Most every year, one of the activities we do with the high school group is Surprise Night. On this night, the teens are asked to dress up in a certain way (traditionally, we've done formal wear) and then proceed to do something fun, hilarious, and odd, but something that they doing together. In the past, we've eaten out at a place like Denny's and then done a Polaroid scavenger hunt. Last year, had a scavenger hunt to find out destination: a hockey game. Last night was our Surprise Night and I think there were several teens wondering if what we did was legal...

They were asked to dress up in '50s attire (most everybody went with a Grease-theme), show up at the church building and be ready for a blast. What awaited them was a dinner of hamburgers, fries, onion rings, and root beer floats to kick-off the night. Then we loaded up in four vans and went to...the Blue Bubble Ballroom...for swing dancing. We had two instuctors for two hours of learning to rock step, turn, spin, and swing the night away. Most of the teens had looks of shock and curiosity as they entered, wondering if they were really going to be dancing for the night.

For those wondering about the legality of a church youth group going dancing, it is legal. I made sure to cover my bases as best I could. I talked with my elders; I talked with a few parents; I talked with my small group sponsors. I'm not going to be broadcasting our activities from the night (although this may be a form of that) because there may be some who are not comfortable with it, but the overwhelming attitude toward dancing is so different than it used to be. And the type of swing dancing we were doing was nothing more than a jazzed-up square dance with better music.

When we returned to the building, the teens were given the following article titled "Dancing with God" that I wrote. The point of the evening was not only to provide a great, memorable time with each other, but to let them participate in something they could reflect on and have as a tangible experience that can relate to their walk with God. I'll be referencing this night for the next several weeks to pull out ideas and thoughts about how learning to swing dance is so similar to learning to follow Christ. I'm sure they'll get tired of it, but I hope they'll get the point.

For me, listening to Jeff Walling preach through his Daring to Dance with God book was a pivotal and changing moment for me in high school -- one of my first opening-of-the-mind experiences. Those ideas have stuck with me through the years and a lot of what I write in the following is a retreading of those thoughts. I hope for my teens that their Surprise Night experience last night will somehow serve the same purpose Walling's words did for me. We shall see. Enjoy...

Dancing with God

I never went to school dances while I was growing up, mostly because my school didn’t have them. As I’ve grown up, dancing has been something I’m not greatly comfortable with -- I usually feel awkward. I don’t know the steps; I have trouble finding rhythm. I’m scared of looking as weird as I feel. But I wish I would have learned to dance much earlier than I have. And here’s why:

Dancing provides an incredible analogy to our relationship with God. God leads, we follow. God knows the steps and teaches us as we go. He invites us to listen to his music and find its rhythm to move in time and step with him. It is more art than rules; it is more subtle than rigid. For two dancers to dance well, they must know each other well, be comfortable in each other’s arms, and one must be willing to submit to the other’s leading.

Many times I have felt awkward dancing through life. This is probably because I thought I was in charge and believed I was the leader. As such, things turned out messy and wrong; the dance wasn’t a dance at all – it was me out of step with God. It was me stumbling around the dance floor trying to have my way. That doesn’t work in dance; it doesn’t work in life. So I find that I must submit to God’s leading if I want my life to bring glory to him. It’s not about dancing to look good and hit the right steps; it’s about being a work of art, rhythmically swaying through life, the beautiful creation of the Master Artist.

When I dance, I feel the burden of knowing what to do to lead my partner. Many times I’m hesitant because I’m not sure what to do or where to go. It may be new music to me; it may be a new dance. Whatever it is, when I am leading, I must be confident of what’s going on around and know when to step, when to turn, where to go -- how to lead. This can be a great pressure to carry in a dance; it’s even greater in life.

But God is incredible at this. He’s placed us on this earth (his dance floor) and invited each of us to dance through life with him. As creator, he’s written the music; he knows the steps, dips, and turns; he knows how to teach us to enjoy the experience while we’re on the floor; he knows how to bring glory to himself through us. His invitation to dance is an invitation to submit and allow him to lead. He offers joy and grace. He’s not out to make fools of us, even if we may feel like it time to time. He wants to hold us in his arms, waltz us around his planet and swing us around his creation, reminding that very creation that we are his special treasure; we’ve been stamped with his image.

I hope that’s what this Surprise Night did for you. I hope it will be another reminder of how God pursues us, how he longs to be in relationship with us. I hope that we don’t only walk away with great memories of a fun evening, but with a greater appreciation of what our lives are to be about. This life is an invitation to bring glory to the Creator. He wants nothing more than to be with us. I hope through learning how to swing dance, we have learned a little more about how to dance with God.

My screensaver is a series of photos taken from or of outer space (I didn't take them; they came with the laptop -- meaning they're good). As I was watching them flash across my screen a few minutes ago, attempting to conjure up something to write about, I noticed the exquisite beauty and majesty of those heavens. Moons and stars, darkness and light, views of Earth, Jupiter, Saturn, and many other places I cannot name. As the pictures zoomed in and out on the screen, I was overcome with wonder and awe at the vastness of what I do not know -- yet still find so captivating. At the same time, I could easily imagine watching these images and becoming lonely, feeling small in the midst of so much space.

I was reminded of more words from Nouwen's book Life of the Beloved, these regarding our brokenness and how closely the greatest gifts given us by God are to our greatest heartaches and despair:

We human beings can suffer immense deprivations with great steadfastness, but when we sense that we no longer have anything to offer to anyone, we quickly lose our grip on life.

Our sexualty reveals to us our enormous yearning for communion. The desires of our body -- to be touched, embraced, and safely held -- belong to the deepest longings of the heart and are very concrete signs of our search for oneness. It is precisely around this yearning for communion that we experience so much anguish.

This longing for oneness, this longing to be connected together to someone -- sometimes anyone -- expresses itself in so many ways: teens seemingly selling themselves through myspace or xanga, men seeking affirmation from the inanimate and women seeking to be beautiful from the impersonal in pornography, people finding communities (not in neighborhoods) but on message-boards. We go to outrageous extremes in search of relationship, in search of oneness. The very thing we were created for -- to be with God -- is the very desire we struggle to meet or satisfy.

Yet it's in this brokenness that we are found, that we are healed. It's in journeying through our heartbreaks and passing through our valleys of shadows of death that we find our Maker. It's in struggling and thirsting for the deep well of God that our cups of emptiness spill over with blessings of purpose and delight.

I'm not one to do well at guessing plot twists in books or movies. I know to expect something and usually formulate a guess while I'm reading or watching something, but reserve a specific attempt at guessing because I enjoy the surprise of the twist or turn. I think this is part of the reason I enjoy reading and movies so much; it's not so much about guessing correctly or knowing what's coming but enjoying the ride leading up to that point (and beyond).

For some reason, though, I've yet to fully apply the same concept to life: I can easily get caught up in processing and speculating what lies ahead that I drive myself crazy (as well as others) instead of taking in the surroundings of the path I walk. Not that I don't handle surprises and turns well, but I wish I was less analytical and speculative about their meanings and what they might hold down the road. I can watch and follow LOST from week to week and enjoy the surprises and twists (and answers that bring up more questions) without them taking away from the fun of the experience, whether it's a good episode or not. Maybe it's that I wish my life were a TV show so I'd not worry as much.

In a way, I guess it is. Not in a sense that God's the Great Producer/Puppeteer/Scriptor of things to come without any choices left to us, but in the sense that he is the Mastermind behind this beautiful creation allowing us to join with him in creation and love. In a way our outcome is scripted, our story is set, our future is determined. He knows the glory ahead, though we know not the extent of it. He knows the turns and twists because he sees, not because he manipulates. Within those turns, twists, valleys, and stumbles, he is present and comforting, reacting and healing, building and strengthening. Which is why he can offer us not to worry, not to despair, not to give up. He nurtures, he feeds, he smiles us to confidence. Like the flowers of the fields, we are to bask in the brightness of the Son, completely dependent on his nature to give us our beauty.

Much like I'm not sure what's going behind all that's happening on that island (the Others, the black cloud, the computer, etc.), I'm not completely sure of what's happening around and within me. (Probably never have been, but thought I did...) But a peace I have from the trust I'm giving Him; a peace I own because he owns me, because he's chosen me.

Nouwen writes in Life of the Beloved:
"In this world, to be chosen simply means to be set apart in contrast to others...To be chosen as the Beloved of God is something radically different. Instead of excluding others, it includes others. Instead of rejecting others as less valuable, it accepts others in their own uniqueness. It is not a competitive, but a compassionate choice." (italics mine)

So he's chosen me, along with you, to be holy, to be light, to be salt. Not at the detriment of others, but with the inclusion of others for his same glory. We are owned, we are bought, we are chosen compassionately.

I bought a new book last night, even though I'm in the middle of two and have two others waiting in the wing. I'm still reading The World is Flat and The Pentateuch as Narrative, with The Kite Runner and a sci-fi/fantasy book I was given for Christmas on my desk; but I had a gift card to Barnes and Noble, had some time after church last night and found Life of the Beloved by Henry Nouwen, so I may go ahead and start it tomorrow.

The intrigue to it is the reason for Nouwen writing the book: a friend of his who's a secular journalist asked him to write a book with language that he and his friends could understand, a book without the theological and technical terms that sometimes keep "outsiders" from being drawn in to the Story. I've read one Nouwen book before and was deeply moved and challenged by his words. He writes simply, but deeply -- very much how I aspire to write.

In the introduction I briefly read through last night as I was considering the purchase, I was drawn into the concept the title evokes: the one thing he'd let his friend know is that he is the beloved of the Creator and he wants to explain what that means. Above all else, in the midst of all things to communicate, Nouwen believes we need to know and feel what it means to be the beloved of God, what special place we hold in his sight and plan. I don't know what I would say as the one thing I'd want to communicate to someone who asked a similar question. I'm excited to find out the repercussions of being the beloved.

Words that encouraged me tonight during class:

Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ's love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture:

They kill us in cold blood because they hate you.
We're sitting ducks; they pick us off one by one.

None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I'm absolutely convinced that nothing -- nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable -- absolutely nothing can get between us and God's love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.

-- Romans 8:35-39 as paraphrased by Eugene Peterson in The Message

Before going to bed early this morning, I was checking up on some blogs I read. A link from Mike Cope's entry yesterday sent me to the script of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech, which I realized I'd not read in its entirety before. (Or if I had, it had been a while.) As I read through it, I attempted to hear him speaking that beautiful prose, those carefully precise and powerful words that still ring the bell of hope today. Of course, there's much more to the speech that his "I have a dream..." statements and that's was the splendor of the work: how it built to a thriving climax of hope, purity, and dreams each of us long for. Reading his speech was an inspiring prequel to going to sleep, especially with the plans I'd made for today.

I joined an estimated 100,000 people this morning on Martin Luther King, Jr. Blvd in San Antonio for the MLK March. It was cloudy and occasionally drizzly, but a special experience I'm so glad to have taken in. In the midst of this sea of humanity, people from across all spectrums, we walked because we too have dreams. While the understanding of the magnitude of Dr. King's life, words, and actions is evaporating somewhat with each new generation, the reality of his impact is unquestioned. I don't know the thoughts of the others who marched, walked, rollerskated, and participated today, but I imagine each of us had moments of introspection as to how this one life touched our own souls, how his dreams still linger throughout our culture, waiting to come to full fruition. I know my understanding of the great progress brought forth from Dr. King is experientially minor, but I'm thankful that regardless of how much I know or not we are brothers in Christ, drawn together by the same blood and Spirit of our Savior.

He's an inspiration of grandest imaginations for me because of what God did through him. His legacy is one I hope of leaving: a dreamer, a truth-speaker, a man of God, an honest, sincere heart, a man who lived out his convictions through love, peace, and hope. May his legacy be one we do not forget; rather, may it be one that we readily recall as another example of the faithfulness of God to work through vessels longing for the taste of holiness.

I've been reading through The World Is Flat by Thomas Friedman for a few months now. The main thrust of the book is about globalization and the impact of several innovations and revolutions in technology, communications, business, and economies in the past five to seven years. It's been fascinating for me to read about all this because it's been happening in the midst of some of my formative years, affecting me many times without my realization of its presence. I'm not yet finished with it, maybe about half-way through but one thing keeps coming up: our world has shrunk without too much notice and is continuing to shrink. The effects of this flattening shape of our world are still to be determined, although they may already be mapped out in the book -- I just haven't finished. All this to say, I took part in this shrunken world in a scaringly common manner this morning.

I'd received a resume before the holidays from someone who will go unnamed, for privacy's sake. This person is a college student and I forgot to take home with me the information for contacting this person for an interview over Christmas break. I was a bit worried earlier in the week when I realized that this person was already in Europe participating in a study-abroad program through college. After sending an email to confirm this person's location, I was asked to name a time convenient to me before 2:00 pm today to talk on the phone and conduct the interview. The phone being used in Europe, I was told, was yet to be set up to receive calls from the States, but could be used to call me. So this morning at 10:30 CST, the wires and cables laid across the Atlantic or the satellites orbiting above from the dot com boom/bust of the late '90s allowed me to interview a potential summer intern.

I realize long-distance calls have been the norm for many years and that business has been conducted across farther distances for probably longer than I've been alive. But isn't there some part of this that seems absurd? That a student can be in France, call a potential employer, neither of whom have ever met or talked before, carry on a conversation and interview, and think of it as just another day in life and work? I'm astounded, in a "wow" kind-of-way, at the casualness of it all (except I'm blogging about it in terms of a monumental event -- does it cancel out my wow?). I think I'm trying to hold on to some of the wonder of our great technological strides of the past few years that's missed because of the commonplace role these technologies now hold in our world.

When something becomes such a commonly used item, it seems to transform into a necessity. As a necessity, it then is set up to be something that's considered to have always been around, as our memories can be so short-term at times. It then becomes about the newest, sleekest, hippest version of the necessity, allowing people in suits and ties to make a lot of money. Take the mobile phone. It's probably the one item I have that if I left my house without, I'd feel completely helpless. As strange and crude as it may sound, I wonder if I'd feel more naked without my mobile phone than without clothing. Trust me, there's no planned attempt of that anytime; and I apologize for the bluntness. But, there's some legitimacy to the thought.

I don't want to get into the conversation of being possessed by possessions, but more along the thought-stream of the commonplaceness of God in our lives, for good or ill.

Is he something that has been such an apparent part of our lives that we forget the awe and wonder he should receive?

Is he something that, if we were without, we'd recognize a naked uncomfortability that we'd not know how to manage throughout the day?

A prisoner of war, held captive by age and from energy. That's how I felt yesterday evening, anyway. I got home around 5:30 with hopes of doing a little running with Chad, and walked in to him lacing up his shoes about to take off. I quickly changed and we set out on a new route he'd made up around our neighborhood and surrounding area. Of course, it included more hills than the usual path we take; but sitting here distanced from the experience, I'm glad there were those hills.

As we finished up the three miles, having not run in several weeks, my body was exhausted. I wasn't sure how I'd made it that far, that quickly. Chad told me he'd probably just cut five minutes from his previous time since someone was running with him. I was able to make it through those hills and finish because I was running with someone. The thought occurred to me that the energy I needed to complete the run as I'd like to was missing from me -- in most part because I've not been training to run as I'd like; there's still a part of me that naively believes I can set out and run great distances because I was in great shape at some point earlier in life. Apparently, our bodies don't work that way. For that matter, neither do our souls.

I know I'm far from being considered remotely old (although one of my middle school students to a stab this past Sunday at my age, guessing that I'm 40-something), but hints are beginning to be dropped across my path from my body that I'm not as young as I once was. And that if I'd like to act and play as if I were, I'm going to have to put more effort into maintaining that shape and stamina than in previous years. In that way I visualize my POW status by age, kept away from energy, the very thing I'm attempting to grab hold of.

In much the same way, I find myself captured and imprisoned by this present age, this current culture. My mind's overtaken by consumerism, materialism, selfishness, and immediacy. Recognizing these dangers, yet failing to train and discipline my heart against their hooks and lures, I don't withstand and wake up wondering why things feel so out of sort, so uncomfortable and unnatural. Instead of a Normandy invasion, these attacks come much more subtly, sprinkling itself in the crevices of my mind and heart, taking root where I'd least expect. And when I decide to get off my butt and seek him through discipline, I'm kept from flying as I know he's made me capable. But I don't lose heart. Though outwardly wasting away, inwardly there is hope of renewal. For the light and momentary troubles are nothing compared to the eternal glory that awaits.

When training our bodies for fitness, competition, or playful activities, we need and long for energy. In this journey on earth, we need the Spirit of Life as our source, our breath, our being. Just because we're moving doesn't mean we're living. In Colossians 3:1-2, Paul helps us see what we're responsible for in this journey: we're given the freedom to set our hearts and minds on whatever we choose. Whatever we dare dream, we can, whether for good or for ill. How will we exercise our freedom?

There's nothing like being in a class or lecture listening to Randy Harris, John York, Earl Lavender, Tim Woodroof, and Rubel Shelley. It was good for my heart, mind and soul to be at NCYM this past week. I was blessed over and over by the words of wisdom and insight from men like these, who delivered the message of the Bible with such applicable and fresh insight. On top of that, I was fortunate to be around and in conversation with friends from across the country, both older and younger than me. Several relationships that I don't really maintain other than at this annual conference continue to bring joy and laughter to my life when we do see each other.

It's a funny thing to be in a setting with so many other youth ministers. It's such a unique line of work/ministry, one that produces a great amount of burn-out in such a short amount of time. There are other facets that contribute to the uniqueness, but burn-out is one of the aspects that is dealt with so well at this conference -- mainly, I think, by merely the conference happening: gathering people from across the country who are in such similar positions and allowing them to interact with each other has a tremendous impact on the following weeks and months.

One thing I'll share with you, dear reader, that hit me between the eyes this past week is the incredible lack of discipline in my walk with the Master the past several months. Laziness had infested and become so commonplace that it seemed to take an unfound Herculean strength to muster effort to do anything. This paralysis crept through so many crevices of my heart. And what an awful state to dwell in. But the relentless love of the Savior maintained its namesake, constantly pursuing my heart despite the stagnant pursuit of him on my part. I pray for a response of surrender to this love instead of the fear with which I've responded of late. For whatever reason, I'd filled my surroundings with noise to keep away the whispers of hope gently tossed my direction, again, not trusting this love.

What is this love that will not let me go, that will not let me be? Who is this person, this being, who continues to dodge my apathy, continues to hurdle the crowding of my heart, continues to overcome all obstacles between he and me? What manner of love enables outpourings of life upon ungrateful objects, offering hope, offering transformation, offering peace?

It is the Lion of Judah, no less. The King of Glory, Author and Perfector of faith. Divine Human, Human Divine. The Creator of the heavens, the earth, and all that is within them. The Song of Everlasting Jubilee. The Pursuit of our deepest longings. The Giver of Goodness. Beyond imagination. Outside of understanding. Entrenched in mystery. Revealed in Jesus. The Master of all that moves and has being. The Pursuer of our hearts, relentless in love, enveloped in grace.

May we, too, be relentless in love, enveloped in grace with each breath and step.

Nashville experienced record highs yesterday, which were naturally followed by contrasting cold weather. I left my sister's apartment to an uncomfortable 75 degrees, disappointing since it was the second day of January. I thought things like that only happened in Texas. By the evening, though, it had cooled off and this morning brought a return to the anticipated 40 degrees, which I consider favorable. My cold or sinus-stuff has not gotten better or worse, merely persisting with a runny nose and a bothersome irritability right between my eyes -- the place that gets scrunched up when you shut your eyes and raise your nose. (In doing just that, attempting to accurately describe the location, I realized it hurts to do so. No more show-and-tell for me.)

The conference has gotten off to a great start for me. I've seen several friends from college already, as well as a few from high school. The speakers I've heard have been outstanding and I can't wait for a few of the others this afternoon. And then I'm meeting up with my fam tonight for dinner for one last time together before we're again dispersed across the country. (Mom and Dad are going to visit Dad's youngest sister and her fam in California on Thursday; I'll head back to San Antonio Friday; Anna's already in Nashville for school; Bethany will start back next week; and Luke will take off once more in a couple of weeks to finish his little excursion.)

I'll leave you with slogan one of my high school friends is testing as his personal slogan. He's a youth minister in Little Rock and one of the most creative, funny, deep-thinking and engaging people I know, mainly for things like coming up with a personal slogan. "Hovater: the fun outweighs the peril." It's got me thinking of a slogan of sorts for myself. What would yours be? Or do you have any suggestions for mine?

I arrived in Nashville this evening after spending the past week and a half with my family. I'm still with my fam, as I'm staying with Anna tonight at her apartment. My conference begins tomorrow afternoon, so I'll head over to the hotel after lunch and after I pick up Matt Lee at the airport. He and I and two other guys are sharing a hotel room this week, which should be a lot of fun. Not only are we saving our congregations money for hotel expenses, I'm sure we'll have ample opportunity to do some stupid things together. Actually, I'm really looking forward to the conversations and stories to be shared.

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I don't like making resolutions because I don't keep them, especially if I tell others about them. Isn't it suppose to work the other way around? Isn't that supposed to provide some accountability? Not that I've found. So below, you will not find any of my resolutions. I do have some things I'm hoping to accomplish in the coming year, but I've not mentioned them out loud yet in fear of jinxing them.

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Happy New Year!