Spiritual Growth

bobby posting:

Great Lake Swimmers – Unison Falling Into Harmony

On Monday mornings, I meet at the early hour of 6 am with some solid guys.  I think I’ve told you about this before.  You see…we’ve been doing this for a while, now.  Several years actually.  I’ve been in-and-out a few different times because of college and living elsewhere, but since March of ‘08, I’ve been as consistent with this group as I’ve been with just about anything else.  Probably more so actually.  We study giant, sweeping books of the Bible (Isaiah) or dive deeply into a Christian book that really stretches us.  Not to say anything against Purpose Driven Whatever…, but that’s not exactly what we’re working with here.  We’re snobbier than that…in a good way, I think.  Maybe our next book should be on Pride, now that I think about it.  Actually, our next book is right here, and it could wisely be your next book too.  But what I’m here writing about today is our last book, again brought my way by my partner Coworker in Christ wise counsel dear friend, Taido.

In the book, Longing for God, two authors go thru the history of Christianity to focus on the works of “spiritual giants” to probe into spiritual growth. While the book had some faults, it really proved influential on our group as a whole.  So much so, that after finishing last week, we all decided to embark on our own Longing for God process this week.  We were assigned the following project:  Lay out your own Spiritual Growth.  What does it look like for you?  How does it happen?  How has your relationship with Christ evolved over time?

I digested the question all week long.  While sitting at my desk at work, while lying in bed at home, while trekking 12 miles in one day on the Buffalo River Trail, while driving in my car and sitting fat and happy on my couch at home.  I’ve copy and pasted below what I came up with and shared with my group.  It’s the steps I took along the way, not that it’s nearly as clear and concise as that in real life.  I finished each section by shortly detailing what my prayer life looked like at the time.  In some ways, I think those short, sweet sentences themselves hold just as much weight as the paragraphs preceding them.  Like a great Apple Crisp that almost makes you forget the steak you just devoured.  Man, I’m hungry.  Anyway…

I’d love to hear anyone else’s thoughts.  Post it in the comments section, email it my way and I’ll put it up here on the site if you’re willing.  What I learned after hearing everyone else share this morning is that the communal part of this growing process is pretty integral to individual growth as a whole.  So sharing is caring…for yourself..and for others.  Enjoy…and dissect.

My Own Path of Spiritual Growth

- First and foremost, I encountered a willingness to surrender and believe.  To accept love, embrace a new life, and live for more.  It was like seeing a black and white world turn to color for the first time.  The curtain was torn and real life was revealed…not that I had any idea how to live in this new reality.

Prayed for God to grow in me, and for me to grow in God.

- Next, like a dog joyfully running alongside his owner, just-happy-to-be-outside and not too concerned with the leash,  I just passionately followed thru with this new, wild and wonder-filled commitment.  I was bold in my new convictions, so much so that life at this point was mostly lived by the law.  That may sound contradictory.  But  I held comfort and found substance in solid commandments and moral truths.  I stood strong in black and whites, in not even wading into any uncharted gray waters.  Where nowadays this may look Pharisaic and legalistic, at the time, it simply seemed essential.  It was following the lines on the script…no improvising…trusting in the words that had already been written.

Prayed boldly and believingly.

- Slowly but surely, I began to live beyond the law.  This is not to say I picked up the booze, stole cigarettes from the convenience store, or starting throwing profanities at the heavens.  It was just that I began to learn that this was not about right and wrong, but about life and death.  The life and death of a living, breathing, walking and talking soul.  Rules could no longer provide that sort of real, living life.  I found a deeper understanding of grace, grew in a greater, real relationship with Christ.  Began to live out the fruits of the Spirit because of my own desire for more out of myself, and out of this relationship as a whole.  Learned to really trust the Lord, the ruler, with my life, with my daily, breakfast-lunch-and-dinner everyday life.

Prayed with hope and honesty.

- More recently, I have encountered spiritual growth by grappling intellectually with the Bible, with greater truths about God and my faith on a larger scale.  In the middle of “wrestling” though, I have actually begun to really lay strong foundations for my relationship with God.  Even more, I have felt complete grace and peace in pushing on old foundations.  Doubt and faith are so closely tied together, that without the first you can’t have the second.   You see, faith without doubt is no longer faith, it’s knowledge.  I’ve been stretching out my faith like a walker running out his muscles.  Sure it aches in areas it’s never ached before, but it’s also opening me up to run in a way I’ve never ran before.   This kind of growth requires straddling a thin line between careful caution and reckless abandon.  Be careful to be reckless…this is one we can grow in deeper ways than we’ve ever known.  I’m just barely, barely scratching at the surface…

Praying probingly.  Praying pursuingly.

- And finally, I mostly find myself skirting back between here and the place before.  Here is where I’ve found deep, deep contentment in Christ.  It is knowing that you’ll never run away from this relationship, and earnestly looking down the road at all the life you’ll get to still live together.  All those uncharted waters you were once so afraid of.  Contentment has always sounded so stagnant and boring to me.  For most, that’s the biggest fear of commitment:  “contentment.”  It sounds like the veneer has been polished away and life has gone.  Dorothy has clicked her heels and left Oz.  In actuality, though, I suppose I can’t think of a better metaphor.  “There’s no place like home”, and finally, at this point, you’ve realized that this home you’ve grown in is where your heart is, where it’s always been.  It’s loving this home like never before.  It’s still continuing to seek more, yearn for more, live for more, hope for more, and expect more.  But like a college student coming home for Thanksgiving and being overwhelmed with this giant array of delicious, free, HOMEmade food, this is appreciating home like you’ve never appreciated it before.

Praying thankfully and undeservingly.

________________________________________

That’s really where I am these days.  But before I wrap up, I want to acknowledge one more thing that is glaringly obvious to me, but I feel as if I’ve left it out to you. In the middle of all my growth, really honoring the Sabbath, fasting, service, study, discipleship, missions and other spiritual disciplines have all proved invaluable and essential.  But more than anything, and a thread that completely ties together my whole piece, is a real sense of community.  I could rewrite this whole post by replacing each “step” I’ve taken with one or several names.  Of people that met me in that place and pushed me along like never before.  That slowly watched my steps for me, that carried me on their back or even gently nudged me off a ledge I needed to jump from.  It’s the fabric, the knitting woven amongst it all, and hopefully, us all.  There’s no place like home.  Who has shown you that?  Who has given you that sense of community? Think about where you’ve been along the way.  Who’s taken you there.

But even more, think about where you are right now?  Open up your eyes and get your hands typing.  Writing it down or, at least, talking about it, may bring more clarity to your own growth and your own life.  I challenge you to take that step yourself.  Or even, I challenge you to ask sometime to politely nudge you over that ledge.

i and love and bobby

adam posting:

somehow, i feel okay posting this minutes after bobby’s post. this certainly is not an attempt to steal his thunder, but i think they go well together. beginnnnnnnning now:

Tonight the Avett Bros play a show in Madison, WI. They will visit the exact venue, The Barrymore, where eight years ago I witnessed the live performance of the Big Wu’s 10^th Anniversary show. That night was one of the happiest moments of my life, and yet it contained the saddest realization of my high school years. 

The Barrymore Theater is a run-down auditorium that reminds me of a school playhouse. Two sloped cement aisles split rows of red velvet chairs and lead down to a simple elevated stage. Almost exactly eight years ago, about ten feet from that very stage, I caught my friend Danny as he slumped against my tie-dyed t-shirt. Halfway through the second night of the 10^th anniversary gig, he turned gray and passed out completely, drowning in a dizzying sea of marijuana, alcohol, and an unkown variety of mushroom.

Danny, Chris, and I had become best friends during a lonely and difficult senior year of high school. Chris and I lifted weights together three times a week. Danny and I drove together to school. The three of us shared a love of hiking and the outdoors, of jam bands and sports. Our weekend nights extended to the early hours of the morning. One night we chased deer in Danny’s rusting minivan. Another night, I drank my first beer under the one lane bridge behind Danny’s house, and we threw our empty bottles down to the paved bike path below.

We caused trouble in high school with elaborate pranks, and skipped out of classes with intertwined and intricate excuses. But, while foolish and annoying (placing dead minnows behind various library books, serving Digornio pizza to classrooms while in session, and at one point hiding a dead squirrel in the drop ceiling of the hallway outside of our gymnasium), these pranks were not endangering our character any more than a skinned knee threatens a man’s life. And yes, I do now understand the grossness of hiding dead animals as a joke and can no longer easily explain the humor in these actions.

The three of us had anticipated this early winter evening for months. We had sworn allegiance to the Big Wu over all other main-stream jam bands like the String Cheese Incident or Phish, cherishing our own Midwestern band and memorizing the words to at least a dozen songs. The afternoon of the show, we met at our local Park ‘n Ride and excitedly packed snacks and drinks into Chris’ Toyota SUV. The one hour drive to Madison lived up to our anticipation, and I distinctly remember savoring the moment while leaning forward from the backseat to join in on conversation. It felt a lot like the sense of satisfaction after eating a home-cooked meal amongst family.

We arrived wild-eyed in the college town of Madison, and it seemed that the momentum of the evening could hardly be contained. Someone spotted a local Mexican restaurant and hollered for Chris to pull in. But, halfway through our burrito dinner, I sensed that I was being left out of a shared secret. The other two guys were taking turns sneaking off to the bathroom, and they would return to the table smiling to each other as they sat down. When Danny returned to the table after his second visit to the bathroom, the upper portion of his pant leg was soaking wet, and I asked for an explanation. They had been smuggling glass bottles of beer into the bathroom in the pockets of their pants. Against my protests, the trips continued for another round, until a glass bottle crashed against the tile bathroom floor and sent us hurtling out of the restaurant.

As we careened out of the parking lot with the other two guys laughing in the front seat, the weight of loneliness began to sink into my stomach. My sense of belonging had been lost. Later that night, as I watched the people around me dancing with free spirits and inhaling strange tastes and smells with abandon, I felt isolated and alone. By the time I dragged Danny out to the SUV and forced him to drink a bottle of water, I was ready to return home.

Riding back in the darkness of the stark highway and the quietness of the exhausted group, I realized that this was the last night I would ever share with my two closest friends. I understood that they were leaning into experiences that I refused to attempt, and that the adventures were reaching depths I did not want to visit. I remember looking out of the window in sadness and admitting to myself that I could no longer pretend to share the same goals or aspirations.

That moment, while riding home, felt like someone turned on the lights during a crowded show. Suddenly the ripped velvet seats and the cracked paint of the cement aisles didn’t seem as inviting. The stage seemed smaller. And underneath the rows of seats, I could see the stains of spilled beer and the crumpled forms of discarded trash.

(Not Necessarily) Love at First Sight

bobby posting:

The Avett Brothers – I and Love and You

I was riding shotgun as my wife drove us home from grandma’s house when we passed a Best Buy.  I looked at the store, giant in scope and lit up like an Alaskan winter.  I remembered that as a teenage boy I’d make up reasons to head there the same way that Dad’s make up reasons to spend Saturday afternoons at Home Depot.  I’d walk in, scan CDs and movies and home theater systems and video games and laptops and cameras and video recorders, and usually leave spending the $15 in cash that I walked in with on some album Rolling Stone told me I needed to have.  Not that there was anything wrong with that.  In fact, that’s exactly how I came to love my favorite band, Wilco.

They were plastered right there on the cover of the magazine.  “Would this album, Yankee Foxtrot Hotel, propel them to fame and fortune?” Rolling Stone asked.  The article convinced me.  I immediately hopped in my Jeep and made the purchase.  The whole way home I drove questioning and confused.  Really?  This album was it?  This was the best that 2002 had to offer?  I didn’t get it.  The same way I didn’t get that the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds album always made editor’s top 5 all-time lists.  So I did something novel.  I listened to it again.  And even more novel…one more time.  Eventually, that music began to seep its way into my pores.  I began to convince myself.  Every time I put that disc into a player, I grew more and more into the music.  It became deeper and deeper, a part of me.       While passing Best Buy with my wife, I realized that that whole process just doesn’t happen anymore…and you know what?  That’s a shame.

Just recently the Avett Brothers released their highly anticipated, critically acclaimed new album, I and Love and You. Just like Wilco’s work before, it was going to be one of the best of the year…sure to please.  Even more exciting for me, I was going to get to see this band, one of the best live performances you’ll ever see, in concert in my home town.  I was making promises and commitments to everyone I knew that I would surely be making the trek to Best Buy.  This was not an iTunes purchase, and it certainly wasn’t a rip-from-the-internet kind of album.  This would be one I had to be able to physically hold in my hand.  To play in my car and my home stereo.  Then something happened.

NPR released a full-length stream of the album.  My partner-in-crime and I listened to in around the office.  The title track came on.  It was good, but I already knew that.  It’d made the rounds on all the music blogs and the video had already hit YouTube and everywhere else.  Then came the second song.  Solid again.  The third and fourth and fifth.  All fine songwriting and enjoyable listening.  But somewhere in there I zoned out a bit only to realize that I’d stopped really listening to the album.  I thought it was good.  At least, it seemed like it.

A few days later I’d see that incredible live show.  And it was just that…incredible.  In fact, go see them if you EVER have the opportunity.  Watching those two brothers work a crowd is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.  And then four days later, I had the opportunity to experience the full album, in its entirety, in the solitude of my own office.  A little internet invention called LALA.com gives you the ability to listen to any album in its entirety…once.  If you want to listen to any song again, you’ll get a 30-second iTunes-ish preview, unless you pay 10 cents or so…and then you can listen to it within LALA anytime you want.  Pretty cool concept right?  That’s what I thought, at first.  Now, I’m not so sure.  I think LALA has ruined music for me.  Way more than iTunes ever could.

When I bought my first Wilco album, I had something invested in it.  Literally, I had 15 bucks on the line.  I was committed to enjoying it, at least enjoying it for its worth of $15.  I gave it a second listen because of that very reason.  In fact, that’s the same reason I gave it a third.  Finally, the wheels began to turn.  It was an acquired taste and I was slowly becoming a judge of fine art.  I had to physically labor to get something out of it.  But in the end, it was completely worth it.

With LALA, I’m able to listen to the whole album, all the way thru, for free.  Afterwards, I’m left with one impression or another.  If the record screams, “GO BUY ME NOW OR YOU WILL NEVER SLEEP WELL AGAIN!”…then I obey and Best Buy it.  If not, I’m probably not going to spend my hard earned 15 bucks.  But look at the loss here.

What if I’m completely missing out on another musical experience?  What if I need to literally invest something in this, besides the time of one full listen, to get anything out of it?  Does that say something about the music itself?  Should it just be able to be consumed and enjoyed right away?  Or is that the reason why so many people love/hate pop music?  Am I asking too many philosophical over-played-out questions for the blogosphere?  Sorry about that.  I know…I kind of annoyed myself there for a second too.

Sorting out the deep-thinking pretentious college-aged kid questions, and getting back to the crux:

1 / How much of an impact does physically investing in something have on our actual enjoyment of it?

And…

2 / Does that matter in respect to the “art” of the piece itself?

I’m the kind of guy that feels the need to answer my own tough questions, so here goes:  I’m convinced that if I would’ve simply purchased the Avett’s album right away at the store, I’d still be listening to it every morning on my drive to work, and loving every second of it.  And you know what?  I think that does sort of taint the “art”.  But you know what else?  I think I’m ok with that.  I think there’s a valuable lesson on love itself somewhere in here, especially on this romantic idea of love at first sight and the idea of laboring to love.  But instead of running that dead, I think I’m going to go ahead and bow out now and let you connect the rest of the dots yourself.

With Love,

Me

Would you expect anything less?

Daniel posting:

Money has gotten a little tight around here with MPH tuition soaring, marriages of even pets (or so it seems) to attend, and a lady friend to keep happy. Naturally, I decided to take the initiative and look for avenues of supplemental income. This pursuit took me straight to the announcement board outside the bathrooms near md labs (this is synonymous with the study dungeons where loud vents pump what you hope is air into a room that echoes the barks of research dogs pleading cries as desperately as the gingerbread man in Shrek). There I found destiny: a two-drug study of an anti-retroviral and an anti-tuberculosis medication to see the pharmacokinetics of the two drugs’ interactions in healthy patients. “How perfect could this be?” I wondered, thinking of my interests in infectious disease and this possibility of “adding” to the body of knowledge about treating HIV+ patients infected with TB.

Though my “dream” opportunity has arisen to make a fast $1,225, I’m stuck here wondering, “Is it worth it?” Is it worth yet to possibly pee orange? Is it worth it to possibly build resistant to some of the most potent drugs available (aka am I setting myself up for trouble if I ever do get something pretty nasty in the future)? Is it worth it to take charge and clutch what seems to be a good fit without first consulting Him?

The pastor preached about the difference between the world’s reaction to life’s difficulties and the disciples reaction the other day. His sermon illuminated many things for me and convicted me that, like this study, I often rush to do what I think should be done, to plan for the challenge, to prepare for adversity. But I forget to pray for His will….

The promise: “But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be witnesses to Me in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” – Acts 1:8 (The global solution: A God for all)

Awe-struck: “Now when He had spoken these things, while they watched, He was taken up, and a cloud received Him out of their sight. And while they looked steadfastly toward heaven as He went up, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel, who also said, ‘Men of Galilee, why do you stand gazing up into heaven? This same Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will so come in like manner as you saw Him go into heaven.’” – Acts 1:9-11 (sometimes it takes Godly interventions to prod us out of inertia, into action)

Godly “planning” = praying: “Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a Sabbath’s day’s journey. And when they had entered, they went up into the upper room where they were staying: Peter, James, John, and Andrew; Philip and Thomas; Bartholomew and Matthew; James the son of Alphaeus and Simon the zealot; and Judas the son of James. These all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication, with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with His brothers.” – Acts 1:12-14

I’m attempting to memorize Deuteronomy 6, fellas, and would appreciate your encouragement/accountability. Here’s what I have so far:

“These are the commands, decrees, and laws the Lord your God directed me to teach you to observe in the land that you are crossing the Jordan to inherit, so that you, your children, and their children after them may fear the Lord your God…”

It’s not much, but it is a start. Test on Friday, so pray for God to still come first (please).

Dan

these days…

adam posting:

Last night I was huddling outside the grocery store on a cold and rainy evening, waiting for Kristin to pick me up, when Robert Harvey Harrison sent me a text message. And when I looked out again across the wet parking lot, searching for the familiar headlights of my Mitsubishi Montero, I was smiling.

The unique aspect of my moment outside the grocery store was that a text message reached a level of impact it doesn’t often attain. The text is an often misused and almost always overused form of communication. You have probably been trapped into the obligatory conversation with an acquaintance that over-texts: they include us in the celebration of their favorite team’s victory, they inform us of their current psychological state, they send messages like “wuts up wit u l8tly?” and expect an in-depth answer. And even I have been personally guilty of the “Evite” use of group texting.

But Bobby’s text message, in one unpunctuated and non-capitalized sentence, carried with it the three most important messages a friend needs to hear: “I care about you”, “I’m thinking of you”, and “You are important to me”. It was beautiful in its simplicity.

Text messaging is the sitcom of communication tools. It is the thirty-minute weekly show that requires periodic laughter and one big twist per conversation to sustain interest. And most users of text limit their purpose the same way that most television shows produce easy forms of entertainment. In the end, texting reveals the same weaknesses as a weekly sitcom: time limits, low expectations, and a tendency toward forced attempts at humor.

There are higher forms of communication beyond the instant gratification tool of text. Like a trusty favorite movie, an old friend can be called over and over again, without any need for the occasion other than a longing to hear that person’s voice. A phone call can make you laugh, it can make you cry, it can change your opinion – a phone call can frighten or calm, brighten or bore. And post offices do still exist for purposes beyond sponsoring Lance Armstrong’s bicycle endeavors. Like a good book, letter-writing requires a sustained focus for long periods of time. But, I doubt any text could ever compare to the joy of finding a tattered and bruised hand-written letter in the mailbox.

Even if we only have time to communicate through a hurried text message, remember that it is still a form of reaching out to another person. Creativity and thoughtfulness still carry the day, even on a one-inch square phone display. Bobby’s text proved to me that there is still the chance to make Friday Night Lights out of a weekly television show. There is still an opportunity to impact a friend you love.

Coming Soon: Love Like the Movies Vol. 2

bobby posting:

Shooting my second one of these on Sunday.  Very excited about getting back to my videography roots again.  For those of you that missed the first go-around, enjoy:

Wake Up, Men

bobby posting:

The Avett Brothers – Go to Sleep

[Avett Brothers today, in honor of getting to see them play here in Arkansas this Friday!]

Earlier this week, my men’s small group met together at the early hour of 6 am.  We’re currently going through an amazing book called “Longing for God”.  In it, we thumb through the giants of Christian thought and practice and reflect and respond to what they stood for.

While studying Martin Luther, we read “the key to faith for Luther is anfechtung, a state of hoplessness and helplessness.”  I admitted immediately that it is difficult for me to identify and relate to this (a thought that deserves it’s own post), in which case a member of our group quipped, “Well, you are about to have a child!”  (Cue laughter from the entire group of guys. )  Despite the fact that it was just a silly, little joke (and yes, that’s really all it was)…I still wasn’t laughing.

You see, my wife is nearly 6 months pregnant.  Our son is due in January and I couldn’t be more excited about being a dad, about the prospect of bringing up a solid man.  This is something I’ve always hoped for, always longed for.  Every chance I get, I soak up advice and wisdom.  Unfortunately though, nearly all of my talks with current dads have left me annoyed, bothered, chafed, disheartened, exasperated, and frustrated…and that’s just A thru F.  Here’s what those talks generally look like:

Me:  If there was something you could share, one nugget of wisdom or advice or truth that you could pass on to me, a soon-to-be Dad, what would it be?

Man:  Enjoy sleep while you still can (cue laughter from group of guys…again).

Really, that’s it?  Sleep?  You see, I wouldn’t be so tiffed and miffed about it if that weren’t the same response I’ve gotten from just about every man I’ve encountered.  Sleep?  Really?  Is that what we men value more than anything else?  Listen, I know I’m gonna lose sleep.  I know nothing will prepare me for how exhausted and deprived I’ll be from the workload of caring for a newborn.  I get it…as much as one can “get it” without actually going through it.  But that’s the one liner every man wants to go for?  That’s the wisdom, advice, and truth that is going to assist another young man to raise a young boy into this world?

Maybe I’m naive.  Maybe I have the same “lost hope” of a young 20-something entering law school in hopes of changing the world.  But I’m fine with that, and I know that hasn’t stopped Zach from pursuing law.  Maybe a few years from now I’ll be hoping to permanently delete this post from ever existing.  Maybe some young man will ask for my advice as he’s in the middle of his wife’s pregnancy and I’ll smirk and spout off something about waking up at all hours of the night.  Maybe…but probably not.  How can I be so sure?  Beacuse I’ve already been down this same frustrating road once before.

Four years ago, I was on the verge of marrying my high school sweetheart.  Me and Amy had dated for six years and knew it was time to tie the knot.  I’d been dreaming and praying and hoping for this day for a long time.  I’d always wanted a wife to love.  To really care for and treat right and grow old with and all that sweet romantic stuff.  I’m not one of those men who wanted to relish in their ultra-masculine promiscuity and eternal longing for singlehood.  I wanted to be married, and Amy was the one I wanted to be married to.

Before the wedding though, I constantly seemed to encounter men who felt the need to give me all the “warnings and trappings” of marriage.  All sorts of “ball and chain” talk.  Just like the newborn discussions, most were all in fun and jest.  Most probably actually liked their wives and the fact that they actually had one, they just for some reason believed the most valuable thing they could bring to the table was a little “reality” check.  Apparently reality bites.

Not for me, though.  The reality of marriage has far surpassed my vision of what marriage would be.  We have grown and pushed each other on more than anyone could hope for.  We have experienced God’s love and each other’s love more than we knew was possible.  And we did all of this together.  Sure, marriage is difficult.  I got it.  I’m gonna lose some sleep?  Check.  But give me something more.  Here’s a little illustration that may bring it all home:

Say you’re climbing a mountain.  You’ve been waiting to get to this peak for days.  You looked at photos of it online before you ever made the trek out.  You’ve read books and guides about not only the safest path, but the most enjoyable one as well, even the one with the best view.  This is the mountain you’ve lived your life to climb.  About 2/3rds of the way up, you encouter a climber on their way down.  You look at them with wide-eyed wonder.  They’ve already been there.  They’ve already done it.  You look them in the eyes and ask them, “So…what can you tell me about it?”  You’re forgetting all the books and maps you’ve seen now.  This is someone standing right in front of you who’s all sweat and tested.  They take a deep breath, smile a little crookedly, and respond, “Well…your legs are gonna be sore.”  What?  My legs are gonna be sore?  That’s it?  I already knew that.  I didn’t climb this mountain believing I’d have fresh legs on the way down.  I climbed it hoping I’d see something up there I’d never seen before.  I climbed it hoping I’d grow and stretch myself.  I climbed it hoping that one day I could bring my son on this climb.  I climbed it believing I could one day give him the guidance to walk this path himself.

Men, I realize the easiest thing to say isn’t always the most sincere.  But push beyond that.  Don’t settle for locker room cliches of what being a husband and dad are.  Especially you solid Christian men.  You who want to love your wives as Christ loved the church, who want to Father your children with the same love the Father has for us.  If you have the opportunity to guide someone up that giant mountain, don’t just go to sleep on us and throw out some tired response.   Rise up. Wake up.  And in all sincerity, man up.

Jesus Saves Me

I’ve been meaning to share this wonderful photo with ya’ll from my trip to the Taj Majal this summer. Besides being comic relief, it’s a friendly reminder that what we know as “the Bible belt” is quickly being replaced by our brothers and sisters in the East and Africa seeking to make His “kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven.”

Dan being evangelized in Indian."

Thoughts on the Bus #3

Zach Posting:

“Run” by Snow Patrol

Journal entry:

I have officially hit a wall. I am used to being able to live at a high level of energy and when I can’t, I feel dead inside. School has hit full swing and it feels like it has taken over everything. I tried to push into the work to stay ahead, but my time to myself and my time with God were the first to go. What I continually forget is that this unbound energy I need so badly is completely a result of my connection with God. Without it, my thoughts and desires flee from him.

People often ask me why sinful thoughts matter if they don’t hurt anyone else. The reality is that they destroy me. They create or further my disconnect with God. It eats away at me from the inside and leaves a shell of the former self until I fall on my knees and call out for help. This is how I feel this morning. Just a shell. Normally, this would cause me to pray and ask God for help, but this time I just feel angry and rebellious in a way that I can not understand. I want to be far from God.

Trying to find some semblance of peace, I sat and listened to music. The song ‘run’ came on with the lyrics:

‘Light up! Light up!
As if you had a choice,
Even if you can’t hear my voice.
I will be beside you.

Obviously this is not God actually speaking to me (as far as I know, this is a love song rather than a religious one). Still, it made me realize what I want. I want to be full of life. I don’t want to live in shades of grey. Besides being a desire, I realized I really had no choice in the matter. God has claimed my life in such a way that when I return to my old self everything feels dull and dead.

To all of you I leave this challenge: Light up! Live brightly and don’t settle for a life of grey.

A Day on the Bus Part II

zach posting:

Last week, after years of questions and attempts to find God, my close friend Mike became a Christian. For the first time he sat down to pray and felt the tangible presence of God that could not be denied and it enabled him to let go of all of his doubts and fears. My favorite moment last week was watching him at church for the first time after this life changing experience. We had a guest speaker from Turkey who talked about his dramatic conversion from Islam to Christianity that literally saved him from death, but eventually led to years of false imprisonment for his faith. I had assumed that most new Christians would be turned off or scared by such a dramatic story and I turned to check on how he was doing. There was an unbelievable look of love and excitement on his face that shocked me. I could see that he wanted what this man talked about more than me who has been a Christian for years. I was humbled.

I began to ask myself: What happened to my first love? Why am I not on the front of my seat at every sermon hoping to gain some grain of truth that I have not yet soaked up? Where is the daily excitement and passion?

Sitting in my self pity, the 147 express bus exited off Lake Shore onto Michigan and my ipod switched  to ‘Down on the Corner’ by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

Creedence Clearwater Revival – Down on the Corner

As I prayed, I heard the words ‘If this is the love experienced by those who just met me, think of the love that is there that have know me deeply for years.’ These words penetrated my heart and I excited the bus in a similar state to my friend Mike on Sunday. All the weight and stress of school seemed to melt away, a smile came to my face and even the sun seemed to shine more brightly. I fear that I even began to walk down Michigan Avenue with a little bit of a strut. (It is always risky to walk with head phones on in public). Oh well, it wouldn’t be the first time my love of God led me to do embarrassing things. It is amazing how a simple change in our outlook on life can drastically change how we experience life.

I realized that my relationship with God does not need to be filled with a set of emotional highs, but instead he has replaced that with a deep inner knowledge of his continual presence. It is also comforting, however, to know that when I really need that extra touch that he is there.

Mike has inspired me. I want to be the person fully expecting to see God in every moment. Perhaps this starts by ending my willingness to fall asleep in church under the explanation that it is probably ‘holy sleep.’ I know there is balance here, but I fear that I have become complacent letting God find me. Like any relationship, I need to reciprocate the effort and seek his heart as much as he is seeking mine.

I am excited to be in this time of law school, where, for the first time, I am being tested to my limits. Tested to the point where I will most likely fail at some point. I am grateful that God is using this period to both draw me closer to him and to force me to set tough priorities. I both fear and hope for the next moment when God brings me to my knees.