Jesus' Nerd

Some late night musings

2010-08-12T22:38:00.000-07:00

Two quick things:

One, I had a weird realization this week. I don't know what brought it on, maybe thinking about Inception, maybe this stomach bug I seem to have. But what I realized is that Return of the Jedi doesn't fit properly into Star Wars. I have never really given it a lot of thought before. I haven't seen Return since the re-release in '99. In the mean time, Lord of the Rings came and went and I had sort of lumped the two together in my understanding of trilogies. Lucas has peddled the idea that Star Wars was meant to be a trilogy from the beginning (which this article dispels). But LoTR has a definite goal and in pursuit of that goal, the stakes keep getting raised. Return gives us another Death Star and Ewoks. Also, Han is a caricature of his former character and Luke is a caricature of Obi-Won. I don't know what to do with this. I'll just table it for now.

Two, concerning net neutrality. I don't know what to do with this at all. A quick primer to those not familiar with it. Net neutrality is where everything on the internet can be accessed as quickly and easily as everything else. If net neutrality were not in place, internet service providers could give priority to certain sites or even block them all together. Pretty much everything I have come across on the subject (admittedly not much; maybe a dozen articles over several years; here are a couple good ones I have read recently) has viewed the loss of net neutrality as bad, that it would destroy the internet. But aside from generally disbelieving doomsday scenarios, I am starting to think that the loss of net neutrality could be good. Now, I highly doubt this will be read by anything like a hostile audience, but all the same please let me list off my reasons before lynching me.

Here is why I doubt it will much effect me to begin with. I only use the internet for a handful of tasks, mostly involving the reading and submission of text. For text and image based entities, I doubt that bandwidth is a serious problem. I do listen to a lot of podcasts, I do use YouTube and a few other video sources, and occasionally I play games online. There might be some problems there but all in all, the difference for me if I lost them would be mostly in novelty.

Here is why I think it could be good. Precisely the reason the internet works the way it does now is that it is free of interference. And I have to ask, is that a good thing? What that means, on the clearly bad side, is that most of the internet is porn. There is a rule of the internet, Rule 34, which states that if you can think of it, there is porn of it on the internet. And the existence of it, along with the ease of access, feeds the national addiction to it which in turn increases the demand.

But that is a subset of a larger problem, which is that the internet creates virtual communities as substitutes for real ones. Porn is just a part of this; it is fake, simulated intimacy. This is not to say that talking with people online is not real interaction or that a relationship is only significant if you can meat face to face. What it is to say that humans are physical beings and that there is depth in looking someone in the eye, shaking their hand, giving a hug, that the internet cannot supply. Which is where I think the porn comes in. I know this is a bigger discussion than what time I am devoting to it but I will just say this: how many times have you heard a story about an online affair that became a physical one? We long for presence along with conversation.

But the biggest thing is that the internet is a place lacking in justice. There is little accountability and no rules. And mostly, I just gloss over that. It's like walking through a bad part of town on the way to the theater. If you keep your eyes forward and don't dawdle, you should be fine. Just stay in the dim light from the street lamps and you'll make it. And eventually, you just stop caring that the internet encourages the worst and vilest kind of language and discourse, that it is filled with filth, that it facilitates theft, and generally just makes it all around easier to sin and harder to be righteous. Because that is just the way it is and I like my viral videos.

Well, so much for quick.

On Weariness and Humor

2010-07-22T23:26:00.000-07:00

A strange thing has happened to me over the last few days: I don't find things as funny as I usually do. Generally speaking, I have a pretty broad sense of humor. I think it is related partially to having a fairly wide frame of reference. Instant understanding is key to comedy. The old saying about explaining a joke kills it. The other part is what I imagine to be a subconscious appreciation of good joke construction. Jokes play with our expectations, they present us with the unexpected. Even lacking a complete understanding of the material, a proper arrangement of the beats of the joke still rings true. This is often how I feel about xkcd. It isn't a strip written with me in mind. The writer presents things that interest him and he does it well and more often than not I find it hilarious. Just not today.

I'm sure it's just lack of sleep, the last side-effect of getting a tooth pulled out and the medicated existence of recovery. But it remains an unnerving experience. I hear a joke and recognize it as funny but the gut reaction to humor is diminished. The effect of comedy is cumulative and so even a minor reduction to the impact of jokes adds up pretty quickly. It's a numbness, one that reminds me of depression and my dark night of the soul. Hence the unnerving bit.

But as much as I love my sense of humor, as much as I have feared its loss in the past, that is not the numbness I should fear. Ecclesiastes says it is better to be in a house of mourning than a house of feasting. This is not to contradict Proverbs that says that laughter makes the bones fat. It is to say that the easiest way to escape our existential dilemma is find a quick laugh. We use humor to evade the pressing issues of our existence: life and death and the hereafter. Which is silly because we can't. Death is a certainty and when it stare us in the face, putting on a clown nose and giving it a honk won't cause it to turn away. As much as I enjoy times of laughter, what I need is to be able to feel pain so that I can deal with problems. I don't think it is a coincidence that the disease that Jesus dealt with most was leprosy.

I'm tired and not sure how to wrap this one up. Pain began with sin. Pain is a sign that something is wrong. Pain is a gift as it removes the illusion that this world is where we belong, that everything is as it should be. Pain draws us to the One who heals us, to the One who bore the brunt of our actions so that we might go home; so that we could be with Him.

Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

A look at determinism

2010-07-11T01:04:00.000-07:00

This strip is from just about my favorite webcomic, Schlock Mercenary (it is second only to Penny-Arcade and that is mostly because PA is more of a counter-culture revolution at this point). This captures what I feel about determinism in general and Calvinism in particular. Enjoy.

On Ann Coulter

2010-07-06T21:04:00.000-07:00

So yeah...she's a handful.

I am not a particularly political person, mostly because it is neither fun nor funny and the people you would have to deal with seem to be demon possessed and/or dead. Also, and I can't state this strongly enough, I hate meetings. Hate them. All of them. They are, quite possibly, the single worst social invention in history and I want them all to stop. SOMEONE JUST MAKE A FREAKING DECISION ALREADY! WHY ARE WE STILL TALKING!

Sorry, I had a flashback to student government (story for another time). But as God is teaching me the necessity of not fighting the culture wars stupidly, I am trying to broaden my horizons about politics and how I should be involved as a Christian. Which brings me to Ann Coulter. Why, you might ask?

Apparently she is a Christian.

And now for the portion of the blog where I talk to myself:

Huh.

Yeah, I know.

But she's so...mean.

No kidding.

I mean, I'm not like that and I'm a Christian.

Well, that's true. Good thing you are not the standard by which all Christians are measured.

Fair point...but didn't I just state that I'm not mean?

Doesn't count when it is self analysis.

If you...

Ahem

...I say so.

And now back to the blog already in progress.

So, I'm looking at Ann Coulter and some of her articles and even an interview she gave a while back and I must say that I am a big fan. Her humor does not always work and yes, I find her to be harsh, but she is absolutely fantastic at pointing out the hypocrisy of the left. And now, for the other shoe.

Ann Coulter should not be doing what she is doing. But not for the reason that you think.

I was talking to my mentor one day and he was talking about Deborah, a righteous woman of God and the only female judge of Israel. He was talking about Deborah's song and how the form of it was Canaanite. What he said was that the point of the song was to parody the ways of the Canaanites in verse that the Canaanites would use in order to make the Canaanites and their practice ridiculous in the eyes of the Israelites. His analogy was Weird Al's Amish Paradise. You can't watch that video and then go back to Coolio's original. It's just not...cool anymore.

I feel like this is what Ms. Coulter does: she shows just how ridiculous liberalism is. But the thing about Deborah that is always at the forefront of my thinking about her is how she did not seek to lead Israel in war. That call was on a man, Barak son of Abinoam. He shrugged that responsibility by making his obedience conditional on Deborah's assistance and was therefore denied honor. This paradigm is what I think about when I think of male leadership. It is not that women are incapable of leadership or that they would do a bad job, it is that God has given to men a responsibility and when it is avoided, men are diminished and women are endangered.

I don't think Ann Coulter should be writing her books or doing shows not because she is wrong, because I don't think she is. I don't think she should stop because I don't like her style, even though I do think it could use some work (and I do mean some, mostly in comedic timing and a little bit of tact). I think she should stop because men should rise up to do what she does: calling hypocrites out on their hypocrisy. I don't want to be one of those men (see previous thoughts on meetings) but...well, Lord, do with me what You will.

On Memes

2010-06-21T19:58:00.001-07:00

As I wait in a limbo of dental surgery delays, I would like to post this brief thought: of all the memes throughout the history of the internet, my favorite has to be the vuvezela. At this point, I must have seen (and I'm estimating) 2.4*10 to the eighth power vuvuzela jokes from various sources. I love them all. Each new take is special and precious in its own way, like a snowflake or like comments on how snowflakes are unique. But for all my love of this vuvuzela meme (and that love is quite vast), it does lack the utility of another recent meme, coincidentally also an annoying noise source that could not be stopped. I believe you know of what I speak.

Also, this is a pretty cool story/pic.

On Superman

2010-06-07T20:18:00.001-07:00

I am still planning on posting my thoughts on Jesus, masculinity, and culture but that topic is a bit more complex. And since I just received a word of encouragement to continue in my writing, here is a brief aside on the greatest of all superheroes, Superman:

I have been reading comics for most of my life and by far my favorite character is Superman. It was not always so. I started reading X-Men due to the '90's cartoon and my older cousin's interest. The tale of a band of misfits fighting for a better world despite the animosity of the populace fit in well with an anti-social Christian kid. But it was my youth minister who got me interested in Superman. I got on board the comic during Grant Morrison's JLA run, which was right during the height of Superman, Electric Blue Boogaloo. Despite that, I loved Superman. I had glanced through enough comics at the grocery store (back when there were comics at the grocery store) to have seen his stories. I had caught the fringes of the death and return storyline, the return of Lex Luthor, and other assorted tales. Through my youth minister I learned a bit of his history, some of his story trends (every time that Superman is dealing with radiation poisoning, whether kryptonite or solar, Parasite shows up…every time), but mostly I learned to appreciate why he was the greatest.

Everyone knows Superman's origin story: the last child of a dead world, sent to Earth. But it wasn't until I started thinking about him in comparison to other superheroes that it started to make sense. Take Batman. Bruce Wayne was the son of loving, wealthy parents. And in an instant, they were taken from him, along with his innocence. Bruce Wayne died that day, and what took his place, though it would long go without a name, was a creature of pain and darkness. His is a life defined by loss, and as such it is supremely sad. Not so with Superman. His parents, in seeing the destruction around them, did the only thing they could to protect their son. They sent him away to a place beneath their technological might, which proved so lacking in saving themselves, but abundant in the one resource that any good parent wants for their child: love. And this is what defined him and is supremely beautiful. Batman does good in the hope of saving others from what he has suffered. Superman does good because the sacrifice made on his behalf was sufficient to save him. In light of the cross, I guess it's not too hard to see the appeal.

Input Processing

2010-05-18T22:46:00.000-07:00

Things running around my noggin:
MMA, Jesus, and Masculinity;
Some post about the perpetuation of rape-culture in young adult literature;
John Greene giving dating advice.

Processing...

Processing...

Processing...

On Interpreting Scripture and Why We Are Screwed

2010-04-13T18:26:00.001-07:00

So, I was looking through my RSS feed (man, I love that thing) and Christ and Pop Culture put up a link to an interview with Jennifer Knapp, talking about her life, her Sabbatical from Christian music, and her coming out of the closet. First, that makes me sad. I'm not a fan. I picked up one of her albums because it was free and have heard her music on KSBJ (before the advent of the iPod I used to listen to the radio; it's crazy). But from what I hazily recall, she did good work. But even had she not, she claims to be a Christian and I want good for all who make such a claim. And homosexuality is not good, it's not beneficial, and there will be a cost.

I am also perplexed. I read in Scripture a very strong and clear condemnation of homosexuality. It is a sin. So how do you go from Scriptures condemnation of it as an unnatural lust to it being acceptable and good? So, I read a bit of her interview and even a link to a gay christian website. That is when I got mad. Essentially, they accuse me of being fearful and bigoted, persecuting them like the Pharisees persecuted Jesus. Now aside from not liking being called a Pharisee...

...DON'T SAY THAT YOU ARE BEING LIKE CHRIST WHEN YOU ARE TWISTING SCRIPTURE TO JUSTIFY YOUR SIN!!! It's kind of like when a rich white guy compares himself to Rosa Parks (I cannot tell you how long I have wanted to use that reference) except INFINITELY worse because you are comparing yourself to our perfect Lord.

And that will end the screaming portion of this post. Because once the anger is acknowledged, the sadness returns. I don't know how it happened or when, but people who acknowledge a need for Jesus and for grace and for mercy have been deceived. It was Satan's first tactic and with it he excels. Satan was so bold as to attempt such a maneuver against Christ Himself. It's not a surprise that it worked on them or anyone else. It is so much easier to convince someone of a lie. There are people smarter, wiser, more informed, and have read the Bible more than me who are Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, and Atheists. Just talking to one person who is sure that they are right makes me wonder if I'm the crazy one. But again, the unbelievers don't sadden me. And they certainly don't scare me. Because if you want to look at something truly terrifying, it is this:

"Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?' Then I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!'" -Matthew 7:21-23.

That someone could wield power in the name of God and not be saved, that they could go to their deaths convinced that they were Heaven-bound only to find that they were absolutely wrong. There is no metric for salvation save a relationship with Jesus. And without that, there is no revelation, no truth, and no hope.

Where there is no revelation, the people cast off restraint; but blessed is he who keeps the law. -Proverbs 29:18.

The Heavens Declare...

2010-04-10T15:20:00.000-07:00

One of the sites I frequent is Astronomy Picture of the Day. They show a picture a day with a brief description from an astronomer. Whether you read the description or not, the images are gorgeous. This is one of those images (click said image if you want a better look at it):

"In the heavens there is nothing accidental, nothing arbitrary, nothing out of order, nothing erratic. Everywhere is order, truth, reason, constancy ...I cannot understand this regularity in the stars, this harmony of time and motion in their various orbits through all eternity, except as the expression of reason, mind and purpose ...Their constant and eternal motion, wonderful and mysterious in its regularity, declares the indwelling power of a divine intelligence. If any man cannot feel the power of God when he looks upon the stars, then I doubt whether he is capable of any feeling." -Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods.

There exist in creation so many things that bring about awe and wonder, that speak of transcendence. I don't know how anyone can escape that greater things are happening than can be accounted for by simply "matter plus energy plus chance." And on a lighter note because I just love this song:

I feel bad for George Lucas

2010-04-09T16:57:00.001-07:00

I should preface this by saying that it is not entirely out of left field or out of some desire to establish nerd-cred. A few weeks ago, this article was posted on io9.com, which is a wonderful site for all things geek. And a week or so before that, my brother showed me this video. The article is about the fan reaction to Lucas' actions since the special edition of Star Wars and the video is about the "Han shot first" debate. And these have got me thinking about Mr. Lucas and the impact that he has had on my generation.

One of my first memories is of me, my brothers, and my cousins watching Star Wars. According to my parents, it was just about a daily occurrence. My Dad relates how we would have him read to us the opening lines of the title crawl, including "dot, dot, dot" for the ellipsis (I had to look that up to make sure I was thinking of the right term) at the end. Not "dot, dot." Not "dot, dot, dot, dot." This was important and had to be done right. I remember our cousins owning what seemed like thousands of Star Wars toys, including the Falcon and an X-Wing. I remember sitting on the bus when some jerk kid spoiled that Darth Vader was Luke's father (I realize that I didn't put a spoiler alert in that myself but it's been two decades and four films; I think you've had time to see Empire Strikes Back by now). I remember reading Splinter of the Mind's Eye, one of the first (if not the first) of the Star Wars novels, and the first book I read on my own for fun. Star Wars has had a huge impact on how I view heroism, the importance of narrative, and even how you should organize the Church (change "Master" to "Elder," "Knight" to "Deacon," and "Padawan" to "Layperson" and you pretty much have an ideal setup for making disciples). All of that is to say that this battle from a long time ago and a galaxy far, far away is a very large part of my life. I feel indebted to George Lucas and this funny little idea he had of a fantasy space opera. Which is why I feel bad for the man.

Now I realize how odd it is that I, a 28-year-old unemployed man living with his parents, feel bad for a 60 or 70 year-old-billionaire whose work has had a global impact. So let me explain that a little. There was a time long ago and far away where there was a guy named George who made movies. He had all these stories he wanted to tell, personal stories. The problem was that before working on all those other personal stories, he made Star Wars and it forever dominated his destiny. I don't know how Mr. Lucas feels about Star Wars, if he thinks it is the greatest story he could tell or just an easy way to make money. But whatever he feels about it, Star Wars owns Mr. Lucas. If anybody else surrounded themselves with as much Star Wars memorabilia as he does, we would call them obsessed, imbuing a love of Star Wars with religious fervor. We would pity them for not being able to differentiate between real life and fantasy. At the very least, we would say that they were stuck in the past.

The fan reaction to his new work doesn't help in the slightest (as illustrated in the io9 article). I don't know how you feel about the new trilogy but I hope that you can agree that the fan reaction is more than a little over the top (I don't know what surprises me more, that the term "George Lucas raped my childhood" exists or that it has been used so much). I won't say that I love the new trilogy. I don't. But I don't hate it (and actually, after reading the novelization of Revenge of the Sith [yes, I watched the movie and read the book; sue me], I appreciate what the overall story was accomplishing much more; I might even say that I liked it…might). I certainly don't feel any of the vitriol that so many of my fellow nerds feel. But I think I understand it.

I remember reading some article around the time the prequels were announced that put forth the argument for a sequel series instead. By this point, dozens of books following the adventures of Luke, Han, Leia, and company had been published. There was a wealth of source material to draw on for a sequel and the original actors were still available and young enough to take part in the endeavor. The prequel could be explored through other means, whether books, TV or some other media. It was a convincing argument to me, a chance to see something new. Instead, Mr. Lucas went back to scripts supposedly thirty years old. He was stuck in the past.

So, that is why feel bad for the man: he is a slave to his own success, shackled to a monument for over thirty years, and very alone. What is the Gospel for him? Jesus is not just bigger than your sins, bigger than your failures. He is bigger than your success. Bigger than your fame. Bigger than your ego. Bigger than Star Wars. And He won His battle a long time ago and very far away.

Quick Interlude

2010-04-04T13:13:00.001-07:00

I realize that this is not about George Lucas. I started collecting my thoughts, walking and talking and recording. I finished my ramblings to find that I had recorded over twenty minutes of material, and that was incomplete. So, I'm going to have to break that up into a few posts. In the mean time, a brief account of what I did yesterday.

My brother was expecting an iPad at the shop yesterday but he was going to be tied up with new member class at church. So I go into the shop for 4 hours to wait for the delivery, only for it to arrive 10 minutes after he shows up. But the iPad (or as my little nephew calls it, "Daddy's big phone") is very nice. I wouldn't have any use for it right now but Apple makes pretty tech. But truth be told, I don't like the idea behind owning an Apple computer. The Mac versus PC argument is about freedom versus convenience. A Mac will do pretty much everything the average consumer wants it to do (except play most video games but consoles are so common that it isn't that big of an issue). And a Mac will do it fairly well, but you can only do it one way. If that one way doesn't work for you, you are boned. A PC can do everything that anyone wants it to do but the more customized you want it, the more work it takes. Truthfully, it isn't that I have done anything on my laptop that I couldn't have done on a PC (except, again for the video games). But having freedom I don't need right now is better for my sensibilities than having a shiny package I don't care too much about (blah blah blah, Calvinism reference). And I can still use my iPod Touch so best of both worlds.

Anyway, from the shop I went to the comic book store and picked up the last issue of Blackest Night (don't worry, K, no spoilers here). Since Blackest Night leads right into Brightest Day, it's no surprise that the final issue did not end the story arc. It was still a satisfying conclusion. Oddly enough, it was an ending like this that caused me to leave the Avengers after Secret Invasion. Well, that's not entirely true. The ending of Secret Invasion was much grimmer in tone. But what got me was that Secret Invasion, a story which spanned some dozen books a month, was leading directly into Dark Reign and another dozen or so books a month. And with that, I left.

Some breaks from books are longer than others. I left X-Men because Cyclops was telepathically cheating on Pheonix with the White Queen and then ended up with the White Queen after immediately after Pheonix's death. I mean, her body wasn't even cold, yet. Spider-Man made a deal with the devil (not figuratively, like the Green Goblin or Dr. Doom, I mean the Marvel universe's representation of the actual devil). And whatever rationale they have tossed out since then, heroes don't make deals with the devil. Period. These are big issues for me, what actually makes someone heroic. And though I have no doubt that such thins will be fixed down the line, until they are I am keeping my distance. But with all that said, I would pick up the Avengers right now if money weren't an issue. But since it is, I go with the mega-story arc that I prefer, where the heroes are just a bit more heroic.

But all of that is not what I wanted to talk about. For yesterday, April the Fourth, Addo Domini MMX, I began the most nerdy of all my endeavors: I spent multiple hours trying to decipher a made up language from a comic book (actually, spending some 50 hours working on an Excel D&D spreadsheet may be nerdier; I'll have to wait on the judges' decision). The whole process intrigues me: it's problem solving; it's storytelling; it appeals to my language skills; and it draws me into a conversation over a subject I like. So, anyone who possible stumbles onto this seeking clues to the meaning of the Indigo Tribe language, here are a couple good
places I have come across.

Well, so much for quick. Blessings.

…Now with 50% more Nerd!

2010-03-27T16:11:00.001-07:00

I entitled this blog Jesus' Nerd for the simplest of reasons: I am a nerd who belongs to Jesus. This means two things for me in the posts I would want to make: one, I talk about Jesus a lot. Whenever you have a nerd, whatever term they use to preface that statement is usually what they talk about most of the time. There are many subcategories of nerdom, fiefdoms where the masses plant their flag. And you will find out quickly from which land they come and to which land they long to return. So, if I pursue Jesus in a nerdy way, I will love Him, learn about Him, and share what I learn. And in that regard, I believe the blog lives up to its name.

Where it has failed, more than not, is the second type of post: I talk about nerdy things and see how they connect to Jesus. There are multiple reasons to do this. One, I think that nerd culture has begun to move out of the dark, dank basement to which it had been consigned and into the light of the larger culture. This is certainly not a new phenomenon. The aughts belonged to the nerds. Video games are mainstream. Comic book movies have owned the summer box office. Computers are in everything. Even our president is a nerd. This is not to say that all things nerdy are cool. D&D is never going to be the thing to do at the club scene (or Magic: the Gathering; or Warhammer; or a thousand other things). But being a nerd is far from the insult that it used to be. In fact, it is next to impossible to not like something nerdy in this present age of geek.

The next reason is that I am a part of this culture. I have watched 95% of all Star Trek media (the only thing that I have not seen the bulk of is the original series and the animated series). I have read at least 200 Star Wars books (not including the comics, which I never really got into). I have been reading comics for over 15 years and own over 3,000. I have played games on every console ever made and have stood at more than one midnight release. By any standard (and maybe every standard), I am a nerd. So now, how can I be in this culture but not of this culture?

And that leads to the final point. We have a growing population of a subculture, a subculture spread out all across the country. Even if it is only 1% of the country, that's over 3 million people. And my guess is that that is an extremely conservative number. When World of Warcraft has had a subscriber base as high as 11 million plus just 2 years ago (and that "game" is one part fun, three parts job), we have a lot of nerds. So, what is the Gospel to them? Sometimes, it's real simple. The reluctant hero story is about the most common Sci-Fi story. Scripture is littered with such characters. Nerds love Tolkien; Tolkien loved Jesus. Even D&D creator, Gary Gygax, professed belief in Jesus, even while his most vehement opposition was from those who claimed the same.

Often, it takes more time. Paul didn't just walk up to the Greeks at the Areopagus (Mars Hill) and casually toss out that he noticed that they had an idol to the unknown God. At the very least, that was one idol among dozens, if not hundreds. Unless you knew to look for it, you would probably never find it. That is, unless you searched, long and hard, for some point of contact to get your audience from where they live to where God dwells, waiting in eager anticipation to welcome people into His home as sons from every nation and race and people. And every culture. Even if it is really nerdy.

So, I have at least a dozen posts on my docket. These are all things I am interested in; some of them that may actually be interesting to others. But I have a couple that are specifically nerdy, and those will take precedence for awhile. The first one (which is actually the one I set out to type as this one before I got swept away on a "Nerd Apologetics Mission Statement") will be about George Lucas. I realize that is a little on the nose for a nerdy post, but come on. I mean really, come on. You can't be a nerd and not have an opinion on the man. And for that reason alone, it's worth tackling.

How did the fantastic become mundane?

2010-03-23T18:28:00.000-07:00

I was looking at digg and followed a link to this video. It is visually stunning and I loved it. Right with it is this video, which is the making of the previous video. And as stunning as the visuals were, the process behind it is more so, namely in the revelation of how much is CG. The short answer is all of it. But while you are watching, the only reason that you know that what you are seeing is CG is because it is impossible. And so, my question from the top.

I wonder about things that my nephews have now that I could not fathom when I was a child. The personal computer was a new concept when I was a kid. So were car phones. The internet was unheard of till my teens. We still have some VHS tapes lying around the house. It's not simply that all of these things simply appeared but within half a generation, they became commonplace and orders of magnitude better. How did all this become normal? There are places, many places, most places, where running water and electricity are non-existent.

I realize that this is not a new idea, the craziness that is our modern existence. Sometimes it just hits you: we live in the future.

P.S. Still waiting on a hovercar and robot.

Taking a Break

2010-03-09T20:35:00.001-08:00

Just wanted to talk about something not theologically loaded so, two items:

Item one: This link is via Christ and Pop Culture. Now, I had never heard of Ken Myers before watching this clip (which, by the way, is nearly an hour, so be warned) but after about thirty minutes, I would have bought every book he has ever written and probably his top ten recommendations. Thankfully for my wallet, he has written only one book and he has a podcast. In any event, the video deals with such dense topics that I wish I had a transcript of it (that's not true; I wish I could hang out with him, record our conversations, and make transcripts of that). He talks about specialization of information mediums (for instance, a hymnal allows you not merely to list songs but to pass on a tradition of worship as well as instruction on music; a projector allows for convenience but also displays the transient nature of worship), how forms convey information just as words/lyrics do (certain kinds of music, regardless of lyrics, encourage a particular type of physical reaction through dance as well as an emotional reaction), and a host of other things. I will have to listen to it again tomorrow and take notes.

Item two: I went on this opening today to let a woman into her home. Dad was not feeling great and my brother was busy so I got the nod. The call went fine and the customer was quite appreciative of the service. We got to talking, as customers are wont to do, and she told me about the various stresses that made locking her keys in her house almost inevitable. Her oldest son is a tech in the Army, supposed to be fairly safe, but he fell off a guard tower on a rainy day and was injured. The injury itself was not too bad (broke a bone I think) but what happened was that he got an infection (I forget what she called it but she described it as like staph but much worse; started with an "M," I think). The infection went untreated for over two weeks and so now her son is in ICU about to undergo his fifth surgery. On top of that, her husband is flying back tonight, she is flying out, and she needed to go pick up her youngest boy. Suffice it to say, she was under the gun.

I confess to you now that I have never been good with dealing with other people's suffering. The tension of being truthful without dismissive is never more present then when someone is in the midst of crisis. And so, as she is describing her situation (as well as the string of six calls that it took to get a locksmith out to her) I know that I am there for a reason and I know that prayer is at the heart of it. But in my fear of appearing to push religion on someone in need, I finished up and only said that I would be praying for her and her son. Now, I say only purposefully because I find that people prefer to be prayed with and prayed over personally but I panicked and so it did not occur to me to just ask if she would mind. I don't want to make more out of this than it is and God will do good regardless of my clumsiness. I just missed out on a chance to see something of what he was doing.

What kills me is that I was listening to Ravi Zacharias on the ride there. He was making an observation about the story of Jesus healing of Bartimaeus. And it got me thinking about the faith it took to cry out for mercy to anyone when so many would have treated him as invisible or un-helpable or even deserving of his current state. And yet he shouted, over the protests and the jeers in the hope that Jesus might take notice. To think that any stranger would be concerned, let alone one whom he called "Son of David," and therefore a king and much favored by God. Mercy…he wasn't owed anything, he didn't deserve healing, but he needed mercy.

Dear Lord, have mercy on me, the greatest of sinners, unworthy though I am of your attention. I can't see what you are doing or how you are accomplishing it. I don't know what you are doing in the life of that woman or her son or the rest of her family. And yet, though I cannot see, I know that you are good and gracious and abounding in love and faithfulness. I pray that You will be glorified in their lives. I beg that you would be glorified in mine. Forgive me of my failings in your service and equip me to do those works which You have prepared for me. You are better than I ever dare to dream and I will thank You forever for the love you have bestowed on me.

On Why I am not a Calvinist, Part 3 (The legend continues)

2010-03-07T23:42:00.000-08:00

So, after spending much of the last several hours thinking about (and being frustrated by) Calvinism, this story was sitting in my inbox. I am not exactly a Lucado fan and it has been awhile since I read anything of his, but this is enough to get me to break out that one book of his I was given as a graduation gift. If you do not tear up reading it, then you may want to make sure you still have a heart in your chest. It may not seem directly relevant to this discussion but I will get to that after.

Dear Friend

by Max Lucado

Dear Friend,

I’m writing to say thanks. I wish I could thank you personally, but I don’t know where you are. I wish I could call you, but I don’t know your name. If I knew your appearance, I’d look for you, but your face is fuzzy in my memory. But I’ll never forget what you did.

There you were, leaning against your pickup in the West Texas oil field. An engineer of some sort. A supervisor on the job. Your khakis and clean shirt set you apart from us roustabouts. In the oil field pecking order, we were at the bottom. You were the boss. We were the workers. You read the blueprints. We dug the ditches. You inspected the pipe. We laid it. You ate with the bosses in the shed. We ate with each other in the shade.

Except that day.

I remember wondering why you did it.

We weren’t much to look at. What wasn’t sweaty was oily. Faces burnt from the sun; skin black from the grease. Didn’t bother me, though. I was there only for the summer. A high-school boy earning good money laying pipe.

We weren’t much to listen to, either. Our language was sandpaper coarse. After lunch, we’d light the cigarettes and begin the jokes. Someone always had a deck of cards with lacy-clad girls on the back. For thirty minutes in the heat of the day, the oil patch became Las Vegas—replete with foul language, dirty stories, blackjack, and barstools that doubled as lunch pails.

In the middle of such a game, you approached us. I thought you had a job for us that couldn’t wait another few minutes. Like the others, I groaned when I saw you coming.

You were nervous. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other as you began to speak.

“Uh, fellows,” you started.

We turned and looked up at you.

“I, uh, I just wanted, uh, to invite … ”

You were way out of your comfort zone. I had no idea what you might be about to say, but I knew that it had nothing to do with work.

“I just wanted to tell you that, uh, our church is having a service tonight and, uh … ”

“What?” I couldn’t believe it. “He’s talking church? Out here? With us?”

“I wanted to invite any of you to come along.”

Silence. Screaming silence.

Several guys stared at the dirt. A few shot glances at the others. Snickers rose just inches from the surface.

“Well, that’s it. Uh, if any of you want to go … uh, let me know.”

After you turned and left, we turned and laughed. We called you “reverend,” “preacher,” and “the pope.” We poked fun at each other, daring one another to go. You became the butt of the day’s jokes.

I’m sure you knew that. I’m sure you went back to your truck knowing the only good you’d done was to make a good fool out of yourself. If that’s what you thought, then you were wrong.

That’s the reason for this letter.

Some five years later, a college sophomore was struggling with a decision. He had drifted from the faith given to him by his parents. He wanted to come back. He wanted to come home. But the price was high. His friends might laugh. His habits would have to change. His reputation would have to be overcome.

Could he do it? Did he have the courage?

That’s when I thought of you. As I sat in my dorm room late one night, looking for the guts to do what I knew was right, I thought of you.

I thought of how your love for God had been greater than your love for your reputation.

I thought of how your obedience had been greater than your common sense.

I remembered how you had cared more about making disciples than about making a good first impression. And when I thought of you, your memory became my motivation.

So I came home.

I’ve told your story dozens of times to thousands of people. Each time the reaction is the same: The audience becomes a sea of smiles, and heads bob in understanding. Some smile because they think of the “clean-shirted engineers” in their lives. They remember the neighbor who brought the cake, the aunt who wrote the letter, the teacher who listened …

Others smile because they have done what you did. And they, too, wonder if their “lunchtime loyalty” was worth the effort.

You wondered that. What you did that day wasn’t much. And I’m sure you walked away that day thinking that your efforts had been wasted.

Excerpted fromThey weren’t.

So I’m writing to say thanks. Thanks for the example. Thanks for the courage. Thanks for giving your lunch to God. He did something with it; it became the Bread of Life for me.

Gratefully,
Max

P.S. If by some remarkable coincidence you read this and remember that day, please give me a call. I owe you lunch.

From In the Eye of the Storm
Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 1997) Max Lucado

Now, clearly this unnamed Christian brother is living out the call to be Christ-like; to humble ourselves and pursue those whom Christ loves. And that humility, to do what God calls us to despite of the cost, is a principal point of the story. And what makes this man humble? That he pursues those who will scorn him, i.e. those who will not merely choose to ignore him but ridicule him for his attempts. In other words, the story is beautiful because it displays God's unconditional love. And loving only those who will love you is the definition of conditional love. But enough on that. It is not for the winning of arguments that we pursue such discussions but souls. I hope this story blessed you as it did me. I also hope that I don't get sued for posting it on my blog but I doubt that will be much of a problem, A.) because Lucade is a Christian and, B.) because who is ever going to stumble upon this site?

Go in courage. God is for you, who can be against you?

On Why I am not a Calvinist, Part 2 (Yeah, I guess this is going to be a thing)

2010-03-06T07:07:00.001-08:00

Before I go on, I want to comment on my previous post. Writing the post and making the subject matter personal fired me up more than a little bit. Whether that comes across in the writing I would not be able to full say. What I can say is that I see it and I want to be very careful about that. In speaking about important things, the good goal is to bring glory to God; that at the end of the conversation Christian brothers can come together and rejoice that God is so much better than we deserve and yet He loves sinners like you and me. The bad goal is to bring glory to me, to prove that I am right and very literally) damn the consequences. By God's grace, I want to pursue the former and shun the latter. I also don't want to make it any harder for any brother or sister of mine to do likewise. Christ died for you too, as it happens. I figure that means something. That said, I would like to talk about the beauty I see in God's plan that would be irreconcilable with Calvinism.

Deuteronomy 16:16-17

Three times a year all your men must appear before the LORD your God at the place he will choose: at the Feast of Unleavened Bread, the Feast of Weeks and the Feast of Tabernacles. No man should appear before the LORD empty-handed: Each of you must bring a gift in proportion to the way the LORD your God has blessed you.

What do you get for the guy who has everything? This is not an uncommon question. The first time I recall hearing it was from an episode of Family Matters, and if it's being used in sitcoms from the 80's, you know it's commonplace. But the reason I recall that instance was that it was a Christmas episode and an angel was using it in reference of gift shopping for God. It was a quick laugh at the time but that has stuck with me all the same. It remains a pertinent question: what can I possibly give to the One who made all things.

I came across this text in my readings and it just stuck out. Let me tell you, reading through the Pentateuch has not often been the most fertile ground for me and yet this time around, things are popping up, connections are being made, for which I praise God. Ideas just get stuck in my head, this as example: no man should appear before the LORD empty-handed. And so I've been thinking about this a bit. Here's what I have.

What do you give to the God who has everything? What He asks for. For Israel that meant the Levitical system, adherence to the covenant. This was tied principally to the sacrificial system. And yet, what does David say:

Psalm 40:6-8

Sacrifice and offering you did not desire,
       but my ears you have pierced;
       burnt offerings and sin offerings
       you did not require.

Then I said, "Here I am, I have come—
it is written about me in the scroll.

I desire to do your will, O my God;
your law is within my heart."

And again, in Psalm 51, repenting of Bathsheba:

Psalm 51:16-17

You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it;
you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart,
O God, you will not despise.

So what do you give? What do you have to give? Exactly what He gave us to give Him: a will submitted to His own. This is what Jesus patterned for us in His own life, illustrated perfectly in Gethsemane. It was not that Jesus had no options; that He could not have said no. It was that the cry of His heart to seek the will of His Father, more than His pleasure, more than His comfort, more than His life. To take away free, independent will is to take away a profoundly beautiful scene; to turn Gethsemane into an act instead of an example of precisely the relationship that our Father calls us into.

Lewis tells a story called sixpence none the richer. I will not be able to do it justice but I will sum it up: A child wants to get a present for his dad so he asks his dad for some money. The dad gives him said money, just pocket change, gets the gift and gives it to the dad. Now, as the title itself says, the father is not enriched in the slightest by the gift and yet he loves it. Why? Because he receives, through the giving of the gift, the love of his son.

I find it hard to describe how even relating that story moves me. That the God of the universe cares in the slightest what I do, let alone is active in drawing me in to a deeper relationship with Him when all I deserve is rejection, scorn, and death. That He cares about this little blog and my feeble attempts to grasp who He is. He is not enriched in the slightest and yet His glory is revealed in and through my life. And He loves it when I give Him a present that He paid for with His Son.

There is this quote from a monk whose name I can't recall. It goes something like this:

I do not know if what I do pleases You. And yet I hope that my desire to please You, pleases You.

Father, glorify Your Name!

On why I am not a Calvinist (Part 1?)

2010-02-25T22:28:00.001-08:00

So, I was chatting with my cousins (technically my cousin and her husband but I digress) after community group about Calvinism and why I am not a fan (it was a lengthy conversation and I'm not sure how we got on to it; no seriously, I know I dog Calvinism a lot but I don't know how this particular conversation started). My cousins are going to this new, Acts 29 church and Acts 29, as an organization, is very heavily Calvinistic. I don't think my cousins had been Calvinist before this church but they would have been listening to Chandler and Driscoll for at least a year so who knows. In any event, I disagree and we hashed it out with no decisions made and that is perfectly okay for an opening salvo. But I wanted to put out what I think is the strongest philosophical argument against Calvinism. Actually, that's not true. I was thinking about the discussion as I was walking back to my car and this argument nailed me with all the force of why I don't think I ever could believe in Calvinism.

When I first started listening to Chandler and Driscoll, I found them to make a whole lot of sense. They are both clearly gifted preachers who love God, Scripture, the Church global, and their local congregations. I was being moved spiritually; I was experiencing depths of grace that I had only heard of before; and was generally improving and maturing in all areas of my life. And as they preach, Calvinism is trickling through their preaching. Now, I don't mean to say that Calvinism is evil or insidious. But I do believe that it is wrong and that the natural outworking of the Calvinist worldview is Hyper-Calvinism. I don't think I will ever forget Driscoll's narrative about Calvinism, which in brief is as follow: his daughter, in disobedience to his will, was running toward the street where she would have been run over; election is like when Driscoll reached out his hand to pull his disobedient daughter back from death. It is a good illustration and he tells it well. Here is my counter.

I have an adopted sister. She is by blood my cousin, the daughter of my father's sister. She was horribly abused as a child and as such, even though she was raised by my parents from about five till adulthood, she was always at odds with them. She was disobedient and manipulative every day of her time at my parents' home. But they didn't kick her out or disown her, even when keeping her has meant pain for them as well as embarrassment. And when I first started to give Calvinism thought, my sister not being in the elect was the perfect explanation. But here is what that would practically mean. The love my parents have shown to my sister is wonderful because despite her responses, they loved her. But if my parents had in their possession a pill that would cause my sister to reciprocate, to be able to build healthy relationships and mature; if my parents had had that pill the entire time she was with them and withheld it, purposefully, all the love they had showered on her would not be wonderful or glorious but exceedingly cruel. And it would be even worse if she would one day receive that pill but only after it was too late to have any kind of relationship with them. This is the other side of Calvinism, the daughter who is equally in sin and equally in need of saving but is not. It does not matter what the reason for not saving is and you cannot argue that God so loved the world if Calvinism is true. Period.

To Live is Christ

2009-08-20T16:01:00.001-07:00

Here is a post based on a devotional I did a couple weeks ago. I hope it blesses you.
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I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me.

Philippians 1:20-22a

I imagine that most Christians have heard this text a few times in their life. But if we are honest with ourselves, I don't think that is how we live or even how we want to live. It was about this time last year that hurricane Ike swept through Houston leaving power out for many for a week or more. By day five, I was seriously contemplating the whole Tower of Babel concept. I like creature comforts. Video games, TV, Internet, AC. I can live without them but there is a reason I don't go camping. For me, and I think American Christians on the whole, it can be so easy to get caught up in our things.

The average American Christian sees the Christian life as being a good person, go to church, and raise good kids. None of that is bad but it makes life so small and so safe. This is not the life that the early Church was called to and it is certainly not the pattern Christ set for us. In fact, when Jesus was tempted by Satan himself all of the temptations were to make Christ's life easier. Turning the stone into bread was a life of luxury, a life without need. Jumping off the temple was a life of invulnerability, a life without pain. And bowing to Satan was a life of fame, a life without anonymity. Christ turned away from all of this, even though He deserved all of those things. Instead of luxury, Jesus dies poor with even the few possessions He had being taken from Him. Instead of invulnerability, Jesus was beaten and died the most painful of all deaths. And instead of fame, He died abandoned by His friends and mocked by the lowest common denominator. All that Satan offered to Jesus were things that He had possessed in Heaven. It is not that Satan tempted Jesus with bad things but with bad timing, to seek paradise on earth. To seek Jesus' comfort over God's will. Instead, Jesus sought the will of His Father above His own life so that we might be saved and God would be glorified.

And this is what it means when we say to live is Christ: to pursue the will of God with single-minded purpose. Again, if I am honest, I would have to say that my pursuit is seldom single-minded. What holds me back, same as you, is sin. Whether it is ours or another's, we can neither receive nor grant forgiveness. The pain or the guilt seems too great. Ultimately, it comes from our lack of belief that Jesus is big enough to deal with our sins, or that the problem is too small or insignificant for Him to care. And yet the God we serve is He who knows both the number of stars in the sky and the number of hairs on your head for He made them both. The Creator of all things, who knows all things, chose you and me and He did it with full knowledge of who we are.

Here is this huge thing that we miss about Jesus and the cross, mainly because we know how the story ends. The cross is the most painful and despised death in human history and it was reserved for only the worst offenders. For the Jews, it signified being cursed by God. By any standard of the ancient world, the cross meant defeat. This is why Peter, while being used by Satan, spoke out against Jesus when Jesus spoke of the death He would die. For Peter and the others, any work Christ would attempt would be undone by the cross. And yet, God turned the worst possible defeat into the greatest victory, to the point that the cross is always the center of the gospel. And this is what the God we serve has always done and continues to do: He turns our biggest weakness or shame or defeat or sin, by His redemptive work, into an example of His grace. Abraham, childless till his late nineties, is known as a father of nations. Moses, having a speech impediment, spoke for God to Israel. Gideon, a coward, was called a mighty warrior and led 300 against hundreds of thousands. David committed adultery and murdered to cover it up. Elijah ran away in fear of Jezebel. Peter denied Christ, himself. Paul persecuted the Church. And the list goes on and continues to grow because this is what our God does and He is very good at it.

And so, with a God who is so much greater than we can fathom, how can we remain quiet about Him? There is work to be done, to proclaim the gospel and encourage the brethren. There is no retirement plan, at least not this side of Heaven. But one day, we will walk golden streets with those who have gone before us. And there, we will get to see Him whom we love face to face and hear Him say those words I long to hear: "Well done, you good and faithful servant." And we really will rest with Him forever.

Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 3:13 & 14

Purpose and Practice

2009-08-03T17:09:00.001-07:00

Well, my month of mourning is done. Time to get back on the stick. Here is the question that I am dealing with: what am I going to do with the rest of my life?

The first part of the question deals with purpose. I went to Temple to help start a church and that went belly up in less than six months. I don't regret that decision but I am still a little gun shy, I guess. I mean that I still want to serve God by building up the Church universal but I don't know how to go about it. If I didn't have to worry about the lease in Temple, I would see about joining up with a church planting organization. As it stands right now, I have no idea what is next. I think I can be okay with that, it just means that now is a time to prepare for whatever comes next. Time for spiritual and physical self-discipline.

The second part of the question deals with practicality. I need money to survive so that I can serve. And I just don't see myself getting a career that is not in ministry. Frankly, I don't do well in jobs I don't care about and I find it harder and harder to care about any job that isn't directly ministry. But a funny thing did happen to me, in that Holy Spirit sort of way. I typed in a Google search, asking God what job He wanted me to have. And the first item on the list was about monetizing my blog, among other things. So, before this month is through, I am going to get my own blog address and see what there is to see. I'll post an update with the new address when that is ready. In the mean time, I'll have to make money more traditionally. We'll see what I can scrounge up.

I am 28, single, and back living with my parents. A year from now, I have no idea where I might be. But if 27 was any indication, it should be a wild ride. I hope it will be interesting to the audience, too. But mostly, I hope to serve You well.

The Short Version

2009-07-22T19:35:00.000-07:00

It has been two months since my last post. Though I have written things in that time and am in the process of writing more, there has been no utilization of this blog. So, I might as well put up an update:

My car broke down. I was on my way to Abilene when my car overheated without warning. Unfortunately I was on the road and needed to get back to town. So my radiator was totally busted (which turned out to be not that big of a deal) but the heat caused damage to my engine. My brother's brother-in-law is working on it but for now I am sans ride.

I called my friend a false teacher. In case someone is reading this and is not a Christian, what that means is I said that he was worse than a non-believer. So yeah, we're not hanging out anymore. For the record, the teaching which he promotes is a false gospel and not a mere difference of opinion. But yeah, for my birthday I got to see a friendship of nearly 10 years die.

I turned 28. Almost thirty. I feel like I should be mature and responsible. Not so much.

I moved back to Houston. I was delivering pizza and helping my buddy with his church. With those two things gone, there was not much to keep me in Temple.

So yeah, busy. Also, those events happened, from start to finish, in a little less then 2 weeks. Only 14 days for my life to disassemble. I hurt still and am waiting to see what God has in plan next. My mentor said something to the effect that when God removes one thing it is to replace it with something better. I don't know what that will be but I do want to find out, and soon.

Unless its patience.

Seeing the Whole Board

2009-05-21T19:50:00.001-07:00

I remember watching this episode of the West Wing (over which I will probably still get grief from my very conservative father; Dad, it didn't turn me into a liberal, I promise) and the president and Rob Lowe's character were playing chess. And Sheen kept reminding Lowe to look at the whole board. It has stayed with me because I like to think strategically. What action will lead to the greatest good for the most people. And by and large I do okay, unless I am under quite a bit of stress or I think I have seen the task I need to complete to finish my larger plan. Case in point: when I was a kid, 12 or so, I was playing against my cousin in a game of Connect Four. We were several rounds in and then I saw it, the series of moves I needed to make to win. So I went after it with reckless abandon, and very quickly lost. While I went with a slow, sneaky route to victory, my cousin, seeing my distraction, went for a more direct path. That surety of victory replaced with the reality of defeat has stayed with me over 15 years because it reminds me of just how focused I can become on whatever it is. Then I stop looking at the whole board. Kind of like this last week.

I was in quite a bit of a funk this last week, mostly on Tuesday and Wednesday but a little for the rest of the week and on into this one as well. I didn't really think about what might be the underlying cause. I had some trouble with lust on Tuesday and I just wouldn't let go of the guilt or shame. I wasn't accepting the grace of God, even though I know better than to reject it. It doesn't serve Him to beat myself up or help me to avoid failure in the future. It's pretty meaningless. But the funk remained. And it didn't come together for me until Wednesday night what was going on. Hank had a meeting with the elders of our church Wednesday night about the direction of the congregation and his vision for it. It was one of those meetings that could well determine the future of our church for the long term, as well as what tasks we have before us in the short term. And even with knowing that this meeting was going to happen, even with knowing what is at stake, it didn't occur to me that I might face spiritual oppression leading up to it. And not just me but our whole crew. I forget about the reality of spiritual warfare. I stop looking at the whole board.

I was listening to John Piper this last week ad he was talking about prayer. He used the analogy that prayer is like a war-time walkie-talkie. He went on to say that the reason we have so much trouble with prayer is that we use it as if it were an intercom to get the attention of our servant. This just makes sense for the Christian. The Christian longs for Heaven, to see Jesus face to face, no more pain, no more tears, just unending joy and fellowship. Yet we are still on Earth, and with that being the case there must be a good reason why God has not called us home yet. And that must be to serve Him, to share His love and His grace to a world that is dying. And we will need His power to do it. So prayer is us on Earth radioing into Home Base for new orders or back-up or a resupply. It's not us asking for things to make us comfortable but that which makes us combat ready.

Even though I remained oblivious to what is now very obviously a spiritual attack, I was useful, for which I praise God. Nor do I think missing such attacks would make one useless. The issue is that if you are a soldier and you start taking fire, if you ignore it you will get shot. And I took more than a few hits because of my lack of awareness. All of that is to say, Lord, teach me to be more observant and to pray more in whatever circumstances I find myself in. I need Your wisdom and Your power so I can fight well, so I can bring glory to Your Name. May Your Name be exalted in my life.

Inner Battles

2009-05-07T23:05:00.001-07:00

"We are the middle children of history, with no purpose or place. We have no great war, or great depression. The great war is a spiritual war. The great depression is our lives." –Tyler Durden, Fight Club.

So, I was watching Fight Club with my friends the other night. It remains probably the most quotable movie of my generation. But I noticed something last night that I had not noticed previously. There is about a 5 minute stretch with humping sounds in the background. This was strange to me because I forgot about it. I remembered the brief sex scene, but not that. Which just reminds me how desensitized I became while looking at porn. Also, I was watching with a mixed crowd, which always makes such things more awkward, at least for me. But all that is mostly a side note. Here's the real deal: I increasingly wanted to get drunk and get in a fight. And I don't fight. Or drink.

So, after we stopped for the night, I went for a walk so I could think and pray. Not to calm down, because I wasn't mad. It felt like there were embers in my belly that needed just a little fuel to become a fire. And I needed that fire; I just didn't know what for. Here is what I learned:

I have always been afraid of a fight, but not simply because I am afraid to get hurt. I am 6'4" and about 285 pounds. Suffice it to say, I have always been big for my age. And I have, for as long as I can remember, been afraid to hurt others. It's strange, because I see that same fear in my friends' kids. They aren't worried about hurting kids bigger than themselves but they are for the smaller ones. And I am surrounded by those smaller than myself. What if I break them?

What that has resulted in is a subconscious desire to weaken myself so I would be easier to restrain. So I didn't drink or smoke or curse, I never made myself stronger, and I did everything I could to not be intimidating. And this is not the only reason I avoided things but the more I look at it the more I see it as the underlying reason. Now, I'm not saying any of this is evil or wrong, but what it is for me is refusing to grow because I don't want the added responsibility that being stronger would mean. Because what if I fail? What if I break someone?

Now, it's been a few weeks since that night and here are some things that have happened since then: I have been trying alcohol. I have sampled a few beers and a Crown Royal my brother got for me years ago and I tried a cigar. So far, they have not been to my taste. And if the end result is that I try these things and nothing is to my liking, I can live with that. If I stick with root beer instead of real beer, it won't be out of fear but preference. But here is what I did not expect, and that is that I am not as afraid of heights anymore. I was hanging out with my friends last Saturday and saw a ledge to jump off of that was probably ten feet off the ground. So I jumped it. And it was fun. I was walking over a bridge that was at least 30 feet off the ground and I looked over at the ground. And it was okay. And just in general, I am less afraid because I don't have to fear myself; I just have to trust God. Trust Him that He will keep me in check but also that He is actually bringing about all things for the good of those who love Him. And Lord, you know I love You, and I am so grateful that You love me and are teaching me to love You better and better. It's a good life. Let us press on.

The Thief on the Cross

2009-04-28T16:04:00.001-07:00

Not much to do, hanging there. The pain of it makes minutes into hours. The insults of the crowd don't help much. As if the pain, as if the price of my life weren't enough. So I take what shots I can. I have never been a man of words, certainly no poet or philosopher. But right now curses flow from my lips like water down a stream. Any fool who gets close enough gets dowsed by a different fluid. Just trying to cool off some hot heads.

I listen to the others with me, too. The guy on the far side gives as good as he gets. But the one in the center stays pretty quiet. I know some folks aren't too chatty because of the pain. But I don't hear him sobbing either. Breathing hard when he can. Gasping for breath on occasion. So when he does open his mouth, I listen:

"Forgive them, they know not what they do."

Forgive them? Them? "You're the one on the cross, buddy." No reply.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

For all of the people who pass by the spectacle which is a crucifixion, you don't see a whole lot of acquaintances to the soon-to-be deceased. I look anyway. No family in town, not that they would be here even if they were local. A few friends, though friends like mine probably wouldn't want to hang around with so many soldiers. But I keep looking, hoping someone will want to say goodbye. What else is there to do?

As I'm looking, I see a group work its way to the front. It's an odd group, certainly for the occasion. It's mostly women, and old women at that. You don't see women at a crucifixion. It doesn't happen. They may pass by on the way to wherever they're going, but they don't linger, certainly not in groups, and definitely not at the front.

They reach the front of the mob, right by the center cross. And they just stand there, weeping. It's not too long after they start that I hear the man in the middle say, "Dear woman, here is your son." Then, a little pause. "Here is your mother." He spoke clearly, though tired. And he spoke with compassion, as though their pain was greater than his own.

After he spoke I saw the man with them, pretty young, turn to the woman crying the most. She must have been center guy's mom. I wonder if my Mom will shed any tears for me. I wonder if she'll ever find out. Anyway, the old woman turned to the young man and seemed to nearly collapse onto him.

The group stayed a bit longer but then the young man started to lead them away. I think the man in the center motioned for him to do so because the young man gave a little nod. So away they went, at least to the back. But I don't think much could have dragged them away from this scene. And I started to ask myself, "What is so special about this man?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

And then I heard a name: Jesus. And I remembered a day many months ago. I was in a large crowd, so large people were getting trampled on. My kind of crowd. It is hard to notice someone reaching for your pouch when five other people are already pressing into you. I didn't even know why the crowd had gathered, not until I heard Him. "Be on your guard," were the first words out of His mouth. I would have run right then if there had been any room to do so. Suffice it to say, He had my attention.

He spoke about avoiding hypocrisy and that all our actions would be revealed. Wish I had paid more attention then or I might not be hanging here right now. And then He said not to fear those who can kill you but He who can throw you into Hell. And He spoke about our lives having value in the eyes of God. And then, He said, "I tell you, whoever acknowledges me before men, the Son of Man will also acknowledge him before the angels of God." And for a moment, even through the crowd, I could swear He was looking right at me. But then the moment passed.

The Man spoke some more and I listened a little. As the crowd dispersed, they called Him Jesus. I've tried to forget Him, everything He said. That look. I didn't make much that day anyway. And now, here I am, all of five feet from Him. And even now, at the very end, my life still has value to Him. What kind of man forgives those who mock and kill Him? I've never met the like, but surely no one who deserves to die, surely not like this. They called Him the King of the Jews. Maybe they were right.

As I am thinking about all this, the guy on the right chimes in again. He heckles Jesus, saying, "Aren't you the Christ? Save yourself and us!" And then I surprise myself: "Don't you fear God, since we are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong." It all just flowed out. And as I paused to think about what I had just said, I believed every word. And I knew what I had to ask for next. "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." And it was quiet for just a moment but that moment seemed to stretch on forever. And finally, He answered, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise." And then it gets dark.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I'm not too old, but old enough to have seen some strange weather: fierce wind and rain; thunder and lightning; the roof torn off one house while the house next door is fine; clouds so thick they look like the gates of heaven. But I have never seen anything like this. It was a clear day, no clouds, a little wind. And I blinked. I closed my eyes to blue skies and opened them to pitch black. It wasn't like night. There was no moon, no city lights. It was so surprising that out of reflex I tried to rub my eyes. I couldn't reach them, of course.

At first, some of the people thought it was an eclipse. But a minute passed, then two, then ten, and still no light. Some of the soldiers, after the shock wore off, tried to light torches. And it looked like the light was being sucked into the darkness. It was eerie and quiet, broken only by the sounds of our breathing. And the sounds Jesus was making. I don't know that I could describe it. He had been tired before, but now it was like He was burdened, deeply so. He had been sad before but now it was as if He were in the greatest anguish a man could know. It was almost as if He had lost the best thing He ever had and was given the worst thing He could ever imagine. And it was like this for hours. To hear such sounds…no one spoke. Everyone there just bore silent witness. Finally, Jesus spoke, loud and clear, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." And just like that, Jesus died.

It was quiet again. A centurion broke the silence: "Surely, he was a righteous man." I don't say anything, don't even nod my head. What more could I add to what I have just witnessed? The crowd started to disperse, beating their breasts as they went. They came for a spectacle and they certainly got it, just not what they expected. They didn't care to ridicule anyone anymore today, to see anyone else die. Not everyone left, though. I could see that Jesus' friends were still off at a distance. Even now, they couldn't let go. I don't blame them a bit. Even though the price I paid was my life to be this close to Jesus, I would pay it again. To have seen Him, to hear Him, to know Him…not even this pain compares. And in my last hours, I keep thinking about the words He told me: "Today you will be with me in paradise." Today. Just a little bit longer. And when I see the soldier come up with the hammer, I know that it is just a little bit longer. And as the life is leaving my body, I feel that it is just a little bit longer.

And then I blink. I close my eyes to a world of darkness, and open them to a world of all-encompassing light. And I feel this weight I never knew I had lifted from my shoulders; I feel His forgiveness, His acceptance into His family. And finally, I see Him. He is no longer a broken and beaten man but a glorified king. No more a man of sorrows but endless joy. And for a moment I know He is looking right at me. And the moment stretches into eternity. And the moment never passes.

I’m Not That Guy

2009-04-25T16:23:00.001-07:00

I was writing a blog post in regards to a viewing of Fight Club and what that revealed about me. And truly, I will post that soon. But events have occurred which must be transcribed. And so, here we go:

I believe it was the second week I was in Temple that I met Trey (ah, the joy of coming up with names to protect the innocent; soon I am going to have to make a cheat sheet for myself). He works at a nearby eatery that has free wi-fi and is a regular haunt for ministers. Comfortable chairs, nice atmosphere, good snacks, and no one will bother you; perfect for someone needing to prepare a lesson or a sermon. Hank and I went there so he could study and I could use the internets unhindered (well, not counting X3Watch, which I highly recommend; free internet accountability software is ftw). As we were browsing online, Trey and his boss were trying to move something rather heavy. Hank and I helped and Trey found this to be very admirable. He sees a lot of ministers at work and few of them would have offered to help as Hank had. It made a pretty big impression on him. So when I came by myself the next week, we talked a bit and became friends. This is in itself strange but I will come back to that.

As it happened, Trey was in the midst of getting an outreach program for veterans underway. Yeah, isn't that suspicious timing. So we go grab some lunch a few days later and then go to a research meeting for his project. The meeting goes well, extremely well in truth and I even had some useful contributions. Go figure. He then snags my resume because he has a lot of contacts in the area and he might be able to find me something. And he does at that, a very nice gig for UMHB, for which I was and am very appreciative. But I thought about it and prayed about it and full time work would not allow me the flexibility to minister that I have with my current part-time job. So I thanked him for his help but hadn't talked to him in a couple weeks.

This week, I heard that his job had closed its doors. So I called him to see if he wanted to have lunch this week, which we did today. And I find out that there is a dispute with the owners over some supposed debt but also that someone wanted to turn the place into a hookah bar. At this I was intrigued because Hank and Halley have been talking about opening a hookah bar since I got here. The thing is that the place is designed to be a ministry as well as a business and so the owners want the place to have a certain feel. So I got to talk to Trey about the gospel and the implications, a little bit about missional living and Christianity versus religion, and about hookah and how there is no place to do anything legal in the Temple area after 11 pm. And it was a good conversation. Trey told me about how he had been burned by Christians (for which I apologized) but how guys like me give him hope (for which I thanked him). And I got to invite him to my Monday Night Bible Study, which I have been toying around with for awhile and this was just the kick I needed. He's even coming to church on Sunday, which will hopefully go well.

All of that is to say this: I am not that guy. I don't say this to be humble or to dismiss my gifts. I'm saying this because I have lived with me. When I say I am anti-social it is because I am, or at least I was. When I say that now to people who have only known me for a couple months, they look at me like I am speaking Swahili. Now, apparently, I am making friends with strangers, sharing the gospel, trying things I used to shun, meeting people that before I would have said I have nothing in common with. This is my life now and I have no idea where it is headed. But thank You, Jesus, that I get to live it for Your glory.

Peter on Easter Morning

2009-04-13T17:15:00.001-07:00

"Do this in remembrance of me."

He said those words only a few days ago. He held the bread and the wine and made them significant. His life poured out, His body broken. And He said to remember. Now, I'll never forget.

It wasn't long after that He took us to the garden and asked us to pray for Him. I didn't know why. It was the Passover, the third one we had shared. He'd been looking to the future, speaking about His death. But surely that was still a ways off. He hadn't even begun to deal with the Romans. The only people mad at Him were some of the Jews, Pharisees and leaders. Surely they wouldn't do anything to Him, not during the Passover? I didn't feel the urgency of it at all. Even when He pleaded with us to stay alert and pray, I couldn't keep my eyes open. "Simon…could you not keep watch for one hour." My first failure. If only that had been my greatest.

"Do this in remembrance of me."

It's Sunday morning, early. None of us have been sleeping well. Haunted by the last time we saw Him, our leader, our teacher. There is not much to eat but no one is particularly hungry. Just some left over bread and wine. No one has much to say, just the occasional glance at each other. And the two seats left empty.

When I saw Judas come up, I was surprised. My thoughts were still a little hazy from sleepiness. I didn't know where he had gone. I didn't know that he had gone. But I looked over at Jesus and he wasn't surprised at all…just sad. No, not sad…disappointed. And then there were soldiers and I wasn't sleepy anymore. We scattered, but I stayed nearby along with John. Part of me wishes we hadn't.

"Do this in remembrance of me."

John looks at me, like he is about to say something. Not for the first time. Everyone keeps waiting for me to lead, to give a speech, to do something, anything. But I don't have anything to say. I just keep waiting. And thinking.

John and I followed as close as we dared to see where the soldiers would take Him. As I went inside the courtyard, I was asked, "Are you one of His disciples?" Such a simple question. Just a few hours earlier, I would have puffed up my chest and answered with pride. But I was so scared. I just shrugged and mumbled no. But that didn't settle it. Another person asked, so I told him, "You've got the wrong guy." And then one more, till I cursed and screamed, "I don't know Him!" And then the rooster crowed and Jesus looked right at me. Even with the scream, He was too far away to have heard me. But He knew. The shame was too much for me. So I ran. And I wept.

"Do this in remembrance of me."

I've stopped weeping, but it feels like I'm still running. Or at least waiting to run again. Eventually, the Pharisees will look for us. Eventually, we will all have to get out of Jerusalem. We all know it. And everyone is waiting for me to say it's time. No one pressed yesterday, because of the Sabbath. Strange to care about that still. I betrayed my friend. What would God want to have to do with me now?

I wasn't there when He was found guilty, when he was beaten nearly to death. I wasn't there to cry for His release instead of Barabbas or to help Him carry that cross he bore on His bloodied back. I wasn't there to see Him suffer on that cross. I wasn't there to see Him die. I wasn't there.

But I saw the sky darken for three hours and I heard about the curtain in the temple being torn. And so I wait, but I don't know why.

Until the door flies open:

"The Tomb is empty! Jesus is risen!"

"What? Empty? Risen? Oh. Oh!"

And then I remembered. I remembered that He said He would suffer. He said he would be rejected. That He would die. And that He would rise.

And so I rose. And I ran. I ran as hard and as fast as I could to the tomb. I had to see it. I had to see Him. And the stone was rolled away. And the linens were empty. The Tomb is empty. My Lord is Risen.

What Happened This Week…or Why I Haven’t Written Anything

2009-04-06T08:28:00.001-07:00

So, I have been a little busy this week, which is why I have no little story for you, my avid readers (all three of you). Here is a little break down:

Sunday:

All day hilarity. My youth minister friend, who I will call Hank, was preaching for the first time since college, I think. Twice, no less, one for the church and one for a youth rally. So church went well. Well, mostly. I work the slides and one of the youths was the worship leader that day. He does wonderful work and I think it is fair to say that he is gifted. However, he doesn't stay on script all the time, or even most of the time. This is fine for the congregation because he is really in to it and so they follow suit. But for me, who has all the slides lined up, well…it makes me look like a fool! That's fine. The youth group had a fundraiser lunch for a summer event. Tacos FTW. Went home, read a little, then went back to church to go with the youths to hear my buddy preach again. Both sermons went well. He has a little to learn but I think that has more to do with growing comfortable with preaching. The best preachers are themselves at the pulpit. His theology is solid, he loves Jesus and preaches Him, and he listens to a ton of preaching as well as being naturally a good communicator. We went out to eat afterwards, lots of fun. Went home and slept.

Monday:

Not a lot happened on Monday. Filled out an application for a pizza delivery job, checked on prices to get my car worked on, and screwed around on YouTube. A little reading, a little sorting and cleaning, and then sleep.

Tuesday:

I listened to Mark Driscoll's sermon on Men and Marriage from a couple Sundays ago and got owned in the face. Short version is that I have lived as a coward, and truly I still struggle with it, as you will see below. On the plus side, Jesus loves me and is working on me. Hooray! I then started my new project: praying for Temple College. I wandered the campus for an hour, praying over buildings and any people I saw. I thought about implementing stage two, which was to ask the staff if they need help with anything, along with anybody else who looked like they could use a hand. However, I wussed out. Next was an interview for the pizza delivery job. I will start next week. It's not much but then I don't need much and it leaves my schedule available to be of service in whatever way God leads me. Then I went over to Hank's house and helped with some cleanup in prep for a baby shower his wife (who I will call Hally) was throwing today (or Saturday, since I didn't post it right away). Then went and helped my neighbor with some grounds keeping work at his church. We mowed the lawn and watered the lawn and plants. He gave me $40 for two hours work (I told him it was only an hour and a half but he wouldn't have it). I would have done it for free but all the same, it is appreciated. Read, sleep, repeat.

Wednesday:

Implemented stage two for Temple College, with some intriguing results. As it happened, the college was having its Spring Fling. Lots of food and activities as well as a live band. I took a look and then went on and prayed and read the Bible a bit. I thought about checking if anybody needed help there but wussed out again. So I went across campus to the Administration building and started asking there. Well, one of the staff was a Christian and she suggested that I go see if they needed any help with the cleanup of Spring Fling. I said I would check it out, all the while thinking "Okay, God, I get it." So I head back across campus, ask a few people, and someone bites. A couple student organizations had teamed up to raise money for a potential homeless shelter, along with the start of a clothing drive. So I helped them cleanup and then we went to go set up boxes for the clothing drive. It was a bizarre experience. The group was made up of a white guy who had started and organization called Students Improving Lives Together (SILT); a black and extremely gay guy who was with True Colors, which is connected to the Gay, Straight, and Lesbian Alliance; and a white girl, and I'm not sure which organization she was a part of. Pretty diverse and I didn't really think I would meet any students so soon. The conversation at first was pretty standard banter for the first hour or so and then turned extremely sexual for the last hour. And the two guys were both Christians. Welcome to TC and to the Bible Belt.

Finished up there then went over to my buddy's house for a little more cleaning before heading to church. I sat in with the youth group (I'm kind of like a de facto intern for Hank and Hally, which is fine by me). The lesson was from James and we talked about what is holding us back from God, what things we weren't giving up. I said fear, which is true. What was strange is that when it came time to pray, I was the last person, and I was just nailed. I was crying, which usually happens when the Holy Spirit was on me. I said, "I am a coward and I'm awkward, and I don't know why because I have seen how awesome You are. Lord, if I am left sitting in the ashes of my life, I want to find joy because I have You." I meant every word, but I am rarely that honest, let alone with teenagers. But the teens really seemed to connect; a couple were even encouraged. Yea, Holy Spirit! Went back to Hank's and painted a little. Went home and slept.

Thursday:

Went to TC, read and prayed. The prayer lasted longer than expected, which I found strange. Went to check if one person was in but she was out that day. As I am about to leave, I bump into the guys from the other day. They are about to gather up the first load of clothes and take them to the Salvation Army. I help them count the clothes and then we load them in my car. The white guy and his sister ride in his car while the black guy and I follow along. I chat a little with my passenger, nothing big. We drop off the clothes (where I found a decent microwave for $10) and then look at a possible location for the shelter. There is an abandoned nursing home by the school that would work nicely but the price is $900,000. We'll see what happens.

Went from there to the church building to meet Hank and our other friend. We then had a two hour debate on the future of the church. They had talked about an idea earlier in the week and were telling me about it. I was pretty adamantly against it because of some of the implications. So we hashed it out and made our cases. The debate ended on the up and up and I think I got my points across as well as listened to theirs because the following day we were pretty well on the same page (I know I am skipping ahead…sorry). Kept an eye on my buddy's kids so he could take a nap and his wife could read and clean before life group at their house. Their kids are pretty awesome and we had a nice time. Had life group, went home, and then tried to sleep for several hours. I was bugged by church things, mostly the lack of spiritual maturity, but I eventually nodded off.

Friday:

Got up before 8 am, which is weird for me. Went to TC, read and prayed. I went to some other offices scattered around campus. No help needed but the people seemed to appreciate it, even though it surprised them. Not an unusual reaction. What was strange is that one woman wanted me to stop asking. She said, "I don't think we can take solicitations here." "But I don't want a job, I just want to help," I replied. "I know, but still." "Well, okay." Apparently she was so disturbed by a Christian wanting to help at random, just out of a desire to serve, that she shut me out. I know I am a big guy and all, but all the same, it was odd. I did, however, get to pray for one very nice lady as well as have a conversation about John's relationship to Jesus (short story, Jesus is the best youth minister, ever). So, all in all, I count it as a win.

Went back to apartments to grab a shovel from my neighbor and took his battery to Auto Zone. Then I went to my buddy's for more baby shower prep. Dug up some shrub stumps, ran a few errands. My friend asked why I was helping him so much. That question worried me. I find most ministers feel that they are not entitled to the same grace that they offer. I asked him, "Who ministers to you?" "No one." "Well, I'm here to help, and frankly, you are awful at asking for help." He'll work on that.

Then I went home. I had an interesting conversation with one of my older neighbors. Apparently multiple people in the complex think I am a minister. Not exactly, in that it is not my profession, just my life. Anyway, he asked how long I had been in ministry. So I told him a little about my life, school and working for my Dad and struggling with pornography (actually, struggling is the wrong word; failing would be more accurate), and I was about to tell him what God was bringing about in my life when he asked why I looked at porn. The simple answer is that it was easy, which is no excuse. Sin is sin, no doubt about it. So he was talking to me about that and that it would affect my ministry and that lust was the real issue, at least in his own sort of folksy way. I didn't disagree with him, partly because he wasn't entirely wrong and partly because he was older than me, and I am big on respecting my elders. In the end, it wasn't anything I hadn't heard before. But I think he was missing something. Every person mentioned in Scripture has their faults listed out, and they get pretty bad. Peter's betrayal of Jesus and Paul's persecution of the Church come to mind. Why does Scripture mention these failings? Because the plans of God are not dependant on the quality of His servants but on His power and wisdom. In fact, God often picks the worst recruits for His glory. Which is why I have to be honest about my life. Because if God loves a slacker like me, if He is willing to use a former porn-addict in His kingdom, then why not you? Anyway, I listened and then went to my apartment and went to bed, pretty early at that. Long day.

Saturday:

And then there is today. I spent about five and a half hours helping my buddy and his wife get ready for the baby shower. Cleaning some fancy, pink dishes (girls, am a right), sweeping the porch, and cleaning the rooms. No individual task was major, but combined it was quite a bit. Spent the next hour and a half talking with my friend while we watched the guests' children. There weren't a ton but they were rambunctious so we had to stay on our toes. Came home and typed all this. In doing so, I noticed a pattern I had not seen before: every day had cleaning of some sort. I don't know what that means yet but I'll post if I come up with anything. And now, I will read the Bible a bit, play a little Civ 4, and then go to sleep. Sunday is often busy, but it is always interesting. And a new day is a new chance to serve the God I love, the God who loves me better than I have ever loved Him. But He's teaching me.

A Writer’s Dilemma

2009-03-27T13:06:00.003-07:00

So, here is my problem. I'm a writer now, I guess. I have long toyed with the idea. For nearly a decade I have had a handful of stories I wanted to tell, maybe a commentary on Genesis to write, and other assorted items. I always thought some day would come when I would get down to business and actually put pen to paper, or whatever form writing would take by the time I got to it. I'm still hoping for reliable voice-type, if not out and out thought transcription, but that is neither here nor there. Now, God inspires me every day with a new topic, a new idea. And by and large, they are pretty good. But what do I do with them?

At the rate of inspiration to transcription, I should probably have a 100-page book before the end of the year. The real problem is, do I see if I can make any money off this or get a job? To be honest, I wouldn't really know what to do with anything I have written or plan to write. Something to research. For right now, it means I will keep writing and either leaving them on my laptop or posting them here. Suggestions are welcome. And, just so no one feels cheated by my random musing, posted below is a little though about heaven. Please enjoy.

On Beginnings

2009-03-27T13:06:00.001-07:00

I saw a great multitude, of peoples from every tribe, nation, and tongue. They had all gathered in front of a massive wall with an equally massive gate. There was an air of expectancy there but no one was jostling to get the front of the line. All of the people were talking with those around themselves. Many seemed to have met before; others had been separated by location or even time. They shared their stories; some I recognized, many I didn't. And yet, somehow, I heard them all and understood them in my own native tongue. And what I heard was amazing, to great for me to do it justice. But there was this common thread, of tragedy turned to triumph, of personal struggles becoming public edification, of being lost and then being found. And it seemed, somehow, that each story came to a climax at the same time. And though each story was different, the last word was the same, a name that made all the difference.

When that name had finally been uttered, the gate opened, and out came the hero, dressed in dazzling white and…glory? Like He had made a fabric out of splendor. Time flowed strangely again. The King was speaking intimately and personally to everyone, laying out the pattern of their lives in the tapestry of history. I began to recognize people then, though many of whom I did not know before this, and certainly not as they looked now. There are no children there, not exactly. Everyone is healthy and whole and in the prime of life. I see people I know are the great-great grandchildren of babies I know now and also my grandparents an great grandparents and more looking no older than myself. And more generations beside. I see Lewis and Wesley and Augustine and Paul and Peter and Elijah and David and Moses and Abraham and many, many more. And the First and the Last is talking to all of them, telling them all about their lives and what He did with them. And He's pointing to others who are gathered in that throng, telling them that because of their obedience, someone else got to know Him and love Him. And He tells them these words, words they had been waiting for all their lives:

"Well done, my good and faithful servant."

There were some tears then. And the Good Shepherd wiped every one of them away. I knew those would be the last tears that ever saw their cheeks. And again, He was at the gate, with a gleam in His eye and a smile on His face.

"Welcome home. Come on in."

A great cry rung out. As one, the crowd began to run. There was laughter all around and singing like I had never heard before. "Worthy is the Lamb that was Slain," sung in a thousand languages by a billion tongues in a harmony richer than ivory. An orchestra a million strong played a symphony that would have pierced the most jaded heart. It was too great for me and yet it was as if my heart had expanded to experience the joy of it. A day was like a thousand years and a thousand years were like a day and everyone finally understood what predestination was all about.

I watched them all pass into the first day of eternity. But for all I saw, all I could suddenly understand, I had a question:

"Where was I in that group?"

Jesus answered, who had been there all along:

"Oh, you were in there. I didn't want to give you any spoilers."

I get pretty quiet for a minute.

"…So, umm, how did I do?"

He puts a hand on my shoulder, looks me in the eye, and smiles.

"Didn't you hear? You did well."

The Better Man, The Better Me

2009-03-26T13:55:00.000-07:00

The Christian life is one of sacrifice. For many, that sacrifice is done begrudgingly. We fear that we will be less without our things. But what we find is different.

I remember being scared of who I would become without my baggage. It was the summer of ’02 and the church I was interning at was sending me to counseling. I was depressed and one of the members was a psychiatrist, and a good one at that. After a few sessions, I began to see the possibility of being free of so much junk. That frightened me. I was afraid that I would lose those things about myself that I liked, as if somehow they were consequences of my brokenness. But more than that, I was afraid that my family and friends wouldn’t recognize me, wouldn’t accept me, wouldn’t love me. As such, I hung onto my brokenness, to my detriment.

Thankfully, God is good and faithful. He has cleansed me of so much, my lust, my laziness, my loneliness. And here is what I have found. Those things I liked about myself, my humor, my wisdom, my desire to serve, have not diminished in the slightest. In fact, they have grown, along with joy and love. And even things I disliked about myself have taken on new aspects.

I have long felt that my sensitive nature was a liability. I cry pretty regularly. It’s bothersome and not particularly masculine. I have always had me heart on my sleeve, and it has always made me vulnerable. Consequently, that meant I was not very social. The more people around, the more likely you are to get burned. For me, those hurts never healed right. I had hoped that the process of maturing in Christ would mean that I would toughen up some, that things just wouldn’t trouble me as much. Instead, with every step that I take closer to Jesus, my tears increase. They were not tears of pain but of joy. All the same, it bothered me for awhile.

But my thinking has changed lately. In life, you have two kinds of armor: the type where you feel nothing or the type where nothing sticks. I wanted to feel nothing, but that means no pain or joy. But what if, instead of being impervious to pain, I can just give it all to God and let Him take care of it? I still get to feel joy as deeply as possible and I don’t have to hold onto any of the pain. There is risk involved, but now, the tears I cry are not because of slights and rejections from days long past. I cry because my heart is just not big enough for all the joy Jesus keeps heaping upon me, at least not this side of eternity.

It’s like taking your broken bike to our dad. You have had it for awhile and you have grown to like the bell or the cards in the tires. It’s your bike and you couldn’t imagine riding anything else. But the chain keeps slipping, there is rust in portions, and the tires keep losing pressure. You worry that it would be simpler to get a new bike, but even though a new bike might ride better, it wouldn’t be …yours. Instead of the new bike, however, you get your own bike back, and even better than ever. All the things you loved before are still there but sleeker, faster, stronger. And even better things are in store.

A day is coming when even the gifts we have now will pale in comparison. Today, I like what I say or write if it merely resembles what God has put in my heart. First Corinthians, 13:12 puts it this way: Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. What if this applies to gifts as well? One day, the painter will be able to capture the exact image in her head; the singer will hit all his notes and right ever time; the architect, the composer, the writer…we will be creative like Him who created us. And it will be beautiful and He will be pleased. We will serve our Audience of One and we will serve Him well.

Changes

2009-03-19T13:52:00.000-07:00

So I was looking at an unpublished post from last September. It set out some goals for myself for the future. No need to go into everything because there is a reason I didn't post it. But imagine my surprise to find that I have not given up what I set out to do six months ago.

It is very strange to me to have found a level of consistency. Surely, it is not my doing. I have never been one to follow through on my lofty ideals. Every school semester started with setting out to do all the reading and get in shape and maybe learn an instrument. By the third week I'm barely skimming the books, watching TV most of the time, and could barely whistle.

I do not say any of this to say what a slacker I was (though, truly, I was), or how much better I am doing now (though, clearly, I am). I say this to say that Jesus is so much more gracious and good than I thought He was. And if He can use a screw up like me, why not you? If He loves me as greatly as Scripture promises and I have had the joy and privilege to witness, why not you?

Philippians 3:10-14:

¹⁰I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, ¹¹and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.
¹²Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. ¹³Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, ¹⁴I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

Let us press on.

P.S. I edited this post to make it clearer. A new thing to add to my to-do list: work on clarity of thought. Hooray.

So, this is my life now

2009-03-17T13:50:00.000-07:00

So, here is what has been going on in the last week:

Saturday I get the nod to do the communion thought. I end up running with the Quest (it's a very Spirit-filled week long retreat; I highly recommend it) idea of remembering Jesus as a friend and not just thinking about doctrine. So I put that together on Saturday evening and then try to sleep. But I can't because I keep on thinking about grace. It was just a very sweet time with Jesus where I couldn't sleep till after 4:00. But during that I wrote a short story about Heaven which I will post later and the whole process was just incredibly moving. So Sunday comes and I deliver the communion thought, which goes fine. Then we get to talking about Easter and I get an idea for the Easter communion thought, which is also to come. And Sunday night is also pretty fulfilling, submitting my singleness to the Lord and just getting loved on.

Monday comes and I felt the night before that it had been a bit since I fasted with the move and all so I should fast on Monday. I write up the Easter thought on Monday, take care of a few other things, and then feel the need to drive. Temple doesn't have much of anything to do so I'm just driving and looking around and I see a women on the side of the loop, and she looks very distraught. So I pull over onto the shoulder and walk back to check on her, thinking she probably will just need a ride and maybe someone to talk to. It never occurred to me that she might be suicidal. But she was.

We talk for about an hour to an hour and a half about her life and God's faithfulness. She is in the middle of a divorce where it is looking like she will lose her 4 year old daughter to a poser who has been abusing her from day one it sounds like. Well, in any event she calms down, and right when I am about to drive her home, a police officer shows up. Which is crazy because if the officer had shown up even 15 minutes earlier he would have seen her state of mind and the report he would have written would probably have guaranteed that she would have lost her court case. The other great thing about it is that the woman sounds more than a little man crazy and God gave me a very reasonable out so that we would not spend any private time together (and yes, I realize that a "so you want to kill yourself" conversation is personal but cars were driving by the whole time so there is some protection). Which is the other thing. I was completely there in that conversation and a whole lot wiser than I usually am in conversation. This came together in my mind that the two previous nights as well as the desire to fast that day were the Holy Spirit filling me up to minister in a way I never had before.

Yea, Holy Spirit!

So, I call my friend, my mentor, and my Dad, pretty much floored to the point of freaked out at how awesome Jesus is. And then I get the desire to go eat some fast food to celebrate. I was planning on not eating till Tuesday but it felt like the Spirit had done what He had intended and it was a good way to wind down. But the desire as not eat just anywhere, but specifically at Whataburger. So I go and order and as I am waiting for my food, a trucker comes in and orders. I see that he doesn't want any soda so I ask him about that. And that conversation turns into talking about work and life. He is a baby Christian, separate from his wife, learning about Jesus. He was an alcoholic, pretty much forced his wife to leave with their kids. He hit rock bottom and found Jesus there waiting for him. So I got to tell him about what Jesus has been doing for me in this last year, the restoration He has been working in me (overcoming lust and porn and laziness and immaturity), and how He has used me of late, namely with Wendy all of thirty minutes prior. And so, God put a guy from Houston and a guy from Austin in a Whataburger in Temple to mutually encourage each other.

Yea, Holy Spirit!

And, to top the day off, the Psalms I read for the day, 71-75, were aimed right at Wendy, and I had gotten up to the first Worf episode in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Pretty much the craziest, awesomest, best day ever. I wonder how God will top it? I look forward to finding out.

So, here we go:

2008-09-10T16:37:00.000-07:00

Well, this would be the first post of my new blog. Tried it before but I didn't do it for very long because I got all emo. So instead, I will do what my old youth minister recommended and instead just talk about what God is teaching me, primarily through Scripture but also through prayer and walking with Him.

I will begin by explaining why I begin this blog now. God has been heavy on my heart these last few months, convicting me of sin, calling me to repentance and rededication to His work. So I have quit my job (which is not saying much as I worked for my Dad and still live in his house) and am now focusing on studying the Scriptures, prayer, and listening to sermons via podcasts (Alistair Begg, R. C. Sproul, Ravi Zacharias, and lately Mark Driscoll and Matt Chandler). So I hope to soon have something actually worth saying and also that does not blatantly plagiarize any of the ministers just listed or any others. When that happens I'll probably take this post down, but until then, at least this site is not completely empty.

One other minor note before I post this: apparently you have to be a Catholic to join a monastery. I have yet to find a Protestant monastery or even many Orthodox monasteries. In fact the one monastery I found that would allow non-members to go for an extended time turned out to be racked with scandal, resulting in jail time for some and a suicide by one. Very sad, very pointless. I suppose I could explain the nature of this aside. Suffice it to say I wanted to go to a monastery for a year but couldn't find one.