There’s no place like home.

So the longer I stay here in West Columbia, the more it’s beginning to feel like home.  I feel like the worst possible thing is to be in a place where nowhere feels like home.  It’s a rather desperate, lonely feeling that seems to suck away at your soul.  Rather than having someplace where you can lower your guard, be your absolute self and recharge, you find yourself running on empty.  With nowhere safe to selah, the fingers of your heart begin reaching desperately out for Light, like a plant in a dark room, straining for that small crack in the door.

But this place has very much helped with that.  I started off pretty defensive about the situation, to be honest, because I didn’t really know what to expect.  I’ve had these types of things play out both ways, and I didn’t need another bad one.  But now that I’ve been here a month or so, I’m beginning to appreciate it all. 

See, in general, I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, but I’m very slow to give it out.    My roomates are crazy, but I know now without question that when the rubber meets the road, they’ve got my back, and they’re not backing down.  I’m not one to make hasty friendships, or quickly build meaningful relationships, but I’m beginning to love these men.  T-Bomb, Boom, Grandpa Screws, and even Brent “Champ” Schultheis,  I feel like each one has taught me some new perspective on life in these past couple of months whether they actually have realized it or not.    I’m very much blessed to be here.  My Father knows me, and loves me well.

Getting back into the the swing of things.

Hello again blog world, it’s been awhile.  Sorry about that, my life’s been pretty nuts lately and I haven’t had ample time to simply sit, relax, and write.  Since we last spoke, I have moved into a new house, been blown away by God, started back school, and painted a picture.  Yeah, I know, crazy. 

  So a week or two ago I was at the house of a few of my friends, and it was brought up in conversation that I should move into the empty room they had left over from another guy moving out.  I told them that they although it was a really good offer, but that it wasn’t going to work out.  I had a year-long lease at my apartment complex which could be only broken if you found a subleaser.  PLUS, I told them, I cared about the guys I was living with, and certainly wasn’t going to leave them high and dry.  In the end, we decided that if it was really something God wanted to happen, that He’d make it happen, and the conversation sort of fizzled out for the evening.

A day or two later, I picked up my good friend Min from the airport.  He was visiting his family in Korea over the Christmas break, and now back in town, he was stressing out.  Turns out, because of some extenuating circumstances, he got fired from his RA position in the residence hall so he was now, in effect, homeless.  He had two days to find a place to stay.  I told him about my situation and the offer to move into the new house, and how it wouldn’t happen unless I found someone to move into my old room.  He started freaking out in classic Min fashion, while I sat and tried to soak in the situation and all it’s connotations.  I feel like that pretty much sums up our relationship.  But anyway, to make a long story short, it was very obviously what God was wanting for the both of us in this situation, and a very creative answer to prayer.

I heard someone speaking on Luke 11 recently.  About how God is a loving father, and he genuinely wants to give us what we want, but that even moreso he wants what’s best for us.  Even though we may think that a certain outcome is undoubtedly the best thing that could happen, there’s still that whole thing about being limited by our brokenness, and contained by our limited view of time.  That’s why I find it easier to take his word for it and trust that if what I want doesn’t work out, that he’s got something better in mind.  I guess all that to say that I feel like this particular instance was one of those times.  I knew what I wanted in my heart, but it seemed very much impossible.  And then, in the most unexpected way, my Father provided, reassuring the lingering questions in my heart.

Whenever I go to write…

Without fail, it seems, whenever the Spirit gives me some wonderful insight that I want to write down, I’m able to think clearly upon the idea up until the time I sit down with my computer.  At that point, my head is filled with voices.  (Yeah, i know, you’re crazy.  Maybe..?  ::shrugs::)  But anyway, these voices are always subtle, but decisive and piercing.  It usually starts off with something like, “You can’t write tonight, do it later..or tomorrow.” (I never seem to get back around to it)  This usually gets me, because there’s almost always some sort of commotion going on at my apartment, or something else I could be getting done.  If that doesn’t prevail, however, it gets more personal.  “So what makes you actually think anybody cares about what you have to say?…”  or my personal favorite…”Don’t kid yourself, you’re only writing this out of self righteousness.  You just want people to read this and like you more.”

It’s rather demoralizing, really.  It’s not just while writing, however, it’s in other things as well.  I feel as though any form of creativity and spontaneity is continually being siphoned away.  Not to sound over dramatic or anything, but I guess you have to understand a little bit about my personality.  I thrive off of the ability to be spontaneous.  I live for the opportunity to explore and make adventures out of the mundane.  There’s just this nebulous element of optimism that seems to hover around on certain days, suggesting that this day in particular could, quite possibly, be momentous.  I like having the feeling that I’ve got it within me to make someone else’s day better.  So, naturally, there’s nothing that kills me quicker than pessimism.  There’s nothing that gets me more frustrated, than someone who’s constantly discouraging, or when someone decides for me that I can’t do something. 

So all of that to say, this semester has been emotionally taxing.  I’m not used to all this.  I feel very much like a squeezed orange.  I guess, then, my only hope is for my Father to sow new seeds of Himself within my heart.  Only then will I find the rest that I need.

and He said to me…

The people who survive the sword will find favor in the desert. 
I will build you up again and you will be rebuilt. 
I am the painter making this mess a masterpiece.
I will rebuild you up again
                                                          – (“Meridian” – August Burns Red)

…You are my portion,

all my hope is in You.

do with me what You want.

I’m Yours.

Father how disgraceful I am!

I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve you…

Deeper than anything, I ache for you,

but my flesh holds tight the chain around my neck.

I hate this treachery, I hate this hypocrisy

this traitor inside that I cannot destroy.

Father I’m sorry, I’m so sorry

…but why should you believe me?

Why pull out this knife

when I’m sure to plunge it deep once again?

creating yet another scar…

So quickly I forget about your provision

that I would chase these idols for elusive intimacy.

Father rid me of this heart…

it pursues nothing but corruption

…leaving me choking in the wake

I claim to love you

yet I stab you with this selfishness…

and punch you with this pride

Who do I think I am?

I’m overwhelmed with shame.

I don’t deserve to know you

I don’t even deserve to know of you…

Father, strip me of this pride

force me into humility.

You’re all I’ve got

I don’t want to waste any more time

taking you for granted..

Papa, please don’t give up on me..

I need you.

I Love You…

So lately I’ve just been dealing with a few different stressful situations, each one frustrating in its own way.  Although I wish all of them would just go away and resolve on their own, I feel God specifically teaching me something through each one.  Nevertheless, the fact that I’m learning from them doesn’t make them any less stressful or frustrating.  It’s honestly been one of the most difficult semesters of college, not for academic reasons, but rather because of all the drama that I’ve had to wade through.  If discernment and perceptiveness were muscles, I daresay mine are completely spent.  I feel as though I’ve spent the entire semester on guard and engaged without much time to rest, recharge and selah.  Every time I try something randomly comes up to keep me from Jesus.  The times I am able to find time to rest and hang out with Jesus often feel forced.  This is miserable.  It’s the same feeling you get when an old friend is in town to catch up, and you’re trying to cram months upon months of life events into an hour lunch break.  No matter what you actually get to talk about, there is that nagging, unspoken feeling that all the important stuff has been left unsaid.  After a number of these ‘lunch breaks’ consecutively, things just don’t seem the same anymore.  I’m less excited to be doing what I’m doing, less excited about everything, honestly. I feel like I’m feeding God a bunch of B.S., going through the relational motions…where relationships go to die, quite frankly.

But then, he does something unexpected. 

The other day my roomate Tim and I were in Wal-Mart to pick-up a few forgotten things from a trip earlier in the week.  It had been another frustratingly fake few days, and if I’m honest, I was at Wal-Mart simply to escape.  I wanted nothing more than to just having some way to evade the ever-present elephant in the room, and when Tim suggested a Wal-Mart run, I was thankful.  As we walked into the store, I grabbed the nearest buggy with the least amount of rust.  I walked a few steps and noticed that there was a piece of purple construction paper lying in the bottom of the basket, so I grabbed it.  It turned out to be a card, written with the crayon of a child, addressed to no one in particular, but written to me.  The front simply saying “I [heart] you,” while the inside was covered with “XOXO’s.”

Just when I begin to wonder if this desert will ever produce water, He breaks through the barriers that have stifled our ability to enjoy each other’s company.  He shatters through the strained silence to speak into my heart.  He says, “ok, can we be real?  I love you.  You are mine.  You mean more to me than you’re really ever going to understand anyway, so let’s just start from here.  I know you’ve been wearing thin.  Follow me I want to show you Life.  We can talk about your troubles on the way.”

 

Starbucks People and the fear of shiny shoes.

I know I really should be studying for my exam right now, but something about sitting here in starbucks is strangely beckoning me to write. I just find it interesting to sit here and people watch. There are students, faithfully working on papers and projects, and businessmen casually joking in their white shirts and shiny black shoes. There’s a mid-forties couple on an awkward introductory date, and a homeless man in front of me on a laptop with headphones on top of his greasy toboggan. It’s all just curious to me – to see people from every walk of life, and notice the way they seem to interact with one another in the melting pot of starbucks. The slightly overweight businessman, living in the ghost of his fraternity days, gives an obvious second glance toward the woman in the high heels and the blue, button-up blouse. I suppose he’s looking for something that his wedding ring forbids. Then of course there’s the skater, artistic type that shyly moseys in with tattered shoes and a zip-up hoodie. Oh wait, that’s Jay Hendricks. Hah!

I see all these people and I wonder if they’re happy with what they’re doing. I mean, I’m sure their lives are enjoyable enough, but when it all boils down, I wonder if they’re not simply biding their time until the next excuse for an escape. What a horrible way to live. I see people all around me falling into this funnel, watching their lives slip away in this vortex of social acceptance. They run around doing everything that you’re “supposed” to do as an adult, and never take the time to ask what it is that their hearts truly long for. I think that starbucks would look quite differently if more people were brave enough to follow the longings that God has put in their heart. I understand both ends of the spectrum, but it doesn’t really make sense at a deeper level. I realize that it’s important to make money and provide for a family, but where’s the lasting benefit to having some extra cash? Having a nicer house with plush leather furniture? Enjoying the newest roadster as you commute to and from a career that’s siphoning your soul? Is it really worth giving so much for all these things that have absolutely no consequence?

I went to see Donald Miller speak last night. It was rather endearing, and he was just as I expected him to be. Although, I must say, he was a bit older than I had realized. He wasn’t pushy with any of his thoughts, and didn’t attempt to win the crowd over with electricity and energy. He simply was himself, and that’s what I appreciated most. After briefly engaging the crowd, he talked about how making a movie about his life has brought him a new perspective on the business of living life. That the elements of a good life are quite similar to those of a good story, while a boring story makes for a boring life. He shared some personal experiences through which he had learned the anatomy of a good story, concluding that a good story involves, “a character who wants something and overcomes conflict to get it.” Movies in which the main character seems selfish and/or doesn’t have a clear idea of what he wants are the movies that end up completely sucking. “If you watched a movie about a guy who wanted a Volvo and worked for years to get it,” he said, “you wouldn’t cry at the end when he drove off the lot, testing the windshield wipers. You wouldn’t tell your friends you saw a beautiful movie or go home and put a record on to think about the story you’d seen. …Nobody cries at the end of a movie about a guy who wants a Volvo.”

So what about your life? What story are you telling? (by the way, stories only unfold when actions are taken…not through positive attitudes toward the matter, or wishful thinking.)

At this point in my life I see myself on the verge of a crossroads. One direction has a neat, well-kept sign that says “American Dream: Comfort, Safety and Reasonable Enjoyment.” Right beside it, however, is a piece of plywood nailed to a wooden post with a small cross spray-painted on it, and the words, “Attention, strenuous hike, proceed with caution.” As much as I feel everything pushing me towards the first trail, toward the suits, sports cars and shiny shoes, I hope to heaven that I’m brave enough, and man enough, to take the strenuous hike. In my heart I want nothing more than the opportunity to do big things, to touch people’s lives and to show people Jesus. I don’t want to waste my life worried about my well-being, or stressing over my retirement fund. I want to do something with my life that’s actually worth something.  I want to be able, at the end of my life, to measure my wealth in the number of lives Jesus has touched through me, and not by some fleeting number in a bank account. I’m pretty sure God’s already promised that He’d take care of me…I suppose all I have left to do is see where He wants to take me.

The Language of God (so glad it’s not french.)

Today, so far, has been a relatively good day.  Classes were easy, and now I’m sitting in the Mac Lab at Thomas Cooper with some extra time on my hands.  I’ve been studying french for the past 30 minutes or so, and hated every minute of it.  French sucks, quite frankly.  It seems impossible to remember the right things to say at the right time, and I always get verb tenses and conjugations mixed up.  Even when I actually sit down with the the book and give it the old college try, I always end up losing interest and wondering if french fries and french toast taste better in France.  Sitting here though, after finishing today’s homework, I feel like I’ve got a little more insight into the situation.  French, for me, is so dang frustrating because I don’t understand the language.  Anything I know in French is simply a block of text that I’ve committed to memory.  Whenever situation:A arises, I give response:B…  If somebody rewords the cue, I get all bent out of shape, because they asked the dang question wrong.  I haven’t yet caught on to all the different words, yet, and what they mean individually.  I don’t quite feel comfortable piecing together different beginnings of sentences with other random verbs and nouns.  So, in the end, I just end up frustrated and bored and hating french’s guts.  It’s not until you truly get a grasp on the language and what’s going on with the different verb tenses, that everything starts to not suck.  Once you begin to understand the guidelines for verb conjugation, and the reasons why you have to say things a certain way, everything else seems to come into focus.

I think that’s actually rather insightful to how we experience God, and the “language of God,” if you will.  I think a lot of people get super irritated with following Jesus because they haven’t quite grasped the way He works. There’s so much frustration from continuous failures at “being a good Christian” that people end up losing interest and wandering off into other things. They put too much emphasis and effort into determining the exact point at which a certain action becomes “sin” and fail to realize the purpose of the “rule.” 

See, Jesus operates within a whole separate framework than we do, and just like French, his framework has certain key elements that are critical to understanding everything else.  Just like there aren’t really any happy feelings toward a foreign language without a general comprehension, there are seldom happy feelings toward Jesus without understanding the nature of his heart.  The key isn’t to frustrate yourself with the rules and guidelines, but rather see them and embrace them as helpful.  People get so worked up biblical restrictions on drinking or sex or whatever, and don’t realize Jesus’ heart behind all of it.  

“No, I created these things, I know how they’re supposed to work.  Doing things that way is only going to lead you to more hurt and frustration.  I love you. I don’t want that for you.  Trust me!”

Once you’re able to move past the ”dude, this sucks” mentality and begin to understand the reasoning and relational dynamic behind the nature of Jesus, then everything starts to make sense.  You start to see that Jesus is amazing, beyond anything you could’ve ever imagined.  And most of all, that he’s so unbelievably worth it.

Textbook Truth.

So I’m sitting here in the middle of studying for my Psychology Exam tomorrow, and Jesus hit me with some truth, so I figured I’d pass it along.  The test covers a bunch of material, but the current chapter I’m working on is one called “The Path to Commitment: Attraction, Dating and Partnering.”  It’s basically about how people interact with one another socially, and the psychology of the whole mess we like to call dating.  There are tons of models that I’ve been going over, but the “Surra & Hughes Theory” stole my attention more than the rest.  It states basically that,

“Relationships are either: 1.) Relationally driven – partners grow in their commitment as they sort out their mutual preferences, values, goals and roles. Or 2.) Event driven – partners swing back and forth between commitment and ambivalence, often quite dramatically”

This, for me, is so very insightful into relationshp with Jesus.  Yes, the book is talking about human relationship with each other, but I think people just as much transpose this model onto God.  Think about it.  There’s definitely a difference between people who claim Christ that are relationally-driven versus people who are event-driven.  Those whose relationships are relationally-driven don’t get worried about things that go wrong and off days, because at the end of the day, there isn’t any change in the amount of love and commitment from God.  On the other hand, however, people whose relationships are event-based have a much harder time with things.  These people often tend to be the ones stuck in religion, trying to make sure everything is right all the time.  If they don’t consitently feel a “spiritual high,” then they feel like the relationship is about to tank.  (which is a ridiculous notion when regarding Jesus, but that’s another subject for another time.)  The thing is, I see this so often in myself.  I struggle so bad with allowing my relationship with Jesus to be dictated by events and feelings.  If good events and good feelings happen, then I feel that God’s got my back and I can take on the world, but at the same time if bad feelings and bad days happen, I end up feeling like the relationship’s faceplanted.  After spending this morning studying psychological models, though, I think I’m gaining reassurance in the fact that God’s very relational, and definitely not event-driven.  I mean, “duh,” but it’s certainly one thing to know something cognitively, and an entirely separate thing for your heart to accept it.  It’s good to be reminded and challenged on a soul-level that the whole point of everything is a relationally-driven encounter with God in which we “grow in commitment as they sort out their mutual preferences, values, goals and roles.”  That no matter what happens, nothing’s going to change, and that the relationship is just as strong, and just as meaningful as it was yesterday. Think about it like the country song “I Thought I Loved You Then” by Brad Paisley.  I think the heart behind that song is a rough portrayal of how relationship with Jesus looks. 

I just think it’s funny, sometimes, how much God is in everything.  That I could learn about his incomprable love though the pages of a college textbook.  That He could teach me about life, and father me through the most unexpected sources.  He’s pretty amazing.  If you don’t know him, you should give him a try.

Interstate Dating.

Lately I’ve been thinking a bit about dating and relationships.  I’m not exactly sure what started it all, honestly.  It’s probably a combination of the college fall retreat last weekend (which discussed extensively what it looks like to have relationships that are healthy and God-honoring) or the fact that like eight people I know got engaged within the past month or so.  In any sense, I’ve been thinking about it.

It’s been killing me, honestly, because I’ve been trying to figure out what practically it would look like to pursue a girl meaningfully, and still not waiver in pursuit of Jesus.  Maybe that’s an easy question, but it’s something I’ve been thinking a lot about.  I guess it’s tricky for me to grasp because I’ve seldom seen it done the right way.  Everything I’ve learned about girls and how to date has come more or less from high school, the internet and chick-flicks.  From what I could gather, romantic interaction with girls was supposed to be a give and take of coyness and sarcasm that always left the other person feeling a little offended but secretly wanting to makeout in the pouring rain.  You never stated your true intentions in the encounter, partially because most times there really wasn’t one, but more importantly because it was a cop-out, admitting defeat.  If, in all of this, you managed to find a girl that you enjoyed being around, you would cling to her like the squirrel on ice age clings to his acorn.  A huge portion of your idenity came from this person, and you tended to hope that they would always be there for you, no matter what.  So naturally, you were devastated at the end of the relationship because you had put all your eggs in that basket.  After two months of unshakable love, it was over.

Of course, getting older hasn’t made it much better.  There’s still that inclination toward giddy, puppy love, and wanting to just have that feeling of identity and security that comes with being in a relationship.  I’ve found out the hard way, that that’s a horrible reason to be in a relationship.  Because when the focus is mainly on this other person, it’s extremely hard to be captivated by Jesus.  He almost always ends up getting pushed off to the side.  So, the dilemma I’ve been struggling with, is how to pursue a girl and be in a relationship without sacrificing my intimacy with Jesus.  I was talking to my mom about it last night because one, she’s married, and two, because she’s has a way of being very wise and very practical at the same time.

“I guess I just feel like these two relationships are mutually exclusive…that you can’t have two intimate, deep relationships at a time” I told her.  “Just the same as you can’t drive two cars at the same time.  I mean, you certainly can have two different cars, but there’s always the one that you count on more than the other.”

“Well, I see what you’re saying,” she said, “but I think it’s more like a highway.  I think the key isn’t to be able to balance between the two, but rather, to find a girl that is headed your same direction, and merge onto the highway alongside her.  In the end you guys are both driving toward the same place, but in the meantime you get to hang out together and build a companionship.”

For whatever reason, that just made a whole lot of sense.  I mean, I’ve heard that I was supposed to date and marry a christian girl since I knew what dating was, but I guess I never really thought about the logistics of it.  I dunno, maybe my brain is just weird, and maybe I just think too hard about things that don’t require that much thought, but either way I think I have a grasp on it now.  Drive toward Jesus, enjoy the trip.  If you happen to meet someone whose personality clicks with yours, and they’re headed the same direction, then enjoy the trip together.  Keep each other company, and focused on driving.