Money Matters...

One of my biggest struggles throughout the course of my life has been in the area of finances. Namely in my ability to control my own. I could come up with all sorts of excuses or reasons that have led me to my current financial state, but the reality is that I have just never really tried to get a handle on my finances. I have always lived (at least partially) in the mentality that, if I worked hard enough, I would become rich and then money wouldn't be an issue. Is that a silly way of looking at things? Absolutely, but it's nevertheless true.

Several people, including one ex-girlfriend, have prompted me over the years to get help in this area, but I was stubborn and committed to figuring it out myself. The irony is that I knew all along that I wasn't going to get it on my own, considering that no other area of struggle in my life has ever been conquered by myself, but nevertheless I plodded along...and ended up in further trouble than I had previously found myself. Now, don't get me wrong, there have been some strides, but by and large I find myself today in the same place I was years ago, with no discipline or direction in the area of financial accountability. This morning I finally decided to do something about it. I called someone I have never met to ask them to help with one of the more personal (and embarrassment inducing) areas of my life.

Crown Financial is a Christian organization designed to help people get a handle on their finances and set up a financial accountability structure within which they can operate and thrive. I was told about it once by an ex of mine, but I never called, never researched, never did anything with the information really. I just continued to wallow in the same level of financial inadequacy that I had for quite some time...until today. I finally called the financial counselor that the organization had recommended to me, and let me tell you- it was about as difficult as anything I've ever done. It was as difficult as starting step studies and getting into recovery at church, as hard as admitting to a group of guys that I struggle with things, as gut-wrenching as being willing to be open and honest and engage community. This was difficult. But I believe it will be good. I have no idea yet what this process will look like, only that it too is a part of the development that I am undergoing in an ever increasing desire to be complete. It is a part of the process of living with unveiled face and reflecting the glory of God to the world, and of being the fragrance of God in the Earth. This next step for me is as important as any I've previously undertaken and I am looking forward to it, even if the process frightens me just a bit.

There's a Heaviness...

I'm currently sitting in a hotel room in Waycross, GA, where I've been for the past several days working audio at an evangelistic crusade for Rick Gage Ministries. It's been interesting to say the least. Between the rain lat night in the middle of the message/altar call, the KFC offering buckets, and climbing 25 ft up in the air everyday and risking life and limb for the sake of a stupid chain, I have a list of stories that will last me well into the next year. But a retelling of my experiences is not the point of this post.

As I have been here, I can not shake this overarching heaviness that is weighing on my heart. Beyond that, I can not figure out its source. I spoke with a friend of mine today about a similar situation and encouraged her to pray and ask God what was trying to be said, and what lesson was being conveyed in the form of this weight. Perhaps this is my way of doing that. Maybe this is my prayer to God. Or maybe it's just the ramblings of a frustrated 27 year old stuck in rural Georgia. Either way, things need to break, change, or let up. Some clarity needs to reveal itself soon, and some new horizon needs to dawn soon. So, yeah...what's this heaviness God? Put me on and free me from this introspective prison.

Add to that the feeling of loneliness that I have been experiencing of late. Most know that there was a recent breakup in my past. For the most part, I have purposely chosen to remain silent about it, save to a few close friends. But, it's been difficult. It's been difficult to walk through life (albeit relatively briefly) with someone you had allowed in so close, only to have it all wrest from your grasp so suddenly. The irony is that, even in that, I know it was all good and right for me. All of it- the meeting of this amazing woman, the dating, even the break up. All of it was good and a part of the further development and healing of my soul and mind. But that doesn't make it any less difficult. Seeing how God used all of it to heal me of wounds so deep that their denial was denied does not make the reality of the situations any less potent. Nor does seeing how I am in a much healthier place internally with a much better sense of self (my true self) make the feeling of loneliness any less real.

I'm not sure that this is going to be one of those posts that ends in resolution. I think this might just be one of those laments we find in the Psalms, where David just bitches and moans and shakes his fists frustratedly in the air. Yeah, pretty sure this is one of those moments. I'm frustrated, heavy, and lonely.

But God is still God, and that counts for something.

I guess it did resolve after all.

The Monday (okay Tuesday) After Easter

This is a repost from a friend of mine who is a pastor at Sanctuary Church in Tulsa, OK. I would say enjoy, but if you're like me, it will be more challenging than enjoyable...

Early on in the second volume of Luke-Acts, Luke records an early clash between the nascent church and the ruling elite of Jerusalem over the healing of a lame man who used to beg at the Temple:

"18Then they (the Sanhedrin) called them in again and commanded them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus. 19But Peter and John replied, 'Judge for yourselves whether it is right in God's sight to obey you rather than God. 20For we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.'

21After further threats they let them go. They could not decide how to punish them, because all the people were praising God for what had happened. 22For the man who was miraculously healed was over forty years old.

23On their release, Peter and John went back to their own people and reported all that the chief priests and elders had said to them. 24When they heard this, they raised their voices together in prayer to God. 'Sovereign Lord,' they said, 'you made the heaven and the earth and the sea, and everything in them. 25You spoke by the Holy Spirit through the mouth of your servant, our father David:

'Why do the nations rage
and the peoples plot in vain?
26The kings of the earth take their stand
and the rulers gather together
against the Lord
and against his Messiah.'

27Indeed Herod and Pontius Pilate met together with the Gentiles and the people of Israel in this city to conspire against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed. 28They did what your power and will had decided beforehand should happen. 29Now, Lord, consider their threats and enable your servants to speak your word with great boldness. 30Stretch out your hand to heal and perform miraculous signs and wonders through the name of your holy servant Jesus.' "

It was not long into the career of the early church that the confession and resultant way of life that issued from that confession (God raised Jesus, the one you killed, which means that a universal change of regime is underway) put the church at odds with the world (in this case, Jerusalem). Luke is quite explicit on this point. In Acts 2, the people of Jerusalem perceive the early church as an oddity. By Acts 3 they are perceived as an undeniable threat to establishment power. Something about the confession that God raised Jesus from the dead disturbed the regnant powers-that-be. That this antipathy should be understood not just a one-off historical irregularity but as the inevitable state of affairs between that group of people that confesses the Crucified One as the Living Lord and those who feel their claims to power slipping away at His displacing rule is confirmed by Luke's use of Psalm 2 as paradigmatic for the church's life in a hostile world - God reigns through his Messiah, that is, Jesus; and at this reality every other claimant to power writhes and rages. For his reign disturbs and threatens.

Christ is risen, the church declared yesterday.
He is risen indeed.

But the world knows this not. And even our very lives have yet to be redefined by the judging and saving word that the empty tomb represents. I wonder whether we're prepared to face the terror of a living Lord who reigns in and through and over our times, provoking us to newness even as he brings the present regime(s) to an end. I wonder whether we're prepared to lock eyes with the one whose fidelity exposes us even as it overcomes our own hatred of him. I wonder if we're prepared to accept the shape of the kingdom whose King calls us to new and dangerous expressions of neighborliness, mercy, justice, and community.

Christ is risen.
But are we ready for it?

I think that we are probably a lot less like the Spirit-imbued apostolic community and a lot more like the women in Mark who first encounter the empty tomb, who left in fear and silence, "trembling and bewildered" (surely this is Mark's way of provoking his own community to acknowledge their ongoing failure to embody the Resurrection reality in the world). We just aren't sure what we would do with a living Christ, or where we would put him, or how he fits in our safe little suburban ghettos, so we relegate him to the mystical and dare not talk about the material. I wonder, does the Risen one have anything substantial to say to whether or not a Christian should drive a Hummer or live in a million dollar home? Perhaps we are not ready to ask questions like that, but I think we should be honest about the fact that Resurrection is a trifle, a fairytale, a fable, a myth if we cannot ask questions like that ... if his world-subverting rule cannot call the shape of our taken-for-granted realities into question.

No, I think it would be too generous to suggest that we are like the women at the tomb in Mark 16. Rather I think it more accurate to suggest that we are like the conspirators in Matthew who sought to change the story to protect their vested interests. A risen Christ is far too troubling, too dangerous, too disturbing. Better to modify the details and mute the implications to protect the world we've erected unto ourselves than to wonder whether or not Resurrection might have something to say to, for instance, the racism and fear of the "other" that while unacknowledged still is undeniably encoded into the structures of most of our lives.

I'm just wondering this morning, the Monday after Easter, whether or not Resurrection means anything, or if it's just an empty cipher that provides us all with a sense of transcendence? I'm wondering why the populace is not threatened every year as the church makes her annual return to Golgotha and then, to the empty tomb?

Is it possible, I'm wondering...
IS IT POSSIBLE

that it's because we've turned Resurrection into an empty idea, into a Precious Moments illusion that makes us feel nice and warm inside all the while failing to provide an impetus or rationale for questioning, for example, whether a society that is sustained by a cultural ethos based on shopping can ever claim moral leadership in world affairs.

I'm just wondering.

Just wondering why Resurrection is not perceived as dangerous. Why the church's yearly return to the primal confession doesn't cause the powers to tremble...

Maybe, I'm wondering, we're missing something.

Seems to me that the news of Resurrection puts Christians in the Bible in an automatically awkward position. There are times of peace and quiet, to be sure, but more often than not wherever the news that "God raised Jesus from the dead" is announced in its thick, deep, salvation-historical, Hebraic, messianic, sociopolitical sense, Christians start dying or, at the very least, getting the living daylights beat out of them. It's arguable, I suppose, that the more morally robust a society is, the more capable it is of hearing the truth, but I hardly think that our culture is just so morally stout as to be capable of hearing the news about Resurrection and not panic... I think rather that the error lies on the side of an accomodationist Western church that knows how to say but not how to live "Jesus is Lord"; that is to say, "Caesar is NOT."

Or better yet...

Democracy is NOT
Capitalism is NOT
Consumerism is NOT
Nationalism is NOT
Militarism is NOT
America (and every other self-secured nation in the West) is NOT

For all these "powers" fall under the theological rubric provided by Psalm 2 and as such must too bend the knee to this Living Lord who judges and saves, and woe betide us if we become so safe in bed with our culture at large that we fail to maintain the theological (that is to say, prophetic) distance necessary to call these idolatrous powers into question; to be able to say, "This far you come and no further."

Christ is risen.
But are we ready for it?
Do we believe it?

It in a consumeristic, militaristic, nationalistic, narcissistic, hedonistic dogmatically pluralistic societal ethos, one wonders how Easter Sunday is still one of the most well-attended church services of the year. One might expect crowds to stay away in droves on this, the most dangerous day of the church calendar, and to attend instead during those ordinary seasons when we teach people how to be nice and have success in their careers (read: fit in in Western civilization).

This morning I am thinking that the gospel is not nice. It is not safe. And neither is the One it proclaims.

But it, and He, to quote C. S. Lewis, is good. With a goodness that so surpasses our perception of "the good" that it ought to disturb and terrify us. That it doesn't, that Monday after Easter Sunday can come and nothing is different, is an indication at least to me that the church in the West is sick, and probably dying, for we've lost the nerve to name the Name in all it's disturbing otherness, and so to challenge...

every rival Lord,
every rival politics,
every rival economics,
and every rival ethics,

that refuses to acknowledge the Resurrected one as Lord of all.

God help us.

Even Unto Death...?

There I was, standing and looking out over the Pacific Ocean in San Diego. In my ears played the refrain of a song off of ORU Music Ministries' album, "Until the Whole World Knows." While I enjoy most of the album, the one song that seemed to stick to me is one called "Persecution." Dark I know, right-but it's awesome. The basic premise of the song is that true worship and purification happen through the trials that we face and our willingness to walk through them and still sing out praises to our God. We eventually will join with the elders (that's for you Kelbert) and the scores of saints that have gone before in singing that our God is holy and is worthy of all praise. It's a haunting reminder that this life is not all that there is, and that our ultimate goal, our chief aim, is to bring about the praise and glory of our Lord.

Then I started thinking, what about those elders who have gone before me? In particular, there's this line in the song that really jumped out at me. As the song is resolving, the worship leader says, "we will be as those who boldly come before the throne and sing the elders' song...even unto death." Really? Unto death? The weight of that line is massive. The idea that we are called to sing worship to God, even in the face of death is a daunting reminder of my failure to even come close to that. It's so easy to praise God when things are going well, or more solemnly, when things are not going so well so long as there is an innate belief that it will all resolve itself to our good. But what of the idea that our praise and worship is to be extended even at the point of our death- when it is apparent that things are not going to work out like we want them? What of the stories of the saints and elders like Stephen who, even at the point of his death could look up towards heaven and see Jesus and then with his last breath speak forgiveness over those who were killing him? What of Paul and Silas, of the Apostle John, of Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela who could believe in and worship a Savior in spite of facing and embracing death in a very real and tangible sense? What do we do with those stories in a worldview that has no idea what it really means to "face death all the day long" as Psalm 44:22 says. Am I really willing or ready to worship God to the point of my death? Do I value His love and sacrifice to that point, or is it merely idle chatter and pretty (albeit haunting) songs that fill my day with no real connection to my actual life?

Let's take a step back. Is there anything for which I am willing to die? I would dare say that at this point there isn't- and that scares me. Martin Luther King, Jr. said "if a man is not willing to die for something he is not fit to live. " Could I extend it slightly and say that the person who has not found something worth dying for has not yet begun to live? I mean, consider it- if there is nothing for which we would be willing to sacrifice everything, then how can we accurately love anything? Do I rightly love God if I would not be willing in more than word to lay down my life? Is God enough, or do I think that adding to Him is necessary in order to fully appreciate and embrace life? Further, by adding to Him, do I take away from who he really is? Hint- the answer is yes.

And there's still one step further this journey is taking me. Am I willing to die...to myself. Now, I am not referring to the oft used reference of "death to self" referring to a subduing of passions and desires in pursuit of some as yet unattainable divine goal or spiritual "attitude." I am talking of my willingness to put upon the altar of my life any dreams and ambitions to see if, when tried by fire, they last and are found to actually be God's plans. We all make plans- it's in our nature to do so. We take into account our ambitions, abilities, desires, and any number of other factors in order to create a plan for our lives that we intend to walk out. Often, these plans are built out of a desire to do the will of God for our lives (however elusive that may seem to be at times), and we strive with all earnest to see them come about. But would we be willing to lay them down? I mean, Saul knew that he was doing God's work, and pursued it with as much vigor and fervor as he possibly could. Then God stepped in and changed everything. Moses was completely content living a life of luxury in the palace of the king until a situation arose that shook him to the very core of his being and sent him fleeing into the desert (where he would spend the remainder of his days). Abraham was a good man who became righteous simply because he "believed" when God called out to him. The key factor with all these people? God stepped in and they were willing to be changed. The key question for me? Would I be as willing to let everything I knew, everything I felt "called" to do, everything I was sure of be held by the master and shaped into what it is he precisely wants?

I sure hope so.

In truth, the Bible is replete with stories of men and women who were pursuing their plans and passions, only to have those plans shaken by an encounter with a very real God. Fishermen left their trade and their families to pursue an unknown man with a panache for pissing people off, shepherds left the comfort and familiarity of their flock to confront an army, and women left behind the established order and societal conventions in order to ensure that the gospel was preached and established. The ultimate flexibility of these people's plans met the immovability of a sovereign God's plans for each of us and the restoration of the world to Himself. I pray that I might be one who, as these did, would be willing to lay down what is firm in my mind for what is ultimate in His heart.

Lenten Reflection (yes, I wanted it to Rhyme)

So, here we are, right smack dab in the midst of Lent. It's an interesting time for many: people giving up stuff, talking about what they gave up, and in some cases, drawing closer to God in the process. My question right now is why?

Let me explain what I mean. Many of us go into Lent without a fully accurate understanding of its history. There is this pervasive misconception that it is somehow a season instituted through some biblical mandate to set aside very specific time surrounding the date of our remembrance of Christ's death to become more fully aligned with that suffering by...um...giving up XBOX? Yeah, there seems to be a disconnect there for me. I mean, isn't this season of Christ's death and subsequent resurrection supposed to be more of a time to remember how those acts bought us out of the hands of a fate far worse than death? Isn't Christ's resurrection, the cross upon which he hung, and the tomb in which he lay more about how we are now walking in "the righteousness of God" then how we should give up ultimately meaningless things to somehow remember him more fully? Don't get me wrong, I am all about pulling away from the everyday and the things which consume us to focus on getting to know God more, but how many of us actually do that? How many of us lay things down and actually turn our efforts and attentions that would normally be focused on ourselves on the one who created those same selves? Or is it (as it has been for me), something we do because giving up stuff for God makes us feel better about us, and somehow helps us feel as if we are a part of the process of sanctification/justification/righteousness that we are all called to?

Let's start with an obvious (according to the scripture) but often overlooked fact- righteousness is not ours to work towards. We have it, plain and simple. Christ's life, death and resurrection imparted to us a righteousness that we did nothing to earn, and couldn't if we tried. We were sinners, lost in a lifestyle of sin as imparted to us by Adam, but Christ came on the scene and through His life, death and resurrection, gave a new life of righteousness to us as the second Adam. Christ's sacrifice didn't give us a semblance of righteousness but rather the real thing, with all that comes with it. It would be unjust for God to allow death to enter the world through sin without us doing anything to earn that and then expect that we should have to do something to earn the restoration from that sin through actions of our own. So, first point- We ARE righteous even before we do anything because of Christ.

To the whole giving-up-stuff-because-it's-what-you-do-during-lent syndrome, I'm all for it...if. If that giving up is about us turning our affections for the things of this world (which are often so glitzy and seemingly glamorous) back to the one who created those things and gave them to us to enjoy (and who came into the world in such an unassuming way that many people missed it). It's not about turning away from those things for 40 days because it shows some piety or sacrifice on our part, it's about turning from those things for those 40 days and to God and saying, "now what do I do with this extra time/energy/mental capacity that has been freed up by me laying down some things that were cluttering up my life."

I, personally, am tired of people telling me what they gave up for lent, without them following that statement up with what they are now picking up...

You stopped watching television? Awesome, do you pray more?
You stopped talking on the phone? Great, do you spend more time on relationships?
You stopped facebook or myspacing (but who does that anymore anyway)? Phenomenal, do you spend more time in quiet reflection?

My question to myself as much as anyone else is, what is it about lent that is about building Christ up in our lives? Is this season just a time for me to say I gave someting up for God, or is it a time for me to look back and remember how I drew closer to Him, learned more about Him, and saw how the things I put so much stock in pale in comparison to the one who gave me every good and perfect gift to enjoy in the first place? Is this a season I grin and bear without my most recent and favorite crutch, candy, game, or distraction? Or is this a time when the hunger and desire for those things pushes me to discover who made them so amazing in the first place. I pray I continually look past the seen to the unseen, and past the things I can give up to He who created all things and called them "good."

Pursue. Original.
D

Don't get wasted

So...today is Ash Wednesday. Funny thing is that, as I was driving into work this morning I realized that, though I have been a Christian for the vast majority of my life, I have absolutely NO idea what the significance of this day is. So, I endeavored to find out. I called a buddy of mine, Andrew Arndt, who is the Associate Pastor at Sanctuary Church in Tulsa to try to get some clarity on this whole deal. It was enlightening to say the least.

We all die. There it is, plain and simple. No one likes to think about that, nor do we like to confront the realities of our mortality, but the truth is the truth- we will all kick the bucket at some point (Thank you Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman). At the point of that death, the Bible indicates that we will stand before a Holy God and face judgment for how our lives were lived while on the earth. Therefore, the crux of Ash Wednesday is summed up in this passage from Genesis 3:19

"for dust you are
and to dust you will return.”

But, more than that, the question that it begs (as Andrew so graciously pointed out) is, what did we do with those passing moments we had on this earth? What did we do with the gift of God called life while we were living it? Now, I'm not talking about adhering to some moralistic code of ethics. I'm not talking solely about whether or not we were nice to our siblings, or gave money to the homeless guy, or kicked the neighbor's stupid dog for barking in the middle of the night for absolutely no reason and keeping half the neighborhood awake on the eve of one of the most important nights of your young life (what- too specific?). No, I am talking about the things that matter- the eternal things.

A rather popular quote within Christianity is "only what is done for God will last." How true. If it is true that God is eternal and His plan for humanity has been playing out for His glory and our good since before time began, then wouldn't it make sense that anything we try to do outside of that plan and outside of a devotion to Him would be utterly futile? Wouldn't it make sense that whatever we do apart from Him would ultimately be destined for failure in the eternal sense? But where does that leave us?

I propose this- that a life submitted to the purposes of God is worth more than all the "success" and accolades that humanity can bestow upon us. I submit that there is a purpose to which each of us has been called and that it is a part of a bigger purpose for the glory of God in the story of mankind. I submit that all of our dreams and ambitions, our talents and ideas, our hopes and our vision, when rightly given over to the God that gave them all to us in the first place, can be a part of something amazing. Now, I dare not define "amazing" in the sense that the rest of humanity does. Yes, for some that will mean accolades and esteem, with their names being lauded and shouted from rooftops (proverbial or real). But, there are still countless others who will live their lives in relative silence, without the world ever knowing their names, or what they did to advance the cause of Christ. But what makes either of these positions better or worse? Nothing but our perception.

We, in our prideful and narcissistic states, long for recognition. We want to be the ones that are known, the ones that are lifted up, the ones whose impact is seen as "making a difference" in someone's life. But, beyond our own selfish ambition, the question that begs is why? We have become so good at masking our selfish hearts within seeming altruistic intentions, believing that if we fool enough people into believing that we just want "the betterment of humanity" and the "glorification of God" by our ambitions, then we have done something for the kingdom. But God doesn't need our ambition, he needs our submission.

Paul in Philippians 2:17 says "Yet even if I am being poured out like an offering as part of the sacrifice and service I offer for your faith, I rejoice, and I share my joy with all of you." There is no ambition here, no pride gilded in tarnished altruism, no desire for the glorification of self. Paul is quite simply desiring to be whatever God would have him to be so that some might be saved. Where is that in my life?

Where is my desire to simply be a conduit for the glory of God to be revealed? Where is my desire to simply be a part of the story of God's power and plan in humanity, regardless of how my part in that story plays out? Where is my desire to simply be "poured out" upon whomever and whatever He chooses? Have I become so guilty of setting sights on things below that the things above lose their luster? Have I become so ensconced in this world (which is but a vapor) that its picket fences, comfortable living, and recognition are all that matter? Am I wasting my life in the pursuit of that which will bring moments of fleeting fancy while on this earth, but leave no one with an impact that will last into their eternity?

John Ortberg by way of Andrew sad something that will probably resonate with me for quite some time. In the pursuit of God's glory and purpose in our lives, it should be our purpose and our chief aim to "be poured out and not wasted." May that ever be my prayer.

What comes next

I'm not even going to try and apologize for not writing in a long time. Not going to attempt to make some vain promise about how I will get better. I probably won't. But at least I'm aware of the problem- right? :)

So, we're in the midst of a transitional time in my life. I'd love to say that I exactly knew from what I was transitioning, or to what I was transitioning, but that answer currently seems to escape me. All I can say is that I'm going somewhere because where I've been for these past several years just isn't working.

These past few weeks have been interesting for me. The best way I can think to describe them is in the words of Charles Dickens in A Tale of Two Cities, "It (is) the best of times and it (is) the worst of times." Right now it feels as if everything that I once thought I understood is being stripped away, and all of my concrete ideas are suddenly turning to some indiscernible mush that is increasingly difficult to stand on. If you read The Painful Inbetween it will give you a better sense of where I am right now. And though that place hasn't necessarily changed, I am not going to revisit that right now. Instead, on to Mr. Dickens' statement.

It really is the best of times right now, not because of what I am currently experiencing, but rather because of where I have to believe that all of this is leading me. It's like what Paul says in Romans 8:18, "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us." I get it. I mean, I understand that there really is some greater purpose to which we have all been called. I am "not my own," "bought with a price," the whole bit. I really do see how this short time of struggle (because in the grand scheme of things, 6 years really isn't that long), is nothing compared to what God can and will do in my life over time. So, I understand how this is the best of times, because it's a part of some grander (yep, I said grander) plan, some plan that has yet to be revealed and will ultimately be a part of the story of life that we all live out together to His glory. It really is the "best of times."

But it's also "the worst of times." As I stated previously, nothing I planned for my life has worked out the way I thought it would. I'm kind of at an impasse with nowhere to look but up. Everything that I have ever in any way found identity or solace in is kind of being stripped away from me right now. I love my job, but can't stay here financially and am working two others just to make ends meet. I've been involved in two accidents in the span of a month that my insurance company has seen fit to deem my fault, my girlfriend and I are no longer together, and I have no really strong friendships in Dallas right now to draw on. To say it's hard is to make one of the truest understatements I have heard in quite some time.

But I'm still hopeful. I still know that this is all a part of some plan that I can neither control, nor fully understand. Everything does happen for a reason, and even in the midst and in spite of the pain- God's bigger, and His plan is being worked out. Bread comes to me daily, and I need to learn to accept that, even when I don't understand why things are happening the way they are and even if I would have chosen a different path.

There's a great couple of verses from the Caedmon's Call song Table for Two that really sticks out to me right now:

Well this day's been crazy
But everything's happened on schedule
from the rain and the cold
To the drink that I spilled on my shirt
'Cause You knew how You'd save me
before I fell dead in the garden
And You knew this day
long before You made me out of dirt

And You know the plans that You have for me
And You can't plan the end and not plan the means
And so I suppose I just need some peace
Just to get me to sleep.

Help me God to get to sleep, not in the sense that I am lackadaisically going through life, but rather in the sense that I rest in the knowledge that it's all working out for a greater good and a greater glory.

Pursue. Original.
Damany

The painful in between

Yes, this is a repost from todaygrace.blogspot.com, sue me...

There's this interesting concept that's been rolling around in my head.  It's something I haven't been able to shake for quite some time and since it is all too well known amongst my friends that I process best when I write, I figured I would give it a go.  My question is this- at what point does dreaming become an exercise in futility?  More specifically, at what point do we retire (or perhaps put on hold) the pursuit of dreams for the realities of surviving in daily life?

I was raised in a household that taught and encouraged my sisters and I to shoot for the stars, to believe that anything could be accomplished, and that there was nothing which could not be done if one put their minds and expertise to it.  I grew up believing that failing was to not try, not to not succeed when you did (was that confusing to anyone).  I saw a father who, even at the point of his death, had not seen the realization of his dreams- but even then he dreamed.  He left behind a strong name, passion for people, and an ability to dream that was unmatched, but not necessarily a sense of what it looked like to see those dreams accomplished.  Of late, I have felt that I have been following suit.  What I mean is this- I have been striving for some indeterminate dream for quite some time now...and I still don't seem to be getting anywhere for all my dreaming.  

More times than I can count, I have struck out with little but a dream- no plan, no actionable items, just a passion to do...something more than I currently found myself doing.  And, more times than I can count, I have found myself in this exact place- desperately wanting more, but being confronted with the reality that what I have now is barely enough.  All around me, I see friends and associates accomplishing their dreams, I see what appears to be God's blessing on the various aspects of their lives.  I see marriages thrive, careers taking off, lives being lived with a joy and an abandon that only comes with something I can't quite put my finger on.  And here I sit with a dream that is as of yet unfulfilled.  I sit in between what I feel is a destiny and the reality of the shortcomings of my right now, and it hurts.  

It hurts because I feel directionless at times.  It hurst because I feel like I'm spinning my wheels without really gaining any traction.  It hurts because I don't even know how to make it stop.  And before you pose the standard answer, yes I pray- dear God do I pray!  I pray for direction, I pray for correction where I'm missing it, I pray for favor, I pray for humility, I pray for boldness, I pray for inventiveness.  Truth be told, I pray for anything I can think of that will help me get past this, this...place that I've been in for far too long.  And yet I'm still here.  And I don't know what else to do.

But do I give up on dreaming?  Do I decide that the pursuit of a dream isn't worth it, and instead decide to chase the available and expedient?  Do I fold my hand and throw in the cards (ironic references considering that I suck at all things gambling) and instead decide to just drone on through life?  We all believe, or at least want to believe, that there's a more to which we are called; a greater that we are supposed to accomplish.  But what is that for me?  There are talents and abilities that people continually point out in me, but where have they ever gotten me- I mean, really gotten me, in the long run?  Better yet, have I held onto my supposed "talents" for too long when I should have just been putting nose to the grindstone and doing what was necessary to survive daily?  Yes, I mean regular things like just getting a "regular" job that has things like benefits and health insurance.  But I also mean so much more and so many other things which are entirely intangible.  Things like is "fulfillment" that important in your job, or is that just a crutch to keep you from working hard at something you don't particularly care for?

I've got more questions than answers right now.  There will undoubtedly be more to come.

Kroger Randomness...

So, it has again been a while since last I blogged.  Partly, this is because I am blogging regularly at a new blog authoured by several friends of mine, todaygrace.blogspot.com, and quite honestly it is mostly because I just keep forgetting.  I would promise that I will get and /or be better, but all I can promise is that I will try...really, really hard.  But enough of the potentially empty promises, let's try to update you on the past month...

But first, a digression.  I am sitting at Kroger grocery store (because they have free internet and are extremely deserted at midnight on a sunday).  As I sit here I look up, only to be greeted by the sight of two girls walking around in the most curious and unnecessarily scandalous outfits I think I've seen in a while.  One is in the standard, "I am going out on a Sunday night" attire, with the too short shorts and shirt that shows a middrift.  And, just in case you were wondering if I were posting this blog a little late (say a summertime blog for instance), know that it is in fact December 28 and it in fact like 40 degrees outside.  Warm by some standards for sure, but definitely not "warm."  This idea is further ensconced by the fact that nher friend is wearing a semi-winter jacket with her own too short, ass hugging shorts and unnecessarily tall heels.  Is the need for atention so great that you will risk the discomfort that is sure to accompany such an outfit in this weather only to be noticed by someone of the opposite sex?  But then I think, is this really all that different from ridiculous machinations that I have found myself engaging in to be noticed and applauded?  Not really I suppose, just a different shade of the same stupidity.  Nevertheless, here's a picture of this particular shade (not the greatest picture I know, it was off my phone)...

Ok, other things.  I have spent the past several days in rural Missouri visiting/meeting my girlfriend's family.  For those of you who follow my twitter account or facebook page, you know that the first night I was there I broke her family's oven...on Christmas Eve!!!  I'm still alive and a series of jokes at my expense filled the rest of the week- good times (no seriously, it's all good). Spending time out in the middle of relatively nowhere was good on a number of fronts.  I was cut off from my normal overconnectedness that comes in the way of facebook, twitter, myspace, multiple blogs, multiple email addresses, texting, calling...you get the point.  I got the opportunity to spend time- actual time- thinking and processing, visiting with Carly and her family and just confronting the realities of being.  It was awesome.  I won't be naive enough to say that I succeeded at being regularly, or even often, but I was at least aware of the need to be since there was really nothing else to do.  Ok, I'm rambling now...

Suffice it to say that this week has been great in the sense that it has forced me to question some things that I hold as a part of who I am.  It's not so much that I think this connectedness to the outside world is a bad thing, but it has given me pause to wonder how much of it is really necessary and how much of it is an opportunity for me to fill my life with stuff and avoid...something.  So, it's a proces'ssing time for me and there are a lot of questions on the table.  Carly's been good to pose some of the questions and it'll be interesting to see what answers God leads me to.  

P.S. Last night, Carly met Best Friend Trae (or just Trae) while we had our brief stay in Tulsa.  I don't think she was prepared for the excitement and silliness that is our friendship union.  She rose to the occasion though, and jumped right in to the sarcastic silliness.  I have the best girlfriend ever.  Here's a picture they will both hate me for posting...

P.P.S. A woman just walked into Kroger in her bathrobe to rent a movie from the little movie renting kiosk.  I love late night Kroger.

An update of sorts...

So, I looked and realized that I haven't blogged in over a month. My bad folks. Currently I'm in Florida visiting mi madre for Thanksgiving and so far it's been fun. My brother is here, and though none of my other siblings were able to make it out, it has been nice to hang out with him, his new wife and his three kids (whom I seldom get to see), and of course my mother. I am still working at Outback, though I will now be assuming more responsibility by taking over the outside sales for my store. Essentially I am trying to get people to use Outback to do catering for them and trying to develop successful relationships with organizations and businesses in the community. I'm looking forward to it as it gives me the opportunity to work in sales by selling something I actually love- food :).

Additionally, I have started dating an amazing girl- Carly Sue Pickens. Yes, the same Carly referenced in the preceding post of almost a month ago, and no I wasn't hiding anything from you or hinting at anything by including her name or picture in the preceding post. The story of how we met and subsequently came to be a couple is one I enjoy telling (much to her eye-rolling chagrin), so if you're interested in hearing it, let me know.

Outside of that, there really has not been a whole lot going on. Life's good and I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. In the meantime, I'll try to get better about writing about it as I live it. Talk to you soon, gotta go have another plate of food...

Pursue. Original.
~Damany

Self Heating Meals...

This isn't a deep one, merely a random outtake from my life. So today, I had a meeting with the Executive Director of the Champions of Hope mentoring program- Carly Pickens. We were meeting to talk about possible marketing initiatives for CoH and ways to turn that into fundraising opportunities. In all, a great meeting with a cool person I met because of a bad-ass church, The Village (yes I called my church bad ass- you should check it out at www.thevillagechurch.net). CoH offices out of a church in one of Dallas' more underprivileged communities, Cornerstone Baptist Church. Occasionally (ok, regularly) Cornerstone will get donations of some of the most random stuff imaginable. A few days ago it was a 6 foot baby grand piano. Today- foodstuffs.

Now, I am hesitant to refer to it under the stricter guideline of "food" because it had a rather ominous label on it which indicated that it had a 3 year shelf life. How any real food could have that long of a shelf life is beyond me, save an overwhelming amount of preservatives and processing to the point that you fear a certain amount of glowing light may emanate from the packaging when the lights are turned off. My assumption is that this food was designed for the military, and when even they didn't want it, the remnants were pushed off on the unsuspecting public. Now, the extended shelf life isn't what made this so unique or blog worthy, it was instead the "self-heating" properties so boldly advertised on the packaging. That's right folks, no microwave needed here. Just open the bag, pour in the water (supplied of course) insert the foil lined, vacuum sealed food pouch, and watch as the chemical reaction takes place, making a seemingly innocuous element in the bag heat with enough intensity to heat an entire meal (in our case it was chicken and dumplings) to a "just right" temperature. It's really quite ingenious. That is, except for the ungodly smell created by the heating element, and subsequently the food once the pouch was breached. It was so bad in fact, that we had to hurriedly cast it out of the room in the hopes that we could exorcise it of the awful aroma.

Needless to say, we didn't eat any of it.

I'm sure this seemed like a brilliant idea to someone on paper and posed a lot of great potential. In actuality, however, it proved to be a tad bit...well, awful. The worst part though, is that somebody along the way had to know how bad this would bomb and how terrible it smelled- but no one stopped production. It instead trudged along through production and delivery, where it was destined to languish in misery upon store shelves until mercifully being withdrawn, recalled, or outright given away. This makes me think about my own life and that of those around me. How often do we start down a path that looks promising and, instead of aborting the plan when it becomes apparent that we were wrong, we continue on doing the same things, even as our actions and lifestyles reek of bad decisions and missed callings and opportunities? Even more daunting is when those of us around people who are following down a destructive path don't speak up, even though they know the actions will just leave the person stagnated and on the shelf for years. Why?

Why don't we speak up, change our course of action and see where better decisions take us? I'll tell you why. Because complacency and comfortability is often more acceptable than difficulty and work. Sure chopping carrots, cleaning chicken, and stewing dumplings is hard work. But in the end, the payoff is something people can actually use. Think about it. Ok, I lied, maybe it was a little deep.

Pursue. Original

todaygrace.blogspot.com

Ok, so I have the privilege of announcing a brand new blog, Grace for Today. Over the course of the past several years, I have had the privilege of being introduced to some of the most provocative thinkers, brilliant and hilarious people, and touching Christians I have ever known. A few of these people have banded together and started a multi-author blog that is all about the constant search for Grace and Faith in "unexpected places." Ultimately it's about each of our journeys through life and how we confront and meet God along the way. It's got no censor, no regular framework. Ultimately, we'll just write about life and see what happens from there. I encourage you to check it out and subscribe when you get a chance. Thanks to Kelbert McFarland, Brittany Loose, Russell Hall, Din Tolbert, and Laura Cooke for allowing me to be a part of this awesome experience.

Pursue. Original.
todaygrace.blogspot.com

Grace

Grace sneaks
Like the tiniest of butterflies
Flitting by unannounced
Breaking through our vision
Grace speaks
In the tiniest of voices
And we, listening close
Strain to hear what we don't deserve
And to tell its story to the world

The Midst

At 1:00 in the morning, I find myself still awake. I'm sitting here, under the amber glow of a light poolside at my apartment, looking around at the rows of neatly distributed domiciles, each with their own set of lives unfolding inside. These are people who, living in such relative and real proximity to each other, still know next to nothing about the goings on behind door #...fill in the blank. As I sit, the generous aroma of a well seasoned and (obviously) lovingly prepared meal wafts to me from across the expanse, and I watch as an apartment still abuzz with activity opens its doors to a seemingly endless parade of late night revelers. They aren't loud, not boisterous, but each seem to pass through the doors of this particular space with a sense of familiarity that only comes to family, or those who would be called family. And it's in this moment that I realize that I miss that.

I miss the idea of late night dinners that begin well after the prescribed or healthy eating times as defined by some "expert" somewhere. I miss the sense that the open door is in fact just that, a portal into a place where you know that you are welcome, and beyond that- family. I had it once. We were all in our early 20s (well, except for Rocky but that's what made him so cool), all relatively fresh out of college, and all muddling through this life thing as best we could. We lived in what was lovingly called the "House of Deception," for the uncanny way in which its residents could get you to believe, collectively, most anything that came out of any individual's mouth, no matter how far fetched. More often than not, it was just called "The House." It was great. The house was a ramshackle place with a foundation that had so badly shifted that the front door barely closed, and never locked. The carpet that lay everywhere (yes, including the kitchen and bathroom) was all that stood between us and the drafty breeze of a floor with more cracks in it than any of us dared to count. It was a welcoming place; the kind of place where you never knew who could walk through the door at any moment, completely unnanounced, and absolutely without knocking (let's not even try to count the number of mad, towel-clad dashes to the bathroom were attempted). Sitting in a corner sat a much too out of tune upright piano and a far too often used (at all ungodly hours of the night) foosball table. It was in many ways the quintissential bachelor pad, and it was awesome. Those that regularly found themselves inside its sagging, sloping, paint peeled walls were affectionately referred to (by each other) as "the family." We were a motley crew of musicians, actors, lovers of music, tone deaf business people, and slightly neurotic divas. We were in every way a family, as hodgepodge as we might be.

This is the place where I experienced God in ways previously unimagined. This is where spontaneous worship happened as one or several people would randomly begin strumming a guitar and singing songs that may have started out as nonsense, but soon morphed into the most beautiful melody lifted to a beautiful Lord. This is where, in the absence of a drum, time was kept on whatever we could find- a trashcan, pot, table or the floor. This is where we prayed because we wanted to. Where we saw tears shed and hearts mended and broken. This is where life happened. This is where life began.

Why do I bring all this up? Because we've lost that. Let me not be so grandiose in my statements- I've lost that. The sense of wonder that comes from sitting on a back porch with a friend, wrestling through life with a beer and a cigar, or the pain of a love that's unrequited while the joy of someone else's newfound beau takes centerstage. The idea that we really aren't alone in all this because the people around us, quite literally around us, are as different and as beautiful as any tapestry woven by a master. These ideas are almost foreign to me now, so far removed from them am I. But, still God is so close.

He's as close as the reminder that family exists in late night romps in moldy public fountains where we ran from the police, as close as stars that seem to shine brightly in the midst of turmoil, as close as whisps of smoke that rose from the end of embers as if trailing prayers to heaven, as close as the smell of dinners carried on the winds of dawn's impending arrival. God is as close as our embracing each other and every moment that comes our way. For it is in those moments, where two or three are gathered, that He is in the midst. May we- may I- find Him there and may I always be searching for the moments that all too often escape me.

Musings at 27- I'm still "here"

This is not where I thought I'd be at 27. Truthfully, though, I don't know that I had a plan for this age. 27 is one of those interesting, non-milestone years that people often don't think about. It comes right in the middle of lower car rental rates and a number that people of all classes dread, the big 3-0. Not sure why, but maybe I'll realize it more soon as it looms steadily closer.

That being said, this still isn't where I thought I'd be. I don't know, maybe the constant talk of potential and connection when I was younger led me to assume that by now I'd be more...more...more something. A full time career I love, romantic pursuits, a more steady life- something. Instead I find myself here. And where is here?

Here is the place where, though settled in the existence of a bigger purpose in my life, I still have yet to really know what it is, much less see it. Here is living someplace new (again) with a cadre of close associates and neophytic friendships but with not much in the way of true relationship depth. Here is working at a place I love but never thought I'd be. Here is looking upward with a certain sense of puzzlement wondering what the hell it all means. Here is an interesting place.

But somehow I'm reminded that here isn't so bad. As I look out at the landscape of my life, through the lens of history and remembrance, I can't help but be reminded that I'm still "here." Despite the struggles, the loss of a parent, a house, a job- I'm here. Despite homelessness, carlessness, directionlessness- I'm here. Despite feeling alone at times, forlorn at times, cast adrift at times- I'm here. Somehow, through all of that (and so much more) I'm still standing, looking upward and saying, "what's next?" Somehow God has still seen fit to hold me under the shadow of his wings and keep me from caving in, from cracking under the weight of what, at times, seems like immeasurable pressure. Somehow, though I'm pressed, I'm not crushed, though at times I have felt persecuted, I know I'm not abandoned; though I may feel struck down, I'm not destroyed. Somehow I'm still here with a smile on my face. Somehow I'm still committed to telling the story of deliverance and grace constantly being worked out in my life. Somehow I know that, in spite of it all, "here" is where I'm supposed to be. May I ever live in the revelation of living "here" to the fullest.
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Where is the Church?

A lot of conversation has begun of late over the socialization of our society. With the election fast approaching and one of the major tenets of one of the candidates being seemingly "socialized medicine" I felt it prudent to address a cause for concern that has crept up in society over the last several decades. Namely, the disengagement of the Church from social responsibility.

Now, when I say social responsibility, I am not just talking about whether the Church should care about greenhouse gas emissions, pollution, crime and the like (though I think they should). No, I'm talking about the Church's imperative to look after "the least of these." Very clearly throughout the Old AND New Testaments (for those that believe the NT to be all that matters) the Bible outlines that we are to love the Lord and in so doing love those around us. I don't believe this to be in an "I love you and will thus speak high-mindedly to you about what that love means" type of way. No, I think this is the hands on, experiential kind of love that causes you to eat with beggars, commune regularly with "sinners," and find yourself in the company of those "less desirables" that are a regular (albeit regularly overlooked) part of all of our lives. I'm talking about shaking up the "American Dream" that so many of us (myself included) have adopted as God's obvious vision for our lives. We were obviously destined for a life of lavish comfort and contentment because God wants us to prosper until our 401Ks, Roth IRAs and pension plans overflow with milk and money. But is this really what it's about?

Yes, "a wise man leaves an inheritance to his children's children," but if all we have to leave behind is an ever increasing reliance on stuff given value by how much other people want said stuff, how worthwhile is the inheritance? How worthwhile is it to gain the whole world and lose your (or your neighbor's, or the prostitute hooking to feed her kids, or the displaced vet on the corner's) soul?

Now don't get me wrong, I believe in the power of a hard day's work, of the ability of the interminable human spirit to rise above adversity and succeed against all odds, and of God to give us strength to face any and all obstacles. But does that then absolve US of the responsibility to reach out to help those whose struggles seem a little too difficult for them to bear? Does that give us the right to automatically assume that person X's struggle is because of factors they CAN overwhelmingly control? Does that mean we are not called to help because they should have just worked harder? I'd dare say not.

I am the product of a loving union between a philanthropist/preacher father and a community activist turned bank vice president turned teacher mother. Raised in a middle class home in a middle class neighborhood bordered by the ghetto (gunshots and sirens were occasionally my lullabies). They were married and in love until his passing in 1999. I have a college education, skills beyond my years (some say), and an ability to face and overcome adversity. But I've been homeless. I've been steps away from living on the street, having no job (though I tried desperately to get one), no car, and no money. Was I lazy? Did I not work hard enough? Did I mess up and therefore deserve the life I found myself in? I'd venture to say no. I'd venture to say that sometimes life, in its imperfect, fallen state, deals you hands that you neither want nor expect. Hands you can do nothing to stop and can only play as best you know how. Sometimes, life's just shitty. And sometimes, no one around you can ever truly know (though they may assume- as some of my "friends" did) why you are where you are. Sometimes, the best they can do is pray (always a good start) and offer plates of food, a couch or warm bed to sleep on/in, occasional work where they have it, and understanding...lots of understanding. Because it's humbling to be despondent, humiliating to ask for help when by all accounts you shouldn't need it. It hurts to be weak or in need. But that's where the Church is supposed to be focusing our attention- on the hurting and the needy. We are to pursue the "pure and undefiled religion" of James 1:27 and do so without judgement or assumption of the guilt or innocence of those to whom we extend mercy and grace.

But we don't. Instead, we become internally focused, spending our days worshipping and seeking after "God the provider," often forgetting that we are the hands of that same God to provide for the less fortunate around us. We want our house, our car(s), our happiness and to hell with the poor schlub who can't make his own stars align. We don't believe it is the world or the government's responsibility to provide for those disenfranchised around us. And it's not- it's ours and we've- no, I've been- sleeping at the wheel for far too long. We don't want the government providing aid to those who "can" work for themselves. Great, then let's do more than talk about the problem around our watercoolers before returning to our cushioned desk chairs in our air conditioned offices. Let's do more than look at the rate of homelessness in our cities while we shake our heads. Let's be better than those that blame the pregnant teenager, crackhead, drug dealer, and hooker for their plights while offering no alternative to a repressive socio-economic and psychological system into which they were born. Because make no mistake, where you're raised has EVERYTHING to do with what opportunities you believe you have. It's not the job of the government to fix the ills of society, it's ours, the Church's. But what happens when we're not stepping up? Who's left to carry the weight left behind by our selfishness and introversion? We're His hands and feet, and the government is an extension of the people, even the people of God, and where we fail, someone's got to make up the difference. Someone's got to do OUR job for us.

But what if they didn't? What if we rose to the James 1:27 challenge (for that's what it is) and met the needs of society- not just preaching *at* them but showing love *to* them. What could we change?
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Electionables...

There's been a lot of talk about what people do and don't agree with as it relates to our respective candidates proposed usage of governmental structure. But, let's throw this out there- do we really know what we don't or do agree with or are we regurgitating the respective views of our cable news channels of choice. Beyond the sound bites we can rattle off from memory, or what "we heard" that candidate x or y said, what do we really know? Christians are often woefully inept at being aware of the issues our candidates stand for, choosing instead to stand on either side of the ideological aisle based in large part on what few things in a candidate's platform differ with our narrow minded (often) Christian fundamentalist views. You don't want to ban abortion, believing that morality is not something to legislate but rather to instill from our supposed bastions of moral knowledge- religious institutions. You support the overwhelming support of the 2nd amendment, it obviously means you're a right wing nut job who cares only about capital gains and personal liberties, even if those come at the expense of another. Really, we mostly pantomime what we hear others say because it's easier.

So, I ask simply, what policies, ideals, and positions do you disagree from our candidates. Give specifics and don't waste time with sound bites. And for the sake of this discussion, leave faith out of it.

Ready...set...GO!

Pursue. Original.
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Escape

Acid-washed pages rush over me
beckoning deeper
down the rabbit hole
Calling me louder from their shores
by names I scarcely recognize
taking sword and shield
docking firm upon their pier
I become what I am not
that which destiny foretold
through oracles of old
Delphi born
modern bread
new understanding breaks forth
through lenses sharpened with time
forged in fires fueled by imagination
built on lies told to entertain
created to carry hearts and minds
away
beneath Leagues of sorrow
through Olympianic claims
of would-be world creators
nascent conjourers of dreams
who form our realities
if only for the moments
where eyes glazed
and mouth agape
we find it all suspended

Intarsia

There's a lot running through my mind right now. It is therefore my hope that it all congeals into some sort of concentrated thought process. We'll see.

I was at House Church a few weeks ago when an interesting topic came up. It was the idea that so many of the people my age seem to dabble in so many different things, never necessarily settling on one particular passion. We might be passionate about the arts, while at the same time passionate about ending world hunger, while at the same time desiring to be a successful business person, while at the same time holding aspirations of being a model, musician, singer, artist...you get the idea. For the longest time, I would look at the seemingly schizophrenic nature of my interests, the things that at times seemed to war against each other (or at least be in sharp competition) and think, "I really need to pick one." I just knew that the only way for me to truly be "happy" in life was to focus on something that I was good at, or could get good at and pursue it with all the fire and gusto that I could muster. I knew that it was absolutely necessary for me to choose. I couldn't have the proverbial cake and eat it at the same time- it was up to me to choose. But then I heard something from an associate of mine that has forever changed the way I view my passions, many and varied as they might be. I'm a part of the mosaic generation.

Let's start with some basic definitions. A mosaic is distinctly defined as "a picture or decoration made of small, usually colored pieces of inlaid stone, glass, etc. " according to our wonderful friends at dictionary.com. So let's unpack that for a moment . The picture, whatever it may be, could not exist were it not for the individual, seemingly disjointed elements that are fit (sometimes perfectly and sometimes imperfectly) together. By themselves and standing on their own, each little pebble, piece of broken glass or metal is relatively inconsequential. Sure, some may have some level of intrinsic value based on their luster, their shape, or some other aesthetic property, but by and large, they're worth very little alone. In fact, in many cases, had the pieces not been used for some artistic purpose, they may even have been discarded. But here they sit, ready to be used to create a grand design that no one but the artist can fathom. So, slowly and painstakingly he or she places one small piece ever so gingerly, ever so carefully on the canvas of choice. A red pebble bunches tight against a shard of the sharpest broken glass, a crushed marble shimmering in its iridescence is juxtaposed harshly next to a smooth surfaced piece of iron, while paper thin layers of pearl lay ever so sweetly beside common gravel. Why and for what purpose are these seemingly incongruous elements coming together? What does my love for art have to do with my desire to see equality come to the most impoverished areas of our world? What does my love of "the finer things in life" have to do with how saddened I am when I walk next to a child who's next meal isn't accounted for? What does any of it have to do with anything else? I have no idea.

But here's what I know- I know that there's a piece of art being created. I know that the days of picking and choosing only the things at which we think we can excel wholeheartedly are, if not gone, then relegated to an ever shrinking majority. But for those of us within the minority, for those of us who have looked at the landscape of our life and wondered if there was something wrong with us, wondered if we were scattered or missing it because we just couldn't seem to "settle down" know that we are passionate about all the things we are passionate about, and there's no fault in that. We are passionate about changing the world and loving living in ours. We are passionate about pursuing the desires of our heart and changing the hearts of others. We are passionate about having our life count for more than nothing, more than the pursuit of a fleeting, fantastical notion that this is all there is. We are passionate about much, and we are in love with the idea that what we pursue- all we pursue- is part of some grander glory. We believe that the pains of these experiences we face, the unease we sense at being complacent, the constant internal drive to evolve, be better, change, is all a part of some grander plan. This is all a part of some greater...something that points to the "glory that will be revealed in us." This seeming mess of passion and emotions is actually something much bigger. This is the desireS of my heart and yours joining together side by side in their disjointed way and making something beautiful. This is asphalt beside gold, and diamond beside glass. This is copper atop ruby, noble against ignoble, and glory upon glory because God created it and when he created it, all of it, it was "good."

The Journey Begins Again

So, a few days ago I packed my car with the few belongings that I had with me in Tulsa (the rest of them are in Edom), and set out to Dallas. It's at the same time overwhelmingly exciting and grippingly frightening. I know that it can seem at times cliche to say that it feels like Abram did when God told him to go to a land he would tell him, but that's pretty much how I feel. I left Tulsa this time with nothing particular to head towards besides a promise that there is more to this life than I have lived thus far. I have to desperately hold on to this promise because right now it's what I have. I mean, I know God is fully able to arrive at the point of this need and deliver me, as He has done for countless others, countless times before, but nevertheless I have to remind myself of that sometimes. I left Tulsa because I knew that my emotional and spiritual well being depended on it, and I have to know that God is looking to honor obedience.

Yesterday, I think I found an apartment that I like and am going to submit my application today. I also found a roommate. He's substantially younger than me, but seems pretty cool, so we'll see how it all works out. Beyond all that, it just makes smart financial sense for me to make this decision. So, I'm making my decision based on that. I have no idea how God is going to work it all out over the next several days as I look for jobs and such, but He's faithful so I keep believing that He will. Is it blind faith? No, but I am continually aware of grace beyond myself available and extended to me for reasons I still can't always fathom. God really is faithful, and I need to learn to thank Him in advance for his faithfulness to me. So, pray for me as chapter (dear Lord, I have no idea what chapter number this would be) begins. This should be a good one.

Pursue. Original.