Report from the doc

I went in this morning and sat in an extremely crowded waiting room, filled with many other pairs of crutches and fellow hobblers. My 9:20 appointment came about 45 minutes late, but after getting x-rayed again and having Dr. Allen look at my foot, I was told to come back in 10 days. Well, it wasn't that harsh; the swelling is still there, though it's come down this past week, but not enough for him to get a good feel for the damage. He told me from what he could tell of the bruising on my foot, there are several ligaments and maybe a tendon that are pretty banged up. I mentioned my hiking trip at the end of July and he told me it was possible, which I was glad to hear. Ligaments and tendons usually take longer to heal, but there's a chance I could do the trek with the proper support, protection and cautiousness, which I use (I can be a wuss). And I know, being cautious is not being a wuss, it's being wise. Wisdom's really getting me far, huh?

The doc also gave me a prescription for some drugs to help with the inflammation, so I'm on my way to pick those up and get them in the system. And then prop my foot up and ice it and try to take it easy. (Napolean sigh.) I feel so helpless. I've also got to find a way to do laundry without throwing my clothes all over our house since I can't carry my basket up and down the stairs. I'm considering asking Anna to help me, not as my intern, but as my sister. If my roommates and I are at the house at the same time sometime the next day or two, I can probably get one of them to help me. I'll have to be careful how many conversations I begin with "I just fell down and hurt my other foot and no one's at the house to help me up."

Some dreams I have

Before I went to sleep last night, I finally wrote down the dream thoughts and ideas for Northside I've been bouncing around in my head for the past several weeks. Our leadership is putting these together to find out where we are and what we thinking, following the 60 days of prayer in April and May. These are the dream statements I submitted.

I dream of joining God in his mission, his plan, and his purposes for our world.
I dream of Spirit-filled lives.
I dream of diversity.
I dream of open-mindedness.
I dream of art.
I dream of expression.
I dream of relevancy.
I dream of leadership and anointing.
I dream of boldness, honesty and faith.
I dream of seeing ourselves in every way for what we are and working with all we have to transform into what God has called us to be, no matter how much it hurts, stings, and causes problems.
I dream of change for the sake of change in order to be relevant, cutting-edge and in tune with our culture so we can relate the love story of God to them in a meaningful way.
I dream of inspiration and equipping.
I dream of community, not an organization being community-like.
I dream of the poor, the hungry, the outcast, the homeless, the dishonest, the dirty, the liberals, illegal immigrants, atheists, Democrats, homosexuals, adulterers, addicts and the other so-called “riff-raff” of society and moving into their neighborhoods and lives instead of bringing them to ours.
I dream of friendships, not agendas.
I dream of working myself out of a job.
I dream of relationships for the sake of relationships, interacting with others because it’s what we’re designed to do.
I dream of conversations, not agendas.
I dream of hope.
I dream of uneasiness, danger, creativity and meaning.
I dream of stepping on toes.
I dream of meeting in homes as primary “church”.
I dream of being persecuted from within because the implementation of our dreams is not at all what the “religious” expect.
I dream of excitement and joy.
I dream of almost anything that doesn’t function/gather/organize like an institution.
I dream of small gatherings with occasional large ones.
I dream of revolution.
I dream of transformation.

Learning to be super

The week before leaving for Zenith, I went with several of the teens to see Batman Begins at the IMAX. What an experience! I'd like to go watch it on a normal screen to find out if some of the fight scenes are a little easier to watch because they were so big and so fast on those five stories I wasn't sure what was going on. I've been told it's not much better on the regular screens, but the movie is definitely worth a second viewing.

I was thinking about Batman Begins and Spiderman, as well as The Incredibles, and one of the aspects that makes them so fascinating: watching the heroes grow into their powers and responsibilities. I loved watching the back story of why Bruce Wayne is intent on fighting crime as he does, as well as the way Christopher Nolan depicts him adjusting and adding different elements to his arsenal as he comes into his own as a hero. Watching Peter Parker learn how to use the webs was humorous and fun. Seeing Dash realize he can run on water when being chased, enjoying his huge smile as it hits him that he can zoom across the surface of water, was such a thrill; his sister didn't catch on to her abilities as quickly as he did, but was being prepared for a bigger purpose each time so that at the very end, when the whole family needs protection, she was able to provide it.

Continuing to think about Jesus learning to be compassionate and caring and merciful, I think about his followers learning to be like him, learning to use his power and his Spirit. We should be coming into our own as well, learning the ropes to be prepared for service and fulfilling God's mission. I wonder if God enjoys helping us come into our own as much as I enjoy watching Batman and Spiderman come into theirs; I wonder if he giggles when I try to escape from a rooftop without a cape, flinging myself into the air stretching for a fire escape. Or if he, in a loving way, snickers a bit when I learn something new, like Spiderman swinging through a city for the first time. I wonder if it's kind of like listening to little kids pray when he hears us: there's such humor to what they ask for, not because it's dumb or stupid, but because of the blatant honesty and expression in their words, which is appreciated and refreshing to hear.

And God is so understanding of it all; he knows our limits as well as our capabilities; he knows what to expect from us, knows how to push us in gentle, guiding ways. He longs to see us succeed and is working to make us do so, unlike me watching a movie -- I've got no say in what happens to Batman, no matter how much I want him to succeed. I've got to believe that God is longing for good to come from me, that he is working with all his might and energy to bring out good in what I do and all around me. If I don't believe that, I'm missing his very essence. This belief allows for Satan's attacks to come, as well as for God's discipline to mold and shape. Fundamentally, though, it's so important to recognize God's goodness and love before anything, instead of skipping over it like I've done before. Everything else tends to make a little more sense through that lens, though mystery still surrounds it.

All that to say, I want to run on water like Dash; I want to learn to "fly" like Spiderman; I want to learn to make and use gadgets like Batman; more than anything, though, I want to learn to live like Jesus: to pray like he did, to love as he did, to care and touch like he did, to inspire and challenge as he did. I want to learn those ropes, to learn those ways of being. I'll need his patience to do so, but he's more than willing to provide that. As well as the times to practice.

With my bum ankle, I'm learning stillness and rest and patience. I'm trying to figure out where, why and how to apply it all, but I realize that may not come into focus for a while. There could be so many different reasons for me being limited to a wheelchair this week at VBS; there are probably many reasons for what's to come in the next few weeks, for me and others. I don't know. I'm trying to figure it out, but not to the point that I'm going to drive myself crazy. I'm trying to be aware and insightful and go from there, longing to have ears to hear and eyes to see. May it be so with you as well.

Problems with my foot

After detailing the problems I'd been having bumping my head into things, I went on to do so again that very afternoon, but it was an injury the next day that's done me in: I rolled my ankle pretty badly this past Thursday playing basketball. I went to the emergency room and got through in a quick two hours. After x-rays, a doctor told me there is an avulsion fracture of the left fibula, which may or may not of resulted from the injury that day; it could've have been from many of the previous times I've twisted my ankle. The x-ray showed a small bone chip slightly away from the fibula below the ankle; it's tough to believe that that little chip has caused me to have elephantitis on my left foot. The swelling has decreased the past few days, though I'm struggling with being restful.

I've got a doctor's appointment Thursday morning and hopefully I'll find out my recovery time. I'm praying and hoping for four weeks so I can have a doctor's note telling me I can hike a mountain in Colorado with my youth group. We leave July 29 and are planning to hike July 31 -- August 4. Having completed this trip two previous times, I know the rigors of it and the unstable nature of our terrain, paths, and climbs. This is a very special trip for our group and I would hate to not be a part of it, for myself and for the others. I've not approached worry mode about not going and will continue to block those thoughts from my mind; maybe I can wear a sign asking others to not ask me about it either.

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I taught about Mary, Jesus' mother, this past week and some of her encounters with Christ. In studying and preparing for it, as well as teaching it and discussing the thoughts with students, I was continually awaken to the humanness of Jesus, something that never registered with me until I saw The Passion of the Christ, through a couple of flashbacks of Mary's. I asked several questions, like, When Jesus ran off with his friends when he was 8 or 9 to go play in the creek, did Mary have to tell him to go under the water instead of walking on top so the other kids wouldn't freak out? Did she have to ask him to stop hanging out at certain street corners because he was getting a reputation? Did she know that as she bandaged a scrape on his knee it would only take his touch to heal a leper? As she and Joseph held him safe from a passing storm in the night and soothed him with words of comfort, did they know the voice that was then crying would rebuke the waves and winds back to gentleness?

One of the questions I asked a few of the youth ministers at different times last week was, When do you think Jesus started hanging out with prostitutes? Yes, it's a shock-value question, but it emerges from a sincere pursuit of his lifestyle. I don't believe he all of a sudden started hanging out with the "scum" of society when he started his ministry during his final three years on earth. I think it was something he learned to do, learned to care for; maybe Mary taught him how to be inclusive, she probably knowing what it's like to be an outcast with an illegitimate son. It makes me consider Jesus as a learner himself. I'm pretty certain he wasn't born as "pre-packaged Son of Man," meaning he had all abilities (God and man) from the get-go. Surely he learned words and language as we all did; and burned his hand and learned the fire was hot; and experienced the excitement of a girl looking over her shoulder at him with a smile (a female student in one of my classes asked if Jesus liked girls, to which a guy spoke up quickly and said, "He was guy, right?"); the sadness of having something stolen from you; the wrong way to answer a question from mom and dad; learned the secure way to hold a baby. Jesus as a learner gives me hope that I can learn his compassion, his patience, his way with language and words, his service to others -- all in all, his lifestyle.

Could he be a learner and without sin? Aren't those mutually exclusive? Doesn't learning necessitate failing and trying again? I don't know; I'll have to think about it. I hadn't considered that until I wrote it a bit ago. Initially, my thoughts are that, yes, Jesus can be considered a learner and without sin, but I'm not sure of all the ramifications that brings. Whatever conclusion results, it doesn't change who he is: love, mercy and grace, compassion, light, forgiveness, goodness, patience, joy. However it was learned or given, inherited or initiated, he was The Man. The Greatest Man. The Man who gives me hope.

Problems with my head

So, I've had a couple of incidents with my bottom bunk here at camp. As I got in bed yesterday afternoon for a quick nap (that lasted a little longer than quick after what happened), I hit the back of my head on a bar underneath the top bunk, near my occipital lobe. (Just wanted to throw that in to prove I did learn something from majoring in psychology.) As much as it hurt, I began laughing at myself pretty hard because of what I did. And because it hurt.

Then, last night after I got in bed, I woke up at 3:30 like I was late for something. I shot up and scraped the top of my freshly shaven head (not bald, but close) on one of the bed-spring-things underneath the top bunk -- that top bunk is going to get it here in a bit. I've got an inch-long scratch on the top left of my skull, but it's not deep; it just looks painful. This morning in the shower it stung, but that's been the extent of the pain. Along with the leftover allergic reaction to the flea bites I got two weeks ago, this is yet another sign pointing me to being a sideshow in a circus. Look for me coming to your town soon.

I'm off to play a little soccer with some teens. Camp continues to go well; the Spirit of God is speaking great things through his men and women here this week. I'm touched to see my teens touched by his movings. May it continue...

Nice surprise

There's a computer in the lobby of the dorm I'm staying in this week that allows me access to the internet, so since I was headed to catch a quick nap and had the option of writing a bit, I've chosen this -- dinner, too, can wait.

Camp's gotten off to a great start. The spirit of Zenith, from youth minsters to counselors to teens, is so exciting and anticipatory of God's working. In talking with most of my teens this afternoon, they've already been touched and challenged through the morning class times, which is so good to hear. A few of my guys brought Dance Dance Revolution and set it up on the big screen in the Student Center on campus and sweated it out this afternoon; that's so amusing to watch. I'm glad for the variety of times this camp offers for the teens: time for reflection, sharing, learning, being challenged, for fun and refreshment, activity and quiet.

I don't get much sleep during this week for a couple of reasons. One is because there's a lot to do during the day and evening and we stay pretty busy. With curfew being at 11:00 and lights out at 11:45, there is some policing that gets done to make sure everyone is following the guidelines and getting rest. The other reason is that I stay up after all that talking with others on staff until early hours of the morning. My friends Benny and Niki are here and catching up with them, as well as so many others, requires time that the daylight does not afford. And the conversations are so rich with encouragement, insight, blessing and joy, as well as venting, sharing frustrations, and expounding on life. Which is why I love this week so much: I spend rich time with my teens and know they are surrounded by God's Spirit and I spend rich time with fellow workers in similar circumstances and mindsets. Thank God for Zenith.

I don't know if I'll take the chance to post each day, but I may try to do an update throughtout the week. God bless.

I've been thankful for this past week between Work Camp and Zenith. Last summer, there were only three days between the two, with a Brazil trip waiting a week later, so the sense of rush has been absent in comparison. Yet things continue to happen and occur regardless of how booked my brain already is.

My ankles are healing from my allergic reaction to the flea bites I received almost two weeks ago. The house that my crew worked on was infested with fleas even though a pest control guy had sprayed twice before we arrived. As I was doing the walk-through (alone, thankfully) I got jumped, getting covered from my lower shins to my shoes with fleas. I brushed them off as best I could, but was left with at least 40 bites per leg. Then the reaction occurred. My skin bubbled up around several of the bites to ward off infection, causing my feet to look as if I'd glued globs of jello to them. They've since been popped and medicated, leaving me looking like I've got cigar and cigarette burns.

Death has been another uninvited guest. Last Friday I attended the funeral of the grandfather of two of my teens, the dad of one of my youth deacons. Though expected, it happened in the middle of Work Camp and still stung the family. This past Wednesday, I attended the funeral for the wife of one of our shepherds, who serves as our staff elder. Sharon had been racked with illness and sickness for a while; she and Charlie came back early from a vacation with their whole family only to have her go to the hospital with pneumonia and then take a sharp turn for the worse. The love Charles has for his bride of 52 years is staggering. When I hugged him last Sunday in the foyer before class, he told me through a sob and wail, "She was my sweetie." He adored her and my heart hurts for him.

Two more deaths were made known to me at the beginning of this week, both with Florence ties. One of my neighbors in high school died in a canoing accident. He was 24 years old. It was so strange reading the article about him online -- "man dies in river accident." I still think of someone older than me when I read that in a paper, finding it bizarre that I'd be listed the same way. I don't remember the last time I saw Will. His Dad coached my 7th-9th grade basketball teams at school and was one of my middle school Bible teachers and high school History teachers. Also, the girlfriend of a friend I went to high school and college with died. They'd dated off and on for the past five years; she was not one to be involved with drugs, but died of an overdose. I talked briefly with Chad (before my phone signal died) and he sounded wiped out. He was getting ready for the visitation, gathering pictures for a slide show on no sleep from the previous night.

Being distanced from Florence leaves me with a surreal feeling about Will and Ashley's deaths; even Luke, who was able to drive home for Will's funeral, said it didn't seem real. I understand death being a part of life, but I still hurt for those who are left with feelings of emptiness, bitterness, confusion, hurt and questioning as to the why of it all. I don't want to magically evaporate those feelings because they're needed to be experienced to grieve and go through this time; I think it's more of a reminder that this is not what we were created for -- we were not made to die. And though we do, we are being re-created for something more than this, something beyond the sting of death, something eternal, pure and holy. And I want that longing to leave all those touched by these occurences to breathe confidence in the midst of grief, to stir hope within that something beautiful is on the horizon, a kingdom of love is breaking through.

The Spurs proved disappointing this week. I was hoping for a sweep for the mere hopes that a River Walk parade would be held today so I could attend. I guess I'm left hoping for a seven-game series, which would finish Thursday night, allowing the possibility that I could attend the event when we get back from camp. My frustration with the way they've played the past two games does not merit words in this space.

I was touched with a bit of a cold mid-way through the week and it's snuck up on me again last night and this morning. It's only congestion and a slight cough, but I'm really irritated by it because I don't want to be affected by it this coming week of camp. I don't need to lose my voice; I don't need to be bothered by medicine. But, I'm getting rest, drinking orange juice and taking some medicine, so please don't worry about me. And I'm sure there will be plenty of people watching out for me at Zenith to make sure I don't get worse.

As negative as this post has been, the past week wasn't all bad. Our youth group did some hiking in preparation for Trek on Sunday evening; I'm really excited about that trip and look forward to continuing to cut my hair every two weeks to keep it this short. I had a great guys' night Monday night at Alamo Cafe and Coldstone; great conversations and thoughts and insights to what's been going on in our lives. Tuesday evening I got to hang out with a couple of friends from out of town, which was very enjoyable. And the more I read Searching for God Knows What, the more peace and patience I have in the midst of his mystery.

So I step into this next week with great anticipation of God-thingss to come, especially for my teens. Zenith is such a special week; the youth ministers I work with to plan and run this camp are special people whose hearts overflow with the joy of the Lord. It is so good for me to be included in this time. I pray earnestly that the Spirit of our living Savior will inspire the kids going with me, as well as the others at camp this week. I pray for the teachers and speakers, and the small group leaders to be filled with energy and love for God's children. May his patience, wisdom and grace rest mightly on us. May we continue to be transformed into his image. Instill in us your desires; allow our hearts to overflow with your love.

I'm hoping to continue writing this coming week, but will probably not have a chance to post any of it; I'll be in one of my three current journals. Luke's been keeping a good record of his adventures so far on his blog, so I point you that way if you stop by here and find nothing. He was in Georgia for a bit before going back to Florence for the funeral and class reunion too, but should be back on track Monday.

We continue to live in a larger context of activities we do not see.

Adam as a naturalist

I picked up and started reading Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller, the author of Blue Like Jazz. It's been a fascinating read, especially his way of thinking about the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve, and nakedness. The fifth chapter is titled "Naked: Why Nudity is the Point" and it may be one of the best chapters of book I've read in a while. I've reread it several times since the initial reading. And here's why:

Miller speculates that it could have taken Adam 100 years to name all the animals. Just because Moses, the generally agreed-upon author of the first five books of the Bible, moved from God telling Adam to name the animals to creating Eve doesn't mean it followed directly afterwards. This thought struck him when he was hiking in Yosimite Valley, what he considers the most beautiful place on the planet. He was reading through Genesis as well as the journals of the guy who came up with the glacier theory explaining Yosimite's shaping. It struck him that it took that guy his lifetime to develop that theory and its ramifications, studying some many different things to come up with a name/label and explanation for it.

From this, he wondered about Adam's studying and labeling of the animals, speculating that he explored Eden, possibly a vast continent, to carry out this command from God. I'm not sure how to fit this with the wording of the text, which says God brought them to the man to be named; but I guess just beause they were brought to him doesn't mean he didn't go to them a bit either. I guess he could have gone to the sea to have those creatures brought to him. Anyway, the idea of Adam exploring the continent, studying creation to name the creatures is very wild, very much like the heart God's given men. Miller goes on to write about this being a process of Adam realizing no suitable helper was made for him; as he continued to name each creature, there was not one found to be his helpmate, which had to be extremely discouraging.

"It is a striking thought to realize that, in paradise, a human is incomplete without a host of other people. We are relational indeed (page 67)."

After this process of interacting with God's creatures, God puts Adam to sleep. And he wakes to find someone that is "bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh."

"The idea of another person had, perhaps, never entered Adam's mind. Just like a kid who grows up without a father has no idea what a father would be like, a guy who grows up the only human would have no idea what having another human around would be like. So here was this guy who was intensely relational, needing other people, and in order to cause him to appreciate the gift of companionship, God had him hang out with chimps for a hundred years (page 65)."

And what an incredible discovery Eve was. The epitome of God's creation, made specifically for Adam. Miller then writes two fantastic lines that are underlined in my copy of the book:

"And then I thought how very beautiful it was that God made Adam work for so long because there is no way, after a hundred years of being alone, looking for somebody who you could connect with in your soul, that you would take advantage of a woman once you met one. She would be the most precious creation in all the world, and you would probably wake up every morning and look at her and wonder at her beauty, or the gentle, silent way she sleeps (page 66)."

He goes on in the rest of the chapter to talk about Adam and Eve being naked and how Moses kept mentioning that and how it had to mean something, something important. This is the conclusion to which he comes:

"Man is wired so he gets his glory (his security, his understanding of value, his feeling of purpose, his feeling of rightness with his Maker, his security for eternity) from God, and this relationship is so strong, and God's love so pure, that Adam and Eve felt no insecurity at all, so much so that they walked around naked and didn't even realize they were naked (page 70)."

It's so telling, with this thought in mind, that the very first thing the two of them do after being deceived is to make clothes for themselves. How crushing it must have been for God to experience that kind of rejection; the glory he was providing somehow didn't seem enough for them. Even today, it doesn't seem enough for us, does it?

But I long to return to that kind of interaction, that kind of security, that kind of relationship with him. To walk in the cool of the day with him; to marvel with him at the beauty of a woman; to gasp at his sunsets; to swim in his oceans; to journey through his mountains; to be overwhelmed by pure love. That's where we're going; that's what's ahead. And it's not about the nakedness of skin, but the vulnerability and confidence of heart that our name, identity and being is given by and derived from the Maker, who has created us in his image for his glory and joy. And preparations are now being made for our return to glory.

The day before the birthday

This is ridiculous. Two years in a row I've been a day early in wishing Dad a happy birthday. June 7 is the day, not the 6th. Don't ask why. Possible explainations:

1. I woke up at 5:15 to get going for Work Camp after going to bed at 12:30.
2. I was overly worried about not getting a chance to post something that I jumped the gun a bit much.
3. When summer activities kicked-off Sunday night with Work Camp, I began the annual exodus away from knowing what day, date and time it is in the present.
4. I'm getting old.

Regardless of the day, I meant everything I wrote about Dad.

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I've totaled up our expenditures so far and got a check ready for deposit, with a couple of more bills to write checks for -- I serve as our work camp accountant. Talked with the interns about their day and gave them a few pointers and encouragement. Checked email. Caught up on the blog. Now I have to got to HEB to find something for my flea-bites. Yes, the site my crew is painting was previously infested with fleas. A man came out and sprayed twice in the previous weeks, but today as I was doing a walk-through before we began (and with the teens still on the vans, praise God) I was attacked. Usually after a day of work camp, there is a dirt ring around my ankles corresponding to my sockline; this evening, along with that ring of dirt there exists a ring of bites as well. They don't hurt too bad; it's just kind of bothersome.

Oh, and then I've got to go to sleep.

Have a beautiful day.

Happy Birthday, Dad

Today's my dad's birthday; it's been a while since I've seen him on his actual birthday -- summer schedules really mess that up. I've had some stirring about writing something for him the past several days and I'm trying to steal a few minutes this morning to do so before heading to our work camp.

The more I think about what I want to become as a man, the more like my dad I want to be: godly, loving, committed, faithful, and hilarious are a mere few of the characteristics he possesses. He loves my mom so much and she the same; we're all praying I'll have a marriage like that. My dad's rarely met a stranger and his ease with people of all walks of life is extremely impressive; I only hope to replicate it to some small extent. He's not defined by what he does, mostly because he does so much; but also because what matters is who he is. My friends think I've got a wealth of trivia and facts...I've got nothing on Dad. He's poured so much of his life into Luke, Anna, Bethany, and I that "thank you" is all I can muster to say. He's left on me a permanent impression of Jesus.

For all the things I've left unsaid, chalk that up to not enough time to write and not at all reflecting the deep, deep love and respect I have for my dad. I know God is a good Father because I've been blessed with a dad who imitates Him. Thank you, Dad. I love you.

The devil got a surprise in Georgia

The interns are here; summer is practically here; my time is nowhere to be found.

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As I was listening to the radio this morning driving in, being careful to stop at each light since the storm last night took them all out, I heard "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" and got an unexpected lift of confidence listening to it. In the song, the devil challenges Johnny to a fiddle contest, which he gladly accepts, fully confident that he will beat the devil. At stake for Johnny is his soul -- he loses it to the devil if he doesn't win the contest. The devil offers a fiddle of gold as a prize if he loses -- but it's nothing compared to Johnny keeping his soul and knowing he can be victorious over Satan.

Of course, Johnny wins. He smugly tells the devil, "I told you once you son of a gun, I'm the best there's ever been." That bravado, that confidence, that air of strength is something I believe God wants us to carry with us when he tells us, "Be strong and courageous and do not be afraid." Though bordering on arrogance, I'm choosing to believe this morning that Johnny demonstrates a full-assurance of God's promises to his children; he's told us he'll be with us and we should live like we believe it fully. "The gates of hell will not prevail" against the spreading kingdom of God; against his rule of mercy, justice and love; against his peace, joy and hope; against his instruments and hands and feet.

This doesn't underestimate the work of Satan; it merely opens our minds to the much larger picture that while he will attack and steal, kill and destroy, he will not overcome; he will not reign; he will not be victorious over our God. We have a hero in Jesus who's stormed the gates, rescued the helpless and forsaken, and brought us to the land of the living to join him in continued rescue operations, continued saving ventures, constant transformations and enduring changes of heart. We recognize that Christ is the best there's ever been and by his dwelling within us, we too make the same claim. As the Son of Man, Jesus was the best of humanity; read that to say that if we want to know what a human does, and is, and can aspire to become, we look to the Son of Man. With all seriousness, we too can claim to be the best there's ever been by the power of Christ; not because of ourselves, but because of his Spirit within.

It's very humbling to consider these possibilities. It's odd and humbling to consider these because of a song about fiddles, too. But I'll chalk it up to looking for redemption; I'm looking for signs that he continues to work and move and have his being all around me. So wherever the devil goes, may he be met with confident opposition from the people of God. We possess gifts and talents he'd like to steal and destroy, but by the power of the living Christ we will be victorious. We march into battle ready to fight, not against flesh and blood, but against what we do not see. So we fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith. By his wounds we are healed; by his Spirit we are led and strengthened. With his love, we participate in and expand the reign of God.