Apparently you have to leave your apartment to get involved in people's lives.
I'm not always so good at that.

Saturday I sent Erin a text saying I wasn't going to meet them to carpool to the wedding. I told her that I was getting good at talking myself out of these things.

"Just because you're good at talking yourself out of things doesn't mean you should. And there will always be things that need to get done," was her reply.

Ouch.

I've gotten good at being a recluse lately, and I can only blame part of it on the narcolepsy.* I can point out the problems with programs, but what am I doing?

Fear, baggage, bitterness...its easy to hide behind these walls. Its comfortable inside, just me and Jesus. But if I'm not loving others, its crap. "Our doings don't define us, they reveal what is true about us."

The truth about me isn't pretty, but grace...




*yeah, we'll just call it that.

Miscellaneous Monday Medley

Weekend goodies:




random lumber + paint = fun times





This one is still a work in progress. I can't decide if I want to add something else, a border maybe? Something texturey an monochromatic I think. . . Its a present for Miss Ellie. Maybe she'll give me Frank in return.

Doubt it.



I think figuring out if and how I can do something is half the fun for me in artsyness. I love the macgyver aspect of it. Once the hard part is over I lose interest and distract myself with something else. Perhaps this is why I have so many unfinished projects lying around, and why things like this are not uncommon:






I called my mom last night to ask if I could steal a clothes drying rack and we ended up talking for half an hour at least. Those are the good times. She said "throwback" and I giggled. My dad got picked up in a squad car last night, and he's way too proud of that. Apparently he's taking some kind of "police school" class at SEARK. I'm sure I'll hear all about it in this week's letter.



I spent most of last night clutching a heating pad to my head. It hasn't hurt that badly in a long time, possibly ever. At one point I was picturing myself calling for help through the floorboards, I believe there were tears involved, and I'm not sure that I fell asleep or just eventually passed out from the pain. But alas, it is Monday morning and all is well (as "well" as things ever are).

Love isn't how you feel. It's what you do.
-Madeleine L'Engle


Il faut plus d'amour dans le monde.


Life begins at the intersections.
-Jon Foreman

This week's music recommendations:
I am a Pirate, You are a Princess, PlayRadioPlay!
Gazing, Future of Forestry

Throwback tune of the week:
The Wonderful Cross, Phillips, Craig & Dean
(Don't knock it. I put it on my playlist Saturday then we sang it last night at church, so it more than qualifies.)


Coming soon: "How I got called out in a text message" and making a decision by refusing to decide.

Bunnies are fluffy

In case you were wondering: yes, it was fantastic. I wasn't feeling well and incredibly grumpy, but a little TRS makes everything better. Boys with nice cheekbones don't hurt either.

He played Brat Pack, which made me happy, cause I love these lines:

So I'll run away to the hopes that I have
But still I fall asleep in the arms of my past
And when I wake so helpless and thinking of that
I just lay back down

I have a confession: I'm addicted to books. I can't quit buying them, but I don't have time to read all that I buy. I got three more in Missouri, which puts my library somewhere in the 290s I believe. Ridiculous. But Walking on Water just came in the mail, so I may find a sunny spot in a park after work and have a little Madeleine party.


I need a new bike (well, you know, "need"). My gears have been fixed but still not-so-much. If I'm not careful I end up looking like the Wicked Witch of the West with my feet spinning insanely fast. A white girl riding in the ghetto attracts enough attention, I'd rather not have another reason to be stared at.

I want to say I'll never do it again, but I can't. . .

One thing my parents tried to teach me without really spelling it out was the idea that just because your income increases does not mean your standard of living has to.

This is hard. And I haven't really understood it, or wanted to, until recently.

Moving from my nice little sheltered apartment at Brightwaters to my current place (in the ghetto) allowed me to cut my rent by like 44% (maybe...I'm not so great at math, but nearly half). I knew I was giving up a lot of "luxuries," like a washer and dryer, dishwasher, etc. But there were a lot of changes I didn't expect, things I took for granted like drains that don't clog and toilets that don't sound like a jackhammer when flushed, not to mention Squirrelgate 2008...

But honestly, I love it. There are many reason, but for one, I've got multiple daily reminders that I'm not a princess, and I've learned just how self-sufficient I can be and how much I can do without.

'Tis the gift to be simple,
'tis the gift to be free,
'tis the gift to come down where you ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
It will be in the valley of love and delight.
-Shaker Song

But then I start to have a little extra money, and I think "Hey, I could buy a couch." And I could, a very cheap couch, but I could make it work. But with this couch, would I become a better person? No, probably not. I'd still be selfish with my time and space, I wouldn't become more hospitable.

Some things I don't understand:

• Paying more than $30 for a haircut (ok so I accidentally paid $50 once, but I was misinformed about how much it was going to be)
• $100 jeans
• $100 shoes
• Owning lots of expensive jewelry (wedding bands excluded, but those can get a little out-of-control too)

But then again, other people probably think I'm ridiculous for putting so much of my money into books and art supplies.

This has been and probably will always be an area that I need to improve on, but I think I can say that I'm at least moving in the right direction.

I sometimes wonder if I'm moving toward this on my own, rather than with my "community."
Materialism discussed in our lesson from Luke 6 last night, and I agree with everything that was said. I took it as both an encouragement and a challenge to live more simply. Even though I'm already focusing on this issue, I need reminders like this to sustain or revive that focus.

H o w e v e r . . . I feel like as a community there's a bit of tension between where we want our hearts to go and what we're doing to get there. The lesson ends, we sing a song, then listen to announcements about a retreat/weekend/thing that will cost $100, and some sort of event involving formal-wear, which definitely isn't cheap. . .

Granted, I don't know everything behind the scenes, and I don't really know the demographics of who we're trying to involve and reach out to. People with money need love and Jesus too, so on one hand, things like this make sense. And I recognize that most of what we've done in the past has been free, and I'm grateful for that. Last night was just a little ironic to me.


Today I met a man named Ricky. One moment we're talking about where he could buy a dresser for his daughter, the next minute we're talking about ministry. Random, but good. He told me about some things his church does, like going around town and picking up homeless men and women, taking them back to the church, giving them a meal, sometimes a haircut, playing games, and just hanging out. Thats love.

He asked me about my church, what I was involved in there. . .
"Um, well, uh...we've worked with Our House, and I've done some stuff at the Compassion Center..."

I wish I had more to tell him.
Sure, we've got people doing this and that, but it all seems to be tied to one or two individuals that are already doing something. I'd love to have something that we say, as a community, "We're doing this. This is where we're going to pour our energy, time, money, love, etc... And we're going to keep doing it, not just one weekend or a day here and there."

But, this is no excuse for my own personal need to get off my bum and live the love I claim to have.Oh but grace...


Bryce Avary says it well:

Turn, look, look out and see
Do you see me?
Because I think I see you.
I've been some other place
The wind that I chase, it all just leads back to you.
Oh how I'm still, so still, it's sobering, but still I ran.
I knew you when I was young
But where am I now that I'm a man?

Run to you, I will run, I will run.
I will move right on through
All of these things that I have done.
And you'll take me back, I don't know why.
I want to say I'll never do it again,
But I can't, but I will try.

Turn, look, look out and see
Do you see me?
Because I think I see you.
I've been some other place
The wind that I chase, it all just leads back to you.
Oh how I miss what you miss, but I will fall time and again.
And I will say that I'm true to you,
But I'm a cheat. I don't understand.

So I'll run to you, I will run, I will run.
I will move right on through
All of these things that I have done.
And you'll take me back, I don't know why.
I want to say I'll never do it again, but I can't
I want to say I'll never do it again, but I can't
I want to say I'll never do it again, but I can't
But I will try.
(Run to You, The Rocket Summer)

"Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.)" -WW

A couple weeks ago I wrote a little about being strong-willed, so I had to laugh when I heard the illustration used in this message from Status. . .I highly recommend listen to the whole thing, but because you all think you're just so busy I'll let you cheat: skip to about the 24th minute.

I really didn't realize where the message was going at the time, but when I finished listening to it I was exhausted. They began with the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand, focusing on the disciples role and reaction to the situation, then specifically at the significance of the little boy with the bread and fish and how our attitude is vastly different than his. His willingness to give up what he had (all that he had?) to be used by Jesus is not often reflected in our lives. We are so self-focused, its about my wants, my needs, my problems, my accomplishments, my, my, my. . .

But, to say it Colson-style, how now shall we live?
Selflessly. Humbly. Thoughtfully and caringly.

Don't believe me? Ask the dishes!*

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death—
even death on a cross!

(Philippians 3:4-8)

For quite awhile I remember supporting the idea that you shouldn't "date the church." I did a little Nancy Drew-ing and figured out that the phrase more-or-less came from Joshua Harris' book Stop Dating the Church. Apparently this guy is against dating anything, girls, churches, etc. . . I wonder how he feels about carbon. . .? But I digress. I haven't read the book, but I believe the general idea is that we are not supposed to choose a church as a consumer. The phrase "don't date the church" has been rolling around in my head for a few weeks now, and the timeliness of Status' message is once again so odd (and yes, by "odd" I do mean "God").

In its plainest form, the lesson is not to ask what your church can give or do for you, but rather what can you offer to and through your church. It looks so pretty as words, but real life has a way of making everything a bit more complicated.

Right now(ish) I need to make a decision, then I need to commit to it, wholeheartedly.

• One choice means people with similar mindsets and passions, but possibly no opportunities to use specific parts of my story to minister, which is something I know I need to do.
• The other choice means accepting dissonance between my perspective and theirs, and having little support for causes that are dear to my heart, but possibly having a way to minister through sharing my story.

Quoi? Qui? Comment? Moi aussi. . .

Is it selfish of me to want to surround myself with people who aren't settling, who say "I don't know" but are seeking, who challenge and inspire me, who are brave enough to call me on my junk, who love me despite this junk?
Is it fair to be disappointed that I currently can't find this?
How can I be the catalyst? Am I brave enough to live what I know is true and what I seek to find in others?
*insert I Have Decided (verse 3) here*

I had hoped to find some answers on my little Waldening weekend (ok, I cheated and stayed in a hotel), but I think I came home with more questions than answers.



I'll leave you with one last Status quote, to me it is both relieving and incredibly challenging:

It doesn't take you and me doing "great things" for the kingdom. It doesn't take you standing on a platform and speaking to people. It doesn't take you being able to play music. It takes me and it takes you becoming less and less centered around ourselves and thats when God's kingdom comes.

If I were a gamblin' woman, (which I am not, because (a) I'm poor, and (2) I'm poor) I'd bet that this makes very little sense to anyone, including whatever side of me wakes up and rereads it tomorrow morning.














* And by "dishes" I mean "scriptures," but who doesn't love Lumiere?

I begin paragraphs in odd places (and other confessions)

For the record, I do not consider myself athletic, or even in shape, and I'm pretty sure no one else has ever thought to classify me as such either. B u t . . . I've always considered myself strong, kind of unexplainably so. I used to pride myself on being able to do physical acts on my own, i,.e., moving furniture and other heavy things, contorting myself into awkward positions in order to drill at a good angle, sawing random wood scraps into usable sizes, walking abnormal places/distances, etc. . .

I supposed a good part of it was sheer will. Will that grew out of pride, out of wanting to prove myself. And doomed was the person who got in the way. The secret to convincing me to do something was (is?) telling me I can't, or that you won't let me.

Why was/is my independence and strength so important to me? At what point did I start to believe that that's where I found my identity?
Actually, I think I know the answer to that: when I could no longer find my identity in my academic achievements. I like to laugh and tell people I peeked in high school. In a manner of speaking that's true. I became salutatorian without really trying, I was voted "most scholastic" or something, I had great test scores, I was the one my friends called for homework help. . . Then came college and a serious wake-up call rivaled only by an icy Indonesian shower. I was no longer the best, I wasn't even average most of the time. My idea of who I was got totally wrecked, and it took awhile to reform it.

Unfortunately, I didn't rebuild on the Rock. I, like the foolish man, chose the sands of self-sufficiency.

Over the past four or five months I've been wrecked again. These abilities I've wrapped my identity around have mostly been taken away. The specifics as to how and why are not important, but this new journey I'm on is. A few weeks ago I listened to David Miller's message at Status and, oddly enough, he talked about finding our identity in God. "We are who God says and thats it." Simple enough, eh? Not for me. Even as I'm losing who I thought I was, I can see myself grasping for other things, inadequate things, like art. Creating things is huge to me, it's something God put inside me, but it is not who I am. Some days I lose sight of why I paint and my self esteem crashes. I see what I've made and compare it to what I see in the galleries and I start to feel worthless. It'll never match up, but thats not the purpose. Creating is one way I connect with God. If I lose sight of its true purpose and make it my source of worth, I will ruin yet another thing God has placed in me for my good and His glory. (fyi, this is why I think its sometimes bunk when people refuse to do things simply because they aren't good at them. If you enjoy it-do it.)

Honestly, I have no idea who I am. I don't even know why I need to know, but for some reason I do. My hope is that as I learn more about this "God-man" (as they say), I will have a clearer picture of myself and who I am to be, but even more that that I hope to lose interest in anything that is me in favor of all that is God.

This post took an odd turn somewhere. I intended to write more about my recent frustrations with being unable to do things the way I once could. This was most evident last Saturday when we did some post-tornado clean-up. After working a shamefully short amount of time I was spent. I felt lazy and disappointed in myself, which is kinda the norm lately, but this time it was public. On one hand I was embarrassed for not having the endurance or strength to work harder/longer, and on the other I felt like I let people down. Another lesson I'm learning (slowly) is to let God alone define failure. I spend way to much time and energy trying to please other people. We are not called to succeed, we are called to obey. God will handle the results. So, in a way, obedience is success. . .

Oy, so many thoughts.

Grace, and grace?

So there's God's grace (as in the amazing kind), but then there's the grace I don't have, as in the ability to walk without knocking things over (and by things I mean tables, people, myself...)

How'd we end up with the same word? Am I the only one not seeing much of a connection?
Maybe because I don't really comprehend either one. . .


I like to tell people my middle name is Grace. Kinda like I tell people Kathy's cat's name is Snickers.

I should sleep more, but the trash man comes at 1am.

I miss the suities. . .dance parties, thoughts from the pot, thrilla in the shower. . .

I mainly want someone to tell me I'm right & then pay me, she said. Is that too much to ask? & I said as long as you're living in a dream world, you might as well make it work for you.

If you're not reading this, shame on you...

I give you: Stuff Christians Like

Seriously, you're missing out. This is laugh-out-loud-in-your-cubicle-at-work funny. Good luck awkwardly trying to mask the chuckles as coughs...

Here are a few of my favorites:


I dedicate this to the fabulous church ladies that continuously chose flavoraid over koolaid:

#5. Bootleg cookies.

If you ever went to Vacation Bible School then you know exactly what I'm talking about. For some reason, Christians love finding ways to save money on cookies. That's why instead of Oreos you always had to eat "chocolate sandwiches" or some other cookie with a generic sounding name. And they aren't the same. I know they told you that "jungle crackers" were the same as "animal crackers" but you knew the difference, you knew.

#14. Dating God instead of me.

One of the things that Christians at my college liked to say if they didn't want to date you was, "I'm not dating anyone right now, I'm dating God." So the guy, who really just wanted to play mini golf or have a bowl of pasta at the Olive Garden, has to find a way to get you to break up with God. That's a tough assignment but I think it reflects something we like even more, which is bringing God into situations he might not be that concerned with. Granted, he should be infused in every part of your life, but before that guy asked you out, did the Alpha and Omega really say to you, "By all means, do not eat a bottomless salad with Mark Robinson. I have spoken."

Sometimes we like to use God to get out of stuff, like bad dates, just like I use my kids to get out of going to boring parties, e.g. "I'd love to go to your baby shower, but I couldn't get a babysitter. It's a shame, a dang shame."

#17. Unspoken Prayer Requests

I just wrote about this one on one of my other blogs, 97secondswithgod.com but it was too tempting to pass up. If you've never heard an "unspoken prayer request" then let me enlighten you. This is when someone has done something they don't want to share and instead of just swallowing it until they are able to share the specific incident they say they have an "unspoken prayer request." If you're being honest and intimate with a group of people it seems silly, but if you're in mixed company and feel shy about telling girls your junk I can see why you might use this method. Then again, maybe the bigger issue is why you're telling girls your junk in the first place. Girls, get some girls you can be real with. Guys, get some guys you can be real with.

P.S. Whenever I hear someone ask for an unspoken prayer request I think in my head, "that dude is having an affair, he laundered money, he is making meth in his basement or he is doing all of the above." That's why it's usually better to just be upfront.








This one goes out to Big Danny, for not pretending John Mayer's music is about God, but rockin it out anyway:

#26. Songs that sound Christian but aren't.

I'm really guilty of this one. Whenever I get tired of Christian music, I just listen to secular radio and imagine that the artist singing is not talking about his girlfriend in a song, he's talking about God. Try it sometime, for the most part it works. And any "I need to find myself" kind of song is perfect too. Colin Hay's, "Waiting for my real life to begin" is a beautiful picture of a conversation with God. Only it's probably about something he said to his wife or just the inner dialogue of his head. Sometimes though, doing this can create some awkward situations. One Sunday, my wife and I were at church waiting for it to begin when they played a song over the speakers by the band, Our Lady Peace. They're not a Christian band, but their song, "Somewhere Out There" kind of sounds like a God song. I mean this part does:

Down here in the atmosphere, Garbage and city lights, You gotta save your tired soul, You gotta save our lives.

But then, in the middle of church, with thousands of other people, I hear the singer say this:

Hope you remember me, When youre homesick and need a change. I miss your purple hair,

OK, I think to myself, that's a little weird. I'm not sure Jesus had purple hair but you know, when the sun is setting just right over the Dead Sea maybe it was kind of purple. And then the next line comes in:

I miss the way you taste.

I had a hard time tying that directly to Jesus or God.








I dedicate this to the not-so-secret midnight society (and by "midnight" I mean "we're-cooler-than-you-because-we-do-dances"):

#29. Not dancing

Know what song my wife and I had our first dance to at our wedding? It was a little ditty I call, "I was unable to dance at my wedding because we had the reception at a church and the church was opposed to dancing." The title's a little long, but I promise it has a really solid beat. Why is "not dancing" one of the things we like? I'm not sure because everyone knows that David was all about dancing and even did so in his underwear. I really hope I can remove this one from my list in the future because I think dancing can be a beautiful act of worship and it's silly to automatically be opposed to it. (Now if you're dancing to the song, "Da Dip" from back in the day, that's a different story.)

Could someone forward this one to John and Sherry Rivers?

#46. Super, happy shiny Christian radio.

Boy of boy, I get cavities when I listen to Christian radio in the morning it's so sweet and sugary. Not that I'm asking for negativity, but for some reason, we want our morning radio to be like a big hug from a teddy bear. Who is riding a pink unicorn with his friend the fuzzy wuzzy caterpillar, while licking one of those giant frisbie-sized lollipops. I think that Christian radio is the audio equivalent of that poster that has the cat hanging on a rope with the line, "Hang in there." And it doesn't have to be. I think that Christianity is a lot more interesting than we make it out to be. I think it's real and honest and beautiful and ugly. But when in one of our most popular mediums we sugarcoat it, we give the world a really weird reflection of what it means to be Christian. And that's just not cool.

#106. The side hug.

Yes, God wants us to be compassionate and kind and tender with each other. Not only that, but he wants us to love our enemies and serve our neighbors. As long as there is no body on body action. I'm talking of course about a "full frontal hug," one of those sinful abominations where you just wrap your arms around a friend and embrace them. That's why Christians the world over have pioneered the "side hug." In the side hug there's no risk of two crotches touching. Instead of face to face, you go side to side, putting your arm around the person and your hip against their's. Still having a hard time mastering it? Pretend you're taking a photo and you're both looking at the camera together. The side hug, or A frame as it is also called, is safe for the whole family, friendly and above all holy. I don't know the exact scripture reference but try the book of Psalms.








Let the truth be told:

#78. Using the Christian "F" Word

Sometimes, we Christians, worry that if we admit things are not going well in our lives you will assume that our God is not good. You will see our struggles as a reflection of who our Lord is. So instead of being honest, we will drop the Christian "F" word, which of course is, "Fine." Even though you can see on our faces that we were up all night arguing with our wives we will tell you "things are fine." How's the new project going? Fine. How's the family? Fine. How are things with your wife? Fine. The problem with that approach, in addition to being really dishonest, is that we're called to comfort people in the way we've been comforted. We're called to roll up our sleeves and show our scars to other people and be real about them. Jesus came to heal the sick and when we pretend we aren't, we're just lying. (My other site www.prodigaljohn.com is like a mistake parade based on the lessons I've learned.) Life doesn't have to be "fine." You are not failing if it isn't "fine." God is not less loving or powerful or great if you tell someone the truth. If anything, when you open up and are honest, you get to share how even in the midst of something sucktacular God is carrying you through those times.





And finally, this is for my Ellen:

#110. Donald Miller

Whenever I sit down to write, I silently and automatically think in my head, "WWDD?" By that I of course mean, "What would Donald Write?" There's a part of me that so loves his writing style that usually my first draft of anything is simply the "Donald Miller" draft. But it's fake, not because he is, but because what I've written is not the truth but rather what I think a Christian author should say. And so what I write sounds really holy and Godly but is actually a pack of loosely packed lies. But Donald Miller is great.

And I think he's great because he's honest. He was one of the first Christian authors for me that really seemed to share his scars, to roll up his sleeves and expose his bruises. Whether that was about his absent father or his dreams to move some where that had more "green places" on a map. He writes like a friend talking to a close friend, not like a Christian on a platform sharing wisdom. And he's a really nice guy. My parents are friends with him. Before "Blue Like Jazz" exploded and he moved on up like the Jeffersons, beans don't fry in the kitchen, he stayed at my parents' house for about a week writing. I spoke with him once on the phone, a story that I have admittedly tried to make more out of in the hopes that other Christians that like him will in turn like me. He was kind and encouraging and told me my background in writing advertising would serve me well when it came to writing books and inside the cover of the issue of Blue Like Jazz he gave me, he wrote, "I can't tell you how much I love your parents and home." And that was a really cool, unnecessary thing for a guy about to sell a million books to say.

So I heart Donald Miller.