And Language Fails (My Heart Returns)

Doers

Often when I read the Bible I connect to it (only) on a surface level—skimming the surface of the words and breezing through the stories like it’s homework, and if I’ve learned anything at camp or church or Bible studies, it’s that other people have that experience, too. Christians, brothers and sisters through the Messiah, I am talking to you right now, you who are (most likely, almost definitely) identifying with me. Ya know?

 

Here’s how it oft plays out: I sit down with my Bible, and I honestly want to connect with the Lord and learn more about Him, and hopefully find an application to my life that bears fruit, but then I start reading and something . . . just . . . happens. I get into the passage a little bit and either get distracted or just plain tired of reading it. The above happens: skimming the Lord’s Word (Isn’t that a silly thought? Here we are given the truth and yet we treat it with such, with such lightheartedness).

 

But I don’t want that—I’m not satisfied with that, and I don’t suspect you are as well. I’m tired of bland Scripture readings (which should be an oxymoron); I’m tired of digging into truth and only finding dirt; I’m tired of not connecting with the Lord of my salvation.

 

So there’s this band, called Rage Against the Machine, and they are pretty hardcore (like I wish I was some of the time). They have all these cool political beliefs and hate America and stuff. They’re pretty hip and make you feel rebellious even when you are listening to them. Tom Morello, the band’s lead guitarist (and a Harvard grad with a degree in Political Science I might add), has said that J former J President George W. Bush should be charged with war crimes and hung. Now I don’t agree with that but they say stuff like that, which is semi-shocking and kinda makes you want to lock your doors or something.

 

But Rage Against the Machine, despite some of its near-psycho beliefs, stands for a lot of amazing things. The band promotes and helps organizations that further women’s rights, fight poverty and injustice, and stuff like that. I was front row at a show they did and Zack (lead singer) gives a political speech every time, and here’s what I’m getting at: Rage Against the Machine stands for something. They believe in something enough to take action for it. Even if some of their beliefs are not what we would deem morally right or whatever, that’s more than most people can say.

 

I was eating lunch today and looked around at all the college students, eating, drinking, laughing, etc., and I thought to myself, “Holy shit, most of these people (including myself 99% of the time) don’t stand for anything but themselves.” And then I listen to Rage Against the Machine and they are standing for something. I can respect anyone who stands for something that’s not rooted (somehow) in their own personal gain.

 

As I sat, eating my apples and watching bleach-blondes flirt with Hollister guys, it occurred to me that I don’t want to be like them; I don’t want to be another person who seeks his own—I want to be one with something bigger, and better.

I realize this post is scatterbrained, but I’m (at least) attempting to make a point. Just now I was reading Ephesians again and listening to Rage Against the Machine (I suggest it) and thought to myself, “This is something that is serious, something that has eternal consequences, something that is worth being acted upon and not (solely) meditated upon.”

 

Therefore, I resolve and pray (because, once again, as Christ says, apart from Him we can do nothing) to let God use me. I’m giving God the 1% He needs to do something. To do something—because that’s what this is about—this life and this gospel—it’s about doing. Farewell—I got stuff to do.

 

My brother James says, “But prove yourselves doers of the word, and not merely hearers who delude themselves.”

One

Admittedly, I’m a wishful-but-not-near rebel. I do really little things that people don’t normally do so I feel like I’m rebelling. For example, the other day I put on all my clothes and realized I looked normal. So what does a rebel do? He puts on his half-turquoise half-plum Converses. Impressive, right?

 

But no joke it made me feel cool, so shut up about it already. I do the same thing with the Bible (stop, I’m listening to a playlist on shuffle and Good Charlotte’s “Hold On” came on and you have no idea how happy I am . . . okay). No, I really do.

 

It’s like this: we study Paul’s letters so much, and it really bothers me. Like, we are called Christians right? So shouldn’t we read the gospels more or something? Sophomoric, I realize, but I feel that sentiment all the same.

 

Despite the incredibly rebellious act of not reading Paul, I am going through Ephesians. Ugh. I know. It just sounds stupid and defeating. But I am, I admit it, I’m going through Ephesians and I really like it. I mean, I’ve read it before but you need to read things over and over and over again for them to sink in.

 

Just read this, it’s the first six verses of chapter 4 in Ephesians: “Therefore I, the prisoner of the Lord, implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as also you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all who is over all and through all and in all.”

 

Oh snap. Look at all the words in that passage: humility, gentleness, patience, tolerance in love, diligent, unity of the Spirit, peace, one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father, over all.

 

When I think of my life, when I think of the world, when I think of the Church, one is not a word that comes to mind. In fact, so distant is the word one from our being that is seems distant—distant like the word love is to me—distant like the East and the West—distant like humility and peace—but these traits, these ideals seemingly, are not so distant because of Christ, because of Adonai and the Spirit, because of the incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection of the Messiah.

 

Jesus tells us, in John chapter 15: “Apart from Me you can do nothing.” (You like that? My blog is like the Bible! Calm down I’m kidding. Why is my writing so giddy today? I feel like a girl or something—or happy? What is that?)

 

How awesome is that! I cannot do anything without Christ! I cannot have love without Christ, I cannot have humility without Christ, I cannot have peace without Christ, I cannot have one without Christ. One.

 

Here’s what one isn’t: every day I commit flagrant harlotry to my Lord, like Ephraim in Hosea, and every day I put things before the Lord (stupid little things like my writing and my tiny well-being) . . . I do stupid things that I shouldn’t and I sin and must look horrible to God who is sad that I am not following, loving Him as I should be.

 

Here’s what one is: one is Christ coming in flesh—one is the Father sending the Son to be born in a manger with hay in a barn that smells like horse shit—one is Christ living a perfect, a perfect life—one ­is Christ being nailed on a cross and bleeding like no one should—one is the gift of the Spirit—one is perfect communion with the Trinity—one is our God.

 

Our Lord is one 

Storytellers

Testify:

 

Born in Austin, raised in the church, and constantly fed scripture, I was set up to be a beautiful disaster from childhood. I went to a private Christian school in Austin and moved to Dallas in third grade, where I went to another private Christian school. Church was fine—just something to see my friends at again. I took God as seriously as a grade schooler could.

 

In junior high I went to Pine Cove, a Christian camp out in east Texas. I think my spiritual journey started there, the summer before ninth grade (a vital summer). We were water-skiing and I was sitting in the boat watching another kid fall over and over. His frame was slightly heavy, and he moved with awkward pre-high school movements. I sat in the boat and wondered if he would ever get up. After about six or seven tries (which were so far from successful that we all wanted to leave), the boat driver told the kid he had one more shot. Hmm, I thought to myself, I wonder if this kid can actually get up. Being the insecure person I was and am, I had been slightly proud of my doing better than him, but something entered me and I prayed: Dear Lord, please let this kid get up on his skis; I know there is seriously no way he can do it without You. So could You help him out? Ten seconds later the kid was water-skiing.

 

I know that story seems trivial but it’s close to my heart, because that is the first moment I can remember where I honestly knew God was up in the Heavens, and all around my face.

 

I continued to grow in little steps and read my Bible and pray as often as I could spare time for Him. The next significant step I remember happened the summer after my sophomore year: Monterrey, Mexico. I was 15 going on 16. I spent the preceding months pouring over the scriptures. I would literally read the Bible for two or so hours almost every day. It was weird, I know. I haven’t read so much of God’s word since then. I read the Bible so much because our football coach, in a Bible study he had, told us that if we get into the Word a lot before camp or a mission trip or whatever, we will get more out of the trip and have less of a drop-off after the trip’s emotional high. Coach was right.

 

Monterrey was a unique experience. I loved the trip for its mixture of relational and physical activities. Building an orphanage is quite a cool thing to do. Highly recommended, but when you also get to meet the people who will be running it and the people who are putting their lives in its service, it’s a real treat. I continued to dive into God’s word in Mexico, and the fruit of the months before the trip began to ripen. Often during the worship time I would get real emotional and shit. Not that it’s a bad thing; it’s just a hard thing to control, and sometimes (at least for me) it can cloud what’s real and what isn’t, or at least it can make trivial things seem important and vice versa. But despite that, the trip was an amazing success and I learned a lot about myself and my God. And the better part was that it carried over greatly into the school year. My junior year of high school has been one of the best years in my life. I was close to God and it showed in all aspects of my life. At the same time, though, I began to be attacked by the Enemy and the enemy in me. My sin nature. Ever since freshman year I had suffered from mild depression. Little spurts at first, but it began to increase through high school to the point where I had suicidal thoughts and shit like that. The thing is, so many people struggle with depression in the church, and because of our fear of being rejected, we often don’t share struggles like depression.

 

But because of my closeness to the Lord, I was able to evade most of depression’s harmful effects. Here’s what happens when you are close to God: 4.0 GPA, make it to state in football, most joyous times in your life. But this also happens: the Enemy sees an opportunity to cut you down before you grow too close to the Lord, so you might (as I did) endure some of the most painful things in your life.

 

The next summer passed without too much consequence and my senior year looked to be bright and easy. And then a strange (not necessarily bad) thing happened: my family moved to Boston, and I moved in with my aunt and uncle. It was fine, just weird. So football started in early August and I was ready to apply for great colleges and get into all of them and stuff like that.

 

And you have to remember that this all happens after my great junior year. At this point, I was extremely close to God and everything was (for the most part) smooth sailing.

 

And then . . . so many things. For starters, I fell in love. I can honestly say this is the only time I have truly (deeply) been in love. I can also say, to all you people who realize I was only 17 and 18 years old, that it was love inside of me. I know this because I have never in my life thought about myself so little. I was always thinking about her and what made her happy. It was, as love is, a rollercoaster, and eventually it didn’t work out. It hurt a lot, but I could have probably dealt with it if something else hadn’t of happened at the same time.

 

I love playing football. Like you have no idea, well a few people might. I love hitting the shit out of people. It’s so fun. So here’s the picture: we, as a team, had a great junior year, we made it to state and brought back all our starters. I, as a player, had a great junior year, and was ready to win a state championship. And then something unexpected happened. Through the first three games our team was having a great year, and I was having a great year in football, too.  But then, all of a sudden, I tore my ACL and my MCL. Done. No more football . . . ever. Surgery, physical therapy, and months of workouts. Never again would I strap on the pads and buckle my chinstrap. Never again would I see the ball floating into the receiver’s hands before I would dismantle his body from the ground. Some of you might not think it’s a big deal, but it was. When you lose something you have passion for it hurts.

 

So here’s the senior year situation so far: my family moved to Boston, I fell in love but wasn’t loved back, and I tore my ACL and my football dreams were over. Probably the worst four months of my life, even though I have some great memories from them. On top of all this, my depression began to set in, and this time more deeply. After surgery and a couple seeks on painkillers, I hadn’t spoken to God in a while and it all seemed futile: school, relationships, God even.

 

Somehow I didn’t do anything too stupid. I thank God for that. He put great people in my life when I needed them most. I don’t feel like naming people here but I will name some at the end. So December passed in Boston and there was reason that this year would be better than the last. It started great: I got all my college applications in on time and was excited to see which ones I would get accepted to.

 

The months passed, I waited tables, and I waited for the acceptance letters. Sadly, none came. I got rejected from everywhere I had applied in the fall and by now I was just too exhausted to be terribly pissed off. My parents scrambled and we found, according to His plan I am now sure, the University of Iowa. But before I scampered off to college, my life was to be changed forever.

 

After the, excuse my ever-worsening language, extremely shitty senior year, I was headed to Africa with the below-mentioned Bumper, Cici, Papa, and Audra. I have blogged many entries on Africa, and that is because no other event in my life had so drastic of an impact. You have no idea, and I cannot explain it now. I can only point you to the blog entries from June 2008. If you want to know me and the experience I had there, go read those. The realization that so many things in my life are useless luxuries and that 10 pennies can buy a meal is a realization that will stab your side. My heart returns to Africa every day, sailing over the Atlantic into the dusty red paths of Jos. I can’t escape it. It obliterated everything I thought about myself and my faith in God. It brought me closer to God but not in any ordinary way. I will be back in Jos some day, hopefully soon. Africa, and God through it, gave me a heart for totally new things. Poverty was actually a real thing now. Oh damn.

 

So that summer, having been shattered, I tried to regroup for college. It took a while for me to realize the power of Africa and the effects it had, but as I slowly took them in I began to change. A trip to Scotland with my dad helped quite a bit. I gathered myself.  Or actually He gathered me.

 

And then I was off. College-bound! Honestly, college is a really messed up thing. Me and Carol were talking about this the other day. It’s a place where kids go and learn and get drunk at the same time. It’s just so damn weird. But anyway, one time me and Michael my pastor in Iowa City, had a conversation about growing up, more or less. He told me that he knew I had made my faith my own, but that my personhood was not yet my own. I was still a product of a controlled environment, and college was and is the time for me to become the man He wants me to be. It took a few months, but eventually thanks to God and JD I found the groups I was supposed to be with and the friends who were supposed to sharpen me. I did well at school and am still recovering from the many failings of my senior year and the shattering that happened in Africa. Depression was at a minimal

 

It’s so funny how He literally has everything planned out. I found that out hard core in college. I have met amazing and God-fearing people in IC and will continue to do so thanks to His unmerited faithfulness to me.

 

So here I am now: growing closer to God, and “finding myself” as they say in shows like the OC.

 

Thank you to, God has used you to change me: Mom. Dad. Brothers. Aunt and Uncle. Cousins. Bumper. Mountjoy. Chris the worship guy with the tatts. Andy my pastor. Noah. Jeremiah. Caroline my friend. Frances. Caleb. Ellie. Craig AKA Keg and his little brother the fighter. Carley. Holly. Jinx. Audra. JD. Coach Helton and his wonderful wife. Cici. Papa. Rick. MJ you are incredible.

 

Since being in college, the same thanks to you: Michael my pastor and your rock-star family. Josh thanks to you and RUF. Stonewall. Peter Yoda. Jeremy and your wonderful wife. Josie. Professor Folsom. Sunday. Vauhini. J Casteel you are me but smart.

 

There are many more not mentioned. Please don’t be offended if you aren’t on there. If we have talked, ever, you have made a difference in my life.

 

Thank you friends and family. Pray for me and I for you.

 

What’s written is written.

 

Thank you Adonai.

Change

To me, New Years is bittersweet and, ultimately, disappointing. It is so for this reason: when a New Year comes around we have hopes and dreams of change and newness, of redemption and second chances, of a clean slate. But as the year goes by and we don’t get our resolutions done (I realize some people actually do) we see that the change and newness hasn’t come, but that we are still the same. I think that New Years is so fragile because we look for things in the New Year that only God can provide: I want to start doing things that I haven’t been and stop doing things I have been, but God is the only Changer of Hearts. A calendar or four-digit number changes nothing.

 

When New Years comes I don’t really know what to do. In the past I haven’t made New Year’s resolutions either because I think I’m anti-establishment (I realize I’m not) or because I always fail at them, and even if I succeed the fruit never tastes as good as it looked in my mind. At the end of December I put a bunch of hopes and dreams on myself, which just adds to the burden I already bear, and when I fail at the things I put on myself, it increases the yoke even more.

 

So here is what I am not going to do this New Year:

-I am not going to make any New Year’s resolutions for myself.

-I am not going to place any hope in myself alone.

-I am not going to try to feel new by myself.

-I am not going to try to rely on myself for change.

-I am not going to try to be my own redeemer.

 

Here’s what I think I’ll do:

-I am going to beg God to take my yoke.

-I am going to tell God to change me.

-I am going to scream at the Lord for redemption and forgiveness.

-I am going to fall flat on my face in the full glory of His radiance.

-I am going to count on the fact that God has New Year’s plans for me, so I don’t have to worry about it.

 

 

 

(make Him do it, He likes it that way) 

Happy New Year

A long December and there's reason to believe 
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving 
Oh the days go by so fast

And it's one more day up in the canyons 
And it's one more night in Hollywood
If you think that I could be forgiven 
I wish you would 

The smell of hospitals in winter 
And the feeling that it's all a lot of oysters, but no pearls
All at once you look across a crowded room
To see the way that light attaches to a girl 

And it's one more day up in the canyons
And it's one more night in Hollywood 
If you think you might come to California
I think you should 

Drove up to Hillside Manor sometime after 2 a.m. 
And talked a little while about the year 
I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower
Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her 

And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last 
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself 
To hold on to these moments as they pass 

And it's one more day up in the canyon 
And it's one more night in Hollywood 
It's been so long since I've seen the ocean
I guess I should