Coffee with Rain

In Which I Attempt to Pursue My Gifting.

2011-03-05T14:31:00.000-08:00

So, I'll just say it. Coffee with Rain is ending (as though it still had life in it at this point - the last time I posted anything was months ago and the only comments this thing gets are spam). I'm going to shut this thing down. But fear not, all three of you who still read this! It is being reborn as something different. What form it will take and what the content will be is something that I am still fleshing out, but the short story is: I am in the process of creating a new blog.

What's brought this on, you ask? A lot of things. But mostly it's been my thoughts about gifting.

In leadership circles at Mars Hill we talk a lot about roles of Prophet, Priest, and King. Each of us is gifted differently, and every leader falls generally into one of those 3 categories as their primary - though not always their exclusive - gifting.

Prophets are gifted message-givers. They are excellent communicators. They gravitate naturally toward speaking, declaring, and teaching. They are capable of inspiring and effective calls to action. (Caveat: we use the word "prophet" here loosely to describe a form of gifting in terms of leadership and communication - this doesn't mean someone gifted this way is infallible or that they speak for God with the same authority that the Old Testament prophets did).

Priests are people-focused. They naturally gravitate toward caring for the flock, and they love walking alongside people in discipleship. They are extremely relational and have a deep, caring heart for the people they lead, being very concerned about their spiritual well-being.

Kings are organizers. They are planners (sometimes to a fault!). They are often gifted administratively and are good at creating order from chaos. They see the big picture and understand how systems and processes need to be put in place in order to make the big picture function.

I can say with total, utmost certainty that I am definitely not a Priest type of leader. I've wrestled with this for a while, tried to change it, and to some degree there is growth God is and will do there (we all fall under the Great Commission to make disciples, after all), but it's not my natural wiring. And I'm coming to a place where I'm learning to accept that.

I've been told I'm a bit of a King - and I think there's probably some truth there. I definitely have some organizational ~~anal-retentive obsessions~~ abilities, as anyone who's ever seen my apartment or my desk at work can attest. I do like processes and putting them together. This is probably also why I enjoy working in Supply Chain so much - a supply chain is really one big huge process web.

But when I read that list, the one that I gravitate the most toward - the one I think I may be gifted more for because it just gets my heart pumping - is Prophet. This is where writing enters the equation.

There are few things that bring me greater satisfaction than spending time putting a piece of writing together, reading it, re-reading it, molding it, and then putting it out there - and having someone later tell me "Man, what you wrote there really spoke to me and got me thinking," or even just "I really enjoyed that last blog post you wrote." It is such a wonderful thing to have fruit come from your labor in that way.

Writing is a way for me not only to process what I'm learning but also to help others learn. I enjoy trying to convey an idea in a way that helps people not only understand but also perhaps moves them or inspires them in some way.

Whenever someone asks me, "If money wasn't an issue and you could do anything you wanted to do, what would it be?" my answer is:

I would write.

I would build a cool home office (perfectly organized and tidy of course), and I would write books. I would write blogs. I would write novels. I would write articles. About all kinds of stuff. I would just write and write and think and think and write some more. I'd escape into fictional worlds of my own creation and savor the thrill of being inside a story even as I create it. I'd have serious moments of contemplation, pondering the hard issues of life, and trying to untangle them with the written word. I'd relish the joy of creating something and sharing it.

Two things have held me back from doing this. One is that I have always questioned whether the picture I just outlined is really only me pursuing my own comfort and creating a world where there are no stresses, deadlines, problems, or real responsibilities. And maybe that's partially true.

The other is the lack of practicality. Unless you're an established author, it is very difficult to make a living with writing.

Right now, this isn't about making a living. I still love my (new) job and don't plan on quitting anytime soon. This is about using my time outside of my vocation to try and build something that is both enjoyable and fruitful. This is about pursuing a gifting that God has given in terms of writing and using it for His fame. This is about being effective and not wasting my life or my talents.

Which brings me back to the subject of the new blog/website. The idea is to create something more than just a blog where I ~~complain~~ talk about what's going on in my life. My vision is for this new site to be:

Glorifying to Jesus, declaring truths about who He is and what they mean for us
A fruitful use of a talent I have been given for the sake of the church and even more so for those outside of it
A way to organize my thoughts - what I'm learning, reading, etc - and put them into a format that (I hope) might prove useful for others as well
A place to share my writing, both Gospel-focused and fictional, and to practice and develop that skill
A means to encourage me to think more deeply on the things of God, on Scripture, and on what life as a Christian looks like - and then to share those things with all of you.
A place non-Christians - those curious, uninformed, or even hostile - can engage in discussion, ask questions, and gain a greater understanding of what it means to be a Christian

That's the vision. What exactly that's going to mean in terms of structure, content, style, etc is something I'm still figuring out. In the coming weeks I'll be setting up the domain, designing the site, and getting it set up and ready to go. Once it's ready I'll post it to Facebook and Twitter.

I hope you'll join me in this endeavor - I invite you (once it's up) to read along, learn along, and (if I do my job right) grow along with me. Like we always say: it's all about Jesus, and at the end it's all for His fame, because everything else is just temporary.

Here we go.

He Rescues in Delight

2011-01-18T20:52:00.000-08:00

Yesterday my girlfriend Heather asked me a very simple question: "What's the first thing you think of when you think of God?"

Without the slightest hesitation I answered: "An angry father."

My response came to mind and rolled out of my mouth so quickly that it even caught me off guard. An angry father? What on earth was going on in my heart to cause me to associate God with an angry father?

I couldn't stop thinking about it all that evening and all day today, and the more that I gave it thought the more I realized how true it was in my own mind. I really do view God as an angry father who is horribly disappointed in me as a son and who must therefore be convinced that I am somehow worth loving.

This wrong view of God causes me to behave in one of two ways:

1. Hiding from him in fear

2. Doing things (or not doing things) that I think will earn me good standing (righteousness) with him

God, the "angry father", therefore becomes someone who is to be feared for his discipline and hidden from whenever possible - and when hiding is not an option, it is best to attempt to bribe yourself into his good graces through works.

As a result, my life reflects:

1. A great deal of fear and anxiety about the future, because every decision I make could lead to my undoing with an angry God.

2. A lack of trust in God and what He has promised, which fuels point #1.

3. Total paralysis at any decision point or fork in the road of life out of fear from points #2 and #3.

4. A lack of obedience out of love and instead obedience out of fear - if obedience at all.

5. A lack of grace for those around me who, just like me, are sinners needing to be shown mercy.

6. A lack of a desire to spend time with or talk to God in prayer or Bible reading

What a sickening, horrible way to live! And what a horrible God that would be if it were true of him! Yet this is the default mode of my heart.

Tonight in my Bible reading time I was in Psalm 18, which David wrote as a psalm of gratitude to God for rescuing him from the hand of Saul. Verse 19 was like a bucket of cold water in the face:

"... he rescued me because he delights in me."

I stared at it for what must have been a good 30 seconds. He delights in me? He rescues me because he delights in me?

The Holy Spirit, seeing his opportunity, was there in an instant, feverishly whispering to my heart. Yes! Don't you see? He loves you! Why are you wasting all this energy trying to make him happy? You already have his love!

And then, the way a wave breaks and crashes onto the beachhead, relief came rushing in. It was as though the world was taken off my shoulders.

Relief from the lie that I have to do something to make my Father God love me.

Relief from the burden of guilt for the things that I have done and will do in the future.

Relief from the paralyzing fear of the future and the weight of risk in my decisions.

The whole Bible is a letter from a Father who rescues His wayward children because of His great mercy and delight in them.

Scripture corrects the "angry father" paradigm of God:

"My son, do not despise the Lord's discipline or be weary of his reproof, for the Lord reproves him whom he loves, as a father the son in whom he delights."

-Proverbs 3:11-12

"For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."

-Romans 6:23

"I am writing to you, little children, because your sins are forgiven for his name's sake."

-1 John 2:12

"See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God!"

-1 John 3:1

Our life, therefore, is to be lived primarily as a response to what He has done - a response to His daring, selfless rescue and the love that He pours out on us - not a scorecard that earns us our righteousness in His eyes.

Tonight I'm experiencing freedom from lies, burdens, and fears in repentance of a false view of God.

So. Ask yourself: What's the first thing you think of when you think of God? Then ask: Who does the Bible say God is?

Simplicity

2010-11-14T18:46:00.001-08:00

It's time for a return to simplicity.

Priorities for the near future (in no particular order):

1. Discipleship - living the life of a disciple (first and foremost!) and making new ones. Taking care of me - relationship with Jesus, health, priorities; and taking care of others - community group, family, friends.

2. Heather - an amazing, great gift of a woman God has given who I am absolutely in no way deserving of.

3. Reading - my bookshelf is chock-full of solid Christian books on theology, biographies, etc that I really need to read.

4. Writing - this is likely going to take the form of a new blog or book or some sort. Haven't figured that out quite yet, but I know that I have a gift here and it's high time I started actually using it for the glory of God and my joy.

Basically, a return to simplicity entails two basic principles:

-A focus on what is really important, which is the identity God has given me and what He's called me to do.

-Enjoyment of God and who He is, which is why I was created. Enjoyment of what I get to do rather than stuffing my calendar and my life full of things I feel I have to do.

That's it.

Hand on My Head

2010-05-17T23:00:00.000-07:00

Pastor Mark used an illustration of Luke 1:66 this past Sunday that hit home in a huge way for me.

His youngest son needed to use the restroom while they were at a crowded restaurant. As they moved through the throng of people, Mark reached out and placed his hand lovingly on his son's head, guiding the boy (who of course was much shorter than him and couldn't see where he needed to go) through the crowd toward the restrooms. Not shoving him, not pushing him, just sort of steering him through the crowd. The boy reached up and placed his own hand upon his Father's.

That is the picture of the Christian life. That is the picture of the kind of Father that God is. That is the picture of the kind of child each of us is before Him.

There's a lot at stake there. We can't see through the crowd; we're too small. We put everything on the line when we trust in the leadership and the guidance of our Father. Our job, our family, our relationships, our reputation, our time, our dreams, our pain, our past, our future. When we surrender those things to His authorship and his direction, we lose control over them. They become His tools for our sanctification instead of our idols for our worship. And that is terrifying.

I'll be honest. I'm scared.

I'm scared of what lies out there in the crowd. I'm scared I won't be able to find the proverbial restroom. I'm scared I'll somehow dislodge my Father's hand from my head and that I'll get lost. I'm scared I'll step on someone's toes and hurt them as we pick our way through the crowd.

Yet the Bible tells me I don't need to be.

I Don't Need to Fear What's Out There in the Crowd

"I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world."

John 16:33

"If God is for us who can be against us?"

Romans 8:31

I Don't Need to Fear I Won't Find the Restroom

"for the Lord knows the way of the righteous..."

Psalm 1:6

"You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore."

Psalm 16:11

I Don't Need to Fear I'll Dislodge His Hand

"I will never leave you nor forsake you."

Hebrews 13:4-6

"I am with you always, to the end of the age."

Matthew 28:20

"No one will snatch them out of my hand."

John 10:28

I Don't Need to Fear I'll Hurt Someone

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope."

Jeremiah 29:11

"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose."

Romans 8:28

So tonight I pray for rest in that truth. I'm going to bed to sleep in the sweet knowledge that my Father's hand is on my head.

Raincatcher (Part 2)

2010-03-28T18:23:00.000-07:00

There was no absolutely no conceivable reason why there should be a house here, he told himself. The nearest city – or at least what was left of it – was over forty miles away. Everyone had long since left the countryside, sought refuge in the higher places. Mountains.

At the time, his parents had said there was no need to leave. God will protect us, they said. He is always watching.

He shivered, both from the cold and from the rage that now boiled from his belly. Lies. Blind, worthless lies.

There was no God. Anyone who had lived through the hell of the last twenty-two years knew that. And if there was, he certainly was not paying attention to anything going on down here. He certainly hadn’t watched over his parents well, either, now had he? Of course not. After their death he had remained in the countryside less out of a desire to stay near home than out of an enraged need to prove God – or whatever evil created these rains – would not drive him out. Bring your rain. You’ll have to drown me before I leave.

If there is a God, he thought, he hates us. He hates us all and now he’s drowning the whole world.

And yet, despite the certainty that everyone had long since fled to the mountains, there it was: a small house in the middle of nowhere – in the middle of a floodplain. No stilts. Impossible.

He coughed and began dragging his foot again. The pain was quickly becoming unbearable. Soon he would go into shock, either from the wound itself or from the loss of blood from the laceration in his chest. Air continued to whistle through the punctured lung. Breathing was becoming more difficult.

Just a little further, he prodded himself. Almost there. He grunted and hopped one step forward, dragging his useless leg.

And then he saw it, and his blood ran cold.

No. His mind screamed. It’s not possible.

There was no rain falling on the house.

No, that wasn’t quite true.

The rain was falling above the house, just as everywhere else. But it stopped several feet above the roof as if striking an invisible sheet of glass, rolling down the sides and flowing off unseen eaves in a sheet. A waterfall of liquid diamond.

How? HOW? He stared in awe. How was this possible? He blinked several times, certain he only had water in his eyes. But no – the small, wooden house was dry. Bone dry.

He stared at it for several moments, taking it in. It was an unpainted, one room cabin. The windows were small and square, and thin curtains hid the view inside. Warm, orange light burst from the window that had drawn him here, cutting into the dark night and piercing the blackness without hesitation.

He hopped once more, and finally he could go no further. Exhausted, he collapsed to the ground, landing directly on the wound in his chest. He grunted in pain as the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Lying there on the ground, soaking wet, mere feet from the front door, he gasped for air and began to moan.

And then the door opened.

A shaft of light burst from the threshold and blinded him as he lay sputtering on the ground. He tried to hold up a hand to shield his eyes and squinted to make out the immense figure in the doorway. It was a man, and he was big. He filled the frame.

The man wore large brown boots laced up over his trousers and a huge blue parka with the hood pulled up over his head. He stepped off the stoop and out into the rain. Slowly, deliberately. The mud squished out from under his boots and the rain quickly filled in the deep impressions left by his soles.

The tall man stopped inches from the man lying in the mud. Now the thick rubber soles of the boots were larger than ever.

Holding one hand over the wound in his chest, he turned over in the mud, peering up at the figure standing above him. His face was largely concealed by the shadows, except for his eyes. Two brilliant, bright brown eyes. The tall man leaned down closer and his lips spread into a thin, knowing smile.

“Hello, David,” he said softly. “I’ve been waiting for you."

Raincatcher (Part 1)

2010-03-21T21:45:00.000-07:00

He could no longer remember the world before the rain.

It had begun, his mother and father told him, not long after he was born. He was only six years old as he stood at the window and pressed his nose against the cold glass, watching the first faint drops fall from the sky as thin wisps of fog formed on the window around his tiny, hot fingers.

The rain had not stopped in over twenty years.

It always rained. Sometimes it came in a torrent, a destructive flood that washed away entire cities. Sometimes it was only a soft mist, barely noticeable, a fresh and almost comforting coolness that seemed to come from the very air itself. But it was always there. The world was always wet.

His parents were gone now. Washed away by one of the later floods. He was thirteen then. He had stood at the window, watching the water carry them away. He did not cry. No one ever cried anymore. It was pointless to add more water to a world that had no need of it.

Recently, the rain had been merciful. It had been calm. He had used the precious time to work on the stilts that held up the house, high above the ground. Thirteen feet high. High enough and with thick enough beams to withstand most torrential floods that ravaged the area.

It was a pattern he had grown accustomed to, and it took up the majority of his time. Since his parents had gone, he had done nothing else. On calm days – days when the rain was only a mist – he worked on the stilts, replacing rusted screws and replacing soggy, saggy beams with newer, only slightly dryer ones. On torrential days, he took shelter in the house, listening to the rain pound on the tin roof and hoping that the stilts held out through the night.

Two days ago a violent storm had blown in and, predictably, the rain had come with it. It came this time in a torrent, washing away the foundations of the house that he had so nearly secured. He hadn’t been able to finish them in time. And now the house was gone.

He hadn’t made it out in time. The rushing water snapped the stilts like toothpicks and the house settled into the current, groaning and creaking as though relieved. The water smashed through the windows and sucked him out, deep down into dark swirls thicker than blood.

Maybe it was blood, he thought. His blood. He was bleeding.

Then darkness.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It was still night, and the moon provided the only illumination. He only knew that the waters had receded enough to give the river the opportunity to deposit him on a bank of land. He had come to with his lungs filled and vomited onto the grass, coughing until he could no longer breathe.

Darkness again.

Pain.

He gasped and opened his eyes, and for a moment thought he had gone blind. Just the night. Only the darkness. And the moon. His wet clothes clung to his shivering body, prickling with goosebumps.

He could feel the shard of glass now. Six inches wide, maybe five inches long. Deep in his chest. Thank God, it had missed his heart.

God? The absurdity of his own thought struck him even though the cold and searing pain. God…

Rolling over onto his side, he grunted and took hold of the glass with the tips of his fingers. He took a deep breath, inhaling the freezing rain that splashed down from above, and pulled.

The rushing wind carried his scream downstream for two miles.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been walking on the path. Two hours? Three? Time had stopped. The moon appeared not to move, and the night would last forever.

It could hardly be called walking, either. He was limping. The leg was probably broken, he decided. His breathing was short and labored and the air wheezed through the hole in his chest.

He cursed under his breath and kept walking, dragging his right leg.

The small path had started thirty feet from the water’s edge. It was only a few feet wide, and made of dirt. What had been here before?

The rain continued to pour. It flowed down his face and dripped off the tip of his nose. It was completely silent except for the sound of the rain hitting the ground and the leaves of trees. The wind had stopped.

And then he saw it, a quarter-mile off, through the fog and the rain. A small, glowing yellow light. The stars were low tonight.

No. He stopped. That’s not a star.

His eyes narrowed and he held one hand over his brow to shield his eyes from the rain, squinting into the distance.

It was a window. The light was in a window.

It was a house.

[To be continued…]

Court of Law

2010-03-10T22:20:00.001-08:00

“Silence in the courtroom! I said SILENCE!”

The gavel’s incessant pounding on its wooden perch ricocheted off the 40-foot ceilings of the room and immediately brought the chatter amongst the jury and attendees to a stop. Somewhere behind the closed doors at the back of the room the woman’s hysterical screams and angry shouts could still be heard, growing ever fainter as she was dragged down the hall.

“This isn’t fair! This isn’t FAIR! I want to talk to my lawyer! Where the hell is my lawyer?!? I demand an appeal, right now! This is INSANE! Let go of me! LET GO OF ME! I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t even KNOW!”

The silence in the room grew heavy as her voice faded away, turning slowly to an ominous ring that filled the space, as though pressurizing it to fill the new void. Everyone knew full well that there would be no appeal. It was far, far too late for that.

The angel, holding the gavel and seated in an elevated tower at the left side of the courtroom, allowed this silence to linger uncomfortably for a full fifteen seconds. Then, coughing to clear his throat, he replaced the gavel and massaged his temples for a moment before continuing.

“Bring the next defendant into His Majesty’s courtroom!” he shouted.

The solid cherry-stained oak doors at the far side of the room swung open instantly and with such force that their full weight – over half a ton each – crashed against the walls and sent thousands of tiny splinters flying outward. Two new bailiffs emerged, dragging a limp man by the arms who appeared to be unconscious. His torn burlap rags were smudged with heavy, gray dust, streaked with mud, and stained with drops of blood from the fresh cut on his collarbone.

The bailiffs dragged the man to the center of the room, directly in front of the enormous throne that dominated the front of the court. He thudded to the floor, too weak to brace himself against the fall, and bounced like a toothpick before finally managing to force his arms underneath himself and feebly raise his head high enough to peer upward.

He stopped breathing instantly.

Occupying the throne was – he knew not what. There were no words to describe what he saw before him.

The throne itself, a deep ocean-blue seat made entirely of what appeared to be sapphire, was massive – at least ten feet in breadth and twice as deep. Its back was so high that touched the ceiling of the courtroom, and it seemed to glow softly from within, like phosphorescence of the sea at nighttime.

The being seated on the throne had the vague appearance of a man, but was clearly anything but human. Larger than a man – larger, indeed, than life itself – he had a form that was difficult to discern. Clothed in white robes so dazzling they seemed to shine with their own luminance, his body itself glowed as well, as though made of molten metal. Long white hair cascaded from his scalp to his shoulders, framing eyes that were like fire. The air around him glowed as though itself aflame from his presence. The light emanating from him was blinding – like staring into the sun.

The man suddenly knew he was staring at God himself. This was not a strange dream.

He was dead.

Fear gripped him. How did he get here? He couldn’t even remember dying.

The angel leaned forward, peering over the edge of his high perch at the courtroom’s left side, and looked down at the filthy man on the floor. He averted his gaze long enough to flip through the worn, coffee-colored pages of an enormous leather-bound book sitting in front of him, running one finger along its pages as though searching the contents of a list. Finally, his finger came to rest directly below the name he was looking for. The read the man’s name aloud – slowly and deliberately.

The man, now trembling from the effort of holding his head up off the ground, shuddered visibly as though struck. The angel, apparently not concerned with confirming his obvious identity, continued.

“Born in A.D. 1985, in His Majesty’s occupied Kingdom.”

The man remained silent.

The angel looked down at him with curiosity. “Do you know why you are here?”

There was no response from the man on the floor, who simply looked around with wide, terrified eyes. The fear in his face betrayed the fact that he did, indeed, know exactly why he was there.

The angel continued. “You are here to give an account for your life and to stand trial for all that you have done and not done – for the totality of the eighty-seven years that were numbered to you upon the earth as a citizen of the occupied Kingdom. When all the evidence has been presented, a verdict will be handed down and your eternal fate will be decided. There is no appeal once the verdict is handed down. Whatever the verdict, you shall be rewarded or punished accordingly. As I’m sure you’re now aware, you are in the presence of the Ancient of Days. The Alpha and the Omega. The I Am. He alone will give the verdict. He alone has the authority to judge.”

The angel took a moment to shuffle some wrinkled scrolls on his desk, as though searching for a particular piece of parchment.

“Now then,” he said quietly, “How do you plead?”

The man simply stared up, awed, still unable to speak.

“He is guilty – he knows it.” The low hiss came from a corner of the room, cutting through the silence. The angel said nothing, and the man on the floor looked to his right, toward the sound of the voice. Its source was hidden in a dark corner.

“He is guilty. He is the most vile of sinners, and must be punished accordingly … Just like the last one.”

The air in the courtroom instantly grew heavy, saturated with heat, and the man on the floor began to quiver. The faint outline of a form in the shadows began to emerge.

“Yessssssssssssss…” the voice came again, nearly giddy with anticipation, dripping with pleasure. Its sound was like metal scraping against concrete. “It’s too late for him.”

The figure stepped forward from the darkness, and everyone in the courtroom winced, leaning backward and as far away from his presence as possible. A foul stench followed him from the corner, drifting lazily outward and over the heads of the attendees, so thick it was almost visible.

The eyes caught the man’s attention first – like a nightmare given form. They were dead eyes, a pale, milky white, lacking pupils and colored irises, peering outward from a wrinkled and leathery face that looked equally lifeless. Darkened lips stretched thin over a set of yellowed, dirty teeth now grinding into a sickening grin of delight. What clumps of hair remained on his nearly bald head were black, stringy, and oily, as though they had not been washed in years. Oddly, this grotesque man – the walking dead – wore the finest, cleanest suit the man on the floor had ever seen. It was obviously extremely expensive, likely brand new, and perfectly pressed – black with subtle grey pinstripes and paired with shoes so shiny he could see his own terrified face in them as the dead man stopped not two feet from where he currently lay. His hot breath actually clouded and condensed on the dead man’s shoes as though on a cold window, momentarily obscuring his reflection in the polished leather.

The angel looked at the ghastly figure dead on. “And what evidence of this man’s trespasses do you bring to His Majesty’s courtroom?”

The dead man snickered and began hacking and laughing, obviously relishing the question immensely. “I have evidence,” he hissed, and he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The crack ricocheted off the courtroom’s silent walls.

Two more bailiffs appeared, carrying a weathered scroll so immense in diameter and weight that it was obviously straining both of their sizable forms to carry it. They laid it gingerly on the floor, directly in front of the glowing throne, and one of the bailiffs then untied the ribbon binding the enormous paper bundle, giving it a gentle flick with his index finger.

As though pushed by an invisible hand, the enormous scroll immediately began unrolling – straight down the center of the courtroom, past the man on the floor, past the dead man, down the aisle, and finally coming to rest against the far wall – not even halfway unraveled – with a dull thump.

The dead man grinned with pleasure. “Evidenccccccccce!”

Attendees in the courtroom seated on the aisles leaned out over the edge of the their pews, cocking their heads to read the writing on the scroll. Gasps of astonishment were heard that quickly began blending with hushed whispers as the dreadful details of the man’s life – now displayed prominently in large font right down the middle of the courtroom – were relayed from those on the edge of the pews down to the opposite end. The growing consensus – that this wretched man was almost certainly doomed – was palpable.

The dead man let loose a throaty cough, clearing his airway and commanding the courtroom’s attention once more. “I have spent eighty-seven years collecting this evidence and submit it to His Majesty’s court as clear proof of this despicable” – he pointed a pale, bony finger at the man on the floor – “worm’s guilt! Is it not written that the wages of sin is death? The Law requires that he be executed!”

The corpse stopped and directed his gaze to the man on the floor, stepping closer and bending down until his decaying face was only inches from the man’s nose. The man on the floor trembled in sheer terror, looking up into the most horrific nightmare he’d ever seen.

But it wasn’t the leathery face that frightened him this time.

The dead man’s eyes had changed from milky white to a deep obsidian black, so smooth and shiny that they reflected light like mirrors. And as the man on the floor stared up into those horrific black ovals, he saw something far more terrifying than the foul corpse before him.

His blood ran cold as he realized he was staring at a reflection of his own heart.

The dead man’s eyes pierced and searched the very depths of his soul, his motives, his desires – and reflected back at him everything within like twin mirrors.

The man on the floor burst into tears as the gravity of his situation – the complete, explicit, total knowledge of his unspeakable sins and their inevitable consequences – settled upon him. He could feel the wrath already, and the weight of the Law pressed down upon him with such power that it actually forced him to the floor. Hope died with one glance into those blackened eyes.

There would be no escape.

“Yesssssssss...” the corpse leaned down and hissed into his ear, just loud enough for the man alone to hear. “You know it, don’t you? You know what you’ve done . . . And now we all know what you’ve done . . .” He spewed the man’s name as though it were a dirty word. “You are a despicable excuse for a man, a pathetic waste of flesh and blood and bone. Filthy. FILTHY! You call this made in His image?!” he shrieked. “Imago Dei!”

The corpse spat directly into the man’s bruised face. “Look at that revolting heart! Does that look like the Imago Dei to you?!”

The corpse’s leathery, clammy hands grabbed the man’s face and shook it, nearly snapping his neck as it wrenched his head around to stare directly at the throne at the front of the room. He leaned closer and the man could feel his hot, sour breath in his ear as he whispered.

“You are not His image-bearer. You are not even His. You are a fake. A counterfeit. And you . . . are going to die. He is going to look down at you from that throne, cast you away from His presence, and you are going to die.” A gleeful sneer broke out across his wrinkled face as a string of drool – evidence of his anticipation – descended like milky liquid plastic from one corner of his mouth, puddling on the floor.

“He hates you,” The corpse sneered, his lip curling in disgust. “Did you know that? He hates you. I tried to tell you ... you wasted so much time trying to please Him. So much time wasted climbing a mountain made of gravel . . . all for nothing.”

And in a hushed tone, he whispered carefully chosen and oft-repeated words for what he knew would be the final time.

“You were always such a disappointment to Him.”

The corpse released the man’s face, slamming his forehead to the floor. Raising his voice, he pointed a long, bony finger at the now broken and sobbing wretch, his outstretched hand trembling with rage, spitting his words like something foul-tasting.

“This man . . . is . . . a TRAITOR! Idolator! Disgusting, pride-filled worm! Thief! Murderer! Liar! Sexually immoral! There is more than enough evidence to convict him! I can scarcely even LOOK upon him without the most vile of tastes rising up in my throat!” The corpse half-scowled, half-smiled down at his prey, knowing what was coming, trembling with expectant glee and muttering to himself in excitement. “He lost this one … Oh yes, He lost this one. His own Law declares it. It’s too late.”

A low hiss rose from the corpse – but this time it was not his voice. A black serpent emerged from the breast pocket of his suit, winding its way slowly around the corpse’s waist and down his leg toward the floor. Its green eyes sparkled as the forked, red tongue darted into and out of the air, tasting it as the snake turned its head side to side.

Smelling.

The serpent reached the floor and slithered slowly toward the terrified rag-clad man. The corpse reached out and grabbed the man’s arm, yanking him forcefully to his feet.

But the angel seated in the tower raised his hand. “Stop! You are right in what the Law requires. But only His Majesty may pass judgment. Let the man go.”

The dead man growled but released his grip, allowing his prey to thud to the floor for the second time. The serpent – now entwined around the man’s left leg and squeezing tightly enough to cut off his circulation – stopped too, resting its head on the floor.

Crumpled, the man sobbed quietly with his face buried in his hands. “Oh God . . . Oh God! Oh God, what have I done . . .”

Flustered murmurs and whispers rose up immediately from the audience, quickly enveloping the room. The angel slammed the gavel forcefully on the wooden podium.

“Order! We will have order in this court!”

The room was instantly silent as the audience bristled to attention once more. The angel massaged his temples as though exasperated and replaced the gavel in its holder.

“Does the prosecution rest its case?” he asked in a flat tone.

The corpse grinned slowly and stole another glance at the all-but-condemned man. “But of course.”

“Very good. It is time, then, for you to enter a plea,” the angel said to the man on the floor.

The man broke, lowering his forehead to touch the floor and convulsing with sobs as he desperately tried to maintain what little composure he had left. “Guilty! I plead guilty! Oh, God! Oh God!”

The dead man shrieked with delight. “Mine! Mine! Guilty! He’s guilty!”

But the angel slammed the gavel again and instantly quieted the corpse’s celebration. “The verdict has not yet been handed down! It is time for the defense to present its case. The court calls the defendant as its first witness.”

Stupefied, the man on the floor stood weakly and looked around. The light from the throne bathed his face with the strength of the sun at midday, instantly causing his dirty and tear-soaked face to cake and dry.

“I … I … I have no evidence to present, Your Honor,” he croaked weakly. “I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell among a people of unclean lips! I … I am what he says!” he motioned to the dead man in the corner, who again screeched with glee.

The angel pounded the gavel.

“Do you have no attorney?” he asked the man with curiosity.

The man shook his head. “No, Your Honor.”

Scarcely had the man spoken these words than the doors at the back of the courtroom flew open with a crash, sucking the air out of the room as though in a vacuum. The startled audience and everyone else in the room turned immediately to see a man standing in the enormous arched doorway, his face resolute.

He had the appearance of a man, but like the Alpha seated on the throne, he too seemed to be glowing from within and was clothed in white robes. His dark eyes were set in a strong face that appeared at once kind and fierce. When he opened his mouth to speak the sound of his voice, although not raised, filled the entire room.

“I will speak for this man.”

He stepped over the dead man’s scroll – still unraveled at the doorway – and directly onto the parchment that covered the entirety of the center aisle. His bare feet tore holes in the parchment and crinkled its surface as he walked slowly and deliberately toward the front of the courtroom, every step deafening in the silence.

The dead man stiffened as though struck each time the sound of a rip in the parchment reached his ears. His eyes, once again dead and white, now popped with anger. “Who is this man?! He has no authority here to spe-“

“SILENCE!” The man in the aisle bellowed. The stained-glass windows of the courtroom flexed from the force of his voice and threatened to break. The corpse went silent instantly.

The new entrant finally stopped at the courtroom’s bow and turned to face the audience.

“I am I Am,” he spoke softly, and the audience gasped. “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. I am the Beginning and the End, the Author and Perfector. For me and by me all things were created and hold together and have their purpose. I am the Firstborn among the dead. I am the Root of David. And I am the Advocate. This man’s Advocate.”

The audience – and the man in filthy rags – stared in stunned silence. No one dared so much as breathe. Even the angel seated in the tower moved not a single muscle.

“The defense will make its case before the court,” the Advocate announced.

Again the courtroom’s side doors swung open with a mighty and splintering crash. A line of bailiffs entered the courtroom, one after the other, in single file, each carrying an enormous leather-bound book. Eighty-seven in all, they encircled the entire courtroom, standing against the walls and facing inward. Each held his book closed and flat in front of him, with its cover facing up.

For the first time, the Almighty on the throne moved. He stood from his throne and spoke, his voice like a cascading waterfall. “Begin.”

The Ancient of Days again took his seat, and the books were opened.

Each book’s cover lifted as though by an invisible hand, its pages turning without its bearer’s assistance. The contents of the books flashed at lightning speed in images above each bailiff’s head in midair.

Scenes from his life. All on display for the world to see.

The court stenographer – armed with what seemed to be an endless scroll which cascaded from his cherry desk across the floor and snaked around the edges of the courtroom – watched intently and scratched furiously with an enormous feathered quill without even looking down at the parchment.

The Advocate spoke. “Each book contains the entirety of one year of this man’s life in every detail. Every thought, every word spoken – both planned and careless – every motive, every dream, every deed – both those done and left undone.”

For the first time in several minutes, the corpse spoke, stepping forward and sputtering in anger. “This is no defense! Your Honor, I move that the defense’s case be thrown out! This man is clearly guilty! The defense’s own evidence confirms this! Look at this man’s innumerable sins!”

The Alpha’s eyes blazed like furnaces in righteous anger at what he saw reflected before him eighty-seven fold. He addressed the Advocate for the first time.

“My Son, what evidence do you bring of this man’s innocence?” he demanded.

“Yes! What evidence!” the corpse shrieked.

The Advocate was silent for a moment. He turned and faced the courtroom’s audience and the jury for a moment. Then, without a word, he turned to face the glowing throne and raised his arms, palms up, from the folds of his white robe.

“Here is my evidence.” He said softly.

The entire courtroom exploded with a gasp and flurry of cries at what it saw. The corpse, too, shrieked in rage.

An immense and jagged circular scar was visible on each of the Advocate’s palms, directly above the wrist. In shock, the audience looked immediately down at this feet, now uncovered by his robe and which also bore twin puncture marks.

“It is written that I was wounded for this man’s transgressions and crushed for his iniquities. Upon me was the chastisement that has brought him peace . . .”

The corpse screamed now in shrill protest, but the Advocate did not stop.

“. . . and by my stripes he is healed.”

“Noooooo!” the corpse howled, convulsing with anger.

The Advocate looked at the leathery dead man. “He is among those whom my Father has given to me, and he remains in me. His sentence has been served. It is finished.”

The angel seated in the tower slammed the gavel. “The defense therefore rests its case! Let the verdict be handed down!”

All eyes turned immediately to the throne with expectation.

The Alpha, his eyes still burning, spoke only one word.

“Innocent.”

Instantly the eighty-seven books around the courtroom burst into flame in their bearers’ hands, consumed by fire in a matter of seconds. The parchment covering the aisle, too, was instantly alight, transforming the aisle way into a white-hot river of heat. Those in the seats closest to the aisle recoiled in terror, their clothing singed by the flames that licked the edges of the pews.

After a few moments of commotion gasps rose up anew from those seated in the audience – this time directed toward the front of the room.

As the entire court watched, the man on the floor was transformed.

The bruises on his face, arms, and legs melted away, replaced by healthy, unblemished skin. The bloody gash on his collarbone slowly closed, leaving not a single trace of a scar. And his tattered robes, as though dipped in invisible dye that rippled upward from the bottom hem, were changing from muddy, sullen brown to a brilliant white that matched those worn by the Advocate. They reflected the light coming from the throne with such intensity that the corpse had to shield his eyes.

But the corpse sputtered with rage.

“He is mine!” he shrieked, darting for the man on the floor with gnarled hands extended, eyes white-hot. The serpent, now coiled near its master, hissed ferociously at its prey, opening its mouth to reveal razor-sharp, glistening fangs dripping with poison. It lunged to strike.

With unbelievable speed, the Advocate’s heel slammed down with such force that the shockwave from the impact with the floor reverberated off the walls of the courtroom. Blood and venom flew in all directions and the snake’s head was instantly crushed from the blow.

The corpse stopped short, wailing as though he had been stabbed. In horror the court looked on as the dead man’s body began to break apart – finally completing the decomposition that had obviously begun but was never finished. His already stretched and shriveled skin flaked and cracked as his skeletal frame disintegrated piece by piece. A final moan of rage escaped his sinking, wide-open jaw as his face fell away.

In a matter of moments nothing remained but a pile of dust upon which sat an empty crumpled, pinstriped suit.

Silence settled upon the court once more. As before, the absence of any sound left a void that seemed to fill the room. But this time, the void of was left unfilled by screams for mercy or protests of indignation.

This time everyone knew full well there would be no need for an appeal.

Sabbath

2010-02-07T20:16:00.000-08:00

One thing I have not done well - ever - is obeying the commandment to take a Sabbath.

That's right; the commandment. We forget that one - it's easy to remember the biggies; don't kill, don't steal, don't covet - but when it comes to remembering the Sabbath and keeping it holy we seem to fling it aside as a "lesser" commandment.

God takes it very, very seriously. Jeremiah 17 declares God will "kindle a fire" against those who do not keep the Sabbath.

What is the Sabbath? Listen to Matt Chandler explain it in a recent sermon at the Village Church.

We live an age where our very existence can become burdensome because of the sheer amount of information, responsibilities, and obligations being thrown at us. Sabbath is the day of the week when you totally unplug; when we take time to purposefully enjoy God, his creation, and his people. This means you can either seek solitude or community; or both.

Today I chose solitude. Feeling the need to spend some time in thought, prayer, and Scripture, I jumped on the 1:30 ferry from Seattle to Bremerton with my Bible, my journal, and a couple of other books I'm reading right now. I spent the trip to Bremerton reading Donald Whitney's Spiritual Disciplines for the Christian Life, which is a highly practical look at the things we as Christians need to be practicing in order to grow in Christlikeness and godliness (prayer, Bible intake/study, service, evangelism, etc). I would highly recommend it to any of you looking to grow closer to Jesus and know him better. I just finished the first 3 chapters on Bible study and found them really helpful.

Once I got to Bremerton, I parked it at Starbucks for a good hour or so and dug into Genesis. I never thought I would actually enjoy reading Genesis like some kind of novel; but I did. And it's amazing what you pull out of Scripture if you take the time to make some notes to yourself in a notebook while you read. Then I jumped on the 4:15 ferry back to Seattle and continued to read Genesis the whole way. It was incredibly refreshing, relaxing, and wonderful to shut off my phone for the afternoon and just be. It's 8:30pm on Sunday right now and I feel totally relaxed and ready to dive into Monday morning at work. Refreshed.

One of the things on my life plan for 2010 is to rein in the use of my free time a bit; this means using my free time more productively rather than just frittering it away with idle pursuits (Facebook, Twitter, laying around watching movies). It means discipline for taking a Sabbath. It means reining in technology in my life a bit and breaking some of the control it has on me (I realized today that I never, ever turn my cell phone off. That's not good).

What about you? How will you Sabbath in 2010?

Genuine?

2010-02-01T21:55:00.000-08:00

I had a conversation a couple of weeks ago that I had been dreading and fearing for some time regarding sin my life that I have been working through. It was a hard conversation to have for a lot of reasons, but probably chief among them was the wounding of my own pride when it was pointed out to me that the motive behind my attempts to "get right" with God wasn't really getting right with him at all.

For some time now I have felt like a prodigal that can't get home - like no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't reconnect with God. I couldn't get back that sense of being right in his sight. I felt condemned and doomed.

It was pointed out to me that I was not, in fact, the younger prodigal son in the parable. I was the older son. The son who stayed home and worked silently but resentfully and pridefully, expecting to earn his father's estate. Not only that, but he was enraged when he saw grace poured out by his father toward his brother.

The father's response to his older son in the parable is eye-opening:

"Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours."

I was pondering this idea - that I was the older brother and not the younger - on my drive to work the next morning. To be honest, I was more than a little discouraged at hearing that; I was angry. I felt like I was being kicked when I was down. Why couldn't people just understand that I was cautious about moving forward with applying the Gospel to this area of my life because I wanted to be sure that my heart and motives were genuine? Surely it wouldn't be right to just rush blindly to a quick writing-off of my sins and ignore the seriousness of my transgressions.

I drove northbound in the darkness, sipping coffee and thinking over these things in great detail, asking myself questions to try and clarify where I was at with everything. One simple question stopped me cold: Why is it so important to me that I feel genuine about this? That seems to be holding me up not just now, but all the time in situations like this - what is so important about being "genuine" - and what does that even mean?

And as I passed the exit for Northgate Mall, it hit me.

It's important to me because I feel that if I'm genuine, God owes me a response. If I'm genuine, he can't just ignore me like I feel he does so often. It puts me in control.

It was one of the defining eureka moments of my life - a precious revelation from the Holy Spirit. It was one of those moments in which suddenly so much of your life - and so much of what you need to do in the future - becomes obvious and brilliantly clear. The logical consequences of this realization - that my desire for genuineness was essentially rooted in pride and in my desire to control God's redemption of me - spilled over me with all the refreshing relief of a waterfall. It was one of those moments when you know that the realization you've just had is going to affect the rest of your entire life. My thought process rushed.

As though your genuineness matters here, Matt? Do you think Paul was genuinely interested in finding God while traveling on the road to Damascus? No - quite the opposite. Isn't God able and willing to work with your heart where you're at right now, even if you're confused about where exactly that is? Doesn't God save sinners in his great providence and mercy, despite their filth? Didn't Christ die for us while we were yet sinners? Do you REALLY think you have to have it all figured out - to completely change and transform yourself - before you can come home? How can you even be transformed if you don't GO home?

And I instantly knew what I had to do. I instantly understood why repentance in this case meant taking a hold of my identity in Jesus. I was so struck that I said it out loud to an empty car.

"I don't have to do this anymore," I said softly. "I don't have to do this anymore!"

The excitement built as the full weight of a suddenly clear understanding of the Gospel spilled over. "You know what? I'm done! I'm done wallowing in pride-soaked despair about my state. I am adopted! I am accepted! And I am already home! I'm paid for! It's done!" - shouting now - "MY SIN DIED WITH JESUS CHRIST 2,000 YEARS AGO ON A CROSS. It's DONE and that person is DEAD and there is therefore now no condemnation for me in Christ Jesus!"

We see God's attitude toward the prideful, self-righteous sinner in the father's response to the older son: "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours." In other words, as we fret about not being "fixed" enough to come back into God's presence, not being "good" enough to stand before him, he lovingly reminds us: "Son, you're already mine. You never really left home, and everything I have is already yours."

What an amazing truth to think about.

When I got home from work that evening I took a dry-erase marker and scrawled in block letters across the top of my bathroom mirror:

THE OLD MATT IS DEAD.

And I went to bed in peace. I slept - to borrow a phrase my pastor uses - like a Calvinist.

I look at those big block letters each morning now as I brush my teeth. I later copied a passage from Ephesians 2 on the mirror next to it and am working on memorizing it:

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience -- among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ--by grace you have been saved -- and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.

I am so, so thankful that my standing before God has absolutely nothing to do with the person that I am or the things I have done or will do. That is the Gospel. That is what Jesus is about. My behavior, my so-called "good deeds" have absolutely nothing to do with how God sees me. I am a wicked man who is clothed only in the righteousness that Jesus has given me. He traded my rags for his robes.

And that knowledge brings a kind of security and peace that I cannot describe. I have not only not felt fearful or condemned since that day, but the particular temptation that once ensnared me like a vice is now completely gone. Gone.

I was walking through the distribution center at work today and was thinking about that. I couldn't help but smile. I thought to myself, I'm free. I'm free, and it's all because of You.

That's the God I know.

Coming Soon:

2010-01-23T13:42:00.000-08:00

"Court of Law" - an allegorical short story I've been working on for about 6 months. Hope to have it finished and posted here in the next week.

Changes

2010-01-17T18:53:00.000-08:00

Made a few changes to the layout to make things easier on the eyes. Obviously colors are a bit different and the text is bigger. What say you? Yea? Nea?

More changes to come soon, hopefully. This thing needs some refreshing!

Fear and Trembling

2010-01-04T22:42:00.001-08:00

This is a season of working out my salvation with fear and trembling.

Fear and trembling because I have sinned greatly, am totally helpless to fix my own heart and am completely naked before the throne of a holy, righteous, and just God.

I understand what the fear of God means now more than I ever have in my life. I have felt almost nothing but terror for a month now. The fear of God is borne out of taking a deep look into your own heart, into your desires, into your motivations, and facing the depravity that you find inside yourself. You look inside and realize that you are despicable and filthy to your core, that there is not one shred of good intention inside that rebellious heart of yours. You see darkness, filth. You realize that, if left to your own devices, you are going to continue along the same path you have always been on. You realize that if you continue, you will die. You will die.

We go through life with this false sense of immortality. We say we know that someday we'll die, but we do not really believe it. We believe that our sin doesn't affect anyone but us, but we deceive ourselves. We live each day as though they will just keep coming, over and over - the sun will keep rising, our lungs will keep filling with air, our car will complete the commute to and from work without accident each day. These are all illusions. There is no safety. There are no guarantees. The only thing keeping you alive this very moment - and every moment thereafter - is the sheer grace and patience of God. Jonathan Edwards likened this to a spider being dangled over the flames of hell by but a slender thread of silken web, capable of being severed at any moment.

I am the spider.

True fear of God arises when this fact settles upon your soul and you realize that God does not owe you another breath. He does not owe you another day to figure things out. There is no guarantee you will be alive at this time next week.

Are you in a position to meet your maker within one week? If you knew that your life would end in 7 days, if you knew that in 7 days you would be standing before God to give an account for your life - how would you live differently? The truth is that this possibility is very, very real.

And as I stood on the deck of a cruise ship sailing across endless blue oceans and stared out at the setting sun, I realized - truly realized - that I was going to die. Soon. I would not continue living forever. I would face Him someday, and that someday might come much sooner than I anticipated. Would I presume upon the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience - unrepentant?

I have never, ever known the kind of terror that comes with that realization. It is worse than any fear I have ever felt because you cannot run from it. You can avoid places, things, people, movies, books that scare you - you can't escape your own soul or His justice. The weight of the Law weighs on you and haunts you.

I helped serve communion at church two weeks ago when they had an unexpected need for a couple people. Standing there at the front of the sanctuary, holding two goblets of wine and listening to the band play softly, the fear gave way to despair and brokenness.

"Jesus paid it all . . . all to Him I owe . . ."

The goblets shook, wine threatening to spill over their edges, as I trembled and fought back sobs. I knew I shouldn't be there. I looked down at the wine, blurry through tear-filled eyes, and almost dropped the glass goblets.

My hands are holding the blood I've spilled. His blood is all over my hands.

On a surface level, I know that it is all these things that make grace and the Gospel as powerful as they are. Our depravity highlights the riches of His grace and mercy. But I have known these things the way I know that two plus two is four. I have the sense that I have not yet fully known them on the level we are meant to, or that I have forgotten them. And so my hunger grows. My desperate need for Him grows. My sense of urgency grows. My need to get close to and stay close to Him, my need to throw myself at the foot of His cross, to feel the rough hewn timber and the splinters digging into my fingers, to see the blood run down from pierced hands and feet and to know that my sin is atoned for by the sacrifice before me grows.

And perhaps that is why God is allowing this season to go as long as it is. He is not only the author but also the perfecter of our faith. He disciplines those He loves - a truth I cling to now like a man adrift at sea praying for rescue clings to a life ring.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Hope of redemption and transformation drive us to continual, daily repentance of our sin. Lose hope of that transformation, lose hope in the goodness of Christ, and you lose everything. Trying to live in and with Christ without a continually renewed sense of real hope in what He has promised is like trying to breathe in a room without oxygen. It will not work, and you can only hold your breath so long before you collapse.

Yet His goodness is so great that He is actually there to catch us as we collapse from our rebellion. We come crawling home like a prodigal sullied in mud, broken, filthy, desecrated. Screaming in wretched agony, we cry out, "I delight in your Law, oh God, for it exposes my sin - have mercy on me, a sinner!"

And He, in His unbelievable mercy and goodness, makes all things new. Makes us new.

Our sin may leave scars. There are consequences. There is music to face. But there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. His plan is not to harm us. His discipline is not to harm us. Jesus. In His nail-pierced hands and feet I find freedom. Surrender of sin so that it may be nailed to the cross instead of me. Freedom from shame, from guilt, from fear and terror, from my past, present, and future. Forgiveness. Instead of the spikes that should be driven through them, my hands are filled with the wealth of His grace.

This is my collapse.

Praise God.

Make me new.

Prodigal

2009-12-03T00:25:00.000-08:00

Just give me what's mine and then leave me alone
I don't need you anyway

I don't want you or your charity
I just want the spoils
Wealth
Success
Reputation
Sex
Family

Just give it to me and leave me alone
Don't ask anything from me
I don't owe you anything
Leave me alone

==========

God, this is great
What a waste of time you were
Now I have (almost) all l I ever wanted and
Didn't have to give anything for it

Just a few more things
Just a few more and
then I'll be satisfied

You'll see

==========

It's harder than I thought
But I'll make this work
I know I can

Just a little more self-control and
discipline and
reading and
listening and
learning and
note-taking and
then I'll have it down

You'll see

==========

What happened
Everything was going so well

This is all your fault

You didn't give me enough
You rigged the stakes against me
You won't take temptations away
I bet it's a fun game for you
Watching this

But I'll come out on top
Just a little longer
Just a little more

You'll see

==========

Oh God, what have I done
Look at me

I'm broke
washed up
cast down
filthy
alone

What have I done
Oh God
Look at what I've done
Look at
what
I've done

Look at these
Unclean lips
Bloody rags of
counterfeit righteousness

Damned

Can't talk to you
be with you
look at you

You'll see

======

Last-ditch shot
I can't fix it
Any of it

But maybe
Maybe I can wash your feet
Clean your house
Tend your crops
Feed your pigs
Care for your cattle

Just make me a
slave
lowly
marginalized

Just give me a
place to rest
scraps from your table
shelter

And I'll do whatever you want

It's too late for me
to be a son again

But maybe I
can find my
way back

======

Dust from the road caked
on my
bloody
bare feet

Wheezing
Half-blind

I can see you already
Your house
Your crops
Blurry

What

You're

Moving
Running

To me

Oh my God

What are you doing
Throwing your
arms around me
Kissing me
Your tears of
joy
flowing

What's this
ring
coat
shoes
calf

What's this
white robe for this your
whore
bastard son

adopted back
as
heir

It can't be
This is too much to
understand
take in
appreciate
pay back

I can't do it

But you
promise
you can

and now

I'll see

Yawn.

2009-11-23T22:07:00.001-08:00

Battling apathy is a common theme for the last six months and something I'm really struggling with lately. Have I always been this lazy?

No Peace

2009-11-15T15:10:00.000-08:00

There is so much that I am thinking about right now in regards to the future....there is not a lot of peace in thinking about these things, which causes me fear. The thing is, I don't know whether that lack of peace is just a result of fear of the unknown that I am afraid to jump into, or whether it's an indication that I should stay the present course and not do the things I'm thinking about doing.

Is that ambiguous enough? Haha!

Prayer would be appreciated.

Ruby Beach

2009-11-01T13:24:00.000-08:00

OLYMPIC PENINSULA - October 16, 2009

The rain had started in Seattle and had not stopped nearly the entire trip. It pounded with a ferocity I had rarely seen as I drove out of the city, as though pushing back against the car to prevent my departure. The wind drove the rain with even greater force and whipped through the trees, bending their tops.

Eventually the rain subsided and even stopped for a while; now, hours later and as I rounded the northwestern tip of the Olympic Peninsula and turned south on 101, it was diminishing to little more than a drizzle. I passed through dense forests and through Forks, where I saw the word “Twilight” at least two dozen times in three blocks.

After stopping for gas and coffee, I continued into the forest, guiding the car through the foggy drizzle and lazy curves of the two-lane highway.

The sign for Ruby Beach came out of nowhere along the straight stretch of road between the evergreens, and without thinking I slammed the brakes and jerked the wheel to the right, flying off the main road and onto the dirt side road that hugged the cliff’s edge. This was not a planned stop and I was still sixty miles from my destination. Through the fog and the trees to my left I suddenly saw the ocean, churning violently and so close it seemed to threaten to scale the cliff.

Parking the car at the trailhead, I rolled up my jeans, not bothering to trade flip-flops for shoes, and stepped out into the rain, which was now nothing more than a mist that filled the air and smelled of sea salt. The trail down to the beach was surprisingly short, but the sight that greeted me at the bottom was even more surprising.

A rushing, silt-laden river spilled out of the forest at the base of the trail, its banks completely concealed by the overhanging evergreens and fiery deciduous trees ablaze with fall colors. It looked like a Northwest version of the huge brown rivers on the Discovery channel as they flow lazily through the Amazon.

As it approached the beach, the riverbed suddenly banked to the right, flanked by the massive driftwood logs that had floated down the river and then been forced back up the beach by the superior strength of the Pacific in a war of waters. River pushed; ocean pushed back. The result was that it was impossible to reach the beach without climbing over the tangled mass of cedar and fir that formed the cease-fire line between the river and the ocean.

Smooth, polished stones formed most of the upper beachhead, crafted and then deposited by the river and making for an unusual but beautiful look; I’d seen rocky beaches before – this is the Northwest – but this was much different.

Scattered along the beach, as though tossed from the cliffs by giants, were huge scraggy rock masses that stuck out of the water and received the brunt of the Pacific’s angry pounding. Their rough tops sprouted green moss and small trees and their bases were polished astonishingly smooth by the waves, giving them the appearance of slowly oxidizing gray metal; they changed color from brown to gray in a seamless, shiny wet gradient, finally blending with the sand at the bottom. Other smaller, equally smooth rock formations littered the beach, leading me to believe that just under the sand must lie a vast expanse of solid rock, likely volcanic.

Enshrouding it all was the thick fog rolling in from the Pacific, giving the entire scene an eerie but somehow peaceful quality. I was dumbstruck. The expanse of nature in front of me screamed of the awesome power of God displayed in His creation.

The most impressive element in the scene – and the one that got my attention immediately – was the ocean. I climbed over the logs and made my way to the confluence of river and sea, totally in awe of the might that felt as though it rushed outward from the very water itself as it pounded the beach.

And I instantly felt very, very small.

Standing on one of the smooth, flat rocks, I stared out over the Pacific in silence. The only distinguishing feature between the horizon separating cloudy sky and steel water was a slightly darker shade of gray. The ocean’s foam was a light brown that frothed and spit in all directions as the breakers slammed into each other with such violent force that occasionally a wave would burst unexpectedly through the throng and rush up the beach, forcing me to retreat. There was no distinguishable in-out, peaceful wave lapping pattern at the beachhead. The ocean just churned and frothed and leaped with rage as the wind howled.

God, this is so like you. The thought came from nowhere as I stared out at the water.

I’m standing here, this little man confronted with this massive ocean so much bigger than I am – I want so badly to run into it, to experience it, to get more of it; but if I rushed into those waves I would die. You’re the same way right now – so close, so incredibly powerful, but just out of reach. Why can’t I feel you? Where is my heart? Why can’t I seem to get near you?

I sighed. That was exactly why I’d come out to the peninsula – to get away from all the noise, all the static, all the responsibilities, all the commitments. Each day felt like a slogging ordeal that seemed to never end, and yet I was not making enough time for myself nor, more importantly, for Jesus. I felt drained, exasperated, tired, and constantly on edge. I was beyond dysfunctional at work, completely unable to focus, and stumbling around in every other area of life. I desperately needed time alone with Jesus so that I could examine my heart, talk to Him, try to sort out priorities and plan for the future.

I had lost my passion for everything – including the Gospel, a fact which scared me more than anything else. I could not shake the extremely discomforting suspicion that I was nothing more than a religious Pharisee, trying to use God to get what I really wanted and getting angry when He didn’t give it.

A great weight of inauthenticity was pressing upon me and getting heavier every day; and it was eating away at my soul and my passion like a slow and steady acid drip. Fake, fake, fake. Liar, liar, liar. You don’t know Him. Stop acting like you do. Even if you tried He wouldn’t care – He knows you don’t really want Him. You just want to be a better version of you – admit it. You make Him sick, you know that? Look around you – you know why you don’t have passion like those people? Because you don’t know Him. And you’re never going to have passion like those people, because you’re never GOING to really KNOW Him. You’re going to spend the rest of your life fooling yourself into thinking you know Jesus. And sooner or later everyone is going to see you for what you really are . . . and someday, He’ll see it too. And then it will be far, far too late for you. Can you hear it already? “Depart from me . . . “ Fake, fake, fake.

I was terrified.

And so the peninsula trip had thus been planned a month and a half ago, a desperate and last-ditch effort to cry out to God with my whole heart – and all its inauthenticity – from the best place I could think of – the edge of my known world. This was quite literally it – nothing but the mighty and vast ocean stood before me. I prayed silently. Here I am, God. I’m on edge, literally and figuratively. Please come and meet me here. I’m not even sure I’m here with a pure heart, but I need you to make it right.

For a while there was no answer. I simply stared out in silence at the leaden water and waited.

My thoughts drifted back to the Genesis sermon I’d listened to earlier that week. Mark had made a point that I had not expected or ever heard before: God is a God intimately involved in His creation, not some kind of watchmaker who made a clock, wound it up, and then stepped back to let it run. He speaks and the sun rises, the wind blows, and the waves crash. He speaks over it still today, not just at the time of creation.

And then suddenly I knew why I was here and what He was quietly whispering to my heart.

My hands have made this ocean, this beach, this surf. With my hands and with my words I cause the waves to crash and the tides to change, the wind to blow, the sun to rise and set. I tell the waters to churn or the seas to calm and they will obey me. This ocean before you is mine. If I am so involved in my oceans, why do you believe I am not involved with you? Do you not know that you are more precious to me than my seas?

I felt hope flare up like an ember in wind.

Do you remember when you were a boy and you stared out at this same ocean and realized that I made it to reflect my glory and to show you my love for you? Why do you now doubt my love? You tremble rightly when you look into your heart; but do you not believe that I am capable of purifying even that which is impure? If you have been justified by my Son’s blood, will you not also be spared from my wrath through His blood? No, your heart is not pure, and no, you have not sought me – I sought you.

Motion in my peripheral vision caught my eye. I looked up just in time to see a bald eagle alight on the top of one of the scraggy rocks, less than a hundred feet from where I stood. The eagle preened itself briefly and then stared at me for a moment before also turning its gaze out over the waters, blinking in the wind.

This is my ocean. All of this is my creation and so are you.

Peace rushed like the river slamming into the ocean.

The God who had made the limitless ocean stretched out before me was the same God pursuing me. The same God who desired a relationship with me. The same God who was intimately involved in every minute detail of my life.

I had been meditating on Romans 5:5 on the way out to the peninsula, longing for such an outpouring of the Spirit. I longed for the hope of the joy that would spur me to persevere. And so I continued to mediate and pray.

Father, please send your Holy Spirit and pour out your love into me. Do verse 5! Please! I don’t even know what that means, but please just do it!

It occurred to me that at the root of my terror was something that I had felt ever since I was a child. It was my view of God as a Father.

God, to me, was a strict, serious, not-to-be-trifled with Father who was not particularly fond of me as a son. In fact, I was probably His greatest disappointment. He was usually angry and would withhold Himself from me if I was disobedient – and sometimes even when I wasn’t, just to make me squirm. He loved me out of obligation and not out of selflessness; he longed to punish me, not lovingly correct and prosper me; and He was probably very, very sorry that I even existed.

And so I lived in constant dread of disappointing Him through my perpetual failures. Obedience on my part, then, was not out of love or joy but out of fear. And I doubted that God would help me because, in my view, I was not loved.

And is that what you see here, at my ocean? He whispered again. Do you see obligatory involvement? Disinterest? Punishment?

I thought for a moment. No, Lord. I see power. I see orchestrated beauty in creation and your hands in it. And that means You are good. That means you care for me.

Then why do you doubt me, Matthew?

I could say nothing but no response was needed. And so I looked out over the Pacific as the wind howled and the leaden, frothy waves churned, confident in His power and fully assured of His trustworthiness.

I Do Confess

2009-10-27T20:07:00.000-07:00

If you could love me as a wife
and for my wedding gift your life
Should that be all I'll ever need
or is there more I'm looking for

and should I read between the lines
and look for blessings in disguise
To make me handsome, rich, and wise
Is that really what you want

I am a whore I do confess
I put you on just like a wedding dress
and I
run down the aisle
I run down the aisle
I'm a prodigal with no way home
I put you on just like a ring of gold
and I run down the aisle
I run down the aisle
to you

So could you love this bastard child
Though I don't trust you to provide
With one hand in a pot of gold
and with the other in your side

Cause I am so easily satisfied
by the call of lovers so less wild
That I would take a little cash
Over your very flesh and blood

I am a whore I do confess
I put you on just like a wedding dress
and I
run down the aisle
I run down the aisle
I'm a prodigal with no way home
I put you on just like a ring of gold
and I run down the aisle
to you

-Derek Webb,
"Wedding Dress"

Pharisee

2009-10-14T21:04:00.001-07:00

Where is my heart?

Where is my passion for the Gospel?

Where is my broken and contrite spirit?

I am a religious pharisee.

My planned 2 days of solitude this Friday and Saturday could not be coming at a better time. I am desperately in need of some time alone with the Lord. I need time to think, to pray, to write, to be still, to cry out. There is a lot for Jesus and I to talk about, a lot to pray about, a lot to plan about.

I am really looking forward to that. Please be praying for me, that these 2 days would be fruitful and a time of much-needed rest, conviction, and encouragement with Jesus.

Zechariah

2009-09-28T22:02:00.000-07:00

I want to be a man like Zechariah in Luke 1. I want to burn incense of prayer to God and ask genuinely and repeatedly in faith for that which I desire for decades, never losing faith that God will one day answer that prayer - be that answer yes, no, or later.

Tunnel

2009-09-20T17:44:00.000-07:00

Just when I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel, the tunnel extends itself by another 20 miles; just when I think it's all almost over, I find out that it's really only just beginning. I feel like I'm on a treadmill on days like today. Just when I thought I was just about done with this stretch of the journey, this chapter in the story, I realize that reaching the end of that chapter was an idol and that I've been chasing nothing except my own false worship. My little golden calf crumbles like sand falling through my fingers.

Learnin'

2009-09-16T21:00:00.001-07:00

I'm learning a lot right now, but three big things in particular:

1. Prayer. I do not pray enough, and we totally underestimate the power of prayer - not because our prayers somehow make things happen out of our own power, but because God is good and God delights in His children taking time to talk to Him and ask things of Him. He delights in giving to us the desires of our hearts when we delight ourselves continually in Him.

It is amazing to me how quickly things start to happen when you dedicate yourself to prayer in a serious way, laying things before the Lord and asking that His perfect will be done with them. As CS Lewis writes, "we are far too easily pleased" and we so often fail to just ASK God about the things that are on our hearts. So often I catch myself worrying about things that I should be praying about. I'll worry and worry and try to think of solutions rather than just starting with prayer. Why does it take so long to get this? I must have a really thick head. Thank God that God is patient.

2. Rest, work/life balance, and the size of your plate. I have made a habit out of leaving the office no more than 9 hours after walking into it for weeks now, and I cannot tell you all what a difference it has made. I leave a ton undone each day and yet I am totally at peace about it because I'm realizing how much richer life is when you take the time to do things other than work - like rest, connect with people, develop new skills, and cast vision for where you're going with this big thing we call life. Far too easy to get caught up in the day-to-day slog and lose sight of the mission God has us on. It's important to continually seek solitude and prayer, and that's not something I do enough.

Rest. I mean REAL rest - not laying on the couch watching tube. I mean really, truly refreshing rest. Reading a book outside in the sunshine on a summer day. Spending some time in prayer and journaling. Reading your Bible. Getting together with friends for a low-key evening of time together. Too often our "rest" is nothing more than just physical downtime, and they're not synonymous.

I'm also learning the importance of knowing the size of your plate and filling it accordingly. First, know how much you really CAN do or be involved in - how much free time and energy you REALLY have. Then use your time and energy wisely and to God's glory. This means taking some things off your plate and putting others on - but most importantly, when you put something on the plate, something else has to come off. Always. This is a hard one for me to learn. I recently stepped down from the Prayer Team at church, and it was a difficult decision to make, but I am confident it was the right one. I am able to focus more mental energy, more of my spiritual giftings - and more prayer - on the things that really need them right now, like Community Group and Theology Response Team.

3. Strategic Chaos. Sometimes it is necessary as a leader to create strategic chaos. This means allowing things to break down in a certain area or allowing a need to be felt and seen in order to force your troops to rally. I tend to be the type that, when a need is seen or felt, will just step in and fill it because it needs to be done. I am learning this is one of the worst things you can do to yourself - it drains you, exhausts you, and causes burnout. In order to lead effectively, you have to know when to step in and when to step back and say, "I need to let someone else step up to the plate here." That means being OK with it if no one DOES step up to the plate, in which case God is probably trying to tell your team something.

Trying to do it all yourself is nothing more than yet another form of pride masked as "get it done"-ness. I know that I am all too often afraid to let the system break down because I don't want it to reflect badly on me. But it's not about me, and ultimately God is in control of the system. He will do with it what He pleases.

Psalm 25

2009-09-07T00:00:00.000-07:00

Turn to me and be gracious to me,
for I am lonely and afflicted.
The troubles of my heart are enlarged;
bring me out of my distresses.
Consider my affliction and my trouble,
and forgive all my sins.
-Psalm 25:16-18

Kill the Pride

2009-08-30T20:23:00.000-07:00

I am very grateful for the friends God has placed in my life - friends who are not afraid to call me out on my sin when I can't see it. Had a great talk with a buddy of mine the other night about things going on in life - community group, service at church, finding a wife - the whole kit n' kaboodle. A wonderful deutsches Bier at Feierabend and a close friend are one of the fastest ways I know to cut to the chase of what is really going on in life. Some of the best conversations I have had with friends about the real issues they're facing have happened in that setting.

I will be honest - "frustrated" is not quite a strong enough word for how I have felt lately. Trying to steer and lead a community group is something that I am learning as I go, and which I can only liken to learning how to drive a stickshift by going on San Francisco hilly surface streets during rush hour. I have made a lot of mistakes along the way, mostly in the area of things I should have done but did not do. I am learning what it means to take responsibility in that way. There are changes that need to be made, vision that needs to be cast.

Aside from that, this has been a season of life generally marked by exhaustion and a sense of being worn down. I've felt like I haven't gotten fed enough, like I have nothing left to give - I've felt a sense of apathy and lack of desire to reach out at all. But I am learning that I don't manage my time well enough, don't take care of myself enough (sleep and diet), and consequently have become tired, irritable, and flat-out not that great to be around. Exhaustion tends to bring out our true nature in the worst way. And I can hardly complain that I am not getting fed if I do not use the time I have well. This is something that has to change immediately.

My problem is pride. I am all about Matt. Matt's success in all areas: work, Mars Hill, community group, relationships...It's all become about making Matt look good. Not only that, but the idea that Matt deserves X, Y, and Z: Matt deserves a successful community group that explodes in numbers. Matt deserves a pay raise and a promotion. Matt deserves a wife.

That's not OK, because in reality I deserve nothing. I had to confess that this morning. I have to let go. That pride has to be killed.

It continually amazes me how faithful God is to respond when we capitulate and give in. Even in the space of today I can feel the closeness returning. I don't understand that kind of loyalty and faithfulness.

It's time to get up off the ground and start running again.

Still Here

2009-08-24T18:26:00.001-07:00

Yep, I'm still alive, people - just been busy lately. Also trying to spend a little less time online and more time doing constructive things, like reading. And reading. Nothing of major importance to update ya'll on right now anyway, except that I am trying to regress to the bookworm roots of my youth.

Now, off to go read a book!

God's Chisel

2009-08-09T19:12:00.001-07:00

I am really, really thankful for God's working on my heart and on my character. It's not always fun or enjoyable (in fact it very, very rarely is), but at the end of the road there's nothing better. Anything good in me I owe to Him.

Romans 8 Shows Up

2009-08-04T20:51:00.000-07:00

You know, it's funny.

These days, my old struggles seem hardly even consequential most of the time. The complete lack of control over my own mind, the depression, the sense of darkness that hung over everything - these all seem like bad dreams that I had when I was young, not facts of life just a few short years ago. And lately, it seems like most days just pass by without much thought to what was once the most enslaving sin in my life. Even temptation is easy to say no to. It's just not attractive. I know where those roads lead, and I don't want to go down them.

But this season of relative calm and peace always gets disturbed, because there's eventually a moment where I get totally blindsided, out of nowhere, and it's all I can do not to flip out because of the pressure. They happen during some of the most inconsequential moments of life: shopping at the grocery store, writing an email at work, having a cup of coffee, reading a book, driving in my car. Yesterday one hit while driving home from work.

Two things happen in those moments:

1. I am profoundly conscious of the fact that there is an excruciating, deep longing that I don't think I will ever be able to fully describe. It is as though a vacuum opens up at the core of your being and begins to swallow everything like a black hole. But no matter how much it takes, it can't be satiated, and feeling that futile desire is probably as close to hell as I will ever get.

2. Even in the intense feeling of the idolatrous desires of my heart, I am profoundly conscious of my burning desire to go home. Home home. My soul groans for redemption in these moments.

In these moments I have to remind myself that the Holy Spirit is interceding for me with groanings too deep for words. For I know not what I should pray at those times. I have no words to speak, can't speak, can't think, can't focus, can't even breathe sometimes. But what I could never express if I wrote volumes or talked for years is known by my Father, and His will is known by the Spirit. And the Spirit intercedes for me according to my Father's will. Romans 8:26-27. My Father's will. Not my imperfect, selfish, quick-fix will.

What an amazing fact that is. Let that sink in for a moment. When you can't even breathe, God sends His Spirit to intercede on your behalf, to accomplish His good and perfect will.

And I believe that His will in those moments is twofold.

1. He allows that profound, excruciating longing to be felt for a reason. He doesn't just make it stop. And the reason for that is to continue to draw my attention to Him, the one who created me and who is therefore the only one capable of truly satisfying it legitimately, to His glory and my joy.

2. As He reminds me to look to Him and the cross, He desires me to be acutely aware of my own sanctification. He desires me to read on to verse 28, where He assures me that all things - even these moments of intense trial - work together for the good of those who are called according to His purposes. This is for my good because I am called according to His purposes. This means that I am blessed on the days when these moments of intense trial and temptation come my way, when I feel that if it doesn't let up I just won't be able to make it another day. Why?

Because this is what it looks like to work out your salvation with fear and trembling. Philippians 2. We are to be obedient even to death as Christ was obedient to death on a cross. Obedience to the point of the death of our sin, putting it to death day in and day out. These horrible moments - in the grocery store, in the car - these are the opportunities for me to understand what it means to have my sin nailed to a cross so that it may die and I may live.

These are the death throes of the old heart's idolatry and the sanctification of your new heart. You are being transformed to look more like Jesus. 2 Corinthians 3:18. From one degree of glory to another.

Jesus cried out, hanging from my cross 2,000 years ago, that it is finished. My redemption is accomplished. The veil has been torn from top to bottom. I think that of all the images in Scripture, that is the one that is the most emotionally powerful for me. Can you imagine? Can you imagine the sky turning black, rolling clouds, a powerful earthquake, and the veil shorn in two? The Most Holy Place, once a room of privilege, fear, and unparalleled risk, now exposed to all; open, free, inviting, in the most beautiful symbolism ever to grace the face of the earth?

In that moment 2,000 years ago, my redemption was finished. It was accomplished. Period. End of sentence, end of story. Matthew's story ends with redemption.

All that remained was for me to be born and to live out the story that had now been written. And so here I am, living this story. Working out my salvation in the produce section of Safeway, in the right lane on Westlake avenue, at a streetside table at Uptown Espresso. All according to His will and through the intercession of the Holy Spirit.

You need to know that the story of your life is not the story of what you did with the years you were alive. The story of your life is the story of a God who transforms. He re-creates. He makes all things new.

He makes all things new.

Psalm 6

2009-07-27T22:28:00.000-07:00

Oh Lord, rebuke me not in your anger,
nor discipline me in your wrath.

Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing;
heal me, O Lord, for my bones are troubled.

My soul also is greatly troubled.
But you, O Lord - how long?

Restless

2009-07-27T18:45:00.001-07:00

Were it not for the help of Tylenol PM, I would not be sleeping much right now. I can't shut my mind off and I can't quiet all of the troubles that are weighing on me. There is so much on my mind that I'm quickly reaching the breaking point. I want to throw up my hands at the sky and scream at God, "Why - why, when it counts the most, won't you give me clear guidance? Why do you ALWAYS go silent when I need to hear you most urgently?" I feel so much pressure inside and I can't take it anymore.

Time to read the Psalms. And pray. And seek counsel.

But I'm done just not doing anything. I'm done sitting around and waiting for changes to come. I need to act, possibly take a risk, and soon, because I need to know if I'm missing out on what God has in store.

Is it just me?

2009-07-18T21:37:00.000-07:00

Two weeks of vacation and now I'm officially restless. I'm ready to go back to work. I was feeling totally refreshed and ready to hit the grindstone again on Wednesday, but on Friday as we drove home, the familiar weight, the sinking feeling of despair started coming back - not about work, but just about everything else right now.

I'm really starting to ask myself if I'm not just a colossal idiot. I spend so much time wondering when X or Y or Z is going to happen. Maybe it's time that I get off my duff and just make it happen. Maybe it's all right in front of me. Maybe I'm just blind.

Waste Not, Want Not

2009-07-10T23:26:00.000-07:00

Today I called Comcast and told them to shut off cable TV. "What's the problem with the service? What's going on?" The woman on the other end sounded genuinely concerned.

"It sucks up too much time," I told her. "I just don't want it anymore."

There was this pause of silence on the other end of the line as she processed what must have been the unthinkable. And then she managed to persuade me to actually keep the cable activated but instead downgrade it to "limited" cable, which is apparently like 18 channels. Whatever. The cost of doing that versus keeping just internet was $2 less expensive (the cost for the internet itself almost doubles when it's not a bundle) so I just did it. I'm not planning on connecting the cable to the TV anyway, so yes, Comcast, I will gladly pay you less money for a service I won't use.

I packed up the cable box and remote control and took them into the Comcast store later in the day. I feel so liberated, not because cable TV was this huge drain on my time (it was) but more so because this was something I had identified in my life plan for the next year that was just a huge time-sucker, and it feels good to have taken a concrete step of action toward that plan. It gives me hope that I can actually achieve some of the things on my life plan this year. Now instead of watching TV on Saturday mornings or on weekday evenings I will read instead.

I know what you're thinking: shutting off his cable is a big achievement? Yes. It is. So is scheduling doctor and dentist appointments. Baby steps, people. Baby steps.

1st Week of Vacay Already Half Over!

2009-07-08T22:15:00.001-07:00

And there is still so much recharging to be done and rest to be had. The plan for now is to head either east or west this Friday for a short overnight jaunt, either to Eastern Washington or all the way to the coast, maybe somewhere along the Olympic Peninsula, which I have never actually circumnavigated.

The plan for the overnight jaunt is to shut off the Blackberry, take my Bible, a notebook, my journal, and a pen, and find a quiet place to sit outside and write, journal, and pray for about a day and a half. I had originally hoped on going up into the mountains, but since I don't really have the gear for that and don't really feel like spending the money on getting it right now, I will probably find a cheap cabin to rent somewhere and do that; unless, of course, the cost of renting a cabin for one night is equal to what it would cost to buy a tent and some basic camping gear - then I'm roughing it.

It has been really nice to not be getting up for work in the morning at the usual time, to sleep and wake up without an alarm, go to the gym, read a book (started Tim Keller's The Reason for God this week), and hang out with friends. I feel so much better, and apparently I must look it too because as I was leaving my apartment today the front desk girl told me I had my "relaxed Matt" face on. I wasn't aware there was a "wound-up Matt" face that I apparently wear for most of my days; something to pray about I guess.

In any case, I feel like this time needs to be used well in order to practice listening to God in quiet, doing some reflection and prayer over the next couple of years of life, and planning. Lots of life areas to hit up: work, community group, relationships, redemption, growth. Lots of heavy lifting but I am excited.

DISC

2009-07-07T13:34:00.003-07:00

Just took a DISC Test:

Dominance: 28
Influence: 20
Steadiness: 8
Compliance: 44

The only thing that really surprises me is the Steadiness factor. I would have considered myself a more steady person than an 8. But hey, I guess the anal-retentiveness wins out over steadiness. Ha!

Relief in Fragility

2009-06-29T22:47:00.000-07:00

Even though Redemption Group is officially over, the sense of fragility that hung over all of life during that time has remained, in large part, intact. I am beginning to wonder if the Lord is trying to teach me something about the emotional state that I've held toward him for so long - a state of guarded trepidation and a lack of surrender. Lately it seems like all I know how to do anymore is collapse in surrender. And being able to do that is pretty amazing.

Jesus, I am continually in awe of the fact that you continue to put up with me, continue to pursue me, and continue to bless me even as I sprint in the other direction. So often these days I just don't know how to respond to Your incredible grace other than just weep with joy and gratitude, finding myself in a place that is almost comically childlike.

I have missed You. I'm so sorry for running. Give me a heart that runs to you, not away from you.

AHHHHHHHHHH

2009-06-22T19:09:00.000-07:00

Holy freaking goodness.

I'm really trying to get this whole priorities-on-the-plate thing down, and all I can say is that it feels like the low priority stuff just fights all the more ferociously to steal the day.

Everything's Right

2009-06-16T21:35:00.000-07:00

Quiet contentedness tonight. Just some time with Jesus. And the world and all its trials and trivialities melt away when I'm with Him.

Everything's right tonight.

Psalm 69

2009-06-07T23:04:00.000-07:00

I had never really thought about it until this last week, when someone called me out on it and asked that I examine my heart about this, but I've realized something about the journey that I've been on: I am frustrated not with the situation, but with God.

I am angry with God.

Angry and frustrated at what just doesn't seem to be fair. Why me, God? Why have you allowed me to suffer this way for so long? And when is it going to be enough? I've done ABC and not done XYZ - what more do you want? There is a part of my heart that screams at heaven and shakes its fist in anger. I hate this. And I hate you for letting it go on so long. You say you love me but you continue to let me suffer. What have I done wrong?

And even as I delve deeper into that anger and take it to Him in honesty, there is a parallel sense of brokenness and raw emotion coming out of this that I don't know how to process. I'm struck more deeply than ever before in my life by the significance of the cross, humbled and shamed by its power and my undeserved state. I'm desperate for a way out, for redemption, and even as my heart screams in anger, it also screams in agony and pleads for deliverance.

Today I absolutely lost it in the middle of worship at church. Psalm 69 was the catalyst.

Help me God
For the water's come up to my neck

I sink down
I cannot stand without

I've gone blind
while waiting for Your voice

Tears run down
My lungs have had enough

Hear, hear me now
Don't hide Your face from me
now
Hear, hear me out
Don't hide Your face from me
now

It struck to the core of a heart hardened by anger and frustration like a hot knife through butter. I almost ended up on the floor, clinging to and sobbing into the back of the chair in front of me.

It's because even through everything - all the anger, all the frustration, all the pride, all the rebellion - there is still a scared little boy who just wants to call out to his Father for help. He cries out in fear and desperation, not confident that his Father will even answer him, terrified of His wrath but desperately in need of mercy and rescue. Love, the boy believes, must be earned - and it is fragile, easily shattered. And it's still not enough to make the boy let go of the thing he wants even more than his Father's smile.

And that is why the cross is so powerful.

Because the truth is that Jesus' love isn't fragile and it isn't easily shattered. And even as I come to Him like a child, kicking and screaming and refusing to let go of my own picture of redemption - refusing to surrender the deepest places - He still holds me securely in His arms and whispers to me until I calm down, even as I try to escape. Like a father restraining a child throwing a tantrum, he refuses to let me have it my way.

I've got you. Too long have you fought me. Too long have you held on to your own poorly conceived notion of redemption and transformation. Too long have you been content making mudpies in a slum. I have plans, and My perfect will shall be done. And I'll whisper as long as it takes.

You know what Jesus? You're pretty friggin' awesome.

2009-05-31T22:19:00.000-07:00

Evidence of God's grace: knowing you're being used by Him less than an hour after asking Him to use you where you're at.

That's the God I serve.

Trial

2009-05-31T21:22:00.000-07:00

It's timely and providential that we hit this series at Mars Hill, Trial, at this current period in my life. I am in a trial. I wasn't when we started the series a couple of months ago, but I sure am now.

Life is just weighty right now. I can't explain everything making it up because it's just too big to really capture it all, but I've felt this enormous weight just hanging over my heart during the past month. Every day seems excruciating and every night is lonely. I have so much time to myself these days that I am left alone with my thoughts and the issues on my heart, most of which are difficult to examine. I think God has deliberately removed a lot of old comforts from my life, things I used to spend time on in order to distract myself from how miserable I would be if I were alone.

But lately there's nowhere to hide and I'm understanding what a pastor told me a few months ago - that processing all of this, working through all these issues, would be the most difficult thing I'd ever done. That it would hurt beyond anything I'd been through. I think I'm there. And he was right - it's like having a slow burning fire inside you that you can't snuff out because you can't reach it; it just slowly scorches you from the inside out.

And all I want is comfort and relief; but Jesus apparently has other plans in mind. He's here in the suffering, yes; I see His face through the pain and He's here in the storm. But he has something larger in mind than just my comfort. He's after my sanctification through this. Transformation.

Jesus, help me suffer well. My will is for comfort and release; but not my will - Your will be done in this storm. Command the waves, let them wash over the edges of my boat if need be; let the wind howl; let the rain fall. Let me only be safe in Your arms and in the promise of Your regeneration of this sickly heart. If it isn't for me to know what Your purposes here are - let me only make much of You while the storm rages.

Sabbath

2009-05-28T22:35:00.000-07:00

I desperately need some time to sabbath and recharge this weekend. I'm running on an empty tank in just about every area - personally, spiritually, relationally, and work-wise. I'm just totally spent. It's been like this for a while and I can't seem to get back to normal.

Don't Look Back

2009-05-25T21:58:00.000-07:00

"The turning of the Israelites hearts toward Egypt at Mount Sinai was merely the culmination of many longing looks over their shoulders that began almost the day they left Egypt."
-Redemption

We look at the Israelites' impatience for Moses to come down from Mount Sinai and their subsequent fashioning of their own idol as hilariously idiotic. How could they be so stupid as to melt down all their gold and make a cow out of it, then fall down in worship before it? Surely we are not so foolish.

But oh, we are. And I am.

Every impure thought that I relish and then allow to linger before finally brushing off; every moment spent thinking about how badly I want the deep, sinful longings of my heart to be fulfilled; every "second look" I allow myself - these are the glances I throw over my shoulder at my Egypt. They are not innocent. They are not okay. And they are not secrets to Him.

They are the chains that hold me here. And I am a fool to think that life would be better if I went back to Egypt. I am so pathetically content making mudpies in my slum that I cannot fathom the idea of making sandcastles on the ocean shore. Mudpies are safe - sandcastles are large, imposing, and risky.

Leaving Egypt is risky. Leaving Egypt is difficult. And leaving Egypt scares the living hell out of me.

But will I surrender these chains in repentance? Will I trust Jesus to part the seas that stand before me as the Enemy bears down in the distance? Will I then descend to the dark ocean floor and trust that He will keep the mighty waters at bay? And once on the other side, safe from my pursuer, will I trust Him to provide just enough, each day, to make it through? Or will I continue to throw glances over my shoulder at the very bondage that my gracious Redeemer is trying to save me from?

He has promised redemption, renewal, and recreation. So why am I still so preoccupied with slavery, stagnation, and death? In the stillness every night I can hear Him calling.

Run. Throw off your chains, trust me, keep your eyes on me, and run. Don't look back.

Just run.

Barter for Grace

2009-05-23T23:17:00.000-07:00

Oh Jesus - how can you possibly forgive me for what I've done? Even after years of knowing you, years of chasing after you and years of stumbles along the way - how can I still not grasp the concept of grace? Somehow I always come crawling back to you with my dirty rags, holding up worthless treasures, trying to barter for your grace in futility. Futile because I don't have to barter.

How can you give this grace to me for nothing? Don't you understand what I've done?

Yet you do understand.

And that's why I don't understand your grace.

Start a War

2009-05-18T23:44:00.000-07:00

Are you in a war with sin or a war against God? Think carefully.

My own conviction recently is that I have gone to war against God rather than going to war against my sin. I've allowed my heart to be taken captive by sinful desires rather than fighting for the deeper, more fulfilling desires that He has planted there. Not only have I allowed it to be taken captive - sometimes I've thrown it straight into sin without a thought.

The ensuing numbness is the worst part. I don't think that it's a coincidence that numbness is a side effect of death and death is the wages of sin.

My selfishness is truly astounding. Truly.

I fail to realize most days that I am born into a war. The world is at war, and our hearts are both the battlefield and the prize. Sometimes we ignore the war. Sometimes we call a cease fire for the sake of creating a false peace. And sometimes we need to start a war and break the cease fire. Rock our own boat.

It's time to start a war.

There Will Be a Day

2009-05-12T23:24:00.000-07:00

"9After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, 10and crying out with a loud voice, "Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!" 11And all the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, 12 saying, "Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen."
13Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, "Who are these, clothed in white robes, and from where have they come?" 14I said to him, "Sir, you know." And he said to me, "These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
15"Therefore they are before the throne of God,
and serve him day and night in his temple;
and he who sits on the throne will shelter them with his presence.
16 They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore;
the sun shall not strike them,
nor any scorching heat.
17For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd,
and he will guide them to springs of living water,
and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.""
-Revelation 7:9-17

That imagery has been so powerful for me over the past couple of days as I've thought about it. God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

There will be a day when God wipes this all away. There will be a day when I finally, finally get to kneel before my Jesus, draped in the white robes that He clothed me in, and kiss His feet with tears streaming down my face. There will be a day with no shame, no guilt, and no filth. I long for the day when He will reach down and wipe the tears from my eyes and say, "Well done, good and faithful servant." I long to know and understand who and what He sees when He looks at me. I want to see Him in all His unveiled glory, on His throne, reigning as the king that He is.

And even today my heart is broken with gratitude for this grace. What could He possibly have seen in this dirty, depraved man? What could I possibly have to offer this King of Kings? How could He possibly be so good? How could He trade my rags for his royal robes?

Jesus, how could You possibly love me that much?

There will be a day
with no more tears
no more pain
and no more fears

There will be a day
when the burdens of this place
will be no more
we'll see Jesus face to face.

There will be a day
He will wipe away the tears
He will wipe away the tears
He will wipe away the tears
-Jeremy Camp

God Delights in Forgiving Us

2009-05-12T12:28:00.000-07:00

Thinking today about the fact that God actually delights in forgiving us. Have you ever thought about that? I've always had this image of God begrudgingly forgiving me, impatiently wondering when I'll finally figure it out and stop screwing up so much.

But no - he actually delights in forgiving us and extending His mercy and grace to us. That's how incredibly good He is. It pleases Him to forgive us, wash us, and recreate us.

I'm kind of bowled over by that thought today.

Reverse-Engineer Your Life

2009-05-10T20:35:00.000-07:00

I've realized that lately I have lost sight of what is really important in my life. I haven't placed enough emphasis on the Gospel, on Gospel community, and on planning ahead, on taking real chances. Looking at a pareto of the things I spend my time on would be pretty embarrassing.

Work in particular has consumed too much. Work and wealth have too long been my idols. I sacrifice everything for their sake. Work forms the paradigm for the answer to every "How are you doing?" and hangs over every part of every day, even when I'm not there. And because it has become everything, it can't be anything to me when I'm actually there - I'm too drained from thinking about it all the time, from feeding it all the time, from trying to do it all. There is a fine line between working well, building your career with purpose, and simply working way too much on all the wrong things. I'm on the wrong side of that line.

The result is that I have found myself in this bizarre vacuum of just making it through each successive day. No real goal in sight, no 5-year plan; no 1-year plan, for that matter. Maybe that's why it's been so hard to get out of bed lately. Without real purpose we eventually wither. I have felt like I'm withering. Rather than wait around for opportunities at work to come to me, it's time to get out and chase them. Abandon fear of looking like an idiot.

I haven't allowed Christ to cause me to really risk too much because I'm too comfortable. Change is good - as long as it's the change I wanted and planned for. Otherwise it's just too scary. I like feeling like I'm in control, and that needs to change.

It's time to really go out on a limb and chase the things that I've always thought were unattainable because they weren't "safe"- personally, professionally, relationally, and spiritually. I need to reverse-engineer my life and live it with greater purpose. Intentionality.

Pastor Tim's sermon at Mars Hill Downtown today was incredibly convicting. It's true: no one dying alone in a nursing home wishes that they had spent more time at the office, amassed greater wealth, or collected more material possessions. I don't want that to be me.

Here goes. Jesus, establish my steps.

Stop Painting.

2009-05-05T20:32:00.000-07:00

Let me ask you something about your suffering:

Do you think that your obedience to God obligates Him to fix you? To make your suffering stop? To grant you the fulfillment of your wildest daydreams?

Is your motivation for following Jesus based on your concept of redemption instead of His? Are you dreaming up your own picture of what the world is going to look like when you meet up with that light at the end of the tunnel?

Are you in love with healing . . . or holiness?

Really ask yourself that. What do you really want? Do you want to be more like Jesus - or do you just want the picture you've painted, and you think that if you just obey Him long enough, hold out long enough, try hard enough - He'll give it to you?

Are you prepared to accept the possibility that what He's going to give you at the end of all this suffering won't look a thing like what you've been expecting?

Jesus isn't interested in granting your wishes. He's interested in His glory and giving you what He knows you really need - Himself. And there will be a whole lot more that comes with that, more than you could ever want or imagine. Psalm 37:4 promises us that if we delight ourselves in the Lord, He will give us the desires of our hearts - the very desires of our innermost being, the unfulfilled longings that keep us awake at night and weigh us down all day. He'll give them to you in rich fullness.

But first you have to let go of your painting and put down your brush.

The Crucible

2009-04-30T23:09:00.000-07:00

The crucible is for silver, and the furnace is for gold, and the Lord tests hearts.
-Proverbs 17:3

Back in the day they used to remove impurities from precious metals using a crucible. They would put the ore into the furnace and heat it until it literally melted into a molten form. When this happens, all the impurities in the metal separate out and float up to the top - they could then be skimmed off and removed. The metal was then re-heated, re-melted, and the process repeated. Over and over.

This is what life with Jesus is like. Many people think that Christianity is about solving all your personal problems, that Jesus exists to somehow make us happy, and that God is interested in playing a part in our story.

It's not.

Christianity is about a God who sacrificed everything to ransom you so that you could play a role in HIS story - and so that he could re-create you as you were originally meant to be. The experience of being refined by fire this way - being melted so that the impurities and imperfections rise to the top and are exposed - is excruciating. It's humbling. It's exposure in the most naked sense of the word.

And that is God's purpose in it.

God is not interested in my happiness, my comfort, or my security - though he does want to give those things through himself to us. But the purpose of his existence is not to provide those things to me and the purpose of my life is not to seek those things.

Because of Christ's sacrifice in our stead, we are covered in His righteousness. This means that when we surrender ourselves to Jesus, God literally sees us as he sees Jesus. 2 Corinthians 5:21 "For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God."

Reading that stirs such incredible emotions in me - the concept that the God of the universe looks at me, this filthy man, and sees nothing but purity. The image he sees does not conform to the reality that I see.

And that is exactly why we go into the crucible.

The crucible - the sanctification through suffering with Jesus - is necessary because what God sees must become reality. We must be transformed into greater likeness of Jesus because we belong to him and he is holy. When you suffer, God is literally molding you to conform to what he already sees.

Does that concept not make your mouth drop open in awe?

Temptation & Suffering

2009-04-20T23:18:00.000-07:00

Since this weekend I've been thinking about this kind of earth-shattering idea regarding temptation. You ready?

Experiencing intense temptation is not a sign that you have not made progress. It is not a sign that you are not a changed person.

Instead, it is an invitation to suffer and be sanctified through Jesus, by Jesus, so that you can become more like Jesus. Jesus suffered in temptation, and Jesus identifies with our temptation. So when pain and temptation come, run to him with it. Trust that he will fill the vacuum left behind when you stop running to your own functional comfort mechanisms.

This is an idea that has been difficult for me to understand because I tend to so stringently measure my "success" or "progress" by the level of temptation and suffering that I experience. Days when I am tempted frequently or suffer much become "bad" days and I automatically assume God is somehow not present in those kinds of days. Days when I am not tempted or do not suffer become the "good" days. This is such a false dichotomy.

God is with me in my pain as much as he is with me in my joy. The day that I am tempted or suffer much is not a "bad" day - it might certainly be a painful one, but it is a very good day in the sense that I have been invited to suffer alongside Jesus, to be sanctified and further renewed to become more like the man I was created to be. This is what it means to find joy in suffering.

Those moments of intense temptation and pain - those are the moments when Jesus can show up in the most unexpected and powerful ways. The moments when we are weakest are the moments in which his strength becomes perfect - and I am so, so grateful for that truth.

Redemption

2009-04-18T23:29:00.000-07:00

Today we had the Redemption Group Weekend Intensive. Friday night session, followed by an all-day Saturday session. I am tired and worn-out but still need to jot down a few thoughts.

-Redemption is for everyone: even our group leaders and co-leaders are participants in the group and in the process of sharing stories. Jesus is the propitiation for us all.

-Perception is everything: I heard multiple stories today that I would have sworn were the same as mine until the storyteller finished his tale. Many of us come from similar backgrounds but have perceived those backgrounds differently and therefore reacted very differently to similar upbringings or childhood circumstances.

-God will fill the vacuum: sometimes it is as simple as stopping what you're doing and trusting that God will fill the vacuum that is left when you do that.

-Jesus is mighty to save: Enough said. My God is already victorious over my sin and every part of my story.

-It's not about you: Life is not about your story; rather, your story is a brick in the mural of God's great design. You tell His story - he does not tell yours.

Who You Really Are

2009-04-13T19:58:00.001-07:00

There is so much going on in life right now that it's hard to keep up - and in a good way. Jesus is doing a lot in my life and in my family and it's difficult to even believe it. Change is everywhere, and it's change in the right direction. It's awkward and weird and painful, but it's the right direction.

Easter was a whole new experience this year. Mars Hill Downtown had record attendance and we baptized almost 30 people. Easter has always been a good day, but for some reason it wasn't until this year that it really moved me in a way that it hadn't before. Maybe it's because I have experienced so much of God's grace and redemption this year. He has wrought quite a bit of change in life over the past 14 months, most of which has not been easy. But in it all I can see His redemptive hand and mission, and even though it's painful most of the time I am totally on board with riding this ride. I know that the only thing that matches the incredible nature of the destination is the journey itself.

Most of all I am simply grateful that He continues to put up with me, continues to humble me, continues to impress upon me the fact that nothing I can do will make Him love me more. This past week, in the days leading up to Good Friday, that particular knowledge hit me especially hard and completely broke me. One day I was listening to a podcast about a specific issue God is working on in my heart and in my life and out of nowhere I just broke down and sobbed, suddenly and completely overcome with the impression of His grace and mercy toward me in the midst of my horrible brokenness - overcome with the sense of awe that flows from being loved so completely and so unconditionally. More and more I'm just overwhelmed by the idea that God would turn His face toward me and rescue me from myself - I still don't understand why. What did I have to offer? The answer of "nothing" still just doesn't compute to me even though my heart knows it's true.

But I know that's the core of what He's working on right now - getting me to fully understand who I am in His eyes, wiping away all of the filth and falsehood that has clouded that understanding for so many years. My value stems not from who I myself am or what I have to offer, but because of what Jesus has clothed me in through His own sacrifice. How different I would be if I truly understood how precious I am to Him and lived out of that security - that's where I want to be! So much of what I am now sorting through stems from that false image of myself. But God is faithful to finish everything He starts and I just can't wait to take another step. It's like every day you discover who you really are all over again.

I grew up not knowing whether I was precious to someone, with the omnipresent fear that if i simply did something wrong or displeased him, my father would stop loving me. The most horrifying words I ever heard were, "I'm very disappointed in you." And those words and that fear dug in deep, opening up fissures that refused to close again.

And now Jesus stands at those fissures and counters all the lies and false perceptions with His eternal truth: I delight in you. You are precious to me - I sacrificed everything to get you back. You bear My image. Now come to Me and let Me show you who you really are.

The Story

2009-04-08T20:33:00.000-07:00

I will never fully understand the depth of Jesus' grace toward me. I still do not understand why he hung there on that cross for me. What on earth did he have to gain?

What I do understand is the feeling of gratitude and humility that comes with scraping the surface of that understanding of grace - the incredible sense of naked, shameless glory that flows from that wooden cross and covers everything I've ever done, thought, imagined or said. I understand what it feels like to be clean. And to stand in the presence of a holiness that I cannot even fully comprehend. There is freedom there, in that sense of your own smallness, your filth, your inability to measure up.

Someday, I hope that I get to have the opportunity to share my story. My real Gospel story. It's not one that many people know, not even in my own family. But I hope that someday I get the chance and the strength to stand up and tell everyone what Jesus has done - without shame and guilt, without fear. I hope that someday I get the chance to tell someone in that situation that there is hope, that there is a way out, that there is another life. That there are choices. That it will not be easy - it will be excruciating - but that it is worth it. That I get to end my story by pointing at Him and say, "This man - this man is the reason for all that I am. This man is the answer and redemption you are so desperately begging for." Some say we are in denial, and I would say that is true. The life we are called to live is one of daily denial - denial of that which comes most naturally in favor of obedience. I want to be a slave to Jesus Christ - because as his slave I will never be more free.

There was once a time when I was afraid to tell my story to anyone. Now I am afraid to tell my story to everyone. What would it look like to live that way?

I want to be used to tell His story, even if it's only in some small way. I want to see someone else set free from the prison I once lived in. Please - if only once, if only for some short moment before I die - let me see the fruit of my life's testament to You. And let that testament be glorifying of the One who is the Deliverer, the Redeemer, the Author and Perfecter, and the Way.

What I hope is the final stretch of this road is beginning. Old wounds will be reopened. We lie to ourselves when we say that time heals all wounds; it doesn't. It only presses a "pause" button. And that is why, in some ways, I never made it past first grade. This road will require going back as far as I can, to the time and place where everything started.

It is a poetic irony that, so often, we must go back to the beginning in order to reach the end.

Despair.com

2009-04-07T20:25:00.001-07:00

OK, so I promised not to complain, but I don't think this counts - because this website was making me laugh so hard at work people were wondering what was wrong with me.

My absolute favorites are this one
And this one
And of course, this one

I am so buying the desktop calendar. Not even kidding.

Resolved:

2009-04-01T18:41:00.001-07:00

Complain less. Starting now.

The Compass Points

2009-03-25T23:46:00.000-07:00

There are times when you know that God is doing something very big in your life but you can't quite see the whole picture. Times when you don't quite know what the end destination is going to look like, but when you simply know you need to charge forward as quickly as you can. This is one of those times.

I think that things are going to change very radically in the next year. And it's not all going to be change that's easy to accept or easy to walk through. But it will be good. Even in the pain and discomfort, God is good and gracious. That much I know.

Let's Go.

2009-03-22T18:48:00.000-07:00

I met with one of my pastors today and had a good talk about the current state of things. It was tremendously encouraging to talk with someone who has walked this road before me, who knew exactly what questions to ask, who is now standing on the other side of the ravine, and who assures me that this ravine is, indeed, passable.

The road ahead is going to be long, difficult, uncomfortable, and painful. It's a road I've walked for years, and one that seems to extend itself with every step. But I can see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, and I have renewed energy determination to start sprinting.

It might sound odd, but I am actually looking forward to the pain, discomfort, and weakness - because they are signs of sanctification; I will be reminded that in my weakness His strength is made perfect. My joy is in my suffering.

Let the rain fall.
Let the thunder roll.
Let the lightning strike.
Let the foundations of my feeble world be shaken and shattered.

And let a new creation spring up.

I am grateful beyond words for the community that has been placed around me here at Mars Hill.

Recycle

2009-03-21T16:02:00.000-07:00

Today I got chastised at the blood bank for tossing the slip of paper they give you at the end into a wastebasket rather than the recycling bin, which I couldn't even see from where I was. The lady was visibly upset. She insisted on taking my can of juice from me at the end to make sure it ended up in the recycling bin and not the garbage.

Only in Seattle.

War

2009-03-19T08:57:00.000-07:00

"Of course a war is entertaining. The immediate fear and suffering of the humans is a legitimate and pleasing refreshment for our myriads of toiling workers. But what permanent good does it do us unless we make use of it for bringing souls to Our Father Below? When I see the temporal suffering of humans who finally escape us, I feel as if I had been allowed to taste the first course of a rich banquet and then denied all the rest. It is worse than not to have tasted it at all. The Enemy, true to His barbarous methods of warfare, allows us to see the short misery of His favourites only to tantalize and torment us — to mock the incessant hunger, which, during this present phase of great conflict, His blockade is admittedly imposing."

-Screwtape to Wormwood, C.S. Lewis' The Screwtape Letters

Restoration

2009-03-16T20:55:00.000-07:00

"Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world. And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, and strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen."
1 Peter 5:8-11

Never has this passage stood out to me as it does now.

I do not fully understand what is happening. I understand only that much has changed over the course of the past few weeks, and that my enemy is now attacking with a renewed force that I have not seen or felt in years. It hit Saturday morning like a freight train finally emerging from a tunnel after weeks of docile hiding. The familiar depression, the weight. Surprised as I was, I was ready. Resolute. Determination swelled.

This time will be different.

You won't have me this time. Not this time. Never, ever again. This is done.

Not because of my strength. I was foolish enough to pit myself against you toe-to-toe far too many times. No, it is not because of my strength that you have lost - it is because of my weakness. In my weakness, my king's strength is perfect. Perfect.

You are not my king.

And I am not who I once was.

I belong to Him.

You have beaten me down - He will restore me. You have lied to me about who I am - He will confirm me. You have assaulted me - He will strengthen me. You have debased and humiliated me - He will establish me.

I am His.

With a single word He spoke me into existence. As my still-forming heart poisoned itself and beat for the first time, He knit me together. And when I was born my broken and depraved spirit still bore the very image of the One who had crushed your head.

You paid a visit unexpectedly at work today. I could barely breathe. Couldn't even look up. It must have made you giddy to watch my spirit writhe in pain.

But then I heard Him. Time slowed as His whisper broke through the smoke and fire. His Word was there.

And I faced you, trembling, and echoed His words. I could feel you hesitate. I said His name.

Jesus.

I will not be that wounded little boy, that broken man forever. He is restoring me.

I will face you with tears flowing, with my spirit still writhing, soaked in His blood. The blood of Jesus.

Jesus.

Blood flows from His crown of thorns, cleansing my thoughts. Blood from His hands, cleansing that which I have touched. Blood from His feet, cleansing where I have walked. Blood from His back, cleansing the years I turned my back upon Him. Blood from His side, cleansing even that which is inside of me, that which I have wished for years that I could tear out and destroy. Even that which you have made every effort to cultivate.

And I stand facing you and all the horrors of Hell

redeemed

For my Jesus is already victorious.

Exhaustion

2009-03-12T23:37:00.001-07:00

O LORD, rebuke me not in your anger,
nor discipline me in your wrath.
Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am languishing;
heal me, O LORD, for my bones are troubled.
My soul also is greatly troubled.
But you, O LORD - how long?
Turn, O LORD, deliver my life;
save me for the sake of your steadfast love.
For in death there is no remembrance of you;
in Sheol who will give you praise?

I am weary with my moaning;
every night I flood my bed with tears;
I drench my couch with my weeping.
My eye wastes away because of grief;
it grows weak because of all my foes.

------

O LORD my God, if I have done this,
if there is wrong in my hands,
if I have repaid my friend with evil
or plundered my enemy without cause,
let the enemy pursue my soul and overtake it,
and let him trample my life to the ground
and lay my glory in the dust.

Where am I?

Timeline

2009-03-03T22:31:00.001-08:00

If you could see a timeline of your life - a linear representation of your journey: your thoughts, emotions, fears, hopes, spiritual growth - what would you see?

I've been writing in my journal tonight and decided to flip back a few months and read some old entries, wondering what, if anything, I had written earlier on the subject I am thinking, praying, and writing about tonight. Indeed I had - and I'd forgotten. And what I read literally made my jaw drop. I am not kidding.

Just a few months back I had written heartfelt and desperate pleas about the very subject I was considering tonight - except I was asking for things that I'm asking for again in a new way tonight. My journal entries over the past few months, when read in chronological succession and all at once to form a mosaic, are eerily self-fulfilling. That is to say - I can literally see and READ God preparing my heart over the past few months, causing me to ask the right questions of myself and of Him. I can see Him pushing the mental and spiritual jigsaw puzzle into place. I can see Him pushing people into and out of my life that were necessary to get to this point, here, tonight. I suddenly see the hand of God in my life in an unbelievable way over the past few months, and in one area in particular. The linearity is incredible and the signs difficult to ignore. He's been working overtime on this, and I think I may know why.

And all this time I couldn't see it. All this time I was going about my walk with Him and totally blind to what He was really working on - I thought I was in one place and headed for a particular destination, yet all the while He was tearing up the pavement from under me and re-laying the road to His own destination in His good pleasure. His sovereignty is humbling and His grace and patience are dumbfounding.

If His road is going where I think He may be paving it, everything is about to change.

"The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps."
-Proverbs 16:9

Berlin

2009-03-03T21:12:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, when I'm tired and there doesn't seem to be much rest to be had; when work gets stressful (ha); when I wonder about the future - I think of Berlin. Someday I'd like to go back for a little while.

On that subject, here's a cool song from 1981 about Berlin.

Jesus Really IS Just that Good.

2009-03-01T01:28:00.000-08:00

Just when I think He can't possibly take it any higher, He one-ups it and shows me a whole new side of Himself. I am bowled over with thankfulness and amazement at you tonight, Lord. Jesus, thank you for your providence, your mercy, and your hand in all things. You truly are the Prince of Peace and the Author and Perfector.

Your transformative grace goes beyond my understanding - but I am loving the ride.

The Proverbs 31 Woman

2009-02-23T20:42:00.001-08:00

I am waiting for the Proverbs 31 woman.

She is an "excellent wife." She is "far more precious than jewels." She "plants a vineyard with the fruit of her hands." She is clothed with strength and dignity. She laughs. She opens her mouth with wisdom. She fears God.

I am waiting for the woman whose heart I can trust in.

I have been waiting for what feels like forever. And I'm convinced that it won't be much longer.

Lately I have been praying specifically for this, which is something that I have never done. I've always prayed for the development of the heart that will necessary to be her husband. I've prayed for the ability to recognize her. I've prayed for strength and perseverance and wisdom and will and purity and courage and redemption and steadfastness.

Now, I eagerly and confidently pray for her coming - and for my swift and decisive pursuit of her when she is revealed.

I want my weekend back.

2008-09-01T17:50:00.000-07:00

There has got to be some law of physics that describes why three-day weekends always seem to go faster than regular ones. Here I am sitting in my living room after a full day of vegging and relaxation, and yet I'm still not ready for the week to start tomorrow. The one consolation is that at least we're starting one day ahead of the game.

Also, why is it that there's never enough time to veg on the 3-day weekends, but somehow vegging on the regular weekends is totally doable? Today I slept in, watched the news, washed and waxed my car, finished up the latest discs of 24 that I got from Netflix, and now here it is already 6pm, and I have a tons more time I want to waste and not even time to waste it all. I demand to have an extension of the weekend.

Hmmm....maybe I'm falling ill? Cough cough?

Just In Case Anyone Still Reads This -

2008-08-24T19:37:00.000-07:00

- yes, I am alive.

No, I have not had the urge to blog a lot. Until now, I guess. I felt that it was sort of time for an "hey, I've been out of school for about seven months now and here's how it's going" entry. I'm sure all four of you that actually have this page bookmarked are wondering how things are out here in the Real World.

The short answer is that they're great. Really great. Better than they ever were in school, and that's the truth. People say college is the best time of your life, but honestly I feel like I'm finally starting to peak now that I'm out of that incubator. I wouldn't trade my current job (even with all its stresses), all my bills (even when they're high), or my current social circle to go back to college. Not in a million years. I am truly happier now than I have ever been in my entire life thus far, which, although it probably isn't saying much considering that's not a whole lot of years to look back on, still says much. And not to say that college wasn't fantastic - but you move on to other things eventually, and I'm enjoying being in that place right now.

Work is going superbly well, especially this past week, as I finally, finally, FINALLY got approval for one of the big huge inventory countermeasures that I have been battling for for almost six months. I will most likely be able to hit my inventory goal for the year, with a little more elbow grease. As we head into September there's going to be a lot going on, but since it's been slow enough recently for me to be able to catch up on things I feel refreshed enough to take whatever it throws at me.

Socially, things are also going well - I'm feeling healthier and better than I ever have thanks to gym visits 5 days a week.

My lease is up at my current apartment in December, which means it's almost time to start apartment hunting again. That's going to be a real challenge considering the conflicting priorities of finding a less expensive place to save some green while still having the amazing downtown life that I have right now. Yesterday I explored a few of the more residential neighborhoods near downtown and I was completely how shocked at how weird it felt - I have grown accustomed to being in the middle of downtown. What once felt like an overbearing, bustling city that didn't offer any rest is now the only place that I feel at ease - the quiet of the suburbs is unnerving.

I'm optimistic about the future and the rest of the year - life isn't perfect, but then, it never is. I think the best thing about leaving college and the isolated fantasy world that exists on campus was coming to that very realization and becoming comfortable with it for the first time in my life. Despite the imperfections, it all goes on - onward and upward!

Oh, yeah, that's right...I have a blog.

2008-07-05T18:40:00.000-07:00

I had kinda forgotten in the past 3 months. Ha!

4th of July was pretty low-key, just went to the Beerfest with some friends from work and then headed up to crash a rooftop party and watch the fireworks over Elliot Bay. Good times.

Saturday has been fairly unproductive. I took my car in for its 10,000 mile checkup and beyond that I haven't accomplished much. The weather can't seem to make up its mind so I'm kind of thinking it might be a good time to get some cleaning up done around the apartment; the place looks like a bomb went off. It's just one of those days when there's a whole lot you probably SHOULD be doing, both work and non-work related, but you just can't seem to muster up the jam to do it all. And I can't believe it's already Saturday; before we know it it will be Sunday - where did the 3-day weekend go??

Life in general still going OK, work is OK and on the upswing, and beyond that, there just ain't a whole lot new to report.

Costco run later today!

Back for a Visit...

2008-04-16T20:57:00.000-07:00

This past week has been a good week because I did something very exciting - I booked my big vacation for this year! I am heading back to Germany for 13 days in May/June and can hardly wait; 13 days of much-needed time not only away from work but out of the country as well.

Part of the reason for the trip back to Germany is purely nostalgic - I need to get my "fix" and see my old stomping grounds again. I need to walk the streets of Tübingen again, eat a Döner at the marketplace again, drink beer in the beer gardens again, speak German for two straight weeks again, see old friends again, ride the train through the countryside again. I think of Germany almost every day and I miss it more than I can describe. I honestly do regret not exploring other avenues of getting myself back there before I came back to Seattle, even though at the time I didn't want to go back so badly.

The other reason for the trip is related to the first but on a deeper level: to reconnect with my second home. It seems silly to many people in my life (including myself, admittedly) that I refer to Germany as my "second home" but in many ways it is and will always be as close to my definition of home as my home country is. It has been almost two years since I left Germany in August of 2006, and I want to begin exploring the possibility of returning indefinitely.

I won't be able to even realistically consider acting on that prospect for at least another 9 months - and even then it would be somewhat premature - but nonetheless I think it's a good idea to at least let it start simmering in the back of my mind, to keep Germany on the radar. My greatest fear in coming back to Seattle after graduation and starting a job here was that I would somehow "forget" Germany or lose touch with it - that I would wake up one morning and find myself with a slew of obligations preventing me from taking off for the horizon again. And so this trip is, in that sense, a metaphorical climb to the top of the forest canopy to verify that the horizon is, indeed, still there.

In any case, if you are over in Germany right now, I want to come and visit you and/or have you join me on my trip! Facebook me!

You-Know-What is here.....

2008-03-22T10:44:00.000-07:00

I always had a feeling that post-college life would rob me of the desire to blog, and my suspicions have proved correct. When you no longer have hours and hours and hours of spare time (and trust me, you do in college, no matter how busy you think you are), it seems downright insane to spend those precious free hours in front of a machine that I am in front of for at least 10 hours each day anyway. I have, on average, 180 minutes after work each day before I have to be asleep again so that I'm not drooling all over my keyboard at 7am the next morning (to give you all an idea what life at work is like, consider this: I bought a second coffee maker. For my desk.)

Add to that the fact that we're currently in the midst of quarter-end - a word uttered at workplaces either with the utmost of contempt or as quietly as possible. If business were Harry Potter and quarter end were Voldemort (a fitting comparison, really, considering the shenanigans of upper management and the horror of fiscal reporting) we would all scurry around feverishly every three months whispering frantic warnings to each other of the coming terror of You-Know-What.

Blogging, therefore, will need to make a change. I'm thinking politics. Or something. In any case, my life is now officially Way Too Boring to bother publishing on the internet or anywhere else.

So let me tell you about my evening.

2008-02-26T20:38:00.000-08:00

I leave work at 6:15, exhausted and drained. I remember halfway home that I need to stop at the grocery store because I have almost no food in the apartment and can't even make a lunch for the next day unless I go.

So I begrudgingly start making my way through Safeway with a square plastic basket, quickly and efficiently making my way through the store, aisle by aisle, grabbing only the necessities and a few extras at a good price. Patting myself on the back for my price-savvy, I decide to splurge for the night and buy a frozen Digiorno pizza. I'm tired and don't feel like actually cooking dinner.

I get home and clean up the apartment while I the pizza cooks. I even hang the big picture above the couch I've been procrastinating dealing with.

Pizza timer goes off. I run over to the oven, mouth already watering, and grab the pizza out of the oven. Here's where it gets interesting.

Since Digiorno cooks without a pizza tray, you put it right on the rack. I grab this rack directly out of the oven as always. I've got a cookie tray waiting on the stove to take the hot pizza for cutting.

I decide that since the tray has a lip on one end (the end furthest from me) I might as well try something different and try sliding it off the end closest to me, which doesn't have a lip and I reason will therefore be easier.

I'm wrong.

The pizza slides off the tray. Too far. In slow motion it flips and falls - face down - on the open oven door.

Expletives fly.

After cleaning up the mess (as best one can clean melted cheese, pepperoni, and peppers off of a hot oven door) I finally decide that I'm craving pizza enough to drive back to the store and buy a second Digiorno. It's been that bad of a Tuesday.

I get stuck behind every slow person in the universe on the way over. Finally getting to the store, I get strange looks from Queen Anne preppies who think it's a cardinal sin to show up at Safeway in sweats and a sweatshirt.

I get in the express 15-items-or-less line, rejoicing that there's only one man in front of me.

Unfortunately, not only has this man bought the full 15-item limit, he is, to my utter and abject horror, the only person left in the universe who actually writes checks at the grocery store. I am dead serious. The man pulls out his checkbook and, in the slowest, most excruciating speed I've EVER seen in my life, writes a check for $14.07.

I get back home and put the pizza in the oven, sitting down on the couch with my now-reclaimed glass of Pinot Noir, resolving to blog immediately.

At which point I realize I have put the pizza in the oven without a cookie tray. Again.

Greta's so cute when she's happy.

2008-02-25T20:49:00.000-08:00

Today I gave Greta a special treat.

(For those of you wondering, Greta is my Volkswagen. Yes. I named my car. And yes. I named her Greta. Long story short, it had to be a German name and it had to rhyme with Jetta, so that didn't leave a lot of options. Actually her full name is "Lorelei Greta Jetta" because she was like the folklore siren perched on the Lorelei rock of the Rhein, but that's another story).

So today after work I noticed Greta was about to be empty (actually, Greta kind of yelled at me, "I'M ABOUT TO BE EMPTY, YOU IDIOT! DO YOU SEE THE LITTLE LIGHT THERE THAT LOOKS LIKE A GAS PUMP?!? THAT MEANS FEED ME!"

So I pull into the gas station, and Greta's so empty I figure, "Why not give her a new kind of gasoline? I've always given her regular, which is what her fuel door says to give her. Let's treat her and give her PLUS. "

So I fill her up with plus. I manage to squeeze 14.1 gallons into the tank (for those of you not familiar with the specs on a VW Jetta, the tank only holds 14.3 gallons). Score!

And since she's gotten her new Plus fuel, Greta's running even better. Quieter starts. Smoother acceleration. Better performance. She's like Super Greta.

I love Super Greta.

Workaholic

2008-02-14T18:50:00.000-08:00

So for those of you wondering how the job is going these days, let me just say: there's a reason why you haven't heard anything from me on this blog in close to a month.

'Nuff said.

Thoughts on the End of the Chapter

2007-12-11T19:36:00.000-08:00

There is a definite sense tonight, as I pack my bags and prepare for the arrival of both family members and the insanity that will be graduation ceremonies, that something is very different. That tonight is different, and that the future is different too.

I keep thinking about what it's going to feel like to drive out of Phoenix. Up until this point I didn't really feel like I was done - I felt like I was about to go home for Christmas break. But I think driving out of the city with all my stuff in the car is going to drive the point home that this time I'm not actually coming back.

Half of me wants to savor this time, to soak in it, to write about it, to listen to music that will deepen it and enrich it and make me remember it. And the other half of me just wants to get it over with, skip over it as quickly as possible, like ripping off a band-aid.

As always when it comes to the end of life chapters, there is never quite enough time for it all. There just hasn't been enough time to say last goodbyes to everyone and everything. One thing I want to be sure that I do before I leave is climb up A Mountain one last time and just look out over Tempe and Phoenix. If I can do that, I'll leave satisfied and ready for the next chapter.

The End

2007-12-07T11:24:00.000-08:00

I have just finished my last undergraduate final exam. Which means that once I finish this one last assignment for another class, my undergraduate career is, for all practical purposes, over.

The exam went well. However, my dear calculator chose to run out of battery juice exactly as I finished checking my answers. It was like a divine sign, as though my little electronic sidekick - with whom I have been through so much, suffered long, and endured many exams and assignments - decided it was both a poignant and fitting tribute to choose this exact moment to depart for the next world. Wiping away a tear (not really) and with a heavy heart, I slowly replaced his plastic cover and placed him lovingly inside the outer pocket of my backpack.

Now I sit, one last time, in our wonderful business school Starbucks - a place where I have also spent much time and that I will miss dearly in the coming years.

It doesn't feel like my last day in classes or taking tests on campus, although there is a definite quality about this day that is different - one that I can't quite put my finger on but that I know is there. But mostly it just feels like a really slow and relaxed Friday on campus. I'm sure that as the time to leave for Seattle draws closer it will become more obvious that real changes are happening.

You're such a poser.

2007-12-06T08:55:00.000-08:00

I'm in the computer lab on campus right now, waiting for the rest of my study group to get here. Our lab recently upgraded us all from the old, swivel-head iMacs to the brand-spanking-new and über-sexy new aluminum iMacs, which, of course, also run Windows. Although only about 1/4 of the lab is dedicated to these iMacs, every time I come in here there are always 3-4 tools using them to run Windows. I always want to punch those tools in the face and say, "Get out of our section, you poser. This is MAC territory."

It's truly not fair. You know why? Because once you get used to using a Mac - once you've gotten used to that sense of childlike wonder being restored to your life every time you start up your computer - you can't go back to Windows and retain your sanity. So essentially, it is useless to me that 3/4 of the computers in here are Windows, because I can't use them, because if I do I might have to kill someone or myself. And that just wouldn't be good.

So it's not fair that the Windows Posers get to come over here and poach on our Macs. Evil, evil windows posers.

It's officially getting weird.

2007-12-04T14:54:00.000-08:00

Today I bought my cap and gown. It's beginning to sink in that something is happening, but I still don't think it's going to hit me full force until I'm out on the stage and in full regalia with all my friends. I'm starting to feel a little sad, not really because I'm going to miss college so much as sadness for the fact that this stage of life is over. It's always a little sad when you are forced to change in some irreversible way, even if you're looking forward to it.

Thoughts on Opportunity

2007-11-28T19:16:00.000-08:00

"Life's ups and downs provide windows of opportunity to determine your values and goals - think of using all obstacles as stepping stones to build the life you want."
-Marsha Sinetar

"When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully open the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us."
-Alexander Graham Bell

Thanksgiving

2007-11-22T19:11:00.000-08:00

It was a beautiful Thanksgiving dinner. A colorful salad, wondrous sweet potatoes, fluffy mashed potatoes, succulent stuffing, and the most moist, amazing turkey ever (this year was our first year having an organic, free-range turkey, and in Thanksgiving tradition we referred to him during the preparation process as "Tom the Turkey." Owing to his uniqueness in historical context, he quickly became "Tom the Organic Turkey," and shortly thereafter - my stepfather being unable to resist the temptation of a wonderful near-homonym - was christened "Tom the Orgasmic Turkey.").

And so, with Tom the Orgasmic Turkey fresh out of the oven and sliced into little bits, we all sat down at the gorgeously decorated table - complete with crystal wine glasses, our best china, and even tea lights in front of everyone's plates - to begin the gorging process.

About five minutes into dinner my aunt accidentally spills her glass of red wine across the table and into her brother's lap. Panic ensues and everyone (except me, that is - I have lived with a large family long enough to know when there are too many cooks in the kitchen) springs into action. My mother throws down her napkin and runs upstairs to get a towel, which drops from the landing a few seconds later onto the foyer floor below. My aunt jumps up and attacks the tablecloth with her own napkin. My uncle stands and begins wiping the wine from his (thankfully) black pants. My stepfather lunges at the floor with a bottle of Resolve and the towel previously mentioned. And so, having no duty to fill and with a mouth full of mashed potatoes and gravy, I calmly reach for the salt and pepper shakers resting in front of my mother's plate.

Which is when I notice that her napkin is on fire.

"OMIGOD FIRE!!"

In a moment of weakness for which I shall never forgive myself, I forget every ounce of fire safety training in all those endless elementary school assemblies with Spot the Fire Dog. I instinctively grab the edge of the napkin and fling it skyward and away from the candle flame, transforming it into a flying silk fireball in my left hand. More panic ensues.

Suffice it to say that the house did not burn down and we survived the experience of feasting on Tom the Orgasmic Turkey. Ah, Thanksgiving.

SouthSuck Airlines

2007-11-20T16:38:00.000-08:00

So I walk into the airport this afternoon earlier than originally planned for my 7:30 flight to Seattle, all excited to get situated, put my iPod earbuds in, and just chill for 2.5 hours on the plane home. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and taking it out I find a text message from a friend:

Looks like your flight could be delayed. Check southwest.com.

I groan and head over to the Departures monitor. There's my flight, but it looks like we're scheduled to arrive EARLIER than originally planned, by almost a full hour! Woo hoo! I skip over to the checkin and get my bag checked. Then up the escalator, quick phone call home to let the family know I'll be early, and then through security.

Finally I plop down at Starbucks in the terminal, plug in my laptop, and start surfing our free airport WiFi here at SkyHarbor. Checking email, blogs, news, the whole bit. Eventually I decide, just for kicks and giggles, to check my flight status again. Which is when I discovered the oh-so-not-funny truth of things.

I had read the monitor wrong. The time posted wasn't our arrival time. It was our DEPARTURE time. My flight is delayed. At this point it's barely 4:30. Which means I'm going to be stuck in the airport for another four and a half hours.

Surly sip of coffee. Surly phone call home to inform them I'll be in closer to midnight. Surly surfing of web. Surly working on homework stuff.

All I can say is that when I get on that plane and settle into a seat, the captain had better get on the intercom and inform us that he's going to step on it and fly like a bat outta hell into Seattle, getting us in earlier than we're currently scheduled - or so help me, I just might write another surly blog post about it.

That'll show 'em.

TV will rot your brain, young man. Now turn that off.

2007-11-06T19:34:00.000-08:00

Those of you who know me know that I don't watch a whole lot of TV. As a child growing up, television was one of those semi-illicit substances in our household that, for apparent grave health and safety reasons foreign to my six-year-old mind, had to be carefully rationed - much like second helpings of dinner, sugar, and grave-flavored Dimetap. The content of my siblings' and my programming was also, of course, carefully regulated - it was not until sometime in the ninth grade that I, increasingly exposed to the world outside the carefully constructed home nest, became curiously aware that watching an R-rated film would not, in fact, result in my immediate teleportation to Hell.

And so, having had so little exposure to the stuff growing up, it's not surprising that I was largely spared the addiction to all things televised that seemed to afflict so much of the general population.

But then I finished my thesis.

I'm certain that the conniving 60" widescreen HDTV owned by my roommate, proudly occupying a prominent spot in our living room, waited for this precise moment to close in for the kill (prompted, no doubt, by generations of past televisions that had failed to plant an addiction in my fragile little mind). I'm not even sure how the thing turned on in the first place, since the apartment was empty and no one was home (perhaps the television is self-aware?). In any case, (and curiously, considering my lack of TV addiction), I've always been one easily amused by flashing colors and bright, shiny things, and so, in a moment of curiosity as I passed through the living room Sunday afternoon, I sat down on the couch - just for a moment.

Four hours later I was still there - in fact, I was no longer alone, having brought my laptop in and carefully balanced it upon the left couch arm (lest I miss an instant message or email). I sagged in my seat, hindquarters not even technically resting on the couch anymore, the remote resting limply in my right hand.

Those of you who know me well know that I almost never watch television. And when I do, it's rarely for more than an hour. Yet for some reason, since Friday afternoon I have been perfectly content to remain stationary on the couch in front of the boob tube for over six hours at a time, getting up only to use the loo or to fetch sustenance.

This frightens me.

However, I can see why so many people do watch so much TV. There really is an incredible world of insanity out there, all brought conveniently to my living room via satellite and at the literal touch of a button. Among my virtual exploits in the past five days:

1. A seventeen-year-old Southern California girl dent her mother's Audi less than 24 hours after receiving her driver's license, then taken out the next day by her father to pick out her $32,000 BMW 325i (a "good first car"), squealing, "Daddy's going to let me put rims on it and tint the windows! Isn't it cute??!?

2. A man learning how to properly groom a dog, including - and I am not joking - literally squeezing poop out of its butt during the bathing process.

3. Several insanely wealthy Beverly Hills residents getting equally insane (and graphic) plastic surgery operations. Also, the rather touching reconstruction of one 18-year-old Mexican boy's horrific cleft palate and subsequent speech classes.

4. An hour-long special on the History channel musing whether Adolf Hitler might, just might, have escaped Berlin in 1945 and been living in Argentina to this day - then concluded in the last 5 minutes with the comparatively far less exciting reality that, nope, he really did just shoot himself. Also, the confirmation that the Soviet Union really did have Hitler's body all this time, and buried and exhumed it no less than eight times in the decades after the war. Sometime in the 1970s the body was dug up by a KGB agent, cremated (again, ironically), and then dumped into an East German river, where the ashes made their way to the ocean. Russia still has Hitler's teeth and fragments of his skull.

Yes, the past few days have certainly reminded me why I don't watch a lot of television. I suppose that I really should turn the thing off and get back to work - I know I must have some assignment due this week.

I'll do it right after this show.

Dan in Real Life

2007-11-04T17:12:00.001-08:00

Saw this movie last night with a couple of friends, and I can only recommend it. I am definitely going to be buying this when it comes out on DVD.

Why? Dan in Real Life is one of those great comedies that is hilarious while at the same time being completely serious and tackling some great character issues. It's the story of - you guessed it - Dan, who is a widower struggling to raise three daughters and caught in the middle of a big family that seems to have nothing but unwelcome suggestions for him. The whole extended family goes on a vacation to the family cabin in Rhode Island, where Dan runs into Marie at a bookstore, a beautiful woman who it's clear from the get-go is the one - and who, to Dan's utter horror when he later returns to the cabin, is actually dating his brother. Add three teenage daughters and a huge, overly-intrusive family. Hilarity ensues.

It sounds like the recipe for a romantic comedy, doesn't it? And some people might characterize it that way - but I think the film shows us Dan's pain as a father and widower too clearly to fit into the stereotypical romantic comedy genre. Steve Carrell proves that he can be as serious as he is hilarious, and he does a fantastic job of communicating Dan's very real and all-consuming struggle to be a father to his daughters as well as fill the void left by his wife's death through the film's awkward situations. The film's romantic and it's a comedy, but I think it draws a distinction between the two really well and stays away from the kitschy, eye-rolling stuff.

It's definitely worth the 7 bucks at the movie theatre, so if you're looking for something to do this weekend, go check it out.

The Inevitable Crash

2007-11-03T15:04:00.001-07:00

Seattle Winter 2006
Originally uploaded by liquidnight

And so, having finished my thesis, I collapsed into bed early last night and slept for 11 hours. I have not slept 11 hours in a long, long, time. I finally got up late around 10, got dressed, and sauntered over to my favorite cafe, where I proceeded to drink a cup of coffee and nearly fall asleep again on one of their enormous, comfy couches.

Which is where I ran across this photo on Flickr. I love this photo. It makes me miss Seattle. For those of you who have not experienced a Seattle Christmas, I'm sorry to inform you, but your life has actually not been happening all these years. You've been in a sad, sad state of non-living and only after you experience the month of December in downtown Seattle can you start to live.

Winter in Seattle is amazing. We don't get a lot of snow, but we get lots of rain to make up for it, and strangely the rain sort of adds the same mood to a Christmas evening for a Seattlelite that snow would for most other people. We're kind of odd that way.

With Thanksgiving barely a few weeks away, soon it will be time to start playing Christmas music! Can't wait.

'Tis Defended

2007-11-03T10:43:00.000-07:00

And I passed.

Ask not for whom the bell tolls...

2007-11-01T18:57:00.000-07:00

Well everyone, tomorrow is the big day: the thesis defense. All the months of blood, sweat, and tears (not so much the tears) are about to come to fruition. Tomorrow I will present the thesis to the committee for final review, and discuss their questions and comments. Once that's over it will be time for final revisions based on their input and then (drum roll) the final manuscript will be submitted and forever immortalized in the Barrett archives.

Well, actually I should be more specific - once the defense is over it will be time to head over to Mill Avenue with friends and have several 'adult beverages' in euphoric celebration. Then it will be time for final revisions.

My second reader has brought up some questions and comments that I find a bit difficult to tackle - I've been chewing on them for a couple of days and will definitely need to address some of them in order to make the thesis stronger. He has actually also suggested that I look into getting the case studies I did published, because there isn't much literature on those two subjects out there at the moment.

Tonight I am putting some finishing touches on the presentation and mentally preparing myself. I'm trying to tell myself that it's not going to be a huge deal, that if my committee wasn't going to approve the thesis they would have given me an indication already. I'm still pretty nervous though. I just hope it's over fast!

Album of the Week

2007-10-28T20:11:00.000-07:00

THE PERISHERS - VICTORIOUS

Holy friggin crap. Just go out and buy this album, okay? Just do it. Don't wait. It's worth so much more than the $10 you'll pay for it. The Perishers won their place in my favorites list with their melancholy, piano-driven songs from the first album of theirs that I was familiar with, Let There Be Morning. They've become one of my favorite bands, bar none. This album stays true to their sound but gives a bit of a new twist - more guitar, far less melancholy, but still undeniably them. It works. It works really well. Where the last album was the type of thing you'd put on when you were feeling a bit tired, a bit worn out, maybe even a bit hopeless, this album is one you'll put on when you've got a bright optimism for the future (is that a sunrise on the album cover?); it's the sort of thing you'd listen to on an early morning as you walk out the door and into a relaxing Saturday where the entire day is yours. No responsibilities. No worries. Just music and a really good feeling. It's incredible and I can't stop listening to it.

Olympian

2007-10-28T00:51:00.001-07:00

GEICO

2007-10-25T18:16:00.000-07:00

It is Finished.

2007-10-22T20:26:00.000-07:00

An announcement:

As of 30 seconds ago, I completed the defense draft of my Bachelors thesis. There are a few tweaks left to be done here and there, but on the whole, this thesis is ready for defense.

It is 67 pages long.

Now, pardon me while I collapse in exhaustion.

The Final Push

2007-10-21T21:53:00.000-07:00

And so here I sit, 10pm on Sunday night, finishing up what should (hopefully) be the defense version of my bachelors thesis. Need to add one more section of meat and potatoes, then the introduction and conclusion. It's coming together nicely, and it looks like by the time I am finished it will be well over 60 pages. Hope those of you who requested to read it when it was finished are looking forward to some heavy reading! ;-)

Tomorrow: handing in the copy to my director for review and possibly the rest of the committee. Then frantic studying for my test on Tuesday, writing a paper that should have been written this weekend, and then giving blood. Even though I've done it once before and it really wasn't bad, the thought of lying there on that table with a needle in my arm is making my skin crawl right now.

Okay, more coffee, here goes! Wish me luck - it's definitely going to be a near all-nighter tonight.

[Drink of the Day: Tully's house blend]
[Currently Listening to: Imogen Heap]

Quotes of the Day

2007-10-19T14:31:00.000-07:00

"I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude."
-Henry David Thoreau

"It is far better to be alone than to wish you were."
-Ann Landers

"All of our unhappiness comes from our inability to be alone."
-Jean de la Bruyere

Maybe it's because I have been subject to more inquiries about my dating status this week than I have been in my entire life up to this point, but this week the topic of aloneness has been on my mind.

I love being alone. I really do. I need time alone every single day - if I don't get it, I go insane. And the more that I think about it, the more that I conclude that our culture tries to program us never, ever to be alone. We assume that so-called "loners" must have something wrong with them. For some reason we as a collective society seem to believe that there is something awful about having nothing but your own thoughts as your companion. I often wonder if that says something about the quality or content of our thoughts.

CNN, you're totally harshing my mellow, man.

2007-10-15T00:29:00.000-07:00

See video here on supposed "teen speak."

If there are indeed teenagers out there referring to dollar bills as "Kraft singles" I want to meet them - just so I can beat the living daylights out of them for using such a ridiculous expression and giving Generation Y a bad name. Honestly. And then I'd beat up CNN for wasting airtime on this ridiculous subject. This is news?

[Drink of the Day: Starbucks tall latte, extra hot]
[Currently Listening to: Not Sensitive, Moby]

Pomp & circumstance approaches

2007-10-10T14:36:00.000-07:00

Today I filed for graduation. I stood in line, waiting to give a woman behind the counter my $60 (dual degrees are expensive), and then I filled out my required graduation survey, which, among other things, asked me the following question:

Overall, how satisfied were you with your undergraduate experience?
a) Very satisifed
b) Satisfied
c) Dissatisfied
d) Very dissatisfied

I'll tell you what I am dissatisfied with: that ridiculous question, that's what I'm dissatisfied with.

So after working through the existential crisis brought about by the sheer terror of trying to figure out whether my undergraduate experience was "very satisfying" or just "satisfying," I completed the survey, filled out some more forms, and turned them in. I was left standing outside the student services building holding two receipts and looking down in bewilderment at my golden honor cords. And all I could think was:

Okay. So....that's it.

What a ridiculously weird feeling.

[Drink of the Day: Einstein's Darn Good Coffee, Global Village Blend]
[Currently Listening to: Glen Hansard, Falling Slowly]

At last, I am vindicated

2007-10-09T21:30:00.001-07:00

I always told all my friends in high school that Mountain Dew was about the most unnatural liquid substance known to man. I have always been a firm believer that anything that can dissolve a nail within hours (true story, we did a pH experiment in science class) shouldn't be anywhere near my teeth. I told them they were crazy to drink it and that someday it was going to dissolve their tongues out or burn their stomachs or even kill them.

Well, it might not kill them. But it just might make them glow in the dark.

Pictures!

2007-10-09T14:36:00.001-07:00

Make sure to check out the new Flickr Photostream over to the right. You can view and download any and all of my photos. I'll be updating this pretty regularly.

Album of the Week

2007-10-08T23:44:00.000-07:00

NIRVANA - NEVERMIND
In retrospect, it's an absolute travesty that Nirvana's Nevermind wasn't the very first Album of the Week, considering that this blog is essentially about life in Seattle and this is one of the all-time greatest bands Seattle has produced. Now are you ready for the second travesty?

I've never actually listened to the whole thing.

I know. How dare I consider myself a citizen of Seattle, right? I blame my strict upbringing (even "The Simpsons" was contraband in our household while I was growing up, and I can't even talk about what my parents would have done if I had come home with a Nirvana album, much less one with a naked baby on the front). Well, rest assured, folks, I'm doing what I can to right the wrongs created by my failure to develop good taste in music until college.

[Drink of the Day: No coffee today! Egad!]
[Currently Listening To: Smells like Teen Spirit, Nirvana]

Uncle Jay Explains the News

2007-10-08T21:44:00.000-07:00

Retreat

2007-10-06T18:19:00.001-07:00

Honors Devils Fall Retreat - a blast and a figurative as well as literal breath of fresh air - a welcome break from the endless heat and monotony of Phoenix. Camp Tontozona is such a great place - I like it more every time I go.

We left around 5pm and drove up - my car happened to have all of the new recruits, so it was great to get to know them a bit. We definitely picked five great people this semester, if I do say so myself.

The first exciting moment of retreat occurred at the midpoint of the drive, when a very large tarantula crawled out onto the highway in front of our car - I only realized what it was seconds before we ran over it. Unfortunately I'm pretty sure it was positioned between the wheels, so unless another car behind us nailed him (a possibility I cling to) he's still out there procreating and making more ghastly little monsters. I still maintain that I would rather live in a world filled with 25x more insects than deal with spiders of any sort. Surely God could have devised a less repulsive form of population control. Then again, he must have known that doing so would have deprived him and the rest of the car's occupants of the undeniable hilarity of watching me run over a tarantula at 70 miles per hour and then howl in disgust while doing the "Ew-I-just-saw-a-spider-and-now-I-have-the-shivers" dance in the driver's seat like a schoolgirl.

After arriving at camp, it was time to throw the sweatshirts on, breathe the crisp, mountain air, and devour an unholy amount of pizza which we had delivered to the cabin from Pizza Hut. All 16 of us who were on retreat fit into the large Creekside Cabin, which was great and meant that we weren't broken up into smaller groups but spent the entirety of the time together - great team building and bonding time.

When it got dark enough we headed down to the fire pit and built a small fire to sit around and play the obligatory "This-is-an-object-that-represents-me" game. Having forgotten something truly unique, I was forced to use my running shoes (which I was conveniently wearing) as my keepsake and explain what running meant to me. After that it was "most embarrassing moment" time, which Stephanie won hands-down with her story about losing her tube top on a roller coaster and having the ride's camera document the experience in its entirety.

Then we headed down to the field to lay in the grass and look at the stars. It is always so incredible to me when I get out of the city and see the sky at night, filled with billions of points of light. We could even see the Milky Way, which is something never, ever seen within Phoenix city limits. Whenever I see the stars that way - the way they were meant to be seen - I always think about what it must have been like for ancient peoples centuries ago, to be able to see that and be in awe of that all the time. I always resolve to spend more time in the mountains when I get back to Washington.

Literally not 35 seconds after we reached the field to lay down on our backs and look at the stars, the most enormous and bright shooting star I have ever seen in my entire life shot in a yellow-blue bolt across the sky. I honestly thought it was a firework going off at first. It was so incredibly close you would swear you could have touched it.

So we lay down on our backs, all 16 of us, in a huge circle, heads together, talking and laughing and swapping favorite lines from funny movies and TV shows and screaming in unison whenever a shooting star fell across the sky. For me, it was the absolute highlight of the retreat. It was both a wonderful and a sad experience for me - lying there, looking up at the stars with 16 of my favorite people in the world, I suddenly realized that this was the last time I would ever get to do this: the last Honors Devils retreat, the last time at Camp T.

It instantly put a pit in my stomach and reminded me that I'm growing increasingly aware of how quickly college is drawing to a close. Life always has its phases, and there have been lots of them, but school has always been a constant up till now. It's always been there, and the friendships and people that it fosters by association have always been there as well. Facing the fact that those things are about to fade away and be replaced by a much more serious world certainly makes you feel, well, small - especially while looking up at the Milky Way.

Pass the liquid crack, please.

2007-10-03T23:41:00.000-07:00

As my third pot (yes, pot) of coffee for today brews, here are some things I think you readers should know.

1. At this moment, it is exactly 11:43pm and I am just now sitting back down to work on my thesis, having finally finished fixing our group case study project almost singlehandedly. Again. Doing so took a grand total of about five hours. In economic terms, those five hours of my life which I shall never, ever have back - and which I will now spend working on my thesis into the wee hours of the morning - are what we refer to as "opportunity cost." There is no better teacher of this particular lesson than sleep deprivation.

2. The time is now 11:47pm, and I just received an email from a group member (see number 1) informing me that we're missing yet another piece of the project. This leaves me in the position of making a choice. Option 1 is to take the chance that said group member will finish this piece tomorrow morning before turning in the project, as promised. Option 2 is to not take that risk and simply do it myself. In economic terms, this is called "hedging" risk. It's usually done in currency trading and is usually expensive. In this case, the cost (opportunity cost!) is more lost sleep. And lost thesis time.

3. I am going to go and pour myself some coffee now while I ask myself why I do these things.

My Thesis Ate My Dog. And Princess Lea.

2007-09-30T12:50:00.000-07:00

See this guy here? I know EXACTLY how he feels. Here we are, fast approaching the end of the weekend, and I have far less to show for my thesis than I would like. There must be some scientific explanation for my incredible ability to accomplish so little in so much time.

My thesis has effectively devoured what small, pathetic vestiges of a social life I had left. I'm enough of a loner as it is; now the only contact I have with the outside world is either the guy behind the counter at Starbucks ("I'm sorry, I must have heard you wrong, sir; I thought I heard you say 'hextuple' shot latte! Haha! . . . You did?") or the pizza delivery man ("Dude, you again? What are you doing in there?").

I have decided that writing and researching a thesis is very much akin to a job feeding Jabba the Hut, primarily because you shovel inordinate amounts of food/crap into the thing and get so little back (except for the stuff that it vomits and/or burps back out at you. That you get to keep for free). And, of course, there's the oh-so-appropriate parallel created by the fact that if you don't give the thesis enough to eat, it most certainly will eat you.

Such a sad, sad existence, this thesis-life. November 2nd can't get here fast enough. All I can say is thank God for RefWorks, which the university gives us all free access to, and which will also hopefully preserve some small portion of my sanity for me to use once this is all over. If not, well, I trust my family and friends to find the nicest of sanitariums for me.

It's Saturday night. Do you know where YOUR honors student is?

2007-09-29T23:17:00.000-07:00

At the library, of course!

Too bad it closes at midnight. I'm on a roll.

Album of the Week

2007-09-27T09:25:00.001-07:00

KT TUNSTALL - EYE TO THE TELESCOPE

I bought this album less than 24 hours ago (on Amazon Mp3, no less, where I paid only $9.78 after tax) and I'm already addicted to it. KT Tunstall is one of those artists who is so genuinely talented that you can't help but appreciate her music. It's spunky but also soulful (not surprising since Ella Fitzgerald was an inspiration for her), it's awash in optimism but also punctuated with quiet, acoustic tunes that bring you back down to earth for a bit.

My two favorite tracks are also probably two of her most well-known: "Suddenly I See" and "Black Horse and The Cherry Tree." "Suddenly" is one of those optimistic tracks I referred to and has made it into my "Good Morning" playlist, which Iisten to while riding the bus to campus and reading the newspaper. It's a perfect addition to the wake-up lineup.

"Black Horse" is probably the song you'd recognize from being ridiculously overplayed on the radio a while back. I honestly hated it then, but somehow hearing it in isolation and amid the album that it's meant to be coupled with it just clicks. It's one of those "spunkier" ones I was talking about, with a sort of country-esque vibe to it that makes you feel like you're driving through the desert. It's also the song where the Ella influence shines through most obviously.

Overall, if you have 10 bucks to spare, this album is completely worth it.

[Drink of the Day: Iced Latte]
[Currently Listening to: Black Horse and the Cherry Tree by KT Tunstall. Duh]