I do not like Christmas music. I rarely sing it, I rarely listen to it, in fact the only Christmas CD I personally claim as owned and the only one I listen to is the Chris Rice one that is all instrumental. I love that CD. I do not like Christmas music. However I may have to rethink this stance. One thing before I explain.
It hit me the other night that Christmas music seems to belong in church more than other things. I know, Jesus' birth helps that but its funny because you can hear Christmas music all over and yet when it is sung in church it doesn't seem grossly out of place. In my opinion, 4th of July music does. Anyway, enough about that.
I was sitting in church on Christmas Eve, not an uncommon experience in my life. It was a good time to go drop off the man child and then sit with my lovely wife and experience a worship service dedicated to this magical birth. None of this was really out of the ordinary but something hit me that hadn't before.
We were singing one of my favorite Christmas songs--something I'm not a huge fan of--O Come Let Us Adore Him--really the words strike me as at times awkward, at times expectant and at times challenging. But it was the second verse, one that I think I've sung with a different thought in mind until that night.
For You Alone Are Worthy.
Now, I know what they are saying. I just think in my own mind I've sung them thinking as best I could amidst distractions of what was under the tree and how ridiculous what people can get away with wearing simply in the spirit of Christmas--red pants? Anyway, in the midst of that I've said to him that he alone is worthy. I've thought of that as a continuation I guess of the fact that we are there adoring him and then from that I've thought of it as a statement that only he is worthy of our adoration--a theologically correct statement (well, God is I know but you know what I mean). However, I suddenly was hit with the bigger picture of his birth. He alone is worthy of adoration, yes. But he alone is worthy of dying. To be all that he was, to fulfill all the prophecies he did/is, to live perfectly as he did left him alone worthy of dying for my sins.
I guess at times I'm guilty of rushing from Christmas to Easter. I'm really bad about knowing the end of the story and thus not wanting to sit around stalling and pretending I don't know how it all ends up. Let's be honest, he dies. It's horrible. It's necessary.
And so we sang, for you alone are worthy. You alone. Not me, not any of us,only you are worthy of my worship but also of my death. Dying in my place so I can have life. And then the clincher.
We'll Give You All The Glory.
Mmmmhh. Yeah, that part. The part about how even though he's the only one worthy I like to swoop in afterwards blushing and saying all glory to God while at the same moment deep in my heart saying "Go on, tell me more about myself and how incredible I am. And humble. How incredibly humble I am. Yes. Well, enough about me, let's talk about me."
So what makes him worthy makes me worthy as well and yet the glory is all his. Our pastor (seems wierd to say, I've always thought of myself as my own pastor--okay, more arrogance looks like) he was telling me, a part of that body of believers with him --he was reminding me of the necessity of sacrifice, of connection with God, with the blood of his son. I was being reminded of all that had happened in the past year, wondering what God had in store for us in the future year( What will I be saying about 2006?) and it came to me in my seat that that last line ought to be tatooed on my mind. I'll. Give. You. All. The. Glory. Giving it all to him. I mean it is his isn't it?
And it was in those moments that I realized the closest thing to a new years resolution that I'm going to have. To not just give him all the glory verbally but deep in my heart, the part about myself I've been most annoyed with. He alone is worthy after all.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Manchild v. Monkey
So maybe all this nonesense about monkeys in Carter's bed is true......
Last night we got home from church, hung out for a while and put Carter down to bed. I went downstairs to talk with my lovely wife and we hear Carter crying. Usually he'll cry once because he needs any number things: more milk, a toy, a different blanket and of course there is the occasionaly messed diaper.
Well last night I open the door to his room and there he is standing with his hand out. His face and mouth are covered with blood, he has blood all over his pj's. I yell for Ang and we take him in the bathroom. He's pretty well calmed down until he looks in the mirror. "Daddy...my face RED!!"
Turns out from what he tells me he was trying to reach a blanket in his closet and fell. Just a cut lip, no stitches, no puncture wounds.
We had to change his clothes though so we stood in his closet and he said "Daddy, I wear Go Ducks shirt". So we put his Joey Harrington jersey on and he yelled "Gooooo Ducks!!".
To help him out we gave him a popcicle so he'd keep something cold on it. So we sat and watched basketball and snuggled while he iced the wound. After about 5 minutes of that he jumped down from the couch and exclaims, "Daddy, I get football helmet, I get football, we play football!!" No, not tonight buddy. Someday your coach will love your "suck it up and get back in there" mentality but tonight we lay low.
Ang ended up cleaning the blood out of the carpet and off the wall by the door--it looked like a horror movie in there! Honestly though, I'm not buying the story. I think the monkeys told him to say that. I might be sleeping in his tent in there tonight.....
Last night we got home from church, hung out for a while and put Carter down to bed. I went downstairs to talk with my lovely wife and we hear Carter crying. Usually he'll cry once because he needs any number things: more milk, a toy, a different blanket and of course there is the occasionaly messed diaper.
Well last night I open the door to his room and there he is standing with his hand out. His face and mouth are covered with blood, he has blood all over his pj's. I yell for Ang and we take him in the bathroom. He's pretty well calmed down until he looks in the mirror. "Daddy...my face RED!!"
Turns out from what he tells me he was trying to reach a blanket in his closet and fell. Just a cut lip, no stitches, no puncture wounds.
We had to change his clothes though so we stood in his closet and he said "Daddy, I wear Go Ducks shirt". So we put his Joey Harrington jersey on and he yelled "Gooooo Ducks!!".
To help him out we gave him a popcicle so he'd keep something cold on it. So we sat and watched basketball and snuggled while he iced the wound. After about 5 minutes of that he jumped down from the couch and exclaims, "Daddy, I get football helmet, I get football, we play football!!" No, not tonight buddy. Someday your coach will love your "suck it up and get back in there" mentality but tonight we lay low.
Ang ended up cleaning the blood out of the carpet and off the wall by the door--it looked like a horror movie in there! Honestly though, I'm not buying the story. I think the monkeys told him to say that. I might be sleeping in his tent in there tonight.....
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Public Service Announcement
This just in:
According to reports from the man child--one Carter Gilchrist--there were monkeys in his bed last night. Apparently they were of enough nuicance that it required he spend the rest of the night in mommy and daddy's bed. We have been unable to secure evidence or for that matter any proof that said monkeys existed and/or were in his bedroom at any point. However even today he claims his story to be true. At this point Curious George or the fabulous Boots a known accomplice of Dora the Explorer--an international criminal and bilingual sweet talker--seem to be our leading suspects. Of course the reassurgence of one King Kong has also raised some eyebrows. Please be alert and suspicious of any incredibly hairy creatures lingering around playgrounds, schools and day cares.
According to reports from the man child--one Carter Gilchrist--there were monkeys in his bed last night. Apparently they were of enough nuicance that it required he spend the rest of the night in mommy and daddy's bed. We have been unable to secure evidence or for that matter any proof that said monkeys existed and/or were in his bedroom at any point. However even today he claims his story to be true. At this point Curious George or the fabulous Boots a known accomplice of Dora the Explorer--an international criminal and bilingual sweet talker--seem to be our leading suspects. Of course the reassurgence of one King Kong has also raised some eyebrows. Please be alert and suspicious of any incredibly hairy creatures lingering around playgrounds, schools and day cares.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Wake Up Call
A couple weeks ago I was feeling sorry for myself. It wasn't that things were bad, I was just busy and frustrated because I was getting ready to preach/teach a bunch and there wasn't much coming together. I hadn't been preparing well, nor did I have much freshness in my faith at the moment from which to tap in to.
I showed up for Wednesday night Bible study prepared to drop some crazy knowledge on 2 Samuel 8. Okay, so the lesson wasn't the best ever but it had some worthwhile stuff. What I walked away with left me humbled.
Our church youth group has a young man who has some mental difficulties. I think the latest PC way to say it is that he's mentally challenged. He's a really sweet kid and usually hilarious to watch because he laughs when he shouldn't and shows this raw passion for God that is at times inspiring and at times disarming.
On this particular night he sat next to me at the back of the room. I admit I was in need of some worship time on my own, looking forward to singing some prayers and reading over my notes so as to teach as well as possible.
But he sat next to me.
It took about 30 seconds into one song and I notice he's making strange motions. Then he looks at me with eyes wide open as if I'm supposed to make a response to this. He gets more and more animated and I start to look around the room to see if people are watching me but realize I'm on my own here.
Finally I figure out what he's doing.He's using sign language. For the next 4 songs he shows me every word he knows from the songs we're singing. I admit I start to get pretty good at guessing the words. I goof up a couple times, once on the word God (oops, I thought it was Lord). He basically yells--no, God!! God!! God!! A couple people turn around but they're used to it. I'm not.
I'm not used to being excited about using my limited vocabulary and speaking to God the only way I can. I'm not used to the joy that comes from hearing a word and knowing how to say it myself--maybe even grasping a small amount of what it means.
Language is power. Without words we struggle to communicate. Without words we can't explain what we're thinking, feeling, seeing. Can you imagine John trying to explain the revelation without words. Can you imagine Isaiah relating his experience with God using only motions. What about Lazarus explaining how he was brought back from the dead without words. What about a sermon without words. What about Moses telling his journey with no words. What about Paul taking a missionary journey and not using words. It's impossible.
And so this young man was excited because he could sing along. Sentences are a chore, him telling you information is a long process for him and difficult for me to understand. And yet when he signed he spoke clearly.
After singing was over we spent some time in prayer for a guy here in the office who's wife just had cancer removed from her lymph nodes in her neck. We were encouraged to get in small groups and pray for the family.
Even after all this I thought that maybe if I closed my eyes and put my head in my hands and prayed he's leave me alone and join another group. A few seconds in I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"I guess its just you and me." he said.
Still not getting it I asked, "Do you want to pray with those kids over there or here with me?"
"Here."
So I began to bow my head when he tapped my shoulder again. "You pray because I can't very well."
And so I worded a prayer for the both of us. And suddenly I was very ashamed of myself. I was ashamed that I'd had a pity party over the words I would be sharing that night and that coming weekend. I began to realize how lucky I was that God chooses to use this foolishness and allow me to in some crazy way, speak for him. And I realized how I'd made it so much about me and so little about him.
Again.
I showed up for Wednesday night Bible study prepared to drop some crazy knowledge on 2 Samuel 8. Okay, so the lesson wasn't the best ever but it had some worthwhile stuff. What I walked away with left me humbled.
Our church youth group has a young man who has some mental difficulties. I think the latest PC way to say it is that he's mentally challenged. He's a really sweet kid and usually hilarious to watch because he laughs when he shouldn't and shows this raw passion for God that is at times inspiring and at times disarming.
On this particular night he sat next to me at the back of the room. I admit I was in need of some worship time on my own, looking forward to singing some prayers and reading over my notes so as to teach as well as possible.
But he sat next to me.
It took about 30 seconds into one song and I notice he's making strange motions. Then he looks at me with eyes wide open as if I'm supposed to make a response to this. He gets more and more animated and I start to look around the room to see if people are watching me but realize I'm on my own here.
Finally I figure out what he's doing.He's using sign language. For the next 4 songs he shows me every word he knows from the songs we're singing. I admit I start to get pretty good at guessing the words. I goof up a couple times, once on the word God (oops, I thought it was Lord). He basically yells--no, God!! God!! God!! A couple people turn around but they're used to it. I'm not.
I'm not used to being excited about using my limited vocabulary and speaking to God the only way I can. I'm not used to the joy that comes from hearing a word and knowing how to say it myself--maybe even grasping a small amount of what it means.
Language is power. Without words we struggle to communicate. Without words we can't explain what we're thinking, feeling, seeing. Can you imagine John trying to explain the revelation without words. Can you imagine Isaiah relating his experience with God using only motions. What about Lazarus explaining how he was brought back from the dead without words. What about a sermon without words. What about Moses telling his journey with no words. What about Paul taking a missionary journey and not using words. It's impossible.
And so this young man was excited because he could sing along. Sentences are a chore, him telling you information is a long process for him and difficult for me to understand. And yet when he signed he spoke clearly.
After singing was over we spent some time in prayer for a guy here in the office who's wife just had cancer removed from her lymph nodes in her neck. We were encouraged to get in small groups and pray for the family.
Even after all this I thought that maybe if I closed my eyes and put my head in my hands and prayed he's leave me alone and join another group. A few seconds in I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"I guess its just you and me." he said.
Still not getting it I asked, "Do you want to pray with those kids over there or here with me?"
"Here."
So I began to bow my head when he tapped my shoulder again. "You pray because I can't very well."
And so I worded a prayer for the both of us. And suddenly I was very ashamed of myself. I was ashamed that I'd had a pity party over the words I would be sharing that night and that coming weekend. I began to realize how lucky I was that God chooses to use this foolishness and allow me to in some crazy way, speak for him. And I realized how I'd made it so much about me and so little about him.
Again.
Monday, December 12, 2005
HD or Who I Am Hates Who I've Been
And all my soul needs,
is for your love to cover me.
So all the world will see,
that I am nothing,
without you.
I've been thinking about my little technology experience from a week ago. Something from that conversation keeps gnawing at me.
In the midst of my dealings with underinformed Best Buy employees they dropped a piece of theology on me that I wasn't prepared for. Somehow the conversation was talking about how my TV is HD capable but how if I didn't use the right cords and components, it didn't matter what capability my TV had, if my inputs weren't good my signal would never be HD.
Basically they were telling me that if I didn't have an HD signal coming into my TV what showed up on the screen wouldn't be HD.I could be way off here but it got me to thinking.....
I believe that I and everybody else was created to live life in High Definition. That we have the capability to broadcast to the world crystal clear detail, brilliant color and incredible sound. However the problem isn't the signal itself, its how we get it.
We settle for pirating our signal off someone elses experience. We sit in church on Sunday waiting for the preacher to wow us or fill us with a passion and some tidbit of inspiration we're too lazy to find ourself. We think an experience we read in a book or a proverb we read in an email will empower our soul and spur us on to new heights.
Sometimes it does. For a moment.
I've found myself being a consumer. Trying to read everything, listen to everything and being frustrated when the sermon didn't fill me with fire or the book left me disappointed. I've settled. Not in a way where I was getting a bad signal. It just wasn't all it could be. I was settling for a little blurry, a little washed out. Not totally clear but still you got the general idea. The sad thing was I didn't notice how bad it really was.
I remember when I was looking for my TV I stood in the store and I talked to the knowledgable little fella about signal. I made him show me a TV with HD broadcast and then immediately switch to a less clear signal.
The difference was horrifying.
It's not like the less clear picture sucked. It just missed all the little details, the things that made the picture "pop". I was amazed at how little things, extra details made the thing so much better.
And so I've been looking at my own life, my own picture. Well, not really my picture but the picture of Christ that others see through me. I've discovered I'm less than HD.
And so I've made some changes. I'm tired of some of the old and I'm intersted in some of the new. I've changed what I'm doing with my free time, I've changed what I'm reading or better yet what I'm not reading. Okay, the truth is I'm not reading much of anything except the Bible. I've been guilty of reading everything and bootlegging off of some other dudes insight. Not a bad thing at times, I've done it for the sake of sermons and lessons and at the end of the day I've found that personal growth has resulted in more impact for me and for those I share with. Not that my stuff is better than others--I'm quite sure I'm less than extraordinary. Its more like the signal is just a little clearer and the color a little more brilliant.
I guess what I'm saying is I've come to hate who I've been. I've become selfish, a poor listener, self absorbed, complacent, lazy, ritualistic, a pharisee. It's not like I'm proud of it or like I wanted to end up there. It's simply time to change.
I'm sorry for the person I became.
I'm sorry that it took so long for me to change.
I'm ready to make sure I never become that way again.
Cause who I am hates who I've been, who I am hates who I've been.
So here's to cleaning up our signals. Here's to being honest with ourselves and with God and figuring out what it will take to not water down God but rather get out of the way, and get into Him in such a way that the picture people see is a better representation of the king of the universe.
is for your love to cover me.
So all the world will see,
that I am nothing,
without you.
I've been thinking about my little technology experience from a week ago. Something from that conversation keeps gnawing at me.
In the midst of my dealings with underinformed Best Buy employees they dropped a piece of theology on me that I wasn't prepared for. Somehow the conversation was talking about how my TV is HD capable but how if I didn't use the right cords and components, it didn't matter what capability my TV had, if my inputs weren't good my signal would never be HD.
Basically they were telling me that if I didn't have an HD signal coming into my TV what showed up on the screen wouldn't be HD.I could be way off here but it got me to thinking.....
I believe that I and everybody else was created to live life in High Definition. That we have the capability to broadcast to the world crystal clear detail, brilliant color and incredible sound. However the problem isn't the signal itself, its how we get it.
We settle for pirating our signal off someone elses experience. We sit in church on Sunday waiting for the preacher to wow us or fill us with a passion and some tidbit of inspiration we're too lazy to find ourself. We think an experience we read in a book or a proverb we read in an email will empower our soul and spur us on to new heights.
Sometimes it does. For a moment.
I've found myself being a consumer. Trying to read everything, listen to everything and being frustrated when the sermon didn't fill me with fire or the book left me disappointed. I've settled. Not in a way where I was getting a bad signal. It just wasn't all it could be. I was settling for a little blurry, a little washed out. Not totally clear but still you got the general idea. The sad thing was I didn't notice how bad it really was.
I remember when I was looking for my TV I stood in the store and I talked to the knowledgable little fella about signal. I made him show me a TV with HD broadcast and then immediately switch to a less clear signal.
The difference was horrifying.
It's not like the less clear picture sucked. It just missed all the little details, the things that made the picture "pop". I was amazed at how little things, extra details made the thing so much better.
And so I've been looking at my own life, my own picture. Well, not really my picture but the picture of Christ that others see through me. I've discovered I'm less than HD.
And so I've made some changes. I'm tired of some of the old and I'm intersted in some of the new. I've changed what I'm doing with my free time, I've changed what I'm reading or better yet what I'm not reading. Okay, the truth is I'm not reading much of anything except the Bible. I've been guilty of reading everything and bootlegging off of some other dudes insight. Not a bad thing at times, I've done it for the sake of sermons and lessons and at the end of the day I've found that personal growth has resulted in more impact for me and for those I share with. Not that my stuff is better than others--I'm quite sure I'm less than extraordinary. Its more like the signal is just a little clearer and the color a little more brilliant.
I guess what I'm saying is I've come to hate who I've been. I've become selfish, a poor listener, self absorbed, complacent, lazy, ritualistic, a pharisee. It's not like I'm proud of it or like I wanted to end up there. It's simply time to change.
I'm sorry for the person I became.
I'm sorry that it took so long for me to change.
I'm ready to make sure I never become that way again.
Cause who I am hates who I've been, who I am hates who I've been.
So here's to cleaning up our signals. Here's to being honest with ourselves and with God and figuring out what it will take to not water down God but rather get out of the way, and get into Him in such a way that the picture people see is a better representation of the king of the universe.
The Smell of Settling
I love cleaning. I know that sounds wierd and if you talked to Ang she would remind you that "we have a different definition of clean". But I really like to clean or better yet maybe I like to organize and straighten things up. As a guy I love to clean the garage, a room (not technically) that most don't care much to mess with. It's a place to park the cars or possibly to keep all the crap we don't know what else to do with. Others use basements, spare rooms, storage units and on a small scale that preverbial "junk" drawer full of all the stuff we don't know when we might need and yet can't ever find when we do need.
I've found that I've been happiest when I have a big garage. In Quincy we had this nice home with a extra house/garage complete with a heater and cabinets and it was glorious. It was a homebase for weight lifting (that one time when I did that), a place to cool off after hours and hours of basketball and even a place I had some pretty significant conversations. In Colorado we had one of those new "double" garages which technically can park two cars but only if you own a Kia or some other midget car. No healthy human can actually park in there and get out without stealing a couple moves from Houdini. There were some shelves (nice ones albeit) and we stored some stuff but to do anything in the garage it meant moving something else. Now we again have a healthy garage. One that holds things, you can actually park our cars in and a place where I love to clean and organize. Its about time for some new shelves and I find myself periodically going through what we own and consolidating and throwing away. At times I throw away things that later are necessary (ie. Christmas decorations, other decorations, mainly anything my lovely wife might need but never anything I want--not that it actually has happened but it could.....) but for the most part its quite a nice place.
Part of what makes it so nice right now is what happened a few months ago. For some strange reason Ang and I got this bee in our preverbial bonnet to clean. We'd been in Colorado for a while and weren't planning on going anywhere in the near future but we were tired of all the garbage. It wasn't really garbage, it was just stuff everywhere. Most of it had moved with us from Quincy and was in boxes--some of which had never been opened. We started using whatever extra room was in our garbage can each week to throw stuff out. We made up rules like if we haven't used it or needed it since we got here it goes. Turns out our move to Joplin was much easier because we didn't have to take all sorts of misc. junk with us.
What really made me think was when I'd talk to people about this experience they'd tell me they too had stuff sitting everywhere. Half of this, a part of this, these old things with no real value, just too nice to get rid of. And we all had/have boxes of junk. I remember opening some boxes in the garage in Colorado and not finding a single thing of value or even one thing worth keeping. Yet the box had been sitting there for months, just taking up space. All said and done we turned a house full of things into a box or two of actual value and things worth keeping.
It's become time to do that with my life. I've found all sorts of stuff sitting around, taking up space and much of it isn't of value or no longer represents who I am. I've found that its time to throw out a lot of the old and replace it with new. I've realized I've become pretty stale spiritually. I've been thinking many of the same thoughts, saying many of the same things and praying many of the same prayers for much too long. What I've ended up with isn't what I want to have any more.
The past few weeks I've gone through and thrown out a lot, I've sold a ton of books, I've thrown out illustrations and I've quit reading. I've decided to go back to a much more simple, direct approach and quit settling for what I have or once had. Most of it is meaningless to you but important to me. It's time to hold on to my past--the parts I need and that add value and its time to start reinventing myself, refreshing, transforming and becoming new. It should be that way all the time. it shouldn't just happen during spring cleaning and when you're frustrated because you have to move so much other stuff to get to the stuff you want. But that's not a bad time to start.
I've found that I've been happiest when I have a big garage. In Quincy we had this nice home with a extra house/garage complete with a heater and cabinets and it was glorious. It was a homebase for weight lifting (that one time when I did that), a place to cool off after hours and hours of basketball and even a place I had some pretty significant conversations. In Colorado we had one of those new "double" garages which technically can park two cars but only if you own a Kia or some other midget car. No healthy human can actually park in there and get out without stealing a couple moves from Houdini. There were some shelves (nice ones albeit) and we stored some stuff but to do anything in the garage it meant moving something else. Now we again have a healthy garage. One that holds things, you can actually park our cars in and a place where I love to clean and organize. Its about time for some new shelves and I find myself periodically going through what we own and consolidating and throwing away. At times I throw away things that later are necessary (ie. Christmas decorations, other decorations, mainly anything my lovely wife might need but never anything I want--not that it actually has happened but it could.....) but for the most part its quite a nice place.
Part of what makes it so nice right now is what happened a few months ago. For some strange reason Ang and I got this bee in our preverbial bonnet to clean. We'd been in Colorado for a while and weren't planning on going anywhere in the near future but we were tired of all the garbage. It wasn't really garbage, it was just stuff everywhere. Most of it had moved with us from Quincy and was in boxes--some of which had never been opened. We started using whatever extra room was in our garbage can each week to throw stuff out. We made up rules like if we haven't used it or needed it since we got here it goes. Turns out our move to Joplin was much easier because we didn't have to take all sorts of misc. junk with us.
What really made me think was when I'd talk to people about this experience they'd tell me they too had stuff sitting everywhere. Half of this, a part of this, these old things with no real value, just too nice to get rid of. And we all had/have boxes of junk. I remember opening some boxes in the garage in Colorado and not finding a single thing of value or even one thing worth keeping. Yet the box had been sitting there for months, just taking up space. All said and done we turned a house full of things into a box or two of actual value and things worth keeping.
It's become time to do that with my life. I've found all sorts of stuff sitting around, taking up space and much of it isn't of value or no longer represents who I am. I've found that its time to throw out a lot of the old and replace it with new. I've realized I've become pretty stale spiritually. I've been thinking many of the same thoughts, saying many of the same things and praying many of the same prayers for much too long. What I've ended up with isn't what I want to have any more.
The past few weeks I've gone through and thrown out a lot, I've sold a ton of books, I've thrown out illustrations and I've quit reading. I've decided to go back to a much more simple, direct approach and quit settling for what I have or once had. Most of it is meaningless to you but important to me. It's time to hold on to my past--the parts I need and that add value and its time to start reinventing myself, refreshing, transforming and becoming new. It should be that way all the time. it shouldn't just happen during spring cleaning and when you're frustrated because you have to move so much other stuff to get to the stuff you want. But that's not a bad time to start.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Nobody Warned Me About This
Dallas, TX :::December 8,2005
Usually when you start a job or at least when you're interviewing, they will tell you about potential perks and pitfalls of taking the job. You know, things like when you work at Subway you get all the veggies and pop you want. The downside is probably what veggies and pop in huge quantities do to your digestive system.
Yesterday I stumbled into one of these for me. I spent the entire afternoon--4.5 hours riding around the city of Dallas with a man I've known from a distance, at times admired and always respected. He grew up in the city, grew up poor and now teaches and lives urban ministry. I don't know if it is my own childhood, my own love for the city or what but the day captured me. And in the meantime I fell in love with a people I don't yet know.
I don't remember how it actually happened. Much in the same way you start out reading a book only to look up and realize you've been reading for hours and your heart and mind are captured, filled, overwhelmed and you want to simply soak in that moment..much in that way it happened. Suddenly lunch and business had become 290 minutes of stories, sermons, lessons, people, visions and realities blurring into me basically collapsing in a chair at the airport trying to make sense of what I was feeling..thinking..dreaming.
The story isn't all that remarkable, its definately a "you had to be there" thing and yet as I told him as we parted ways I want others to be "there". In fact I'm going to make that happen. I wish you, if you give any sort of a rip about the gospel could have this experience. To see what I saw, to hear what I heard and then to just see what God does in your heart.
I've lost my heart a few times. I lost it after I started Bible College and it took some letters to bring me back. I lost it somewhere during the journey that was Colorado. It took Cincinnati and Washington DC to bring it back. I'd questioned it in the past few weeks and it took Dallas to fill it with something that can't be taken away. In the coming days I'll try and put some of it down on a screen. I'm sure it won't do it justice but it needs to be released somehow.
In the meantime, may God blow you away. May you know that what you're doing is exactly why you're here. May you not feel as though you are passing time or surviving a moment or may you at least for the moment soar above the storm on something much bigger than you and be filled with new energy and life. Blessings.
Usually when you start a job or at least when you're interviewing, they will tell you about potential perks and pitfalls of taking the job. You know, things like when you work at Subway you get all the veggies and pop you want. The downside is probably what veggies and pop in huge quantities do to your digestive system.
Yesterday I stumbled into one of these for me. I spent the entire afternoon--4.5 hours riding around the city of Dallas with a man I've known from a distance, at times admired and always respected. He grew up in the city, grew up poor and now teaches and lives urban ministry. I don't know if it is my own childhood, my own love for the city or what but the day captured me. And in the meantime I fell in love with a people I don't yet know.
I don't remember how it actually happened. Much in the same way you start out reading a book only to look up and realize you've been reading for hours and your heart and mind are captured, filled, overwhelmed and you want to simply soak in that moment..much in that way it happened. Suddenly lunch and business had become 290 minutes of stories, sermons, lessons, people, visions and realities blurring into me basically collapsing in a chair at the airport trying to make sense of what I was feeling..thinking..dreaming.
The story isn't all that remarkable, its definately a "you had to be there" thing and yet as I told him as we parted ways I want others to be "there". In fact I'm going to make that happen. I wish you, if you give any sort of a rip about the gospel could have this experience. To see what I saw, to hear what I heard and then to just see what God does in your heart.
I've lost my heart a few times. I lost it after I started Bible College and it took some letters to bring me back. I lost it somewhere during the journey that was Colorado. It took Cincinnati and Washington DC to bring it back. I'd questioned it in the past few weeks and it took Dallas to fill it with something that can't be taken away. In the coming days I'll try and put some of it down on a screen. I'm sure it won't do it justice but it needs to be released somehow.
In the meantime, may God blow you away. May you know that what you're doing is exactly why you're here. May you not feel as though you are passing time or surviving a moment or may you at least for the moment soar above the storm on something much bigger than you and be filled with new energy and life. Blessings.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Yes I Love Technology
I have this theory that next time I move--about 50 years from now-- I'm going to live near a hotel so I can have free wireless internet in my house. I'm sure that moving and living by a hotel would be totally worth it if I could sit on my couch and surf the net.
Last weekend I had "one of those days" with technology. As most know I sold my soul to Satan and bought a big screen TV. It is amazing though my lovely wife couldn't care less about the thing. I do confess there are nights when I must pull myself away and be social with the family simply because the power of the thing is overwhelming. I find myself saying things like "Carter, don't you want to watch another basketball game with Daddy? This is a big matchup, I don't know if Southeast Missouri Southern State College of the Midwest University can upset their hated rivals, those one guys from Oklahoma something."
Anyway, last week our VCR broke. Right now because of how the house is wired I have to run the satellite through a VCR which is fine. However the VCR broke and it was the only way to run signal into the TV. It was the weekend of USC v UCLA and Texas v Colorado (sort of) etc. So I'm frantic to fix this thing and we decide that we'll replace the VCR with a new DVD player that can do the same thing. I drive into town (15-18 minutes one way on a Saturday) to Best Buy and after being assured by their experts that this DVD player will do what I want drive home with a smile and visions of S-Video bouncing in my head.
Turns out it doesn't work.
Back to Best Buy (15-18 minutes one way..you get the idea) and I find a different expert, this time a male, why I listened to a female the first time still mystifies me. He assures me this new doohickey for only $30 will do what I want. I drive home with a smaller smile and more realistic visions of S-Video bobbing in my head.
Turns out it doesn't work.
So I find out that a DVD player can't do what I want so I must find a new VCR. Turns out those are almost extinct. Who wants a VCR? Well, I guess I do. I finally locate one and drive back into town (yeah) to get it. Pull into the parking lot and as I'm walking into the store realize I've left my wallet...at the house. I drive home with no smile whatsoever and a mind wondering where my old school antanae might be.
Back at the house I walk out to the garage and pull the VCR out of the garbage to try and get Carter's movie that was stuck in it when it died out. I take it out and just for poops and giggles go hook it back up.
Turns out it works.
Last weekend I had "one of those days" with technology. As most know I sold my soul to Satan and bought a big screen TV. It is amazing though my lovely wife couldn't care less about the thing. I do confess there are nights when I must pull myself away and be social with the family simply because the power of the thing is overwhelming. I find myself saying things like "Carter, don't you want to watch another basketball game with Daddy? This is a big matchup, I don't know if Southeast Missouri Southern State College of the Midwest University can upset their hated rivals, those one guys from Oklahoma something."
Anyway, last week our VCR broke. Right now because of how the house is wired I have to run the satellite through a VCR which is fine. However the VCR broke and it was the only way to run signal into the TV. It was the weekend of USC v UCLA and Texas v Colorado (sort of) etc. So I'm frantic to fix this thing and we decide that we'll replace the VCR with a new DVD player that can do the same thing. I drive into town (15-18 minutes one way on a Saturday) to Best Buy and after being assured by their experts that this DVD player will do what I want drive home with a smile and visions of S-Video bouncing in my head.
Turns out it doesn't work.
Back to Best Buy (15-18 minutes one way..you get the idea) and I find a different expert, this time a male, why I listened to a female the first time still mystifies me. He assures me this new doohickey for only $30 will do what I want. I drive home with a smaller smile and more realistic visions of S-Video bobbing in my head.
Turns out it doesn't work.
So I find out that a DVD player can't do what I want so I must find a new VCR. Turns out those are almost extinct. Who wants a VCR? Well, I guess I do. I finally locate one and drive back into town (yeah) to get it. Pull into the parking lot and as I'm walking into the store realize I've left my wallet...at the house. I drive home with no smile whatsoever and a mind wondering where my old school antanae might be.
Back at the house I walk out to the garage and pull the VCR out of the garbage to try and get Carter's movie that was stuck in it when it died out. I take it out and just for poops and giggles go hook it back up.
Turns out it works.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)