Sand Castles and Department Stores

I need you.
Yes you.
I need you to be bringing somethings before the Lord for me. I have some big decisions that are being made right now. And I just need support. Prayer support. I need wisdom and boldness and peace. Oh, how I want peace. Godly peace. And I want to have joy again. To breathe, knowing that every breath is possible because God Himself breathed into the man the "breath of life." And I want sure footing. I guess I thought my house was being built on cement. The contractor called me a few months ago to inform me that there was "a large quantity of sand" found beneath where my house was being built. The cement crumbled away. The house caved in. It's not even lakefront property. WHERE DID THE SAND COME FROM?
I feel like the little child lost in a department store wondering how he got lost. "They were right there a second ago -- I just turned around for a moment to push the 'Try Me' on the cool firetruck with real firetruck sounds and they are gone." Oh the sinking feeling that brings with it. Your heart begins to race. Your head spins. The volume of sounds around you gets turned to it's highest setting. My Papa wants me to learn something from all of this. He is asking me to trust Him.
I have to make a decision on a big issue in my life. It feels like when I most need His voice, He remains silent. But I need to make the decision. Then honor God through it. That is part of what I am learning. God does not always function by telling us to "go here" or "do this." He is smarter than that. You do not learn much from being always told what to do. God waits for my decision and then wants to see how I bring Him glory through it. That is all He cares about. That I bring Him glory! And I want to. I want to so much.
My walk the last few months has been strangled. My joy is hardpressed to be seen. I have pushed some of my best friends away. And I have been left feeling the deepest loneliness I have ever known. There is so much going on inside my head. And my emotions have been similar to a golf ball if I ever attempted to play the sport -- let's just say shouting the word "FORE" in golf was created just for me.
God has so much work to do on me. And I... I... just need to allow the time to allow God to do that work undone in me.
If things go unchanged. I do not know how much longer I can make it.
I am just trying to be real right now. Sorry for all the emotional jibjab.
I just ask that you be praying. Go before our Great God and Father on my behalf. Please. Thank you for reading and listening and praying. I wish I could give you a hug right now... ok, I admit, that was just creepy... :)

UnconditionalHurricaneLove

1836 confirmed deaths.
705 bodies never found.
175 mph winds.
$89 billion in ytd damages.
At least 3 countries greatly affected.
Category 5 label.
Katrina.
The costliest hurricane ever recorded. The sixth strongest winds. Top 5 deadliest ever. Katrina changed the face of an entire population. Millions of people lost their homes overnight. Some of them still have not returned. To say that Katrina had power to change things is an understatement. Lives. Geographical land. Mindsets. All of it changed in a rush of water. Powerful stuff -- those hurricanes.
I was chatting today with a student over Nantucket Strawberry-Watermelon juice from JP's Coffee. We were talking about love. Real love. Not just the between-a-man-and-woman kinda real love. But just simply real, unconditional love. What is unconditional love? This question made my mind go to a passage in Romans. I could remember the exact wording and what book it was in, but it took me a long time to find exactly where it was. I found it. Romans 5:8. "But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." I began to think about Christ's entire gospel. His purpose. What He did. What He said while He was here. I thought about the question: "Was the cross the only act of 'unconditional love' that He expressed?" Did He, by chance, live unconditional love every moment? Could this be why so many people were attracted to Him? Isaiah says that He had nothing that we would physically want. There must have been something else. Did He have a catchy personality? Was He flamboyant? Did He have this great radio voice that everyone wanted to listen to? Or did He just simply love people? To the point that everyone following Him around could just feel it coming from Him? Like the warmth you might feel from a room heater? Was His expression of life-love as influencing and powerful as a hurricane?
Hurricanes bring... Devastation. Loss. Pain. Uncertainty.
Love brings... Renewal. Restoration. Healing. Affirmation. Safety.
To compare the two is just absurd. But not if you think solely about impact. Many people would tell you that Jesus changed a lot of things. They would use words like "revolutionary." They would say He was the most important person to ever walk the earth. But why? I think maybe it was because he, in full confidence of who He was, swept in over land like Katrina. Even though we knew Katrina was coming, there was no stopping her power. Jesus we knew would come too. And not even Katrina's power could have matched the power of Jesus' unconditional love in the lives of those He walked with -- of those He is still walking with. Unconditional love might just be the only thing that can really change anything at all. Think about it. What if we all loved each other unconditionally (I know this is an idealistic idea but I am just posing the question)? What if it did not matter what she looked like? Or how he smelt? Or how she talks? What if it did not matter what he did to me? What she did to me? Would there be changing power in that? What would happen?
Every time I realize I am giving someone conditional love, eventually my mind heads back to that Romans passage. Nothing anyone has ever done to me could possibly come close to the things I have done to Him on a daily basis. And yet... and yet... He still died for me. And has given His Spirit to continue walking with me.
We make so much of love nowadays. You see the word all the time. Everywhere. We use it to describe intensely something that we like. We use it to describe two people having sex. We use it along with food-chain slogans. And exclaiming to someone: "I do not love you anymore," might just be the worst thing that person ever remembers hearing. We hear people say things like: "Why can't we all just love each other?" People go to church and leave with a "Love Wins" sticker on their bumper. I think Satan loves how much we use the word. The more meanings we attribute to it, the less we understand the real meaning. Perhaps 1 Corinthians 13 can help clear a few things up.
Love is patient.
Love is kind.
Love does not envy.
Love does not boast.
Love is not proud.
Love is not rude.
Love is not self-seeking.
Love is not easily angered.
Love keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil.
Love rejoices with truth.
Love always protects.
Love always trusts.
Love always hopes.
Love always perseveres.
Love never fails.
If we broke down unconditional love into all of its parts, this is what we would get. This is Jesus -- in 16 acts. Replace the word "love" with Jesus and it always works perfectly. Replace the word "love" with Nat and things get bumpy really fast.
Here is another passage that comes to mind. 1 John 3:16. "This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers." If this laying our lives down is to really be love, there are no conditions for who "our brothers" really are. I know for me whenever I read this passage and get to those last two words, my mind immediately goes to all the people I know who I would willingly die for (and not just literally dying for, but putting aside my own wants and desires). My mind automatically categorizes out all those people who I would rather not love like this. I can think of a few right now.
Lets travel back to that original passage in Romans. Here is what the verse ahead of verse 8 says: "Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die." As much as verse 8 is a reflection of Christ, so verse 7 is a reflection of me. For a person I deem good, I might lay myself aside. But Christ, in this insane unconditional-love stuff, died for man while they were doing every kind of evil thing against Him. And we call Him a "revolutionary." I say He changed a lot of things. Hmmmm....
Imagine if we sought His definition of love? Just think about the implications. We will never totally get it right. But just think if we started asking God for strength to live out those 16 definitions? What if I started asking God for this strength?
There is no doubt that the quality of love with which Jesus showed was unlike anything anyone had ever seen walking the streets of a human city. As John 1:14 reads in The Message, "The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son." Do not quickly move from those words. Read them again with your eyes. Close your eyes and picture the scene with your heart. He did not make sense. That is why it was so hard for so many people during Jesus' time to believe He was who He said He was. That is why it is still just as hard. If those who could see Him with their own eyes had trouble believing. How much more today? But... He was... simply put... the man-flesh expression of God's UnconditionalHurricaneLove.

Oh, to have UnconditionalHurricaneLove.

The Man from Ick

"Once there was a town called Ick.

The people of Ick had a problem – they were icky.

For some unexplained reason, everyone who was born in Ick ended up icky. Scientists, doctors, and experts from all over the world had tried to analyze the people of Ick, and although they all agreed that the people of Ick were icky, no one could agree on a cure. In fact, there was no cure.

The scientists, doctors and experts agreed that the only thing they could do would be to give people suggestions on how to cope with their ickyness.

But experts or no experts, everyone learned to cope in their own way. Some pretended they weren't icky. Some tried to keep busy and forget their ickyness. Others decided that being icky was better than not being icky… and they got ickier. Some just didn't care. But if you were able to get a person from Ick to be honest, they really didn't like being icky.

Well, you can imagine how many people arrived in Ick with a cure for ickyness. And you can imagine how many people were always willing to try each new cure that came along. And strangely enough, some of the cures seemed to work… for a while. But eventually, the cure would stop working and everyone would be icky again.

One day something happened that radically changed the people of Ick.

A long-time resident of Ick began to suggest publicly that he had a cure for ickyness. It was very difficult for the people of Ick to believe that a person who lived in Ick himself could have a real cure for ickyness.

But then something strange happened. One of the ickiest people in all of Ick believed in this cure and was changed. He simply wasn't icky anymore. Everyone thought it was just temporary and waited. But it didn't go away, and before long lots and lots of people started believing the man from Ick… and everyone who believed was cured.

It was incredible! And one would think that the people of Ick were overjoyed. But the people weren't overjoyed, and soon a town meeting was called.

The fact of the matter was, the business community of Ick had been built around the basic fact of people's ickyness. And with more and more people losing their ickyness, the economic future of Ick was threatened. After an extremely heated discussion, it was generally agreed that what appeared to be a cure for ickyness was probably like all the other so-called cures and would soon turn out to be a hoax. And since so many people were being misled, and since it was possible that many more people could be misled, and since a person who would perpetuate such a hoax on a community like Ick could affect the stability of Ick, the savior of Ick was asked to leave. He refused. He continued to cure people, and each day those responsible for the stability of Ick became more and more concerned.

One day, however, the savior of Ick disappeared. It caused quite a commotion, and no one to this day knows what happened. Some said he was done away with. Others said they actually saw him the day after he disappeared. But what was strange was that even though the savior of Ick was gone, people who believed in him and his cure suddenly would find their ickyness gone. And even though the majority of the townspeople were in agreement that this savior was a hoax, all those who believed in him were still cured.

The people who had lost their ickyness thought everyone would jump at the chance to be cured. They were sadly disappointed. Very few were even interested. So the ex-icky people did what they could to convince the icky people that their cure was not a hoax, and every once in a while someone would believe.

Apparently – this is only hearsay – a small group of ex-icky people began to worry that if they or their children associated too much with icky people, they might be contaminated or become icky again.

It wasn't long before these people banded together and moved to the top of Ick Hill, an isolated spot on the edge of town. They worked, shopped, and went to school in downtown Ick, and then returned to Ick Hill for their evenings and weekends. But it wasn't long before the people of Ick Hill became so fearful of contamination that they built their own school, market, gas station, and shopping center.

One morning, several months later, the people of Ick woke up to see Ick Hill covered by a large glass bubble. Ick Hill was now a completely self-contained community with everything completely under control.

One particularly cold morning, an icky person in the city of Ick noticed that there was no visible activity going on inside the glass bubble of Ick Hill. A rescue party was sent to see if everything was all right.

After breaking through the glass bubble, they were shocked to find the entire population of Ick Hill dead. Autopsies were ordered, and the cause of death was the same for all.

Suffocation."

That was a parable I found in the book: Get 'Em Talking. Written by Mike Yaconelli and Scott Koenigsaecker. Very intriguing.

Jesus Sitting In The Third Pew

Have you ever had a difficult time starting something? Maybe a sentence while talking to a friend or a paper you needed to write for that psychology class last semester? I know what I want to talk about but I am having "starters block."

What do you think about in the shower? Ok… I admit that is an awkward question to ask. This morning in the shower I was thinking about Jesus. I am reading Donald Miller's book Searching for God Knows What. I had just finished a long chapter titled: Jesus. In it, Mr. Miller sets out to describe who Jesus is. Although Miller is the anti-list, anti-formula writer, he gave a list of eight personality traits or facts he saw in Jesus after reading through all four gospels 10-times each. He wanted/needed to know who Jesus was for himself. The things Miller found were beautiful. Here they are: He believed all people were equal, He was ugly, He liked to be with people, He had no fear of intimacy, He was patient, He was kind, He was God, He is I AM. I know there are many more things to Jesus than just these eight items. Having spent the morning reading Miller's chapter on Jesus, I jumped into the shower with many thoughts rumbling around in my head.

I had this scene flash before my eyes: I enter the building where my church meets and walked toward the entrance to the Sanctuary. I scan the seats as I round the corner. A man is sitting in the third row from the front on the right side about 4 or 5 chairs in from the center aisle. He has dark hair. I see the man's head turning slowly from left to right, scanning the room in front of him. Every so often I see him put his head down and look at the ground. Something seems heavy on this person. I go to take a step toward the man when a bone in my body loudly creaks. I pause. The man hears the noise and turns his head to me, staring. I catch a glimpse of his eyes. I cannot describe them beyond the sadness that I saw. I knew almost immediately who it was I was looking at. It was Jesus. Jesus was sitting in the third pew from the front on the right side. I did not notice any color to his eyes (although I admit that my mind wanted so badly to give him blue eyes… I know Jesus did not have blue eyes). What I did see though was the sadness. He seemed to be speaking to me through his eyes. Saying to me that he was hurting here in this room. I said nothing to him. I partly knew why he looked so sad.

Why did Jesus come to die? Was it so we would have the freedom to spend half a million dollars a year on "running" the church? Was it so that we could have a stage with sound equipment and lighting and a candle burning and a pulpit and a table with plastic bread and a dusty wine goblet? Was it so we could have pews and chairs all lined up perfectly? Was it so that we could have budget meetings and be "good stewards of what God has given?" Was it so that we could join others who doctrinally and politically believed the same things we did? Was it so that we could come together for an hour once-a-week to hear some preacher dude bring down the house with his incredibly Spirit-inspired words that he wrote three days before? Maybe this is why Jesus came to die. Seems like such a small thing to come and die for.

When I looked into Jesus eyes and saw that sadness, I knew that he was saying to me: "Kevin, this is not what my message of life was supposed to be about. I love my Bride. But it seems that while my Bride was trying to find me and glorify me, she found something easier and more entertaining to care about. I just wanted to give her new life. A life filled with love and the realest relationships she could ever imagine. I wanted to give her myself." Jesus and I continued to look at each other in silence. Then the image faded from my mind.

It has me asking a lot of questions. I guess the first is: "Who is Jesus? Really?" I want to read the gospels with this question firmly in thought. The next few questions I have are these: "What would Jesus have to say about what His Bride seems all about?" "If Jesus came to heal the sick, why are we all trying to pretend like we aren't sick?" "What happened to the realness of the gospel and the power of the Spirit?" "What do all of our traditions really mean?" "What happened to genuineness?" "Why does the Bride look more like a business or golf club than a Kingdom under its righteous King's reign?"

I admit, these are just questions. I know intrinsically there is more to this life with Christ than we have right now… than I have right now. I know… and I have known for many years that something wasn't right. There is this self-focus to everything we seem to be about in church. God doesn't seem to exist beyond the many words we serve up each Sunday morning. Behind each of these questions lies my heart's true intent: "God, I want more of You! I need you to be REAL! I do not need the happy-thought of you. I need You!" I feel like I have lost sight of Him, because I have been more concerned with what others think. Men. Not God. Jesus seemed to be about healing and love and sacrifice. He looked at people in the eyes. He was patient, as Miller already stated. He cared about people. People were people in His eyes. His own creation… that He desired to bring back to His own perfect intent originally designed for them. People were not objects on a chess board to be moved about in a step-by-step preplanned-out process of winning a game, as I think the church seems to think we are. I AM NOT A CHESS PIECE! I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THE GAME!

I have talked before about the hole I feel in my heart. I am realizing all the things I have tried to put in my heart to fill it. Girls… or more accurately a single relationship with a girl… have been my number one filler. Each time left me still empty and hurting. The number two thing I try to fit inside my heart is other people and everything that comes with having them acknowledge my existence. The number three thing is all the material possessions that seem to bridge a "happy-gap" from moment to moment in my life. The number four thing I have learned is I try to fill my hole with the church. I have looked for the church to answer the question: "What is the purpose for life?" I keep asking church to answer this question or that question and when it can't I get frustrated with it and call it mean names and storm off in the other direction. When all along I am just misusing it. All I really want is to feel validated. To be a part of something.

I am still figuring out why the Son of God came and sat in the third row of my church this morning in the shower. I guess I needed to see Him in there. And I suppose I needed to see the sad look on His face to know that there is more than I have been feeling. That church cannot fill my hole… only Christ can do that. But also to know that something is making Jesus sad about where His Bride is focused. Honestly, the umbrella leadership of the church looks not-so-different to that of the Pharisees. Jesus came up hard against the Pharisees. They made Him very sad and a little frustrated. He died for them too, you know. But they just wanted their law – a safety-net of right and wrongs. What they really were doing was waving their hand back and forth at God trying to draw His attention to themselves and say: "Hey, look what I can DO… look what I can DO!" They pushed God out of their everyday breathing. And we have not fallen so far from the apple tree.

Jesus. Let me see you again. I felt close to you this morning. I am sorry for the mess we've made of your Bride. I am sorry for my own involvement in that mess. I really just want to see You. Let's meet up again.

Papa > Hole.

Papa.
I am lost.
I do not know what I am doing.
I do not know who You are.
I hurt people.
I confuse people.
And all of this hurts You.
The love of the cross seems so far away right now.
I cannot see it.
I need You.
Only You.
Please, finally fill me.
I cannot go on like this.
With this hole in my heart.
An open wound is more susceptible to infection.
And that is what I have allowed in.
Infections.
Papa, I am gross.
And I need You to heal the wound.
To suck the infection out.
Because I keep making it worse.
I do not like this feeling.
I need You.
Please.
Let.
Me.
Feel.
You.

I feel so feel-less.

Please wake up.
Arise.
From this slumber.
Come quickly to my side.
Papa, come save me.
Snatch me from the thief's grip.
Rescue me from myself.

Fear.

Fear.
What is the fear of the Lord?
What does it mean to fear the Lord?
I would like to hear some thoughts. I have been thinking about this topic for a couple days now. I have lost the fear. "Come here Fear... come here. Sit... sit... good Fear. Now, who are you and what do you want with me?" When I thought for a moment that perhaps I have lost the fear of the Lord, the ground seemed to open up before me and a huge fire-breathing, black-silhouetted, Chihuahua-looking, winged creature rose up and, looking me up and down, snubbed its three heads, turned to give me his back in a sort of "I am better than you sort of way," and headed back down into the deep darkness from whence it came. I think that God is asking me to fear Him again. I have asked Him to help me fear Him.
What happens when we lose the fear of the Lord?
What happens when we do fear Him?

Play-Doh: Modeling Compound

Something is off. I don't know what it is. For the past few days, something has not been right. I have not been right. This is partly why I have not written lately. So do not think that my mind has been quiet. It never quiets. Not anymore.
The next time you are at the store, walk over to the kid's toys section and find where the play-doh is sold. Grab a container. Read the front label. Play-Doh: Modeling Compound.
This past weekend was incredible. JUMP Retreat 08 at Camp Geneva with my Middle Schoolers (Fuse students). The speaker brought the truth of the gospel home to the student's ears. And in our small group time, amazing things took place. I had used the example of play-doh throughout the weekend to describe how Christ made us to be. Moldable. Moveable. Shapable. Soft. Able to look like the hands handling us. I even found some play-doh from a couple years ago that began to crystallize over. This was the example of living outside of God's intent for us. When we do not allow ourselves to be molded by the Creator, we just get hard and gross. And it is not an easy thing to become soft and moldable again. God designed us to be shapable. So that we could be continually transformed into His image. Oh what a beautiful image. The God who was, and is, and is to come created a being in His image.
Play-doh was designed to be shaped.
Somewhere along the way, we all gave up our play-dohishness.
In search of our own image, we have all become like dried out play-doh.
You and I were worthy of being thrown out.
Christ came to restore the dried out play-doh.
He came to restore His image into us.
And yet, we still run in search of our own image. We find other things to categorize us. All we want. All we desire. Is to find something bigger-than-ourselves to categorize us. We need to be found in something. And since God is no golden calf, we put ourselves in the hands of everything else but God-Creator. Problems arise. Unsatisfaction takes hold. Where JOY in God-Creator once existed. Now BITTERNESS remains. Where PEACE once stood. Now ANGER resides. Where LOVE was given. Now SELFISHNESS is all that is left. What once was created GOOD. Cannot escape being BAD. And HARD. And GROSS.
Two examples of things existing outside of their purpose: hard play-doh and sinful man.
Here is hope.
"It cost God plenty to get you out of that dead-end, empty-headed life you grew up in. He paid with Christ's sacred blood, you know. He died like an unblemished, sacrificial lamb. And this was no afterthought. Even though it has only lately--at the end of the ages--become public knowledge, God always knew he was going to do this for you. It's because of this sacrificed Messiah, whom God then raised from the dead and glorified, that you trust God, that you know you have a future in God. Now that you've cleaned up your lives by following the truth, love one another as if your lives depended on it. Your new life is not like your old life. Your old birth came from mortal sperm; your new birth comes from God's living Word. Just think: a life conceived by God himself!"
"They called him every name in the book and he said nothing back. He suffered in silence, content to let God set things right. He used his servant body to carry our sins to the Cross so we could be rid of sin, free to live the right way. His wounds became your healing. You were lost sheep with no idea who you were or where you were going. Now you're named and kept for good by the Shepherd of your souls."
What kind of play-doh are you?
What kind do you want to be?
If I am honest with myself. Lately I have been the hard, gross kind.
The words set free are stuck like bad plumbing in my mind right now. These words strum a cord on the guitar that is my heart. This dry chunk of play-doh just wants to be soft again. Oh to be soft again.
Play-Doh: Modeling Compound.

You Ate What You Are...Rrrrrrrrrr

Have you ever heard the phrase: "You are what you eat?" This phrase always confused me. I would watch people eat at restaurants and NOTHING ever happened to them. No great transformation would take place before my eyes. They just did not change into their food. They were people. They were eating food. "Maybe it takes some time to effect a person," I would think to myself.
If you stop and think about it, doesn't the opposite actually happen? For example, a really plump, juicy cheeseburger (with extra cheese -- STOP it Nat, you're making yourself hungry) seemed so much like happy food that the noises coming from the bathroom stalls shortly afterward never seemed to match up with the phrase. That burger was good. The results were not so pretty. Hmmmmmm...(I'm just gonna go grab a cheeseburger while I think on this some more... be back soon).
Before I go any further, I should probably tell you that this post has nothing to do with any weight loss programs. I am not trying to sell anything. I don't intend to make you feel bad about the extra large slice of cheesecake nestled sweetly (no direct pun intended) between your thumb and fingers. I see it. Don't panic. I won't tell anyone. Except for maybe your health care physician. No, I'm just kidding. I'm just a big kidder. Ok... back to the topic at hand.
Switching gears a little (don't worry, I will bring the cheeseburger... uhhh, I mean phrase back into this post). An interesting thing happened tonight. I was sitting at this very computer, listening to one of my favorite bands -- Relient K, when my phone rings. It turns out to be my buddy Steve. He explains that this is short notice, but he wants to invite me to a guy's worship time on the Hope Campus... happening basically right now. To understand why this matters, earlier today I was recounting to my friend Paul some of the feelings that I have been struggling with over the course of the summer and on into the school year. An overwhelming feeling of loneliness gripped my heart this summer and refuses to totally let go. And I told Paul how I needed to find a place where I can feel safe and be accepted and where I can be poured into, as well as pour into others. That was just this afternoon. Today. Like... a few hours before this phone call. Keep up with me... so I told Steve that I would appreciate going along.
So fast-forward to arriving at Durfee Hall, on Hope's Campus. I settled into my big comfy couch, wedged nicely between two strange guys. Name introductions begin the night off. Fourteen guys. Five couches. Two beanbags. One room. Not having to wear a funky nametag: priceless. The conversation gets rolling. Good stuff. Healings. Struggles. Last minute Jesus-embraces. Prayer breaks out thanks to the Spirit's leading in my friend Steve. And KAABLAAAAM! That is fun to type, just so you know. Thoughts in my head wander to our phrase: "You are what you eat." No, I wasn't thinking about food. At least not up until that point. A conviction began to well up inside me, like the water pressure becoming too great for a dam to hold back its fierce power. I am listening to these guys -- men, real men -- just praising God and acknowledging His Power to do anything He wants. Even using a nothing person to heal (yes, like a physical healing of somebody's body). My soul was reaching out. Trying to find itself at the same place these men around me are at. But my mind and heart and soul, which we are commanded to love the Lord our God with all of, have been eating all the wrong food lately. We're not talking Fudge Rolls, Pizza, or Salad with lots of Ranch dressing. I am talking about selfishness, negativity, anger, worry, and conceitedness. But mostly selfishness. And as a result, my relationship with the Creator of everything we see has been pooping out some nasty things. I have not been myself. I have not been focused on the right thing: GOD, YAHWEH, LORD, HEALER, SAVIOR, CREATOR! I have not been drawing my food from Him, the Source of Life. I have not been living a life of praise. I have been so self-centered that I could barely remember how to praise tonight.
So now I want to remember how to praise. I want to live my life as a song to the Lord. I want to honor Him with all that I do, fully aware of my inability to live up to this. And that is part of what I was reminded of tonight. "Hey, Nat, you are not perfect. Stop trying to act like you are too worthy of a person to be going through what you're going through." Because the fact is: I am a mess up. And that is what God is going to use way more than the self-righteous Pharisee I had become. God uses screw ups. Jesus came to heal the sick (Matthew 9). Let's just face it: If you are not sick, you do not need a doctor. There is no point in spending the copay if something is not a little off. But I have been sick. I have become what I have been eating: JUNK!
I need to begin a diet shift. I need to sit myself down at the table of the Lord.
Papa, I need your food. I need to live out life-praise to you! I need to see. I need to focus on you. Help me to focus on you alone. May the odor of my heart-life be pleasing to you, an aroma to delight your senses. Goodnight, Papa.
Goodnight everyone.

Hole.

Hole.

I see you there.

What do I care.

I have tried.

Too many times.

Too many shapes.

Too many sizes.

To fill you up.

To close you in.

But nothing ever seems to fit.

Yet still I grab.

For more and more.

For things that never ever.

Could endure.

They come and go.

They push and pull.

All trying to fill my hole.

Boys.

Girls.

Dolls.

Cars.

Fantasies.

Friends.

Food.

Theology.

Relativism.

Lusts.

Money.

Music.

Clothes.

Plastic.

Self.

All have left me empty.

With nothing but a scar.

Still they try.

Again and again.

To come back.

And help a "friend."

But I am done.

I want no more.

I am finished.

Walking out the door.

Here He comes.

He is almost near.

Barely I can hear.

The sound of One whispering.

In my ear.

"I have come.

Simply.

To be.

The puzzle piece.

That you seek.

Stop trying other things.

And you will quickly see.

That I.

Yes, it is Me.

Only I fit perfectly."

Healing.

You say that you're hurting
You say that you're breaking
But where have you turned
For the healing?

I know of One
A great Doctor of curing
One who only treats those
Who are ailing.

His card, it is reading
"I am the One
Who endured the beating,
So your pain would be fleeting."

If you come kneeling
With your heart bleeding
He will begin
The remedying.

He does this first
By forgiving
Then he begins
The repairing.

Piece by piece
He is beginning
To mend
What you have been feeling.

Now that you are knowing
Now that you have come reeling
He promises to live with you
In the never-ending.

Welcome to the healing.

"Dirty-Mouthed" Squirrel and His Nuts...

What a beautiful day! I couldn't believe it. It was actually too warm to wear even a long-sleeve shirt. Since it was so nice, I decided to get out of the office. I didn't even go in until right now. I met with some people this morning at the local coffee shop, JP's. I spent some "Couch Time With God," reading in Ecclesiastes and Mark.
It was nice to just sit and be quiet. I am learning a new appreciation for quietness. I turn my stereo off in the car when I drive, so that I can spend that time trying to talk with my Savior. I don't open Windows Media Player on my office computer right away anymore when I arrive, although I do have some Andy Hunter playing right now. I am learning to take advantage of the quietness. And I have found that in the quietness, I can actually FOCUS. Sometimes when we are surrounded by noise and other senses-stimulating activities it can be hard to listen or see a God who most times chooses less senses-stimulating ways to arouse us or communicate with us. We then complain about not hearing Him or seeing Him the way we like or know. When, in truth, it is our own doing -- we drowned Him out. Oh, how often this happens!
On this gorgeous day, I went for a walk. I walked around Hope College and the surrounding downtown Holland area. This is always a time of refreshment for me. A time for movement of my limbs. A chance for my skin to feel wind gently moving by. It was from my walk today that I draw the inspiration for this writing...
Although I have seen them numerous times before, I noticed the squirrels today a little more than usual. This weekend could very well be the last "nice" weekend we have before the cold breaks. And the squirrels... seemed to know what was up (smart little furry creatures). They were everywhere. They seemed frantic. Moving. Running. Sniffing. Collecting. I have never seen such fast-paced work before in my life, not even from humans. Most of the squirrels refused to acknowledge my existence. Except for one little guy (or girl I suppose...I admit I did not check) who threw his entire body over a hole in the tree where, presumably, he had stored up for himself a nut-harvest quite plentiful. He took one long look at me and began uttering an array of inappropriate "squirrel lingo" as I approached. Apparently, I looked hungry. If only we could have sat and chatted things out. I would have told him that tree nuts do not sit right with my digestive system (it does all kinds of "squirrely" things). But he was adamant that I just keep walking by.
Seeing those little fur-balls work as they did, I've had all kinds of thoughts running through my head tonight. Crazy thoughts. Random thoughts. One of these such thoughts brought me to the passage in Matthew 6:19-21, "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." What does it mean to store up treasure on earth? What does it mean to store up treasure in Heaven? Read Matthew 5:1-2 for the context of this passage and then jump over to chapter 6:19-24. Look at what Jesus is teaching the people. He is answering a question that perhaps they did not even realize they needed to know the answer to: What really matters?
All the squirrels have ever known is survival. It is how God wired them. They know when the season is about to change. How difficult it will be for finding food. So they work their fluffy little tails off to store up a food pantry for the winter. A survival kit. They shift into 6th gear and vrooooooom! they are off. Nothing else seems to matter. They are driven. They are intense. They are trying to survive.
Imagine that every grocery store in the country closed their doors from November 1st till March 1st. The store's reason for this is that it is not safe for transporting food products in the snowy conditions. The shelves are cleared. The doors boarded up. What do you think would happen? Can you picture the video shot, captured by store cameras, as it airs on the NBC 10 o'clock news of what stores were like on October 31st? Do you think people might be a little panicky? What if we felt the same urgency with the message of the Kingdom of God? What if we worked so intensely for storing up treasures in Heaven? What if I began to really see the harvest as being plentiful, as Jesus said it was? And what if the urgency I felt made my life's mission those around me who live in the darkness of the world, separated from the grace and truth of God. My Papa.
This brings me to the next point: How far away from their home do you think the squirrels travel to find their nuts? I do not claim to be any kind of squirrely person (uh...I mean squirrel expert), but I bet the squirrels do not have a very large traveling radius. They stay close to where they know. They just have to be intentional where they are at. And our radius isn't that large either. We should not have to look very far to see the people around us that still need to know. We just need to be intentional. We are not called to worry about food for the winter. We are called to be disciples of Jesus Christ. We are called to be witnesses of God's realness. His activeness in this world. God is calling all the hungry. He is calling us out to feed the world. And I am not talking about physically, although this is one part of the calling. But God is calling us to be feeders of the greatest message of all time: "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life" -John 3:16 and "He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness, by his wounds you have been healed" -1 Peter 2:24. Food for the soul. The nuts and bolts of why Christ came.

A Man's (Cold) Story: The Underside of a Pillow

I want to tell you a little story. This is a story about a man. Now this man has seen many things happen in his life. Many changes have occurred. During this man's high school years, he had grown very close to God. He fell in love with God's Word. He wanted to read it. He wanted to understand God better and knew that the only way he could was to read more of God's Word. He understood that on every page, within every sentence, every word, God was making Himself known. This man began to see God's personality beautifully displayed on the pages. And he felt closer to God than ever before. He was learning. He was seeing. He was feeling. He was not without his difficult moments. He had his ups and downs. But these only served to drive him more to reading the Word. He read pages every day that filled him with hope and wonder and strength for the day. He pushed himself to read the Word cover-to-cover over a period of a year and a half. He needed to know what it said. He knew that there was more to life than what he saw everyday.
This man had many amazing things happen to him. He got involved in a coffee house ministry near his home where he met incredible people. These people had so many stories to tell. They were so honest. Real. They pushed the man to want to know more. They asked him tough questions about God and faith. He needed to know more. He continued to read. To learn. To study. To understand. The words on the pages became life within the man.
One summer, the man goes away to work with kids. The kids were so alive. They had so many great things to say and questions to ask. Dull moments were hard to find. Although he was physically exhausted each day, he found rest in continuing his reading. The God who had been revealed through the Word was becoming real in the moment-by-moment experiences of life. His God-tank was filled everyday.
The man, after the summer ended, got a job at a retail store. It was sometimes boring work. But very quickly, the man came to really appreciate those he worked with. They were real. Many did not know God. This pushed the man to want to know even more. He studied more. He learned more. He understood more. He was growing. And he was used. God used the man in the life of one of the people he worked with. God was working in this other person's life. Many nights of closing up the store together allowed the two to talk about God. The other person had questions. The other person had never read God's Word. The man bought this other person a Word of their own. The other person began reading. The other person began to have questions answered. The other person came to love God and God's Word like the man. The other person's family now knows God too. More pages of the Word became real to the man.
Some time goes by. The man now works in an office. He sits in front of a computer screen for many hours a day. The man becomes very busy. He has many other things to think about. Responsibilities to take care of. His Word sits on his desk. He looks at it from time to time. He wants so much to open it and read it. He wants to study it. He wants to understand it. He wants the deep need to return. He slips. He feels so far away from God. All he wants is to be with God again. To know God again. To study God's personality. To understand God. But he is busy. So many other thoughts take up space in the man's mind. He does not have time for God's Word. To read it. To study it. To understand it. He slips more. His head still knows of God. But his deeper knowing of God and His realness are slipping. He cannot see God anymore. Feel God. Understand God. The once passionate, nutrients-filled relationship is suffocated.
The man now sits in his office typing a story about a man who is himself. The man realizes that he cannot see, feel, or understand God because the once life-giving Word sits cold on his desk. The connection is made. Just as the man cannot know what hot feels like unless he has touched something hot. So too, the man cannot know God unless he reads God's Word and studies it. And the man knows that because God is so beyond words to describe, this reading and studying and understanding must be an ongoing life activity.
The man sitting in his office writing the story about a man who is himself has relearned something today. You cannot see God without looking through the glasses that God has given. God appears fuzzy and small without these glasses. The Word is the glasses God has given. The man needs to read it again. He needs to study it again. He needs to understand it again. Otherwise, he will never again see or feel God.

A Sunrise of the Fourth Age

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." -James 1:2-4
This past Sunday, the leaders in the church announced to the congregation that the consistory and pastoral search team had extended a call to a new minister (actually a husband-wife ministry team). A process that began 18-months ago is now finally coming to a near close. The husband and wife combo will be coming to preach in two weeks. They have two young daughters and are coming from out-of-state. But the point of all this is to say that a new age has arrived. This couple will bring with them a whole new look at ministry. They will come in with fresh glasses. They bring experience, enthusiasm, and passion.
I am ready for this change. The past few months have been kicking my soul's butt. I have felt the need to always be on guard. And I have felt the weight of a heavy yoke. But God is working on my character development. He is teaching me perseverance. I am asking, from Him, for a spirit of contentment.

It Is Well With My Soul(ja Boy) ... and something about invading (aliens)

I have a lot that I could talk about tonight. Many thoughts going through my head.
Question: what is community? Seriously. What is community? What is Biblical community? I went to a dance last Saturday night at Hope College. I didn't really go hoping to find an answer to this question. (It was the most fun I've had in a long time.) Anyway, looking around the room, I began to notice something. Something strange was taking place. All around the room little pockets of people stood together enjoying the simple fact that they were around each other. And these pockets moved together around the room. Maybe for a brief moment they would leave to get a drink or snack and then they would all return together to the dance floor and resume their "bringing sexy back."
I had my own little pocket of people to be with. And yes, we moved around together. And you felt totally comfortable within your pocket to do whatever your body would allow. You were safe. Everyone else around you was moving crazy and perhaps even a "little strange" too. You could be yourself on the floor -- reserved, random, absolutely insane, goofy, weird. It was a place of acceptance. And honestly, who doesn't want a place where they can be accepted for who they are? It was a glimpse into community.
I have many questions regarding what true community is. I have always struggled with understanding community. I have always felt like I was on the outside looking in on experiencing it, genuinely. I do know that there are many parts to it. And the dance helped my mind to grasp a little better this idea of "feeling safe." This is just one part of community. And this part can happen in the secular world, the structured church, and is vital to a healthy gathering of those living in relationship with Christ.
Then tonight... God opened my eyes to another important part of community. The piece the secular world is missing, even the structured church in many respects. Genuineness. In the last few months I have been on a roller coaster ride of feelings: depression, frustration, confusion, and uneasiness. People have started asking questions. They have been intervening. I have seen intentionality. Earnestness. But tonight something about it seemed preplanned, or rather orchestrated. I went to the Gathering at Hope College (a Sunday-night worship service for students at Hope College). It happens every week and I have been attending for almost a year now. After a message and communion, there is always a time of smaller-based, passionate singing. I am standing in a row with two of my students, feeling soul-numb and just not in the mood to sing, when a fellow youth pastor friend of mine, Rob, comes and seeks me out. We're just starting a new song when he purposefully comes and stands by me and grabs me by the arm and back of my head and right there in the middle of the worship begins just praying for me. An intense prayer. A heartfelt prayer. Praying against the worries and burdens. Praying for healing and restoration and joy. I am taken aback. And to make things more interesting, the song now playing is, It Is Well With My Soul, a personal favorite of mine. The words of that song run so deep within me, that it always finds a way to bring my heart to its knees. Having these words ringing out in the background during the prayer with Rob made my spine shiver. Thoughts begin pouring through my head. I feel the straps around my wrists begin loosing. I feel pound after pound of emotional fat begin to melt away. After the prayer, my first thought is: "why don't we feel comfortable being this to each other on Sunday mornings?" Why don't we feel safe (there is that word again) to invade each others lives on a week-by-week basis? For many in churches around the country, you may only get an hour together on Sunday morning. Are we truly living in community with each other for that single hour? Is this even possible? And do we really want to or know how to really be a community of believers? So I challenge you today with this: is weekly "meeting time" church serving to build up a community of believers completely devoted to Christ in their life and in the lives of others around them? If the answer is no. How do we, the Bride of Christ, raise up from the ashes an in-relationship-with-God-centered, safe, genuine fellowship? Read Acts 2:42-47, 4:23-37, 5:12-42. These are just some of the passages that God has used to walk me down the hard road of looking at the way we were "doing" church. Passages that made me question whether we were supposed to be "doing" church at all. No where in the Bible does it ever talk about the once-a-week gathering at a church "facility" where you listen to one person preach a prepared message and sing songs to the music of a prepared worship band or pianist/organist. These are just a portion of my thoughts. But it is late now and I will turn in for the night.
Goodnight.

Birthday Thanks...

So today is my birthday. I will be 22-years old as of 7:43pm. This is not a big jump. Nothing like at 13 (no more trying to be cool like a teenager, now you are one), 16 ("sixteen candles...."), 18 (officially legal to buy cigarettes, lotto tickets, make it into any movie, and by default earn the title "adult"), or 21 (well, we all know what comes with this one...). 22 is just a new age. But I really want to thank those of you who are helping to make the day a celebration.
Later today, I get to hang out with some really cool people. I'll be going to the Hope Homecoming football game and the dance following. I guess I was asked to the dance by 4 ladies. So I'll be their male escourt. Woooohooo! But I just wanted to thank you for helping to make this day special. Every new age of a person's life is a new opportunity for God to grow you in wisdom and gray hairs. And I do want wisdom. I look forward to wisdom. To gaining wisdom. The Bible talks about the wisdom of a person quite often. It even becomes personified in Proverbs. I know that things have been a little rough lately. But I do appreciate what you're doing. And I know this day will be whatever I allow it to be.

Thank you, Father, for blessing me with 22-years on this earth. Thank you for blessing me with people who care enough to go out of their way to do something nice for me. And I ask you Father that you would give me joy again. I just want your joy again. Amen-

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.