Rambling Analogy...and a Love Story?

I don't know who will ultimately read this. If you're one of the few who is, I am sorry. I just need to get it out. I am drowning right now. Sinking fast.
A couple summers ago, an event happened in my life that...well...changed it forever. I was working at Camp Geneva in Holland, MI, that summer -- summer of 06. I was a Shores Counselor, meaning I worked with elementary-aged kids. During a mid-summer staff retreat (which ended up just meaning we hung around the camp for a weekend of fellowship and games and good food) a bunch of the staff headed down to the beach for a day of sun and sand and swimming. We worked on our tans, read books, and just enjoyed each others company (without any kids around). Around the middle of the day, I and two other staff members decided we wanted to have a go at the third sandbar from the shore of Lake Michigan. Camp Geneva owns roughly 300 feet of Lake Michigan property and so we had the beach to ourselves. The three of us headed out, determined to make it to the prized third sandbar. The first came easy. The second, more difficult, but we managed. I remember noticing how deep the second sandbar was -- barely shallow enough for any of us to reach and take a breather. We press on. Quarter-way to the third sandbar, I don't know if it was fatigue or a mild rip currant, but something started to not seem right. I kept swimming. Halfway out, I could feel it getting harder and harder to keep my head above the water. I felt unable to keep my limbs moving. I felt like I was being pulled under. WOW...this is hard even just typing it. A fear came over my entire being. Panic set in. The worst thoughts any person could possibly think began thumping around in my head. It seemed as though my brain was able to have multiple thoughts all at once (which is amazing for a guy!). I remember one thought very vividly: A front page article in the Holland Sentinel (our local newspaper) with the title "Camp Counselor Goes For A Swim And Never Returns" became imprinted in my brain (I could see everything clearly on the page). Now when I hear people talk about their life flashing before their eyes, I actually believe them. I can't explain it, but I felt as though I could see everything that ever happened to me in the rush of a few seconds and I could actually focus long enough on certain images as to know what it was and remember it happening. I was drowning. I was going to die. I knew it was a matter of time -- whatever time it took for water to fill my lungs, oxygen to stop being mixed into my bloodstream, and ultimately my heart to stop beating.
Obviously, I am still here. One of the people with me, Kelli, managed, despite her own struggles with exhaustion, to make it over to where I had stopped and kept my head above water. A couple times I would slip into the water and she'd fight to bring me up again. She kept me up long enough for people on shore to hear the cries for help from Kelli and the other person and to send out a wind-surfing board to lay my body on. They made it just in time. They told me afterward that my eyes were literally ready to jump out of my head and my skin had turned a pasty white. I don't remember much of the ride back to shore. I just remember making it back to the sand and laying there, on the solid ground, for at least an hour while my head stopped spinning and my heart slowed down. I had never before appreciated solid ground as much as I did that day, that moment.
The entire thing was almost surreal. It has come to represent many things in my life since that day. I understand what it means to be drowning and helpless -- to be overwhelmed with something. I understand what it means to literally have someone save you. And I understand a little better the idea of God as the solid ground. Hmmmm...
Again, I am drowning. This time, it is not in Lake Michigan and I am not attempting to swim to the third sandbar. My soul is drowning. My soul is sinking into a disconnectedness with the very source of its existence. It is starving. Starved from its only true source of food.
My passions and joy have been snuffed out, as a candle is snuffed out. The institution that I "work for" is in grave need of repair. It greatly needs an oil change. I feel like a marionette in a puppet show. I can relate with Pinocchio -- poor kid just wanted something real in his life.

God called the church his Bride. What a beautiful image. God and his Bride, standing at the alter, having just made lasting vows to each other and sharing their first kiss. They turn toward the Heavenly beings, who were more than excited to be there on this "big day," and the two walk briskly hand-in-hand down the aisle.
This is how it was supposed to be. But something happened after the honeymoon ended. In fact, I don't know if they even made it back from that before the Bride begins a "wandering eye." She is so enthralled with love, that now she just has to "try" other lovers. She gives herself away over and over and over to these other lovers. All awhile God, the mighty groom who had promised to always love and protect the Bride, is devastated and heartbroken. He feels. He hurts. And this hurts. His Bride has effectively walked away from the commitment.
We are this Bride (and yes, this includes the dudes too). We have turned our back on the ultimate lover...for multiple lovers. We have hidden that wedding ring again and again to lure our many lovers, only to display it again when we feel we need Him back. This is what the church has done and is doing. This is what we have created. We have an over-sexed church. And to make matters all the worse, we have the audacity to cry out God's name, even while with another lover.
We have turned the church into so many things that it just should not be. It looks and feels and runs more like a business. More conversations are focused on budget issues than God's realness in our lives and our acknowledgment of Him. We hear about Him for 30 minutes (45 minutes if the preacher is really daring) once a week and call it good. Now back to life. Back to the daily grind. Back to the things that really matter. Right? Is this not what we do?
I could go on for hours about the church and how I do not believe that this is really what God intends for His Bride. A change does need to happen. A restoration. A restoration of God and His Bride. I can sense it in every ounce of my being. I can feel God saying to His Bride, "Oh my dearly loved one, how I have fought for you in times past. How I showed you that I was willing to die for you! I just want to be with you. I just want you. And I want you to realize just how much you need me. How much I really offer you. But you don't seem to want it. I wish you would. You experience so much pain apart from me. You have created many words to try to express the depths of your longing for something more: lost, confused, broken, empty, dirty, and trapped. Oh, how you've mistaken your other lovers for me. Come back simply to me. Just come back."
But we want to focus on other things. Things we can see, feel, and control. We love our structures. We love our planning. We love our "order of worship." We seem to love everything else, but you! And you're the reason we "go" to church.
This is why I'm drowning. Because of these many thoughts and others like them. I work for this "Bride." I have my nameplate on the tag of her dress.
God, please restore your Bride back to her place beside you. Everything is from you. God, I submit this to you. Take it and use it for your glory, how ever you see fit.
Love,
Nat

A Stirring...

What is it about church? Why do people care so much about all the little things that happen? "You have to wear this if you're going to speak in front of church" and "This is the way we've always done things." Where is God in all this confusion?
My dad asked me the other day a question. A question that has helped to change the way I look at my ministry. He simply asked me: "What is it really about?" WHAT? That's it? The it represents a lot in my life. The it is everything I'm doing. The it is everything I feel God has put before me. The it is my ministry to the church. So what is it really about? Why am I here? What am I doing? Why do I work 12-hour days? Why do I sit in my office for hours on end? Why do I plan? Why do I have very little time for a personal life outside of the church? These are some of the questions that have crowded the waiting room in my brain. These are the questions that are starting to reignite a stirring within me that has been dormant for too long.
Each time someone asks me to share my testimony, and I get to the most recent part about God calling me to TRC, all these feelings of God's active providence begin to surface again. I need the reminder. It's nice to have the reminder. Because God did call me to TRC. He made it clear this is where I am supposed to be.
It was a Saturday afternoon last year in September that would alter my life forever. I was visiting some friends back in the Detroit, MI, area. I was at my friend Mike's house and I was just chillin' in his room. My cell phone rings and the screen shows as a (616) number. I knew that was the area code for West Michigan, but I didn't recognize the number. I answered the phone and heard a female's voice come over the speaker into my ear.
"Hello, is this Kevin," the voice asked?
"Yes, this is Kevin," I said back, still a little confused about the call.
"My name is Barb and I am from TRC in Holland, MI. We would like to talk to you about a youth director opening we have."
"Ok," I said back, completely shocked.
"Would you be available next week sometime for an interview?"
"Uhhh...yes, I think I can make that work."
"Great! How does Thursday sound?"
"That will be just fine."
Now, there was more to the conversation. But I have included the important parts for the writing of this post. So I get a call on a Saturday afternoon and the following Thursday I drove to Holland, MI, from Big Rapids, MI (where my parents lived and where I headed after Detroit). I really didn't know what to expect and in all honesty I really hate interviews. I was nervous, but felt like I had so little invested in this so far that I figured what is there to lose? I prayed a lot on that drive, asking that God make His plan clear. I hung my head high and went into that interview trying to be myself. I met with the search team, consisting of 5 people. We sat around a circle table and I drank ice water and munched on a chocolate chip cookie. It was one of the more laid back interviews I had ever done. And it seemed to go very well. It was all over in probably just over an hour, but I admit that I wasn't really keeping track of time. I headed for home with a very positive feeling about the night. I remember calling my dad, during the drive, and telling him how I thought it went well. I happened to stop at my Grandma's on the way back and ended up staying the night there because it was already late at night and I was emotionally exhausted. In a totally unplanned change of weekend plans, I would spend the rest of the weekend with my Grandma and cousins at their cottage on Silver Lake, in Mears, MI. That next Saturday (two days after the interview) I was enjoying the Apple Fest with my cousins when my phone rang. It was a representative from TRC calling me with the results of the interview. I figured that the speed of the reply meant a big "NOT GONNA HAPPEN!" But, to my surprise, they wished to extend a call to me as their next Youth Director. I was beside myself. I could feel the excitement take hold of my entire body. I could barely respond to the person on the other end of the phone. I wanted to blast off from the bench I was sitting on. I wanted to scream, shout, and make a big scene for the locals. But I resisted and centered myself once again on the conversation at hand. We talked some logistical details and he asked when I could start? I probably should have responded with something like: "Well, I'll need a little time to get everything ready and find a place to live (and catch my breath from the shock of this whole process...but I didn't tell him that)." Instead, I replied with a: "I can start as soon as possible." And that I did. The following Tuesday I was in Holland, MI, meeting the staff, checking out my new office (I HAD AN OFFICE!), and eating lunch with one of the elders. The entire thing was a whirlwind experience. That is the only way I can describe it to people. In a matter of 10 days my life was completely never going to be the same again.
That was the providence of God. That was God shaping my future. That was God revealing His plan for my life...at this stage in time. And I could not have been more excited to get rolling.
That first Tuesday was Sept. 18, 2007. And my life has never looked the same since. I hit the ground sprinting, or rather galluping (if this was something a human could do). I headed in with a huge passion for God and with many ideals swirling around my head. I was ready for whatever the enemy could throw at me. How naive I was! And how humbled God has insisted I become.
Growing up a PK (or Pastor's Kid) meant that I knew what I was getting myself into. I had left my dad's church just over a year before, because of the frustration with the church. I wasn't the rebellious pastor's kid that you probably have heard talked about before. I always tried to respect my parents and knew what God had called my dad into. It was nothing my father had done at the church he pastored at that had caused me to leave, but everything about what the church had done and was doing. I had gained this passion for God's Word during the latter part of my high school years and into my first year of college. And everything I read about seemed to be so contradicted with what I saw each Sunday morning. I was confused about how things had gotten to be where they were. All I saw was tradition and structure and plans and people going through the motions in their faith. I never read about that from the extremely passionate in the Bible. In fact, the extremely passionate seemed set against those of the day who maybe were "going through the motions." I saw Jesus intentionally coming against the "going through the motions" of His day. And it seemed to me that I was surrounded by my own brood of vipers. I couldn't help but make comparisons between the "Christians" in my church and the Pharisees so pointedly talked about during Jesus' ministry. It seemed my passions and the traditions of my church home were uno-mon-uno about to battle it out. The passions God gave me won out. And I walked away from my father's church after 8 years. I headed out in search of some passionate followers like myself.
I found some of these passionate followers at the summer camp I worked for that very summer. For the first time in my life I was experiencing unhindered worship. And I was meeting with people my own age who seemed to love God with all of their heart, soul, and mind. And who wanted to be used by God that summer in the lives of thousands of kids who only God would know all the names of. It was an incredible summer of fellowship-healing for me. And the worship we entered into together on Sunday nights is to this day a bar I have yet to see again.
If I look back on all the steps in my past, I can see God holding the map that He Himself made. I know He has a purpose for me. That He wants to use me in His church. I know that God is moving and breathing life into His once-dead Bride. A Bride who has so expended herself on others that there is little to nothing left for her Groom. I know that God is in control. And that everything happens in His timing. I know that He sent His Son into the world to bring restoration to a broken order, a broken human race. I know that He is about restoration. And I know that He is not content with where His church is right now. I cannot hold back any longer that we should not be content with where His church is right now.
Some days are really hard working for that church. I still can't believe that I am actually working for the church. There is a long road ahead. And I don't know what the journey will look like. I just know that He has given me a stirring. He is stirring my heart for this restoration to take place all over the North American church. A focus-shift needs to sweep across this country and world. We need to stop seeing church as the focus of our efforts. We need to stop being obsessed with the functions of the church. We need to let go. And we need to return. Return to the place where God is the focus. Where being in relationship with Him is all that matters to us. Return to a meeting together with other Christians that draws its very existence from our love and passion for God. This is the stirring God has put inside me. And this is the stirring that I've squelched for the past few months in favor of helping to do church. But the stirring is growing. I can't hold it back any more...

The Beauty of a Name

I thought I would very briefly explain a little about my blog's name. It's funny talking about my blog like it's a pet. But the name was chosen for very specific reasons. I believe in names. I love the meanings of names. I love how in the bibical times a person's name was who they were. The parents of a new born would take one look at their new child and give him/her the name they best saw fit. Or perhaps a particular situation at or around the time of the birth would determine the name. Perhaps too, I like names because my name means something very particular to my situation. My real name is Kevin Nathanael Vollema. This is the only time I will use that full name. But my name means literally: "kind and gentle gift from God."
11 months before I was brought into the world, my parents lost their first child shortly before he was due to be born. Not an easy thing for any young, newly-married couple to grieve. But 3 months after this painful event, news of another pregnancy filled my parents once again with hope. Thus, when I was born, a healthy baby boy, my parents could not think of any better meaning for my name.
All this is to properly lead in to the reason for my blog's name.
Restoration. This has been a word on my mind a lot lately. I like what it stands for: something was that no longer is and now needs to be brought back. It is filled with hope and wonder. But also sacrifice and time-effort.
Journal. This word carries with it a lot of weight. As I wrote in my first blog, I enjoy writing. And I am at a point in my life when journaling is quite important to my survival. There is so much going on in my head 24/7 that I just need an adequate place to "let it out." I finally brought myself to buying a journal over this past summer and have been exploring the fruit of its use ever since.
You might notice all the letters are lower case, save for one: the "J." The "J" stands for something very near to me. The "J" stands for Jesus Christ. All other letters take second billing to this single letter and the hope I have found behind it.
Hidden within this name -- restoration:Journal -- is everything I am about. And hopefully you will see that play out as these blogs continue.

Giving this a try

I've never done this before. I used to laugh anytime someone talked about "blogging." It was a funny word to me. And an even funnier concept. But as time has gone on, I now see some benefits to this.
I love writing. I love to form words together to process my thoughts. Many times my own tumbled mix of thoughts are confusing to me. Writing allows for an outlet to understanding just what I'm thinking. God has given me this passion for writing and it's time I used it for Him. It may take me a little time to get used to sharing on here. But I will attempt to be as honest as possible. There are many things on my heart. Things I want to share.
I have always been a short-story sort of person. The idea of writing a book intimidates me. I just want to write down some thoughts on a subject, and leave it at that. With so many books written today, I feel I'd only be adding to the noise. This just may suit me better. And just to warn you, when I get passionate about a subject, I find myself getting rather candid and maybe just a little scatter-brained. But I do hope you enjoy this.