it figures...

...that I'd get sick upon returning from a holiday, leaving me just a little more stressed about getting my to-do list done.
...that the Sunday I get to watch the Titans on TV they'd blow a 21-3 lead and lose badly to Houston.
...that my truck didn't magically clean itself while I was gone.
...that my room didn't either.
...that the one game I got to watch Luke play was his only loss for the season so far.

But, really, I'm not in a negative mood. My cold/congestion/fever-type thing feels better at this moment. I got quite a bit accomplished once I got to my office. I'm not as stressed as I thought I'd be. And I don't have anything to do this evening, other than catch up on my BSF. Sometimes, I guess, you need to list the negatives to realize how small they really are.

A quick story to finish this post: I haven't been as excited as I was yesterday morning before class having someone share with me their disappointment with me. One of the high school teen girls told me she was disappointed I hadn't responded to her email. She'd replied to one I sent her about something that'd happened in class a few weeks ago, but I didn't read her response as something she would want me to reply to. Initially, I was embarrassed because of my blunder, but it opened a door to have a conversation before class started about the emails. And it energized me to re-read her reply and shoot an email back to her when I get my thoughts together. I consider it exciting because she placed value in my opinion of her thoughts, as well as curiosity to my thoughts. I don't get that a lot from the teens, especially that obviously. So even though the Titans lost and my nose is stopped up and my room is messy and I'm still not as organized as I'd like to be, I take joy in a thought-provoking conversation and the continued opportunity to exchange thoughts and ideas about this great God who loves us. That conversation provided me with joy that God is using me to draw others to Him.

from home to home

I've always heard, and grown up believing, that home is where the heart is. So tomorrow, as I drive from Florence, AL to Nashville, TN to catch my flight to San Antonio, TX, I will be in three of my homes in one day.

Florence is home: it's where I grew up, have spent the majority of my life, and where my family is based, where Mom and Dad are. It's where Mars Hill Bible School is, where many of the men and women who have helped shaped my life work and continue to prepare kids to be God's people.

But being back in Fortaleza, Brazil this summer reminded me of my six years there, even though I was very young; even so, every time the plane touches down as I've returned on a campaign to Fortaleza, it feels like I'm coming home. There are pieces of my heart in the downtown church, at Herbine's school, with Josemar, Valglessan, Valgemario, the Ingram family, the beaches, and many other people and places.

I think of Nashville as home as well, even though it's been a few years since I lived there. And by living there, I mean going to college there. But I referred to it as home a little over a semester into my Freshman year; I took ownership and made it home. Many more men and women who have helped shape me are at Lipscomb, a place of great nostalgia for me. I consider the Otter Creek church as my home church, a family that challenged and allowed me to grow in so many significant ways. And Nashville in general is nostalgic because of so many great memories.

Now, San Antonio is home. Not only because it's where I live and work, but because my heart is there as well. The Northside church is home: the youth, the families, my shepherds, my co-workers. I'm finding a home, a place of belonging, with a great group of friends I've met through BSF. I'm referring to them as just "my friends" as opposed to my "friends from BSF" -- I don't have a group of friends not from BSF. That group of friends has been an inexpressable joy for me this past year.

I've got pieces of my heart all over the world, four specifically I can call home. Trying to nail down just one "home" would be tough for me; thankfully, no one's asked me to. Though it may sound odd to say, "Now that I've been home for a week, I think I'm going back home," that's what I'm doing tomorrow morning. So I'll go home for a couple of weeks and then return home for another week and a half. And though the verbage may be a bit confusing, I know that I'm going home. And that's pretty cool.

to be a blessing

"God loved the world so much that he gave..." -- John the Apostle

Thoughts from McLaren, mixed with a few of mine:
God did not love Christians, the church, conservatives, liberals, evangelicals, protestants, catholics, buddhists, hindus, muslims, etc. so much to send Jesus. He loved the world. The fleshly, earthly, sin-be-fallen world. The sinful, degraded, messed-up, "God-hating" world. Yes, he loves us, those who claim and wear his name. Yes, he gave for us as well because we are the world. Redeemed, but part of this world. Redeemed and being a blessing to the world. Redeemed and loving the world as God did -- so much, that we give. Abraham was called to be blessed and to be a blessing. We are called to do the same; we forget, though, the second part, which may be the most crucial. It may say more about how much we believe to be blessed.

It's been downpouring this morning in San Antonio. I woke up to a great thunderstorm that kept me in bed an extra hour because these types of thunderstorms require staying in bed a little longer. (It helps that I didn't have to go to work because I'm flying to Alabama for Thanksgiving.) Our roadways around here don't handle rain like this too well. Luckily, the school district I'm in has this whole week off, so there wasn't as much traffic as normal. That would have been an even bigger mess.

I'm looking forward to spending time with my family. I've been blessed the past two years, and now this one, to have the flexibility to travel home for to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with Mom, Dad, Luke, Anna, and Bethany. I'll get to show them my skydiving dvd, as well as all my pictures from that and my excursion to New York.

I'm still trying to figure out how to post pictures...sorry for the delay in that. I can email some out if you'd like to see them. Just let me know. Have a great turkey day and weekend.

Sometimes belonging must precede believing.
-- Brian D. McLaren, More Ready Than You Realize

Such a simple quote and truth, but it's a radical concept when I think of that in terms of faith in God. It's not the model I've been taught or seen practiced a great deal. Now, I have seen this lived out in individual situations, but unfortunately this is not a community practice, which it should be. It's great to believe this on the individual level, but can you imagine what would happen if a community took this on as a mentality. It would only increase and enhance the individual situations and examples.

We should see ourselves as participants at a dance, listening to the rhythms of His Music, inviting others to join us in following His movements, rhythms, and leadings. The dances may not all match, but that's ok. We're called to dance to His rhythm. Invite. Encourage. Engage. Be in conversation. Dance. Challenge. Inspire. Offer an opportunity to glimpse the love of our God in action. And from my experience and knowledge, that glimpse will leave us wanting more.

I started a book earlier this week that's got me very excited. It's one of the four books by Brian McLaren that I bought when I got back from the Zoe Conference. The one I started is More Ready Than You Realize. It turns out, this is the text of the majority of his presentations from the conference, which doesn't bother me a bit because is such good stuff. It follows his correspondence through email with "Alice," the pseudonymn of the college girl McLaren writes back and forth to. He uses her emails to show what postmodern evangelism could look like: what postmoderns find credible in churches and people, what terminology connect and confuses, the art of patience and allowing the Spirit to guide someone into fellowship with Jesus, among so many others. It's not formulaic, though. It's an example; what it shows is the mindset, the attitude, and the expectation that should exist, instead of the methodology. It makes me excited because I know of several Alices in my youth group; several in our congregation, even some working with our youth, are worried about our Alices because they ask weird questions, they don't accept everything they've grown up with, they don't "buy in" to they way God has been presented to them. And you know what, that's ok. It's actually more than fine. They're searching for truth. They're searching for the Creator. In this world, searches take different routes and paths; this book allows me to be excited because it reminds me of that search and who's in charge of this world. It reminds me that I'm a messenger, a messenger who'd better be clued in to the language of the people to which I'm sent. If my message doesn't make sense, it's not the fault of The Message and I'm not going to throw it out. I'll just adapt and find new ways to share the truth.

praying the scriptures

When I get the chance to lead a public prayer, I find myself drawn more and more to using Scripture as the main idea for that prayer. Yesterday morning in our first assembly, I led our praise prayer to begin the service. I paraphrased Ephesians 3:14-21 from the New Living Translation and then added a few of my own words. Not in arrogance, but just to share -- here was (and continues to be) my prayer:


Father God, when we consider the wisdom and scope of your plan, we fall to our knees and pray to you, the creator of everything in heaven and on earth. We pray that from your glorious, unlimited resources you will give us mighty inner strength through your Holy Spirit. And we pray that Christ will be more and more at home in our hearts as we trust in him. May our roots go down deep into the soil of your marvelous love. And may we have the power to understand how wide, how long, how high, and how deep your love really is. May we experience the love of Christ, even though we will never fully understand it. May we be filled with the fullness of life and the power that comes from trusting in you.

Glory be to your name! By your mighty power at work within us, may we accomplish infinitely more than we could ever ask or hope or imagine. May you be given glory in the church and in Christ Jesus forever and ever through endless ages. Amen.

open our eyes

O Lord God, in whom we live and move and have our being, open our eyes that we may behold your fatherly presence ever about us. Teach us to be anxious for nothing, and when we have done what you have given us to do, help us, O God our Savior, to leave the issue to your wisdom, knowing that all things are possible to us through your Son our Savior, Jesus Christ.

Richard Meux Benson (1824-1915)
Taken from The NIV Worship Bible

Institutionality

Thinking out loud:

Studying through Acts in BSF this year, we've come the chapter 15 and the Jerusalem Council. I'm still not sure what to think about it and how to make sense of it in the 21st century. The four things that the Jerusalem church recommends to the Antioch church seem to make sense, but I'm not sure how important or unimportant those things were to the Gentile Christians (un/important is probably not the right term, by the way). And other than abstaining from sexual immorality, I don't know what relevance the other three items would have for us today. And it's kind of surprising to me that those items are what the Jerusalem church thought most pressing for Gentile Christians.

I'm even more in tune to this because we've been talking among the ministers and shepherds about our battle hills, the places we will fight and die. I don't think those four items were battle hills; I don't even know if there was more than one they would've had, involving Jesus. I think we have the tendency to rewrite the Apostle's Creed when choosing our hills. And too many times we draw too many lines. Our concept of church ends up feeling more corporate and organizational than body and community. I don't know what to do about it; the institutionality of the church has been bothering me, while at the same time I think it's the institutionality (if that's even a word) that allows me to have the job I do. But there's a tension there that I'm aware of and constantly trying to figure out.

I showed a video clip Sunday during my sermon featuring Dick and Ricky Hoyt. Their story was told to me at the Zoe Conference this year and presented through a wonderfully emotional video clip of them competing in the IronMan Triathlon. (Click here to go to their website.) Dick has pushed, carried on bike, and pulled his son through many events and competitions because, as Ricky told him at age 15, "when I'm running, it feels like my disability disappears." His father has not only given him the gift of life, but made him feel alive as well.

Thinking about this story reminds me of our Father's love for us and the extremeties He goes to in showing us His love. But it also reminds me of several members of my congregation who have been and are in similar positions as Dick and Judy Hoyt. Neal and Marycke Shaver spent a little over a week in a hospital with their son Alex as he was undergoing testing relating to his seizures (click here to read more about it). Presley and Mae Orsburn raised two disabled children, one who is still living, residing at the DRI house --a wonderful facility-- in Abilene, TX. There are others who've dealt and wrestled with God about why these things happen to children, why they have to endure so much pain, and countless other questions. But they persevere. They continue to love God. They continue to love their children. They sacrifice. They give, not only to their children, but to their community as well. Neal is one of the greatest encouragers Northside has. Presley and Mae always have a kind word to say to me or some good-natured kidding for me (usually about my hair, whether facial or on top) -- and I love it. These men and women are warriors in so many ways. And they inspire me.

Jumping from 13,000 feet

I've just been looking through my pictures from my jump this past Saturday. I'm trying to recall what was going through my mind in each picture; it's pretty obvious by the big, stupid grin on my face I was enjoying every second of it. I was overwhelmed by the beauty beneath me and the thrill of going 120 mph through the sky. Several people have asked me if I was scared about jumping from the plane, or getting hurt, or dying, or countless other things. And I have honestly replied, "No." No fear. There was a bit of nervousness about what it would feel like standing at the door of the plane, looking down 13,000 feet, but no fear.

I knew that I was doing a tandem-skydive: an instructor is attached to my back, well, actually, I'm attached to their front -- they're the ones in control. I knew I would be jumping with someone who'd done this for quite a while, and done pretty well since they hadn't died yet. (There aren't too many different ways to grade skydiving in my book: either you make it or you don't.) Knowing that I would not be resposible for pulling the cord, guiding us down, knowing how to judge the wind and position myself was a great relief and allowed me to truly enjoy the experience. I was going to be with a pro; I was jumping with someone who had done this thousands of times. I was willing to place my life in his hands.

My instructor's name was Rock. He's retired from the Air Force after 21 years of service. This is his job, Friday through Sunday. He makes up to 17 jumps a day, usually averaging 12. He's got a couple of kids who he loves to spend time with and is able to during the week. As my friends and I were putting on our jumpsuits, someone asked him how long he'd been jumping. His reply: "Three weeks." Really? "Ok, more like 14 years." Gotta love instructor humor.

I wish my trust in God was always this true and real. The Author of Life invites me to go skydiving with him. Looking out of the plane, the promise of a safe landing seems so far away. The unknown of the space between the sky and earth is pretty daunting. Sometimes it feels like I've just met the Instructor who's attached to my back -- do I really know him? Is he really qualified? (As Napolean Dynamite would say, "Heck, yes!" -- an interesting statement when relating to God, I guess.) I don't always anticipate the thrill of life as I anticipated jumping from a plane; but the former is filled with so much, including the opportunity to skydive. But it's so much more than that. And the Instructor, as good as Rock was, is the True Rock, my Fortress, Strong Tower, and Refuge. The Author of Life. The ultimate skydiving instructor.

When the parachute was released, there was a pretty big jerk, though not as bad as I thought it might be. And the landing was a lot of fun as well. Several people have told me that those two things are worries for them, pretty much keeping them from experiencing skydiving. And that's unfortunate. Sure, there will be a couple of jerks and pulls on the way down, but it's nothing compared to the thrill of free-falling or making a sharp, nose-dive left turn when testing out the parachute. We don't stop living because painful things happen. It's part of the ride. It's part of the thrill. When I think bak to two days ago, all I think about is that big, stupid grin on my face as I watched the ground get closer and closer while the wind was flying over my face and the floating feeling of free-fall.

A rush. A blast. Incredible. Amazing. A thrill. Words just don't do it justice. Neither do they for life. Especially when you've got its Author skydiving with you.

Surprise Night

As this busy weekend finishes up, I've got a few minutes (but just a few) to recap before I have to get down to the SBC Center for a hockey game for our Surprise Night -- all the high school teens are dressed up, being driven around town by adults, looking for answers to clues that will get them to the game. They don't know what they're doing tonight; all they were told was to show up in semi-formal/formal attire, bring $10, and be ready to have a good time. One of them will even get to ride the Zamboni!

My sermon went well this morning. It was a little strange sharing my thoughts in second service since I felt I was repeating myself, but it seemed to go a little shorter, so I was trying to figure out what I'd left out. Everyone seemed to be touched by the Team Hoyt story -- it's incredible and the video is extremely moving. It was great to hear "thank yous" for making people cry; what a blessing to experience the heart moving like that together with the church family.

And since I'm writing this, you can guess correctly that my skydiving jump was successful. There is nothing I've experienced that is anything like free-falling, especially for 60 seconds. I can't begin to describe it. I'm on my way to pick up pictures and hopefully this weekend I'll find out how to post them; I owe NY pictures as well.

Alright, I'd better get going before they beat me to the game. Isn't it just hilarious to think of 30-something teens showing up for a hockey game dressed like they're going to prom? I'm in a tux, so no one can tell me I'm just trying to make them look silly. I'm in it as well.

Revisionist History

In my church heritage, there is a strong history (not sure if it's command, example, or necessary inference) of forgetting from where we've come. The way things are done today, the views/beliefs held today are stated as if they've been held from the beginning of the movement. The hills of battle have changed repeatedly, but staking a claim as terribly important and pressing. Millinialism, racism, music, kitchens, activity buildings, grace, baptism, carpet, and Bible study or Bible school have all shared time as divisive issues; grant it, some more important than others. Yet I get the impression from the leaders I'm surrounded by that the way we do things now are as they've always been done; there's a hesitancy to admit failures and mistakes of our collective past.

I find apologies for past mistakes and missteps to be a wonderful means of reaching into the past, present, and future. Take racism, for instance. I am a graduate of Lipscomb University in Nashville, Tennessee. Well into the 1970s, there were still segregated bathrooms AT A CHRISTIAN INSTITUTION! A person of color was not allowed to enroll until that decade. How sad for them; how sad for my school. I don't know if an apology has been offered; it may very well have. If there were to be an apology, whether through a press release, press conference, or assembly of sorts, the current students at the university might find it odd. There's a good chance that the ones who were discriminated against may not even hear the apology. But those that do would have the chance to come face to face with a wrong from the past, the acknowledgement of its wrong in the present, and the promise of it being corrected and changed as we go into the future. (I know this has taken place at other Christian universities.)

Our churches need to make sure that we are open to this type of honesty. Too many times, we seem to be like an ostrich with its head in the sand, oblivious to the hurts, cares, and disillusionment of the world around us. Thankfully, I'm living in a time that many of those heads have come out of those holes and are shaking the sand out of our eyes and ears. This a great step to take, but we've got a ways to go on our journey.

I don't want to get rid of my heritage. (Even if I did, I can't.) I am who I am today in large parts because of it. I'm thankful for those who've gone before me. I want to connect with them, and those even farther back. But I desperately want to connect with this generation presently, and prepare us to connect to the following generation in the future. I want to participate in the eternal Story: past, present, and future.

And if you don't vote?

6:15 am Wake up and say goodbye to Ted and Calin (Kuh-LEEN), Romanian friends of Malachi's who've been visiting the past few days; they flew to New York for a conference before heading back to Romania next week.
6:21 Will and I take off on our morning run. We've been jogging a couple of miles a couple of times each week. The cold front finally came through, which meant the wind was in our faces most of the run.
7:00 After getting back from the run and cooling down a bit, I go to Hardy Oak Elementary School to vote.
7:30 My precinct, 3197, is not voting at Hardy Oak; instead, I'm supposed to be at Stone Oak Elementary.
(Note: I moved into my current residence, 915 Hedgestone, in April and misplaced my voter's registration card. So I was going on the precinct listed on Malachi's card.)
7:40 I get back to the house and clean up, gather my things, and head to Stone Oak.
8:03 Arrive at Stone Oak to a much shorter line.
8:11 Show my driver's liscence to the gentleman at the table, but he can't find my name and tells me I must be at the wrong place.
8:14 I head back to Hardy Oak, thinking I must've been at the correct place that first time.
8:18 The line is much shorter than earlier. I give my address to the gentleman to find out which of the two lines I should be in.
8:21 He comes back and tells me I should be at Stone Oak Elementary.
8:22 I realize when I got a new driver's liscence with my new address that I must not of registered to vote as I thought I had.
8:23 I wonder whether I should tell anyone about this or not. I feel there are many people I know who might consider this a sin. I'll take my chances I guess. David Lipscomb, though, would probably be proud.

Church and Culture

Brandon Scott Thomas posted a wonderful article last night from a church leader at an anonymous congregation. The thoughts expressed are what I dream of Northside setting forth as a vision, taking our place in God's redeeming work in this world. Not that we're not doing that right now; but I know I've got a ways to go to shape this youth ministry to achieve His Kingdom work in the lives of families at Northside. But the following is what I'm striving for:

Life becomes less about me and more about God and you. The world becomes less a frightening place to be fought against and more the creation of God desperately in need of both the good news we are called to embody, and reconciliation in it’s broken relationship with a God who is madly in love with it