These days scruff is all the rage. I wish I could grow a real beard that I could be cool like all the real men in the world, but alas, a neard is all I can manage (that’s a neck beard for those not hip to the lingo). Most of the people that I spend time with are pros at appearing disheveled and disorganized while still actually being well put together. I tend to fall somewhere in the middle between disheveled and put together, mostly because that is an accurate representation of my life! I embody those that don’t care and don’t try, but unfortunately aren’t apathetic enough to actually look cool.
It would appear I’m pretty rough around the edges.
Part of me is quite content being frayed; I’m a twenty-three year old punk kid who speaks his mind too often and thinks he knows much more than he actually does. This piece of me thrives on being judged and oft looked down on for being a bit mangled. I try to convince myself that this is either building character or that it is the actual manifestation of a character I’ve already thoroughly developed. While some would say those statements may actually have a bit of clout, I’m not too sure they do anymore.
There is another part of me that is beaten up; this is not the strong-willed portion of me referred to above, rather it is the part of me that actually feels rough, feels bruised and broken. This part sees the part above as an illness, an infection that has the potential to slip deeper and deeper into my being until I am no longer rough around the edges, but rough the whole way through. This part fears rejection and criticism and hides alone, wondering if the arrogant piece of me will wither away. This part has lost all hope that a change can be made and that a man can be redeemed.
There is one other prominent piece of me that doesn’t make an appearance as often as it should: the repentant, humbled part that looks to God with hope and promise. This part understands that youth will make a man proud and talent even more so. This part is assured that change will come and that a man will arise from the ashes of a tattered boy. This part wishes deeply to learn and grow, leaning on strong men who have already made the journey. That piece of me has given up, not hope, but control. It prays to a perfect God for courage and honor to be given to an imperfect man so that he can be fully invested in his Lord’s plan.
Can you take a guess which piece is rearing its ugly, feeble head today?
I know that change happens, but I’m also aware that it takes time. In my opinion it’s not the changing that’s hard, it’s the patience to see it completed. As Eugene Peterson put it, it is a long obedience in the same direction. My task now is to cling to obedience; to cling to that part of me that believes in the promises God has made, to seek God expectantly. I am not now who I will be, but I am no longer who I was and there is certainly peace in that.
Thoughts?
I was told to blog this by @brightheaded. You are welcome.
Men are like Mac OSX: simple to use and understand (for the most part) to the novice and expert alike. If you invest more and more time, you can get into some very complex and wonderful things, but you can also just skim the surface and still make movies and websites. At times there may be some confusion, but for the most part it’s all about big buttons and simple text.
Women are like Windows: you would think that it would be simple to use because, after all, you’ve been using it since you were a kid and your parents bought their first computer. But no. Nothing is simple, there is always some critical piece of software missing and it constantly tells you that you’re an idiot because you don’t know how to properly work it.
But are women really like Windows? Or more like Linux?
Yeah, women are like Linux: only a handful of people really understand how to use it and the rest of us pretend we do so that we can look cool.
So there you have it. Male and Female: We’re like computers.
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Here and Heaven - Goat Rodeo Session (Lyrics by Chris Thile + Aoife O’Donovan)
With a hammer and nails and a fear of failure we are building a shed
Between here and heaven, between the wait and the wedding
Or as long as we both shall be dead to the world
Beyond the boys and the girls trying to keep us calm
We can practice our lines ‘til we’re deaf and blind
To ourselves, to each other, where it’s
Fall, not winter, spring, not summer, cool, not cold
And it’s warm, not hot, have we all forgotten that we’re getting old
With an arrow and bow and some seeds left to sow, we are staking our claim
On ground so fertile, we forget who we’ve hurt along the way
And reach out for a strange hand to hold
Someone strong, but not bold enough to tear down the wall
‘Cause we aren’t lost enough to find, the stars aren’t crossed, why align them
And why fall hard not soft into
Fall, not winter, spring, not summer, cool, not cold
And it’s warm, not hot, have we all forgotten that we’re getting old
And it’s fall, not winter, spring, not summer, cool, not cold
And it’s warm, not hot, has everyone forgotten that we’re getting old
And it’s fall, not winter, spring, not summer, cool, not cold
And it’s warm, not hot, have we all forgotten that we’re getting old
I’m in a philosophical and theological mood. I’m thinking way up high and I can’t complete the basic tasks my job requires of me.
I wanted to write about family; about how we should spend our lives investing in people and now houses and cars and suits and careers. Those things will fade, but people will enrich our lives. But then I got sidetracked.
I started to think about writing to people who are afraid of church, afraid of religion, and letting them know that church isn’t for good, put together people, church is for people. All people. We all need God and that’s why we go to church, not because we’re already good. If we were already good, we wouldn’t need him. But then I got sidetracked again.
A friend asked me how to find purpose in his life, or rather how to find the purpose in his life—the purpose. I told him our purposes are not something we know at the beginning of a journey, but rather something we find along the way, something we observe as we travel. There is a goal: to serve and glorify God and be more life him, but our specific purpose, be it defined by vocation or some service we provide to others, is under that larger umbrella. But then, once again, I got sidetracked.
I started listening to snippets of C.S. Lewis audio books, but I decided I couldn’t listen to them and work at the same time. My head is still stuck in his books though. I scanned through Mere Christianity and The Problem of Pain in a philosophy class in college, but never really dug into any of them. Some things really stuck out to me though and I can’t seem to shake them right now. Mere Christianity. Mere Christianity. He put more effort into titling his books than most take time to think about. What about Christianity is meager enough to be described by that adjective? What we believe, why we believe it, and the hope found in it—these things are, all together and separately, earth shattering. Have I been missing this? Am I treating my faith as if it were mere Christianity? And pain. Having been subjected to some intense pain in the not-so-distant past, I can see the problem of such a thing, but the way God uses this pain for His glory—and the fact that He allows, and therefore condones it—is something striking. Pain has taught me a lot of things and in turn strengthened my relationship with Christ quite a bit. But I still don’t have the full understanding.
I need to read through these books again. I forget these things all the time.
Come to think of it, I’ll just post this. Thoughts?
I like to play music. A lot. One of my bachelors degrees is in music and voice was my concentration. Needless to say, I sing to myself quite often (feel free to judge). I love writing music, recording music, jamming with friends, and performing. I really, really love performing. The whole world disappears during a 45 minute set with good musicians and a good crowd. Recently, the main focus of my performing (used loosely here) has been on Sunday mornings at church. As the worship director, I’m often leading or supporting in a worship set, and sometimes just producing from from of house. I love that time that I have to bear it all and sing my guts out.
The issue I ran into when I was younger was actually performing during a set like that. Granted, I want to do well and I want the music to be great, but the main focus is to worship, not perform. In this context, that is a somewhat simple idea to grasp. But what about real worship? Is it playing music in front of a crowd? Or is it something more?
This weekend, Pastor Kent Chevalier (@kentchevalier) dropped some hard knowledge on us about worship in regards to Psalm 50 (check the sermon out at WWW.northway.org). The idea that he was driving at is this: does our 1 hour of worship on Sunday match our 167 hours of worship outside of church? We are creatures who were made worshipping; we are always worshipping something, the question here is what is/are that/those things?
To bring some clarity to this idea, that’s look at the first mention of worship in the Bible: Abraham and Isaac. Abraham says to his servants they should stay at the bottom of the mountain while he and Isaac go worship. Did he have an electric guitar and a sound system? No! He had a knife! His worship to God was being obedient and killing his only son, as the Lord had commanded. Similarly, Isaac knew they didn’t have a sacrifice and started to ask his father about it, but was obedient to Abraham and God and allowed himself to be tied to the altar and nearly killed. These men are displaying a life of worship, one that extends to every decision we make. Our worship to God is being obedient, being good stewards of what he has given us and honoring him with our gifts, time, money, actions, etc.
I am not here to say that I always worship God. I am a sinner and I don’t always do what is right. We all are in that same boat. How can we take steps to worship God daily? Start small. I hate that “WWJD” bracelets, but think about it: what would Jesus do when talking to a coworker? On a lazy Saturday afternoon? When an older person is in need? When presented with some responsibility? Do your homework, practice for rehearsal, do the dishes for your wife, pick up the kids for your husband; serve. Worship when it hurts, just like Abraham picking up that knife.
Thoughts?