June gloom has it's bright side

It's that time of year...where the world falls in love.... oh wait.

No.

It's that time of year when the sun refuses to shine and it's cloudy all day for weeks on end. On a good day the clouds fade into a heavy haze, which if you look carefully, you might even be able to find a shadow. Not likely though.

But as I'm continually growing, (due to the fact that my wife is one of the most optimistic people I've ever met) and I'm learning how life is better without as much cynicism, I realized today that June gloom does have it's bright sides, especially for the Starbucks driven society that we live in (in which I am a proud member). It's gloomy all day, so naturally one just wants to brew.

Coffee, that is. Maybe it tastes better when it's gloomy. Maybe it's just all in my head. Regardless, there is a bright side to the gloom.

Coffee. I love coffee. And fortunately I have one of those wonderful bodies (yes Mom[s] I know that will someday change) that coffee doesn't seem to have much of an effect on. I can drink coffee all day. I can have a hot cup 'o joe at 10pm and go to bed at 11. I can wake up in the morning and have coffee, coffee, coffee, and not really get the shakes. It's a really nice thing.

I love coffee. Yes, it tastes good, but I think one of the best things about coffee is the conversation. You brew a pot, sit down with a friend, and suddenly you have all the time in the world. After dinner, the tummy is full and the dessert is in front of you, but there's still room for coffee, and hours later the conversation is still flowing. It's a wonderful thing, coffee.

I learned to love it in Costa Rica. And if you would like to sit down over a cup of coffee with me, I'd be happy to tell you that story. It's a good one.

But for now, I'll sit with my cup of coffee in my stolen Talbot mug and be happy with the gloom.

Cheers.

Sometimes I'd rather have a bottle of Port

"I didn’t go to religion to make me happy. I always knew a bottle of Port would do that. If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity." - C.S. Lewis.

I need to first start off by saying this: whatever your goals, tasks, desires, or anything else that you would like to accomplish over the summer...please put 'read The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis' somewhere near the top.

And again, just for emphasis: read The Great Divorce. (It's an afternoon read, 2-3 hours max)

This is a book that definitely made me uncomfortable. My good friend Alex asked after I had finished it, "Did it blow your mind?" The answer is absolutely and unequivocally, yes.

So now that I've picked myself up off the floor I need to write. It's been a while since I've been able to get some thoughts out. With finals and the end of semester and moving and this-that-and-the-other all happening at once, time to blog just didn't make it to the list. Which I'm ok with, only because I feel like I needed the down time to be able to write about this book.

The Great Divorce (something everybody should read) is about the divorce of Heaven and Hell. Lewis writes:

"If we insist on keeping Hell (or even earth) we shall not see Heaven: if we accept Heaven we shall not be able to retain even the smallest and most intimate souvenirs of Hell."

And again, I'm on the floor. The only response to this is to put my face to the floor, arms outstretched, crying, "Abba, Father." At the moment I want to say that I'm left with only questions, but I know that this would be a lie unto myself. I ask, "to what do I cling?" and, uncomfortably, I'm graced with an answer. I ask, "what are my souvenirs?" and I'm able to look around me and point them out.

For those that have not yet read this book may be confused, but the characters are terribly dumb. I say to myself, and my wife can attest to this, that I don't like stupid people. That's sounds terrible at face value, but what I mean by that is: I don't like people that know truth and refuse to accept it (or) people that are too lazy or shy to seek truth. The characters make excuses for why they can't go to the mountains (where the gates of Heaven lay), why they wish to return to Hell, why they insist that what they are seeing isn't there, why this truth is only relative, why they feel they need the illusion of comforts from Hell and not the true comforts of Heaven.

So my own dislike of ignorance has been so polished and refined that it's become the perfect mirror that I see the whites of my own eyes and the hypocrisy of my own heart. I know the truth. I know the sacrifice. I've grown up in the church, I've had many heart-to-heart experiences with God, I've had conversations, read books, taught lessons...and the truth stares me in the face. Yet here I am clinging to illusions, pities, fears, dreams, and decisions that reek with the fragrance of falsity and death.

I'm uncomfortable with this staring me in the face.

What then? What am I to do with this? I know I cling. Sometimes I cling to heavy, thick peices of Hell, and other times I cling to just the smalled shred, soley out of fear. And I hate it because I know I shouldn't; I hate it because I recognize it doesn't have a purpose; I hate it because I'm sitting here categorizing myself with the same people I have such a sadness for. What now?

The answer comes not from how I am able to rid myself of the souvenirs of Hell. Rather, the answer comes from the recognition of my SWAG. I have no more power to let go of Hell than I do to change the weather. I choose not to rid myself of this Hell, but cling with such steadfastness to the joy that is Heaven; there's no way the two can compete or coexhists.

"And yet all loneliness, angers, hatreds, envies, and itchings that [Hell] contains, if rolled into one single experience and put into the scale against the least moment of the joy that is felt by the least in Heaven, would have no weight that could be registered at all. Bad cannot succeed even in being bad as truly as good is good."

The greatest power and truth is Heave: the eternal redemption of my life to Christ. Nothing could even come close to the joy that I experience now. For on this earth amidst the 'loneliness, angers, hatreds, envies, and itchings' that surround my life everyday, the light that peirces all this is Jesus. He has rescued me from this SWAG that sometimes I love to carry around. It's worthless yet I hold some strange affinity to it. I return to this worthless bag and take it with me where ever I go. My prayer is not that I empty the bag. I am not strong enough. My prayer is that I give this Hell in my pocket to the One that can handle it, the One that is stronger.

So while I am terribly uncomfortable, with this Hell whispering in my ear, I still say that this was definitely a book worth reading. It's worth the uncomfort. It's worth the truth. It's worth it because in the end, I find myself in utter depravity, and in that Christ has it all. And knowing that Christ has it all, is where I find joy.

Win, win, win.

If God was Morgan Freeman

It's been a long week. Not like the world is coming to an end, my roof is crashing down, or some catastrophic event. It's just been a long week. The little things that go on have seemed to add up. And now it's Thursday night, The Office is over, the popcorn is eaten and I'm sitting in my chair and honestly I'm a little "meh." 6 hours of sleep and all the little things throughout the week just make a guy feel a little "meh."

Maybe because I just watched the Office or because I was looking at my DVDs and thinking I should really pack them up, but I just keep thinking about Evan Almighty. There's a quote from the end of the movie when Morgan Freeman (God) says to Evan:

If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?

I know that Morgan Freeman, while acting as God in a mediocre movie with a hybrid co-star Michael Scott/Steve Carrol/Evan Baxter, does not qualify as "inspired," but I have to say: there is truth to what he said. It feels like that sentiment really echo's the desires or God for our life.

So throughout this week of the red lights, lost wallets, class registration, brain farts, bad drivers, and late night paper writing, here I am thinking about Evan Almighty. My prayer earlier in the week was to "not sweat the small stuff."

I feel like the kid who touched the oven but can't figure out why his hand hurts like hell.

I really do want to grow and not sweat the small stuff. This week, I failed. I've been reflecting on the "meh", and because of how I was made and what I love to do, I'm all about the causal. Why am I "meh"? Do I feel that way because I was bombarded by small stuff all week and they just got to me...or do I feel that way because I recognize that the small stuff got to me, and the sense of failure makes the "meh"?

I'm a big proponent of growth. And that's true for this case as well. I think throughout the week I was so blinded by the little things that they just added up. The straws built up on my back. And now, when the week is coming to a close and my brain has a little time to breath, the frustration stems from the recognition that I didn't let the little things just blow away. I mean...that was my prayer in the first place, right?

So here I am, tried and failed, and the weekend begins. Luckily, God isn't Morgan Freeman. (Although Morgan Freeman is pretty B.A.) I'll start fresh, with a new prayer of a second chance. And with the power of Jesus, I will get it right this week. "Do, or do not...there is no try." If I told you who that was from, I'd be labeled as an even bigger big fat nerd.

Head Shot

I'm sitting in my living room, which at the moment is a disaster with boxes and cleaning stuff all over, with more homework on my plate than I'd like, but none of that really matters to me tonight. I just want to sit. Or drive. Which actually is a form of sitting. I was hit straight in the head today by mortality, Godliness, temperament, friendships, marriage, and so many heavy handed fists of life. I'm still processing through what it all means for me, but I think the outlet of realizing that it's weighing on me is a good start. In the mean time I'll strive to be thankful for my incredible wife, try not to sweat the small stuff, be available to my friends and family that are in need, and not be too prideful to accept help when I find myself in over my head.

My prayer...

"Jesus, your redeeming power leaves me on my knees in awe. I sit tonight and think about the 'sinner woman' who washed your feet with her tears and the very hair on her head. I know I don't really have enough hair for that to work with me, but the principle still leaves me speechless. You saw that woman for exactly what she was. Simon looked at her and saw a sinner. He saw a woman that didn't deserve to come to the table of a Rabbi, to interrupt him, to intrude, to get in the way, and waste precious perfume on his feet. Jesus, you didn't see sin, you saw forgiveness. The 'sinner woman', so wrapped up in your forgiving power, couldn't help but serve and come to your feet. Her actions came straight from her thankfulness of your forgiveness. Help me to be humble enough to get on my knees and wash your feet. Please help me to be a husband, a friend, a son, a brother, a child of God who lives each day recognizing that I am forgiven, and can't help but strive to live in that identity. Help me to take all that I am wrapped up in and lose it forever. Help me to grasp Your redeeming identity and claim it as my own, and do with me what you will. Thank you so much for all the blessings that You've given me in my life. It is so precious, and while I don't understand Your will sometimes, help me to accept it and strive for it each day. Today I don't know what that looks like. I am weak and today a little lost. You've made man so fragile, yet in our fragility we gain an incredible strength in You. Some days I don't understand that, especially this day; and some days I don't like it, especially this day. Honestly, I don't like that man is so weak. I don't like that tomorrow You could take me or anybody I love away from me. Honestly, I hate that...today, at least. Some days I'm OK with the fact that you are in complete control. It's just some of the things that happen, I don't know how to respond to. Today is that day. Yet... I shall be content in my questions and contemplations for now. It is in those time, when I don't have answers that I release my own desires and grasp a clearer understanding of your answers.

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? Look on me and answer, O LORD my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death, my enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall. But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me.

So here I sit, not as downtrodden as the psalmist, but lost in thought nonetheless. But as the psalmist, I will trust in Your unfailing love, rejoice in my identity as forgiven, and trust that You have been good to me, and will continue to be good. Help me to remember that and intentionally be that person to You, to my wife, family, and everyone you bring my way. Thank you for the second chance, again. Amen."

Jesus and My Dry County Girl

I had a wonderful time of worship this morning. I was in my car with the window's down, my stereo on pretty loud (my wife might say it was too loud and was possibly damaging my inner ear or something, but it was worth) and I was singing loud enough for passing drivers to look at me funny. But I did not care. It was a time of worship between me, God, and Rascal Flatts.

Odd? Yes. Holy? Absolutely.

This all came about because this morning at church we talked about worship. I love that God created us to sing. I love that at a concert or when a song is on the radio, we tap our foot to the beat, we hum along, and sometimes we just have to sing. We cannot hold it in any longer. I love that there are people in the world that can write down their own thoughts, emotions, and experiences into a poem and add their musical talent to it, and a wonderful song is born. I love that sometimes those people express ideas that were intended to be personal but have such a universal truth to them, we all can join in community and sing along. How can we keep from singing?

So this morning, after talking about worship and singing very Christian songs about redemption and praise to Jesus, which was wonderful, I got in may car and drove home. And along comes my friends Kenny, Randy, and the collective Rascal Flatts...and I sang! I sang loud, off key, and sometimes made my own rhythm and melody. I sang from the depth of my heart. Yes it was country music, but it was no less pleasing to God than the Christian themed songs we sang earlier.

I was reflecting on this singing (yes as I sang) and wondered to myself about this joy and thankfulness that came from me as I sang. Me, singing along to My Dry County Girl, Old Blue Chair, and Heroes and Friends, was just as praising as if the song was, Blessed Be Your Name or Agnus Dei. At that moment, my 2006 Toyota Corolla, with it's dented and scrated doors and sometimes sqeeky breaks, was just as holy as a basillica in Cartago or the sanctuary at Rose Drive.

Jesus and I had a wonderful drive home this morning. I had such thankfulness for the blessings that are in my life: my dry county girl, my old (black) chair, and my heroes and my friends. This thankfulness brought joy, and this joy brought song. And Jesus loved my out of tune, way too loud, made up rhythm, because it came from Him.