What are we going to do tonight, Brain?

"Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

"I think so Brain, but what if the chicken won't wear the nylons?"

Heh...I loved that cartoon.

...

Anyway, it's a typical Halloween evening at our house in a neighborhood with a lot of kids. Every few minutes, I have to make a door run to hand out candy. Now that I have kids of my own, I'm not so annoyed by trick-or-treaters.

...

Random thought: If I owned a Sneaky-Pete's hot dog franchise, I'd probably sell a special "Halloweenie" on Halloween. <end random thought>

...

15 years ago today, I was in college...attending this great Halloween party. Today, I'm at home...with two kids...trying to figure out what to do for dinner. Wow, it's amazing how things have changed over the years. Still, I can't complain. I love my kids...and half the fun of a holiday like this is seeing them (well, Kailyn...) get real excited about the festivities.

Alrighty...leftover Little Ceasar's Pizza? Or some real food? Maybe I'll just munch on all this Halloween candy.

Mmm...Reese's Peanut Butter cups...

Becoming Mr. Pibb...

I was never a Mr. Pibb guy. I also don't really like Dr. Pepper, but given the choice between the two, I usually pick Dr. Pepper. To me, both taste like carbonated Robitussin.

But the "Put It In Your Head" subtitle on every Mr. Pibb can conveys words of wisdom that can be easily overlooked. Well, that's only because there is no real words of wisdom in that phrase but it's triggered a thought that I'm developing...

"Put It In Your Head." If I were to utter such a phrase about an idea or a philosophical/theological thought, I mean I want you to do more than just hear it. I want you to dwell on it. To truly understand something is to "put it in your head." Let it bounce around in there a while. Let it dialogue with your neurons and plug up your ears a bit to noise of the outside world. Get to know it. Don't let it bounce of your skull with a simple "courtesy nod." Really listen and dwell on it.

***

I graduated high school like every high school graduate. Overtly confident and excited about my future and my abilities and "how things were going to be better" in college, but secretly scared to death of change and being thrust out on my own.

I'd grown up in church. My closest high school friends were Christian friends. I managed to avoid many of the pitfalls of high school youth NOT because I was some sort of saint by any means, but because I simply had friends who were equally convicted about certain things.

I was naive, too. Being naive is easy when you've sheltered yourself from many of life's temptations. I'd seen girly magazines. I'd seen Skinemax movies when everyone else was asleep. A friend and I used to fire handguns at an embankment in his neighborhood (big handguns...44 Magnum-type handguns), which was highly illegal. Another friend and I rolled one of those big telephone cable spools down a street, where it mowed down someone's mailbox and destroyed a picket fence. Lots of little mischievous things like this.

But that's panzy-stuff. I did these things and thought they were rebellious. After all, I considered myself a good "church kid." While some of my peers were busy drinking themselves silly on Friday nights and testing the virginity of their girlfriends, I was happy to know that my greatest rebellion was doing something like...smoking a cigar on a youth trip.

Whoopty-doo. I'm a real rebel.

So college hit me like a bullet in the forehead. My first week there was an eye-opening experience that basically made me realize that what I considered rebellious was, in fact, just normal behavior for 90% of the people in the world. At least the people at Mercer University. I became wide-eyed at the things people did for fun...partly out of sheer shock and partly out of curiosity. Either way, it was no longer something I could ignore.

I had two roommates. Keith and Duke. Yes...Duke. Keith was a rather civilized, church-y kinda guy who had a girlfriend back home...and pretty much had all his ducks in a row. Duke, on the other hand, was what I would call a "good 'ol boy." And that he was. He had bullet holes in his old Dodge Omni that a neighbor had put there because he'd driven on his land. Wow. Hatfields and McCoys...almost literally. However, Duke's background might mislead you into thinking he was not intelligent, but he was...very intelligent. A deep thinker. Someone with whom late-night conversations led me to question a lot of things I called beliefs.

Keith and I started going to the BSU. Now I don't know how the BSU operates on most college campuses (or even how it operates at Mercer today), but I do know that I did not feel welcome. Or even when I did, I felt like I was joining some sort of secret society that eyed the rest of the campus with skepticism and disdain. In other words, even if I was welcome, many people wouldn't be. The safety of my hometown church experience had led me to believe Christians were warm, loving people everywhere.

Not so.

Befriending people in the BSU was like a peasant rising through the ranks of Victorian aristocracy. A great deal of effort.

Feeling a little disillusioned (and intrigued by the secular lifestyles I was becoming more familiar with), I decided to go through "rush." Fraternity rush, that is.

Eventually, I became a brother in Pi Kappa Phi. Why? I felt more welcome there in 10 minutes than I did in 10 days in the BSU. They didn't judge me because I was a Christian. Likewise, I found it easy to NOT judge them because many of them were not. At least not "Christian" in the "I go to church and am on the youth council" kind of sense I was used to.

They drank. They partied. I heard more sex stories in one year than I had in my whole life. They lived for these things. Classes were sometimes just obstacles that got in the way, and were it not for the fraternity's mandatory GPA requirements, I doubt many of them would've studied at all. And I'd be a liar to say they were not fun to hang around with. They were fun. Very fun. I understood quickly why fraternity brothers - in many cases - stayed brothers for life.

But more than that, I quickly overcame my naive, church-raised perception that these guys were heathen. One of my sophomore year roommates was notorious for doing things like...getting so drunk that he'd wake up and piss on the floor in the dorm room. But a nicer guy you couldn't find anywhere. He liked everybody, and was pretty much liked by everybody. At the time, I knew few Christians (if any) that could claim the same thing.

I got to see a lot of stuff.

I stayed up all night with a girl who'd drank so much fruit punch (mixed with no small amount of Everclear), that I had to keep her awake all night just to help the alcohol wear off.

I've driven 5 miles in my car stopping every 100 feet so a friend could stick his head out the window and throw up...before he passed out 50 feet from the dorm.

I had to convince one of my roommates (who was literally dressed as Indiana Jones for a party...complete with a real whip) that he did, in fact, just order the pizza that was delivered...though he didn't remember ordering it. "No I didn't," he screamed as he literally cracked the whip, taking out a ceiling tile in the process. Then he snatched the large Domino's pizza out of my hand and ate the whole thing...until he eventually passed out with the empty box on his stomach.

I got up in the middle of the night and drove with a friend and two girls to Savannah, GA just so we could see the sunrise on the beach.

I learned that Southern Comfort mixed with Coca-Cola makes for an excellent drinking experience....without getting drunk.

I learned that Milwaukee's Best is, actually, the WORST beer on the planet.

But beyond all this...

I found friends that I could lean on during anything. And I learned to be a friend when people needed one. More than once...

And just by being there among my college friends, I got my first taste of what it's really like to try to be Christ to people.

One of my best friends in college was the ex-girlfriend of one of my fraternity brothers. She was a Rhode Island native named Elizabeth. One night, she'd been to a party where she'd run into her "ex," and he had ridiculed her publicly. She called me up, and asked me to come walk her home. When I reached her, I realized that she was plastered. She'd been drinking something called "Green God D***," and it had messed her up. I just about literally carried her home (back in the day, I could physically do things like that).

I sat with her for hours as she cried and cried about the lost relationship with her ex-boyfriend. Slowly, she began to sober up. But the emotions stayed the same. They had been secretly engaged, then something happened that led him to accuse her of cheating on him (which she hadn't done), and they broke up. The single most important man in her life...who had meant so much to her...was now her worst enemy, and he bad-mouthed her at almost every opportunity.

I just sat with her...and listened.

At one point, she looked up...and told me I was her best friend. That through everything she'd been through, that she'd found in me someone she could trust. Someone who would listen. Someone who would carry her home when she drank too much. Though the romantic potential I was hearing in the conversation was something that excited me, what she asked to do next was amazing...

She asked to read the Bible. She wanted to open up this book that supposedly meant so much to me (which I claimed did, but didn't read near as often as I made it seem).

So we did. We read for a while. We read about God being the kind of person we all need...someone who can give us real love that never fails. After reading some of it, she said, "I think I'm finally beginning to understand what you try to tell me sometimes. I mean, I think I finally understand why you're the kind of person you are."

I was floored. I hadn't been an evangelist to her. No gospel tracts in my pocket. No pithy Bible verses recited from memory. I was just her friend. That was it.

Though my friendship with her did take an eventual romantic (and very short-lived) turn, schedules and the complexity of maintaining a friendship after failed romance led to some distance between us. However, I will never forget that night. A night I realized that I had inadvertantly done something I did not set out to do.

***

The best thing that happened to me in college was not finding a place to belong in the BSU. I had to find somewhere else to belong. I had to turn to the so-called secular circles. I made a lot of friends, and somehow wound up being Christ to a few people. Oh sure, I failed. A lot. So saying I was Christ to people seems profoundly arrogant now that I think about it.

But moments like the ones with Elizabeth P. showed me that what people need is not a bunch of Christians standing on the sidelines scoffing at the worldly behavior of others, but Christ-followers/Christ-imitators willing to get out...make friends...no strings attached...and simply love people where they are at. Besides, I found love in the process. Like I said, I found more love and acceptance in my fraternity and in my other so-called secular friendships than I ever found in the first Christian circle I tried to get involved with. Ironically, I saw more "Christ-like" love eminating from the secular people than I ever thought possible.

Secular...such a bad word. As if God somehow isn't among people other than Christians. As if he's not working in them, through them...even if they don't know who He is...yet. How arrogant to make such a distinction.

...

Put this in your head: Dare to give people a chance. Dare to get involved with them in friendship. Dare to walk where they walk. Put their thoughts and ideas into your head. Know where they're coming from. You can jump into their world without jumping into a sin that would drag you down. And they can show you what they need. You may even see Christ in them even if they don't know who Christ is. Yes!

Bottom line is this: You can't be Christ to anyone unless you're there for them. Christ didn't sit at the temple talking to the religious people about how bad the Gentiles were. He went TO the Gentiles. And when he did, he went not only as a teacher or a savior, but as a friend.

...

Now that I think about it, I really miss all those friendships. I miss the surprise in how great they were, since Christian-psychology had told me solid, lasting friendships with non-Christians were doomed to fail apart from Christ. But I also miss being among people where Christ is interested in being. You really want to see Christ work in your life? Then GO where you think he would be working...

You think he'd be the pastor on staff at a church? I don't think so. I think he'd be sitting on the front lawn of the Pi Kapp house on a chair at a party on a Friday night (maybe even sipping a SoCo mixed with Coca Cola)...talking to everyone he could...making friends...and making a difference in the lives of everyone he came in contact with.

No, you protest? But I ask, isn't that the sort of thing he did 2000 years ago?

"Ahh..the searing kiss of hot lead...

...How I missed you. I mean, I think I'm dying." (Apu)


I slept well.

So well, that I forgot to get the garbage out in time for pick-up. Oops.

...

I love this time of year. The weather...the falling leaves (all 10 of them from the one tree in my yard)...the holidays that pass by fast like cars on the interstate. At night, turn on the heat... During the day, turn on the A/C. Just don't forget to switch back, or you're likely to freeze and/or cook all in a 24-hour-period. Maybe I should move to some place like Portland, Oregon where it's more like this all the time.

Anyway...

...

Some guy in a Pontiac Sunfire tried to drag-race me on the Beltline yesterday. At best, 140 horses (him) vs. 220 (me). Still, since I hadn't approached the red light intending to drag race, it surprised me how fast he took off. However, the part of me that still wants to remain a teenager suddenly took over control of the Mazda and made me gun the accelerator. As I started to overtake the guy at around 50 mph, the 'responsible, ticket-fearing' person within me took back over (or tried to), and I decided to have more fun than simply blowing past him. I stayed just behind him (in my lane)...and incrementally kept accelerating...pushing him faster and faster. Every time I slowly started to pass, he'd go even faster. I did this for a while, until I guess he was somewhere in excess of 80 m.p.h. The whole time, I'm in 3rd gear with a LOT of room left on the accelerator...fighting the temptation to exert my own stupidity and "gun it" and pass him. I kept 'pushing' for a while before he had to slow down for the approaching red light. Heh. It's funny to manipulate another person's competitive nature like that.

Funny thing is, he got behind a long line of cars at the red light and I casually passed him at about 35 mph. In my rear view mirror, it was even funnier to watch him swerve in and out of traffic trying to catch back up. Doofus. He never did before I casually made my turn off the beltline.

Strangely, this seems to happen a lot on the beltline. Something's too tempting about all those straight, wide roads between red lights. Funny, the guys with lots of horsepower rarely cause a problem. The Mustangs, Corvettes, BMWs, vintage muscle cars...all those guys...fine...very rarely seen swerving in and out of traffic. Maybe they just feel they have nothing to prove. But some idiot in say...a 2000 Sunfire or a 1989 beat-up Oldsmobuick or 80s model VW Rabbit...will swerve in and out of traffic like Mario Andretti. And they'll scream by at 80 mph (in a 45/55)...only to have to stop at a red light, where you wind up catching back up while they sit and wait. I laugh every time. Especially when it's some puddle jumper some teenager has tried to modify but has only succeeded in making it loud, not fast.

While I'm chasing this rabbit trail, I'll mention a time in Birmingham when a guy in a very beat-up 1970s Datsun 280ZX passed me on a 25mph residential road going about 60. He maintained that speed going into a sharp curve just ahead of me, where he lost control of the car, began spinning, then 'launched' over the curb sideways where he skidded through the grass into some bushes and a brick neighborhood sign. Fortunately, he wasn't hurt. But that's automotive stupidity at its finest.

Hmm...I've digressed about this surprisingly longer than I thought I would. I guess it's a pet peeve to see so much competitiveness and stupidity from people on busy roads. No wonder there are so many fatal accidents on places like Hwy. 20. People pushing cars to do things they were never designed to do...drivers who would be safer behind the wheel of a kids' pedal car than something with a real engine in it.

I realize that I've done stupid stuff, myself...like getting lost and going the wrong way on a one-way street downtown. Ooops. But I realized my mistake immediately and corrected it...fast! And maybe yesterday was stupid...maybe I shouldn't have pushed that guy faster and faster yesterday. I know...I should've just laughed and ignored it... But there's something wickedly gratifying about passing a doofus who was trying his best to outrun you...especially when you pass him going 35 mph as he sits stuck in the long line of cars he only succeeded in catching up to.

Now, if I have time one day...I'll rant about my other pet peeve: People who drive too slow. That may be more epidemic than people who drive too fast. Please, people...55 mph is a privilege. Use it. You don't have to stick at 40 when that nice sign permits you to go faster.

Then again, maybe I should just quit driving.

I'm having a "duh" moment...

*This is actually a real book. I don't know anything about it. It's just funny. Like spirituality can be understood in a "for dummies" book.

A month ago, I was standing in a grove of trees in Granger, Indiana. The leaves were falling, the wind was blowing, the air was chilly, yet I was warm in my sweatshirt and I was enjoying the simplicity of being outside in the "quiet" paying attention to nothing but the beauty of my surroundings.

I was playing 'hooky.' I was supposed to be inside the building adjacent to the grove. I was supposed to be listening to some seminar on how to make a good first impression to people. But I needed to be out here. In the grove of trees. Thinking more about God's impression of me than anyone else's.

For the first time in a long time, I felt "connected." In that moment, God was more than a religious or philosophical concept. More than just an idea. More than this 'entity' that is the subject of so much conjecture, speculation, and criticism. More than books can contain. More than my mind could grasp. More than all the ideas the word "G-O-D" invokes in people. In short, he was simply real.

When you have a moment like this, it's honestly kind of embarrassing. It reminds me of when the teacher would call my name in class to answer some pop-question when I was daydreaming about something else. I'd just look at her, embarrassed, as I felt her eyes and the eyes of my classmates staring at my idiotic expression. I could do nothing but say, "What?" sheepishly. Giggles followed from around the room. I hated myself at those moments. Yet I would go right back to daydreaming.

So it was in the grove. It was as if God had asked me to get up and come to the chalkboard to work on an algebra equation, but I hadn't been paying attention.

Actually...I can't explain it without using a metaphor like that. Such is the way of spiritual moments. If I could explain exactly what happened, I feel I'd reduce the experience to something less than it was. But I can say this: Suddenly being aware of God often makes you painfully aware of yourself.

So there I was. God and me. Caught. Suddenly, I felt painfully embarrassed. Ashamed of the things in my life that I keep hidden...secret. The sins that haunt my everyday life...and my past. Things I tell no one. Things I think are safely out of sight if I can just put on a good face and fake having my act together. Not sin as a religious label to my nature or stupid things I do. Not a catch-phrase. But sin as in, "things that suck the joy and peace out of my life" kind of sin. Pain. Guilt. Hopelessness.

As I was walking through the grove, I looked up at the tall trees. Beautiful as they swayed in the wind. But I couldn't help but notice this one big, dead tree in the middle of all the living ones. And, right then, I thought, "That's me." I blend in. I stand tall. But I feel so 'dead' sometimes in the midst of so much life. I'll remain standing until the wind blows me down...or the harsh reality of rot takes over and time eventually leads to my demise.

Again, a metaphor.

And in this moment...I prayed, "I don't want to be that tree."

I want to be alive. I want to be free of things that hang around my neck like a noose.

And in that moment, suddenly I did feel very much alive. Reborn. Loved. Re-connected. And this 'un-namable' experience has been the subject of many of my recent blog entries.

But now...a month later, I'm struggling again. Sure, everything from illness to lack of sleep to the stresses of everyday life have caught up with me. But that's not it.

The problem is with the guy in the mirror. He's really a jerk. He's so concerned with himself sometimes that he too easily gets caught up in selfish things. He's greedy. He's callous. He's lazy. He's weak. He's carnal. He's capable of things I never knew he would be capable of.

It's been a month since my 'grove' experience. Here I am...safely back in my personal rut of existence...away from the discerning eyes of that God who encountered me in the grove. Here, it's easy not to look at myself. To ignore who I am. To imagine that God is now distant now that the experience in the grove has passed.

So here I am. At my "duh" moment. The question is still there: "Kevin, which tree are you?" Alive? Or dead? And I want to scream out loud, "I want to be alive."

Usually, at this point I try to think of how to generate some 'application' out of what's happening. Like..."I've had this revelation, so here's what I'm going to do now."

Not this time. This time, it's not that easy. I don't have that deep 'encounter with God' thing going that I did in the grove. This time, it's just an encounter with myself. And I'm still embarrassed. And all I can say is this: It's easy to pretend. It's easy to forget the s*** that we dump into our lives and try to ignore. It's easy to focus on what we do that's good as if it outweighs all the things that are not good. But...spiritual growth of any kind...doesn't really happen until we're willing to expose all that crap for what it is. To get it out in the open. The spiritual equivalent of indecent exposure.

After all, how can we honestly overcome the dark aspects of our lives if we're not even willing to face them head on?

To ignore the flaws is hypocrisy. To flaunt them is arrogance. But to wrestle with them...that is, at least, the right place to start.

No more pills for me

Okay, so I haven't gotten much sleep lately, right? For whatever reason, I've not been sleeping well off and on for a few months now.

So...

Last night I borrowed a Lunesta from Stacey. Lunesta...the sleeping "aid" advertised in those goofy commercials where the luminescent moth flies from sleeping person to sleeping person at night. Ahh...so peaceful, it seems.

On the surface, it worked. I slept. Almost the whole night. Woke up once, but was able to go right back to sleep.

But there is a downside.

A dark side.

First, as I'm falling asleep, the medicine began to leave a NASTY taste in my mouth. Stacey warned me that would be a side effect. Okay, it's tolerable. If it works, I can't taste anything.

I fall alseep.

Now things go downhill. I start having the weirdest dreams. The one that sticks out the most is one I'm going to call "Heavy E, mass murderer."

Though the details are lost on me, I know I'm driving somewhere with E in someone's car. He asks which way to turn, and I start to answer. He suddenly interrupts me, screaming, "Shut the f*** up" and tells me to get out of the car. (Weird, since I was driving...but in the dream, you just do stupid stuff...so I got out of the car).

Next thing I know, he's out of the car and attacking some dude in a suit on the street corner, while yelling..."Someone bring me my bonesaw!" over and over.

In my dream, I yell out, "Eric, I thought you were that guy's friend," to which E responds, "Just shut up and bring me my f****** bonesaw" as he keeps hitting the guy with something that looks like a drum stick.

Even weirder, I start searching the trunk of my car to find a bonesaw. I don't find one amidst all the skulls in the trunk.

Stupid skulls. Always in the way.

Anyway, in the next part of the dream I'm driving by what looks like the church I grew up in, though it seems out of place. Like a bizarro version of my hometown. E's gone now, but people are lining up to go to church. I'm just afraid they'll find the skulls in my car (which I have no idea where they came from).

E (suddenly re-appearing) tells me to relax and that everyone has skulls in their trunk.

Then he just hold up a bonesaw and smiles as he stares at the long line of people going to church. He simply says, "Pull over."

At that point I snapped awake...thinking I ought to call the police or something. Gradually, reality settles back in and I go back to sleep.

No more Lunesta for me.

Or no more playing F.E.A.R. on my PC for a while....

Yikes.

E, please don't kill me.

Brainstormed

My brain is fried.

Like chicken.

I wanted to sit down and reflect on some things I left church thinking about this morning.

But alas.

Instead, the thoughts going through my head only make up a confusing collage of ideas about sound problems (why my amp couldn't be heard this a.m.), cold weather, the coming week, band schedules, playing F.E.A.R. on the PC, and why 8:00 on a Sunday morning is so difficult.

Also, I've got this funky pain in my right arm. My whole forearm aches. Now I have a thought running through my head about getting old.

Blue Collar Comedy Tour is on TV. Larry the Cable Guy. I've been laughing. I've also been explaining jokes to Stacey. Stacey, "Here's your sign."

Just kidding.

Sad thing is, another week starts in just a few hours. There's a lot on my plate this week. Hopefully, this dazed/confused feeling I have tonight will pass.

One of my cats just sneezed.

Alrighty then.

Sup with this?

The Root noted last week that it seems we live in a time of unprecedented natural disasters...most of which seemed to have all happened in the past year.

The two events that stand out the most are:

- The tsunami which killed a quarter of a million people after Christmas last year.
- The earthquake in Pakistan. The death toll has topped 79,000 (as of this morning).

Throw in a record-setting hurricane season in the U.S. (and related flooding in New Orleans and the Northeast), it's a bit scary. Last year was bad enough (Frances, Ivan, etc.) This year is worse. Dennis, Katrina, and Rita caused severe damage. Tammy caused the NE flooding. And Wilma is now poised to hit Florida. For the first time since 1933, they've exhausted the list of names for hurricanes in one season. If another storm forms, they start using Greek letters to name the storms (and there are several weeks left in the hurricane season).

I don't know if this all means anything. I'm not an "end times" kind of person who reads into natural events like these. Still, it IS kinda scary to see these things happening...and that a couple of these events (the tsunami and the Pakistan earthquake) have ridiculously high death tolls.

I guess I just don't want to be the person sitting here in the illusionary safety of my own home feeling safe and sound yet having no compassion or awareness for what's happening around the world. My biggest gripe is that gas prices have gone up. Relatively speaking, it's a silly gripe. Sure, it's a headache...and that kind of thing really impacts you when you're on a tight budget. But..at least for now...I still have my home, my family, and haven't lost 79,000 or 250,000 (or even just a mere 1100) of my neighbors and family.

It's something worth thinking about.

Noteworthy...

Alrighty...

Lately, I've intentionally stayed away from 'what I did this week' blog posts, mainly because I figured anyone reading this stuff would care less.

But for the 1-3 people out there who actually do care...I might as well mention a few things.

- The camping trip last weekend was great. Perfect weather, great hiking, beautiful scenery, good company, and food WAY above par for a camping trip...thanks to Dale B. We ate good, laughed at stupid jokes, stood in awe at the majesty of God's creation, and wore ourselves out as fat people who hike tend to do.

- Stacey is surving a tidal wave of work issues. Fortunately, it seems that the insane people she's been dealing with are bailing out...and the future is pretty promising. In the meantime, however, her work week is a soap opera of issues that simply do not belong in a professional environment. Still, I'm glad she's toughed it out and it seems to be she'll be the last one standing when all's said and done. Good for her...

- Spent a good portion of tonight putting Philip's advice into practice during band rehearsal. I raised my amp up on a stand (moving it closer to me)...and Jack and I both used the line-outs on our electric guitar amps instead of mic'ing them with the SM-57s as we've done for a long time now. Dave showed up and applauded the fact that it seems the sound guys will finally have some control over the guitar volume.

There...that's it. Nothing philosophical/spiritual. Nothing deep. Just blah-blah about my life.

But sometimes it's these details of life that mold the rest of it. The camping trip was reviving. Stacey's work situation weighs on both of us. And dealing with the sound issues helps overcome a minor frustration that's been nagging at me for years.

After all, it's also in the real-world where all the things I say I believe and aspire to be either get put into practice or they don't.

Positioning

I could build a wall. Keep it all out. Hide. Never expose myself to anything beyond my front door. Stay on the inside. Lose touch deliberately. Avoid polluting myself. Make them my enemy. Making a stand "against" the world.

-or-

I could rush out the front door. Forsake everything I believe. Dive in with both feet and never look back. Become like everyone else. Becoming "of" my world.

-or-

I could try to conquer it. Waltz out the front door and demand that the world change to accommodate me. Demand that everyone line up their perspectives with mine. Rally supporters who will further my cause. Try to rule from "above" the world.

-or-

Just sit here on my butt. Confused. Not knowing what to do. Stay in, or go out? Lose-Lose situation. Stay inactive by default. Paradox unresolved.

-or-

Stick to my guns AND go out. Dare to engage, yet still remain true to who I am. Learning their language, while speaking the truth. Caring, not controlling. Finding out, not fearing. Helping, not hating. Meeting, not maligning. Dialogue, not indoctrination. Going out, not selling out.

Transform my world...one small piece at a time.

Less Filling

Why are you here, I keep thinking as I stare out at the crowd.
To get your fix and leave?
To do your duty and move on?
Because you don't know how else to spend your Sunday mornings?
Because you don't like Sunday morning newstalk shows on TV?
Because you've been everywhere else and we're the only place that "sorta" fits?
Because you lived rough during the week and want to 'get right' at least once before you start over?

What does this all mean to you, I start to think.
Am I just perpetuating empty spiritual exercises?
Am I alone in wondering, 'where's the passion?'
Am I alone in wondering, 'is this all there is?'

Where does real passion for God come from? I don't mean that, "Oh, sure, I've got passion, so I'll serve with children once a month" kind of passion. I mean that passion that completely drives us...consumes us...envelopes our thoughts...shakes us to life...moves us to act...and causes joy to overflow and sorrow for the lost to overwhelm...

That kind of passion. Not to just come and sit and learn and sing and talk with friends. But to acknowledge there is nothing more important than this thing in the entire world. Not the service. Not the building or the scripted things onstage. But the encounter...our relationship with God...a relationship that ought to be invigorating us to reach people, to tear down barriers, to nearly jump out of our chairs with joy in knowing we're loved by God and can be used by God. Radical is a good word.

Passion that won't tolerate petty frustrations or arguments or malfunctions among friends. Passion that overcomes and works through disagreements on how to do things. Passion that drives forgiveness and real communication. Passion that won't guilt-trip, condemn, or allow anger to fester too long...ever. Passion that drowns out the things in life that try to drown us from the inside out...

I don't even know how to say it...all this is just more talk.

As always, I just want this whole thing to be real...for all of us.


I want to smash the windows. The congregation's asleep.
I want to feel the wind blow and let the spirit free.
I can't, I can't stand to sit there where their God is pocket-size.
I want to feel what's real and will not compromise.
This rage I blaze inside me
Into the empty sky out there,
When I feel that sorrow burning like a rescue flare,
I fear there's nothing to believe in. Nothing that would care.
And the fire of desperation,
That's my silent prayer.
That's my silent prayer.
That's my silent prayer.

- David Wilcox (folk guitarist), "Silent Prayer"

Trial by fire

You ever notice that when you're working hard to get on track with anything, that it seems the odds stack against you?

I don't know what to call what I've been desiring lately...words just don't describe it. Maybe spiritual revitalization...rebirth...revival...awakening...passion... All of these, yet none of these words describe what I want to see happening in my life and what I believe has been started.

Whatever this un-name-able thing is, all my efforts took a difficult turn today. Monday hit in true form...worse than normal. The day began okay, though I was feeling the effects of yet another night where sleep seemed elusive.

The normal snafus were in place: Potential scheduling conflicts, surprise bills in the mail, crying kids...though these things are pretty routine.

On the other hand, some things have happened lately (which I won't elaborate about here) that have really got my mind racing. In the midst of so much goodness happening in my life, the floodwaters of problems (or potential problems) have already begun seeping under the doorway into my world.

On top of this, my creativity (a job requirement) became stifled. Such is always the case when my head is filled with distracting thoughts - no room left for imagination. At least not the kind of imagination that doesn't merit an R-rating for violence.

Then came the headache. Not a pounding headache, but the kind of dull throb that feels as if the pressures of the world were given physical form and inserted into the space where my frontal lobe meets the inside of my skull.

...

My humanity recognizes this as weakness. My soul recognizes it as a form of spiritual attack. Either way, I've let crap get to me. I'm not thick-skinned enough. I dwell too much on the B.S. happening around me. And my desire to see Christ/be Christ has met its first real challenge...and surely not the last. And here is where the mettle of my determination is put to the test...

So many times today I've wanted to throw up my hands and scream... Or just lay down and go to sleep until Tuesday. Or cry out sarcastically, "Thanks God...thanks for this lousy day. Why now?"

But each time I want to throw in the towel, this thought keeps going through my head: "If I want to see Christ, I need to be Christ. If I want to be Christ, then I need to see Christ." Just two weeks ago, hearing this phrase spoken...and reading it in a book...shook something inside me back to life...

...

So now...what does that mean when I'm no longer swept up in the moment of epiphany? What does it mean when things really start to get tough? Does it mean adopting that stupid, fake Enzyte-Bob smile worn by so many Christians pretending to be happy because they're supposed to be but aren't?

No.

Somehow...without it feeling sappy or symptomatic of a martyr complex...I now realize that I did see Christ in my day. I saw his suffering. And it made me laugh at the things I call "suffering."

It's so easy to dismiss these days as spiritually-draining. Yet, ironically, it's during these days I'm most reflective...and more aware of my own pitiful existense as a human being. In short, it's these days that prove to me my need for God and for grace and for something more than these 70 or so years I'll call my life.

It's that Gethsemane moment of awareness that even this un-name-able rebirth/revitalization/awakening thing happening in my life will be a tough road...

But I'm beginning to realize that the tough roads are more Christ-like than easy ones. Why? His life was filled with joy, but the road was always tough...and he faced some horrific tough times, to say the least.

It's easy to find joy on a good day when the sun's shining, I don't have a headache, and everything works like clockwork. But it's much harder to find joy on days like today. But as I sit here, thinking about everything, I managed to somehow see Christ in the midst of it... Maybe it wasn't the Jesus sitting happily under a tree telling stories to children. Maybe it was the bloodied, beat-up, crucified Christ...

But in that image of suffering, I see hope...and I see how much love was given to me.

If I'd recognized this earlier, maybe I could've turned the day around...If I'd recognized Christ in my midst at that moment, maybe I would've been more successful at "being" him...instead of wallowing in my own self-pity.

I suddenly feel very ridiculous.

Now, I'm reminded I'm usually looking for Christ in all the wrong places. Or at least...with all the wrong expectations. I've swallowed that faulty Christian presupposition that the only real encounters with Christ are happy and fuzzy experiences. Arrogance run amok.

Now I'm aware (again) of how many barriers really keep me from seeing Christ...how it's not so much the circumstances around me, but me.

This awareness keeps hope of my ongoing, indescribable revival...alive.

Thank you, come again...Shalom!

Cooler weather seems to FINALLY be here. Even the blast of hot air we're supposed to get Wednesday won't be enough to deter my excitement that fall is arriving.

Heck, it might just be that - being overweight as I am - I'm just not as energy-efficient as I used to be in hot temperatures. So fall seems pretty nice. If I'm smart, I'll take advantage of the cooler weather to get my lazy butt in shape.

Seriously, we sat outside last night out at Jack's house just talking and staring at the fire in his fire pit by the deck. There's something hypnotic about that. Maybe it's the inner arsonist in all of us.

All in all, it was fun hanging out over there...playing a little guitar, eating some burgers, talking about classic cars, and wondering why Eric's house does not, indeed, have a basement when it so needs one.

Anyway...

FUNNY QUOTES:
"Achmed Goldstein"
"Mama says basements are the devil!"
"That car would look better jumping over a creek" (commented about Jared's 70s camaro).

Is anything different yet?

Not really, but sort of...

We still watch too much TV. I still spend too much time playing video games.

Still, my outlook is different.

This week I've been analyzing the 'setpoints' in my life...those things that are just "set" that need to be moved if I'm going to make any real change. That means giving up some things I devote time to, and it's not going to be easy.

And there are obstacles.

Old habits die hard. Plain and simple. And now that many of my ways are "set," it's going to take effort and time to undo them...in every area of my life: My leisure habits, my eating habits, etc.

Also, I'm still not sleeping all that well...I haven't been for what seems like months now. Sheesh. I finally fell asleep around 3:25 a.m. last night...at least, that's the last time I saw on the clock. And I still woke up a few times before I finally stumbled out of bed around 9:00 this morning.

But I'm still resolved to make this happen. Already this week has been more productive in areas that needed to be, particularly preparation for church/worship.

I think the key is to not be selfish. Being selfish and "being Christ" to others simply does not mix. I've got to continue to focus less on meeting my needs and meeting the needs of others. Sure, I need to take care of myself...but too often has that simple desire been transformed into a beast of self-love that devours attention, time, and any resemblance of an easy-going attitude.

...

A conference...dynamic speaking...a movement of the Spirit in my heart...none of these things are 'quick fixes.' In spiritual growth, there is no quick fix.

But you've got to start somewhere...and keep progressing.

I hope that's where I am now.