2 in 40-something

Did everyone enjoy the extra hour of sleep Saturday night? Or did you get caught in the trap of trying to extend that extra hour into five? I know I've slept very well the past couple of nights due to that trap, as well as another busy weekend.

Between 6:15 am Friday morning and Saturday midnight (adjusted time) I slept for two hours and ten minutes. Our high school lock-in and fall fun festival at church were the main contributors to that, but the lack of sleep didn't effect me as I thought it would -- it is sneaking up on me today, though. The lock-in was a whole lot of fun: go karts, putt-putt, batting cages, and the arcade. I went to some garage sales Saturday morning, which was also fun. The fall festival was a blast -- I got to lead kids through Trick-or-Treat through the Bible, sharing stories and giving candy as a reminder. (For example, every time you 'taste the rainbow' you can be reminded of God's promise to Noah and us that he will not destroy the world by water again.) I also finished moving into my new room at the house.

My cousin Tim was in town last night with a band he's in. They played at a poorly attended costume ball -- who plans a 5-midnight party on a Sunday night? Anyway, they did a great job; it was cool to listen to their music. You can sample it at www.therecliners.com if you'd like. It was good to see him and talk for a bit while they were on break. Even though he and his wife live in Austin, it had been almost two years that we'd seen each other in Texas. By the way, that's crazy.

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I'm responsible for our discussion question in staff meeting tomorrow; here it is: What is your favorite descriptor of God?

Of all the different ways he's described in scripture, my favorite at this time is Immanuel - God with us. I've written several times recently about incarnation and find that extremely comforting as well as challenging. The shalom of God is available to us through Christ and he allows us to participate with him in sharing that to others. He's not distant, even when we feel isolated. He's not absent, even when our minds and hearts seem like wastelands. He's not vindictive, even in our greatest rebellions. He dwells and inhabits within us. He chose and chooses to exist with us. He jumps right into the middle of everything in our life: our weakness, our struggle, our ego, our joy, our pain, our resentment, our confusion, our uncertainty, our desires. He takes us and everything about us into his arms, scooping us into mysterious certainty.

Immanuel. Beside. Within. Around. In the place of. In the midst of. God with us.

Generations

I don't know too much about Old Testament numerology or Hebrew numerology -- I don't even know the correct term for it. I read "The Chosen" by Chaim Potok in high school in which he referenced through one of the rabbis some interesting tidbits. Actually, the only one I remember is that the Hebrew word for man is equal to the number 1 and the word for woman is equal to the number 50. When added together, of course, you get 51, which happens to be the numerical equivalent of the word child. Man + woman = child. Awesome.

In completing my BSF lesson this afternoon, I looked for some insights similar to that. Since I don't know the numerical equivaltents of the words -- I don't even know the Hebrew words -- I looked for something in the generations of chapter 5. I know there exists significance to the number 7 -- completion, divine perfection, divine totality -- but I don't know all the significance of it. But I found the 7th generations of Adam interesting. Through Cain (noted at the end of Gen. 4), Lamech was the 7th generation -- a man whose life was noted for murder, revenge, and selfishness. Through Seth, Enoch was the 7th generation -- a man whose life was noted for walking with God. And for some reason, God decided to keep Enoch from tasting death (Hebrews 11:5) and took him to be with him.

I wonder if that reason was a glimpse of God's plan for humanity, his way of reminding us that his end-game for humanity was not death, but relationship. Being the 7th generation, maybe this was God intervening to show that he had power over death, power outside of death; that even though death had entered the world, it would not have the final say. Life with him, walking with him, relationship with him was what was driving him, even as death seemed to rule.

Enoch (simply) walked with God. I don't know what that looked like for him or what all he did. Jude mentions that he prophesied. Hebrews mentions he was commended (by whom?). Whatever the specifics, he walked and fellowshiped with the Creator. I don't think the form or method is the key; I think it's the simplicity of the walk, recognizing his presence even though we're removed from the Garden, but knowing that we are returning to that home. And I can't wait for the cool of that day.

Noise

We are surrounded by noise. Engines, horns, lawnmowers, music, talking, humming of electronics, the occasional rustling of leaves from the wind (that is, if we get a chance to be outside). For the most part, these noises are irrelevant to us. I would guess that of all the noise I hear in my day, most of it doesn't concern me. Which leads me to consider my attention to the noises that do matter: am I in tune with those? Am I attentive? Or does the voice of Truth get lost amidst the rest? Do I hear noise when I should be listening to voices?

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A little of my usual Wednesday excitement has been taken away with Lost being a rerun tonight. No matter how late I get back to the house from church on Wednesdays, I've been staying up to watch the night's episode that I'd recorded. I'm not sure what to do. Maybe go to bed at a closer-to-decent hour?

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Go to www.nooma.com when you get a chance. It's a non-profit organization producing some great videos. They allow you watch the "Rain" one in its entirety; it's well worth the 11 minutes.

This made me laugh...

We had a prayer breakfast this morning at the building with some of our high school students. One of the girls from CHS came in a little late, right as we had finished up some small talk and were about to pray before eating. The shirt she had on cracked me up and delayed our prayer time a bit because of the humor (that, and the fact that a high schooler was wearing the shirt). What did it say?

"I think, therefore I'm single."

Finally cool

It was 48 degrees this morning in San Antonio -- could fall really be here? I hope this isn't a tease; I don't know if I could handle that. Even though it warmed up to 70, as long as we're staying away from upper-80s approaching November, I should be ok.

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I missed my third straight Sunday at Northside yesterday. I'm in the middle of being gone four out of five Sundays. Our middle school retreat was this past weekend. It went really well, I thought. I love working with the youth ministers and groups at Sunset Ridge, MacArthur Park, and Northwest. I love it for the kids in my group, as well as planning purposes and resources. We were able to get one of our ym friends from summer camp, Monte McCulley, to lead our sessions on Saturday and Sunday; he did a fabulous job opening up the story of Jonah: God wants us, God pursues us, God listens to us, God uses us.

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Spending indulgences: what areas are you frugal and where do you allow yourself close-to-unlimited freedom? Eating out is definitely one of mine -- one I should monitor closely, too. I also have the tendency to go on random bursts of splurges, from clothing to gadgets to room furnishings.

I'm changing bedrooms in my house, which somehow necessitated the need for a new comforter and sheets. This summer the thought first crossed my mind when I was in Tuesday Morning looking for "Thank You" cards for one of the camps. (Commence laughter here for me being in Tuesday Morning.) I wondered over to the bedding section because I knew there was a good likelihood that I would be moving into Will's room when he moved out, which he did last weekend while I was at the family retreat. So I found myself there this afternoon, walking out with previously mentioned items. Tuesday Morning does a great job of helping one rationalize spending the amount you do because of the large discounts offered. Regardless of the discounts, it can still be a good amount of money; but there's something about purchasing closer-to-high-end merchandise-than-I'd-ever-be-able-to-afford at a "more reasonable" price.

Mom has told me before that it's ok for me to spend money on myself, even in non-frugal amounts. For some reason, I've recently found myself remembering that too often. And the next thought always involves being a good steward of what I'm given. Why is that? It can be so bothersome...

On a roof

Chris Robey, a youth ministry friend of mine, told a great story this summer stupid things we do and don't realize the extent of it until the middle of the experience. He told about getting on top of his roof (I think it was to remove some debris) and realizing he didn't have a safe way to get down. He shared what was going through his mind as he sat on the edge of the roof looking down -- and how much higher the roof seemed from that vantage point.

Well, this past weekend afforded me the opportunity to get into a similar situation. Karessa and I were playing frisbee golf at HEB camp before people were arriving. We were on Hole 10, which was a dog-leg left around a building. My throw landed so that the building was between the hole and myself. I asked her if I should try to throw it over; she said sure. I attempted, but failed to make it over, leaving my frisbee near the top of the roof, completely out of reach with any sort of broom or stick on the grounds. Fortunately, there was a well-placed tree next to the building. Fortunately, right?

I couldn't leave the frisbee up there; the retreat hadn't even started. It needed to come down. So I climbed the tree. For the most part, I'm a pretty daring person -- I have been skydiving. But in my mind, I still don't compare to my brother. He's always been the daredevil between the two of us and in my mind, still is. Growing up, I was a chicken and extremely cautious. I was the one who would recognize danger and back away. Luke, if he even acknowledged danger, just went for it. A ball in a tree? A reason to climb. He climb on our roof just to see if he could do it without falling. I didn't think it was in my blood. Oh, but it is; it was just hiding.

The whole time I was climbing up I kept thinking about two things: Robey's story and how I wished Luke was present to do this for me. It wasn't really a problem getting up. The step from the tree to edge of the roof was one of faith, but I knew my balance was pretty good and that it wouldn't be too much of a problem. What it confirmed, though, was that I couldn't get down the same way I'd come up. Jumping would be the only option.

I got the frisbee without a problem and threw it close to the hole/basket. I made my way to the edge with Karessa watching, asking me to be careful. As I neared the edge, a couple of cars were pulling into camp on the road a hundred yards away from the building, so I got flat against the roof -- people didn't need to see me up there, what kind of example is that? The vehicles passed and I dangled my legs off the roof, looking at the ground which seemed much farther down. I had on flip flops and decided to keep them on to help the impact on my feet; I just hoped they wouldn't contribute to a twist of an ankle or something. I dreaded an accident like that before the retreat started; that would've been beautiful. I could see the reactions and hear the jokes already. I kept thinking how irresponsible I was being, especially as so many youngsters were arriving with their families for the retreat.

So I jumped down. And landed on both my feet, with knees bent, and slowly fell backwards onto my posterior without any pain or injury. It was actually a nice landing. I acted hurt to try to freak Karessa out, but I was ok.

Mission accomplished, safely at that. And I made par for the hole.

A room is a room

My room's a mess right now. Clothes, both clean and dirty, are scattered about, thrown from bed to floor to bed again on a daily basis. Mail is stacked up on my desk and inn table; receipts lie in piles as well. I've got books stacked up in orderly and disorderly fashions, too. With the traveling I've been doing the past few weekends, the motivation to do something about any of this never rises into reality.

And this makes me wonder if I want it to be clean at all. I've heard (and believe) theories about stress levels and calmness relating heavily to the order of one's bedroom and/or office. An clean bedroom (sometimes just a made bed) greatly shifts one's perspective and ability to navigate through the mud; a dirty place remaining filthy continues the unsettledness, within and without.

Thinking out loud, then, does this mean I'm wanting to remain somewhat of a mess? Does my lack of desire or action to do something about the silly circumstance of my room reflect an unconscious effort on my part to perpetuate a cloudy picture within? Would my calmness -not that I'm in a frenzy- increase (whether dramatically or not) with a clean room?

(By the way, I'm sure my mom is saying, "YES!" And to let everyone know, she did raise me to keep my room clean. The present state is not a reflection of anything lacking in her or Dad's parenting.)

Fun to think about. What does your room look like right now?

Dust on the bottle

Our family retreat was this weekend at HEB Foundation Camps. We had almost 200 there and really enjoyed a fabulous weekend: great weather, great worship, great talent show, great memories. I got to be in charge in place of Bruce because he was in Abilene for Homecoming; what this meant is I was the one to walk around with the HEB person who inspected our clean-up. Our group always does a great job and the streak continued. I had done a walk-through before HEB guy arrived and only had to pick up a little bit of trash and close a few windows. There were a few lights I had not turned out, so we did that on the official walk-through.

So on my trip back to San Antonio, I was listening to the radio and the song "Dust on the Bottle" came on. If you're unfamiliar with it, good for you. It's the "story" of a guy going over to his neighbor's house (this neighbor makes his own wine) to get a bottle because he's got a special girl he's going out with that evening. So they go down to the cellar and the chorus goes:

There might be a little dust on the bottle
But don't let it fool you about what's inside
There might a little dust on the bottle
It's one of those things that gets sweeter with time

This got me thinking about communion and the emblems we use: bread and wine (ok, grape juice). We'd used pie crusts as our communion bread this morning; I'd asked for too much to be baked, so there was a lot left over had to be thrown away. We did a little better with the grape juice, but some of it had to be thrown out as well. But had it been wine, we'd probably would have been a little less wasteful with it because it's one of those things that gets sweeter with time.

I've got some experience with things that get better and worse with time. Most of it involves bread and milk, two things that don't get sweeter with time. Those two things get moldy and sour, very much unlike wine. Bread is something that needs to be fresh and comes with a sense of immediacy. Wine, which was what Jesus used in sharing the supper with his apostles, is much different from bread in that regard. Wine needs to be put away for a time; there isn't much of a hint of immediacy with it. However the process works, the longer a wine ferments, the better it is. Not being a wine connoisseur, I'm not too familiar with the contrast of a new wine and an older wine; what I do understand is that, in general, the longer a wine ferments, the better it is.

Which brings me back to communion. Again, thanks to a little dust on a bottle in a song and some open, Texas roads for driving, I found myself intrigued by the remembrance items Jesus asks us to use in his honor and memory. Something new and something old. Something fresh and something experienced. Something with a short shelf-life and something that should collect dust. Bread and wine. New and ancient.

I thought a little more deeply about the symbolism in bread and wine. With the bread representing Christ's body, there's an intrinsic reminder that our bodies have a short shelf-life; we too are fleeting. All we do, all we say, all we strive to accumulate and achieve in building cannot remain fresh and new forever. There is a time for it, but not an eternity. As we share in his body, we acknowledge that our sufferings (like his), though they may be fierce and sharp, will pass away and be no more. We eat bread with hope that we'll receive a new body when this one is discarded, just as Jesus did.

I'm not sure how to complete the symbolism with the wine, blood and ancientness. Maybe the idea is that the blood of Christ gets sweeter with time: the longer it covers us, the more we are bathed in it, the longer we are fermented within it, the more like Christ we become. The sweeter our aroma is to God. The sweeter we taste to our world. We are special, like wine used for rare occasions. Not that we're just dusted off for a certain ceremony or dinner, but that we are cherished as such. We are thought of by our Maker as a delicacy, something very fine. (Maybe the apple of his eye is a little easier for some of us to swallow.)

I don't know if this qualifies as redeeming culture or not, but it begs the inquiry to redeeming one-hit wonders. Should we? Do we want them to come back?

Next time, "Achy-Breaky Heart."

I get lost...

I'm a Lost fan. I started watching it about half-way through last season due to being an Alias fan (it came on before it, and one of my friends began watching and taping it, so our Alias fan club became a Lost/Alias fan club). I really enjoy the answered questions each episode brings, as well as the new questions these answers provide. The character development is greatly addicting and refreshing, too. The plot is so captivating. There are very few shows like this on TV -- though that opinion may be lacking in validity since I'm not a complete TV watcher. (I watch Lost, Alias, and sports, with occasionaly episodes of any of the Law & Orders that may be showing.)

Lost, so far this season, has provided great parallels for me in my worldview. Like Locke, I want desperately to find myself in a larger context, a greater story than a mere plane crash. I want to believe there's a reason everything happens, that there is a greater mover behind my circumstances. At the same time, like Jack, I'm sometimes hesitant to take that leap because I could be merely stepping into some hair-brained experiment or have to deal with the idea that I'm not in control of anything. I've found myself, again like Jack, clinging to the perspective that my choices and reactions to circumstances are real and matter -- that I'm not a puppet or pawn without choice in this world -- though there are random and sometimes coincidental happenings around us. But coming back to Locke, things are so much more full of excitement, life and possibilities when there's a larger story that I may not know about, though I'm learning and walking by faith within it.

This tension exists in our world. We're not robots, but we live in a larger context of activities we do not see. We're not puppets, but can we try to be those very pawns for a greater being? In surrendering our lives to the Spirit's stirrings, do we lose or gain freedom? Are the results ours, his, or both? Regardless of the exact perspective we take, we still must answer the question of "What then? What's the result of our belief? How does that flesh itself our in our lives?'

While Lost provides a medium for fun thoughts like these, it's a fun escape as well -- it's not all intellectual. And I think that's what makes it so enjoyable for me. There are different levels that I can appreciate. So when I'm frustrated about wasting time by spending it in front of the idiot-box, I can rationalize the broader, thought-provoking-ness of the show; when I'm needing to get out of my circumstances, I can get lost in theirs.

Doesn't it make you want to create something like that?

Work a sudoku puzzle before reading

i realized a few things about myself working these sudoku puzzles. I do well with logic and deductive reasoning. There is always a number that can be placed on the board without question -- it's just a matter of finding which number and in which area of the squares. It's very much like "If A is X and B is Y, C must be Z" or something to that effect. I can reason and check the placement of those numbers and be certain I'm right, to be able to move on and continue working the puzzle.

There have been a few times that I've gotten frustrated and began working on a guess. When I came to an impasse and had to backtrack, I'd get frustrated because I didn't remember how to get back to where I was certain of the board. A couple of times I've moved on to another puzzle; other times I've checked the solution in an attempt to see where I'd messed up.

A lot of times I find myself treating my life like this puzzle. I try to be deliberate and godly with where I place my time, energy, relationships, money, thoughts, dreams and heart, among other things. I'm good at recognizing consequences to my actions, being prepared for repercussions resulting from those placements. I understand I can't always eat out and have money to spend on DVDs; I have to figure out how to get a free lunch once in a while so I can have both -- ok, not a good example. I think you get the idea.

Except life is not a sudoku puzzle. As much as I try to live wisely and responsibly, leaps of faith are bound to arise, especially when attempting to live with all your heart. There isn't always a neat solution, where all digits are used without repeats in every 3x3 square, row, and column. Life is messier and not as tidy. And while I recognize this, I still find myself frustrated when I step into messiness; I don't know what to do with it.

Jeff Walling communicated a wonderful message about messiness and our Messiah. In the midst of our messes, God sends the Messiah -- not separate from the mess, but within it. Names evoking scandal (like Bathsheba, Rahab, and Tamar) appear in Jesus' chronology for a reason -- humanity is in a mess. And Messiah is part of that mess; he redeems us from it. But not only is our mess redeemed through Messiah, we have messy messages that have to be shared. But they are redeemed messes, used to communicate a message about our Messiah, however messy the telling or sharing or content may be.

Which coincides nicely with my thoughts this past year on mystery. (Messtery? Ok, no.) Life is mess and mystery. From these we find our abundance, a grace and mercy showered upon us revealing a hope that our messes will be redeemed to a new creation. And not only sometime far, far away, but that we are now a new creation, transformed daily into the image of the Messiah, who was full of grace and truth, as we are becoming that very grace and truth.

God did not advertize where he was and invite us to meet him in his holiness. Instead, he took on our flesh and mess to show us how to participate in his holiness with what we have - our bodies, our minds, our hearts, our souls. He doesn't demand a "Follow me!" bossy-style command; it's more of a "Hey, what's up? You interested? Come and see -- follow me around and see what you think." Taste and see that the Lord is good.

"Follow me."

Monday Night Fragmented thoughts

I'm now addicted to sudoku puzzles. They're crossword puzzles with numbers instead of words; simply fun and awesome. It's my new bedtime ritual: spend an hour or so on one of them before allowing myself to go to sleep, regardless of the time.

Still processing so much from the Zoe Conference: being incarnational and missional, relevant and authentic. There's so much glory for God to receive in this world; I want to find the places he's already working and bring that glory to light as his hands and feet. I was very encouraged, challenged and inspired by the conference, something that was very needed for my spirit.

It was so good to be at Otter Creek Sunday morning. Few places evoke the warmness and freeing atmosphere as the sanctuary at Otter does for me. It's one of those special places.

Another disappointing finish to a Braves baseball season. I thought having Smoltz back in the starting rotation was the push needed to get over the hump of returning to the World Series -- or at least making it out of the divisional series. The Astros have paid the Braves back nicely for those years of frustration they'd delivered. It stinks being on this side of it. But the Baby Braves provide some hope for next year...

I'm glad the Angels won tonight, though losing Colon is scary as they move on. White Sox and Cardinals in the Series? As much as I love Andruw Jones and would love to have him win the MVP, it doesn't get any better than Albert Pujols. This should be the year he finally gets his well-earned MVP award and World Series ring.

Am I the only one missing Blogger's html-helps for posting? Where did the italics-, url-, and quote-shortcuts go?

I'm trying to think of something profound or thought-evoking before I publish this post, but I got nothing. Enjoy your day.

Thoughts from the Zoe Conference

It's been a great few days being back in Nashville: I've been able to see my sisters and parents, spend some time with cousins, a cute baby, friends from church, and a few familiar faces from the past (college and high school). And I didn't even mention the things being discussed at the conference or the times of worship experienced. I'm not sure where to begin with it all and know I can't recap everything, but here is a taste of things from Wednesday through Friday:

-> Mike Cope and Randy Harris bringing challenging thoughts and words to the incarnation. Describing how we in church have usually taken the attractional approach to sharing Christ ("Hey, we're here and we're doing such and such -- come and see!"), God did the opposite by leaving his place and coming to us. He took on our flesh, our environment, our setting, and our limitations so we could become free. What does the incarnation look like in us today?

-> "Sing a new song" from the psalms doesn't necessarily mean something post-2000. One of the praise teams sang a short refrain over and over again and invited us to join in as we picked it up. Once we picked it up, we were supposed to bring new harmonies, melodies, words, etc. to the refrain, singing newness without inhibition. It was one of the coolest things I've done in corporate worship. Not only getting the chance to express my heart with a new twist to something I just learned, but to be surrounded by others who are much more talented than I and be a part of their new twists and offerings was enthralling.

-> Bethany walked-on the soccer team at Lipscomb and is the starting goalkeeper. I got to go to one of her games (Thursday). She's had a tough season; they've yet to win a game and have tied only one. But watching them the other night, I know their struggles do not rest solely on her shoulders or ability to defend shots. They were up 2-0 at halftime, leading me to think I was some kind of good luck charm for them. But, alas, their opponents pulled off five goals in the second half for a 5-2 win. I got frustrated on several levels: one, as a brother, feeling bad my sister was part of a losing endeavor; two, as a soccer fan (and some brotherly influence as well) watching the defense constantly get beat and scored on by the same tactic on a cornerkick. I was disappointed in Bethany's coach for not having a new scheme or variation of their defense against the corners. It put their team in an awful spot by leaving their keeper so helpless to a barrage of shots.

-> I've been able to see and play with my cousin's baby, Elsie. She's about 17 months old and chubby cuteness like never before seen. Here are a couple of pictures:




One of my other cousins has a one-year old I'll get to see tomorrow and I'll pass those pictures along when I get them.

-> It's so good to be at this conference. It feeds me on such a deep level and way. I can't wait for tomorrow to see what's in store for my heart and mind.

Through scandal and pain

I love the Incarnation, God made flesh. The thought and idea itself is completely romantic and inspirational, as is its reality -- which is monumental and amazing. The Creator desires so desperately for humanity to be like him that he became like us. He became like us to reveal not only himself, but how we can truly be human, in its greatest sense.

I wonder how much anticipation there was within the trinity between the time of man's first separation from them in the Garden and the first cry of baby Jesus. Did the Son somewhat pester the Father with "Is it time? Is it time yet??" like my siblings and I would as we waited for Christmas morning (Is it Christmas yet? Can we open the presents under the tree? Is it time?)? Even knowing the call of the cross, what kind of excitement built throughout their eternity waiting for the Incarnation? I like to think this was something the God-head couldn't wait to happen because of the joy waiting for us and them on the other side of the cross. Reunion. Relationship. Participation. Truth.

Though the path to these blessings led through scandal, pain, uncertainty, and separation, there was joy in the journey and fulfillment and hope beyond any imagination at the end of his road. Because the end of his road on earth is the beginning of our paths, which we now walk with him, learning how to be fully human and in the image of God. So, we the church, have become the second incarnation of the Father.

This is it. Our wonder and curiosity of our purposes is wrapped up in the incarnation. Just like him.

A wall

Groups of friends are like a wall of bricks cemented together. We touch each other. We hold each other up. We stand together. We fall together. Each one is needed; each one matters. We rely on each other. And when the cement that holds us together is the blood of Christ, a deeper bond is formed than if the cement was merely common interests or happenstance.