Desiring Life

Desiring Life Has a New Address!!

2007-05-06T17:10:00.000-06:00

http://desiringlife.wordpress.com/

Dwight K. Schrute

2007-05-03T23:08:00.001-06:00

Dwight K. Schrute. Formerly “Assistant to the Regional Manager,” now “Assistant Regional Manager.” I wish we all lived more like The Office’s Dwight. (You Office fans take note that I said more) Thursday reminded me of this. Weirdness and quirkiness aside, Dwight gives us an image of someone completely sold out for a larger story. Without a bigger drama to live in, we will become like Stanley or Phyllis, just trying to pay the bills. Regardless of the situations and circumstances, boring as they might be in an office of cubicles, Dwight is alive.

Last night, Phyllis enters the office in shock, having been flashed in the parking lot. Not a split second later, Dwight bolts down there to save the day. The entire episode is spent tracing the culprit. Weeks back, a disgruntled Roy came to make war against Jim for kissing Pam months earlier. As he violently approaches Jim, Dwight steps in with pepper spray to halt Roy’s assault. Then Dwight fiercely explains that his decision to keep the spray in his desk for eight straight years finally paid off. We then discover he stores knunchucks and throwing stars in the top left drawer of his desk, just in case.

There was the time Pam sent him a top secret note from the FBI, telling him he had been selected for a covert mission. We last see him waiting for a chopter on the roof of a building and eventually destroying his phone after being “compromised.” Dwight becomes a volunteer sheriff when traces of illegal drugs are found. When Jim tricks him into believing he is a vampire (evidence enough of Dwight’s imagination), Dwight prepares a crucifix out of a broomstick.

Everything is a conspiracy. He is always ready for battle. There’s a simple and dramatic solution to everything. Something always requires his advice, bravery, or expertise. After all, he has the heroic legacy of the Schrute family line to uphold. Odd as it sounds and hate it as you might, we all need a little Dwight in our own story.

Jesus...The Man

2007-04-07T12:04:00.000-06:00

Jesus. What images form in your head at the mention of his name? I was reading in John this morning, attempting to send my heart into Easter mode. I confess it doesn’t always get there. I wanted to enter into the defeat of what it must have been like to see Jesus slaughtered and buried. I came away in awe, not about the loss of hope, but instead about the man Jesus was. I don’t mean man as in God in human form, but the kind of man that would be bragged about sitting around a campfire or in a locker room. Stud. Warrior. Hero.

In chapter 18, John describes in detail the arrest in the garden.

Then Jesus, knowing all that would happen to him, came forward and said to them, "Whom do you seek?" (John 18:4, ESV, italics mine)

I love those italicized words. Jesus is in complete control. He knows not only what’s going on, but is wholly intent on entering into the pain and chaos. He even initiates it all. “Whom do you seek?” I can only imagine the weakness in Judas’ voice as he replied. Upon Jesus’ answer, the Pharisees and soldiers collapse. Again Jesus speaks. “Whom do you seek?...I told you that I am he. So, if you seek me, let these men go.” Within hours of death, Jesus offers no attempt to protect himself, only those behind him.

Compare this example to the first man in another garden. When the Enemy slithers in, Adam doesn’t know what’s going on. He is not in control. He is there, but without a hoe or shovel in hand. He makes no move to act or speak. He is silent. He is weak. He does not protect Eve, but lets her take the fall. He is the definition of self-protection. He shows no strength, and the chaos overwhelms him.

Now my heart is ready to celebrate. Adam is not the defining sculpt of a man. I meet, see, and am Adam everyday. My heart longs for Jesus. Oh to be in the care of such a King. Adam is ruled by chaos. Jesus rules over the chaos. Thank God. Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews. Life is available because of a man, a stud, a warrior, a hero.

For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. (1 Corinthians 15:21-22, ESV)

One Shining Moment...NCAA Final Four 2007

2007-04-02T05:51:00.000-06:00

I just returned from the Final Four in Atlanta. At times I forgot there was even a game being played. Our tickets happened to be in the NCAA coach’s section. Tom Izzo, Michigan State’s head basketball coach was about 10 rows back. Two rows behind him was Doc Rivers (former NBA player and coach). Also sitting quite close to me was Bo Ryan (Wisconsin), John Calipari (Memphis), and Steve Alford. Tim Robbins, a diehard UCLA supporter, sat within speaking distance. Last but not least was Jim Boeheim (Syracuse) and his wife Juli, who sat three seats to my right. Honestly, I’m not sure who’s more of a celebrity between the two of them.

During timeouts, I found myself quite star-struck, standing up to scan the rows of faces all around me, looking for the next famous smile. It really was almost as fun as watching basketball. As I was caught up in the hoops hysteria, a C.S. Lewis quotation flashed across my mind.

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations--these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit--immortal horrors or everlasting splendours. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of the kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously--no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinners--no mere tolerance, or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses. If he is your Christian neighbour, he is holy in almost the same way, for in him also Christ vere latitat, the glorifier and the glorified, Glory Himself, is truly hidden.

There are no ordinary people. If we were to really see deep inside the soul of the man who takes our money at the concession stand or the girl with the yellow “Event Staff” jacket who stands to check my ticket, we would be tempted to worship. They are made in the image of God. We already worship people, but only certain ones. The people listed in the beginning are worshiped by ESPN viewers on a weekly basis, especially from the months of October to March. It’s madness, not March, but the power we give people. I was star-struck, but it both lessened and increased as I talked to the man next to me. Steve is in the barbeque business and he likes to ride motorcycles. He hopes Florida will win the national title (please pray for him). I realized C.S. Lewis is right, and it should affect the way I view, judge, and dismiss people.

Kristi McLelland sat four rows behind me. You probably don’t know her. Neither did 55,000 others at the Georgia Dome Saturday night. But if they did, they would have pointed at her with greater excitement than I looked at Jim Boeheim, Tom Izzo, and John Calipari. Kristi writes and disciples. She is a woman in whom the Spirit of God dwells. She knows the Word deeply and affects the lives of many people in her church. God uses her mightily and she reflects his image fiercely.

I had tickets to Monday’s championship game, but I can’t make it. Instead I am going to listen to the stories of some of my friends. Our time may not be broadcasted on CBS, but I will be in the midst of glorious immortals. Together we will journey, to enter into each other’s “immortal horrors” and “everlasting splendors,” hoping to find and see God better. And, hard as it might be to grasp, it will surpass experiencing One Shining Moment.

To Face a Wasp

2007-03-28T18:35:00.000-06:00

The sweet noises are returning. Birds. Crickets. Children’s laughter and bouncing balls down on the cul-de-sac. Praise God. The reality of redemption from the death of winter is happening. I was out on the deck enjoying it all when I heard it. That familiar buzzing sound was back, too. Looking up, the fierce little devil swooped by me on a Top Gun fly-by mission. A wasp, stinger fresh and ready, just waiting. The universal reaction flashed across my mind, “Protect yourself!” Two seconds later, the safety of the indoors surrounded me.

I think relationships work much like this. They begin beautifully, or maybe politely. Small talk, a few laughs, and an invitation to keep relating. At some point though, in each friendship, we feel threatened. It might be due our own condemning voice within, or it could be a subtle threat from the other person. Either way, our instincts are the same: Self-Protection. Self-Preservation. Don't get hurt, or exposed. As quickly as I jump to escape the threatening hornet, I flee the tension of a relationship to guard the fearful places. Only an invitation of love and safety draws me back out.

We are meant to encourage one another daily. If we don’t do so, the concrete of sin will set and the patterns of self-protection will harden. Sin will then both define our personality and our way of handling the uncertainty and struggle for life. We are meant to be stirred daily to love and good deeds. Without that, the good food of our soul will settle to the bottom of the pot and burn.

I think you are tempted to relate to others much in the same way as me. Which means that others are too. I want to learn from this pattern, which means learning to invite others out with the encouragement that Allender suggests (above). After all, Crabb says, “Beneath every style of relating, and beneath every controversial exchange, is an energy that reflects either our fallenness or our redemption.” Too often it’s the former. It’s time to dream about the latter, which is instead self-less.

Woo and love someone out of self-protection today with invitation.

Wanting More than Food

2007-03-23T10:35:00.000-06:00

Knowing the cook can be an even greater pleasure than enjoying his food.
-Larry Crabb, Finding God

Regardless of a person’s circumstances and physical well-being, this statement applies. Of course there’s nothing wrong with enjoying the food. But knowing and tasting God is the point. How quickly I forget. For the most part, God exists and becomes a help in solving problems. A resource to notify when pain needs to be taken away. Much like a doctor who prescribes medication.

Listen to your prayers throughout the day. Are they centered on “God, this situation is hard, help me clear it up and get through it,” or “God, I don’t know what to do and the pain is real. Help me to trust that you are good regardless of what the outcome is”? When in pain or struggle, I tend to approach someone older and wiser in an attempt to have my pain cured or problem solved. Just get me through this and stop the hurt. How many counselors make their living off situations like these?

We all desire Life. Jesus promises it (John 10:10). It just doesn’t happen the way we want it to. My God, how maddening. The chaos of life threatens our homes built on the sand. How sweet of a resting place it would be to experience the following story:

You and I walk into a 5-star restaurant. Before we can give the host our name and table preference, she welcomes us by name, tells us the chef has already notified her of our arrival, and she brings us to our seats. The menu given to us is personally tailored to each of our tastes. As we look over the choices, our mouths salivating and our stomachs growling, we suddenly realize the food is not why the restaurant was built. Setting the menus down, and skipping the wine, we head towards the kitchen, this time it’s our hearts that ache. Before we even reach the doors, they swing open and the cook is running our way.

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!

Psalm 34:8

Seeing Life as a Story

2007-03-20T13:23:00.000-06:00

In The Way of the Wild Heart, Eldredge writes, "That is why any of the great stories stay with us- they are trying to speak to us about something crucial to life." A significant question. One that I know about because of experience. Ever so important, as (quoted earlier in the book), Norman Maclean wrote, "The nearest anyone can come to finding himself at any given age is to find a story that somehow tells him about himself."

What are the stories that speak to and sustain you? What are the dramas that open your eyes to your own experience in this Meta-narrative?

A very few of mine...A River Runs Through It, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Henry V, We Were Soldiers, and The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe (believe it or not, the old PBS version caught my heart first).

Forgetting the Gandalfs

2007-03-18T18:16:00.000-06:00

Every morning he slowly departs his black truck, parked just to the side of the road, and makes his way to his spot on the corner. After fitting his orange reflector vest around both shoulders, the gray haired man is ready. Holding a wooden STOP sign in his dangling left hand, he looks up to greet the first to approach the four way stop. Each morning I drive up from behind him. As my car brakes (because the real stop sign in the ground commands me), I can’t help but look his way. He smiles and waves, just as he does to other cars that pass. He looks happy. Maybe he is. I hate it.

I don’t know his situation, and it’s probably very wrong for me to judge him. But each time I see his hunched body, the orange vest marked “Pedestrian Crossing” hanging on him, and his gray hair shining in the morning sun, I get sad and angry. Essentially, this is what our culture offers a man in the late stages of his life: a chance to wave to morning commuters. In such a season of life when a man should be giving back, counseling, and directing those less experienced in life, we stick him on the dusty shelf and attempt to make him feel purposeful (or we smile at him while he plays golf). And all the while we are thinking, “Move over, old fella, let the young guns have a shot at running this world.”

I long (and the culture does too, though they don’t know it) for a society like the one exemplified in The Last of the Mohicans. Nathaniel, the hero of the drama, has just been forced to allow the beauty of the film, Cora, to be taken captive by the evil Magua. Magua and the Native Americans he is with return to their village with Cora, her sister, and a British general. Before any decision can be made on their lives (Magua would kill all three if up to him), the tribe’s wise man must be consulted. The whole village gathers around him, eagerly anticipating his powerful opinion.

It would be exceptionally better to grow up in a society such as this, where age is valued and each gray hair represents a sliver of wisdom. To know that your domain and influence will only increase as your hair loses color. Instead, culture tells us that if we are not retired and on the golf course by 55 or 60, then we should get out of the way so the slick newcomers can run things. I can’t imagine the guidance and wisdom we have missed out on by grooming the elderly to wave at the important drivers on their way to work where they will make a valuable contribution to the world.

The glory of young men is their strength,
And the honor of old men is their gray hair. -Proverbs 20:29

Sweet 16!!!

2007-03-18T13:08:00.000-06:00

Congratulations to the Tennessee Volunteers, heading to the Sweet 16 with a 77-74 win over Virginia.

NCAA Tournament Paradise: The Dance is Now

2007-03-16T09:29:00.000-06:00

This morning is a toast, to the best weekend of the year. We are (in my opinion) amidst the greatest four-day stretch of the sports year. 48 college basketball games in 4 days. Ah, yes. The time to fill out your bracket is passed. Now it's time to sit back and squirm as the mid-major programs upset the big guys over and over and cause you to throw away your bracket just as soon as you filled it out. For those students still in high school, it's time to sneak out of class to find your way into the coach's office to catch 10 minutes of the current game. Take a long bathroom break. Get sick and go home. If you're in college, going to class isn't even an option. Stay in the dorm or fraternity house. Don't get off the couch.

But how in the world can you ever predict a winner in this thing we call "The Dance"? Well, you can't. But here is a guy who thinks he has discovered a formula.

In the end, the one who picks the Final Four teams will be the lady who picked one team due to having a cousin who knew a girl who knew a guy that went to school there, another team because of their cuddly looking mascot, the third team because their jerseys match her favorite color, and the fourth team because she would someday like to visit North Carolina. And this is the kind of person who wins the bracket contest.

For me, I will sit back and hope my beloved Volunteers can find a way to reverse their typical post-season fate and make a run to the Sweet 16.

Trusting the Good and Unsafe Lion

2007-03-14T19:00:00.000-06:00

This piece from The Sacred Romance struck me today and caused me to struggle with God.

...there is something about God’s rescues that make them a little less timely than dialing 911. He leaves Abraham with his knife raised and ready to plunge into Isaac’s heart, and Isaac waiting for the knife to descend; he leaves Joseph languishing for years in an Egyptian prison; he allows the Israelites to suffer four hundred years of bondage under the Egyptians and leaves those same Israelites backed against the Red Sea with Pharaoh’s chariots thundering down on them. He abandons Jesus to the cross and does not rescue him at all. And then there are those of us who, along with the saints under heaven’s very altar, are groaning under the weight of things gone wrong, waiting for that same Jesus to return and sweep us up with him in power and glory. “How long, O Lord?” we whisper in our weariness and pain.

Indeed, God calls us to battles where the deck appears stacked in favor of those who are his enemies and ours, just to increase the drama of the play. And there is the clear picture, even from God himself, that he does so to enhance his own glory.

That last line grips me. We wait and groan and cry out...and all of it fits into a small sliver of a scene that will and does bring everlasting glory to God. We battle with faith and pain, but all for beautifying His name. How do you accept this and still trust in God's goodness?

My Own Omaha Beach

2007-03-11T09:47:00.000-06:00

I walked Omaha Beach after reading Stephen Ambrose’s D-Day. The experience stands as one of the best days of my life. I felt called there on that day. So much history, heroism, and courage lived on that beachfront. So many stories I want to taste. Enter into. Touch. I began the day hoping to find something there. Hoping to enter into the reality of what happened in a more real way. Leading up to my tour, I had studied maps, listened to stories, read books, and watched movies. But alas, by day’s end I was let down. No amount of time spent on the beach could fulfill the yearning to understand, know, touch, and live the significance of June 6, 1944.

Recently I visited the neighborhood I grew up in, a place where a lot of great things happened. But also the place where my soul was torn and wounded. And that was why I went. To seek to understand more clearly what happened there. Before arriving, I peered off into the direction where I knew the house to be. Still miles away, I felt as if I was looking at a map. I know my house is there. And the neighborhood. And the place where I ran with my dog. Then it hit me: This was my own Omaha Beach. The destruction that seared its way through my heart, like a machine gunner’s bullet, happened there. It could all be mapped out. When all was over, I was left bleeding on the beach. Barely able to move and too scared to try.

Revisiting my neighborhood was much like walking in Normandy, France. Hard as I tried and bad as I wanted to, it was impossible to re-enter the past. Vivid memories did return, as well as some healing, but I left knowing I couldn’t bring the past back. Like Norman Maclean at the end of A River Runs Through It, I felt as if I walked the streets like it was the river of connection and redemption.

We each have our own bloody beachfront. The place and time where life was ripped from us. I found myself wondering what it would really be like if we knew one another’s stories well enough to return to each other’s Omaha Beaches; to look upon them with the same awe as I did the battlefields in Normandy. We would recognize the incredible significance of what happened there, when the heart was seared and the vows were made to never open those places back up.

Poker's The Mouth

2007-03-08T22:01:00.000-06:00

On ESPN SportsCenter there was an up close profile on a professional poker player, a guy named The Mouth. Maybe some of you have heard of him. I haven’t, until now. His story goes that he got involved with poker and gambling in 1993, and now his lives for it. He’s lived for it 13 years. During that time, he has lost over 4 million dollars, not to mention going to jail at least once. It was hard to pay total attention to the story because I was getting dressed for work. However, one statement caught me:

“Playing poker is better than sex. It is the strongest drug in the world.”

Wow. I’m a guy. I know the place sex holds on most male priority charts. Poker? Everything I was thinking, trying to find words as the show went on, searching for any words that might paint the real story right (the one of the heart), he simply spoke for me. He did as good of a job reading his own soul than anyone could have. I felt sorry for him. He gets it. He understands. And yet, he doesn’t know his way out of the dark hole; nor does he want out.

“If they had had internet poker while I was in jail, I would not have ever cared to leave.”

That paints a vivid picture for me. Chains. The darkness of a cell. Damp. The lack of human connection or relationship. Shutting others out. One phone call every now and then. I know the pull of a drug. I have lived just like him, not with poker, but with other things. I’ve spent time watching men throw money away week after week to bet on the latest college football games, only to be hundreds of dollars in debt. Addiction. What a thrill it is to experience just a few moments of ache-free living.

Another word comes to mind, one that seems to loom in a realm deeper than addiction: Adventure. We were made for it, you know. Whether we look for it in good places or bad, the design for it leads to the desire to pursue it. I have the opportunity to spend time with a good number of 11 and 12 year old boys. On average, it takes about 0.5 seconds to recognize the design and desire for adventure in them. I hear stories…blowing up fireworks, hunting for deer, shooting BB guns at each other in the back yard, riding four-wheelers (they never fail to let me know how fast they are going)…the list could go on.

I wonder what sorts of games The Mouth played when he was 11 or 12. Were his choices of adventures pure and fun then? When did he pick up his first deck of cards? Surely the first game of UNO was just for fun. Did he know the well he was digging when he bet his first dollar? What happened to his friends along the way as he kept digging? What damage was done? Does he have any friends now?

Picture Jesus sitting down to play a game of cards with him (I know some can’t fathom Christ playing cards). Not for money, just for fun. What would the table conversation be like? I said before that The Mouth knew himself just as well as anyone. But not Jesus. Would The Mouth know what to do when Jesus offered him a taste of adventure that is more real and true than the broken well in which he lives?

Claim The Life You Deserve

2007-03-04T21:41:00.000-06:00

I read the back of a cereal box yesterday. It decreed in great bold letters, “CLAIM THE LIFE YOU DESERVE.” A picture of healthy, athletic-looking man posing a great big smile stood just under the heading. Good grief, I get all that for buying cereal? It didn’t sit well with me. I almost bought it. Not the cereal, but the message. Its appeal nearly won me over, probably because we have this belief thrown at us all the time. You deserve a great life. I think the power of the message pulls from two ideas: (1) Happiness is the goal of life, and (2) We deserve that goal.

Now the first of these John Piper would agree with, but not in the way that most people would think. Piper’s Christian Hedonism states that we are most filled with joy when God is most glorified, thus both being satisfied in the other. But even then, God being glorified is the goal, not our happiness. But I think we have the tendency to separate the two in responding to the cereal box. Try fasting for a day. I’m amazed at the words my body screams at me when it demands immediate relief. When things are hard with my wife, my mind floats off to something that can make me happier. A small piece of chocolate in the kitchen, a TV show to watch, or tasting beauty in some form. Study yourself. We operate as if gratification is the point.

Most world religions are built on contentment, answering our questions about our obvious brokenness. We think answers will satisfy. Personal contentment seems to be the answer for most people. If they have an answer, the disappointments of life can be numbed. Christianese might even say that we were made to be happy. We say we’re living for another home in heaven, but we act as if God exists to meet our needs and demands here on earth.

Paul clearly explains that we do not deserve to be happy (Romans 3:23, 6:23). Made for it, yes…deserve it, no. Maybe we should begin to see Christianity this side of heaven as not being about contentment, but rather about entering into brokenness. After all, that’s where we are in the Story. And we won’t find redemption and a longing for home until we’ve set aside our demands. Maybe if we did that, then glorifying God would become the goal. And then, maybe then, we would experience the Life we don’t deserve.

I’m going to eat some cereal.

Adam and Eve...When Marriage Was Perfect

2007-03-02T06:30:00.000-06:00

Our community group laughed a lot last night as we divided up into two groups of men and women to discuss how life would have been different for Adam and Eve's marriage before the Fall. Here are some of the ideas. You can probably guess which came from each group.

No In-Laws to deal with
Lots of bathroom space
Since there were no need for clothes, Adam never had to answer to, "Hey Sweetie, does this make me look fat?"
No registering or wedding planning
Eve never left an empty gas tank in the car
They were on time to everything
No arguments over when to shave
No cultural influences
Adam never heard, "I don't have anything to wear."
No family pictures
No sex arguments
Everyday of the month was pleasant for both of them
No arguments over whose parents to visit for the holidays
No previous expectations for the marriage
No other women to tempt Adam to stumble
No fights over money or budget
There was no question of whether he or she was "the one"

What else?

What's In a Name? (Part 5)

2007-02-27T20:58:00.000-06:00

As I take a look deeper, it seems that living to offer life to others through personal sacrifice is the real way to make a name remembered. And in comes the paradox: the only way to live in such a way is to be caught up in service to something greater than yourself, thus not living for your name at all, but someone or something else’s glory. So to aspire to become great is to start out defeated before ever beginning.

What's In a Name? (Part 4)

2007-02-25T15:52:00.000-06:00

I was convicted one day. I was reading through Scripture and came to one of those places in the Old Testament where there is a list of names. Try 1 Chronicles 9:10-13, for example. Read aloud, it sounds something like this: “Jedaiah, Jehoiarib, Jachin, and Azariah the son of Hilkiah, son of Meshullam, son of Zodak, son of Meraioth, son of Ahitub…and Adaiah the son of Jahzerah, son of Meshullam, son of Meshillemith, son of Immer…mighty men for the work of the service of the house of God.”

I don’t really know these guys' stories; maybe I could find out more if I did some research. What struck me was just that: No one knows who these guys are. Aside from the seminary professor in class, nobody brings their names up at the dinner table or talks about their greatness over coffee. These guys have their names printed in the Word of God, the most famous book in the world, and yet hardly anyone has done anything but skim over their names. Their names are not remembered. They did not achieve “household name” status. And yet, they are labeled as “mighty men” in the Scriptures. What more could any man want?

My flesh wants so badly to become a household name. Something in me foolishly even thinks I could become that. Even if I did though, would it last longer than my generation? Is it worth living for my own name?

What's In a Name? (Part 3)

2007-02-23T19:13:00.000-06:00

When I look back on what I’ve learned from history, two main categories jump out at me in relation to the remembrance of names. The first is those who try to increase the size of their name, usually by means of gaining and forcing power on people. The other is those whom, like Steve, develop a dislocated heart for a certain cause or persons and spend their life sacrificing for them.

My friend Ted brought my attention to Troy, which illustrates this so well. Brad Pitt’s character, Achilles, spends the entire movie fighting and living for personal pleasure. He is a mercenary, caring only for his own well-being and what others will remember him by. As a mercenary soldier, he has a decision of whether he wants to fight in each battle. There comes a point in the movie when an oracle warns him that if he leaves to fight in the movie’s last battle, he will make his name great, but will surely die. He does not have to think about it long; he boards the ship to seek his own renown.

Then there is Achilles’ rival, Hector, a true king. Hector is forced to battle through circumstances he could not have controlled. He fights valiantly, not for himself, but for his family and the people he is called to protect. I want to be Hector. 99% of the time, I feel like I am Achilles. I am embarrassed when I really reflect on how much energy I spend pondering how to make my name remembered for my own sake. Most of the time, this all happens subconsciously. But it is there.

What's In a Name? (Part 2)

2007-02-21T20:39:00.001-06:00

During the next hour, I attended a session that was a notch less than engaging. However, one story stood out to me. There was a student in school that struggled with getting to class on time. When it became a routine occurrence, the teacher confronted him. Although the student understood the importance and consequences, his behavioral pattern continued for the rest of the year. It was not until this student came back years later that the teacher understood why it had happened. The student was gay, and thus, singled out as a prime target for both verbal and physical bullying. By hiding in his locker while the other students changed classes, this boy was able to avoid the abuse at the cost of being tardy, a relatively small price to pay. The teacher’s name was Steve Ham. Steve was so crushed to hear the student’s story, wishing he could have known when he would have had the opportunity to intervene. Steve used this experience as motivation to change the entire school system’s perspective towards bullying. I can’t imagine the number the students who were rescued by Steve’s action.

Steve Ham. What’s in the remembering of a name? When Steve set out to open other’s eyes to the problem of bullying, he was motivated not by making his name known, but by what he could offer other people. The story was convicting. How many of us work long and hard to enlarge the recognition of our own name? How much energy is spent working towards maximizing the number of times our name is repeated by others? I confess that I want to see my name on a book. Where do you hope to see your name? On a certain desk in the corner office? On a trophy? On a blog that you hope more than 2 people will read?

What's In a Name? (Part 1)

2007-02-20T18:46:00.000-06:00

What is in a name? I was recently at a conference and as one of the speakers told story after story, I began to flip through the program guide for the weekend. Towards the back of the quite thick program, there were advertisements for books centered on similar content of the conference. Next to each book was the name of the author and also a small picture; you know the kind, like ones in a grade school yearbook. Something in my heart yearned and turned as I flipped through this section. Frankly, I had no desire at all to read any of the books, nor write a book on similar topics. But, I wanted my picture on one of the pages, next to a book I had written. My mind immediately began to throw around ideas worth writing about. What would people want to read that I could write about? Now, very little of this has to do with me wanting to meet someone’s need or thirst with words of life. Most of it revolves around strategizing to get my picture and name next to a book so that some other guy can flip through a program as he sits through a conference.

A Salute to You Parents

2007-02-17T12:30:00.000-06:00

Sorry I’ve been away for awhile. I’m living in a season right now that demands more action than contemplation. I have some thoughts stirring though. Perhaps I will have time to share them a bit later. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could hit pause on life? It would be like Tivo-life. Probably some pros and cons to that.

Well, in the brief moment I have right now, in between making lunches and breaking up fights, I must commend you parents. My wife and I are baby-sitting our friend’s three kids for three days. Wow. To you parents, I am blown away at the extent you are required to give of your energy and heart. Rest assured, you have become my new heroes. In this period, my approach to the day has changed. It’s like life has forced me to realize that things really aren’t about me. Rather than asking, “What can I receive?” It is now, “What can I give?” Maybe parenthood is one of God’s severe mercies.

To you parents reading, know that if I could, I would buy all of you shiny gold plaques to put on your wall.

John Eldredge, Ransomed Heart, and Epic

2007-02-12T17:04:00.000-06:00

Last post I talked about the Story, the Meta-Narrative. I had fun playing around on this website, put together by Ransomed Heart. It takes you deeper into the Epic. I also added some new books to my reading list. Check it out:

http://epicreality.com/

The Office and the end of The Story

2007-02-07T18:45:00.000-06:00

A friend lent my wife and I season 2 of The Office. It is has taken us approximately three days to view over half of the episodes. We love it. The writing is brilliant, and Jim and Dwight simply carry the show. Something has grabbed me, though, that I did not expect. A love story. I’m a bit ashamed to admit it. Just as Titanic’s epic romance did for so many people around the world, Jim and Pam’s love struggle affects my heart in a way love stories used to, before innocence was lost and the world blinded me from God.

Before we began season 2, my wife blew the ending, informing me that the two kiss at the end of the last episode. I didn’t care then, not yet having been pulled into the romance. But now my heart is pulled in, and I had an epiphery (to use Michael Scott’s dictionary). Knowing the final scene doesn’t diminish or lessen the hoping, tension, and yearning for Jim to win Pam’s heart and kiss her. In fact, knowing the story ends well only heightens the anticipation and drama. Unfortunately, I don’t know how Jim and Pam will end up when The Office eventually ends (hopefully never). But in real life, I must know how the story ends.

God, I need this to be true. In our postmodern world, the idea that life is a story may be too easily accepted or too quickly discarded. But it’s true. And we must know how it ends. We must. It would change how we live, the energy we bring to each day, the focus we give to each moment. And like Jim and Pam’s love story, knowing how the Larger Story ends would only increase our anticipation and longing for it. How does the story end for those who have been ransomed by the Hero? To better answer this and stay close to the 300 word goal I set for blogs, I leave you with some wells that give me a taste of eternal water…

The Last Battle, by C.S. Lewis

Chapter 12 “Coming Home” in The Sacred Romance, by Brent Curtis and John Eldredge

The last 5 minutes of the movie Gladiator

“Into the West,” a song by Annie Lennox

(pictures from nbc.com)

Indianapolis Colts' Tony Dungy before the Super Bowl

2007-02-04T12:20:00.000-06:00

Today, Tony Dungy will coach the Indianapolis Colts in the Superbowl. Someone showed me this story and I found it worth passing along. The following article relates what this coach shared at a breakfast before last year's Superbowl.

"Spreading His Message"

They were there for breakfast, and they were there to cheer New York Jets running back Curtis Martin. And it was Martin who received the Athletes in Action Bart Starr Award Saturday morning. But the hundreds who gathered in fourth-floor ballroom at the Marriott Renaissance in Detroit, Mich., on the morning before Super Bowl XL were clearly touched by the featured speaker.

That speaker was Colts Head Coach Tony Dungy.

Two hours into the breakfast, emcee Brent Jones introduced Dungy, who was welcomed with a lengthy standing ovation. Dungy thanked the crowd, shared an anecdote about Martin, then told the crowd he was going to speak for about
15 minutes.

"It's great to be here," Dungy told the crowd, then adding with a laugh, "I just wish I wasn't here in this capacity so many times of being just that close to being in the game and just being an invited speaker. My goal is to have our team here one day and have a couple of tables with all of our guys here. Because we have a special group of young men, a great group of Christian guys. It'd be wonderful to have them here so you could see their hearts and what they're all about."

"It hasn't quite happened yet, but we're still hoping one day it will." He told them he was going to talk about lessons he had learned from his three sons. The crowd fell silent. Then Dungy spoke.

Although this was a breakfast - and although at many such events speakers speak over the clinking of glasses and murmurs from semi-interested listeners - for most of the 15 minutes the room was silent except f or Dungy's voice.

He spoke of his middle son, Eric, who he said shares his competitiveness and who is focused on sports "to where it's almost a problem." He spoke of his youngest son, Jordan, who has a rare congenital condition which causes him not to feel pain. "He feels things, but he doesn't get the sensation of pain," Dungy said.

The lessons learned from Jordan, Tony Dungy said, are many. "That sounds like it's good at the beginning, but I promise you it's not," Dungy said. "We've learned a lot about pain in the last five years we've had Jordan. We've learned some hurts are really necessary for kids. Pain is necessary for kids to find out the difference between what's good and what's harmful."

Jordan, Dungy said, loves cookies. "Cookies are good," Dungy said, "but in Jordan's mind, if they're good out on the plate, they're even better in the oven. He will go right in the oven when my wife's not looking, reach in, take the rack out, take the pan out, burn his hands and eat the cookies and burn his tongue and never feel it. He doesn't know that's bad for him."

Jordan, Dungy said, "has no fear of anything, so we constantly have to watch him." The lesson learned, Dungy said, is simple.

"You get the question all the time, 'Why does the Lord allow pain in your life? Why do bad things happen to good people? If God is a God of love, why does he allow these hurtful things to happen?' Dungy said. "We've learned that a lot of times because of that pain, that little temporary pain, you learn what's harmful. You learn to fear the right things.

"Pain sometimes lets us know we have a condition that needs to be healed. Pain inside sometimes lets us know that spiritually we're not quite right and we need to be healed and that God will send that healing agent right to the spot. "Sometimes, pain is the only way that will turn us as kids back to the Father."

Finally, he spoke of James.

James Dungy, Tony Dungy's oldest son, died three days before Christmas. As he did while delivering James' eulogy in December, Dungy on Saturday spoke of him eloquently and steadily, speaking of lessons learned and of the positives taken from experience.

"It was tough, and it was very, very painful, but as painful as it was, there were some good things that came out of it," Dungy said.

Dungy spoke at the funeral of regretting not hugging James the last time he saw him, on Thanksgiving of last year. "I met a guy the next day after the funeral," Dungy said. "He said, 'I was there. I heard you talking. I took off work today. I called my son. I told him I was taking him to the movies. We're going to spend some time and go to dinner.' That was a real, real blessing to me."

Dungy said he has gotten many letters since James' death relaying similar messages. "People heard what I said and said, 'Hey, you brought me a little closer to my son,' or, 'You brought me a little closer to my daughter,' Dungy said. "That is a tremendous blessing."

Dungy also said some of James' organs were donated through donors programs. "We got a letter back two weeks ago that two people had received his corneas, and now they can see,' Dungy said. "That's been a tremendous blessing."

Dungy also said he received a letter from a girl from the family's church in Tampa. She had known James for many years, Dungy said. She went to the funeral b ecause she knew James.

"When I saw what happened at funeral, and your family and the celebration and how it was handled, that was the first time I realized there had to be a God," Dungy said the girl wrote. "I accepted Christ into my life and my life's been different since that day." Added Dungy, "That was an awesome blessing, so all of those things kind of made me realize what God's love is all about."

Dungy also said he was asked often how he was able to return to the Colts so quickly after James' death. James died on December 22, and Dungy returned to the team one week later. Dungy said the answer was simple. "People asked me, 'How did you recover so quickly?"' Dungy said. "I'm not totally recovered. I don't know that I ever will be. It's still very, very painful, but I was able to come back because of something one of my good Christian friends said to me after the funeral.

"He said, 'You know James accepted Christ into his heart, so you know he's in heaven, right?' I said, 'Right, I know that.' He said, 'So, with all you know about heaven, if you had the power to bring him back now, would you?'

When I thought about it, I said, 'No, I wouldn't. I would not want him back with what I know about heaven.'

"That's what helped me through the grieving process. Because of Christ's spirit in me, I had that confidence that James is there, at peace with the Lord, and I have the peace of mind in the midst of something that's very, very painful. That's my prayer today, that everyone in this room would know the same thing"

Written by John Oehser. "NFL Insider" Posted in February, 2006 at www.colts.com
(picture taken from colts.com)

Playboy Sex Nudity Nude Women Love Adult XXX

2007-02-02T15:09:00.000-06:00

“Every man who knocks on the door of a brothel is looking for God”
-G.K. Chesterton

“The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust in them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself, they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers.”
-C.S. Lewis

This blog is really an experiment. An experiment about the heart and its longings. It was posted to satisfy my curiosity, but who knows what God might do with it in you. During the last month, two blogs were published on this site that contained these words in their title, “Playboy, Michelle Manhart, and Adult XXX.” It was astounding to me that that this humble little blog received such an incredible amount of views on those days. Desiring Life averages 5 views per day. On the “Playboy’s Michelle Manhart” day, I think it reached close to 267 views. There were no pictures. Only words in a title.

Immediately I thought of the G.K. Chesterton quotation above. “Every man who knocks on the door of a brothel is looking for God.” The thought only comes into clearer focus with the help of C.S. Lewis. Our actions reveal our search for Life. Whether it be through eating, work, ministry, money, marriage, pornography, or sex.

I have become more and more convinced that Jesus really is the answer to every desire we have. If Christ is the image of the invisible God (Colossians 1:15), and it is God who created beauty and fashioned us to be sustained on him, then we might do well to at least think about that. The claims Jesus makes about himself all reflect our desire. The woman at the well. The rich man asked to sell everything. The disciples. The blind man at the pool. All those parables about treasure and a pearl. But what about for the man searching the internet for sex and nudity, or for the woman posing on the XXX sites?

I find it fascinating in John 7:37-38 that Jesus waited until the end of this feast to say what he does. I imagine myself and my fraternity brothers in the days leading up to a football game and the all-night party to follow. Anticipation and excitement grew with each day. People around campus would talk about it. Guests lists would be filled out. The band would arrive and set up. The kegs were brought in. After the game, the fraternity house would slowly and steadily grow louder and louder. The girls would come, scantily dressed. It seems Jesus knew the best time to offer Life to people. He waits until the end of the party, when the realization that the promising satiating activities of the night before prove to be liars.

“If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’”

Made in China

2007-01-30T18:19:00.000-06:00

Is anything other than Ford made in the United States? A quick story. I was talking with a 10 year old the other day and he became convinced that nothing is made in the US. “Luke, everything is made in China.” All the toys he got for Christmas. All the clothes we wear. He finally got up in my face, like he was about to confront me or pick a fight. “Take off your jacket. I guarantee it was made in China.” With unquestioning obedience, I did as told. Sure enough, the tag read, “Made in China.”

Like Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes, he drove home his final point: “I bet if you checked behind your ear, it would say, ‘Made in Taiwan.’ ”

An Hour with a Gandalf

2007-01-28T13:51:00.000-06:00

If you visit any major airport, you will have plenty of chances to see airplanes ascend into the sky. They are just beginning their journey. For a commercial airliner to accomplish its purpose, it must land at its destination, preferably on time. It must arrive.

I haven’t “arrived” yet. Not in traveling, but in life. It seems that in the back ours minds, there is this hope that one day (this side of heaven) we will fully become who we always dreamed of becoming. We think it will happen once we land that dream job or gain certain recognition or finally begin to offer our energy and time sacrificially in the way we once witnessed our heroes do. They have incredible impact on people. When I have the kind of impact they do, then I will have “arrived.”

With this somewhere in the back of my mind, I sat under a mentor of mine yesterday. I think of him as a spiritual guru. Every white hair on his head is an indication of the wisdom he holds. He knows and understands the heart better than I know the alphabet. We were discussing manhood and a book I had just finished reading, The Wild Man’s Journey. The author, Richard Rohr, conducts “Rites of Passage” retreats, designed to spiritually initiate men into a deeper masculinity. My mentor began telling me about them. Before I could ask any questions or comment, he began talking about applying. Not me applying, but him. He is over 55 years old.

As I left our time together, it hit me. I envision myself “arriving” when I become a guru like him. Then I will be an expert on life. Rather than focusing this last paragraph on my own foolishness, let’s talk about his humility. My attempt to put words to the weight of this man’s life is futile. He could be directing and teaching retreats, speaking to other young men on the process of becoming a man. He could be authoring his own book on initiation and rites of passage. Many people I know would be happy to possess half of his wisdom. Yet, the guru is humble enough to know that there is always something more to learn.

“I do not think much of a man who is not wiser today than he was yesterday” –Abraham Lincoln

“When a leader stops learning, his development as a leader ends.” –Howard Hendricks

2007-01-27T13:49:00.000-06:00

The world has yet to see what God can do with and for and through and in and by the man who is fully and wholly consecrated to Him. I will try my utmost to be that man. -D.L. Moody

How Anger Could Advance the Kingdom...

2007-01-25T19:43:00.000-06:00

I am angry at you. Freaking pissed. It takes everything I have not to jump out of my seat and punch you square in the face.

I wonder what you are feeling right now. My guess is defensive. I caught a vision this week of something that could be life changing. And it has to do with you being angry at me. And me being angry at you.

Follow with me for a moment. We are wounded people. All of us. Each person has places in their heart that they are afraid to reveal. Those places have been bullied in middle school, abandoned by fearful fathers, and abused by the world (to name a few). Someone once said that it is the image of God in us at which Satan aims his sharpest arrows. The result? Look around. We are walking wounded. And much to our disappointment, the moment we accept Christ does not immediately heal our broken places and free us to live fully for the world to see. Instead, it is only the starting point of a journey that invites us to take step towards healing and threatens us to remain shattered.

As we grow in Christ, we begin to increasingly understand our individual stories. We see our crippled places and the ways that our wounds limit us. Much of the time, it is fear that the enemy uses to hand cuff us, blocking us from revealing our reflected glory to a world that needs to witness it so badly.

If we are wise, we know we need to live in a community of friends. But more often than not, our friendships stay at a surface level. And when they do go deep enough where we know each other’s stories and they know ours, they still usually only reach the level of genuine encouragement. When anger does surface in the relationship, it because someone’s feelings were hurt or their needs weren't met.

But what if our anger went to an even deeper level. What if you knew my story so well that you knew the ways that I lived in fear due to being crippled, and when you saw me live that way, you became so righteously angry that you told me. Could you get so angry at me for not offering something that God has marked me with? Would you have the courage to tell me?

If our friendships looked like that, I cannot imagine how it would advance the kingdom. Rather than living small lives, being held back in fear, we would likely fear more the anger of our good friends and live boldly, offering Jesus in us to a hurting and dying world. Upon hearing that you were freaking pissed at me, I would be called out in love.

A Quote for Action (not Thought)

2007-01-21T18:59:00.000-06:00

"The strength of masculine energy is its power to attack." -The Wild Man's Journey, Rohr and Martos

Scary Movie

2007-01-17T18:06:00.000-06:00

I hate scary movies. Never liked them. Never watched Nightmare on Elm Street or Jason. But, I saw a really scary homemade video this morning. It has the potential to keep me from sleeping at night. I know what you’re thinking…Blair Witch Project. Nope, worse.

This video was made by two guys, one with the camera and the other with a mic. They walk around a city street stopping pedestrians and bikers to ask them this question: “What does it mean to be a man, and how does a male become one?” They stopped all kinds of guys ranging from teenagers to senior citizens. One guy was walking with his significant other and refused to answer the question, hurrying past the camera. He wasn’t the only one. You could hear the quake of insecurity in their voice; you could see it in their demeanor.

Very few had answers. This absolutely baffles me. We males spend our entire lives seeking validation and entrance into manhood, even from the time we are 5. But who defines it and who tells us when we are there? Those who did risk answering mentioned things like responsibility and interacting with the community. One guy said masculinity meant “cruisin’ chicks.” Pretty deep stuff, I know. Another 60-something year old said he became a man when he turned 14 because he lost his virginity and worked his first job.

Tell me this nightmare is only a movie.

ADULT XXX

2007-01-15T13:59:00.000-06:00

What did you think when you read this title? What moved or happened in your heart? I wrote previously about a road trip Clint and I took. We kept passing these giant Adult billboards and interstate signs as we made our way through Arkansas. You know the ones, advertising a “gentlemen’s bar” and such. I felt something turn inside me when I saw the first sign from a quarter mile away. We sped on by at 70 miles an hour, but I got to thinking about the reaction in me. Upon first sight of the sign, a confidence arose in me. ADULT? That’s me. What happens inside that place is only for the mature, and so I’m mature. Because I am an ADULT. It felt powerful, like I was entitled to something that not everyone was.

I wrestled with my reaction, chastising myself for thinking about such places. Yet what happened in my heart was not necessarily bad; it just was. So I wanted to explore it a bit and get your thoughts. What occurred inside you when you read the blog’s title or when you pass such a billboard? If it is true that we are always in search of Life, in everything we do, what does your reaction say about your yearning for Life?

(I understand that if you are a woman, your reaction is probably different than a man’s, but I would still value your thoughts.)

24's Day 6 starts Today

2007-01-14T10:17:00.000-06:00

In honor of tonight being day 6 of season 6, I give you some Jack Bauer thoughts found at various searches on Google and the internet:

In high school Jack Bauer was voted "Most Likely to Kill the Foreign Kid"

The city of Los Angeles once named a street after Jack Bauer in gratitude for his saving the city several times. They had to rename it after people kept dying when they tried to cross the street. No one crosses Jack Bauer and lives.

If you’re holding a gun to Jack Bauer’s head, don’t count to three before you shoot. Count to 10. That way, you get to live 7 seconds longer.

Jack Bauer’s calendar goes from March 31st to April 2nd, no one fools Jack Bauer.

1.6 billion Chinese are angry with Jack Bauer. Sounds like a fair fight.

Jack Bauer once called the Vice President "Mr. President", but realized his mistake and shot the President. Jack Bauer is never wrong.

Superman wears Jack Bauer pajamas.

If you wake up in the morning, it's because Jack Bauer spared your life.

If it tastes like chicken, looks like chicken, and feels like chicken, but Jack Bauer says its beef. Then it's freakin' beef.

When someone asks him how his day is going, Jack replies, "Previously, on 24..."

When life gave Jack Bauer lemons, he used them to kill terrorists. Jack Bauer hates lemonade.

Jack Bauer is the leading cause of death in Middle Eastern men.

Superman's only weakness is Kryptonite. Jack Bauer laughs at Superman for having a weakness.

Killing Jack Bauer doesn't make him dead. It just makes him angry.

When the boogie man goes to sleep, he checks his closet for Jack Bauer.

Jack Bauer doesn't miss. If he didn't hit you it's because he was shooting at another terrorist twelve miles away.

If everyone on 24 followed Jack's instructions, it would be called 12.

Beep...Beep...Beep

Air Force's/ Playboy's Michelle Manhart

2007-01-13T10:30:00.000-06:00

Before I begin, you must know that I hesitate to reflect on this. I have the utmost respect for those in the military and often think myself unworthy to stand in their presence. This story caught my attention and caused me to ask some questions.

Air Force Sergeant Michelle Manhart recently posed nude for Playboy. The issue will be coming out this week and thus the Air Force’s disgust is making headlines. The whole deal strikes me as paradoxical.

She’s expected to prepare our military, developing physical and mental strength in trainees. When they graduate from her leadership, they should be tougher, more focused, and the archetype of strength. Yet, amidst this, she goes off, poses for Playboy, and thus offers her airmen a chance to throw themselves into weakness. The epitome of weakness for a man is to be captivated by a nude magazine, drawing from the beauty before him and the fantasy in his mind, all without having to offer any of his strength or sacrifice. It feels powerful, yet it saps his strength. It is false.

Aside from the irony in that, I listened to Sergeant Manhart, who I now want to call Michelle, on the news and sought to see her heart in all of this. It strikes me that she is living in an incredibly small story (as we all often do). She has a military job to do in effort to protect you and me. But she abdicates this role for a smaller one on a stage where she is at the spotlight centerfold of things, literally.

Where’s her heart in this and what is its pull? She says,

“This has been a lifelong dream of mine, being in modeling, getting into acting…Growing up and looking into the modeling career field, I thought Playboy is definitely the cream of the crop. Everything about Playboy is just beautiful...Not even for a second do I wish I hadn't done it. I am living out my dream.”

Her longing to be gorgeous is there. And it is valid. The core of her wants to be seen, noticed. Valued and appreciated. But my God, how far have we fallen? Playboy’s skewed version of beauty has become our society’s pinnacle. Indeed the extent of our distortion is revealed in Manhart’s statements. If we are ever going to be restored in our man-heart and woman-heart that God gave us, we will have to recover eyes for real beauty.

Teacher of the Year

2007-01-11T18:56:00.000-06:00

If you could be coached to do anything, what would it be? To take it a step further, imagine you could be coached by the greatest coach in the world at that particular skill. Would you choose leadership? Speaking? Managing a business? Acting?

Something drives all of us. We all strive to be something. Growing up, my dad took me to baseball coaches to instruct me in the art of hitting. Some of them helped more than others. I wonder how good I could have been if Tony Gwynn had been my coach. I went to basketball camps, trying to perfect my jump shot. There were lots of players there and individual attention was rare. I wonder how much I could have developed under one-on-one coaching from Duke’s Mike Krzyzewski.

Howard Hendricks got me thinking about this. He pointed out that the only thing the disciples ever asked Jesus to teach them was how to pray (Luke 11:1). Think about that for a moment. These knuckleheads are going to be left to spread the word about Jesus to the world. They will be faced with numerous challenges: teaching, starting and building churches, equipping others to disciple, writing letters, facing intellectual, spiritual, and physical opposition from Jews and Gentiles, Rome, each other, and oh yeah- Satan’s legions. And they have limited time with the greatest teacher to walk the Earth.

Yet, the only thing they want to be taught is how to pray. It is convicting to me. I strive to do and be. But I don’t always recognize what precedes anything I do or am. Connection with God is central. It’s where our identity lies. We will never outlive or outdo how we see ourselves. It seems like every time the disciples go looking for Jesus, they find him on his knees. Jesus really knew how dependent he was on connection with his Father. If I really saw that as crucial, then maybe I too would ask God to coach me in prayer.

7 days until 24!

2007-01-07T20:48:00.000-06:00

Tonight’s blog is a tribute to the countdown…(beep, beep, beep) 7 days until 24. Jack Bauer and the cast (well, some of them) are back. It’s that time of year again. You can smell it in the air. Suspense, adventure, explosions, and daring rescues. Adrenaline will be flowing. My wife will be shielding her eyes behind me for approximately 18 of the 24 hours. 7 days away.

One article I read stated that everyone on the show is expendable, except Jack of course. This is one reason the acting is so strong. Each actor and actress only knows the script for that one day, errr episode. Thus, they are challenged to perform their best in hopes that the writers will not tire of them and find some way to kill them off.

My friend Brandt and I were talking last season about how frequently someone extremely important to the storyline is killed. I think it was March then, so the spirit of NCAA basketball bracket pools was all around. You know, where everyone picks the teams they think have the best shot to make it to the Final Four. We thought: What if there was a 24 pool at the beginning of next season? Each player in the pool would pick the characters they thought would make it through the whole season, and the characters they thought would not.

So I want your thoughts. Kim Bauer, Chloe O’Brien, Curtis Manning, Audrey Raines, Martha Logan, Charles Logan, and Bill Buchanan. Who will make it and who will not? Leave your predictions by commenting below. And a bonus question...is Tony Almeida still alive? Be sure to tell why. Then we’ll watch the season together.

Beep…beep…beep

Stacey's Left Eye

2007-01-06T13:19:00.000-06:00

My friend got together with some people that he had not seen in a long time. Conversation around the corner table at Starbucks naturally turned into an update on each other’s lives. Mary was in the middle of a job change. Ted was still working in the corner office with the large window view. Mercy’s kids were doing great as ever, both excelling in the 3^rd and 6^th grade.

Then Stacey shared. At first, she was able to contain herself. Then her composure began to unravel, and with it, so did everyone else’s. Stacey had grown up with partial blindness in her right eye. As she journeyed into her early 20’s, surgeries on the eye took a turn for the worse, leaving her permanently blind in the right eye. Now years later, she is having trouble seeing out of her left eye. She went in for tests and the report confirmed her fear: she was progressing towards being permanently blind. She faces the same surgery that cost her the sight of her right eye fifteen years ago. Her days are now filled wondering how long she will be able to see the faces of her children.

When Stacey finished telling her story, the listeners, including my friend, sat stunned. Breaking the silence, Ted asked what kind of doctor she was going to see. Mary asked where the surgery would take place. Mercy wanted to know what hospital her first surgeries took place in. Stacey calmly answered, the flow of her tears ceasing more and more with each question.

As my friend related the story to me, I sat amazed. I, too, was taken into Stacey’s story. What also amazes me is that we (human beings) struggle so deeply with our inability to control life. We hate mystery and the unknown. When it comes to life and death and things that matter, we want control. In response to Stacey’s story, her friends responded with concrete questions that had sure answers. A reach to maintain some sort of control. Stacey may never know what her son’s face will look like when he say’s “I do” and kisses his bride. And our instincts are to ask about the names of doctors.

I wish we could just sit in silence and cry. Instead, like Adam and Eve’s arms, we greedily reach for control. God is a mystery. And thus, life is too. How refreshing it might be to enter into the pain of living outside Eden and accept that. Maybe then we would echo in unison Revelation 20:1, “..Come, Lord Jesus!”

The Dull Moments

2007-01-04T20:00:00.000-06:00

My blog description above mentions the dull moments of life being a topic. I realize I haven’t done a great job of including those. So here we go.

The weather outside decided to finally turn cold for winter, making it harder to get out of bed each morning. When I finally did today, 40 minutes after my first alarm, I was cold. Because my Nick Saban-like NFL salary of $4.5 million dollars hasn’t come in the mail yet, I do not have one of those showers that sprays you from 6 different angles, assuring that every inch of the body is kept warm for every second of the shower. So, probably like you, I am forced to move around in effort to stay warm. I discovered that keeping my head under the hot water is strategically the best way to stay warm.

Once dressed for work, I ate cereal. The generic brand. It was $0.75 cheaper that the name brand. The milk is halfway gone, if you were wondering. Oh wait, that sounded negative. The milk jug is half-full. It’s also the generic brand.

The drive to work was all about sports talk. Nick Saban again. What an example of integrity for the players he will coach. Huh.

I talked so much at work that my throat hurt. I like talking to you now because you don’t require my voice. It is resting.

Once home, I sat on the couch. Tired and bored. Then I realized it’s Thursday. Do you know what that means!!!???? The Office is on tonight. I love The Office. Brilliant. I haven’t laughed so hard since Dumb and Dumber. I checked nbc.com and found that Dwight K. Schrute has a blog. Crap. Because I am tiring my fingers with you, I missed the first 5 minutes of the show. Here’s Dwight’s blog. Gotta go.

http://blog.nbc.com/DwightsBlog/

Storm Door

2007-01-03T18:01:00.000-06:00

I had the honor of posing to help to fix a storm door with my grandfather today. He is a master. I am, well, not even a novice. He has fixed and repaired things all his life. It was a privilege to watch someone as talented as him work.

Before we decided the door needed to be replaced, he gave it the look over and told me there was a chance he could fix it. It was up to me to choose whether I wanted to keep the old door and have it “sort of fixed”- which would inevitably mean having to fix it two years from now- or to go spend $200 on a brand new, shiny door. I was paying close attention to what was going on in my mind, trying to determine the practical decision. Yet, I was also closely following the story that was happening in my heart.

My heart began to envision a nice, brand new door on the front of the house, one like our neighbors. I wanted that. You see, for the last couple months, due to my passivity in some regards, the storm door of our home has been flying open whenever the wind blew, barley held on by the bottom hinges. It has been a pain. And it’s looked terrible. So naturally, I really got excited about a nice looking door. This could be accomplished by fixing the old one or buying a new one. But there was something more than that. I yearned for the new one, and it felt spiritual.

The whole conversation going on in my heart was a great reminder: My soul longs for restoration of all that is broken. I realized what I was feeling was much deeper than what storm door to put on my house. It had to do with heaven. So often, as I get lost in the matrix of life, I become accustomed to things breaking down. Something terrible happens: I get used to it. Do you? Think about it. How many times during the day does something break or fall apart? The car? The toaster? The microwave? The iPod? And when something breaks, aside from the frustration you feel, don’t you pass it off as something that is “just part of life”? I wonder sometimes how much business a Home Depot or Wal-Mart will do in heaven, where nothing will need fixing.

I am tired of it. My ache to have a brand new storm door revealed that yearning for a world I was made to live in, where nothing is broken. The Bible says in Revelation 21, “Behold, I am making all things new.” That’s it. That’s what this afternoon was about. For now, in this lifetime, I have to put up with fixing things. But it will not last forever. There will be a moment when Aslan goes on the move again, winter will melt away, and things will be restored as they are groaning to be (Romans 8:18-22).

But, if I have to put up with fixing things for now, it’s a blessing to do it alongside my grandpa.

Goodbye to Saddam Hussein

2006-12-31T13:53:00.000-06:00

Saddam is gone. Amidst all the news coverage, I could not help but be pulled into the whole thing. Every major news paper and website was plastered with pictures of Saddam, a noose, men in black hoods, and cheering mobs. Two images struck me.

Reports say that after an initial struggle, Saddam went calmly to his death. He clutched the Koran as the noose was fitted and he prepared his own heart. I found myself wondering how one could approach such a situation with tranquility. “We are ruled by what we believe, whether it’s true or not,” someone once wrote.

Along with images of Saddam’s death, there were also pictures of applauding and parading people, celebrating the death of a dictator. Who knows how long these parties lasted into the night and weekend. As I imagined it all, I found myself wondering how many people prayed for Saddam’s heart as the rope was being tied.

Now, I don’t claim to know what it was like living under such a tyrant. None of my family members were murdered or tortured at his command. In those last moments though, amidst cheering crowds across the world, a sinful man was about to enter the rest of eternity. However much Saddam deserves his punishment, people must weigh the joys of justice with the somberness of a soul meeting God.

In a world striving for progress, a generation of Christians struggle to live with an eternal perspective. “We are ruled by what we believe, whether it is true or not.” I pray in those last moments that Saddam believed what is true.

(Picture taken from Foxnews.com)

A Whisper through a Song

2006-12-29T10:31:00.000-06:00

It seems I am daily trying to make sense of life. I know what I believe, but the significance of what I believe and the actual and normal events of the day don't always seem to correlate. Seeing God clearly can seem like a rarity, along with seeing who I am, and how the whole puzzle fits together. There were times long ago, when I was little, when the occurrences of life seemed to fit together in a way that offered more excitement. I would hear the whisper of life's deep meaning. Maybe through a song. Maybe through a friend. Maybe through a day at Disney World.

Every now and then in adulthood, the whisper comes back. It did this Christmas Eve, through a song and a dancer and a stage. It spoke of a world of meaning and romance, where God is loving and near. I want to pass the song along to you. Open up iTunes or Napster and download it. It is well-worth your $o.99.

Joy Williams - Here With Us

The Father's Heart

2006-12-27T09:47:00.000-06:00

Hello. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. Ours was full of family, laughter, and many thoughtful gifts. One of mine was this Palm Treo phone. I don’t need it, but I love it. My dad gave it to me. But to tell you that does not do the story justice. You see, a number of Christmases back my father bought me a cheap little black-and-white Palm pilot. I played with it all morning long. The next year he brought me shopping to pick out a top-of-the-line Pocket PC. Though I knew what I was getting, he would not let me touch it until Christmas. He absolutely delighted to watch me play with it while everyone else opened presents. That Pocket PC lasted me three or fours years. Each year though, he asks if there is anything electronic he can buy for me. This year I let him. Because my dad is overjoyed to see me happy.

Last blog I suggested that dealing with the circumstances of life has everything to do with our interpretation. Along my journey, many people have contributed to my perspective. These interpreters have helped shape the conclusions I make about life. In any given person’s life, I don’t believe anyone has more influence than the father.

The Bible describes God as Father. I have an intuit sense of this thanks to experiences like this Christmas. I know what it means not only to have a father delight in me, but one overjoyed to bless me. Luke 12:32 gives a glimpse into the Father’s heart. Jesus says, “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

Jesus knew His Father. He knew it was essential to hear the Father’s delight in Him (see Luke 3:21-22). Now it makes sense to me why he would want to pass it along to us. Something so wonderful as a father’s delight moves us to desire to pass it along to others. But before we pass it on, just like Jesus, we must enter in and know the Father’s heart for us.

World Trade Center

2006-12-22T18:09:00.000-06:00

My wife sent me movie searching yesterday, trying to get me out of the house so she could wrap my Christmas present. So, I headed to Blockbuster. As I walked through the continual shelves of stories, I kept hearing the same repeating music over and over. It was the menu screen from the DVD playing on the store’s TVs. The movie was World Trade Center, a recounting of September 11th. As I checked my movies out and headed for the exit, I could not help but overhear the Blockbuster woman behind the counter, finally realizing that the movie’s menu was on repeat.

“Oh I can’t take this right now.”

As she turned the DVD off, it was not a voice of frustration I heard, but one reflecting the heaviness of life. It was the voice of her heart. I did more than hear it; I felt it. Part of me wanted to scold her for not accepting reality. Another part of me empathized with her. The weight of her heart begged me to ask some questions as I departed: What are we to do with the tragedies that happen in life? How are we to interpret them? In a store such as Blockbuster, filled with happily ever after fairy tales, what are we to conclude about the real disappointments in life?

And yet, calling anything a disappointment implies that there were expectations and hopes for something better. I was reading about a guy named Simon Weil who said there are two things that pierce the heart: beauty and affliction. Clearly my Blockbuster friend was experiencing the latter. At the same time, there are genuine times of realizing beauty. It is strange that we are expected to deal with both of these, sometimes within the same hour. Thinking and reading Curtis and Eldredge brought me to a final conclusion. Dealing with beauty and affliction has everything to do with how you interpret it.

(Ponderings To Be Continued…)

The Power of Story

2006-12-20T11:38:00.000-06:00

Schools are letting out all over for Christmas break (am I allowed to say “Christmas” break?). There were two more days of school left after I had given my last exam. I, like other teachers, was faced with the challenge of controlling a classroom of students for a significant amount of time. Instinctively, the teachers I work with decided to show movies for the last 5 hours of school. As I sat in the back of the dark room, movie rolling, students quiet and enchanted, I asked myself, “What is so attention grabbing about a story that it would be an obvious choice used by all teachers?”

Staying with that question, let me present another quick story (ha). I attend a Bible church, mainly expository teaching. However, last Sunday was not much Bible teaching, but rather story-telling. A pastor, having just returned from a trip to Sudan, shared about four people: a witch doctor, a moped-riding evangelist, and two teenage boys who jump up and down over receiving a Bible as a gift, not a PS3 or Xbox360. I don’t expect that summary to make an impact on you, but the actual accounts made me tearful. I was recounting the service with my sister, asking her what she thought and she replied something like this, “Oh my gosh I loved it. It was the power of story. Regular teaching is great on most days, but there is just something about the power of story.”

I think she is on to something. Often you will hear a movie described as powerful. It’s other people’s stories that bring tears to our eyes and help us get to know them better. I attended a movie last night. In the midst of the story that it invited me into, I forgot about much of reality outside the theater. There was transcendence to the experience that spoke to me, whispering that there was more meaning to life than I often see.

What do you think? Is there such thing as “the power of story?” Maybe this is why Jesus used parables so much of the time. How does your heart respond to stories? How does story interact with you throughout your day?

The Dangers in Blogging

2006-12-19T10:45:00.000-06:00

As I have begun blogging, I realize there can be many dangerous aspects to it. Most of the dangers that you might find on a google search have to do with physical things. You know, like people putting too much information on the web, people jeopardizing other people's privacy, or sharing incidents or problems from work that should not be shared.

But what about the internal world inside us? Could there be dangers lurking there when it comes to blogging? As with anything we do, our motives can often fall into one of two categories: selfless or selfish. So many times we want to be selfless, but end up being selfish. Unfortunately, blogging is no different. These two blogs really challenged me to question why I blog. Though it is convicting to read them, I believe it also is sharpening. Take a look.

This one is entitled "Blog Sabbatical" : http://heartsoulandmight.com/

Check out "Selfish Thoughts" : http://xanhood.typepad.com/my_weblog/2006/07/index.html

I would be eager to hear your thoughts. Leave a comment if you want.

www.trainingground.com

2006-12-18T14:34:00.000-06:00

In his book Healing the Masculine Soul, Gordon Dalbey states,

What does my own culture offer as a validation of manhood? The driver's license at sixteen; freedom at eighteen to join the army, attend pornographic movies, and to buy cigarettes and beer. The message is clear: Becoming a man means operating a powerful machine, killing other men, masturbating, destroying your lungs, and getting drunk.

We're all lost males, all of us, cast adrift from a community of men, cut off from our masculine heritage- abandoned to machines, organizations, fantasies, drugs.

Where does a young man go to find different answers to what Dalbey describes? Can he find it in the church? Can he find it at school or on an athletic team? Maybe within a fraternity once he gets to college? Does it have anything to do with God?

I think it has everything to do with God. I've met someone who deeply desires to see young men become authentic by bringing them into community, into mentoring relationships, and into life. To find their stories, their hearts, and their God. He sent me his new website and I am glad to pass it on: www.trainingground.com

Entering In (Part 2)

2006-12-17T11:26:00.000-06:00

A week ago my wife and I attended a concert by a guy named Andrew Peterson. Andrew’s first song begins at the beginning of the Story, then traces God’s pursuit of humanity down through the kings and prophets and then to Jesus. In essence, the music tells the Larger Story, the drama of God’s workings since time started. But I missed it. I didn’t enter in. I listened and I analyzed. I tried to intellectually grasp the narrative and fit it into a box that could fully be understood.

It makes sense to me now why Paul says what he does in Colossians 2:1-2, “For I want you to know how great a struggle I have for you…to reach…the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ.” It’s ironic to me that he uses the word “knowledge.” I don’t think he means that in a heady sense. To me, knowledge here means entering into an experience, like a relationship.

Try it today. Watch a movie, read a book, read the Bible, talk to a friend. Don’t analyze or think too much. Enter in. Ask God to show you His heart and invite you into the experience of it all.

Entering In (Part 1)

2006-12-16T11:21:00.000-06:00

I just watched The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe for the second time. Wow. It moved me to tears multiple times. There is Peter, the boy whose real identity is High King, a warrior; though, it takes him awhile to step into his calling. He doesn’t fully come to believe who he is until he looks into the eyes of Aslan, who believes in Peter more than he believes in himself. I saw myself in Edmond, the boy whose betrayal requires a sacrifice of proportions he could not have fathomed. Then there is Lucy, the small girl who possesses a heart for Aslan that is so sensitive to the lion’s presence, touch, and words.

My desires and longings played out in different scenes. The children enter Aslan’s camp, surely feeling the anticipation of meeting the king. Pater walks with Aslan to the top of a cliff, sword in hand, and hears him speak words of identity. My soul was shaken when the battle lines formed and the screaming eagle/lions led the attack. Each scene spoke of transcendent meaning - that there is more going on than can be seen.

The main thing that struck me was that this Larger Story or Meta-narrative is meant to be experienced. You may have felt like you knew what I was talking about when you read the previous paragraphs. But if so, the thought probably came from your mind, not your heart. All of which to say that you were most likely not experiencing, but rather comprehending in the cerebral sense. Even as I write this blog, I have shifted into the mind rather than the heart. Something as mythic as entering into a deeply true Story cannot be written down without losing its power.

That is often how I live out the gospel. I read the Bible, enjoy friendships, read many books, and listen to teachings. I think and study hard in hopes of grasping the gospel. It is hard work, mostly because the mystery of Christ is just that. A mystery. My efforts are mainly the result of foolishness; something in me hopes I can fit the Larger Story into a box that can be fully explained and seen at all times.

(This is part 1 of two-part post. Part 2 will be posted tomorrow)

i know a man...

2006-12-11T22:49:00.000-06:00

I know a man who, to me, is a normal man. He possesses an incredible heart and I would love to one day acquire his passion for life. He is human to me. I have stayed at his house and eaten at his table. His wife cooked for and served me. I met his kids and spent time laughing with them as a family. We watched Jack Bauer save the world together on Fox’s 24. I am proud to call this man my friend.

I just discovered tonight that my friend is a marked man in some countries throughout the world. Certain groups of people would gladly kill him because of the threat he poses. He is not in the military, nor is he a spy. He preaches the name of Jesus; he trains and equips other pastors to do so. To those who want to exterminate him, he is dangerous. I think it is awesome. Not only because he offers Jesus to others and risks his life constantly for a kingdom to come, but because he calls me his brother and invites me into his house to serve me. I also think it is awesome that you don’t know his name, probably never will, and that he doesn’t care if you do or don’t; he lives to see another name glorified above his.

When I watch 24, I want to be Jack Bauer. But, in reality, I have eaten at the same table with the spiritual equivalent, and that is way better.

Taco Bell

2006-12-10T17:27:00.001-06:00

Road trips…I miss them. I didn’t take enough of them in college and now that I’m out, I realize there will be fewer and fewer of them as I get older. My friend Clint and I took off for Fayetteville, Arkansas, hoping to find tickets to the Tennessee Volunteer-Arkansas Razorback football game. I love the Vols, but they weren’t the reason I went. I went in search of connection with another heart I respect.

As we traveled, we naturally began to get hungry, and seeing as this was a guy’s trip and our wives were not with us, we figured this was a rare chance to enjoy the cuisine of Taco Bell. As we waited for our food, three middle aged Hispanic women came in. As I often do, they stopped a couple steps before the ordering spot and began mulling over the menu options…conversing in Spanish.

How interesting. Here Clint and I were, in the middle of a Spanish community, with a booming Mexican population, where there is no shortage of authentic Mexican restaurants. I live in Nashville and there are at least 20 of them in every 10 square mile radius. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but all these authentic Mexican restaurants are operated by native Hispanics who make some great food. It struck me as incredibly odd and confusing that these three woman were choosing to eat at Taco Bell, a totally Americanized imitation of Mexican food, when they could be eating somewhere authentic. I mean, they could probably throw something together in their kitchen at home that would be more genuinely Mexican than Taco Bell.

And yet, there they were. Trying to figure out whether to order the $1.39 Gordita or the Double Decker. I wonder if it even occurred to them that they could travel a little further down the road to sit down to a plate of rice, beans, and two enchiladas cooked by someone whose parents were born in Mexico City.

And then it hit me…I am them.

I love the scene in Braveheart when William Wallace chastises some of his fellow Scottish leaders for wanting too little. Schotland’s leaders are content to be paid well by the English king rather than fighting for a country of their own. He screams, “Your so concerned with squabbling for the scraps from Longshanks’ table that you've missed your God given right to something more!”

That’s it. That’s me. I am the same as the women at Taco Bell. God offers me a better quality of life than I can imagine, and yet I go on living life with my head down, digging my own wells where I can sit and enjoy a moment of ache-free living. I can do this with my wife, my friends, my job, fantasy sports, and Tennessee football.

One of my favorite authors, a guy named Larry Crabb, is beginning to convince me that I was made for no greater purpose than entering into a joyous relationship with the Father, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. He describes the Trinity as being a party that we are invited to join. Yet, so often I find myself reading the Scriptures, reading other spiritual books, and praying, not with connection with God in mind, but instead, my own growth as a Christian and any ministry God might be privileged to include me in. I settle for less than God offers. I am a Mexican standing in line at Taco Bell.

Yet, I am convicted. Thankfully Jesus has given me a taste for something more authentic than the small stories I create. The taste is none other than God. David once said in Psalm 34:8, “Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!” I want that. There are times, every now and then, when I do taste Him. And oh is it worth it. Other times, I wander and journey, struggling to stay away from the fast food imitations. I often fail. Yet, I travel, because I know that those times of tasting the Bread of Life are worth the road trip.

The Most Ironic Christmas Gift of the Year

2006-12-09T22:48:00.000-06:00

I was running through Wal-Mart this week, searching for a tree stand when BOOM...right there in the middle of all the Christmas spirit stood the most ironic gift idea of the year: The DaVinci Code on DVD. How about celebrating the birth of Christ with a story set out the disprove that the Christ is even worth celebrating.

Just a thought...

Desiring Life

2006-12-06T17:37:00.000-06:00

It’s been a hard week. Work has been busy and nights have been fully scheduled. Time to reflect, read, and pray have been scarce. Just this afternoon, I returned home, read for thirty minutes, then realized I had a half hour until it would be time to go...again. I felt rushed, pressed, and stressed. I was not going to be able to do everything that needed to be done to satisfy my heart’s demands. I felt the urge to go pray. Thankfully, I followed it.

Something in me encouraged my heart to pray quickly: I still had to publish a blog. I couldn’t believe the conniving of my heart. I so often view satisfying Life as getting everything done that I schedule for the day. Writing a blog fit into today’s plans. Completing that would be a step towards fulfilled aspiration. Then I pictured the blog’s title, Desiring Life. Fortunately, I was reminded. I am after real Life, not the life that I arrange for myself.

Jesus talked about real Life being the experience of knowing the Father and Him. He prays about it in John 17:3. Real life is not reading the quota of Scripture that I set for myself each morning; it’s not praying for a certain number of times each day. It’s not writing a deeply spiritual book. Although all these things can be good, when they become the point, bad things happen.

I feel rescued. My focus tonight has shifted. I was reminded of Jesus and a discussion with some Pharisees in John 5:39-40. I am often a Pharisee. I study and memorize Scripture as if it is the point. Jesus rebukes them, and me. “You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life.”

Tonight, I want Life. Not my version, but the Real kind. I asked God to walk with me and show me that the experience of relating well with them really is the point.

15. D is NOT the Answer

2006-12-04T17:56:00.000-06:00

"Sir, are you trying to trick us?”

“That means we should put D because he probably trying to confuse us.”

“I’m putting D! That means to put D!”

In three of my five classes today, I had students respond in this way upon seeing my board. There was a test today. It never fails that I have a student in first period visit my desk halfway through the test after discovering an error. Why can’t I ever create a test without errors? Nevertheless, it happened again this morning. One of the errors was on #15, and so to help the students, I wrote on the board: D is not the answer.

Students suspected a conspiracy. I was baffled. Would the teacher really scheme against them in hopes of fooling them into a poorer grade? Don’t they know I deeply want them to succeed? Even after I tried to assure them D was not the answer, one or two still publicly questioned it. Don’t they trust my heart towards them?

Then it hit me: I wonder if a similar scenario occurred in the garden. God has just created everything to perfection. Everything was good; He said so. Adam and Eve had a whole world to discover and explore. We don’t know how much time existed between God resting and the Fall, but I’m assuming it was long enough for the newly weds to take some walks in the garden with God. He was there, present and accounted for. No absentees on record. They had the chance to know him, to ask questions, to get to know his heart for them.

In the midst of this time, he wrote on the dry-erase board: Do not eat from that tree. I can hear Adam and Eve giving familiar responses: “Sir, are you trying to trick us? That means we should eat from the tree, right? God is probably holding something good from us.”

I can’t believe it; those two had the chance to literally walk with God in the garden, engage his heart, and yet, they distrusted it. Adam and Eve doubt God’s intentions. That’s no different than my students. No different than me when things don’t go the way I want them to. I have trouble believing God’s intentions towards me are good. Especially during hard circumstances or when I read His commands, yet want to disobey them. And yet, plainly the life of Jesus proves the intent of His heart.

Starbuck's

2006-11-29T21:11:00.000-06:00

Why am I here?

I am not talking about Earth or existence. I am talking about a similar place… Starbuck’s. I was driving home from work when I received a message from my wife. She had a friend who was dropping by to talk. All of which meant that I had suddenly had an hour and a half to play. What to do? Starbuck’s. Why? I don’t know. Because that’s where writers are supposed to go.

I go home first to change out of my work clothes. What should I wear…decisions, decisions. Not a tie, easy decision. Jeans or Adidas pants? Jeans, ‘cause they would fit in more. What? Fit in more? Did that thought really just pass through my mind? Now I’m embarrassed.

I was joking with a friend the other day about meeting him at Starbuck’s, except, one without the Star. That would make it…Buck’s. I picture the whole coffee shop image vanishing and an older cowboy in a button down flannel shirt (chest hair showing) and jeans on, sipping on some specialty drink made of hot chocolate and Jack Daniels. His pop-belly is more than noticeable and he serves breakfast all day. Buck’s.

Sitting at Starbuck’s, I wonder whether I would have wanted to type here if it was Buck’s. Hmm..nope. Ouch. That’s convicting. I am here because of an image. I paid 4 bucks for a coffee to sit and make myself feel like a deep thinker who has a lot to say to the world through my erudite, intellectual, and cultured words. Maybe I would be better off with Buck, sitting at his table, actually being myself, and eating his grits and bacon…especially if he’s a good editor.