Eclapsed: A Movie Review

Eclipse.

Third in the celebrated Twilight book series.

 Grossed over $300 million at the worldwide box office.

Watched last night.

My sister got it for Christmas.

Though not a fan of the series, I have been intrigued by the overnight success of the books and witnessed, as a youth pastor, the instant impact it was having on young minds. I read New Moon two years ago and couldn't wait to put it down. I found the books absolutely repulsive, simply because of the first person, Bella Swan, writing style. Not to mention the whiny nature of her reason and thoughts. But I have already gotten off track.

The movies have proved to be slightly more bearable. I can watch them without wanting to shove a cough depressor up my mouth, most of the time. My youngest sister, Toria, discovered the books a couple years ago and, as I understand it, devoured the four books. As the movies have been making their way to the theaters and unto DVD (for every living room in the America to enjoy) we have been supporting her interest in them. She has received the newest addition on DVD each year. This Christmas, being no different, meant the arrival of Eclipse into our home. I, having not seen it, asked last night if the girls would want to stay up late and watch it with me.

Stage set. Comfy chair settled into. Room dark, save for light from TV. Insert movie. Press play. Enjoy.

I hadn't heard very much about this newest movie. I knew it came out this past summer and from trailers appeared to have some fairly intense scenes (I mean, come on... vampires walking out of a lake, with music about to crescendo... you know that peaked your interest a little). A few people told me the movie was a let down. Still not enough fighting, especially between the vamps and the wolves, they said. I don't think we will ever tire of fight scenes between two mythical creatures. Anyway, if for no other reason than its cultural importance, I was excited to see what might unfold.

Mostly predictable; it is Bella Swan after all. We can expect nothing less than a lot of awkward staring, heavily dramatic (almost laughable) lines, that I'm-a-chihuahua-and-can't-help-but-shake-a-little-while-I'm-wishing-you-would-kiss-me intensity which has made Kristen Stewart famous, and more recently the back and forth game between Edward and Jacob. There were still a lot of glowing red eyes. Big dogs. Annoying high school friends. A father/sheriff who can't seem to do anything right. And that classic disliking of Bella by Rosalie (sadly now we know where it comes from). There remained the pack/gang of Indian boys walking around (everywhere) shirtless. That great old pick-up of Bella's still runs. And Edward still sneaks into Bella's bedroom every night to lie beside her.

There were some new aspects which I had not seen or noticed in the two previous films:

• We finally managed to see Victoria up close, to find her no longer sprinting through the woods like George of the Jungle. Though here I must add my disappointment that they changed actors for this Victoria (thanks Ron Howard for giving Hollywood your pale-white daughter with eyes far too large for her face). Bryce just wasn't believable. She lacks the intensity and anger of the previous Victoria (a real tragedy of the film). 
• My other qualm was more expected yet also more shocking. Some of the inadvertently advert messages. The worldview clearly flowed in such things as the Valedictorian speech by Jessica, Bella in Edward's bedroom (I will get to Edward's part in that soon), etc. Jessica rants for probably 2 minutes about how as high schoolers they need to be making as many mistakes as possible; to fall in love as many times as they want. It was as if the voice of the culture of our teenagers had just spoken, finally opening her big mouth, admitting what we already knew but still shocking us with the actual reasoning of their choices. Be as stupid as you want right now, because all will be forgiven you when you're 70 and you somehow arrived at wisdom. Don't think about what you're doing. Just do. Keep doing. Don't attempt to learn from what you're doing until you're much older. We knew this stuff was happening, yet to hear it expressed so flippantly, to hear it actually expressed at all, paints a rather dismal picture. Millions of youth around the world heard the same speech I did. Only most of them with less filters in their thinking, soaking up the words and going home to live it out. It was a bold move on the part of the producers. Like revealing your hand of cards in a poker game, they just gave something big away. If I had been a teen in a theater watching, I would have stood up and started yelling, "NO NO! MUTE IT... TURN IT OFF... THEY'LL BE ONTO US. LA LA LA LA LA!" Parents might just hear Jessica's words and say something to their kids. Then again, probably not, right?
• I don't have to say much about Bella's worldview regarding sex and relationships. She's made hints to it in the first two films. I had just never heard her be so direct, calling Edward's intent not to sleep with her "ancient." Her looks of confusion, hurt, and near-disgust with his refusal to budge on the issue were crystal clear and sending mighty words to young girls, wishing with every ounce of their being to be more like her, to dress like her, talk like her, think like her, themselves hoping a vampire and werewolf might fight over them. 

 A book written to be an intriguing story for teens, to be entertaining, just got duped into becoming secular humanist propaganda. With both the speech and Bella's rant, a message much deeper than choosing between a werewolf and vampire was conveyed.

Right here, I do want to add my thoughts about Edward's words back to Bella in that bedroom scene. I like the guy. More and more. Apart from his own awkward staring and absolute obsession, he's a great guy. And I truly appreciate his stance on sex. Despite how clearly he wants to be with her, he wants more to respect her, to treat her as he knows best. Coming from an earlier period, when relationships were "less complicated" and couples courted (with rules and boundaries defined), he shared with her how a respectful guy would navigate a relationship. Apart from perhaps "stealing a kiss or two," he would take walks with her, they would get to know each other, and when the time was right would go first to the father and ask his permission to marry her. Despite the many years he had seen pass, little of this was lost on him. Sure, he and Bella have stolen a few more than two kisses, they share a bed many nights (fully clothed), and he proposes before asking Bella's father for permission, yet his desire to respect her physically is the most redeeming aspect to the entire series. This is the way it is supposed to be. This is how God designed relationships to function. Hearts and bodies are best protected through patience. The passions of sex are meant to be fed and felt only within the difficult work of commitment to one person. Here, they can grow and remain properly placed in regards to the relationship as a whole.
Edward... YOU THE MAN... THE DEAD, COLD, BLOOD-DRINKING MAN... BUT THE MAN NONETHELESS!

To conclude, the movie offered us much of the classic whiny and wide-eyed Bella, the obsessed Edward, the immature and bare-chested Jacob, the red-headed Victoria, the father trying to do his best, and the frequent fields of flowers which have made young girls yell and squeal uncontrollably, guys to wonder what they might look like without a shirt on in a movie, women to wish their husbands would still look at them the way Edward does Bella, and men to find new inspiration to clean the garage. The movie gave us a couple descent fight scenes. A great old pick-up. People walking out of a lake. And a worldview which should both cause concern and could lead to some great conversations between parents and their teens. If only the parents would show a little courage and interest.

Not That You Care But...

Been far too long since I last wrote anything. I am not even quite sure what to say at this point to get anyone up to speed.
So much has happened in these nearly 10 months since I last wrote. Here is my bullet-point list to make it easier for both of us:

• Colorado happened. Summit Ministries beckoned me there.
• Pike's Peak happened twice. My first 14er peaked. 
• A relationship budded. Molly you have been a blessing.
• I added a Toyota to the list of cars I have owned. 150k and still driving strong. 
• I attended Summit Semester in Pagosa Springs, CO. Learned to think. Thought to learn. Made lasting friendships. Hung out with the venerable Dr. Bauman.
• I am reading a 600-page biography on Bonhoeffer. Does that make me a hipster? 
• Made the decision to go back to school. English Lit. or History? How about the History of English Lit? 
• I have not lived in anymore buses. Sad, I know. 
• Oh, I traveled to Texas for the first time. Abilene. 
• I spent a day at the Grand Canyon. Bushwhacked my way down the canyon side with some friends. That was memorable. It is more than just a big hole. 
• I have added 6 new states to my "My Feet Have Walked There" list since I last wrote. Texas. Oklahoma. New Mexico. Arizona. Colorado. Nebraska. 
• My faithful Acer computer pooped out on me. I now have a cheep-O Lenovo thing. That Acer and I were friends for more than 5 years!
• I saw my first bear. Pretty close up. Like 10ft. Won't forget that one.
• I can no longer digest any dairy. Or most other foods currently. Makes life interesting. 

That is just a short list of the things I could think of. Hopefully I will begin to write again. I need to. I want to. Until next time...

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.

The "How'd It Go"

I wanted to let everyone know how the interview went.
The phone rang around 5:02pm CT. I picked up and stole away to the furthest bedroom in the house from all the commotion - Victoria's bedroom.
The gentleman's voice rang out a "hello" and so it began.
We exchanged small talk about his wife growing up in Iowa and sharing various locations within Iowa we were both familiar with. From there, we moved into the questions. There were five main questions asked. Mostly normal, predictable questions for an interview. I attempted to answer the questions barrage with as much honesty and genuineness as I could. I wanted them to know what I was going to bring to their team. I did my best over the phone. It must be difficult for staffers to build a solid team without ever meeting the members.
Now, the wait begins. I was given a mid-March timetable to hear back. I am excited to find out. It is in God's faithful hands. No better place to be.
That's all I have for now. Thanks for reading on...

Summit

Big day tomorrow. I have an interview with Summit Ministries. A summer conference/camp for high school and college-aged students to learn about and discuss the Christian worldview. It is a phone interview. I don't like talking on the phone. If you think about it, please be praying around 5pm as I will be sitting down with a white, cordless phone and trying to be real with a complete stranger.
But this job means a lot to me. Not so much the place in particular, but the experience. The challenge. The adventure. The newness. Summit is based out of Boulder, CO. I want to run, skip, and stand in the presence of those mighty mountains.
Please just keep me in your thoughts tomorrow at 5pm Central time. I'll try to keep everyone updated on how things go.

Day Dreams and Catching Up

Hi.
Been awhile.
I haven't written this entire year yet.
I suppose the words haven't been there.
Neither has the motivation to try.
But I feel the need returning.

I remember when I first signed on to blogger. I had these crazy ideas/dreams of big things happening. I figured people all over the country would stumble across my blog and this incredible movement might start. Right here. Looking back, I just laugh at my pathetic self for thinking such thoughts.

I've always been a day-dreamer. My mind constantly skipping about, always finding another world to exist within. I was one who could sit under a cloud-filled sky for hours and unchain my mind to explore those puffs of water-filled molecule masses. I was the guy who played in rock bands before thousands of screaming fans. Played for championship basketball teams and got interviewed after the game by an attractive journalist. Oh, and offered passionate sermons in front of a crowd eating up my every witty and spirit-filled word. All from the comforts of my bathroom mirror. I don't quite understand why it happens. I just know it happens. And it has been happening more often. Why do we day-dream? Is it healthy? Is it healthy to not be living in the here? To repeatedly make up a world in our minds, a world where we are in charge and control everything that takes place? Are my day-dreams trying to make up for something I subconsciously believe are lacking in my life? I am not sure. I just feel they are beginning to hinder my life. To hinder how I see myself and how I view the world around me. Because... in real time... I am not in control. I am so removed from control. I want to start seeing this world, this life through new eyes. To live in the here. Not selfishly as the secular world might. But just to be present in the here so that I can experience everything God is doing here.
The world in my day-dreams, I control.
The world in real life, God retains abundant power over.
I need to leave things in His hands.

Random thoughts on this Super Sunday:
Well done Saints. Well done. You believed well. You overcame your opponents. You made some risky plays. You fought hard. You got back up when you were knocked down. You made some mistakes. You learned from those mistakes. You played your game. I think we all could take a lesson from you. Because, honestly, I want to hear God's rumbling voice say the same thing to me someday. So well done Saints. Well done.

500 Miles Later: The Flint Hills and What I Learned Along The Way

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I am about to open my journal once again. This was recorded over a two-day period back in November. The words of a man searching and journeying to far-reaching, never before visited lands. Please be careful. Fasten your seat belt. And please keep your feet inside this blog at all times. Here goes...

11/8/09
Dear Papa,
Sometime after 11am. Sitting at a rest stop, basking in the sunny skies above. Beautiful day for a drive, but that is not why I am here. I have traveled 150 miles so far, in my forest green Saturn wagon. My destination is not the point, but I do hope to make it to El Dorado, Kansas, sometime before the sun begins its trek downward to its resting place for the evening.
A good breeze blows its imaginary tricks against tree limbs laid bare from unconditionally cold days past. It has been a cold Fall, and today may be the last chance to sit at a picnic table with no jacket and feel the sun hard against my back and neck. The freeway behind me roars and growls as semi's, fancy sports cars out for one final "Hooraaay!," minivans chucked full of antsy kids on their way to visit Grandma for Sunday lunch, and any other wayward travelers pound hard against its concrete and asphalt veins. And I am here to breathe. To step away from the little country house where I live with my family. I need to get away from those four walls and from such noisy inventions as TV and computers. I have been crumbling these past few months. Like this road behind me, so much mental traffic has destroyed my once smooth, quiet ability to think straight. I am confused about everything it seems. And I want to hear Your voice. To listen loudly to what You've been trying to say. I need help opening my heart to whatever You want to say and do.
I intend to drive to Kansas, spend the evening seeing the Flint Hills, quieting myself while surrounded by new beauty, begin heading back yet tonight, and sleeping at a rest stop in my car. I have never done so before. Tomorrow I finish my drive back to Iowa and work at 5pm.
Let me hear You, please. Help me make sense of the mess. Keep me safe. Fill me with joy!
Every moment, if we're seeing, words on invisible pages are being written down, filled with every thought, every sight which You have ordained before creation for us.
My journey continues...
12:32pm. I have made it to Missouri! Never been here before. South of Des Moines and Hwy-80, the land in Iowa shifts to rolling hills of corn fields and pasture. The freeway winds its way up and down and around the little hills. Now here in Missouri, the rolling continues, but the bed has changed from farmland to livestock pasture. Beautiful hues of green climb their way around the hills, like two lovers enjoying a night of God-designed passion on their honeymoon.
The temp continues to inch up the thermometer. A warm breeze now moves along, tickling the grass and brush. These jeans may prove to be too much by the time I lay hold of Kansas. However, they will come in handy tonight sleeping in the car.
My mind still does not comprehend this trip. The radio has remained off since leaving Grundy County, IA. My thoughts seem stuck in hiding, as if to say they do not yet trust to come out - like a young boy hiding from a thunderstorm, not yet ready to accept its passing. It is still cloudy up there (talking about my mind). Still my soul feels grasping for air.
But I will continue...
3:36pm. I have been driving now through Kansas for over an hour. I am sitting at a rest area near Ottawa, KS, along Hwy-35. Clouds have moved in, and a chilly breeze sweeps along the prairie. That is all I have seen so far - prairies with cattle grazing. So far little to write home about. The sun is going down and soon I will lose any ability to see the land around. I still hope to catch a glimpse of the Tallgrass Flint Hills. We'll see...
Not sure the time. Nor do I care. I am sitting on a stone wall, overlooking a sunset preceded in beauty by only the hills which roll, rise, and dip, playing tag with one another. Browned Tallgrass surrounds me. It is peaceful here. The only sounds coming from the occasional car passing behind me, a tempered wind blowing in from the Gulf, and crickets... singing their praises to the One who created them. Thanking Him for making them. It had become dreary for much of the drive through Kansas. But as I approached these hills, it was as if the sky opened up only to show off the beauty! As if to say: "Hey, look what I can do!"
To think... I was in Iowa this morning! Never before have I driven so far west. Or south.
There is much yet for me to do. I have made it to my destination, yet still there are thoughts to wrestle with. I am in awe of where I sit. But that is the extent of what I know right now.
How did I get to this point? Where have I been and where am I going?
Papa, help me to make sense of this mess. Do whatever it takes. Meet me here, on this trip. Why do I not feel You? How can I know You?
The sun chases away the coldness during its peak hours of the day. And now... the coldness fights its way back, with each passing moment of the sun's journey downward. You have your paintbrush out! This sunset is breathtaking! Purples, pinks, blues, oranges - all stretch themselves across a light blue backdrop. It is amazing how a few clouds enhance the beauty of the scene! Like fire in the sky, that is what I am seeing! It is getting colder. My nose begins to water. Yet even this coolness is refreshing.
Sometime around 7pm. Sitting in a Subway Restaurant in El Dorado, KS. I made it. Wasn't sure I would. With the creeping darkness, hides lurking animals ready to pounce into your path. It is a scary thing - hitting a deer. I wish not to experience it again - not here, not now. I am eating a Buffalo Ranch Chicken footlong sub. Food tastes good. From here, I head back - back onto 54 and, turning north, the long journey along 177. 177 is the route which cuts its way through the Flint Hills. The route which makes the little hairs on the backside of my neck stand on end. El Dorado is a cute town. They have a whole line of places to eat and seem rooted in some sort of history.
From here on out, I don't feel rushed. I am no longer in a race against the sun. However far I can make it yet tonight will, Lord willing, put me that much closer to home. As I sit in this green booth, looking out a pane of glass at the traffic moving aimlessly about, I begin to ask myself why I came? Why did I leave this morning? What has it gained me? Why do we always have to ask that question? I have seen two new states. I looked upon a most beautiful horizon, full of color and wordless-cut hills, bouncing about like a child with too much energy.
Papa, the thoughts are not coming. The clear-headedness not arriving as scheduled. I need to feel at peace. To rest in You. Help me to do that. To make sense of all the thoughts which have been. To understand who I am. To know You. To feel You. To move beyond all the comforts, into a realm of the unknown life lived in the Known. So again, why am I here? What did I drive all the way to Kansas to learn?
I am excited to sleep in my car tonight. To make bed and sleep. And to wake up, finding myself yet on the road, on a journey.
And so I am off - back to Iowa. It is now, at 7:19pm, that I begin. Please keep me safe.
11:10pm. I have stopped for the night. I am in Holt, MO. At a rest stop along 35N, exit 33. I am more than half way home, or at least I should be. I should only have around four and a half hours tomorrow. This is a nice little set up. I laid the back seat down, unrolled a sleeping bag for exact padding and hung a shirt from the handle above the leftside, rear door to block one parking lot light shining right into my face. One red Ford Contour is parked about 5 spaces to the north of me. I think they intend to sleep tonight as well. I feel a bit jumpy, having never done this before. For the longest time I did not even realize people did this - sleeping at a rest stop. I think it will take awhile for me to trust that any cars parked around me for an extended period of time are nothing more than fellow travelers on their own great adventure. A cell phone (void of minutes and good for only a call to 911) and a jackknife lay next to me. It is really warm in here. That may change, but for now it is bearable.
This drive home has gone much faster than the trip down. My mind distracted by staying alert and watching for those pesky deer. I had one close call back in Kansas. A deer jumped out only nearly 15 feet in front of my car. But all is well.
It has struck me, having been to various parts of the country now, just how alike people are. This really is a small world. I remember when I used to believe that people living in different states would seem so strange to me if I ever met one. That they would smell different, wear different types of clothing, even their faces starkly deformed from my own and those others blessed to call Michigan home. So I thought. So I was wrong. People are people. No matter where they call home. Even street names repeat from state to state. I drove by a Burlingame Rd. in Kansas this afternoon. You wouldn't think this to be a common name, yet a road near my Grandmother's house in Grandville, MI, is spelled the exact same way. Strange. Who copied whom, I wonder?
Kansas City smells like coffee grounds. I'm not kidding! Both times driving through, filled the car with the aroma of coffee. How hip is that? Makes me want to live there, just so I can small coffee all the time.
I will rest now. I intend to wake up and write more. Perhaps read some too from my Bible. I don't want to rush off in the morning. Goodnight.
11/9/09
Dear Papa,
7:20am. Just waking up. Definitely cooled in the night and made waking up that much harder. Everything inside you just wants to stay there, cocooned in the blanket, head nuzzled deeply into the pillow. My eyes bounced about like a child on a po-go stick. There is movement outside, as cars and trucks awaken from their slumber. I laid here with my feet pressed against the tailgate, laying somewhat sideways, and my head reaching to the back of the driver's seat. It took a few hours for my body to adjust to a base of a trunk space never designed for such an activity as sleeping - at least not for a man who extends to 6' 2''. Looking out the windshield, only one trucker remains from the night along with me. He drives a Volvo cab with a trailer reading Koch Transportation. I hope he slept well. When I woke up only a few minutes ago, the sky looked pissed - grey clouds moved about everywhere I could see. But now, they are easing back, opening up to reveal a sun also just climbing from bed, pushing back his covers, and stretching his back. Partial blue skies fill my panoramic view out 5 of the windows. It will be another great day for driving and finishing my trip. For only the second time since leaving home, the other came overlooking the Flint Hills last night, I feel a very slight peace. I feel in no hurry to leave this 33rd exit from the Kansas-Missouri border. It almost doesn't seem real that I was in Kansas yesterday. Where is Toto when you need him?
Looking out the rear window, over my legs, I see a house just past a thin line of trees. They have a couple barns and what appears to be a lot of land, all covered in a deep green grass. Livestock probably begin their daily routine of chomping on some tasty, dewy grass. That house has probably stood there long before this highway or rest area were even imagined. I wonder to myself how the family must have liked when the state bought up the land in their front yard and opened the door for careening cars and noisy trucks to barrel by their peaceful little crescent of a homestead. I wonder if their small children awoke each morning to the sound of a rooster, only to see large yellow machines destroying their playground and thinking to themselves: "Mommy is not gonna like letting us outside to play today!" I feel a bit sad for whoever must live there. Peace disrupted is annoying.
The sun is finding itself and shining bright, like a police officer's flash light, through the tailgate window. It has rewon the battle of dominance with the clouds, at least for right now. That Koch truck still remains. I hope he is dreaming sweet!
9:19am. Still sitting here at the stop. Enjoying the morning. The sun is out in full now. Beautiful day. The Koch truck yet remains. I wonder to myself: "Has this trip been a distraction from the trip?" I wonder if I focused too much on "getting there," that I paid no attention to why I left. I left to listen. To escape, although I now wonder if that is possible, and if it is, if that was my problem? I needed to clear my thoughts. I do think it has helped in those regards. I do not feel so heavy - my mind is no longer sounding as if it were the old van from Donald Miller's book, Through Painted Deserts, trying to climb a hill with a clothes-hanger holding its transmission together. I do think, however, that I had been too focused on arriving in Kansas yesterday. I have not taken time to slow down. To just be. To breathe. Isn't that how it goes though? We work and work to get somewhere. We hurry. We rush. We make bonehead mistakes. We end up stopped at a railcrossing, which we never would have had to deal with had we not missed our turnoff and had to double back, now forced to slow down, yet still in a race with an imaginary opponent. Do we even understand why we are in such a hurry? What was the point of "getting there" last night? What did I miss out on elsewhere because I was so set on seeing my destination through? Life truly is about the journey to the destination. If we cannot learn to enjoy the journey, will we ever possibly enjoy the destination? How could we, if we were rushed to arrive? If we can learn to slow down, enjoy the adventure - every little step, road, trial, sunset, sunrise, hill, annoying deer, sleeping in the backs of station wagons, coffee-smelling hip towns - then all the more glorious will the destination be. All the richer the color and hues. This is why I left. To learn this for real. I drove 500 miles to learn this truth. And also this... one needs more than just a journal for these journeys. One needs also his Bible. It felt good to read this morning. First three chapters of John. "In the beginning was the Word... the Word became flesh and lived among us." The servants at the wedding staked their life on a faith in Jesus' words - that the water WOULD become wine for the master of the banquet. What would have happened to them if they handed the man a ladle, he sips and tastes only water? What would he have done to them?
All a man needs in this life: food, water, shelter, journal, Bible, a companion, and complete trust in a living God whom he will never fully understand. One last thing a man needs: a journey to enjoy.
I continue and finish mine now.

Self Check

Who do I want to be?
This is what I need to figure out.
What does it mean to be yourself?
If the self doesn't know itself, how is it supposed to be?
What does it mean to "be?"
There are so many versions I could choose.
Which one is right? Best?

Who's There?

Hello.
I am not sure if anyone reads this blog anymore.
If by chance you do, please shoot me a line so I know who you are.
With all the social networking websites I doubt very many people even use blogs anymore.
I had a facebook for a long time. Too addicting.
I will never get a Twitter. Too hip.
I like blogging. I will stick with it. But I was just wondering who was here with me?
So I'd like to hear from you!
Have a great day!

Volleyballs Do Not Make Good Friends

Today.
I am realizing the need to move forward.
Nobody else can do this for me.
Why would I have ever thought they could?
This is between me and You now.
I suppose it always was.
Papa, it is You. This is all about You. About sifting through endless rooms of junk. Of countless distractions vying for my heart. One part of me wants to go out on my own to seek you in solitude. Another part isn't sure how, but wants to find you while still engaged in every day life. Solitude only goes so far before driving a person mad. I am sure you've seen Tom Hanks and his friend Wilson the Volleyball. Although my carefree imagination as a child afforded me friends with the likes of stuffed animals and hot wheels, each having their own unique personality, I no longer think it wise to make friends with rubber balls.
I guess I need to focus. To focus on each moment I am given. To use each moment purposefully. I need to funnel my energies. To You.
There are many things left unfinished in my life. A messy room only half cleaned is still a messy room. I want to put my hands to good use. To create. To selflessly love. I want to play guitar. To write a song. To write a book, even if it was never published. To carve simple beauty.
Motivation. Devotion. Passion. Genuineness.
Papa, please give me just what I need for the day. This is all I want. I only want what you know I need. Nothing else "does it."
Amen.

Trainwreck

Late night.
Lots of thoughts.
Heavy heart.
Wearing a grey beanie.

Sitting on the floor, Indian-style and hunched to reach this keyboard.
Bad posture.
Listening to Owl City.
Meteor Shower.
Replaying song over and over, hoping the words might seep through my skin, crawl past my ribs and around my lungs, and be welcomed into wherever that invisible heart lives. That heart which does not pump blood, beat, or attack a person, but rather is. Is the person. The being. All the characteristics and elements which make a person who he or she is. All contained somewhere deep within.
A cold chill sweeps through my navy polo shirt and grey waffle undershirt. The cold surrounds me, as if a pack of wolves had found me alone in the woods.
My thoughts make no sense.
Neither do my words.
Analogies only go so far sometimes. Doubtful C.S. Lewis always found the words to describe how he was feeling as his wife lay dying. I cannot seem to make the words come tonight. Not really sure how I am feeling. Isn't that what words are supposed to help with? But what happens when the words even fail? My apple tree is picked bare and I am starving. The doctor will not like this one bit.
Where is my foundation? What happened to the ground I thought I was standing on?
GOD... where are you? What is happening? I desperately need you! Please forgive my actions, for they betray my confidence.
Somewhere. Deep. My heart can feel you. It knows you. It struggles to understand you, but it knows you exist. It tries to give you certain personalities and physical features. You can't blame it, that is all it knows to do. It tries to fathom, I promise. I am sorry for getting so distracted. Sorry doesn't seem like enough.
I run my fingers through my blonde hair, pushing the beanie back a little.
Fireflies now plays.
My breathing is steady, controlled.
Mouth is dry.
If you're still reading this far and waiting for the plot line...
...wait, come a little closer...
*whispering* ... so am I!
Maybe sleep would be a welcome guest. Apparently Owl City hasn't slept in two days! That is what he just told me. I promise!
I don't normally write this absent-pointedly. I just needed to try. Try and say something that you could tell all your friends on facebook tomorrow. Something you would find yourself saying at strange moments in conversations with people. Those moments when you are trying to sound all "thick-rimmed black glasses." Something deeply profound. Haha. That is funny.
Ok, I will let you go now. Have fun on facebook. Tell all your friends that Nat says HI.
I will close with the words of Mat Kearney:

"Where could I turn from you
The darkest nights, you know you'd find a way
What else have I to do
What words are there left to say
You are the air that I breathe in
Here is my heart I give
You are all of my reason
You are my reason to live"

You're Looking A Little Tired Over There...

Rest.
Stop.
Be still.
The sons of Korah, speaking through the inspiration of the Spirit, write in Psalm 46:10,
"Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted. I will be exalted in Israel."
How well do we know God?
And the God that we claim to know, do we know that He is God?
What does this mean? Are you moved in your soul by your thoughts of who and what God is? Do you find yourself shrinking as the shadow He casts engulfs you more each moment, as you come to know just how massive and AWE-ful He is? It is no small deed that He at the very least CREATED YOU, is it?!
In another translation of the verse, the word "Stop" is used in place of "Be still." Literally God is telling His creation to "STOP!" "HALT!" "DON'T TAKE ANOTHER STEP UNTIL YOU CAN UNDERSTAND WHO I AM!" This is so counter to our American "Go-Fast" lives. Do we even know how to stop? Half the time we can't even obey the stop signs (have you ever pulled off the infamous "rolling stop?") while driving. Stopping is simply a waste of time.
Jesus modeled this verse many times to his onlookers. He would steal away for time alone with his Father. He would ditch the crowds and his disciples and hang out in the desert or in a grove of trees and simply be...
with his Maker.
The God who made His dwelling among us, modeled time spent with Himself to show us how important it is to "get away" from the pressures and cares and live a life knowing... well... Him. This can only happen when we pull away for a time. When we are still. When we stop. Jesus was showing us that it was not a waste of time, if the time is spent focusing on the One who made all of this for us.

And honestly, in my opinion, you could use the break.

You're looking a little tired over there.

I know I'm tired.

You must be exhausted!

Why not take a little time and just be still.

It truly can happen anywhere. I'm finding a few moments of rest while I stand next to a conveyor belt and box bottles of salad dressing. Good thing ear plugs were invented! I have begun to use moments while working to think hard about Papa, God. To get lost in thoughts of who and what He is. As it has happened, my world is drastically changed.
Throughout the Word, God wants to be known. He is making Himself known in many different ways and at different stages along the way, so as to allow no man excuse not to know Him. He was very personal with Adam and Eve -- walking and talking with them in the Garden. He made Himself very clearly known to Abraham and Sarah. He showed His power over and over to the Israelites, even going before them as a pillar of fire. He walked before Moses, allowing Him to see only His backside. He put literal words into the mouths of His prophets, so as to make His people know Him more and believe in Him.

Then...

Something happened which had not happened perhaps since the beginning of time...

He walked the earth as a man.

He wanted man to see who He was and what He was about. They had gotten so distracted and lost in the world He made for them that they forget to know Him. They forgot to revere Him. So He came. And walked. And talked. And ate. And drank. And peed. And breathed. And slept. And grew weary. He even felt pain. Intense pain. Searing pain. Pain so great that He asked His Father to take away the cup meant only for Him (meaning the business of being hung on two wooden logs, in place of our failings). He did all this that we might look to His Father, to Himself, and know that He is God alone. To rest in Him. To be still and know that He is God alone. To exalt His name above all other jumbles of words. To know. And to know in stopping. To know in being still with Him.
I am about to kill two birds with one stone, as the cliche says. I am going to send out a challenge. This challenge will be for you. And this challenge will be for me as well. I challenge us to stop. To slow down. To be still today! To step outside your current life for a moment, with all the hustle and bustle, and seek Him in the quiet. Close your eyes maybe. Keep them open if you're worried about falling asleep. Stare at the wall. Read your Bible. Look over creation all around you. But whatever you do, whatever I do, let us think on Him. For no better time spent than to spend it on the one who created time. See what happens. Do this over the course of many days, weeks, months. It will take time to reteach yourself how to stop. To not think about work. To not think about the kids or your spouse. To not think about the bills piling up on the kitchen table. Stop those thoughts for a little while. And dwell... solely... on... HIM! I'll say it once more -- see what happens.
Be still.
Stop.
Rest.

Revelation Song

Worthy is the,
Lamb who was slain
Holy, Holy, is He
Sing a new song, to Him who sits on
Heaven's Mercy Seat

Holy, Holy, Holy
Is the Lord God Almighty
Who was, and is, and is to come
With all creation I sing:
Praise to the King of Kings!
You are my everything,
And I will adore You…!
Yeah!

Clothed in rainbows, of living color
Flashes of lightning, rolls of thunder
Blessing and honor, strength and
Glory and power be
To You the Only Wise King,
Yeah

Filled with wonder,
Awestruck wonder
At the mention of Your Name
Jesus, Your Name is Power
Breath, and Living Water
Such a marvelous mystery
Yeah...

Holy, Holy, Holy
Is the Lord God Almighty
Who was, and is, and is to come,
With all creation I sing:
Praise to the King of Kings!
You are my everything,
And – I - will - adore YOU…

Come up lift up His Name
To the King of Kings…
We will adore YOU Lord…
King of heaven and earth
King Jesus, King Jesus
Aleluya, aleluya, aleluya!
Majesty, awestruck Honor
And Power and Strength and Dominion
To You Lord,
To the King, to King
To the King of Glory

(Revelation Song by Phillips, Craig, and Dean)
My favorite song right now -- much of it taken literally straight from the book of Revelations, as the many gathered at Christ's throne can do nothing but worship Him!

Some People Only See In Black And White

Back in Michigan for the weekend.
Family reunion.
History lessons.
And this sweet adventure in my grandma's backyard.
Everything really does look better in black and white!


P.S. The old car you see is a 1940 Pontiac Coupe. Belongs to my dad. Perhaps someday he and I will restore it together.

Would You Read This If The Title Intrigued You?

September 20.
11:00am.
Pleasant Valley Reformed Church.
The date, time, and place. A big moment for me. I have felt many convictions regarding Christ's Church for many years.

It was right here. In this very spot. On the couch in my basement apartment at my parent's home. I was probably on HSA, checking out people's profiles or responding to a message. My dad walked down the stairs (his footfalls against the carpeted steps acting like the peek hole through a door, into which announces the presence of the person approaching) and asked to come into my room. His words would change my thoughts for the evening -- and my thoughts for the looming days ahead. He began: "People are getting excited." I was confused. What people? And why are they excited? Did gas prices come down again today? That would be exciting, indeed! He continued, "I sort of mentioned to a couple people your thoughts about youth group and church and they are getting really excited. They want to hear your thoughts directly. They have asked to have you come speak with them about this idea." Ummmm... errrrr... *cheesy grin.* I couldn't help but smile. I tried not to. This was all happening so very fast. Maybe too fast, but that has yet to be determined.

What my father was referring to, was a conversation he, my mother, and I had had the night before. They had asked if I would be willing to help with the youth group at his church. I hesitated with that. I had my face kicked in at the last church I served at in youth ministry. Undoubtedly, I have grown timid of the idea of returning to such position. And there remained something else... something I couldn't quite squeeze from between my lips. I wanted to say what I was thinking but felt scared. An emotion I have come to know all too well as of late. See, my time at Trinity Reformed Church last year was a time of trials mixed with triumphs. I have never been so pushed in all my life. Many questions developed over the 15-months in my white brick, book-filled office. What is this all about? Are we being effective? Page upon page worth of questions.

When my father confronted me with the question of helping with the youth group, many memories came rushing back into my head. All the questions returned. All the evening walks around Holland -- wandering alone, walking hand-in-hand with my thoughts -- flashed like lighting somewhere deep in my mind. Oh Lord, would I have it in me again? Do I have the passion for just one age group of church goers? That nagging "something" that I spoke of earlier began to rise to the surface. "I... uh... don't know that I can do that anymore. I don't know what to say to them anymore." This was the best that I could mutter. I knew there was more. After a moment of silence, I proceeded to wring from my soul what I was feeling. "I don't know that I agree with separating youth from the rest of the church. I think there is more we can do." There, I said it. And I meant it. I felt a bit embarrassed doing so. My dad has been so elated about a youth ministry at the small, country church. I was worried I would look up from the ground and see him holding a hand over his chest, and see a grimaced look on his bearded face from the gun shot wound I had just inflicted. But alas, no gun shot rang out. Instead, there was an intrigued look on both my parent's faces. So I continued. "I believe that ministry -- life in Christ is what I really mean by that word -- could better happen across the ages. Grandparents, parents, twentysomethings, teens, and children all engaged in a time of God-centered, heartfelt worship. Worship in the form of relating, of struggling, of honesty. Grandparents sharing their wisdom from years of trials and joys. Parents sitting down with their children and relating personally the realness of God in their lives. Children engaged in listening to the God-stories, soaking up the realness of God and active members in the life in Christ. No separation. No sunday school teachers or youth pastors relaying the message which should come from their parents and families." (That is a paraphrase of all I spoke.) There is yet more to my thoughts, but that best describes the main point of the discussion.

Next always in this discussion, comes the questions. People have questions for this idea. We have operated as a church for so many generations with one way of thinking: The church is responsible for the spiritual health of my family and will speak the utterances of God directly to each in the safety of their peer group. We'll call it sunday school because we're educating our kids in the way of God. We will search high and low for the most hip, current teaching curriculum and let that be our guide for our kids understanding of God. We'll prod them to attend youth group each week because they will come back on fire for God (that youth pastor dude seems so in touch with those kids and only he can truly teach them about who God is in their life). But I believe this has been a sad mistake on the part of the church. People are so incredibly disconnected from a life lived with other believers in Christ! We have shot ourselves in the chest. Despite all my "shooting" talk, I really am not a violent person. Families are falling apart. And God is no longer glorified. The latter must be the bigger sadness. We are not living in a right understanding of who God is. We do not seem interested in drawing each breath from Him. For many, their "walk with Christ" is limited to a Sunday morning service from either a bare-wood pew or a padded chair.

And so... the lingering question illuminating from my soul the past few years has been this: What if there could be more? More to the God we serve? More to our life in His Spirit? More to our life with other believers?

What if?

For right now, I will leave you with that question.

And the importance of September 20? It will be my first opportunity to share these thoughts with a group of people. Please pray I am able to speak clearly and passionately.

Gideon's $1.29

Judges 7.
Gideon defeats the Midianites.
If you get the opportunity, read that chapter. It is fascinating. Gideon is fascinating. And even more fascinating is God in this story. The way He strips down the comfort of Israel. Israel had grown to find much safety in her armies. Since their exodus from Egypt, God had been mustering her armies for battle many times before. If God fought with them, they won. If God was not with them, they lost. And ran. And hid. And were taken captive. And plundered.
But on this occasion, God has called Israel to do battle with the Midianites. And there is a catch of sorts...
vs. 2 says: "The LORD said to Gideon, 'You have too many men for me to deliver Midian into their hands. In order that Israel may not boast against me that her own strength has saved her, announce now to the people, "Anyone who trembles with fear may turn back and leave Mount Gilead."' So twenty-two thousand men left, while ten thousand remained."
Once more, the LORD said there were too many men for Him to deliver Israel. And so again, the LORD sifts the army and this time...
vs. 7 says: "With the three hundred men that lapped I will save you and give the Midianites into your hands."
32000 men. Gideon's army.
300 men. God's army.
God sifts. God whittles. God removes the obvious comfort of having 32000 men armed and ready for battle. And God knew, knowing the heart of men for which He created, that a defeat with that many men would have meant Israel seeing her own glory. And so, God being the jealous God that He is, removes any chance that Israel can look to herself anymore. He wanted the glory for Himself. He is God, after all. He is more than worthy of all glory. Glory was created for Him and Him alone.
Here is my story. I left my job as the Youth Director at Trinity Reformed Church last December. I left with my 2001 Saturn wagon (which I still owed money on). With less than $2000 in my savings (in March, I had to pay a $950 car insurance payment). And with the need to do some healing.
Eventually, I ended up in Duluth, MN. By this time, I had $800 to my name. This was in April. (Now mind you, I still have that annoying car payment each month. I have been trying to sell that vehicle since April.) I settled into the school bus and began searching the city for a job. Any job. Just something to help put food on the table and gas in the car. The job never came. I had found one, at The Edgewater Hotel and Resort as a housekeeper, but the Lymes Disease I had back in June prevented that from working out. I have applied to restaurants, hotels, retail stores, group homes, etc. Nothing. I have had a few interviews. But nothing has worked out.
I sit here, August 12th, and have yet to find work here in Duluth. And my time is drawing to a close. God has been whittling down my comfort. He has been sifting. I have tried to be responsible with the money I had this year. I have bought nothing frivolous. I have taken my girlfriend out to eat a few times and we've been to a few movies. I bought wood stain for my growing carving passion. I bought a new basketball. I have filled my gas tank just enough times to get by. I have kept just enough food around to survive off (in addition my girlfriend has helped tremendously in this area -- so a big thank you to her). And that is it. Besides the car payment. Having just written out my check for August's car payment, and making sure my checking account had enough to cover that cost, I will have $1.29 remaining to my name. By the goodness of my parents, I do have $42 in my wallet for gas for making it back to Iowa soon. A trip I will have to make, as a job may have come available down there. But there it is. If you would like to rob me, you now know how much I would be able to offer you.
I understand a huge difference resides between the importance of Gideon's story and my own. One deals with the safety of a nation. And God's glory through her. The other story deals with one man's trying to survive. One very small man. And God's glory through his story. God loves that one small man. And I used Gideon's story to begin, only because in a much smaller way, I too have had my comfort and safety sifted. Whittled. And God wants me to trust Him. With whatever I have left. And so I must. Even if I must walk everywhere. And eat wild berries from the side of the road. And pee in the woods (which I had been doing while living on the bus). I will strive to trust.
It is one of my biggest weaknesses right now. Trusting. I have been awful at it. And that may well be why God keeps whittling. Why my funds are being sifted. Because they do not belong to me. They never did. They have always been His. And He wants me to understand that and trust Him, to which they belong. He can do whatever He may please.
He still deserves the glory. He must have it. No matter what we do. God is glorified. It is the joy of the LORD that His creation should bring Him glory. He doesn't need it from us. He is awesome, incredible, perfect, loving, compassionate, good, and a host of other words which fail to all-encompass Him. But I want Him to be glorified through my little life. My small existence. If I am not, God will simply get it from somewhere else. For He may cause the very rocks to cry out His name!
Amen.
There it is. Gideon's $1.29.

Only A Chunk -- What The Junk?!

Here is a funny statement.
We all use it.
"I have too much to do to find time for God."
I have made that excuse. Last year, while working at Trinity Reformed Church, I had a scheduled time each work day for my devotions saved to my Microsoft Outlook. 8:45 each day a little reminder would pop up on my screen telling me I had fifteen minutes until I should start my time with God. Guess what. I almost never did them.
As if God is something for which to make time. I need to make time for God like I need to make time to practice soccer? I really don't think it works that way. God is God. It isn't about "making time for Him" -- penciling Him into our faulting little schedules. He demands our obedience. He desires our worship. Listen to Jesus stark words to His disciples:
"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul? For the Son of Man is going to come in his Father's glory with his angels, and then he will reward each person according to what he has done. I tell you the truth, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom." -- Matthew 16:24-28.
Hey you, God desires all of you. Hey me, God desires all of me.
Or nothing.
Not one chunk of your life.
We do a great job of saying things like: "Oh, I will spend one-hour today reading my Bible; 30 minutes in prayer; and spend 2 hours this week volunteering at a local shelter." We break our lives up into two time categories.
Our time.
God time.
It doesn't work that way. It never did. Jesus never said give me an hour a day. Give me a piece of your heart. Give me a part of your focus. Give me half an effort. Jesus said instead: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me." This happens every day. Or at least that is what He demands. He wants all of you every day. Not all of you for one day each week... and then the rest are yours. Not an hour here and an hour there. He wants all or nothing. And it is a matter of life and death what we choose.
He demands our obedience. He is Lord. We don't talk about that reality anymore. The reality that He is Lord. This does actually mean something for our lives. It involves more than going to church once on Sunday morning. Or Saturday night. Or Wednesday night. Or to your elders meeting. Or showing up to take the offering and then heading out. In fact, it has very little to do with what we have created to be "church" today. Jesus' way of life involves everything. Literally. Everything.
It even extends beyond: "I have accepted Jesus into my heart." We are talking about the God of the universe. The Creator of all things. Man. Animals. Earth. Sky. Stars. Doesn't He deserve more than just acceptance into our life? I know He demands more than just acceptance. He made that very clear. Over and over. He doesn't just want you to think well of Him. He wants you to give up your life for Him. You cannot have it both ways.
When talking about man's tendency towards seeking after the things of this life: i.e. money -- Jesus said that you cannot serve both God and money. You cannot have it both ways. He wants your dependence. Your will. Your focus. Your drive. Your time. Your heart. Your desires. Your life. And the end result is simple. Either you obey Him and seek after Him and trust Him and allow Him to continue working on your heart. Or He sends you home. Sad because you thought you already had it all.

Words only go so far. I wanted to present to you the truth. And now it is in your playing field.
And in mine.

Bye Bye Blue Bird

Moving day.
After 3 months, to the day, in the bus, I am moving on.
At least for right now, a friend is letting me crash at his apartment. On his couch. Not far from his lizard, Wadi. The thing has a wicked tail with spikes. Yikes!
I cannot believe that I am leaving the bus already. I will miss it greatly. But I am excited for what is next. Whatever that may be.
Oh, one of the issues here in Duluth has been trying to find a job. I have applied all over the city and over the 3 months nothing much has happened. The one job I thought I had, began right as I had a fight with Lyme's Disease and was unsure how long the healing process would take.
But...
I have an interview this coming Monday at a group home for mentally challenged adults called, Our Place. I believe they are looking for a live-in. Someone who lives on-site and works on-call throughout the night. They provide housing, food, and a small monthly stipend. It would be great if this works out. Please pray that it does.
Next Tuesday, I will be heading to Fern, IA, to house sit for my parents while they are in New Orleans picking up my sister.
Just wanted to offer a quick update on my journey. I have much more to write, but it will have to wait a little. I had started a long blog a few days ago regarding a fun week and weekend trip Jenna and I had, but have not been able to finish it. Soon hopefully.
Thanks for reading.
Talk soon.