It's in the doing...

So, a few weeks ago the thought came to me, "what would happen if, for nine months I relentlessly pursued God with everything within me? What would life look like if that was my singular motivating aim?" I'm not entirely sure what that looks like, but I do know that it is something that is both frightening and exciting, and something that I am looking forward to seeing on the other side of it. I mean, think about it- how much stuff changes in nine months? Babies go from being just a thought to a fully formed human being. Whole paradigms shift as students learn in class during a school year. The tides of nations are changed in that span of time and often less. Nine months isn't magical. There isn't some secret, biblical, numerological formula for that span of time (so far as I can tell), but it is a sight to set my eyes upon. It is a goal after which I will reach- and so I will.

As I thought about this whole idea of nine months of pursuit, one of the most important things that kept sticking out to me was the reality that real, genuine bible study has to be a part of it. I am not talking about the, wake up, shove a few scriptures down your throat as you head for or run out the door and hope that you remember them throughout the course of the day, or your life. No, I am talking about meditating on the scriptures, letting them take root and knowing that your life is being changed by a word that the Bible says is alive and active. So I started today.

I hopped on The Village Church's website and downloaded their podcast from a few years back about how to study the bible. I listened to it last night before heading off to bed and endeavored to start this morning- and start I did. Today's text was Matthew 1-4, as good a place to start as any, since it is the beginning of the new testament account of the life and work of Jesus. Amongst these texts, something really stuck out to me, namely Matthew 2:20-22. In it Matthew says:

“Get up, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel, for those who were trying to take the child's life are dead.”
21 So he got up, took the child and his mother and went to the land of Israel.22 But when he heard that Archelaus was reigning in Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. Having been warned in a dream, he withdrew to the district of Galilee,

Prior to this text Matthew has introduced us to the birth of Jesus and the fact that Herod is wanting to kill Him for being called "the King of the Jews." Joseph narrowly escapes with his wife and child and waits in Egypt until the death of Herod, the King, before he endeavors to return. Learning about Herod's death, he feels compelled by the Holy Spirit to return back to the land he came from because it is now safe. Along the way he, and seemingly God, change their mind, and suddenly realize that it's not so safe after all. The new king is just as, if not more dangerous than his paternal predecessor. Instead, God again warns Joseph to divert his plans and find himself in another place. The question that sticks out to me is this- didn't God know that Archelaus was king before he told Joseph to go back home? Was God surprised when, along the way back to Israel, an angel came to Him and broke the news, sending Him into a mad scramble to prepare a backup option for Joseph, Mary and Jesus? Or is something else at work here?

Maybe the traveling back to Israel was a pretext for God to show us the power of obedience. Sometimes, it is so easy for us to sit back and wait for a clear and concise direction and to say that until we have it we can't start moving. But what if God is asking us to move in the general direction of what we know and believe that along the way, He will make the details abundantly clear? Maybe that's what was going on here with Joseph. God knew all along what was going to happen. He knew about Herod, knew about Egypt, knew about the return to Israel that would be seemingly thwarted by Archelaus' reign and allowed it to play out exactly as it did, because He wanted to show Joseph (and us) what forward moving obedience looks like. Joseph could very easily have sat in whatever house he had built in Egypt and waited for the precise and exact direction for what was next. Instead, when God said go back to Israel he did, even though it was a very general direction he had been given. Imagine that God said to you, move to China. No city, no province, no idea of what area of the country to find yourself in- just move. How would we respond? More often than not I would say that we would look for signs in the stars, points on a map or a prophecy from someone that would identify all the specifics that our finite brains feel that we need. But what if God is saying "move" and the details will be revealed to you as you move forward. What if God is saying "the direction's in the doing." What are we now waiting on that God is waiting on as well? What if the full explanation of purpose, destiny, and fulfilled calling is waiting like waystations along the journey that is life, and what if we have to walk towards them in order to realize the fullness of our potential? What if waiting on the sidelines for a word will only continue to frustrate us because God is saying to walk confidently in the direction of the dreams that He has given us, believing that along the way more will be revealed. What if it's in the doing?

Grace is simply not getting shot!

Our move to Southeast Texas has been exciting and rewarding so far (well, at least most days!). We are making new friends that are our age, we are getting plugged into ministries that are a real fit for our gifts and graces, and we are enjoying being within 5-10 minutes of all of the features that larger cities offer young adults (sushi, movie theaters, etc).

I am serving two churches on opposite sides of a freeway and from very different worlds. Well, yesterday I was doing what a lot of preachers do with small congregations...I was visiting from house to house with members and their families. It is something that I have done for years.

That is when my life got extremely interesting for a brief moment. I pulled into a driveway, parked, got out of my vehicle and knocked on the door. To my surprise, the home owner opened the door and greeted me with a drawn pistol held to his eye level and pointed directly at my upper torso/head. By the grace of God, I managed to say "hey man, what's happening?" The home owner recognized me, lowered the pistol, set it down somewhere inside and joined me on the porch for a conversation.

Now, this particular neighborhood is not overly rough, but it is changing daily. To the south and west of the neighborhood there are considerably rougher areas, so I was a little surprised at this greeting. We talked for a bit and I discovered that this individual had had some troubles with some locals in the area.

This was not my first encounter with folks carrying...after all, I haven't always been a preacher. But it never occurred to me that pastors should have full body armor as a part of their vestments.

Anyway, I hope that Mr. X gets a peephole in his front door in the near future! In the mean time, I am reveling in the grace that for me today was the simple fact that I didn't get shot!

There is a Place

I'm amazed by God because prayer continues to be the place where I can go and be connected. Today was rough! Day 1 of a fast that I'd long been putting off and I was irritable. I know the Bible says not to wear it on my face and I probably would have been alright if people hadn't been people...do you know what I mean by that? I mean, I could have hidden my irritability if people hadn't poked at it with a stick.

But I pray intensely as a part of this consecration and it's like my whole everything changes. My voice, my diction, my perspective. And it's not fake...I'm not reaching to pretend to be something I'm not, but it's like I'm becoming something that I'm not yet and prayer gives me a glimpse. I connect to God and when I pray with and for people, I often find that my heart for them grows deep. People I wanted to hit with a shovel five seconds ago become people whose lives I want to see enriched by any Godly means necessary.

So I thank God for taking this pastor's heart - often mistaken (when the world gets annoying and people are people and God seems distant) for a burden - and reshaping it until it more closely reflects the heart of my God. Yo, everything really will be alright...somehow, some day, certainly.

Would you hurry it up already?

I feel so restless. Discontent with where I am and unsure of where I’m headed, I ride an emotional rollercoaster these days. It encompasses so many areas of my life, whether it is with my career, finances, with my relationships, and even with my understanding of who God is and what the Church represents in our culture.

I understand God’s grace in the big scheme of things, but what about the Today Grace?

I need some of that.

I don’t want to confuse it with Today Patience because I need some of that, too, but I really, really don’t like my life right now. Days feel dull and void, lifeless, and a wee bit lonely.

G R A C E to make it through and make the most of what I have and don’t have.

Today, I need it. Like… now.

Where's the Grace?

While the title of the post may take you down memory lane to the place of the infamous "Where's the Beef?" commercials, the question today is really quite serious.

I learned early this morning that a member of our community committed suicide (while stoned) this past weekend.

I have not yet been called to do the funeral, although I am in high gear mentally preparing for that call should it occur (there is a loose affiliation with our church and this family).

I thought I would invite you all to a place of holy wrestling. Where is the grace of God in this situation? Is it solely with the family? Is there grace for the one who committed the act? Is Christ's forgiveness sufficient for even times like these?

I would invite you to share your thoughts...and I will come back and share some of mine later this week.

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...?

This is a post from my other blog that I wanted to repost here:

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.

"Don't Say It, Show It."

There are some days I want to mute Christians. Considering I am on staff at a church that is probably not the best thing to admit, but give me a chance to explain. For twelve years I have been blessed to receive a Christian education, but in all of my twelve years do you know what I remember the most? The empty words.

In the culture of the town I grew up and still live in, it seems like people most people who claim to love Jesus have one thing in common: their language. Although I was never informed, I’m certain there must be some secret religious word bank that inspires people who claim to follow Christ to attach religious phrases to common conversation—as if for every word they used they were gaining some brownie point that could be redeemed in Heaven.  If what I suspect is really happening, I hope I end up losing this word bank game.

I am not at all saying that people should avoid all words that sound religious. I am just suggesting that perhaps, unknowingly, we have given them a bit too much control of our vocabulary. The other day I was in a meeting about my major class changes when a professor explained the reason class names were being changed:

“After considering the marketability of our program, the value of our graduates, and of course the leading of the Holy Spirit we have decided to make some changes to the major.”

In my opinion that’s a bit ridiculous. Did they really pray about changing the course name from Mass Media Communications to Media and Pop Culture? Okay, lets give them the benefit of the doubt here and say that yes, they did. Still—the more we hear phrases the more desensitized we become to them. I think that if Christians kept their mouths shut a little more and thought about the meaning of the phrases they used we would use them much more sparingly, and they would have a much greater impact.

One of my writing professors has a saying I hear all too often when editing my work: “Don’t say it, show it.” While it can make me cringe in the classroom, it gives me hope in the church. If as Christians, we made it a priority to show Christ in our lives rather than say He is there, I know we would truly change the world.

There is really only one time of the year I hear the word bank game slow down. It seems as if during Lent people leave their religious phrases at the door. I assume it is partially because there really aren’t too many religious phrases you can tag onto this beautiful season. Jesus did not speak to me to give up chocolate for sixty days. The Holy Spirit did not lead me to participate in this adventurous yet difficult sacrificial journey.  I chose to, completely of my own accord.

There is something magical about Jesus without obligation. I was raised non-denominational so the Lenten season was never a sacrifice I was even subjected to until I was in high school. I have, however, participated in many Christian activities out of obligation. I have attended mandatory chapel services several times a week for years. I was raised going to church at least twice a week. Now I am on staff at a church where the obligation is much more of a joy, but it still requires going to three services a week. I do many things out of obligation, but participating in the Lenten season is not one of them. I suppose that is why I love lent so much. I feel like I have the opportunity to show Jesus just how much I love Him, in a way I quite honestly don’t have to.

I find grace in Jesus without obligation. I find it in the urge I have for that bag of M&Ms. I find it in the movie line that was never intended to point to Christ. I find it the lyric of the song on the retreat I didn’t have to volunteer for. I find grace when God is shown, and not merely spoken of.

Lent screams, “Don’t say it, show it.” I suppose it is that pervasive theme that has allowed this precious season to endure throughout time. I sincerely hope that in this Lenten season you find grace in showing God your love for Him despite obligation. Because while there is most definitely a place for words from Jesus and faithfully seeking God with a body of believers, we have to fight for the place to show the world Jesus, and not merely speak of Him.

Lent(ils)

It's the beginning of the lenten season, one of the holiest times in the Christian calendar, and as I sit in a coffee shop thinking about the weight of what this season means, I am struck by the gravity of my occasional abuse of grace. As I have indicated in previous blogs, I have at times been guilty of pursuing my own goals with God as the supposed focus, but myself as the true aim. It's something we all struggle with- I get that- but it's something to be confronted with the reality of our own selfishness and to be asked by a holy God to let him be God in our lives. It's overwhelming to think that there's a plan that has been set in motion before the foundation of the earth and here I am trying to make it work, as if my actions can make or unmake God's ultimate will. It's much easier to submit and let God be God in my life without him having to continually humble me (as he has had to do of late). But none of that is the point of this blog (I know, but you should be used to my digressive ramblings at this point).

Lent is about reflecting on the days leading up to the death and resurrection of Christ. This season is about thinking through how God was so desirous of our restoration that he was willing to sacrifice so much so that we could be drawn back to Him. What's even more marvelous to me though, is the idea that God still allows us to "taste and see that the Lord is good." I mean, with that much sacrifice, He is still willing to give us the latitude to taste His goodness, kick the tires, and test His faithfulness out for ourselves. His patience is outstanding, but I guess when you're eternal, 6 or 2 or 10 or 20 years of wandering in the proverbial wilderness are nothing. Thank God for His eternal patience.

As I enter into this lenten season, I am entering with a perspective that I don't think I've had in any previous season of my life, lenten or otherwise. I am a part of a greater plan that I didn't start and can't finish. I am a part of a greater story for God's glory and I was created to bring glory to the name that is above every name and who is seeking to draw all people to himself. It's extremely liberating to know that it's not my deal to start, fix, or finish. My deal is to submit and ask God, "what's next?" My job is to move out of the way so that God can be fully God without me fighting to wrest control for my life and my part of the story from his grasp. It's freeing to know that my days were planned out, and while there is a part that I must play (faith without works is dead and all), ultimately it is on a path that God is leading me down if I would just let Him. So, this lent, my prayer is for the continued revealing of how I am supposed to play my part in the greater story. How are my days to be counted amongst the scores that have gone before and will come after? How am I to be my beloved's and he be mine?

What's your focus and prayer during this lent?

Stepping Back...

So, here’s the skinny.  About five years ago, I left a steady (albeit mind numbing) job at my alma matter to venture out into the world of…something.  Always a bit of a restless soul, I was unhappy with the direction (or what I felt was lack thereof) from some of my superiors and the sense of ineptitude I was covering for on a regular basis.  So, I struck out on my own- into the vast sea of supposed (that’s suppose-ed) opportunity seeing what my hand could find to do.  Now, several years later, with much more wisdom and much less naïveté, I find myself facing a crossroads.  It’s hinted at in my last post, but let me expound a little bit.  I want more.

As I have previously stated, I grew up in a house of dreamers, a house of believers in the impossible, and quite honestly, I think I adopted much of that thinking.  In fact, my sister has taken to classifying me as the believer out of the three siblings (she’s the dreamer, and my youngest is the striver/achiever- makes for a really great tattoo should I ever man up and get one).  I see what it is possible to do or be, should that be in writing, creative enterprise, people’s lives, job potential, saving Ethiopian jungle pumas (ok, I made that last one up), and I know that it can and will happen.  So I strive towards the goal of whatever that thing is with faith like a monster and an unquenchable fervor.  It’s served me well in some instances, like when rallying the troops in the last hours of an event when they’re all tired and underpaid, like believing with a friend for a miracle that seems to be slipping out of his or her grasp, the list could go on.  But I sometimes and currently find myself fearing that I’m doing myself a disservice by extending that same thing to me.  What I mean is, I’ve been believing that my God given connections, hard work, and skill sets would pay off, knowing that I am called to something more, and not understanding why the time for that more isn’t happening in the timeframe a little closer to my choosing.  I mean, I have friends who are already well on their way to successful careers- and yet I still struggle with monthly bills.

So, I’ve taken jobs that have been rife with potential, believing that the fulfilled potential was just around the corner, even if it meant I had to struggle and suffer a little bit right now.  While that’s a great idea, and one that I don’t necessarily disagree with, that “right now” season has been about five years long.  It might be time for a change.  That change might (and probably does) mean a reintroduction into the corporate workforce that I have eschewed for so long, and a momentary tabling of (not giving up on) these lofty dreams and ideals to which I have held for so long.  In short, I think I’m temporarily throwing in the towel on working on my dreams, just so that I can live my life.  That doesn’t mean I’m not going to dream, nor does it mean I’m going out looking for the first job that comes my way.  It does mean that the pursuit of where I see myself ultimately is not important right now.  If I get there, I get there, and I have little control over that process right now, save continuing to be myself, with all the dreams and passion bubbling right below the surface.  Right now, I have to live basic life, the kind with the eating, strong friendships, deep conversations, and fun that I haven’t had in abundance throughout the past several years.  I need to be a 27 year old man who has 60+ years ahead of him to fulfill whatever the heck it is he’s supposed to in this life.  I wish that day was today, but since it’s not…plan b.

Why the change of heart? This all came to a head last night.  I spent the good majority of the night in various stages of discomfort in a hospital waiting room, then triage room, then exam room having tests run and blood drawn, x-rays shot, and IVs pumped all because I had the misfortune of contracting some virus that presented me with a 104^o fever and lots of other, well… bad stuff.  As I sat in the discharge center and they plied me with questions that were about as invasive as some of the tests, the gravity of it all hit me.  I have limited resources (that’s a nice way to say that I’m broke), no insurance, and no prospects of getting any anytime soon should current situations continue.  I’ve got a job I love, but it too is so much potential.  The cycle is again repeating itself- and at some point it has to stop.  So I choose that day to be today.  So, monster.com, and whatever else is out there, I’m coming for you, and you’re going to yield your secrets and point me in the direction of jobs and stability.  Friendships that are deeper and more abiding, keep an eye out, I’m headed your way too, we’ve been apart for far too long, food- it’ll be good to see you again in regular and larger quantities, and to any naysayers (internal or external), I’ve not given up.  As Captain John Paul Jones said, “I have not yet begun to fight,” I’m just making a strategic retreat for now.  And maybe that’s grace for me right now.

Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired

I've got this girl cousin who THINKS she knows me...no wait, that's not where I want to start...but remember it, so I don't have to say it again.

I'm sick...101 degree fever, some type of virus my doctor said...stay in bed with daily doses of ______ and ____________ until the fever breaks, which said nothing about how I would deal with the fatigue and dizziness and sinus headaches and congestion and shallow breathing. But doctor's orders are doctor's orders so, "in bed" is where I've been for more hours in the past 5 days than in probably the last 3 weeks. Seriously. I'm used to being busy. I'm used to running on fumes and not even recognizing that I'm doing it. I've just become accustomed to operating on little to no sleep. But had I become used to operating in a manner that was anything but optimal?

My girl cousin said to me: maybe God wants you to get some rest. Did I take that as blasphemy? Almost. I was offended, as though I was so hard headed that God would have to get His point across like this...like I had ignored so many gentle nudges until finally, I had to be knocked on my butt. Just today, when asking me about something that she'd no doubt asked me about before, and which I'd no doubt had an answer (not quite rehearsed, but just as polished) about where it was located very near to the top of my list of priorities, but not quite number 1 at the moment...she said: "i know that ur a busy man w/tons of things on ur plate. (that's my nice way of saying you're forgetful some times)" Okay...ouch! Not the best way to ask for my help...by calling me on my stuff. Well, that would be if I was so prideful as not to see when a good stabbing was deserved.

But is God's grace in this situation turning around a bad situation and mining the essential minerals of goodness out of it? I've gotten a chance to actually do some work while lying in this bed, as opposed to talking about doing the work...whenever I finally got a chance. And, oh goodness, is their time to think!!! This, I've found is helpful for real prioritization...the kind that is determined by plan and not by circumstance. I will never tell my cousin that she knows me, because she will eventually find out anyway. She's won too easily already and should have to work for something, shouldn't she? Don't answer that. I'm convinced of it and that settles it for me. Thanks anyway and thanks for listening.

The painful in between

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.

Delivery Time

It’s been awhile… a long duration since I’ve exposed the inner Brittany to the world. At first it was a serious case of writer’s block, followed then by an inability to vomit out the words that were lurking within me - where I couldn’t communicate what or who I was to myself or to anyone else. That has changed.

I, for some time now, have been in a period of gestation – what I believe to be a season where old dreams come to life. A time of rebirth.

In all the pain that I walked through over the last nine months, I felt – from its conception – that this was a John 16 moment [John 16:20-22]. The scripture refers to a woman in labor who suffers pain and anguish; however, upon the birth, she is so overcome with joy that she remembers that pain – but feels it no longer. When reading that passage many months ago, I too, felt that I was in that place. A place upon which I suffered and felt the pangs of something that was alive within me, yet hopeful of what would spring forth from it.

I write today to celebrate [the eve of] nine months. I truly feel that this gestation period has ended, and my initial instinct was accurate. Life has been breathed into what I thought was stale and decomposed. Dreams and talents have been restored and I am so grateful to the Lord for it. This season was initially stemmed from brokenness of an unfaithful relationship, and it has taken me until today to forgive him. Today… I feel free.

I have encountered more of God’s grace [at least that I am aware of] during this time than I ever have in my entire life, and I know that there is a direct correlation between the release of bitterness and unforgiveness towards that [hu]man in order to be free and fully release the regeneration of the dreams I felt were dead and gone.

Words cannot express the joy I feel when I look at where I’ve been and where I am now. I have completed an insanely long journey! I look at the opportunities that are knocking on my door, and I am simply floored by the accuracy of timing during these nine months – even to the point where I reflect on the last three months [last trimester] and discover how much I have grown, developed, and redefined who I am.

So, Happy [re]birth-day Briniloo! Its delivery time.