It's was all about the fantasy...

I'm currently sitting in my parents living room with my brother and Billy Carroll. All 3 of us have our laptops open, pouring over the latest projections, picks, pans, and injury reports.

It's fantasy football time baby.

Last year I got off to a screaming start, drafted the best receiver in the league and then dropped him 2 days before week on after reading a bogus injury report (Randy Moss' hammy was not, indeed, strained). I still managed to finish second in the league.

This year the tensions are just as high. So many questions? Is Peyton's knee REALLY healed? Will Adrian Peterson hold up to being the Viking's number one running back all season? Should I take a tight end in the 3rd round, or wait until the 5th? These are the really important things that one must consider.

So in 13 minutes, the game is on. Are you ready for some football?

Mom's Favorite

I can't stop laughing. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it.

And the hits just kept on coming...

Poor Natalie hasn't been out of bed all day. Last night at 1:00 (that A.M. for you morning people like me) she woke up not feeling well at all. She need Pepcid, stat. Like a fireman springing at the rescue bell, I lept to the call of duty.

It was actually less leaping and more dragging. I wish I was better and more supportive at stuff like that, but I was groggy and probably pretty cranky. At the bottom of my heart I was glad for the opportunity to do something for her. I felt for her, but the strange commiseration of walking through a difficult time together can draw forth frustration as well as solidarity. I wanted this whole season to be over, and I certainly didn't want chapter 18 of our recent saga to begin in her at 1:00 in the morning!

Still, this morning she wasn't well. As if being pregnant isn't hard enough (not that I'd understand, of course) she now is pregnant AND sick in her stomach. If I wasn't laughing I'd be crying, and if I wasn't crying I'd be laughing.

It's times like this though that bring a person's world view into crystal clarity. It highlights how quickly I am reduced to doubt. It reveals whether I try to stifle those doubts or search for an answer that is acceptable. It uncovers whether or not I am able to walk the tight-wire of accepting suffering and pain on earth AND the goodness and sovereignty of God. Most of all, maybe it indicates how quickly I am able to get outside of myself, beyond the here and now, and realize that there is a greater cosmic picture than I regularly walk in.

I think about my friends who are, or are becoming, foster parents and how they are going to rescue a child who right now may not have access to medicine, but sadder still doesn't have access to a parent who is able or willing to procure the medicine. The greater cosmic reality is that I'm a pretty lucky guy. It doesn't diminish the stress of the past few weeks. I don't think God works that way. I think my fears and doubts and struggles are real. I just think that when they are viewed and processed well, they have the unique ability to either drive me further into myself and closer to self-destruction, or they can draw me out of myself and open my eyes to both my blessings and the sufferings around me.

I think I'm finally able, for the most part, to be thankful for the amazing run of circumstances in the past few weeks. Not all the situations are fully resolved. I'd still like to sell my van to sock a few extra bucks away for when baby Reagan comes. I'd still like to have my family well. But the greater reality is, again, that God is here. He's working and fixing, and He knows my name well enough to bring me through even this in a way that really brings glory to Him.

That's a great thought.

Bullets & Projectiles

I used to read many more blogs than I do now, and back then, I always loved people who were expert users of the bullet point. It seemed like a style that would work well for me since I'm sort of all over the map in my brain. The problem is that I write A LOT, so 10 page bullet points don't accomplish the same thing. None the less, here's my attempt at the bulletted blog post...

• In reading Natalie's documentation of the past 10 days, I remember being drawn to the thought that God is here with me. When Jack is sick, God is here with us. We're not alone. It's much less scary when you're not alone.


• Friday night will be just me and Jack. No firm details yet, but I feel certain that it will involve beef and fire. Probably Television. And a sippy cup. For Jack.


• We're going to have a baby in 5 weeks. It will want to live with us for approximately 18 years. It will also want to eat food and wear clothes. I will be primarily responsible for providing such accoutrements.


• My ear infection is all better. Antibiotics are good stuff.

Alright. That's all I've got. By way of confession, I'm disappointed with the way my first bullet point blog worked out. Perhaps better luck next time.

Otitis externa...

Or, more commonly, outer ear infection.

See, I have this thing. I think Q-tipping is just about the best thing in the universe. Just after a steaming hot shower, get out and swab the ear canal... glorious.

Turns out that it's bad for you (how could something SO right, turn out to be SO wrong?). All that ear wax serves a purpose... it keeps the water from gathering and infecting. So, two months ago I could feel it coming on for about a week. Each day, quietly, steadily, little by little the hot fire poker of aural death made its way to what must be an extremely important place, to be so sensitive.

Antibiotic drops and a benzocane drop should do the trick.

The problem... I only did the antibiotic for 2 days instead of 5.

Fastforward to last Friday, the familar warm heating pressure shows up. Quietly at first, only letting me know it was around. In response I picked up the neglected antibiotic and started my regimen again. I was too late. This morning it was as if steaming Kamikaze pilots of doom flew one by one into my tender little ear canals and exploded microbombs of ear death in the side of my face.

The doctor was little help. "You have an ear infection. Usually babies get those."

"What are you saying doc? Are you calling me a baby? I'll take you down right here and now if I have to."

But alas, it seems that there's no insta-cure for the ear infection. So what did I learn?

1. That which feels the best is not always the best. The implications and applications are endlessly endless.


2. Medicine knows what it's talking about. When it says 5 days, use it for 5 days.


3. Ear infections suck. That's all I have to say about that.

So I'm going to tough it out and pray that the antibiotics work fast. I'm hoping and praying that I'll handle this with grace and dignity. Most of all, I'm hoping this never happens again.

Dear God...

How are you doing? This has been a pretty tough week. I don't think I've really handled all my stuff very well. I'm sorry about that. You know my freak out tendency is pretty high, and it seems like I've lived there for about a month-and-a-half now.

I keep coming back to the sovereignty thing, and generally it's a help. Too many times I don't get there quick enough, though. Like today when Jack got sick and had to go to the doctor. Eventually I remembered that you love him too, and you're the only one who can really take care of him. Then there's the money piece. All that stuff really had to hit at once? Couldn't it have been spread out a little bit? Or not happened at all? Especially that one. We did everything right, we turned the machine in and still had to pay for it. Isn't that injustice?

But you're God. And right now I need to see you that way. I need to believe that you're bigger than doctors diagnoses or financial projections. You're even bigger than that bottom line on my bank statement. You'e Immanuel, God with us. You're very near, very close, and you care about me. You want me to hear your voice. You want me to know that you're involved. I get locked up in thinking that always means you want me to know exactly what you're doing. Right now I guess you just want me to know you're doing something, and be OK with that.

I need you to promise me that it'll all be alright. That doesn't mean it has to be just like I want it or like I envision it, but I need to know from you that it'll be alright. Whatever that means, it will be alright, won't it?

I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. Help me get here sooner. You're doing a good job. I'm grateful. Forgive me when I'm not. Oh, and can you please open up Jackson's airways? He's such a trooper. Let him know you're with him too.

I love you. I don't do it very well sometimes, but I love you. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for letting me be a spoiled kid sometimes.

For you Jesus,

Amen

It's Up to YOU!

In less than 2 months, we'll have another baby.

That baby will need a name.

Nat & I have come up with a couple of names that we like, and we've decided to give YOU, the voting public, the right to choose. You'll notice the poll to the right. Vote for the name that you like by September 15th and the winning name will stick.

You can be a part of history. Get out and rock the vote. Send everyone you know. Get the word out.

God said to me...

There was a day when I was much more ready, willing, and able to say, "God Spoke." Part of my new found hesitancy comes because I would read in the Bible about people who "spoke" for God when God didn't really speak at all. That's not God's favorite thing in the world.

Not to mention, there have been times when I've really felt like I heard God speak something, only to have it not happen. I hate that because it further reveals that the difference between God and I is really quite large. He graciously comes to be near to us, but on my best day it's an art rather than a science.

I have the opportunity to take a trip to the other side of the world, and I really want to hear God's voice. First, I don't want to miss something outstanding simply because I'm nervous or afraid. On the other hand, I don't want to travel half way around the world and leave a new wife and baby at home simply because I want to travel around the world.

So how do I discern between the voice of the Lord and the sounds of my own inner workings. A wise and trusted friend asked the question, "How has God spoken to you in the past?" That's a wonderful question, which leads into many of the same doubts that I mentioned earlier.

This is where I wish i had done a better job at cultivating the habit of humility. That's what I feel is most needed right now. My gut feels like I'm pressing, striving, borderline freaking out with the need and the desire to come to a decision. Humility says, "God's in control and He'll get me to where I need to go." Un-humility (pride, in biblical parlance) says that I have to figure it out. So here's my game plan.

1. Pray - That means me. I've been praying about it for awhile, but not in the focused way that I need to. It's been a passing thought, rather than a time of sitting and asking the Lord to give me His wisdom.


2. Be prayed for - I've asked a couple of people (and now I ask you) to pray for me. I don't know what they're praying, or how they're praying, but I trust that they love me and they are praying. That is such an encouragement to me, and makes me think that no matter what happens, it's all good.


3. Worship - At some point between now and tomorrow evening when I want to make my final decision, I'm going to take a walk and just enjoy what God has done all around me. I'm going to spend some time confessing the areas where I've turned away from God, and then I'm going to celebrate the grace He's poured out to me. I'm going to listen to some Chris Tomlin & Dave Crowder and enjoy the sounds of souls singing to the heavens.

I'm going ot make a decision, and in faith I'm going to believe that I've made the right one. I believe that God is good, so if I (in faith) make the "wrong" decision, God in His sovereignty will make that known.

So pray for me. Pray that the greatest miracle of all - participation in the leading of God - will happen to me. But whatever happens, as I pray am prayed for and worship... it'll all be good.

Monday God

It's the first Monday of the month, and I sat down this morning and jumped right in.

I did the same thing last month...

and the month before...

and before...

It's not that I don't think about the future, I think about it a lot. I just don't make plans around it. The Future arouses hope and fear alternately, and I will react to it for a day, but I haven't been very disciplined about harnessing the power of hope and dismantling the power of fear as it pertains to the future.

So when I sat down today, I found frustration at the unknown slinking it's way into my brain. How can I plan for tomorrow when I don't know what's coming today? How can I look forward and be prepared? Frustration gives way to discouragement, which gives way to fear, which gives way to hopelessness...

But I'm not a victim!

Then I remembered that I have a foundational belief that God is timeless. It's a tricky theological conundrum that's hard to wrap your brain around, but easy to see the implications.

God knows tomorrow. He's already there.

When I was younger (yesterday) I used to beg Him to tell me the future. "What are my kids going to look like? When will you give me the big check to pay off my student loans?" I was mildly perturbed when He wouldn't answer me. It seemed selfish that He would hog all that wonderful information and not share it with me. I promised not to do anything to change the future and thereby thwart his sovereignty, I just wanted to be able to plan. In my heart of hearts, I assured Him, I was ultimately altruistic and I wouldn't do anything like bet on the world series or pick the long shot at the Kentucky Derby, I just wanted to know what was coming so I could plan for it and not be surprised by the little hiccups along the way. I don't think it's too much to ask.

He didn't tell me who is going to win the Superbowl. Dangit.

As my faith grew up, I realized that there's not much fun in telling the future. As I watch my son grow, I have experienced the great thrill of watching him discover. When Jack sees something new, his eyes pop with wonder and his mouth stretches with glee. It's the greatest thing ever.

I forget that God is Father. He enjoys seeing me discover today. He also enjoys comforting me when I cry, when I scream out at the injustice in the world (mostly as it pertains to me), and when I crumble in a heap on the floor. He's there. He knew I would be there too.

He was there waiting for me the whole time.

So I want to make 1st Monday different. I want to sit quietly enough to acknowledge the fact that God can already see August 31st, and all the days before it. I'm probably still going to ask Him to tell me the future, but I'll be able to smile when He doesn't. I want to hear His ideas about what's coming. He may not tell me specifics, but I think he'll help me find a good path. He'll tell me whether I need to push forward or lay back, whether I need to have the hard conversation or just sit quietly. I think He can help me plan. I think He wants to help me plan. That's how Jesus could say to His disciples, "There's another place we have to go," when He seemed to be cresting the wave of popularity.

So rather than sitting & projecting my hopes onto the uncertain future, I'm going to spend some time this morning listening to what Father thinks is important. Believe it or don't, it takes a lot of faith to believe that God really cares about the nit picky details of my job. With all the stuff going on in the middle east, and the Olympics in China, and the fragile economy, it feels somewhat selfish to think that God would be invested in who I have lunch with this week or whether or not I go visit a small group next week.

But my God is pretty big. He's bigger than I give Him credit for. And I hear that He's very fond of me. ;-)

God was going 20 mph.

Nat and I were house sitting awhile back when I realized my shoes were at my house. Hopping in the car, expecting to jaunt home and back in plenty of time, I ran into suburban expansion. 30 minutes, 1 1/2 miles, and frazzled nerves later, I arrive at my house.

The reason: 2 elementary schools and 4 school zones. I shook my fist at inconvenience and begged God to let me move deep into the woods. Then I sensed a sweet whisper, "But who will tell all these people I love them?"

All of a sudden, the people who were slowing me up went from being obstructions, to families in need of hope. Instead of noticing traffic, I noticed young people who I could get to know and share with. I knew I couldn't leave. This was my community. I was wrecked.

But real community is messy. When people get into each other's lives, it chafes like cheap toilet paper because I have issues, baggage, hang ups, and "idiosyncrasies." So do you.

Real community is knowing the difference between "one of my moods" and something wrong and loving me through both of them (even when they both happen a lot). It's calling me on my moods, bearing my burden, and letting me bear yours. It's rubbing me the wrong way, and it's saving my life.

But it's most definitely not just "getting together."

And the greatest petri dish for growing community...

Frequent, spontaneous contact.

The more we're around each other, the more likely we'll become a community. It's not just about affinity when we realize something greater is going on and submit to the process. By having dinner together and shopping together and our kids play together and being willing to be real and commit to caring even when and especially when we disagree or are different... we're nurturing the raw materials of real community.

The challenge for me was to see the people right around me as my community too. It goes from meeting people at church to meeting people in my world. What if God wants me to reach out to the neighbor lady, or the couple across the street? What if He wants me to show her He loves her and that God and church is about imperfect, broken people learning to live and love God and each other inspite of our "idiosyncrasies?"

Lynn McCord asked, "What now?" That's up to you. Here are somethings I'm going to try...

1) Rally with those already around me. Does anyone from your church live near you? 5 couples who attend my church live within 1/2 mile of my house. Let's get together soon and get to know each other better.

2) Slay the dragon of individualism. I really don't need more "me" time. It's really no hassle to have someone to my house for dinner (if they don't expect spic-n-span). It's not the company I pull back from anyway, it's letting them see me and speak into my life when I need it. Point blank: to be who God wants me to be, I need other people. The Marlboro man died ruggedly alone.

3) Make the best of what's around. I'm going to walk around my neighborhood at least once a week and pray that I see what I need to see. What is that? I don't know. Maybe someone I can talk to. That's out of my comfort zone (see #2 above). But God loves them. I know it, and they may not. Whoever I meet, I'm going to take that as from God and look for ways to build a relationship with them, see what God's doing in their life, and let them see what God's doing in mine.

The key word in my life is PROACTIVE. After 31 years, the world hasn't beat down my door. I guess God wants me to get out and try to make a difference somewhere.

But I'm wearing a smock for when it starts to get messy!

Being the Church... and going to one too.

There's a guy I know who moved his whole family to New York for the express purpose of living intentional missional lives. He was a denominational leader in the denomination that my church is a part of, and he tells about how he and his wife just started feeling called to go live in New York city. It's really an amazing story, and you can check out what he's doing here.

In an e-mail exchange, he made reference to "being the church while attending one (sometimes)" and I really liked that. At River City, I'm unapologetically the "small group zealot." It really worked out that I get to go do that every day and get paid for it, because it's what I'd gladly do for nothing (but don't tell my boss). I was far away from God and the church when I discovered community and I realized the power it has - power to destroy if it's focused on something essentially life taking, power to restore if it's focused on something live giving - but power none the less.

The reason I liked his comments about being the church while going to one (which he may or may not have borrowed from George Barna's book Revolution) is because it fundamentally taps into a conviction that I haven't necessarily communicated as well as I wish. The "mechanism" for community at River City Community Church is small groups. The primary way people find their way into a small group is through attending a River City worship gathering or event... I wonder what would change if the direction of those arrows were reversed... what if a primary way people discovered a River City worship gathering was through a small group?

That's what really captures my imagination and makes my palms sweat...

• There are about 50 Life Groups (intentional discipleship small group) at RCCC.


• There are about 20 Activity Groups (less frequent, event related gatherings)


• There are atleast as many Service Groups (ministry specific communities).


• There are probably close to 700 people in groups at RCCC (guestimate).


• Each person in each group lives in a neighborhood.


• Each neighborhood represented is filled with people whose lives are falling apart or are simply wrestling with the reality of insignificance. There are those who are going through divorces, having affairs, abusing their children, and countless other activities that simply fall short of the abundance that God wants to offer.

What if 700 people got freaked out about their neighborhoods? Not the scared, go into isolation type of freaked out, but the standing on a hilltop weeping for the hurts below type of freaked out. What if small groups decided that it was intolerable that the people around them would live without the type of life-giving community while they gathered within ear-shot?

Bill Hybels wrote a book called Holy Discontent. It's not the kind of book that's going to bend your brain, but it is the kind of book that should inspire you to get off the couch and do something. The thing I realized as I read this book is that my Holy Discontent is two-fold, 1)people living in isolation, and 2) people who aren't living in isolation not caring about people who are.

So that's my rant for today. Go check out Jeff & Christina Getz's site, go pick up Barna's book or Hybel's book or better still, find a group of people that you can gather with on a regular basis who will make you better and who will ask you to make them better. When you find those people, pray for God to expand it, then go looking for who He's sending and invite them. When you do that, Church stops being a place and starts being a living breathing life giving thing, infused with the power and life of God Himself. Who could say no to that?

A River Ran Through It

The urban gave way to the pine forest at a spot called the grotto. In the distance the 10:00 mass echoed through the thickett. Just across the street, invisible from even the nearest edge were laundromat's and coffee shops and liquor stores vying for the time and attention of passers by and drivers through.

The grotto didn't cry out, unless you were listening for the silent spot among the roar. All along the path, the stations of the cross juxtaposed the sorrow and the joy that marked the life of Christ, going all the way back to his Annunciation. It was hard to imagine much sorrow walking through the Grotto.

There is a section there called "The Peace Garden," with a river/brook and several ponds intended to remind visitors of the waters of baptism, the sacred waters that cleanse us and symbolize the hope of forgiveness. So close to a flow like the Colombia River, I also thought of the one out of whom Christ would make flow Rivers of Living Water.

It was one of those moments with the air of eternity. The colors seemed more vivid, the air more crisp, the scents more alive than in other places. I've been lucky enough to encounter a few of those moments. Once when I was 12 in Washington D.C. Another in the Austrian Alps, and then today, sitting on a hewn wooden bench in the Peace Garden.

"...when Peace like a river attendeth my way... it is well with my soul..."

A rose (city) by any other name...

I flew into Portland yesterday on my expectations, it seems. I have been looking forward to this trip for a long time. In many ways I think it seemed like the payoff for all my years of pining away for the Pacific Northwest. It's almost like the final redemption of the story my life was in before. I don't think I could have handled leaving Portland 8 years ago. For every co-dependent needy reason you can think of, if I had come here and had to leave it would have been devastating.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking forward to leaving. I'm a big believer in "place" and "space" and "location" and there have been enough places and spaces and locations that just felt right the first time I encountereed them. I believe some heart places may even be intrinsic, drawing us from the heart even before we've ever been there. When we finally get to those places, it feels like a visit to a place from our early childhood. There almost seem to be memories in places we've never been and a familiarity on streets we've never walked.

I wonder if Heaven will be like that. I wonder if when we get there, it will seem like we've finally come back to the place we always should have been. I think heaven for me is going to be in one of the mountainous places, close to the ocean and pinned behind a mountain range so the moisture doesn't dissipate and the place stays green and temperate year round. I definitely think heaven will be like that.

Bullets don't kill people, puma's kill people. Always watch out for pumas.

There is a point of no-return for my blogging. I go so long without saying anything, that I get locked up trying to say everything that I haven't said since the last post. I'm such a brain-twisted animal, but I know who I am and I sleep good at night, so that's alright.



So here's the readers digest version, bullet pointed for easy reading (I'm in this for you!), of where I've been. Comment as you like, tell me what you think, help me stay on task. When you respond, it keeps me thinking. This is a symbiotic relationship here. You..... complete....... me. I know you're touched.

• I've been sick for over a week now. Nothing makes you appreciate health like sickness. Today I feel much better, and I think I'm going to stop by Whole Foods or Sun Harvest and check into the all natural supplementation. I've realized a few things... 1) I eat like crap all the time. 2) I NEVER take any sort of vitamin ever, under any circumstances. 3) I don't exercise. Well, I exercise slightly more often than I take vitamins. But only slightly. and 4) I don't go to bed early enough. All of that is a concoction for unhealth. Throw into the mix that I am now 6 months into my three oh's and I'm starting to think that it really may be time to start taking care of this old tent.

• Natalie and I are going to Portland on Friday. I've never been to the Pacific Northwest, but I've always wanted to. I've got this sneaking suspicion that somewhere up there may just be where my hearts home is. Natalie's worried that I won't come back. I assure here that I'm 74% positive that I'm going to come back to Texas atleast long enough to get all my things. It's funny that I have such a love for a place I've never been before. It's the remnant of the hippie ethic still living and breathing in my soul. Someone I know who used to be in Portland once said, "you can only look at pretty trees for so long." I'm not so sure.

• Life is good. I've been pretty aware lately of all the really cool things that are in my life. I think I have a tendency to be somewhat pessimistic. Maybe cynical is a better word. I have to admit lately though, I just have this sense that whatever comes, whatever happens, however it all shakes out, I've got it pretty good and I'm really thankful to God for what He's done and given me. I need to live in light of that and make it more of a habit to remember more often. Remembering is a discipline, but it's important. Vital even, to being the right kind of person.

• Friendships make the world go 'round. Not literally. That's centrifugal force (centripedal? any Physicists out there?). But along with the life is good thing, I realize that I've been given a great hands when it comes to the friends in my life. I don't get to see all of them as often as I should, but I appreciate that there's never a begrudging guilt trip or manipulation game when our paths finally do cross. We just pick up where we left off. My friends challenge me to dream big dreams, have big thoughts, and just generally want to be a big person... but the good kind of big. Not the fat kind of big that I'm increasingly finding a propensity toward. It wasn't always like this. Again, I attribute it to the three oh's.

• Here's an Interesting Christmas Idea. Go here and see what you think. I learned about it from reading this blog from a guy whose a pastor at the church who started this last year. What do you think? What would the implications be if ten's of thousands of Christians across America undertook a project like this (at the site, click on the "read more" link at the bottom, and that will open up a window which will then have a link to a .pdf file that gives more details and vision)? What would the implications be for YOU if you undertook something like this? Who would understand? Who wouldn't? How would they respond? How does that make you feel?

Overall, things are good. Thanks for being a part of what's going on in my life, even if we've never met and you just stumbled upon this blog for the first time today. I hope you've enjoyed your stay, and I hope you come back again. Find a way to get involved. Make a difference. Be engaged.

Beauty close by

Driving to my parents house from the west, you have to drive by this piece of property, probably 100 acres of undeveloped "ranch land." I put the quotes because I've never really seen more than 10 or 15 cows, and most of the property is in a flood plain. I don't know how useable it is for grazing or raising cows or sheep or other livestock, but that 100 acre plot is one of my favorite places in the world.

When my parents built their house in their suburban neighborhood 7 years ago, it was on the growing edge of northeast San Antonio. It was well within the city, accessible to major freeways and all of that, but still separate enough to feel like you weren't in the middle of town. Since then, the area has exploded with shopping centers and gas stations and more track housing than ought to be legal. Except for those 100 acres.

One corner of the property in particular will probably always be one of those memory sweet spots that lives forever in my mind. It's on a gentle rise, so it fills the horizon as you drive past it. Every spring the landscape progresses from blues to yellows to whites with little spots and speckles of reds and orange when the wildflowers bloom in succession. It seems like a piece of Montana, transplanted close by so that I can either stoke my longing for the wilderness or at least continue to believe that I'm a mountain man in my heart.

I'm grateful for the little reminders that even as things drive forward and grow skyward, there is still hope for open spaces and natural beauty. Someday the owner of that property will pass on, and that wonderful piece of property will pass into the hands of someone else. I hope they love it as much as I do. Or I hope that I have enough money to buy 100 acres of woods in the middle of suburban San Antonio.

Speaking the Truth in Love: rightness to the core

When Paul tells his Ephesian listeners that it's time to move from spiritual infancy to spiritual adulthood, he challenges them to the highest level of "rightness."

"Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ." Ephesians 4:15

By speaking the truth in love, we grow up. By not speaking the truth in love, we don't grow up. It's easy for me to see the truth. I'm just wired that way. I can smell the crap a mile away and cut through it quickly. I struggle with the love part. Not the friendship or the respect, but the kind of love that softens the sharpness of tone that the truth can sometimes wield. The truth hurts because usually the time someone needs to hear truth the most is when they're living blindly oblivious to it.

After our small group tonight I had to have a hard conversation with a couple that I've known for almost 2 years. The guy called the church one day and got me on the phone and we talked for over an hour about the hard times he was facing. He and his fiancee at the time came to our group a few weeks later and they've been faithful ever since. They're married now and have a hard marriage. They both bring baggage from previous marriages and hard life issues, and they have a hard time unpacking it.

Before I went to group, I prayed that God would guide my words tonight. We were talking about the role of men and women in marriage, and the couple's baggage was there in the room again, and I felt like I should address it with them. It was a hard conversation before it ever began. How do you gently reveal blindspots? How do you help someone see something that's glaring to everyone else, but blissfully dark to them?

So we went outside and had the conversation in private. I talked with Natalie afterward and I think that what I said to them was truth.

I'm not sure that what I said to them was said with love.

I believe in hard conversations. I think the Church is weakened when we shy away from helping others see the things that are killing them. But tonight I realized, again, why the love part is so important. Without love, words are clanging cymbals; obnoxious noise and meaningless syllables strung together. My friends may have heard truthful words tonight, but I don't know that those words will ever find their place. Love makes the hard truth land gently, so it grows.

Truth is easy to spot, and pointing it out is a cheap gift. Speaking the truth in love is the measure of maturity because it means that the truth spoken is for the benefit of the other party, not simply for the benefit of being right. On some level, my heart was and is to see my friends have a better marriage than they can imagine. But I fear that the truth destroyed tonight, rather than building up.

Personally, this is a lesson hard learned. I've made this mistake before, even recently to much the same result as this time. Culturally, I think this is a balance that I want the Church to wrestle with more publicly and honestly. Like I said before, I think the Church needs to have the hard conversations with the culture, and I think we need to have the hard conversations with ourselves. But the greatest command is not to tell truth. The greatest command is to love. The lines are blurry, because love expects the best and has an obligation to the loved one to help them realize the best. But I've seen the truth spoken in love, and I've seen the miraculous results it brings.

I hope I have the opportunity to make it up to my friends. I hope I have the opportunity to speak love into their lives. I hope that as they see that love, they hear the truth as well.

It's wet again: When the north moves down and the west moves over

For the time being, while our offices are under construction, my desk is situated next to an ancient looking white bordered window carved into a red wall. My new office won't have an outside window (or any window at all) so I'm soaking in all the sights and sounds I can while I've got it.

My window looks out over the deck of River City's youth building. Surrounded by oaks and laurels and mulch filled beds of greens and colors bordering the asphalt slab filled to capacity on Sunday's by cars and bikes and scuttling feet, my perspective affords me a view of the corner of the patio cover and the trees beyond. On a day like today, when the downpours range from non-existent to torrential I realize how much I enjoy grey days.

I've always thought that I'd love to live in the Pacific Northwest. Several years ago I was within days of moving up to live with several friends who had relocated there. I couldn't scrounge up the airfare/gas money to get there, and soon enough I abandoned the thought. It all worked out perfectly. Had I moved there, I would have missed all the things that have rolled my way since then. I don't think of it as an opportunity lost, I think of it more like a road not taken.

So when the grey days roll down I start to wonder if I could have taken the Northwestern greyness. Whenever a few rain days are strung together I wait to see if the blues roll in. They never do. I just don't mind the rain. Honestly I wish it would rain more often.

Part of me wonders recently if the moments spent looking out the window and thinking of places far away is the rearing up of the wanderer in me. I've never been in a state of homeostasis for this long. It seems I've got restlessness in the deepest parts of me. Maybe it's (relative) youth, maybe it's laziness, or maybe it's something different that defies labels. It just seems that when I sit still for too long, I start to twitch.

So here's to rainy days and being where you are at the present moment. Billy Joel says, "the good ol' days weren't always good and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems." In between both of the hypothetical yesterday's and tomorrow's is right now. It's all you've got. Make it sweet.

A Toast to Being Poured Out: the optimism of half emptiness

I started reading Augustines Confessions. Mostly because it's a classic and I think there's great value in reading books that have been continually published for 1500 years. As much as I"m intrigued and excited at the prospect of tackling a book like this, I fear that there's part of me that's hoping this will be the silver bullet that slays the dragon of emptiness. But all the while there's this sneaking knowledge that there's no shortcut to true fullness. You can't hurry it. Sometimes when I'm in a hurry to make a bottle for Jackson (usually in the wee hours of the morning) I turn the faucet on full blast and let the water jet into the bottle. Typically what I find when I pull the bottle away is that it's mostly just bubbles, and I have to go back for a second round. The bottle's not full because I didn't let it fill properly.

Those are the little lessons in life that will sneak by if you're not watching for them. I think it's the very process of learning how to slow down and see them that makes fullness happen. I won't be filled instantlyby reading a book, by saying the right prayer, or by doing the good deeds that pop into my head. I can only hope to be filled bit by bit as I learn to take life as it comes. And it comes slowly, and it fills slowly.

The other thing about being filled, is that I'm not starting from empty. I think if I were simply an empty vessel, I'd recognize the little increases and be satisfied. I think more frustrating is the process of unfilling, because that can't be done hastily either. I've got 30 years of habits and reactions to contend with, each one needing to systematically and intentionally unlearned. My frustrations aren't so much that I can't pray for 5 hours at a time or fast for weeks on end, my frustration is that I can't control my temper or manage my money as well as I'd like. The unlearning is the hardest part.

Jesus said that people don't pour new wine into old bottles because the old bottles would break and you'd lose all the wine (He said wineskins, but I don't have any wineskins). You have to get a new bottle for the new wine. This new life that He has for me can't just be superimposed on my old lifestyle. The venerable Chris Coggins used to say "if you do what you've always done, you'll get what you've always got."

So I raise my glass to the process of unlearning. May we enjoy the moments as our empty glasses become full again.

For one or both of us? You be the judge. Or I will. If that's alright with you.

Start. Stop. Start. Stop. Great enthusiasm. Great apathy. Blog after blog after blog. Silence. It's the continuing saga of a would-be writer, I guess. I used to always say that I wanted to write a book. I had a very wise and slightly cynical friend of mine tell me emphatically that I didn't, in fact, want to write a book but rather to have written a book. Good call. It's like playing the guitar or getting in shape. I probably don't really desire to do either of those things, but I sure would like to be on the other end of the process of having done them.

But there's a lot in life that's like that. I don't want to work on my marriage, I want to have a great one. I don't want to feed the dog, but I sure do want the dog to be healthy and active. It's a trade off of sorts, although in the long run, probably not much of one.

It's a well worn cliche that life is a journey and the journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step and if you shoot for nothing you'll eventually hit it and all kinds of other "here and there" sayings that are locked and lost into our psyche. When I used to go see Phish all over the country, the travel was as much a part of the experience as anything. I remember driving across the country to the southern tip of Florida for the millenium. 12 folks in an RV for 10 days. Good times had as we sailed across the southern states taking in the scenes and drinking in the milestones... New Orleans, the mighty Mississip, the everglades... all regal in their splendor, and still only a stop on the way. The destination, had I been beamed from here to there, would have been great, but getting there and getting back are as intricately woven into the fabric of the experience as the experience itself.

Like I said, well worn and much travelled roads talking about the necessity of enjoying the road. But I started thinking about the inconsistency in my blogging. I haven't been motivated by them much. In fact, often times I read the blogs of my well spoken, well thought out friends and wish after wish that I could come up with such wonderful ideas and present them so clearly.

Jealousy is an ugly thing, and a dish best served to someone else.

And at the end of my pity party I came to realize that I've been going about this thing all wrong. The things I like best about the blogs of my friends, even the friends that I haven't met, is that it seems like I know them better through what they write. Their little posts and not so little posts and even their lengthy monologues seem real and authentic, like something out of a Garrison Keilor story where you know the characters and sense their personhood before you know their names or their story. The bloggers I love the best are the ones whose thoughts and words flow out of the core of who they are.

I guess I'm somewhat embarrassed to say that I'm often self-conscious about writing who I am and what I think about things. It just seems that I feel I have to write for someone else. I don't know why I think that, but I do. So I wondered how my voice (my blog voice that is) would sound different if I wrote like no one was ever going to read it. Someone who knows me well mentioned to me one time that if they only knew me through my blog, they would imagine me much differently than I actually am... or atleast they would imagine me much differently than they currently know me. Especially on issues regarding the Church and faith, they said that the "me" that they know from walking around and talking around is much different from the "me" that is sometimes represented.

Perhaps it's the ease of not having to look at someone face to face, or the safety of my laptop screen between the rest of the world and myself, but I find that's often the case. I'm a bold son of a gun on the instant messenger, I promise you that. But it's funny that they said the same thing about the apostle Paul. I've often remarked about how similar he and I are. Then again, not really.

So anyway, by way of the bullet point, a few clarifications that I feel are in order...

• I love the Church. Seriously, it's the best thing going. I think that too often I spend too much time raising questions about the "establishment" and not enough time celebrating the really good parts about it. For the sake of truthful representation, for every Ted Haggard piece I post, I need to post a piece about the Church being the truly restorative and wonderful thing that it is.
• I think that globally, per capita, Christians are the most generous, caring, and gracious demographic (so we're just a demographic now?) on the planet. When I think about the AIDS pandemic (it's the right word, but I don't like it. I just had to say that) in Africa, I think (without having any stats) that most of the hospitals and aid comes in one way or another from a Christ-follower with a passion. I think of orphanages, hosptials, engineers, farmers, and a whole host of other functions that Christians fill when they could be doing something else.
• I think Christians should do better. The hard part about that sentence is that I don't intend it as a comparison. I don't mean "Christians should do better than [insert demographic label here]" because for the most part, I think Christians do better. What I mean, generally speaking, is that there are still hurts, wounds, and tears out there. It's not that we don't do anything, it's that there's still more to do. I begin by looking in the mirror. Honestly, what keeps me from doing more? In one instance, I could do more financially, except that I am afraid that if I give more, I won't have enough for me. Christ said that wouldn't be the case (Matt 6). This is a real conviction for me, and I think that too often I spend time on this conviction without mentioning the first two convictions.

Every faith step I take leads me to another. That's the journey metaphor. If life is a journey, then it doesn't end. When I stop taking steps, then I stop being on a journey and start being at a destination. That's why I say the Church can do more. Bill Hybels often says that the Church is the hope of the world. I couldn't agree more. As far as Christians go, I'm fat and lazy. The only reason I say that is because when I close my eyes and dream, I know that I'm not yet where I should be or even where I could be. When I realize that, I'm not defeated or deflated, I'm motivated. I hear the voice of Father calling me forward again. It's uncomfortable and the more of "me" that I find, the more I realize that I want more of Christ.

So I'm grateful to be a part of something so amazing. It takes my breath away every time I hear about someone taking a first step or another step in faith. It takes my breath away because I can't think of one single time in my life where I've heard someone take a step of faith that cost them something and come back saying it wasn't worth it. Instead, I hear them talk about the abundance they found in their lack, the strength they found in their weakness, and sufficiency of grace.

Father, thank you for your Church. Thank you that you have given me a place. Who am I that you would consider me? Father, let your name find every ounce of glory that it is worth. Let your people move ever onward under your guidance and leadership. Let your Kingdom come, on earth as it is in Heaven. Amen.

Haggard Evangelicals

Another church leader has fallen. Ted Haggard, President of the National Association of Evangelicals, confessed to having sex with a male prostitute and to using methamphetamine while doing it. My thoughts are probably incongruous, sometimes contradictory, and change from minute to minute but here are a few right off the top of my head.

1. CRAP!! There will undoubtedly be a strong backlash against Haggard, and I think there probably should be. I hate the impending black eye and any rash generalizations that will follow, lumping all "born again's" with Haggard and his association.
2. Character always leads. I'll bet there was a time when Ted Haggard was an honest, God fearing husband who was doing his best to passionately follow God. There were probably little character issues that he had either dismissed completely or just never took the time to fully crucify. But the pressures of the rise to prominence will tend to squeeze those little character flaws until they become wild fires out of control. A person's character is who he is, so when the person at the top has areas that he hasn't let God touch, those areas will inevitably lead.
3. Isn't it ironic? Ted Haggard had relations with a male prostitute. I can't think of a group of people in the world who are harsher toward homosexuals than evangelical Christians (at least the public voices of evangelicalism like Pat Robertson, Ted Haggard, et. al. Generally speaking of course). I say ironic, some will say hypocritical. Both are probably right.
4. Respond like Christ. At this moment, I don't feel very kindly toward Ted Haggard. I feel like he's made the job of advancing the cause of Christ more difficult. But the job of the Church is to be a restorative agent in the world. That means Ted Haggard too. As much as it chides me at this moment, Ted Haggard needs the loving discipline that only the church can offer. I mean discipline in the true biblical sense... not punishment, but training for righteousness. There should be consequences, but we as Christians (evangelical or otherwise) have a responsibility not to crucify Haggard again. If we don't deal with our own propensity toward hate and judgment, we run the risk of landing right where Haggard did. Be careful when you think you stand, lest you fall. We shouldn't defend what he's done, or defend ourselves from public opinion. I think defensiveness has given "us" into a lot of problems. We should quit defending our rights, take up a towel and serve the least of these. Right now that means Ted Haggard. I don't in any way recommend letting him off the hook. I recommend restoration (see 1 Corinthians 5:1-5; 2 Corinthians 2:3-11).
5. Love Wins. The wake of this story will probably be far and wide. Ted Haggard's actions have relegated him to a notable list of fallen Church leaders with names like Swaggart, Bakker, and King David. But in the end, love wins. We have an opportunity to show the entire world the redemptive power of love. We can love Haggard without condoning what he's done.
6. Less talk, more action. Personally, I think that as the Church we need to do a lot less talking on the political/public/news junkett scene and a lot more secret loving. 1 Peter 2 reminds us that we are to live such good lives among the people that when they say something bad about us, our lives will be testimonies to Christ's power (paraphrase). Let's not talk so much. Let's not spend so much time telling people what we are for (or more often what we are against) and more time just being for those things.

At the end of this whole thing, I pray that the Church will be moved to silence. They're not listening to what we say, they're watching what we do. We need to apologize and take responsibility for this but then we need to just start doing the things we're supposed to do. Less condemnation, more loving and calling people to follow us to true wholeness in Christ.

Today, I'll cringe a bit if I have to answer the question about whether or not I'm an "evangelical." My response probably won't be much different today than it would have been a few weeks ago, but there will be the looming question in my mind about whether or not I'm being pigeon holed. But such is life as a follower of Jesus. Some will misunderstand and others won't care. But the lesson I hope I take away from this whole thing is that I don't want to defend anyone, least of all myself, with words. I want my life to be an example, so that people who want to pigeon hole evangelicals will have a harder time doing it because of the kind of life I lead. Then I want to boldly and unapologetically call Christians to do the same. We can play a part in making sure nothing like this happens again, if we will ruthlessly deal with those "little" things that become consuming drives, and if we challenge those in our lives (not the general masses, but those who have given me the right to speak into their lives) to live the same way.

I'll be praying for Ted Haggard today. I hope you will too.