The Mountain

There is a mountain, a large mountain Where the rock exposed is so vast, so endless Where my foot will not slip nor my arms fail me A place where God is big and his glory evident Yet I clutch the very smallest of rocks If not for my lack of faith I might grab one larger But the size of the rock must not concern me For even that small rock is a piece of the mountain I am learning that the mountain of God breeds epic storms and wild winds.... But it cannot be shaken I feel as if God cannot help but invite me in... "Come on up, the view is great" From here I can see my old life, but a wrinkle of a hill And my mountain, the one on which I stand, is towering. Grab hold of the mountain!

"So what IS that joker up to?" you're wondering

Hello buds...and people who I barely know. I wanted to give you a little insight into what the heck I'm thinking these days. Well, many of you know that I am working landscaping/construction while waiting to hear on a youth pastor position. Wednesday's the day. It has been an exciting time of life after returning from my travels, not simply because I would love this job- but because I am fully aware that life will change...SOON. I wait expectantly. Why would He bring me this far to leave me in the dust? The truth is that I want to live the adventure that God has invited me into, but I don't even know what that looks like. And I love that part. The mystery, the expectation, and the knowledge that God will keep my heart beating and my soul awake. I don't know if I'll get the job, I don't know if I'll stay in Colorado Springs, I don't even know how to plan for what's next- But God is good ALL the time. I am excited for Wednesday because I am confident that sometime during that day I will learn a new dependence on Him that I have only known in pieces. Eat up the adventure folks- the unknown is the mortar of life, the glue that keeps our souls stuck to hope. That's life; I love it!

The cries of rescued ones

Without a doubt the most intense book I've ever read is "Endurance" It is the story of Ernest Shackleton and his men on a failed expedition to cross the continent of Antarctica from 1914 to 1916. I read this while living on the continent of Antactica which made it all the more real and harsh to imagine what these men lived through. Here's the bottom line about the book. Sub zero temperatures. Boat gets stuck and cracks in the frozen sea. They head out on foot...dragging their row boats behind. Survive eating penguins and seal blubber. Wait on floating icebergs. 28 men survive two dark winters. Sail across the one of the roughest passages in the world...in row boats. These men were amazing! They survived for 18 months on ice with very few supplies and they should've died, every single one of them. The most intense part of the book is on the last page. A third of the party had sailed ahead to find an island that housed the first known civilization, a whaling station. Each moment gets more and more intense as they are forced to outfit their worn boots with screws (makeshift crampons) and climb over glaciers and huge peaks to get to the whaling station on the other side. Not having eaten for days the men pressed on for their deliverance. As they walked into the whaling station the men stopped what they were doing as men with long hair and shaggy beards walked by, like ghosts that had been hiding out on the island. Dazed by the feel of deliverance Ernest and his men walked to a shack where the head of the station lived. As the man opened the door he did not even recognize Shackleton...his good friend. When Shackleton said his name the man turned away and wept. There is nothing more captivating to my soul than deliverance...being rescued from the jaws of death, being ripped out of a desperate situation and assured that everything is okay. David Crowder sings the words, "...the sound of rescued ones". I get chills when I sing them, because at my core I realize that I have been rescued from the jaws of death into the arms of Jesus. When we don't realize we are rescued we are not grateful for life, people, time, God, mornings, etc. I can only imagine the chills the prodigal had when he saw his father running toward him. I like to think he also turned away and wept. Deliverance! I feel it every time I walk out of a cave, when get off a scary route rock climbing, when I am nearly hit by a car that came into my lane, when a teacher decides the test I failed was too demanding, or when I get back to base camp after climbing a big peak. Our hearts cry out for deliverance. We know down deep that we have been rescued...but we get over it. Life isn't so fresh sometimes, so crisp, so new. How can we remember our desperate cries for life when we are amidst the joys and routine of "normal" life? Go back to the basics. The prodigal must remember his rebellion, Shackleton must remember the most desperate and frostbitten situation, and I must remember the feeling in the depth of the cave as I wondered what I might be like to never get out of here alive. We must remember our sin, our rebellion, and our desperate situation before we knew the arms of Jesus were so loving. Deliverance!

A happy birthday to J.R.

My bro JR, who I also call Jota, Billy, Boudreau, and reverend, had his B Day yesterday. It was a blast spending the whole day with him and his wife Meg. I videotaped him and friend skydiving (and wrecking his tailbone on the ground) in the morning, went canoeing at a reservoir in the mountains, and made dinner for him and Meg. We laughed our butts off all day long!!! For those that don't know JR and Meg are heading for Philly in less than a month. I am excited for them, but I'm going to miss days like yesterday when my brother is half way across the country. There are few greater gifts in life than siblings and friends. I thank the Lord that JR and I have both of those.

Always changing yet always the same

I've been thinking a lot lately about the Church...and how it must change in order to meet different needs in different times in different cultures. The irony is that we must change our presentation in order to be effective in communicating the timeless message of an unchanging God. I will continue to wrestle through this, but I'd love your thoughts. I finally picked up Rob Bell's book "Velvet Elvis" and it's encouraging me a lot on this idea. "Times change. God doesn't, but times do. We learn and grow, and the world around us shifts, and the Christian faith is alive only when it is listening, morphing, innovating, letting go of whatever has gotten in the way of Jesus and embracing whatever will help us be more and more the people God wants us to be." Page 11 Change is scary sometimes, but it happens gradually when we are being attentive to the people around us. There is only one thing more scary to me than the Church changing; empty church buildings that once were alive and kicking with the gospel message. After my ninth grade year I took a mission trip into inner city Philly. I saw drug deals, heard drive-by shootings, and got my butt kicked on the basketball court, but nothing shocked me more than the amount of empty churches there. Beatiful, old, striking buildings boarded up because no one could fill them on a Sunday morning. Each one of those churches failed to take a hint from culture around them and adapt to the times. Slowly those churches (bodies of believers) died off and only wood, stone, and stained glass remain. I will continue to wrestle through this (probably for my whole life), but I'd love your thoughts.

Back yard vs. Front yard theology

Lately I have been making ends meet by building fences and it has gotten me thinking a lot. It seems that suburban America is captivated by fences. It's not the cheap wooden pickets that we love but what they represent. What is everyone trying to keep out? ....or keep in? Why does the American suburban dream include a white picket fence instead of wide open spaces to roam in? I suspect the business boom with fences has much to do with privitization. Suburbia is a mass of people trying to live a dream and keep something in...or out. On a service trip a few years back I was immersed in the inner city of the town I grew up in. It wasn't the Bronx, but it certainly didn't feel like it was only a few miles from where I had taken shelter in our nice little neighborhood. While on this trip I loved observing the people and their simple, and somewhat strange, way of interacting. My biggest observation; they were front yard people. At the moment of that realization it hit me that I had grown up in a back yard culture in the suburbs, one that valued privacy more than the open-door policy. The people I observed in these inner city neighborhoods were always together pumping tunes from their car, sitting on chairs on the front porch having a Coke, or yelling hello to a neighbor in their yard down the street. I can't imagine these people calling their next door neighbor and making sure it was a good time to stop by. Some of my favorite memories of growing up in Virginia were sitting on the front porch, sweet tea in hand, watching the sunset or playing baseball in the street with my friends. Looking back though, I remember far more family dinners and jam sessions on my guitar in the privacy of the back yard. As Christians there is much danger in living a back yard lifestyle. We cannot privitize our faith, hide it, shelter it, keep it in, or keep it out. People are one of God's greatest gifts to us and often one of His greatest ways of showing us his character. We must live life face to face, and we must be intentional about not being caught hiding from the world in the back yard. I don't believe that we live our life as a spectacle for others to see, but instead we leave our faith open and exposed so that others will feel free to just "stop in" on us in conversation. It gets a little old looking at the wooden fence posts for too long. Try it out, just grab a friend and a few chairs for the front porch and enjoy the view...together.

Just call me Aunt Jemina

Some days I am challenged more by the idea that life is very short. Today was one of those. It was a good reminder to not just live...but to think intentionally. -----Today is a new adventure------Our lives are so short------Acceptance of routine can murder the soul. It was a foggy, cold, overcast day at work (I'm doing landscaping/construction for the time being), and being outside didn't exactly make me want to shake my booty and sing out loud. Around lunch time my roomate and I talked up a sweet idea, a different one- a home-made breakfast feast for lunch. It was the best lunch break I can remember in a long time, maybe ever, because we decided to step out of the routine. Standing in my kitchen smelling heaps of bacon, eggs, hash browns, and pancakes for three hungry dudes just made me laugh. Today's a new day; you never know what you're gonna get.

Look back

How did you use today to give God glory?