When God lets us watch Frozen

Everybody has days like this from time to time.

It's been amazing to see the parallel between my new life as a father of a toddler and the love the Father has for his children here on earth.

The thought came to me yesterday, as thoughts always do when I haven't the time to write. The last few months have been a blur of happiness, joy, fear, stress, contentment, diapers and love. I went from being a bachelor in a small city in Southern Oregon to being a family man living along the east side of the Seattle metro area.

My mornings are filled with Amelia as my wife (wife!) works, and I get to enjoy the many blessings — and hardships — of watching a two-year-old grow into a human.

Marie often reminds me that Amelia struggles with things because she's still learning to be a human, and while that idea has made sense to me, it bore a little extra weight when I compare it to my learning to be like Christ.

We as fallen humans are stubborn and hard-headed. It takes us a long time to learn to do something correctly, and even longer to break a bad habit.

God is unshakable, unmovable and constant. He's there for us when we fill our diapers at 5 a.m., and he makes sure we get a balanced diet while still enjoying the things we like to eat.

Sometimes when we're having a rough morning, he lets us watch Frozen and hold our precious green balloon.

There are the heartfelt hugs, the sleepy cuddles first thing in the morning and the tired reading of books just before naptime.

But most of all, God knows what we need even when we don't.

We might want to stay up and play in our room at night (and wave to the neighbors through the window), but God knows we'll be miserable tomorrow if we don't get our sleep. And as two-year-olds, it's impossible sometimes to see what is common sense to God.

Amelia might be set in her toddler ways, but eventually she learns that MommyDaddy have her best interests at heart. And the incredible thing is that God is far more steady and reliable with us than we are with her.

Here's to remembering that every time Amelia wants to wear her winter pajamas (I wear my jayas!) in the middle of a hot afternoon, or doesn't want to get out of the lake even though she's blue in the face. As much as I want her to trust me — the flawed, human me — God wants my trust that much more.

To walk, to wake

Rather late this morning, I finally convinced myself to get out of bed and drug myself across the hallway to have a machine make me coffee.

A sandwich and copious doses of caffeine in my system, I returned to my sheets and was about to click through to one of my Netflix addictions and continue to waste away my day.

This has become a pattern, and one that's difficult to break. And a day in bed doesn't exactly mean a day of rest — rather, it usually ends at three or four in the morning when I get bored of Criminal Minds and decide to sleep until the process begins over again the next day.

It makes for a sleepy — literally and figuratively — life.

But today was different. Coffee still in hand, I pulled my office chair from my closet and began organizing my things. Dirty laundry went to wash, clean laundry went to drawers and I went to work cleaning my life up.

I trimmed the beard last night, for the first time in two months. I'm getting a haircut tomorrow, and the old, ripped clothes that have been stowing away in my closets for the last few years are being disposed of. My bed is made, the dishes are put away and the floor of my little room is clear of obstacles.

I found my collection of wool socks, and might have let out a little murmur of pleasure when I put them on for the first time this fall.

I'm hoping that, somewhere deep in my consciousness, I've decided to wake up.

Looking back, I wonder how many opportunities I've missed for fear of upsetting my lazy routine. The chance to be in shape, the chance at making the last few years a little less lonely by stepping out and embracing my community. The chance at a stronger walk based on unrelenting trust.

I'm still hiding behind a screen, but I've moved to Rogue Roasters. It helps to clear my head, and with a few of the cobwebs knocked away, I find myself frustrated at the lack of meaning and progress I sometimes see in life.

This blog is full of quick-fix ideas. I'll give up Facebook for a week, I'll have my phone off on Sundays, I promise to be more active, I'll be working on immediately acting on God's whisperings... there's a little bit of everything.

Three years later, what is different?

Habits are built and broken. Sins are contracted and eradicated. That's all part of the process, but the whole idea is the difference in my heart. I've long wondered when the Jesus-thing will just click and make sense. I've asked for a Damascus moment, but it seems not very many people get those -- and for good reason.

I think God wants me to choose that on my own. I've got to make the conscious choice to DO something with my life. To change, to grow, to love.

To walk, to wake.

Rainbow Joward

The Supreme Court's decision to extend equal marriage rights to the homosexual community this week broke the internet.

It became the fad to add a rainbow filter over your Facebook profile photo, whether or not you'd ever openly advocated for gay rights before. Companies and news organizations trumpeted the ruling and jumped on a massive multicolored, politically-correct landslide.

I'm not here to debate politics. What I am here to do is leave a message for the Christianfolk with whom I (at times begrudgingly) identify.

To those of you who posted updates about how gays and lesbians will burn in hell, to those of you who wildly flailed your crucifixes in desperate hope that you wouldn't be mistaken for having agreed with the movement, for those of you who posted bible verse after bible verse condemning homosexuality -- this is for you.

Just because you don't agree with the movement doesn't mean you should be spreading a movement of hatred and fear.

We are called to love the Lord with all our heart, soul, mind and strength, as I've written about before. But we are also called to love the people around us -- and that's regardless of their age, race, eye color, hairstyle, religion, height, smell, favorite hockey team... and sexual orientation.

Putting a rainbow on my Facebook doesn't mean I'm a-jumpin' on the gay train, it carries a far more valuable meaning. I'm taking a stand to be loving and accepting, regardless of how others who share my faith have been reacting all week long.

Some of my thoughts were sparked by something a friend posted, a message by Ian Pratt on Instagram which captured my feelings in a really good way. Pratt talks about how Jesus met with and loved people from all walks of life, from the pharisees to the tax collectors and prostitutes. Pratt was moved to action, not by his convictions on the issue of gay marriage, but on the reaction from fellow believers.

"My message to the gay community is this," he writes. "You are loved. You have infinite dignity and worth."

And that should be the message. My personal beliefs aside, I love you guys. This isn't one of the, 'Hey, you can do what you want as long as it doesn't affect me,' things. I hope to treat you as I should the rest of my friends, with love and respect for who you are.

Jesus loves you, and that doesn't change.

To those who are 'enraged,' as one commented mentioned, I'd challenge you to discover why. Gay people are nothing to be afraid of. In fact, they are to be loved as neighbors -- much like the Samaritan, who would have been the sworn enemy of the Jews along the road. God doesn't set parameters of who he loves and when he loves, so why should we?

Dominoes and an impolite Jesus

Sometimes change isn't comfortable. God never promised you that you would be.

At the very end of the post last week about grown up decisions, I had origonally written out a paragraph about feeling as though God had set up a number of dominoes and was simply waiting for the right time to knock them all down. I ended up deleting the graph because it didn't quite fit with the rest of the post, but it stuck with me.

The phrase came to mind again this afternoon during a conversation with a fellow churchgoer after today's service -- there are pieces God has been setting in place in readiness for some big change.

The music team met and, for really the first time, discussed bettering what we do on Sundays. The teaching today was a little awkward at first, but raw and powerful and honest. It was transparent, and began to break down longstanding barriers of fear.

I've no idea what the dominoes will look like when they fall, but I think back to a few days ago when I asked God to clear my mind of earthly solutions to problems and instead work wonders that I couldn't imagine. The Lord provided for me that day, and in a way I hadn't really considered.

I find it interesting that there are bricks being laid for a new foundation at my morning-church in the same way that the Lord is laying bricks for a new foundation in my life. Perhaps the biggest lesson I've learned over the last few weeks is that I can relax and allow myself to focus on growing in Christ instead of attempting to force sin from my life.

I've always been reminded of the song that begins, 'Come, just as you are, to worship.' For a long time, that phrase seemed like it had to do with what you looked like Sunday school. It's taken on an entirely different meaning for me.

I can't allow sins and struggles to keep me from letting God speak into my life. If I spend too much time focusing on being better and on erradicating bad habits and bad choices, it becomes really easy to drown out God's teaching.

Think of it this way: don't be so busy rowing that you forget to raise the sails.

It's always stuck in my mind to ask God to fill me so full of himself that there isn't really room for anything else. All the bad things, the habits, the additions, the wandering thoughts -- all those things are gone, not because I forced them to leave and was left empty, but because I swapped them for the things of Christ.

There's no gap, and no waiting period in between the two. God isn't polite enough to ask for a nice, clear space in my heart, and I hope that I become more aggressive in asking God to take my heart by force.

In that same breath, I hope to continue -- or to be more transparent, begin -- to ask God to be so present in my life that I cannot ignore Him and the things he does. It's something I found scribbled on a piece of paper when I cleaned out my trunk a few days ago, and I think it captures a longing I had years ago for a time in which I would grow and prosper.

That time is now.

In which, I make grown-up decisions

I woke up this morning with taxes on my mind, and the thought of exactly how hard the next few months might be. A few hours later, after paying more money than I'd like and pressing send, I collapsed at the foot of the bed, weighed down by the reality of the position I'm in.

I've written a few times in the last several months about an issue with my taxes costing me a fair amount of money, and a fair amount of money that I don't have. I'd done the math and in theory, it seemed like I would just scrape by. Today, I actually felt the pressure and wilted under it.

After some tearful moments of desperation, I asked God to clear my head of all the plans I'd made to stay afloat until next year's tax returns (as in, 2016) arrive. I'd come up with all sorts of ideas, things ranging from donating plasma or finding a roommate to finding a higher-paying job, but for those few minutes, all those things seemed worthless. I didn't want my earthly solutions.

I had a quick breakfast, and stepped into my daily thinking-place for a shower. Then a thought hit me.

I'd always heard about how the apostles celebrated in the hard times and during persecution, and while 1 Peter 12-14 doesn't relate perfectly to the words that popped into my head this morning, I have a better understanding for what it means to rejoice in tribulation.

The greater the challenge, the more I will have to praise God for once he's brought me through it.

Sure, I've painted myself into this corner, and I get that -- like Paul says in Galatians -- we aren't supposed to mess up in life simply so that more of God's grace is poured out. But at the same time, I find myself less filled with dread and more filled with excitement to see what plans and little miracles God has on the path ahead of me.

At the least, these next few months will teach me a great many things. It will teach me about how wasteful I've been, and how much I can afford to NOT have. It will also serve as a reminder that my money doesn't belong to me, and that any and everything I have comes from the Father.

I can't help but wonder if it all goes back to finally being willing and brave enough to ask God to take away the things I didn't need to serve him. It seems as though, and I've mentioned this before, there are a handful of puzzle pieces being amassed in my heart simply waiting for God to piece them together.

Here, there is more immediate evidence of the redemptive process. In the past, this post would have been filled with fear -- just as my terrified prayers were this morning. I've had plenty of blog posts similar to those few moments, but I find it incredible that I've grown enough to see things in a different light and see an opportunity for God to be glorified.

Love, you're doing it wrong

Music has always had a particular way of allowing God to speak to me, and a few weeks ago, David Crowder's Oh, How He Loves Us popped into my head -- no doubt a quiet prompting.

I settled on the phrase in the chorus in which the song focuses on the awe of God loving us. In conjunction with God being God, and everything I know about God, that didn't make any sense. If God is just and perfect, there's no reason for God to love us as he does.

John 3:16 says that God loved the world so much that He sacrificed his son so we could be with him. In that frame of mind, the love of God is great -- it's huge and immeasurable, by our human standards -- but God's love is still quantifiable.

In other words, it can be earned and it can be lost.

That's a scary thought. If God's love can be measured, it can be used up. And with all the sin in the world, it would make sense that God's love would eventually run dry.

There's a flaw in that thinking, though. John 3:16 doesn't talk about WHY God loves us, it simply states that He does. God's love is unconditional, and I've grown up thinking that God's love is unconditional because there's a whole bunch of it.

That's now how unconditional works, though. Unconditional means that love is literally outside of conditions.

God doesn't love us because of what we do, how we act or who we are. God loves us BECAUSE we are. 

Consider the relationship between a parent and a child. No matter what happens between them, the son will always be the child of the father. If the father's love is based on the fact that the son is HIS son, then it will never change. It will never dissipate, and it will never grow or diminish based on how the son acts.

That light makes God's love far more comforting, I think. There's nothing that I could do to change the fact that God loves me, because he doesn't love me for the things I bring or don't bring to the relationship. He doesn't love me because of my talents or my looks, and certainly not because of my faithfulness.

God loves me because he created me and because God is love, and I will always be his creation -- regardless of the things I do in this life. God's love is unrelenting, it's a wall or a wave. It's unbroken and unfailing and constant.

What an example, and what a fresh way of thinking! If we are made in his image and we are called to reflect him, then we are called to the same love -- love that it outside condition. That's why it doesn't matter how we're treated, and it doesn't matter whether or not we get anything back from the relationship.

I need to learn to love like that.

A look back at two years of progress

It's typical of me that I didn't realize it was Thursday until I'd finished writing.

When I started writing on this blog almost exactly two years ago, the original idea was to give myself a way to look back at the past and see God working in my life.

The first few posts were pretentious, at best. I think part of it might have been that I hadn't gotten into the routine of cutting needless information out of my writing, but it seems the very wording of the early topics is fluffy with the intent to deflect attention away from myself and my own issues.

They're filled with flowery language you might expect in some fancy bible commentary, and from my perspective, I did an awfully good job of pretending I was... something different. Take this next paragraph, for example, from the opening monologue:

"Now, that's not to say that we are not redeemed by Christ and signed by the blood of Jesus into the book of life, but though we are already saved, we are still surrounded by the sin we choose to participate in. The redemptive process, salvation, is nothing more or less than Christ's every day good work to make us more and more like the Father."

Uhm, what? Sure, I believe those words, but I feel like they were written by somebody else -- or at least with the intent to sound like somebody else. The next post, written about making plans without trusting God, is a little better, but there's still a strong sense of distance between myself and the reader. I offer two examples and analyze them as though I've come through hellfire and brimstone with some sort of higher knowledge, regardless of the fact that I was likely more mired in issues of trust than anyone who dared read my commentary.

It wasn't until a few weeks later that the current framework for the blog began to take place, beginning with a post about my thoughts, my fears and my concerns after finding out that I'd lost a job that was supposed to help pay for my newly leased apartment. Here, though it's brief and slightly isolated, I'm finally honest with myself. I finally capture something real: the fear surrounding where I would live and what I would eat.

That kind of fear has hit me several times over the last two years, including my first few weeks at my current job. I had to borrow money from a friend to pay for gas, and was living on two top ramen packets per day until my second paycheck arrived.

The fear hit once again when I was terrified that I'd managed to somehow strand myself in Finland without enough money to get home, and recently, fear arrived at my doorstep upon discovering that I was several thousand dollars in debt to the government after some mistakes on my taxes.

The Lord, faithful and true, took care of me and provided just enough to make it through having lost the job back in March of 2013. I got an unexpected care package of food from a family member that August to help me through those tough financial times, and God managed to barter down the price of a re-booking to get home from Finland so that I didn't have to borrow any money.

So as I struggle to wrap my mind around the next challenge, even after God blessed me a few weeks ago, I've never been more glad to have started this project and stuck with it, though spotty at times. If there's anything that I've learned through reading a few of the early posts, it's how God has developed a deeper honesty through my writing than I had before.

I'm better at threshing the wants from the needs, and I'm becoming a little bolder when asking for things. It's a process, and a slow one at that, but I feel as though God is setting pieces in place for a big move all at once.

Most of all, I see God's hand in all of this. It's an important reminder that God has taken care of me in the past -- and as God doesn't change, he will continue to care for my needs in the future.

Blessings and a financial crisis

I don't have much time, so I'll just leave this little post-it note:

About a month ago, I discovered some tax issues that will end up putting pressure on me financially. I reached out to a friend, who had one response: "Pray."

A month later, the Lord has given me plenty of reminders that He can, does and will continue to provide for my needs -- both financial and otherwise.

First came a freelance opportunity with the NWAC (you can read the results of my weekend), during which I got an email from the sports editor of the Eugene Register Guard asking about freelancing for the upcoming high school tournaments. I mentioned that I'd be back from the NWAC tournament in a few days, and I'd love to help out.

Then God opened another door: The timing worked out that I got to freelance a game at the NWAC tournament, and two more high school games when I returned. With the freelance money and an expense check from February around the corner, I was pretty blown away at the Lord's response.

Now my insurance is going down.

I think it's an important reminder that when we ask, the Lord loves us and cares for us in ways we can't possibly predict. I've noticed over the last few months there have been several things I've wanted and not received, but have only realized after the fact that I wanted but never asked.

Maybe it's a pride thing -- I feel like I should have to bother God about my personal wants and wishes, and would rather chase after them on my own. Maybe it's the opposite, that I don't feel qualified or worthy of asking for things.

Just remember this, John, the next time a door seemingly opens: You are blessed, you are blessed, you are blessed. There's no harm in talking about it with the One who loves you the most.

Deliberate decisions and responsibility

Pardon me if this is a bit of a ramble, but I need to get my thoughts out where I can go over them later. Not having a laptop has seriously limited my abilities since July, but a new machine has re-opened the door for late-night trips to whatever coffee shop will have me.

There's no sense in leaving life up to chance.

Tonight's topic is semantics, more or less. Over the last few months, I've noticed myself referring to my past as "full of mistakes." And that's true, in part. I have made plenty of mistakes. I've gone into plenty of things with good intentions, only to have them come off the rails.

My problem with such thinking is that it takes blame for wrongdoing from my shoulders and puts it on chance. I tried to do the right thing, but simply got caught up.

But I think that's wrong. And I think that's poisonous.

Sure, I've made mistakes. But more often than not, they're not "mistakes." They're decisions. Bad decisions. Deliberately choosing the sinful option isn't a mistake, it's a conscious direction.

It's really interesting to watch kids disobey their parents and feign innocence. I remember doing it in elementary school, and pretending to have not understood the playground rules. If I claimed I was ignorant of the rule, I could get out of the punishment, right?

While that might have worked as a fourth grader in terms of actual consequences, but I'd bet money the playground attendant knew exactly what was going on. I was a handful not worth their time to deal with.

It's easy to scoff at the 10-year-old me now that I'm older, but it's also a little frustrating to realize I haven't broken the habit with age.

The "mistake" vs. decision confusion is the same years later  -- claiming you were misinformed or misguided, instead of admitting to having chosen to do the wrong thing with the full knowledge of what you were doing.

I can't help but wonder if my lack of responsibility for my actions has led to my inability to deal with and let go of things. That's been an issue of mine for as long as I can remember, dating back to that girl in high school or someone -- and I actually thought of this today -- telling me during my senior year that my shirt was too small.

Those things still rest on my mind from time to time. I'm not saying everything negative in my entire life is because of decisions I've made, but learning to take responsibility for the things I have done might allow me to figure out how to let go of hurtful things in my past.

Everybody makes mistakes. We're not perfect beings, and that seems to simply be part of life. BUT that doesn't absolve us -- absolve me -- of responsibility for the choices I make.

Maybe I just need to slow down a little bit. Maybe I just need to listen a little bit more. Maybe I just need to heed the things I hear when I listen. Maybe God has been laying the groundwork for a new way of thinking over the last few weeks with this continued theme.

Whatever happens going forward, I'm glad to be back on the blogging wagon.

We the black sheep | The reasons why I've begun to resent the church

Black sheep stick out because of their wool, but they're the same as everyone else on the inside.

I've noticed an interesting thought in my head recently, and one which continues to pop up more and more frequently. Though I've wanted to write about it for some time now, I've always hesitated because of how it might come off.

The reason? I've begun to resent the church for the way it treats black sheep.

Looking back at my childhood and relatively isolated upbringing, there are so many positives from how I was raised that have helped to mold me into the believer I am today. I understand the value of small-church community, and I've been helped along by the people from the body I've spent most of my life participating in.

But having made my fair share of mistakes and drifted more often than I'd like to admit, I can't help but look back at my old viewpoint on sin and wish I had learned to approach righteousness differently.

Example: When I was relatively young, I got mad at my older sister and I felt so badly about being angry I apologized through tears. I might have been seven or eight, and things like being angry, telling fibs or staying up late to read after my parents had put me to bed was the worst offenses I'd ever committed. I was destroyed at the prospect of having done something so wrong.

An earlier draft of this post skipped this next thought and moved on to slamming people for not reaching out to those who didn't have clean wool like they did. But after a fair amount of thought, I've realized that a large reason I reacted the way I did when I made mistakes or sinned as a youngster was out of a fear that I would be caught. Embarrassment plays a major role, and I would rather waste away than be vulnerable and admit my wrongdoings.

The next paragraph of the old post talked about how I sometimes missed the old standard, and how I'd gained perspective as I'd grown up. What I've come to understand, though, is that my fear of being discovered has led to my spiritual isolation from fellow believers. Instead, I learned to accept and befriend people as broken and twisted as myself, and along the way I think I've somehow become desensitized to the horror of sin.

I understand that there is a trade off; a compromise, I suppose. I'm not so horrified by the front they face to the world that I can't love people IN the world, but I've flown close enough to the sun to get burned, and I have scars that only Jesus himself can make new. He takes me in his arms daily for that purpose. I am well cared for.

Now to the meat of my resentment: Why was I — am I — afraid to be transparent with my own church? Is it because I grew up thinking I needed to look the right way and do the right things in order to be accepted? Is it pride? Probably. I've written about that particular issue before. But I think there's a larger component based on what I see around me. And as a disclaimer, this isn't directed at the church I attend. It's directed at THE Church as a whole.

I've seen the silent look of pity; the disapproving look Jesus describes in Luke 18. He tells of a pharisee who went to pray at the temple alongside a tax collector. The pharisee prays and thanks the Lord that he is not like the tax collector, that he prays and fasts as he should, and he's not caught up in sin — he's not "dirty."

If I carried all my sins up in front of MY church, would they look at ME that way? Why does a man who is openly gay, someone battling drugs or a woman who is pregnant out of wedlock get treated as repugnant in this church of Christ? Does the parable of the good Samaritan mean nothing? And what of Jesus' life example: he chose to spend his time with tax collectors, was heralded by shepherds and showed love and acceptance to whores.

So much for the current standard, right? While you bitch and moan about having a problem with swearing -- oops, did I say that? -- I'll sit and silently decide not to bring up the hit I'd taken in the parking lot earlier, or the person I'd slept with the previous night.

I've made mistakes. I've had some really dark stretches in my life, and I've never brought that to the church asking for help. Why would I? I know what to expect: the look and "Oh... wow. Well, I'll be praying for you, man."

Here's another excerpt from the first edition that I'll include because I feel like it captures the resentment, anger and fear I feel from people who have chosen to stay away from the church rather than face judgement from fellow believers: "I can hear the words coming out of someones mouth, and they make my blood boil. This world isn't all puppies and rainbows, my friend, and if you can't handle anything juicer than being late to book club, I've obviously chosen the wrong place to be transparent."

It makes non believers afraid to walk in the door. They know what awaits them. That young pregnant girl already sees it daily at the coffee shop. It makes wayward believers afraid to return and ask for support. They've seen it too, on the faces of their former friends or relatives before they fell away.

And lastly -- and this is the worst poison -- it keeps believers who struggle with unsavory sins from being real, honest and open with their fellow believers. I count myself in this group, and I've begun to resent the "oh poor me, I lied once this week" crowd.

If that's the worst you've done, praise Jesus. You're further along the path to sanctification than I am, but I'm willing to bet there's something a little darker under the surface. If not, you have something invaluable.

We the black sheep -- weather we're open about our struggles or not -- don't need your pity. We don't need your self-righteous "come to Jesus" speech, and we definitely don't need your judgement. We don't even need your religion.

We need your love. And love knows no boundaries. It is patient and kind and accepting. It doesn't judge, and it doesn't compare. It leaves the fixing to the Lord and trusts in His timeline to do so.

There's nothing wrong with long hair. There's nothing wrong with tattoos. Jesus' example of the pharisee and the tax collector actually ends with the tax collector beating his chest, humbling himself and walking away justified before God. There's nothing that should keep you from showering love and support on anyone who walks through those doors -- harlot or pastor. The sacrifice of the Cross applies to them equally.

Pride: Strong wall and poisoned well

The poster boy for pride doesn't represent my pride well.

I've always thought that pride was like what we see in Disney movies: a boastful character with a pumped-up chest, usually wearing bright red and demanding attention from everyone around him. Picture Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. They're full of themselves, they're the best at everything and  tend to be woefully unbearable.

But I've begun to see pride differently. Pride might be what makes you turn down food stamps, or keep quiet about depression. It is holds silent the cries of people who are too afraid to look weak and instead bury themselves in all the good-looking things they can muster.

Basically, pride is a refusal to admit to my shortcomings and become vulnerable.

That's a little eye opening, isn't it? Pride is a crippling, undermining disease. It keeps me isolated in more ways than one, filling my heart with fear of my wrongdoings being unearthed. The result isn't safety or protection. All that happens is that, over time, the seeds of doubt, loneliness, depression and darkness take hold and grow into strongholds. The longer they grow, the more embarrassing they become and so we build our prideful little walls even higher.

"Look at my mighty fortress," I might tell my friends. "Look how tough the gate is, and how sturdy the foundation!"

All the while, there's a death spreading through the well water, poisoning the occupants. And if I'm so terrified of coming out of my shell, I'll waste away and not improve.

Why the siege? Fear of judgement, maybe. It's easier to tell my problems to a stranger than to a friend -- there's no accountability, and no reason for them to look at me any differently. There's zero vulnerability in a meeting like that, and the sole benefit is to simply get the words off my chest and go about my business.

But the poison is still in the well.

And I think that's why Christ told us to seek the fellowship of other believers. The disciples were in a group of 12, not each one on his own. The missionaries in the early church often went in pairs, not alone. The early church worshiped together, ate together, prayed together and died together.

It's like I wrote about a few weeks — months? — ago: the lone sheep will get picked off by the wolf. That post was talking about clinging to God, but I think the wisdom goes just as far when referring to other believers. I can't sit on an island and hope to see any change.

Here's where pride rears its head once again: I'll pray and ask God for things reluctantly, feeling guilty because I'm somehow not worthy or not good enough to ask — yet. Give me some time, God, and I'll have worked hard and cleaned myself up. Then you can take over.

Except it doesn't work that way. I won't ever get to the point where I'm good enough, and while that doesn't warrant throwing up my hands in defeat, it does mean I should be transparent with God from the beginning.

What is the point of pride, anyway? A prideful person sets themselves apart from others. The longer you stay that way, the more people begin to believe that you're alright on your own, even when you're not. The longer I stay this way, the more I begin to believe I can handle my problems, even when I can't.

I was going to type out a little prayer for me to remember and attempt to live by, and it was going to begin with something along the lines of asking God to cut down my pride and humble me. And even though it's with growth and healing in mind, that's terrifying — and rather so. Being humbled and made vulnerable to others is a scary thought for me, which again gives credence to the idea of pride being a response to fear.

For me, then, this is more appropriate:

Lord make me brave enough to become vulnerable, and help me to see my growth and rebuilding in spite of the fear vulnerability brings. Help me to be humble enough to ask for help when I need it, and to seek fellowship in order to stay that way.

Re-working my investment portfolio

A few months ago, I lightly blogged about how we humans are built to seek affirmation. In my post, I admitted to chasing validation, and blew it off as simply admitting to being normal.

But after some time to think, I'm not sure I agree.

See, when I wrote before that we should seek the approval of Christ before we go after the acceptance of our peers, I forgot how difficult it is to find balance between the two. I wrote about motivations, and how I'm basically geared to chase after happiness and friends and other things which will fade once this life is over.

Don't those two things strongly contradict one another? I look through my Facebook feed and see how I constantly drag out my greatest accomplishments for applause, and yet rarely speak of my walk with Christ and the things HE takes pride in.

I think that, more than anything else, shows where my attention is focused.

I'm not one to plaster my social networking accounts with verses, pictures of crosses and happy little Christian-ese memes, and I'm not about to make that jump. And I'm not going to shut it down and publicly "fast" from Facebook so everyone knows what I'm up to.

At the same time, I'm not about to cast away all the attention I give to the people around me. Conversations I've had with a few close persons have told me that people — loving people, caring for people, being interested in people, read my last post on Tea and Crumpets, etc. — is a calling of mine. Perhaps that is why I struggle with finding a middle ground, simply because God has given me a heart to connect and I haven't yet learned how to control it.

With all of those disclaimers out of the way, my thoughts are thus:

The reason I've gotten to where I am in my career is because I take pride in what I do. I spend my spare time at the office writing or working on the next section (when I'm not watching Netflix, shhhh) and because of the investment, I've seen a significant return.

I need to take pride in my walk with Christ. If I didn't spend any time singing, I wouldn't improve my sight reading or ear training. And because I don't spend time working on my relationship with the Lord, it suffers.

I haven't worked out exactly how to go about that, but I'll write about it in the near future. There are plenty of things I need to work out with my keyboard: what to do with church-time, wondering what mission God has for me, how to act out said mission, my contempt for Christians and what "pride" means to me.

For now, I'll stop worrying about chasing worldly acceptance and look after other needed areas.

Except coffee. I can still chase that.

Lessons: Tea and crumpets

If you know this book, serious points to you. Also, Ferdinand.

It's amazing how God works behind the scenes, setting up little miracles and revealing them to us after they've played out.

A few minutes ago, I went back and read yesterday's heartfelt post crying out about restlessness, dissatisfaction, doubt and guilt. It makes me glad I started this blog, as now I can look at where my mind was yesterday afternoon and begin to work through the things that happened in the aftermath with a solid starting point.

Shortly after the little story was posted, I received a message from an old friend, simply reaching out to see how I was doing. It was a few steps further from the usual response, which is the liking of a status on Facebook, or adding a sad face in the comments to somehow convey sympathy in a shallow, non-time consuming way.

Instead of exchanging a few words back and fourth, he invited me to call him, and I did. We spoke for the better part of a quarter hour, discussing work, music, people, etc., and it was healing. I went home a little while later feeling refreshed and appreciated, with the thought 'my, how God works in mysterious ways,' passing through my head before leaving the office.

This evening, as I went through the usual lonely routine of Netflix and trying not to head down the street for nasty-for-my-body fast food, the episode of the TV show fell upon the topic of Valentines day. There I went, rabbiting away to some deep, dark and dreary place, thinking over all of my choices — good ones and bad ones alike — and wondering which of them were mistakes.

That's just when I received a message from my mother, as messages containing her wisdom often do when I'm wrestling with something.

A few days ago, she told me about staying close to the shepherd, as wolves find it easier to pick off isolated lambs. It dawned on me that, regardless of my isolation from friends and family, I'm never isolated from God's presence — more on that later.

Tonight's message brought me back to my days in grade school, where I had a few brief brushes with theater as a youngster. If my memory serves me correctly (this was something like 13 years ago), our class was split into groups, with each group set to create a skit about safety of some kind. I was paired with two friends, one of my few consistent companions, and a young boy with Down's Syndrome.

Stevie, as he was affectionately known by the class, probably wasn't the top pick for a theatrical performance. I'll skip over the specifics, but my friend and I ended up giving Stevie a simple speaking part that made him the star of our little drama, and my mom recalls Stevie's mother "bursting with joy over hearing him talk." It was a mark of my personality, she said, that I took the time to make him a part of it all, simply because people matter to me.

"My opinion is that God is into people too," she said. "Talk to Him all the time — I have been having coffee with Him often, and when I get up to do some thing else it seems He doesn't want me to go. Let Him talk too by reading his Words."

Wait, physically spend time with God? Should I pull up an extra chair in my little kitchen and make an extra cup of tea? Maybe God doesn't like tea... then the hammer, and the thing that tied it all together:

I remember my mom taking out the trash when I was young. The sound of the wheels dragging along the driveway still sticks with me as a piece of home, but it turns out that there was more to the routine than I had known about. It was a chance, a five-minutes' peace, to be alone with God.

"He would tell me He had been waiting for me to come out so we could be alone," she remembered.
"You are probably thinking I'm crazy, go ahead. God really does follow us around wanting to be with us especially when we are lonely."

So, all those times where I wallow in my sorrows, God's been simply waiting for me to realize that he's there? Following me with the hope that I'll turn around and jump into his arms and leave my foolish ignorance behind?

The last few months, in which I've allowed myself to spiral at times, are beginning to come together.

Maybe, I was brought out to Scappoose so I could learn and grow in the Lord without any distractions. It's something my mom — surprise, surprise — hit home in the latest message. Right now, I have the luxury of time without immediate responsibilities. No significant other, no wife, no kids — just a cat.

"Your relationship with Him is the foundation for the rest of your life, in which you may not be alone and you will need to work at being alone with God," she told me.

And right now, the only person I need to fight for alone time is myself.

Deuteronomy 20:4: To Claim Victory

I serenade my cat rather often.

I've written before about how many of my best thoughts tend to hit me in the shower. It's a strange phenomenon — something about how our mind works when our brains shut off — but that's not the point.

A few days ago, a phrase uttered by my sister Anna (you can see her lovely blog here) struck me as I scrubbed my nose with the little washcloth I keep draped over the cold-water handle.

"I claim victory over that," she'd say, during any discussion about sin and habits.

It goes back to my earlier topic comparing sin and our sinful nature to addiction, something I do intend to finish. Anna and I were talking about how alcoholics often never refer to themselves as being a former alcoholic or having beaten their alcohol addiction. They usually say they are a recovering alcoholic — clean and sober for, say, six years.

Awesome. Congrats. That's a major accomplishment, in my eyes.

But in the discussion between Anna and I, she challenged my way of thinking. Why recovering? What makes it so they haven't beaten the addiction — and in terms of Christ and sin: claim victory over that and be done with it.

There's that phrase again. I've heard it before, usually during a Gospel-talk in which the preacher says Christ claimed victory over sin, or something along those lines.

So what does that mean? Christ claimed a lot of things. He claimed to be the Son of God. He could heal un-cure-able sicknesses. He could bring people back from the dead, and feed 5,000 people at once. I can't do those things, not in and of myself. If I can't get through the day without tripping, I certainly can't walk on water or calm a storm with my voice.

But God can.

And therein lies my thought as I tried not to loudly serenade myself and my cat whilst in the shower — by claiming victory over sin, we're telling the evil one that God has won, we believe God has won, and we know God will carry out victory over sin, death and all the evil desires the world tries to stick on us.

I think of the movie Return of the King, and the scene in which Viggo Mortensen leads his outnumbered army headlong into a multitude of evil orcs. It's folly, really. And on his own, it means certain death.

That's the idea behind claiming victory over a sin, with one huge and rather essential exception: we have God as backup, and we have God's assurance that the fight is fought, and the battle won.

What 'claiming victory' means, then, is that we're saying to the evil one: "You have no hold on me, Satan. The Lord has already lifted your shackles from me, and I have undying faith in him to continue to fight until you are defeated — the battle has already been fought, and you've already come out the loser."

It's a powerful statement, isn't it? Without God in that picture, we'd look ridiculous, but that's the point. Throwing ourselves into the battle with the knowledge that God has already won, and will continue to reveal his victory to us as we grow in him makes fighting an awful lot easier to do.

"For the Lord your God is he who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies, to give you the victory."

— Deuteronomy 20:4

Wages of Sin

It's a verse that I've heard over and over since I was young,  that the "wages of sin is death." The emphasis is usually on the BUT the gift of God bit, rather than the true reality of what sin does to us. Yes, the power and love of Christ washes us clean. I believe that.

But at the same time, I hold that sin affects us in underhanded ways, things we might not realize at the time we're doing it, but stuff that changes our outlook, our habits, our tendencies and our ability to appropriately cope with trouble down the road.

This is something that God has been teaching me over the past few months. The wages of sin have as much to do with the here and now as they do with what happens after death. Sin is like a parasite. Once it's in your body, it digs deeper and continues to grow. It becomes more difficult to function the way you were made to function, and your body can actually begin to work against itself. Sin is that way.

For someone battling lies, they lose sight of what truth really feels like after years of being mired in deception. Not only do they lose the trust of the people around them, they also lose the appreciation for honesty and transparency.

For someone who is battling lust, it might seem as though watching porn is harmless. But down the road as they attempt to be intimate with their wife (or husband, it goes both ways), they'll struggle because they were used to experiencing intimacy with a screen.

Just like when the Jews wandered the wilderness, there are reasons for the laws set down by God: to protect us. If I take something made by God and misuse it, it's ten times harder to relearn to act in a way pleasing and worshipful to the Lord.

This is something that's been on my mind for some time now as God has been showing me the damage I've done to myself. It's given me a deeper appreciation for the guidelines given to us from a loving Father. Loving. The laws have always seemed rigid to me until recently. I hope to maintain this new perspective.

A Clean Heart

It wasn't Eagle Fern, but it felt a bit like it.

Being restless is something I've struggled with for many years. It seems to fly in the face of my parallel laziness, and in spite of possessing an inability to pull myself off the couch or out of the office, it can be overpowering, this feeling of wanderlust an a desire to simply... go.

I feel it when I look at the sunset's path across the ocean waves, and it creeps up on me when I step into the woods. And so, though I recognize the very real risk I might leave and never come back, I wander into the wilderness from time to time, simply to give my mind a place to explore.

That's the position I found myself in earlier this evening: sitting behind a desk and hiding from the outdoors, hoping to bury my thoughts behind Netflix, Tumblr and high-fructose corn syrup. Eventually I'd had enough, and headed to the hills, looking for solace.

I aimed for a little park about 15 miles outside of my town, one of the few where I hoped I could find a trail to tread and some place new to lose myself in. About halfway there, I settled on a wide spot in the side of the road that had a narrow pathway down to the riverbank.

It was quiet down there, other than the whine of mosquitoes, the babble of water over mossy river stones and the occasional hum of a car speeding past overhead. I took off my shoes and stepped, stone by stone, across the creek in search of a seat on which I could spend some time in thought.

It's strange, how I run out of town simply for a chance to think of the problems I've left behind. This time was no different - I settled on the topic of my last blog post. Why do I so strongly seek the approval of others while putting God on the back burner? Is that something I can change? On my own?

I wrestled with that. It's been a theme of the last few years: "Lord, give me a stronger desire to follow you. Lord, take away the desire for sinful things. Lord, take my priorities and align them with yours."

Underlying all these thoughts is another commonality: I'm not always sure if my heart is behind the things I ask for, and I'll add the request to take the thoughts and plant seeds in my heart. I think I know what is best, and I know that being closer to the Lord is the best thing for me regardless of the sin-haze I see life through.

I just don't know how to get from wanting to want it, to wanting it, to having it.

As I thought while sitting on that boulder in the middle of the stream earlier this evening, I think I finally understand where David was when he wrote asking God to create a clean heart, and renew a right spirit in him.

Maybe I can't change my heart. I know I can't cleanse it, certainly. For the next few days and weeks, though, I'll include David's prayer in my thoughts.

I like the New Living Translation the best here for Psalm 51:10 -

"Create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a loyal spirit in me."

Seeking Affirmation

If you don't get the connection, youtube "validation" and you'll understand.

I got the chance to visit Bridgetown church last weekend, something I'd been planning to do for quite some time, and it gave me something juicy to meditate on this week.

The teacher -- and I can't for the life of me remember his name, it just wasn't John Mark -- talked about Peter's showdown in the garden when Jesus was arrested. He cut off a servant's ear in a display of emotion, aggression and fear, leading Jesus to heal the ear and berate Peter for acting with violence.

The talk turned to a dissection of Peter's motivations: earlier in the evening, he had been told he would deny Christ three times and he had been told that Judas would betray Jesus to the religious leaders. He was a mixture of feelings at the time. Angry at Judas for his betrayal, afraid that Jesus was being arrested and would be leaving them for a time, hurt that Jesus had predicted his denial and embarrassed that Jesus knew his true heart.

All of those things boil over when he draws his sword, and I think - and these are also the words of Sunday's teacher - he was motivated out of a want to prove his loyalty. It was slightly futile, as his actions went against Jesus' peaceful message, but it does serve as a thought provoking story.

How am I motivated? Many of my habits and motivations are pretty basic. I just want to be happy, and I'm afraid of not being happy and so I do things and act a certain way to be sure that happens.

For the moment, I'll focus on one: the want to be accepted. Broken down, it falls into the happiness category. It goes along with being respected and admired and looked up to - I just want to be liked, doesn't everybody?

Yes. I'd contend yes (except Steve), but the way we go about it varies, with varied results. I've noticed over the past few months that I tend to chase affirmation. Regardless of the sarcastic response they usually get from me, I like awards. I like complements, I like people reaching out to me and wanting to be friends. All those things are validating, they make you relevant and help you to know you're doing something right.

Those wants and desires seem to be built in to us humans (again, except Steve). Even the youngest kids -- my growing bunch of nieces and nephews for example -- like to show their parents the things they're proud of. Whether it's a simply crafted drawing (LOOK! He drew a basketball with LINES, says mommy) or a pile of sticks, the appetite to have our actions affirmed as impressive or desirable drives us at all stages of life. In kindergarten it's the finger painting on the refrigerator. In middle school it might be wearing a cool new back back to class, and in high school its flirting with the cute girl in math class.

On the surface, those things aren't harmful, but when we let our lives begin to form around the affirmation from our fellow humans, that's when the train comes off the tracks. The reason, I think, we were born with such a desire is that we are supposed to crave the affirmation of our Creator. What validation is stronger? What complement is higher? None.

It all goes back to the camp song we used to sing as kids that was taken from Matthew 25:21:

"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!'"

Or as we sang it, "My good and faithful oooonneeeeee, weeeelll DONE MAHN."

In which, I finally break the ice

I actively asked God for both of these things.

This won't be long, just a note to help me remember a victory I had earlier  this afternoon.

As I've mentioned before, I tend to do my best thinking in the shower. Today, I was detoxing from a grueling basketball game with a friend, and somewhere in the midst of washing my hair, I realized exactly how often I ask for prayer... and forget to pray myself.

It came up because I was deep in thought over a few potential meetings I have next week - namely Steve Brandon the Sports Editor of the Tribune, and Chad Doing, a popular sports talk radio host in Portland. It's a topic I'll discuss further - something that came from my JesusBux experience - but I'd reached out to both individuals with the intent of sitting down and gleaning a wealth of knowledge and advice.

In my excitement in planning the pair of ordeals, I had entirely forgotten to ask God's blessing. Usually, I would have allowed myself to tailspin and end up staying silent, but this was different. That ice broke, finally.

It's not a habit, yet, but I plan on making it one. An easy concept: SPEAK. Things will work themselves out from there. Silence doesn't to anyone any good.

In other news: I'm going to view a perfect little apartment on Sunday in Scappoose. I'll begin praying for  that... nnnnnnow.

Peace.

JesusBux: Time is more than Money

Captioned "Jesus starts his workday."

It's funny how divine appointments tend to sneak up on us. 

Last night, I made the choice on a whim to go down to Starbucks and "work" for a while, as the internet at my apartment is on the fritz. And by "work" I mean look at some box scores and then sit on Facebook until the store closes - a simple time waster, just something to do before settling in. While my intent was lazy, God had other plans, and I wonder if my whim was not a whim but a whisper, just loud enough to be audible.

I met a man, also named John, that approached me and asked me about my plans for the next few years. I told him I wanted to move to a larger paper eventually, maybe a bi-weekly or a daily. You know, logical steps. No sense in getting ahead of myself.

To my surprise, he responded by asking me why I wasn't gaming for Sports Illustrated, and while at first I thought he was being a little sarcastic, eventually I realized he put stock in what he said. Literally. The man, who is a local business owner and "teacher" of millionaires, spent the next hour or so going over some basics of how to change your mindset from one of complacency how and reach for success.

His original thought was aimed at the business and professional side of things, but he mentioned Jesus, the bible and proverbs enough times during our conversation to get me thinking: How can I apply these things to my walk and my career at the same time?

Here are a few thoughts:

One of his strongest points was the value of time. Rich business owners, he said, would be better served to fly across the country in their corporate jet than fly commercial or drive, even though it might be far cheaper. The reason is that they know the value of their time. It's worth much more than the small amount of money people are willing to trade it for.

In my job, that means I need to be more intentional about how I use my time. Sure, I get paid a certain amount per hour, but the lessons I learn and the progress I make in my career are worth more than the measly salary I make, even though I may not reap the benefits right now. Making the most of each opportunity, going further on that story, taking the time to get better at interpreting stats or communicating a coaches thoughts - all those things are benefits on top of the money the newspaper pays me, and are things I have to choose to pursue. 

That same concept applies to my relationship with Christ. I tend to spend quite a bit of my free time in a mindless zone. The radio is on when I drive and when I sleep, and once I get home from work, I sit on the couch and watch netflix or head down to my favorite cafe to waste time online. All that time could and should be better spent, especially the 10 hours a week behind the wheel of my car. Those mindless things are the defaults I drift toward, and it's rare that I choose something different and actually engage of my own accord.

Just as I can spend my work hours focusing on making myself a better journalist instead of simply getting the work done, I can also make good use of the times where my mind would otherwise be floating useless, namely in the car and just before bed. I'll make an effort to pray for the first 15 minutes of my daily drive, and put away the phone in the minutes before I sleep - all part of an effort to be intentional with my time, whether toward my career or toward my Christ.

This is likely the first of several posts pertaining to my conversation with this man, a completely unexpected, but potentially groundbreaking hour. It's gotten me more excited for my future, and given me a better vision for how to accomplish the lofty goals I've set on the back burner for so long. More to come.

The Big and Little

The shower is most often the place I do my best thinking. I swear, if I lived in that thing I'd be famous for my steely intellect and wisely worded memes, but there's a wrench in the setup - I do my writing at night.

So when I had a rather lovely discussion this morning with myself over the topic of asking for things (a re-hashing of my last post), I was worried I might forget everything I'd drummed up whilst under the water. Thankfully, the main point stuck with me.

Over the last few weeks, I've expressed some frustration about getting things. First, it was frustration surrounding my driving situation - my car died, and I needed a way to commute to work. Then it died again, and I wondered how I would be cared for, and lastly I summed up some thoughts around the idea that I am made worthy of God's presence and ear because of Christ's sacrifice.

This morning, though, I realized all that might have been avoided. The thought came up because of a different issue - one having to do with relationships - but it's applicable across the board: if you have a need, ASK.

Simple right? Yep. Well, in theory, but I don't for some reason. Part of it, as I've discussed previously, has to do with the lie that I'm not good enough to find the Lord's favor, but there's got to be something else.

"Naw, I don't NEED that," I tell myself. "I won't bother God with that, there are bigger things to deal with."

And while I see some validity to that (please help me decide which tooth to brush first), the idea of prayer without ceasing argues to the contrary, doesn't it? We're supposed to cast our cares and worries on him, and nowhere in that passage does it say cast the IMPORTANT cares on the Lord, and leave the little things to yourself.

I now have one of these, her name is Ava.

The problem seems to be that I don't believe Jesus when he says how watches over us. He tells us that he notices when the sparrow falls from the nest - how much more does he care for us? Toothpaste is fairly inconsequential, but many of the little things God actively wants to hear about. Even if it's not an actual request, having the conversation (communication is part of a basic friendship) is essential.
Lord, my day hasn't gone well so far. I need help to get through traffic today. Boy, that sunshine is beautiful, thank you for creating that. Make me a blessing today, in the little ways.

All those things seem fairly mundane, and by themselves they are. An honest, early-morning complaint. A request for patience in traffic and a thankful observance of a created thing - those are small, but put together and they start to carry weight. Once you get used to all the little things, it becomes FAR easier to ask for the big things.

It's about building the connection with something simple, so that when a difficult situation comes along, the Lord's help is the first place you turn. I've been better as of late about the little things, but I suppose I still need practice. As the last few weeks have shown, I still freak out for a while before settling down and turning to God as I should have to begin with.

And look how the Lord has responded! A job, a lovely apartment, another (dream) job, a helping hand and a new car to get me from place to place. What providence! Now it's my turn.