drought with their flood.
Be my prayer, when mute is all that is muttered.
Be my food, when my body has no craving.

If you will sustain me Lord.
Be my heart, when it has nothing left to give.
Be my hope, when it's shadow I can't see through.
Be my love, when it's hurt I can't understand.

If you will sustain me Lord,
then I am able to give you praise.

2006-02-02T21:57:00.000-08:00

Psalm 18:1-3
"I love you, O Lord, my strength.
The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;
my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.
He is my shield and the horn of my salvation,
my stronghold.
I call to the Lord, who is worthy of praise,
and I am saved from my enemies."

2006-02-01T08:33:00.000-08:00

My eyes are focused on that splintered cross. Worn from age and tattered by storms, it stands firmly planted on an ageless foundation. Though countless others crowd before it, there is always room when I approach. Some stand stall in it's shadow, lifting their hands in praise. Some mock its composition, throwing at it whatever their hands may find. Others, with hands on hips, question its reality, doubting that it truly stands. There are those who kneel beside it quitely, with closed hands, speaking to it in whispers. Some mourn in its comfort, their hands as saucers to catch their tears. Some try to scale it, thinking they can rise above it, their hands never really grabbing hold. Many try to capture it, composing, drawing, writing with practiced hands, often from a distance never catching view. Many try to build upon, their hands toiling with hammers and nails. Then theres the ones who just want to experience it, running their hand along every crevace, feeling it's scars and bruises, yet they never open their eyes to see it.
I just fall before it, helplessly sprawled upon the ground, hands clinging to it's splintered frame, knowing in it's core it will always stand.

How do you approach it?

2006-01-29T19:51:00.000-08:00

The body is but a moment. It flickers and flashes, with moments of glory and awe. Then, in an instant or a slow painful nightmare, its light whisks away. Its left, nothing but a hollow shell, eyes without sight, lungs without breath. We see its weakness everyday, with every sniffle and swollen ankle. Yet, we ignore it, just let it slip out of mind, never coming face to face with it. Why would we? Facing our frailty forces us to confront our strength.

Psalm 38
9 All my longings lie open before you, O Lord;
my sighing is not hidden from you.

10 My heart pounds, my strength fails me;
even the light has gone from my eyes.

Psalm 59
16 But I will sing of your strength,
in the morning I will sing of your love;
for you are my fortress,
my refuge in times of trouble.

17 O my Strength, I sing praise to you;
you, O God, are my fortress, my loving God.

2006-01-22T13:18:00.000-08:00

I'm leading the devotional before communion tonight at the 8:15 college service at Downtown church of Christ and this is the ending to what I am going to say.

"Sometimes I believe we can get carried away in our own singing and in our own worship. We get caught up in our own faith, in our own spirituality, often our own morals and ethics. We get so stuck in our own traditions and week-to-week religion that we forget the very core of what Christianity is: Christ.

15He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. 16For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. 17He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 18And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. 19For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, 20and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. Colossians 1:15-20

We gather together tonight to worship in his name, to fellowship in his light, to walk in his path. And as we enter into this two thousand year old tradition we eat his flesh and drink his blood to remember, not just his sacrifice, but also his deity, his life, and his resurrection."

I ask that you'll pray that God may speak through me tonight.

2006-01-21T09:02:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I am just a jerk. I don't know how it happens. I just say the wrong thing or have the wrong expectations and I hurt someone I love. I wish I was never like that. I wish I could always just do the right thing, and show the people I love how much I love them. The thing with being a jerk is that you don't deserve forgiveness. There is no reason you should recieve it, and you can't earn it no matter what you do. Still when you are really sorry you want to give the world to show it, but all you can really do is just become completely humble, admit how completely wrong you were, and beg for forgiveness even if the whole world knows. I'm sorry.

2006-01-18T19:38:00.000-08:00

"Love is patient. Love is Kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no records of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protect, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."
Love is such a mystery. I can't define it and can't contain it, but I try so hard to understand it. People say love is a process. It's a lifetime of learning and growing together. It changes and evolves as two lives walk hand in hand. I'd agree with that. People also say love is a moment. It's the first kiss, the little words, and the "I DO." I'd also agree with that. Yet what I'd really agree to is that I am so young and so immature about love that I have the arogance to post about it on my blog, and pretend that I know what I'm talking about. What is love?

2006-01-15T06:39:00.000-08:00

What makes Winnie the Pooh so believable is that he is rumbly in his tumbly. Everytime things seem to be going good for Winnie he gets rumbly in his tumbly, and that screws everything up. I guess me and Pooh bear got a lot in common.

What is it that makes me so restless? What is it that drives me to get up every morning and keep walking the long road from the city to Jacobs well? I don't know why. Yet I do it, trembling and thirsty. I take my clay jar and dip it way down into the cool water and it glistens in the sun. With dry chapped lips and shaking hands I sip it's cool relief. Yet its a facade for I still have to walk back to town and every step takes me farther from the well and farther from it's relief.

I need his eternal water. I need that confrontation at the well. I need him to look at my confused cravings and misdirected wants and to snap them back into line.

I need his water, bubbling up in me, filling me. Then maybe I won't be so rumbly in my tumbly.

2005-11-16T06:38:00.000-08:00

I wrote this for my ministry class on what my vision for a healthy church is.

All ministers desire a healthy church. We crave a church that is prospering and growing. We want to be on the cutting edge, to be the church everyone is talking about. We want a popular church. Yet a truly healthy church is full of sick people. A true church of Christ is a refuge for those who are hurting, for the sick, for the lame and the blind. The Church is a mansion for the homeless and a banquet for the starving. A healthy church longs for the underprivileged and less fortunate. It doesn’t cast away strays with self-centered pride, but humbly draws the outcasts into its shelter. A church becomes healthy when the members realize they aren’t. When they realize their need for God and that they are lost without his hand. A church should be multicultural even in a setting that doesn’t appear that way. A church should be painted with racial diversity, an image that the world looks at for hope. A minister’s role is to keep this image in the minds of Christians. He is to be a reflection of Christ, always teaching and touching. Still we wonder how is this possible? It is only by the power of God. Who would’ve ever thought that Gentiles and Jews would worship together? Behold his mighty power. Who would’ve thought that the Gospel of Christ would be preached around the world? Behold his awesome power. We should strive to start ministry movements that focus on the homeless, the sick, and the lost. We should be driven for diversity; always praying that we may see through our own color blindness. We should always be learning how to effectively touch a community. Yet we must remember that if anything is to be accomplished it is in God’s great power.

2005-11-01T07:46:00.000-08:00

We come to the banquet famished. We come starving, having never eaten before. Yet we come denying our own hunger. Denying the pain deep with in. Denying the need for food. Denying the aching and groaning for what is missing. We come to the banquet. We look across the table, our sight is consumed with steaming hot food. Our mouth waters in anticipation, and we begin to feast.

"I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thristy." John 6:35

2005-10-26T22:16:00.000-07:00

I tried to go to bed early for the first time in a long time tonight. . . didn't work.

As my head hit the pillow I thought about all I have to do. My stresses and worries began to creep into my mind. The little anxiety's that always dwell in the back slowly slipped to the front. I tried to resist them, but they are so strong. I began to fret. . .

I have a paper due in a couple weeks.
I have a credit card payment due.
I have to work a lot this weekend.
I have class tommorrow.
I have a field trip next weekend.
I have to make more money next semester.
I have to get my greek done, my ministry hours, my ORS assignments.
I have to do better on my next Israelite test.
I have to get more sleep.
I have to make a dentist appointment.
I have to get laundry detergent, and then I have to do my laundry so I have clean boxers to wear. . .tommorrow.
I have to apply for an internship for the summer.
I have to start getting information for grad school.

Like a cold wind He stung me across the face, and paused my thoughts. All my worries, all my anxiety dwelled on one thing. . . me.

There once lived a man so in tune with his father that he desired to only do his will. There once lived a man that thought only of others. A man that spent his days touching the untouched, feeding the hungry, teaching the ignorant. A man that emptied himself of himself so that others could know his father. A man who felt whips and nails tear through his skin for nothing he had done. There once lived a man who purposely, intentionally tasted death so that others wouldn't have to. A man who gave up all authority, all power, who humbled himself and became the least so that others may be great.

May I seek to live as he lived, so that I may become nothing for the one who is everything.

2005-10-20T07:20:00.000-07:00

The sea of white robes floods my view. It stretchs to the horizon, as far as the eye can see. The robes are white as a morning snow. They rest upon everyone here. People from every nation are present. Every language is heard. Yet there is no seperation or segregation. There is no longer any rich or poor, no high class or low class, no asian or european, no kings or peasents, no male or female. Each person holds palm branches, symbols of unity, peace, and praise. They stand before the throne. The seat of the holy King who is clothed in glory and power. Their eyes are set upon the blood stained lamb. Together their voices rise in admiration and in one voice they loudly cry out,

"Salvation belongs to our God,

who sits on the throne

and to the Lamb."

The one beside me asks "who are these in the white robes?" I don't know, but the glimmer in the elders eye hints that he does, and I reply "Sir, you know." He smiles as he gazes across the scene and answers,

"These are they who have come out of the great tribulation;

they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.

They are before the throne of God

and serve him day and night in his temple;

and he who sits on the throne will spread his tent over them

Never again will they hunger;

never again will they thirst.

The sun will not beat upon them,

nor any scorching heat.

For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd;

he will lead them to springs of living water.

And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."

Revelation 7: 9-17

2005-10-14T23:21:00.000-07:00

There is that beautiful moment between sleep and awake. That sweet point where the eyes have drifted into darkness, and the mind begins to escape into distant places. Places where the warm breeze drifts pillowed clouds across the boundless blue sky. Places where lingering leaves are colored in the sun of the cool, fall dusk. Places where soft whispers saturate the dark night, and brown eyes capture the dawn.

I wish I could live in that moment. Just dwell there all the time. Not having to face another stress filled day or wake to a screaming alarm. Why do I think I hold this world together? What is it that makes me think that without me everything would cave in?

In that moment I have no control. I am a participant in something that is not manipulated or dependent on me. I think that's why I like it so much, because it's not my moment, it's just a moment that I am a part of. It soothes me.

I guess this world isn't really my moment either.

2005-10-04T07:30:00.000-07:00

I had 10 years taken off my life this weekend. On Saturday Jena and I went up to St. Louis for the Cardinals game. I was giddy. I was amazed at how tall the buildings were, tilting my head way back pointing my noise to the sky letting a long drawn out "WOW" escape my lips. We walked around the stadium before we went in, and I explained all the statues, "Gibby," "Lou," "Ozzie," and of course "Stan the Man." Then we went into the stadium and and I was overwhelmed by the smell of hotdogs and nachos. We took our sits and prepared to start the game. My view was consumed with the "sea of red" and the green grass spotted with little white specks of players. Then there was Pujols! With one guy on and a one and one count I turned to Jena and smuggly said he's going to hit a homerun this pitch to dead centerfield and it's going to land in the grass. He blasted the ball right to where I had called it and my ears were filled the crazed roar as 48,000 people exploded from their seats into celebration. Everyone got high fives no matter if you knew them or not. The entire game I felt like a little boy which is what baseball is suppose to do.
On Sunday afternoon we went over to Jena's house and I played in the yard with her little brother and sister. We helped her mom clean up the lawn and threw the football for a little while. Then it began to get a little bit darker and her little brother came running from the otherside of the house yelling my name and screaming for my help. I followed him to the back of the house to find that he had found a little toad and wanted help putting it in a box. We spent the next hour walking around the house picking up toads as they pee'd all over us, it was disgusting yet awesome.
Sometimes I think I'm growing up. I think I'm being responsible and mature. I fall into a "adult" lifestyle. I like it when God reminds me that I'm just a little boy, and I hope in forty years he's stilling reminding me of that.

2005-09-18T07:47:00.000-07:00

I missed my bloggiversary!!! I was so excited about it a month ago, and then I totally just forgot about it. Well two weeks and a year ago I started this outlet, this conversation not knowing exactly what would come of it. God has blessed me so much through this. In times of overwhelming joy I've lifted my hands in worship finding his words blanketing the screen. In times of piercing pains my tears crafted my laments to my God. In times of loneliness great friends left comfort for me to read. So today I thank God for this medium, and in honor of one year I republish an old post.

September 11

"Moses comes down from the mountain, from being in the very presence of the Lord, and the glory of the lord shines so brightly from his face that the people can not even look at it. The power that Moses must have felt. Not his own power but the great and awesome power of the Almighty. I would fear so less to stand in front of the millions and lead them and give them laws of the way they are to live when I have had the very hand of God shield me from his glory. I have thought every time that I read this passage this same thing, that I could do amazing things for God if I could just see his glory. If he could just give me a glimpse. I'm not asking for the whole thing, you know a bush on fire could do wonders. How immature I can be at times. Asking the Lord for the very thing that he has already given me.

This very morning I was lost in the night sky, staring into it so deeply trying to see one more star just a little further. Was I not staring into the glory of God? Wasn't that what captured me, and made me long to just stand in awe a little longer?

Yesterday I saw a beautiful little girl clinging tightly to her fathers leg, in fear of the world around her. I saw her innocence, her dependence upon her father, and her sweet smile. Was I not smiling back at the glory of God?

I've seen the lost found, the searching find, the unbelievers believe, the proud fall, the broken mended, and the sinner saved.

"WE HAVE SEEN HIS GLORY, THE GLORY OF THE ONE AND ONLY, WHO CAME FROM THE FATHER, FULL OF GRACE AND TRUTH." John 1:14"

2005-09-02T06:40:00.000-07:00

He is the sun in the morning that lights my darkness. He's the coming joy. He's the first morning rays warm on my skin. He's the cool dew against my feet. He's the deep breathe of chilled air. He's the woods coming alive. He's the mist rising from the field. He's the last holding star. He's the scent of fresh coffee. He's the taste of my Grandmas waffles. He's the peace, the still, the quite, the fresh start.

He's my dawn.

2005-08-26T21:33:00.000-07:00

1 John 3:16-18

"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth."

2005-08-22T12:55:00.000-07:00

I'm not perfect.

It's a painful thing to say. I wish I was. For some reason I have my mind set that if I was perfect everyone would like me more. If I was perfect then somehow life would be a little easier. If I was perfect then I would be happy all the time. What makes it so miserable is the moments when I'm reminded that I'm not perfect. When I'm reminded that I'm incomplete. I am lacking.

It's even worse to tell people I'm not perfect. I guess no one ever really thought I was, but sometimes in my nieve mind I hold on to that hope. Because if someone else thinks I'm perfect then maybe. . . just maybe . . . there is a chance that I am.

I guess you don't have any real relationships with people when you try to only to show them perfection. I guess you can't grow together. I guess there's no growth at all.

2005-08-19T08:40:00.000-07:00

When I went to bed last night at 12:30 I was completely and totally wiped out. I spent all morning and afternoon helping my beautiful girlfriend load and move all of her stuff into the dorm. Which basically meant I carried whatever heavy thing she wanted carried up to the second floor. Then I went to work at 3:30. We broke our old records for sales in an hour at work and from 3:30 till 11:30 I was on my feet waiting tables or cleaning. I'm not telling you this to complain, I'm setting the stage for my morning.

At 6:00 God woke me up! How rude! Have you ever had that happen? I studied and prayed and prayed some more. I never felt tired, the whole time I just felt refreshed and restored.

Praise be to a God who wakes us up early in the morning just to spend time with us!

2005-08-16T20:35:00.000-07:00

This is going to be a quick post, but it was a thought that I prayed a lot on tonight. I thought I would share it.

I earnestly believe that God allows hardships in our lives for his will to be done, and I also believe that God will rescue any one from anything. Yet what I often have the hardest time believing is that God will bless my life. I don't know if it is because I'm often so pessimistic or if I just see to much evil all around, but I have a hard time believing that God wants me to have a blessed life. So tonight as a summer full of hardship comes to a close I prayed that God would grant my family and I (along with many other people) a time of blessing.

2005-08-14T08:26:00.000-07:00

As quickly as everyone left, they all now return. Thats where my thoughts are at this morning after going to church and seeing so many people who had been absent all summer. Watching my idiot friends be well. . . idiots. Watching hugs and smiles, laughs and questions. It's a reunion. Not some tacky family reunion where your mom has to explain to you who everybody is, but a reunion of poeple who have missed each other and have longed to be together. The air is filled with excitement and smiles.

I'm ready for that reunion. The big one. The one where the seperated is reunited. The one where the prodigal son comes home and the party is thrown. The one where the child lays his head upon the chest of his father. The one where I finally lay my eyes upon the Lamb who is clothed in light. The one where the groom meets the bride.

"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.' He who was seated on the throne said, 'I am making everything new!" Revelation 21:1-5

2005-08-11T22:41:00.000-07:00

"my Sweet Surround
you've brought me here
cool me in your touch
that stills the night
and this rushing mind
which can't contain
a moment such as this
dictate what you want
in this bittersweet world
that holds on by a breathe
and traces outlines
of holding hands
and star lit skies
compose this presence
and hold me here
my Sweet Surround"

2005-08-07T08:24:00.000-07:00

I don't undestand how it could have happened. I've been heartbroken before, but it can't compare. I've been reminded again this summer about hurt and pain. About someone you love seemingly rejecting you, but it can't compare. I've soaked myself in tears and had long hurting nights where even sleep couldn't dull the pain, but it can't compare.

They poured their love into him, not just the love they had for him, but the love they had for each other. They took the very essence of who they were and put it in his soul. It's what seperated him. It's what made him their masterpiece. They formed everything, but it was only into man that God and the Word gave relationship. They saturated him in it. Not in a basic, survival instinct relationship, but in living, complex relationship. It's what made him man, and it's how they showed their love for him.

I can't even begin to comprehend their hurt when he threw it away. When he tore them apart. Thats what it would be. Forever changed because of man's own lust for power. When he broke the relationship of God to man, he broke all three relationships. His relationship with woman was changed and hurt.

Genesis 3:16 "To woman he said. . . Your desire will be for your
husband, and he will rule over you."

But even worse then that he ruins the relationship that was in the beginning. For it is because of the fall that the Word seperates from God and comes down into flesh.

2005-08-04T11:32:00.000-07:00

Out of the purity and beauty of the eternal, dynamic relationship comes creation. The earth is formed and light is cast upon it, but before the rain falls or trees and shrubs appear, man is molded. Out of the dust and dirt God and the Word form their masterpiece. It lays motionless and lifeless upon the dirt it came from in a vast world still under construction. (What a scene to lay my thoughts upon tonight as I’m surrounded by everything: the blankets under me, the walls beside me, the computer before me. God first forms me, while the earth is nothing but a haze of dust. I am his focal point. I am his attention. The earth is filled as a background to me.) So the molded and lifeless shell lies empty upon the ground. Then in a physical, concrete expression of their relationship, they breathe in life. They surround their masterpiece with an earthly heaven, where man can even walk and talk with them. Then because of who they are and what they are, they give man a mate. In the reflection of their own relational existence they form her out of the same IS that they formed man. She was not only a mate, but an expression of love for man. Just as God and the Word were in a relationship with their own likeness and IS, so they desired for man to know the same relationship.

In this time, before the hurt and the pain, were three beautiful and inspiring relationships. The first the relationship that was in the beginning between God and the Word. Next, the relationship of created to creator, of son to father, of man to God. Finally, there is the relationship of man to woman. From a speck of dirt in an empty world, to an intricate, complicated being living in multi-dimensional relationships.

2005-08-02T23:23:00.000-07:00

Though no one seemed to read my last post, I'm going on with my thoughts for a couple more days.

In the beginning we find the Word and God in a perfect relationship. Think about the amazing relationships in your life. What is it that great relationships do? So often we think about why we have great relationships or how we can make them better, but I think we rarely dwell on what it is that real, true relationships do? I believe they create! Think about it. Not what do I want in a relationship or what do I need in a relationship, but what do we DO in a relationship? We grow families and build homes. Not just concrete, but also abstract. We paint memories and compose emotions. And if all of these relationships in this world are nothing more then scarred reflections of the original, perfect relationship. Then of course God and the Word CREATE! They light the darkness! They sift out the sky! They mold dry land! They plant the vegetation! They ignite the sun! They fill the earth with life! And then. . .

Genesis 1:26 "Let us make man in our image, in our likeness. . .

27 So God created man in his own image,

in the image of God he created him;

male and female he created them."

2005-07-31T21:25:00.000-07:00

"In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God. "

John 1:1

The other three gospels use genealogies to explain who Jesus is, but it is these three phrases that John uses. I've been translating John 1 for summer homework in my Greek 3 class. I keep coming back and reading this in the Greek over and over again, partially because it is a fairly easy sentence to read and partially because it is so unbelievably mind blowing. John begins his gospel by giving us the identity of Jesus. Not in an earthly form that calls upon history and ancestry, but in a dynamic, eternal portrait.

In the beginning the Word was. It (without gender) exists. It is. This is often a thought we let slip to quickly from our minds, but as I type these words I reflect upon what it means to exist. So before you read any farther stop and think about that. . . I exist! We exist because we were created. The maker formed us, he breathed life and we became. But not the Word! It was not created, rather in the beginning the Word IS.

In the beginning the Word was in the presence of God. So God is separate, because if you are "in the presence", if you are "with" then there is not one being but rather two, together. Imagine that presence. It is a presence without world. There is no concrete thought, there is no sight, no touch, no sound, no smell, no feel. There is nothing but pure, totally and complete relationship. A relationship so perfect, so filling as to not need touches or words. In the beginning the Word was WITH God.

The Word was God. Though the Word is with God, it also is God, being the same very nature as God. Not only being the same nature, but being the same IS. The same existence. For just as this is the description of the Word, so it can be transposed. In the beginning was God, and God was with the Word, and God was the Word. The word WAS God.

Who is it that John strives to show us. In the beginning is an eternally existent perfect unity in a dynamic relationship.

2005-07-25T08:19:00.000-07:00

We have become our own Popes. Is it any surprise? I mean we live in a culture dominated by the "me" lifestyle. In our quest for personal power and self-contained authority we have thrown aside the shackles of a church that is run by submission to greater authorities. In our attempt to escape we sought a route that would take us far from the subjection of the authority of others, but we may have been to eager. We may have entrapped ourselves into something far worse. We are no longer governed by a pope or a bishop. We are no longer submissive to a priest for our confession and to intervene for our salvation. Instead we depend upon ourselves. Our authority. Our own personal salvation. One based upon what we think, based upon what we feel. In the same breath we scoff at the Papal authority and claim to take our truth only from the Bible. Yet we are so blindly submissive to our own tribes past that we can not help but fall into the same snare that the Catholic church is in. But ours is one based on pride, arrogance not in a church or in a movement, but in ourselves. In our own way, in our own truth, in our own life. And even more arrogant is our mentality that our path is the only path and that we have chosen the route that Jesus set for us. We have become our own popes.
I want His route. I want to be done with me! Done with what I think, what I feel. Done with my authority and my power.

"I, I am the way and the truth and the life." John 14:6

2005-07-23T21:46:00.000-07:00

I can't give you heaven,

though I'd like to try.

To wrap in you eternity,

and let forever roll by.

I can't be perfection,

to many flaws and fears

that ruin my reflection

through these broken tears.

I can't paint the morning sun,

or wake it with my hand,

send it running across the sky,

lighting the darkened land.

I can't drench the desert,

overflow it with my rain,

heal your broken spirit,

or vicariously take your pain.

I can't breathe in life,

to a dusty speck of dirt,

let it laugh and smile,

or let it cry and hurt.

But I can show you steadfast love,

that I can never give,

one that clothed himself in flesh,

and died so we may live.

Sorry kinda sappy I was in a mood. I'll post again tommorrow to make it go away.

2005-07-21T08:50:00.000-07:00

I went to church on Sunday night. There was a guest speaker at Highway and I went with one of my best friends to hear him. He spoke on the youth in the church, and had a stat that 85 percent of kids in the church leave the church when they go off to college. He explained that we are not raising our kids right. We are not raising them to live by the Bible and we are not spending enough time with them. He preached for 55 minutes on a Sunday night.
During the sermon I got a little bored and there was this absolutely beautiful little girl sitting in front of me. She was about 2 years old. So I played with her. I would kind of hide behind the pew and then she would try to find me and when she did I would make a funny face at her. She would smile real big and then try to hide from me. This one time I found her and she exploded into a huge out-loud laugh that woke most of the congregation. Probably a good 65 percent of the congregation turned around and gave me and the little girl looks that I dare not try to explain. So then she got in trouble by her mom for laughing in church (I did feel kind of guilty for that but it's not the first time I've gotten cute blondes in trouble with their parents.) So heres my question. . . . Why is it again that 85 percent leave the church when a recent study by the Higher Education Research Institute at UCLA says that 3 out of every 4 college age students are searching for a higher meaning in life?

2005-07-11T21:51:00.000-07:00

I've been giving the priviledge to speak to a group of teenagers tonight. There will be about a hundred of them from 7th to 12th grade. The topic is called "nothing but net." It's about how the disciples left everything to follow Jesus. I'm going to use the story of the rich young ruler in it as well. I ask that you'll pray for God's word to speak.

2005-07-09T21:32:00.000-07:00

I don't go to church.

I know I should. It's not a stance I'm taking or some quest I'm on in my faith (though I did do that once.) It's just a lot of things, but really only one thing. So I'm going to lay them all out, not really so that you can know, but because I think that If I put them down it will help me (sorry I'm being selfish.)

Time. I work on Sunday Mornings at 10:30 or 11:00 and Wednesday nights. I could go to church on Sunday Morning before work, but I get in from work at like 11 on Saturday night, and I'm pretty exhausted.

The churches here. They are great churches, but I find myself being so critical, because. . .

It's not MY church. I love Northside. I miss everyone there. I miss getting there at some odd time, being greeted by Williard, stopping Larry to chat with him for a minute, going into the office to say hi to whoever's sitting in the secretary's desk (usually Mellissa when she's not singing), acting like I'm going into my Dad's office but knowing that the worship teams in there singing, going out and trying to figure out what Scotty's doing, talking to all the teens who are getting back from Lock Stock, and then avoiding whoever's in charge of the Lord's supper. I miss sitting next to my family. I miss trying not to cry during worship. But most of all I miss my dad's sermons.

Church seems so shallow and fake to me most of the time.

I get bored.

I always feel overdressed or underdressed.

It steals my morning which is my favorite time of the day.

I don't really have anybody to go with. (I love my friends here, but there not my family.)

This is where Satan has the biggest hold on me right now. He has convinced me that I don't need church to be a christian, and I've taken all of the relational part of church out of the picture. I've convinced myself that church doesn't need the building or the worship or the sermon, so I see the church as a group of people. Therefore if the church is just the people then I can be with people anywhere so why do I need to go to church. (is this making any sense?)

Help. What do I do?

(major problem with this post is that I used to many parantheses!)

2005-06-22T22:51:00.000-07:00

I wish everyone could have experienced the scene I found myself in tonight. I went night fishing with my fishing buddy. We went down below the dam to the river. The river slices through a big hill and as you look up across the water your view is overloaded. There are giant boulders rising among the current. There are trees dangling on the side of the hill barely holding on as if they might give up and fall in at any moment. Then there is the canvas of green painted by low growing bushes and weeds. But at night you can't see any of that.
What you experience is something so foreign to the river in the day, like you're lost in a daydream barely knowing where you really are. Tonight the moon was at full force drenching shadows over everything. It had a gold tint to it and seemed so close that if you really reached hard enough you could touch it. The water is always very cold at this part of the river and when the hot summer night beats down upon it a thick mist rises. The fog covers everything. Tonight the moon light seemed to be trapped in the fog, illuminating every drop of vapor, creating a confusion of light and dark. It was amazing as if all the light in the sky was coming from the fog itself.
I use to ask myself a question all the time. No matter where I was or what I was doing I would ask, "Is there any other place or any other time you'd rather be then right here and right now?" I don't know why but I slowly stopped asking myself that. I think it was probably because I started not wanting to answer it. I use to always say no. No, there is no where else. At some point that started to change, and when you are never happy with where you are and what your doing then you stop asking yourself that question.
I asked myself that question tonight for the first time in a long time. But what I realized tonight that I didn't understand before is that when I asked that question it wasn't about what I was doing, or where, or with who that determined the answer. It was who I was that determined the answer. It wasn't an external question, it was an internal. I'm beginning to be able to say once more that there is no other place I'd be then right here and right now.

2005-06-21T22:30:00.000-07:00

I've spent most of my life denying it, but I'm letting you in on my little secret. I'm a romantic. I know "what kind of guy posts about fishing and then the next day claims he is a romantic", but it's true. I like to watch girly movies, not really bad chick flicks, but I would rather watch a movie where two people fall in love then a movie where a guy blows up everything. I say that because I'm reading "Searching for God Knows What" by Donald Miller (by the way the name Donald does not fit him, he should have some really cool whacky name that is really unique) and what I read today blew me away. It literally stole my thoughts for the rest of the evening.
He talks about how Adam went years alone in the Garden without Eve. How Adam was lonely because none of the animals he was naming was suitable as a companion, and how Adam probably didn't even know what a suitable companion would look like or talk like or act like. And then God puts Adam to sleep and takes a rib and forms a woman. As the romantic that I am I love how Miller puts it (I'm breaking out into a long paragraph of his, but read it cause it is awesome.)

"She would be the most precious creation in all the world, and you would probably wake up every morning and look at her and wonder at her beauty, or the gentle, silent way she sleeps. It stands to reason if Byron, Keats, and Shelley made beauty from reflecting on their muses, having grown up around women all their lives, that even these sonnets could not capture the sensation Adam must have felt when he opened his eyes to find Eve. You probably think I am being mushy and romantic, but the first time Moses breaks into poetry in the Bible is when Adam first meets Eve. . . Here's what he said about what Adam thought when he met Eve:

Bone of my bones

And flesh of my flesh

(Genesis 2:23 NKJV)

. . . Adam was seeing a person who was like him, only more beautiful, and smarter in the ways of relationships. He must have thought to himself that she was perfect, and after a few days of just talking and getting to know each other, they must have fallen deeply in love. . . he must have gone on a long walk with God and thanked Him, and I'll bet that was a very beautiful conversation. I'll bet Adam felt loved by God, like he was somebody God was always tring to bless and surprise with amazing experiences, and I'll bet they talked together about how beautiful Eve was and how wonderful it was that the two of them could know her, and I would imagine that Eve felt safe, loved, not used or gawked at, but appreciated and admired." (Donald Miller, "Searching for God Knows What, 66-67.)

I pray that God will allow me to look at all women like Adam first looked at Eve, and that one day I may fall just like Adam first did.

2005-06-20T21:59:00.000-07:00

I went fishing by myself this morning. I fled down to the river. I turned off my cell phone, and shut off my mind. The sun was hot, but off of the cold water there was a cool breeze. The breeze soothed my skin and played with my line. The sky was a soft blue and was speckled with puffy white daydreams. The river was low, but the current was strong, constantly pushing against my legs as I waded along. The water was clear as ice and I watched fish dance shadows against the dull rocks. The trees were humming with the sound of cicadas, and their thick green arms reached across the river tempting me with shade. For the first time in quite a while I took deep breathes. The clean air filled my chest and refreshed my weary lungs.

He is the renewal. He is the one who refreshes the weary and restores the fallen. He regains the lost. He replenishes the empty and reignites the ashes. He rebuilds the shattered, reconstructs the pieces, and reframes the supports. He reunites the separated and reclaims the long gone. He reforms the withered. He removes the stains, repairs the trust, replaces the hurt, reveals the truth, and releases the guilt. He is the renewal.

2005-06-19T07:51:00.000-07:00

Today is Father's day.

My first memories of my father are of him taking us with him to play noon ball. My little sister and I would go play around on the side while he played basketball. I don't remember ever actually watching him play, but I remember ever person that came over and talked to us told us how good of a player my dad was. My dad is my hero.

My dad use to read us stories before we went to bed at night. He read the whole Chronicles of Narnia series, and many other books that we loved. Yet for some reason I can still remember a story that he made up one night for us. It was about a boy and his dog in the ozarks. I can still feel him laying next to me. His slow steady breathing and his gentle but deep voice painting images in my mind. My dad is my storyteller.

It had rained way to much and the creek was out of it's banks the day before we went fishing. He knew that the fishing wouldn't be good but I probably bugged him so much that he took me anyway. We dug worms in the soft mud, placing them in an old coffee container. Then we went down to the creek. The sun was out but was beginning to go down for the day. We crossed the creek and fished down the other side. Together we stood up to our waist in the water. Within minutes my dad caught a fish, and I stared at him wondering how he did. He told me to cast up stream, and let it float down slowly. Sure enough after a couple of tries I caught a good size catfish which we kept. My dad is my guide.

I was never in a church that was big enough to have a youth minister. From the time I was in 5th grade till I graduated from High School my dad taught every one of my Sunday school and Wednesday night classes. He was always open, not fleeing from any topic, but dealing with each one. It still amazes me how he is able to make connections and see things in the Word and the world that I would have never noticed on my own. My dad is my teacher.

For the last two years my dad and mom have paid for my education, don't forget I go to private school. My dad gave me my first car and he paid for my insurance. I always have had more than I needed. I am spoiled every Christmas and birthday. I have always had a great house and a great yard to play in. Even now as I take on more things on my own, I know that he there to support me. My dad is my provider.

I watched my first dog die. I had pneumonia, it was around Christmas and the church was caroling and stopped to sing to me. My dog "pepper" (who was dumber then a box of rocks) ran into the street and was hit by a car. They laid him in front of me on the floor, and through my tears I slowly and painfully watched pepper die. I don't remember a lot else but I do remember my dad hugging me later and telling me that it was ok. My dad is my strength.

My dad and I watched Napoleon Dynamite together like every night over Christmas break, and we laughed so hard every time. Every spring we meet at my grandparents and go turkey hunting together. We talk every day. I tell him anything and everything, and he listens and gives advice, but also he talks to me. He shares his pain and his hurt. There is no one else I would rather laugh with, cry with, talk with, or fish with. My dad is my best friend.

2005-06-16T12:14:00.000-07:00

You know I can really type anything here and you'll think it's a glimpse into what I'm feeling or dealing with. I can give another great passage about the strength of God, or I can relate something to what I'm experiencing. I can compare what I'm going through with something so much worse and make it seem better. I could go into such a sorry story that you would really feel bad for me. I could change the subject away from me, and give focus to something else. Or I can be honest and write what I feel.
I'm drained and empty. It's a build up of a year or so with a climax that hit this week. It would be so much easier to just get drunk or pop something to take it away. There is a part of me in all honesty that is craving that. There's a part that wants to be just like the rest of the world. A part that can be very scary at times. Yet there is another part that wants to be strong. To try and stand again.
It's the relationships that I can't understand. All of them. I thought they were the answer. If I build this incredible relationship with God, and these unbelievable relationships with the people around me then I won't be lonely. If I let God and friends really, really know me then it will give me some kind of joy and happiness. Yet here I am, and I think that there are two major problems with this. The first is that when you let somebody in they don't have to stay there, they can decide to leave and hurt. The other is that a relationship with God has to be very distincively different then a relationship with other people. If I'm craving a relationship with God that I have with other people then I will be hurt cause it's not there. Now to figure out what kind of relationship I can have with God, and whether I should keep letting people in.
Sorry about the really depressing blog, but blue skies and rainbows aren't all I see right now!

2005-06-11T08:45:00.000-07:00

"Find rest, O my soul, in God alone;
my hope comes from him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
My salvation and my honor depend on God;
he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
Truest in him at all times, O people;
pour out your hearts to him,
for God is our refuge."

Psalm 62: 5-8

2005-05-23T08:01:00.000-07:00

One doughnut turns to another and asks, "Do you ever just feel like somethings missing?"

We have a void, something to fill, a part of us is missing. We crave it and confuse it. We try to fill it with whatever we can find: Drugs, Sex, Wife, Husband, Church, Work, Self Righteousness, Kids, Movies, Books, School. The list goes on and on plauging us with false satisfaction, false fullfillment, false hope. We are never complete. We are never perfect. Yet we thirst and we hunger. To satisfy we drink and eat. We try and fill it with whatever we can. Yet none of these things can satisfy. Why don't we come to him completely. Why isn't he the only name we cry out to? Why isn't he our only God?

Faith. Or lack of to be more clear. Feeble minds can't grasp him. We can't touch him or feel him. We can't smoke him or drink him. We can't control him or manipulate him. We can't turn him on and off. Yet we believe he exists. We know he is. We believe in his Sacrifice, his Son. We believe in his promise and in his forgiveness. I know that I am only complete, I am only full through him. So why don't I live it. Because I believe but I don't percieve. My faith is still not strong enough to lean on something that I can not grasp.

2005-05-16T23:14:00.000-07:00

I'm trapped in yesterday. Like a prison with only a single barred window to see out of. Weighed down by shackels and chains. I want to escape so badly, but it seems that every time I dare to unlock and run I'm yanked back by the weight of the past.

I'm lost in tommorrow. I'm always trying to find my way. Like walking through an early morning mist that never ends. I stumble onward thinking that in my next step the dull haze that I stare into will vanish. With every moment I'm pushed further into the vague future.

I want to live in the present. With my words and my thoughts. With my hopes and my dreams. With my faith and my heart. Can't they dwell in what I know here? Can't they linger about in this existence? Do I have to be trapped in yesterday or lost in tommorow? Can't I just be free and focused in now?

2005-05-15T00:12:00.000-07:00

This week was an adventure. I am staying the summer here, and was planning on living at my roommates grandparents in one of their spare bedrooms. I was really excited about it because it is out in the country and it is so peaceful, which is definitely a needed change from the dorms. On Thursday night I am talking to my roommates grandma and I say that I will move in on Saturday after all their family, who was up for graduation, leaves. To this she replies, "Well we've decided that we're not going to have any body live here this summer. There is just to much going on." This is very useful information to find out two days before you have to be out of the dorms.
To understand this story you must understand a little something about me, I don't get stressed. I mean I hardly ever, even when I'm way behind in everything, get stressed. I don't think it's a good or bad quality it's just who I am.
Well I FREAKED OUT! I mean I had not been that stressed in probably my entire life. Unfortunately it's like 10 o'clock at night when she tells me this so there wasn't a lot I could do at the moment. I call one of my wonderful and awesome friends and ask if I can crash on her couch for a while if I can't find a place to live and she is so awesome that she says yes. Yet I still spend the entire night in torment. I pray a lot. I meant a lot. The next morning I wake up and make a few calls and sure enough find a place to live. It was chaotic and crazy. I was so panicked and so stressed, and I was just so worried over where I would live. While everything was going on this passage from Haggai 1:9 hit me like a freight train.

"You expected much, but see, it turned out to be little. What you brought home, I blew away. Why?" declares the LORD Almighty. "Because of my house, which remains a ruin, while each of you is busy with his own house. "

2005-05-09T12:01:00.000-07:00

Almost done, only a couple of finals left and then I'm released into the bittersweet freedom that is summer. In response to the last post I had and to Keith's recent post (which you can click on here) I found this in my bible. It was written in the back under the notes section, which I didn't know I had ever actually used, and it was from Brian McLaren at last years Zoe Conference.

Are we. . .

Changing. . . Or changing our attitude toward change?

A loving reformation. . . or angry rebellion?

Dividing and rejecting. . . or increasing options?

Needing approval now. . . or later?

Throwing out the bathwater. . . or the baby too? (things to keep)

Reacting to the past. . . or reaching to future?

Shrinking the circle. . . or expanding it?

For our benefit and our institutions benefit. . . or for our children's and the world's?

Seeking human approval. . . or risking human disapproval for God's pleasure and glory?

I'm sorry for what I posted last time. It was angry rebellion deriving from entirely self-seeking motives. I'm tired of being a hypocrite about these issues. Was I any different than the man who was giving the sermon?

(By the way the link doesn't work because I don't have any clue how to do that, but it always looks so cool when everybody else does it and I wanted to look cool too. . . Keith's address is Keithbrenton.blogspot.com)

2005-04-26T08:56:00.000-07:00

End of the year is wearing me down. Tests, research papers, finals; they all have taken over my life. When I try to sleep I get so anxious that I'm not getting things done, that I barely get any rest at all. The worst part about it is that by the end of the day I'm so tired of thinking that I don't even enjoy blogging. It has kind of become a chore that I have to do, and my recent posts really reflect this. So I'm going to take a short break until I really want to post again and then I will.

But before I break. . .

I attended my grandparents church on Sunday. It was the first day of the gospel meetings. They were having a special speaker come in. His Sunday morning sermon was on how the Church's of Christ are right in being non-denominational. Jesus came up also. The preacher would lift his bible and say "this is where we find Jesus." hmmmm..... I hope I never trap Jesus inside a book. I hope I never confine him to words or imprison him in a leather cover.
Yet my favorite quote from the sermon was when the minister talked about how the mega church in his town (which of course he did not attend) had a daycare for up to 5 year olds that ran through the whole worship time. About this he said, "there is a playground and a bunch of toys and books and other kids to play with. They sure learn a lot about how to have fun, but they don't learning nothing 'bout God!" All I could think was they probably learn more about God out on the playground then you do in your office with your Jesus behind bars.

Sorry I'm ranting and raving, once again probably why I need to take a break, but when we stop seeking to ensure ourselves of our own correctness and start loving through our incorrectness the world will notice. Then maybe more than the usual thirty people will show up for a gospel meeting.

2005-04-17T22:08:00.000-07:00

I don't like to be touched. I never really have. My mom has told me that when I was young people would try and hold me and I was stiff as a bored. I'm still that way. I just don't really like it I don't know why. See to me touching is so unnecessary. I think it is because I'm such a word person. I think I can always just explain what I'm trying to express. I think that there are always words to depict and describe my emotions. If not words, then there are expressions. Such as tears, tone of voice, etc. So to me there has never been a need for touching. I'm so stupid sometimes.
There are very few people I touch. Especially since I left home. I miss the kind of touching that I thought I hated. When I would sit on the couch and my mom or sister would be laying there, they use to dig their feet under me. It drove me crazy! My youngest brother is a very touchy person and he used to just cuddle up with me when I sat next to him. I would always move away slowly, because I didn't want to hurt him by telling him not to touch me, but he would always just move closer. Really I'm just an idiot sometimes.
Words can't always express it. There are some things that take contact. There are emotions, feelings, commitments that need more than just words.

I need to let people touch me, and I need to touch people.
Isn't that what he did?

2005-04-12T10:23:00.000-07:00

There is a song by Rascall Flatt, called I'm Moving On. This song is a decleration of my spirituality, my hope, my life. It is about facing myself, my own glory.

I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons
Finally content with a past I regret
I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness
For once I'm at peace with myself
I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long

I'm movin' on

I've lived in this place and I know all the faces
Each one is different but they're always the same
They mean me no harm but it's time that I face it
They'll never allow me to change
But I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong

I'm movin' on
I'm movin' on

At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me
And I know there's no guarantees, but I'm not alone
There comes a time in everyone's life
When all you can see are the years passing by
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone
I sold what I could and packed what I couldn't
Stopped to fill up on my way out of town
I've loved like I should but lived like I shouldn't
I had to lose everything to find out
Maybe forgiveness will find me somewhere down this road

I'm movin' on
I'm movin' on

This is kind of what I spoke on this weekend, I didn't use this song, but today when I was listening it really spoke to what God is trying to say to me. I've been searching for so long, wondering when it is that I will find what God wants for me. I've been searching for my own way, my own truth, and my own life. I'm leaving that all behind, I've dealt with it, I've struggled with it. I'm moving on. I can't find my own, all I can find is His. It took losing all that I thought I knew to find it out, but now I can see that His life has been "patiently waiting for me." I'm moving on. I'm living for Him, not for me. I have become my own home, but I need Him to be my home. I offer it to Him.

Tommorrow night a couple of guys and me are going to seriously talk about doing a church plant in a few years. I ask that you will pray for us, that we can see what he wants, and not what I want.

2005-04-08T23:13:00.000-07:00

Today I'm speaking at an event my school is putting on called the Split. The men and the women will be seperate. I will only be speaking to the men, which is very exciting. I'm speaking on the topic "Wrestling with God, What is it God wants in my life?" I hope to blog about it later this weekend. I'm not seeking glory for this by blogging about it, but I truly ask that you will pray not just for me, but more importantly that God will inspire all of us through it.

2005-04-04T22:30:00.000-07:00

SIF

What does it mean to "know Jesus?"

There is a major problem in society with our obsession with T.V. The problem is not that we watch T.V., but that our lives are run by it. I had this problem in high school. My Thursday nights were schelduled around watching E.R. I had to watch it, and there was nothing more important than it. If I really could not be there, then I had it recorded and watched it as soon as I got back. Then E.R. went down hill and I got bored with it, but there was a new show on Wednesday nights called The West Wing and it was even better. So instead of Thursday nights, it was now Wednesday nights. I would literally have the youth group in my house, and would go into the other room and turn on the T.V. to watch it, that's how bad it got. That's not really the problem though, that is just one of the negative results of the real problem. My need to watch the show was because the relationships in my life were with characters on the show.

T.V. is so addicting because it creates false relationships in our lives. We fall in love with the characters in the shows. They inspire us and make us laugh. They always say the right things and always look perfect. They make us feel the way we don't in our lives, and the greatest reason we fall in love with these characters is because we don't have to do anything! We don't have to smile back We don't have to be the ones that comfort them. We don't have to get in arguments, and talk through tough situations. All we have to do is fall into our comfy chair with the official sponsors, a bag of Lay's Potato chips and a Pepsi, at 9, 8 central every week.

The problem occuring is that we have forgotten how to have real relationships. We live so vicariously that we don't know how to react to other people and truly interact with each other. We sit in our rooms by ourselves eating a T.V. dinner, while we watch the family on Seventh Heaven eat together. We're slowly but surely losing the ability to have real relationships in our lives.

This is a serious problem that is affecting our society, yet what bothers me even more is this. . .

I do this with Jesus.

He's calling me to a real relationship, one where he acts and I react. One where the emotion is real, one where the fear of life without him is so real it hurts. One where his joy is so strong inside me that I cannot be the same. And what am I doing? I'm sitting back and reading about his interaction with the blind man. I'm chewing on jelly beans while I do a thorough exegesis of Ephesians. How can I change? What can I do to build a real, speaking and walking interaction with Jesus? How do I truly fall in love with him? How do I develop a living relationship with a man who walked two thousand years ago?

2005-04-01T23:18:00.000-08:00

I wish I would have known Jesus. I mean in an earthly sense. I wish I could have touched him. I wish I could've been sitting amongst a silent crowd listening to him teach. I wish I could have watched him turn over the tables in the temple. I wish I could have been blind and then felt the mud and spit molded into my eyes by his calloused hands. I wish I could have been scared out of my mind, in the midst of a storm that I thought would take my life, and then heard the wind obey his command. I wish I could've been the one that asked him what the greatest law was, only to hear his reply. Watched him walk down a dirt road in front of me. Heard him pray early in the morning.

More than anything I wish I could have looked into his eternal eyes, and seen his passion and his love.

2005-03-31T06:41:00.000-08:00

I usually don't blog in the morning. My morning's are for studying. Usually I wake up at about 6:30-7:00 and spend an hour or more studying. I'm one of the those really scary college kids who are actually alive before 10:00. This morning I looked out my window, and I daydreamed. I haven't daydreamed in months, maybe longer. I mean I really let myself go. It was the sunshine outside my window. It played amongst the newly born leaves, and danced through the branches. It skirted the cars in the parking lot with shadows that seemed to drift against the warm asphalt. It was the color of the sky. Blue like the eyes of my little brother when he was young, against his blonde hair, the lightest most pure blue ever seen. It was the gentle breeze. Barely seen. Barely heard. Yet felt so tenderly against your renewed skin. I felt young this morning. I know, I'm not very old, but that doesn't mean that I don't feel that way most of the time. Not this morning. I felt like running barefoot. Maybe I'll just do it.
Let yourself daydream today. Let yourself escape. Go back, go be barefoot. I know I'm going to.

2005-03-28T23:26:00.000-08:00

I will continue with my struggles in faith tonight. What I’m sharing is very personal for me.

I do not feel guilty for my sins. I do not feel condemned, and I do not feel remorse. I thought that this was a good thing. I thought that I felt this way because I had forgiven myself, and more importantly that God had forgiven me, but the more I have prayed and thought about this, the less I think its true. I think that instead Satan is masking the guilt of my sins from myself. I think this because I am scared of my sin. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to recognize it. I don’t want it to even slip into the shadow of my thoughts. I want my sin to remain right where it is, just another part of my life, like taking a shower or walking to class, recognized but not emotionally and physically captivating.

So this is my struggle: Should I think about my sins?

I think that I am a dedicated Christian. I seek to do God’s will. I seek to present a holy and pleasing sacrifice to him, but I just do not feel guilty when I sin. It doesn’t mean that I am constantly sinning because it doesn’t affect me. I strive for purity in my life, because I know that this is what God has called me to, it’s just that when I do fall I don’t feel bad about it. Is this so wrong? I mean surely it is possible for God to forgive my sins even when Satan is masking the guilt of them from myself.

Yet can I truly understand the sacrifice of Jesus, the forgiveness of God, with out feeling guilty for what I’ve done? It was not until Martin Luther felt the unbearable weight of his sin that he claimed to understand the love of God. The same is true of Augustine and countless others. Is there a major part of my understanding of the love of God missing because I do not feel this way? Will I ever be able to fully understand his love for me without dwelling upon my sins?
I fear the answer.

2005-03-27T07:46:00.000-08:00

HE LIVES!

I LIVE!

Tainted no longer by sin, and consumed no longer by death, I stand alive, because he stands alive. I am full, because the tomb was empty. I am free, because he broke the chains. I am not scared, because he has conquered all. I am not the same, because he remains the same.

I bow, because he is risen.

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade - kept in heaven for you." 1 peter 1:3-4

2005-03-25T23:00:00.000-08:00

Still young and full of excitement, my two brothers, my sister, and I would take the clothes we had worn that day, and we would perfectly form them into a nest that sat outside our doors. Then after checking to make sure the nest was plently big, we would quickly crawl under our covers, and recieve a gentle kiss upon our foreheads from my mom. I can still feel that kiss, so cool against my forehead, whispering to me, you are my child and I love you. Then we would wait with smiles on our faces. In the doorway my dad would appear, his face worn from the day but with so much life in his eyes. He would come over and sit on the bed. Sometimes he would tell a story, sometimes read a chapter from a book, but it would always end the same. He would take the scruff that had grown on his face from not having shaved since early in the morning and he would rub it against my chest while making some stupid noise that i can not even venture to describe. I would squeel into laughter, and he wouldn't stop until I couldn't breathe anymore. Then he would tuck me in and kiss me on the forehead, and remind me not to get up during the night. I remember laying in bed imagining all the candy that would be hid throughout the whole house, and anticipating all the sugar that I would eat on for weeks.
That night it was all about the next morning. All I could think about was the next morning. I still remember those mornings, jumping out of bed, running around the house in my whitey tighties, searching intensly throughout the whole house, and finding every last peice of candy. Yet now what I miss, I mean what makes being away from home and my family so hard, isn't that morning, it's that night. It's watching my little brothers and sisters crawling into bed. It's feeling my mothers gentle kiss, and it's my dad's playful tickling.
This weekend is very hard for me, I miss my family.

2005-03-24T21:52:00.000-08:00

I'm going to continue in my struggles, but I've decided that it's not something I want to do continually, so I think once a week, maybe monday nights, I'll do it.

I can't talk tonight. I lost my voice. It's my allergies acting up again. See my voice is pretty important to me. I'm a waiter, and it's hard to communicate with the people you're serving when they can't hear you. I mean when they can't hear you ask what they want on their bake potato or if they'd like to do dessert tonight, it becomes very hard to do your job. It's so important to communicate well, especially when your job is to serve someone else. What I've discovered is that although they may not be able to hear me, I listen to them more carefully than I ever have. Not once tonight did I not get a person exactly what they asked for. I mean usually there is the occasional unsweet tea brought out when they asked for sweet tea, or a ranch instead of a french, but not tonight.

Maybe as Christians we should stop speaking so much. Maybe we should listen more. Maybe we should listen carefully to the question before we answer, and maybe we should answer only after they ask. What are people really asking for? John 4

"Will you give me a drink?"

"You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?"

"If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water."

"Sir, you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did also his sons and his flocks and his heards?"

"Everyone who drinks this water will be thirst again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him willl become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life."

"Sir, give me this water so that I won't get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water."

"I who speak to you am he."

2005-03-21T22:53:00.000-08:00

God loves me.

Those three words carry so much weight that I fear they will fall off the page. How is it that I know that God loves me? I respond to this in these ways. I know God loves me because he sent his son to die for me. So that I may be cleansed and washed clean of my sin that separates me from God. This is the cornerstone of my faith; Jesus is savior through the love of God. Yet it can only explain God’s love to me through faith. If I do not believe that Jesus died for me, or that Jesus is salvation than this claim is thrown out. This leads me to my second belief, I know God loves me because I exist. If he did not love me, and if he did not care about me, then why would he have created me? Surely God in his ultimate knowledge and unfathomable power did not create me out of curiosity. For if God was curious then it implies that there are things that God does not know or understand, and thus is eager to discover, and because God is ultimate knowledge there can be nothing he does not already know. Instead I say that God put humanity into existence out of his unattainably passionate love that which can only be found in God. It was because of this love that God created me so that I may exist in order to be fully loved.

Yet this is my struggle. If God loves me, I mean truly loves me, then why do I need salvation to begin with. Why did God ever allow me to fall? Why does he allow me to live in sin? Why could I not have just lived in his passion for all of eternity praising and glorifying. The allegory used in response to this is that of the relationship of a father and a son. If a father truly loves his son then he lets him go, to make his own choices and decisions so that, out of the fathers love, the son may be able to become not just an offspring of the father but his own person. Thus when he becomes his own person he is capable of being able to truly love in reply, a love of his own not just of the father. This seeks to explain why it is that God allowed us to fall into sin, so that we may be able to truly love him in reply, but this does not satisfy me with an answer. This implies that God seeks love from a substance that, through his power, is outside of himself, which means that he is incomplete. This also implies that if my existence is only in God then I do not completely exist, which also means that he is incomplete.

So I struggle. Why am I in this life of pain and hurt? Why am I so far from God? If he truly loves me, then why would he risk me not being saved? Why not just forever held in his arms? Surely there is nothing absent of me when I am held by God. Does his justice parallel this?

What do you think?

2005-03-18T22:27:00.000-08:00

I haven't been blogging much lately. I've been busy with school and work, but it is something that I'm really missing so I'm going to try and do a series of blogs which may help me get back in the swing of it.

This week in chapel at Harding we had struggles of the faith week, where people come forth and talk about the incredible bad things that they have endured and that have challenged their faith. I have decided that I'm going to do something similar. I'm going to share my struggles of my faith, but I'm going to be very open about them. My struggles aren't events that have occurred in my life, but they are questions that frighten me, and that I constantly struggle with. I ask as I begin to publish them, that you do not leave me "answers" that we've all heard a hundred times, but that your comments will be intoxicatingly deep, striving for real answers, even if we can't find them. (As I write that I remember how often I am inspired by the comments that you leave, and I am assured that you will continue the level of responses you often challenge me with. How great it is to have a body of searchers in discussion with one another.) I hope that these issues will challenge you as much as they've challenged me.

2005-03-14T21:44:00.000-08:00

Ten things I learned in New Mexico.

10. New Mexico is known for green chille, which for some reason they believe should be put on every food, even at Wendy's.

9. Evidentally the beginning of march is tumble weed season. You laugh but tumble weeds are very scary and dangerous creatures. We were attacked by hundreds of them and they travel down the road in big packs like angry wolves, except wolves aren't as fierce and scary.

8. The grow trout bigger in New Mexico. . . I mean A LOT bigger.

7. Just because it's seventy-five during the day, doesn't mean you should camp out, because you still wake up in the middle of the night trying desperately to open your eyelids that have been frozen shut.

6. It is possible to net two fish at one time in the same net, and not get a single persons line tangled.

5. Three guys that weigh over 220 pounds and two other guys can fit in a Honda CRV and drive eighteen hours, but only if it's spring break.

4. If you forget your sleeping bag in Arkansas you will be forced to share sleeping bags with a six foot six, 260 pound, hair covered, mostly naked man from Texas.

3. If you're ever in New Mexico and come across a native bead shop. . . DO NOT STOP!!!

2. In New Mexico there is a store called The Baby Exchange. That's just sick, give your kid a chance before you trade him in for a new one.

1. We all seek God. We search intensely in so many different places. We cry out in prayer that he will reveal himself. We stare deeply into the night sky as if to catch a glimpse. We interogate the scriptures searching for the Truth. We find glimpses of him in all these places, but over my trip I discovered the place where God is revealed the most is not in any of these places. The most important thing I learned, and may I never forget it, is that God is best seen in the people around us. As I spent so much time together with the four guys I went with, I saw God so visibly. When they laughed, when they gazed across a night fire, when joy exploded on their faces, when they slept, when they woke, when they prayed. May I always remember to see God in the people that are always around me, let me search for him their just as intensely as I do in other places. Maybe I'll discover a side of him I never knew. I know I've already discovered part of that.

2005-03-13T22:13:00.000-08:00

the lake above the dam with the mountains in the background

2005-03-13T22:08:00.000-08:00

Me with a nice 18" Rainbow

2005-03-13T22:07:00.000-08:00

My roomate's giant trout

2005-03-13T22:06:00.000-08:00

fishing

2005-03-13T21:50:00.000-08:00

Ben, Richey, and I standing in front of the Rockey's in the background, shirtless of course.

2005-03-13T21:44:00.000-08:00

To tired to type...but thought I would try and share some pictures of my trip.

2005-03-03T13:06:00.000-08:00

I don't do stuff like this. I'm to rational. Tomorrow is spring break. Spring break for me usually involves working, the rational decision, and making a bunch of money while everyone else is blowing all of theirs, but not this year. Four friends and I are taking a road trip to New Mexico. Yes I said NEW Mexico. We're driving 15 hours in a CRV and then camping for five days in 30-40 degree weather all in the pursuit of fish. Yep, fish. I will be spending five days fishing in the mountains of New Mexico catching 20 inch plus trout. See everybody is "getting ready" to go. Not me, I'm really getting ready to go. My bag is completely packed, I checked every item off my list, my fishing poles are ready to go, as is my tent, sleeping bag, pillow, and homemade trail mix. Yeah I'm that guy. I mean I don't go as far as to ziplock all my clothes, but I do fold them and put them in the bag, and then fold them all a different way to see if they'll fit better, and I'm going on this trip. I mean I'm probably going to end up on a milk carton, cause we have no clue where were staying. It's really pretty funny cause we have maps of the river and know all the spots, but we have no clue where the campsites are. I mean I've studied water levels, fly hatches, what there biting, the water temp, and weather conditions that affect the fish, but I haven't just called the number of the campsite to find out more about it.

See we like to prepare for what we really care about. When I pack to go to the beach, I check and double check to make sure I have my swimsuit. Same as when I pack to go to my grandparents, I make sure I have all my hunting equipment, I mean really check, but when it comes Sunday and time for church I always forget something. What is it we're preparing for?

Well no blogging for me for 6 days, I will miss you all, and I'll be back soon enough. Hey no great discussions without me, I don't want to miss anything. Actually if everybody could just stop blogging while I'm gone that'd be great, and that way it wouldn't feel like I was missing anything.

Time to heal and be refreshed, San Juan River here I come.

2005-03-01T22:32:00.000-08:00

It's hard to keep letting yourself be open. It's hard to keep putting yourself out there. Letting yourself be exposed, when you know how fragile you really are. It's hard to know when you let someone else know you, I mean really know you, your past, your present, your dreams of the future, that they can choose. They can love you, embrace you, hold you, or they can hurt you.

If my savior was flesh, if he was human and just as real as I am, then he felt that way.

Wow. . . I think I'm starting to understand. I think I'm finally realizing.

On the cross, hanging in pain. He felt it. I mean he felt the hurt, even greater than I can imagine. He loved us, He loved us so much. He opened himself, he made himself known, not just to a few, but to all. Then we didn't love and embrace him, we hurt him. We called on him to be crucified, and mocked him. We forgot all the healing he had done for us. We took his heart and we tore it and broke it. We hurt him. And there on the cross, abandoned and forsaken by the ones that he let know him, he calls on the one who never left him. The only one still there. "My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?" I can only begin to understand the pain he felt. I can only begin to comprehend it. I feel just a glimpse of it tonight.

I'm sorry Lord.

2005-02-28T22:05:00.000-08:00

Don't read this. I need to get it out of my system, and tonight I'm in one of those moods. So I'm warning you do not read this.

He had to make that tree didn't he. He had to plant it in the garden. He had to tell Adam you can eat from them all but that one. Yeah that one, don't eat from that one. Why couldn't He just not make the tree. He's God, surely just as much as he made the tree, he could have not made it. Then no pain. Then no sorrow. No loneliness. No longing. Just walking with him in the garden. Yeah I know all the flaws in everything I just said, but still he just had to make that tree.

What if he didn't breath life into us. What if Adam was never formed, and we never fell, we never needed salvation. What if we just never were. It's not depressing or scary to think about because we would never have known any different, we just would've never been.

I'm sick of people telling me God has a plan for me. If it's true then why is it such a mystery. Why doesn't he just come down and tell me? Why does he make me live in anguish? Why does he make us ache for him and long for him? Maybe God doesn't put certain people in my life for certain reasons, maybe people have free will, and come into my life because that's where they chose to come. Maybe things are going to go terribly wrong here in my life, because I get to choose. Because He's not choosing for me, I'm calling the shots. Even if I believe and I trust in God does that mean everything is going to turn out good. By being a Christian I'm given heaven. In his great mercy and power, through his great son, he gives me everlasting life, but maybe here and now is not as under his control as we want it to be. Not that it can't be. God in all that he is, could surely make me do this or that, but I believe he chooses not to. So if he's not in control of what I do, then why do I believe he's in control of what happens to me. I'm done with "It's OK God's in control". I'm seeking him and I'm seeking his will in my life, but as for him being in control, yes I give him control, but I'm not sure he's taking it just yet. I'm done with "It's ok God's in control," I'm moving on to "It's your life, make it happen." It's a lonely feeling, and it makes life a lot more (you and I want me to say scary, but thats not what I think) real.

You shouldn't have read all these depressing, partially crazy thoughts. But you did, and now I'm sorry. Tomorrow I'll probably wake up and feel totally different, but for tonight this is what I got.