Survival Of The Quieted

University of Northern Iowa.
Versus.
Michigan State University.
Campus of University of Northern Iowa.
Surrounded by University of Northern Iowa fans.
Wearing my Michigan State University t-shirt.
Back of the room.

Just wanted to share a short story of my survival techniques last night during the game.

I was invited to join a couple guys I know to an apartment complex where some UNI students would be watching the game together off a projector. They knew I was a State fan and would probably come prepared with gear and plenty to say about why my team would beat their team. I was told there may be 5 or 6 people there. I figured this would be no big deal. Just some good, healthy competitiveness.

Oh broken expectations.

Following some difficulty finding the apartment - I was told I'd find a projector set up in a big room just inside the door but never did - I finally met up with one of the guys I knew and the night began. The projector was set up in a meeting room joining four apartments, on the second floor. The room was probably 15' by 35'. We set up three couches in the room. My first tip-off that there was going to be more than 6 people here.

People began to pour in over the next 20 minutes before game-time. Probably around 20 total. All of them wearing the UNI purple. Some painted faces. Purple beads. The works. This was going to be interesting. Then... the beer was brought out. I began to fidget in my seat. Things might get ugly.

Regardless, as the game began and the beers still cold in the bottles, I made sure people knew there was one MSU fan in the house. The UNI students began the game chanting their school's fight song. At the very end, as they finished, I yelled out "GO STATE!" Again, I was sitting near the back of the room. Next to the few guys I knew. All the Panther fans in front of me, collectively, turned around to see who would dare yell out such an obscenity. I got dirty looks from some. A couple, who just enjoyed the spirit of competitiveness, turned and smiled or laughed. I knew I would have to pace myself. Very carefully. Tactfully. I wanted to live to see the Spartan's next game, if there would be one.

As the game progressed, with the score remaining close, I began to keep some emotions in check. When the Spartans scored, I would just pump my fist, non-verbally. And with the game in reach for the Spartans, I almost entirely drew back. Hoping those in front of me had forgotten there was an enemy fan amongst them. When the game finished, with MSU winning 59-52, I made no verbal celebration. All I remember saying is: "That was a good game." Inside... I WAS ECSTATIC!!

And so... if you should find yourself on enemy territory, with Panthers bleeding purple, with beer involved (I was not crazy about this to begin with), you would be wise to quiet yourself. This is the Survival Of The Quieted. And this is the nature of March Madness.

GO MSU!!!!

Project:Rust Off

Have you ever watched rust as it eats?
For whatever reason, it has a never ending appetite for metal.
Personally, I don't understand why it likes the stuff so much.
Hard on the teeth.
Maybe that's why God didn't give rust teeth.

Leave a nice looking, garage-kept car sitting on a patch of green, fertile ground over just one winter and see what happens. This nice, garage-kept car will emerge from the moisture-saturated ground with reddish-brown little speckles all along the underneath. It doesn't take much. And once it begins, it's almost impossible to stop.

Now, leave a human body, built for movement, infused with hundreds of muscles complimenting its neighbor, in a house over one long cold winter and see what happens. This human body built for movement will grow soft. His or her body will grow speckles of rust on those spectacular muscles. This is what happened to me this past winter. I grew soft. Rusty. Way out of shape. Even work, throughout the season, wasn't enough to keep the rust away.

So begins Project:Rust Off. As the temperature rises, as the sun peeks its glorious round shining face, I am making myself knock the rust off. Monday started it all off. Low 50's with a slight breeze out of the west. Jogged two miles down the country road. Then walked a mile to loosen those spectacular muscles God embedded inside. Yesterday was cold again. So I gave my legs a day to recover from Day 1. But today, as I returned from work around 3 in the afternoon, I couldn't help but get the running itch once again. Mid-50's with a lesser wind than Monday. I pulled my car into the driveway. Booked it down the stairs to my room. Tore off my work clothes, replacing them with basketball shorts, a long-sleeve undershirt, and a t-shirt. I laced up my neon green and white New Balance running shoes, titled Zips, and headed outside. Taking a deep breath and stretching my tight legs, I examined the road which would be my path for the next few minutes. Then, with little warning, my body took off. Maybe before my mind could even mutter the phrase: "Hold on!" There I went... my soft body bouncing down the gravel road, heading west into the breeze.

Day 2 of Project:Rust Off was, as expected, more difficult. Though the same two miles beckoned me on from Monday, I could tell early that this battle would be won or lost in my mind. My mind didn't want to do this. It wanted to stop, turn around, walk back home, and chomp down on one of those tasty glazed donuts. It seemed an every-second war with stopping. But I set my eyes on the ground right before me and attempted to distract my mind with thoughts of this coming summer. Reaching the one mile turnaround point, all the gravel roads here are exactly one mile apart, the arrows flinging at my will increased. It was there, that I came so close to putting the brakes on. If it wasn't for the car steaming down the road, causing me to shift my position, I probably would have stopped there. But I came to the intersection and began heading back east. The arrows continued to fly. My body did not like this at all. But I kept going. And going. And going. Until... I pulled to a halt back in my driveway, grabbed my water bottle from next to my car, and collapsed to the ground. I know it isn't good to lay down immediately after running, but it was all I knew to do. I had fought the battle. I saw my run through. And now I needed to rest. I breathed hard. My lungs wrenching from the drama I just put them through. I dumped half the water bottle down my neck and back. It felt good, like jumping into a cool spring after hiking 10 miles on a humid day. After sitting for a few minutes, listening to the flies wake up from their winter slumber and buzz loudly behind me, I stood up to feel the damage. Surprisingly, I could move. To finish the days activities, I decided to shoot hoops for about 40 minutes. With each bounce of the ball, more and more of that rust shed from my skin. I moved swifter. More intentional. It all felt very good. Very, very good.

I will continue.

Windows 10 (because 7 ate 9)!

I was reminded of this saying recently:
"When God closes a door, He opens a window."
This is from a movie and I can't, for the life of me, remember what movie it is.
*spoken in a whisper*
If you know, could you tell me?

Though I didn't let everyone know this, in addition to applying for Summit, I also applied at a camp in Texas. Camp Buckner. In the city of Burnett. It was an internship role, serving in whatever aspects of camp ministry needed. I was super excited about the possibility. God closed this door last week. I was a bit confused and maybe a little hurt. I didn't so much care whether it was Texas or Colorado, Buckner or Summit, Texas country or the Rockies. Rejection just hurts. Though it didn't hit me, the door, as it swung shut, simply caught me off guard. Caused me to jump back a little. My head cocked to the side and my mind filled with thoughts. I looked around, embarrassed, making sure nobody just saw that happen. What? They didn't want me? They didn't want ME? My silly, stupid human self for thinking this. Oh pride. It took a few hours that night for me to regain my dignity and puncture my pride balloon. KAABLOOM!
But here I sit. In a plump leather chair, with my black Vegas shirt on. Staring out the figurative window God has opened. Summit has offered me a job. Like the gust of wind which bursts through a just-opened window, I feel the fresh breeze flow through my skin, cooling my insides. Everything inside me has wanted to trust His workings. To believe He had that plan He told the Israelites in Jeremiah 29:11 for my life too. I put this summer in His mighty hands. Told Him whatever He wanted, I would do. If neither job had worked out, I would still have to trust. So the window has been opened. I will be working in Colorado this summer. I will be standing in the shadow of the sky-scraping Rockies. Breathing in the fresh scent flowing down from the rivers and streams formed from months of snow. Walking beside high school and college students as they attempt to understand, truly, what they believe. Immersed in a community of twentysomethings seeking to glorify the Lord with their summers.
The summer will not be without its challenges. I have a lot to learn about worldview, about defending worldview. I will be leading a small group of guys each two-week period. Not since leaving Trinity will I have such intentional interaction with young people. This will be a flashlight into the dark basement I have stored many emotions from walking away from that ministry. I want God to continue breaking me, but I can handle only so much. I must stand in the faith that He knows what this breaking point be.
As of right now, I will be heading to Summit May 2nd thru July 9th.
Thanks to everyone who has been keeping up with my plans for the summer. I appreciate your friendship and your prayers. Whatever God gives, He gives.