pullman progress.

thankful.

2009-11-26T08:56:00.012-08:00

i don't do thankfulness well if you want to know the truth of it. i forget often, feel threatened often, and have a hard time often remembering to remember:

thankfulness should be a state of mind, a state of heart, a state of being.

it should be.

a part of the foundation in which we build our house.

it should be.

the air we breathe, the food we eat, the garment we wear.

it should be.

thankfulness is understanding we are not getting what we deserve, we are getting what jesus deserved.

thankfulness is praying "Lord continue to be unfair to me".

thankfulness is pursuing the understanding that what we have is because of what He accomplished.

thankfulness is looking around and seeing everything entrusted us and closing our eyes, exhaling, and whispering surely He is the giver of all good things.

thankfulness is the capacity to inventory all we possess, tangible and intangible, and have our souls delight in grace not entitlement.

thankfulness is stewarding well, serving well, blessing well.

thankfulness is resting well, responding well, standing in awe well, trusting well.

may we above all else be thankful for this: the light of the gospel has been shown to our heart.

short story:

2009-11-23T17:33:00.001-08:00

In college, I attended a church where half of the congregation was under 25 and the other half of the congregation was over 60. This is not an overstatement, or for the sake of analogy, this was the truth of our gathering. One Sunday, our pastor stood up and spoke candidly to both sects of our church. He was a well spoken man who had spent many years on the mission field and had a way of telling you terribly hurtful things that somehow landed in your heart as encouraging.

He began by asking the college aged people in the room to try and take a look at life through a different lens. He told us that he was proud of our passion, our activism, and our appeal to many outside the church. Then he walked to the edge of the stage and said, but be careful not to become what you have grown to hate. He said that you may not even realize this now, but you can become suffocated in tradition even at a young age. He said be careful not to become crusaders on dressing a certain way to church, on singing certain songs a certain way in church, and not to become married to a way of doing church and forsake the beauty of the history that has pointed you to the one who is the way. He said when you think that your method is the only method, and you sell yourselves to doing something exclusively this way or that, then you have become just like previous generations and exactly what you hate.

Then he said be careful that your traditions are not what your energy is spent on preserving. Preserve the truth of gospel he said. Fight for the gospel, not for songs or for dress. He then changed his cadence, and in a more emotional tone he said, be careful, be careful, do not become like my generation. My generation fell into the same trap. We fought for the wrong things, and preserved too heavily a method rather than a message. At this point he began to cry and to clap, but the clapping was in a tired and very sarcastic sort of way. And he said these words through tears, words that I will not soon forget, “I would like to extend a congratulations to my generation, congratulations friends, we kept our traditions, but we lost our children.”

27 amy.

2009-10-01T10:50:00.000-07:00

So, Josh is turning 27 today and as many of you know he has been counting down with his top 27’s. So I wanted to put in my top 27. So here are the top 27 reasons of why I am glad that he was born and why I love him so much (in no particular order…)

I LOVE JOSH because…

1. he likes to read. he is very smart.
2. he is willing to eat sweets with me.
3. he is a follower of Christ, is passionate about Jesus, and is real in his struggles.
4. he is pretty funny (but not more than me).
5. he has a deep appreciation for coffee, conversations, and the church.
6. he watches project runway and what not to wear with me.
7. my hand fits perfectly in his.
8. I do not ever doubt his love.
9. the way he laughs, especially when he thinks something is really funny. it is the best laugh in the world.
10. his ability to remember quotes. it’s ridiculous.
11. his love of words, his ability to articulate so well with words, to write so well with words.
12. he plans great surprises.
13. he believes in me.
14. people look up to him. when I first moved to Pullman I learned so much about josh by seeing how others interacted with him, and by what other people thought of him.
15. he asked me to marry him..
16. he challenges me to be better, to not be satisfied with the status quo, and to pursue holiness.
17. he cooks a mean bowl of top ramen.
18. he always smells good.
19. his family.
20. he has very nice and consistent handwriting.
21. my family loves him.
22. he makes me feel special and loved and lovely.
23. he is hot.
24. he is my favorite.
25. he is m best friend and he is a good friend to others.
26. his style has improved with age, it is simple, classic, and fits his personality.
27. he is a gift. and he is the love of my life.

farewell 26

2009-10-01T00:23:00.007-07:00

when you get to be my age you realize how young we really are.

when you see the world my way you begin to appreciate depth and beauty and one on ones more than fanfare and highlights and crowds. at my age you begin to appreciate, respect, and long for time.

for time is of the essence. and i would rather master time than master space.

and the truth and essence of time is something very deep and spiritual.

it was as if on the seventh day God created time. or at least the ability and necessity to appreciate time, to rest in time, and pray in accordance with his time, and in all ways the capacity to own time, not have time own us.

for years time has owned me. i've thought with an anxious heart that my life was flashing before my eyes and that i wasn't doing anything of value with it.

then i redefined value and re-approached time.

i know a guy who never had more than 40 people at a time in his ministry. his largest group gathering was at his retirement banquet where 700 people came to celebrate who he was and what he had accomplished. and everyone stayed after to eat cake and share stories. because this is one of those guys that had an impact in their life. because this guy was faithful. for the long haul. he had a bank account full of time, and was willing to spend it sitting across the table from hundreds of people throughout 40 years. his life is a tree that has roots running deeper than any of us could imagine.

then i began to wonder who i wanted to be. a guy who was able to draw a crowd but not able to sit one on one and give my life away. i didn't want to be that.

i don't want to become what i hate. and i don't want to have an empty room and an uneaten cake at my retirement. i want to look tired that day. like people had worn out my smile, and my shirt, and i want to have coffee stains on my bible.

so i'm learning that 27 is the new 50. and that no one is waiting on me to get older before i can influence. i'm learning that time is on my side, not working against me. i'm learning that God has given us rest to reassure us that when we rest the world still happens.

i'm learning that nothing ultimately depends on me.

and i'm learning that the only place in my life that i can not be replaced is not in the church, or in any other tasks i do, but it is in my home, in my marriage, as a husband, with amy.

God help me steward time well. help me not become lazy in the great work of your great kingdom, that is both here now and so surely on its way. allow me the the grace to live a life that is full in your understanding of full. in your understanding of happiness. not in mine.

may i next year be further and further away from the man i use to be. for the man i use to be is not near enough in your image. force me into that image, into that garment, the one that goes by a name, not by an amount of wordily possessions.

lord let my life count for something. let my next 27 years be littered with stories of your glory, with stories of church plants, with stories of reconciliation, stories of books being written, marathons being ran, and stories of hope.

give me wisdom. grant me humility. gift me according to your will. refine me and mold me into something of use, of ultimate use, not a use of lame personal gain.

lord let me life tell a better story.

27 life:

2009-09-29T13:44:00.002-07:00

If there is one thing that you can not choose in your life, it is your family. Where you are born and what you are born into is something completely out of your hands. It is one of the few things in life that you can take no credit for. On the first day of October in 1982 I was born in Galveston Texas to a loving Hispanic woman in her early twenties. Her name is Becky, she is my mother, and she had me out of wedlock. My birth certificate has an empty spot where a Father’s name would typically go.

When I was a year old my mom married a guy named Kenny. They were together about eleven months before they parted ways in the form of divorce. Later she told me that she only married him to get out of her parents house. All I got out of the deal was a stuffed animal named Floppy. I think I still have it somewhere. A couple years later, when I was not yet four, my mom married a man named Kyle. He is the man I call dad still to this day, a man who well deserves the title of Father. If I could I’d go back to my birth certificate and handwrite his name in that blank area. He’d probably appreciate that.

Describing the condition of my home growing up is actually an interesting concept. I say that because I really enjoyed the life I was brought up in, I really enjoy the parents I was given, I really appreciate all the things we did not have, really thought it was normal. It is almost as if I did not know how other families function now, I would never consider my family dysfunctional. For instance, I can probably count on one hand the amount of times we actually sat down and had dinner together as a family. The idea is great, and it’s one of my favorite pastimes now as an adult, but it was a non-existing thing in childhood. Our supper was served on paper plates and eaten while sitting on the living room floor. Food never tasted so good. It’s not that we didn’t have a kitchen table, we did, but it was reserved for playing dominos and poker.

If my dad instilled one thing in me growing up that will probably never go away, it would be the importance of a good work ethic. He always said if a man does not do everything in his power to provide for his family then he is not a man. My dad worked in the oil field for as long as I can remember. Due to that, we moved around a lot during my elementary schooling; four schools in four years. When you work in the oil field, you work long hours in the heat, always have a sun burn and dirty fingernails, and you can not wash your work clothes with anyone else’s clothes. The oilfield promotes a certain way of life the transitions into the way things are in the family. You work hard, you play hard. Once you put in the hours on the clock, you have earned the right to be completely off the clock, sometimes too completely.

My dad is one of the easiest going guys in the world. He is stubborn and relentless in certain areas of thought, but he has a great sense of humor and really good friends, friends that have lasted a really long time, friends that would do anything for me, and that says a lot about him. I am not sure if my dad loves Jesus. I am not sure if he understands that salvation is not based on a “how good of a guy you are” basis. I am not sure he is willing to surrender, completely. Some of this has to do with his childhood. The way he was raised has a lot to do with how he raised us; my brother, my sister, and I. My dad had a tough dad and some tough moments in childhood. He always felt like he could not win his fathers approval no matter what he did. He was forced to go to church, though his dad never did. He thought things were so hypocritical. They probably were.

Due to this, my dad has shown the utmost approval of me and my efforts. He has shown pride in me, for what I am and who I am. Even when it comes to spiritual things, he supports my walk with Christ, he supported me in all my mission trips and church camps as a teenager, I just am not sure he owns this same faith for himself. My dad was there for me in things by nature, but not really there for me in things by spirit. My dad was a strong leader who showed love the only way he knew how. I do not fault him for that, I do not find myself looking back and feeling neglected at all. His affection was shown through teaching me things; how to shoot a gun, a jump shot, how to fix a weed eater, and so on, but he never really showed me how to deal with internal issues, how to enjoy the beauty of life, how to process hurt, how to struggle and endure. Maybe it is because I never asked. Maybe it is because I didn’t need to. Maybe that is why God gave me a mother.

My mom is the most giving woman I know. She has always done everything in her power to provide all the things my siblings and I ever wanted. Throughout all the moving we did growing up my mom took on various jobs some of which included being a waitress and a secretary, but her jobs never took away from her time from us. The relationship I have with my mom is one of utmost openness and security. She has been my solace and my joy. No matter the circumstances of adolescence my mom has served as an open door for me, a pillar of support, and the one I could talk to about anything. She trusted me with responsibility at a young age and was always willing to give me opportunities to lead, to learn for myself, and to fail. She taught me to wash my own clothes, wash dishes, wash floors, wash everything. She taught me that life is about family, that hard work is more valuable then talent, that beauty is everywhere, that I can be anything I want to be, and that trials are a gift. My mom is my dear friend.

Two years ago my mom saw the bottom of what life can offer. She experienced loneliness and hurt of the deepest kind. She spent 43 days in jail on charge of substance abuse. Four years before this when I was a senior in high school my parents divorced after 15 years of marriage. Supposedly it had to do with lack of trust and with money, I do not really know. This process sent my mom into depression and she slowly became less and less active, less and less alive. It really bothers me to think about. Sometime during the separation my mom turned to drugs to make the pain go away. I do not know exactly when this happened and I have never asked.

What I do know is that these events happened twos year ago, and my mom is no longer the woman she was then. She told me that while she was in jail she had time to think, time to remember, and time to repent. She told me that in jail she did not find God, but rather was gently reminded that He is always there, always faithful, and that the Jesus she read about for so many years in scripture proved to be a guy who would comfort rather then judge even in the most embarrassing, frustrating, heartbreaking, and troubling moments of life. My mom has been clean for over two years now. She still keeps a daily count. She still remembers what that lifestyle brought about and how she never wants to be there again. She is a truly pressed but not crushed, persecuted not abandoned, struck down but not destroyed. Her and my dad got back together and last year bought a house an hour away from all their bad memories. They seem so much happier now, so much more in love. This story really is a testament of God’s unstoppable love, a reminder that His grace knows no limits, and that His arm is not too short to save, no matter who the person is, or where they are in life. I rejoice in that.

I have a brother and a sister. My brothers name is Jeffrey and at the moment he is 18 years old and about to move into his second year at East Texas Baptist University, my alma mater. Growing up my brother and I had our issues, a lot of which came because we had to share a bed room for many years. I being the oldest, and going through personal growth and needing space and puberty and such probably bled into my relationship with Jeff. I never neglected him in an abusive sense, but rather always pushed him to either leave me alone or play at the level of my friends, which was completely unfair considering our age difference. Looking back our relationship was good, he always looked up to me and I never really excluded him from day to day childhood activities. My parents were both real intentional about making sure I included and took care of my brother. The only weird thing between my brother and I was that we had different dads, and we both knew it by the time I was 14 and he was 9. My parents dropped that information on me a couple years before. It really was no big deal. That may seem strange to many, my nonchalant attitude about it all, but honestly at the time I did not care. I had a father, I had a family, and I had support and love and provision, so I really never felt emptiness in my heart regarding a biological father. The way I see it is that he missed out, not me.

My brother and I look nothing alike. He is 6’2, has blonde hair, and pale skin. I am the opposite. No one believes we are related, much less have the same mother. My brother is better then me in so many areas of life. He has excelled in places where I tend to fail. It began in his teenage years when he started coming to church with me each week and getting really involved in the youth group. Jeff threw himself into any activity he could and became an example of servanthood to everyone in the church. Even now my brother gives himself to projects and volunteers for anything that has to do with helping others. His love for Jesus has grown over time and has led him to Japan on short term missions, vacation Bible school as the recreation leader, and to ETBU following his calling into ministry. Jeff and I have a good relationship, we don’t talk near as much as we should, but as we grow older, we grow closer, and that is an enjoyable thing. To know my little brother loves Jesus is an enjoyable thing.

My sister at the moment is 20 years old and her name is Jennica. She has a quiet but not really personality. All through our childhood Jennica and I really had what I felt like was a typical brother sister relationship. She and I were interested in different things so that left us struggling to find commonality and having almost 5 years of age difference between us naturally made things a little distant. What I remember most about my little sister is how she laughed at most anything. She was also very ticklish and very beautiful. Jennica is very caring and remembers birthdays and anniversaries and many other adult like things far better then me. The attribute that stands out the most about my sister outside of her loyalty to friends, and strong convictions, is her honesty. Jennica did not find herself following me and my brother to FBC but rather decided to go to a smaller Central Baptist church in town because it was where she felt most welcomed. She is a silent leader, and I really respect that about her. The summer after I graduated high school I was an interim youth minister at a church in Texas and my sister attended our group and even went to camp with us that summer. She gave her life to Christ and was baptized later that year at Central. Things have changed a little since then and she has struggled in her walk with Christ in post high school graduation life, but just last month she told me she picked up the newspaper and was looking up potential churches to visit in the new town she lives in. It was encouraging to hear her say these words, because I have worried about her, prayed for her, and hoped that soon Jesus is would draw her home.

I think my sister is great and really want the best for her. She and I have a slightly weird relationship now because sometimes I feel like she thinks I am disappointed with who she is. I think she feels that if she is not some missionary living in some place doing some amazing thing, living some completely pure life then big brother is not satisfied. The trouble is that is so far from the truth. I love who she is, I support what she is doing, and I have done my best to communicate that to her over the last year. That is not just rhetoric, but really it is truth. I do not want my sister to think I do not value who God has made her to be. I do not want my sister to think that if her big brother who is in ministry is disappointed with her then that must mean God is disappointed with her as well. There is no good that would ever come from that type of relationship, no redemption in that form of love, so I do not want to be that. The last thing I want is for my little sister becoming reluctant to follow Jesus on account of any form of assumed judgment passed down from me. May that never be so.

Life lived in the context of this family has really been a blessing. I would not trade them for any other. I’m sure who they are has helped form who I am and for that I am grateful. The story of me in adolescent years can really be summed up in playing sports and trying to be cool. I enjoyed any sport involving a ball and had parents who were willing to coach my teams and drive me to out of town games so I played as much as a kid can play. Junior high was much of the same, sports, embarrassing clothes, and beginning to realize that girls are pretty. When my feet hit the halls of high school is when I began to understand in a real sense that God had a calling on my life, and that His calling was more then church attendance. It was just two years before that I had given my life to Christ and I was still functioning under the impression that I was in training rather then an actual player in God’s eternal purpose for the world. The summer between my 7^th and 8^th grade year I met a man named Norman. He drove the big gray church van. He invited me to Wednesday night services and told me if I came I’d get to hang out with kids my age, play basketball, get free nachos and snow cones, and hear about Jesus. He picked me up for church every week for an entire year. He had a beard and a big smile.

After the year of Wednesday night meetings Norman told me that he was taking some students up to a summer camp and that he had paid my way if I would like to go. This camp is where things began for me. This camp is where so much of me ended. During my elementary years and even right up to when this guy Norman started giving me rides, on occasion my mother and I would go to a Catholic church. In fifth grade I even started the confirmation process with the church and made it through the book work, the classes, my first communion, and confession. It only took three confessions before I realized I wanted out. Going into a room and telling a guy that I didn’t know, or could even see, that I had a fight with my brother, had a bad thought about a kid at school, and cheated on my third period spelling test felt really awkward, empty, and irrelevant. I said my prayers during those years, tried my best, but still never met Jesus. I never heard the message of salvation by grace alone through faith alone. I am glad I had a mom who listened to my complaints, even resonated with some of them, and did not force me to continue going through that process. Looking back I think the Catholic season had much more to do with my grandmother then my mother.

There are only a few relatives of mine who are devote Catholics, outside of those few; I have a non church going heritage. For me to be at this Baptist camp having a real experience with Jesus was not only life changing, but also a little tradition threatening. When I came home from that week and explained to my parents what happened, my explanation was met with a bit of mixed emotion. My parents were happy for me, they were glad I had a good time, they were glad I learned to shoot a 22 and became a licensed canoe driver and they were glad I had met Jesus. They were happy to see me happy. The slight tension came between my mom and grandmother when I began attending the Baptist church regularly. The argument did not last too long and no one was hurt, but it was hard for grandmother to accept her grandson leaving the Catholic Church. Even now when I am spending time with my grandmother things will come up and she is quick to ask me questions about what Baptist believe on this or that issue. She is the sweetest lady, and she has been my prayer warrior for years, so I love her questions, I love her interest, and I love the fact that she stills gives me communion books from her church.

When I say everything began and ended for me by accepting Christ, here is what I mean. For years I believed I needed to appease God through good deeds and repetitious prayers. I thought Jesus was a really nice guy who enjoyed playing with children and had a beard and a big smile. What I realized at camp was that Jesus was far more then I imagined. The counselor I talked to explained to me the beauty of Jesus’ life and the purpose of his death. He told me stories that made my heart come alive. After our conversation everything had to be different. My understanding of God, of communion, of confession, of existence, and of church was no longer the same. Things had to change. Everything began and everything ended.

I became active in our church from that point on. The youth minister’s son was one of my best friends so their family started coming by and picking me up on Sundays. I remember having such a pure love for Jesus during my high school years. I remember having a hunger for prayer and for the knowledge of God. Sometimes I wish I could go back to that; that first love stage. During this time of my life I had issues with my identity, with my attitude, with bad skin, and with the tension between being a church going good kid and being a good athlete. Typically, at least where I am from, these two don’t really co-exist. A person must be one or the other. Partying never really appealed to me though, but neither did being an uptight boring kid. The first couple years of high school were really good for me socially. From fourth grade through graduation I lived in the same town, and it was a small town, really small; 900 people. Life was about having the right friends and being good at something, something involving a field or court and a ball. This was the way things were, and I was okay with those things, because those things fit into who I was. The trouble came in fitting those things into my new life in Christ. The trouble came when I went to Africa between my sophomore and junior year.

This trip took place at the end of the summer and because of its length I was forced to miss the first two days of summer football practice. When I got back to school I was flooded with questions about my trip; why I went, who I talked to, what was their response, and so on. I had just spent three weeks sharing my faith with everyone I came in contact with and now I was with my teammates, back in Texas, back at school, back in routine, and I was sharing my faith. As strange as this may sound strange, sharing the story of Jesus at school was a revolutionary concept to me. This experience launched me into a new frame of mind, a new frame of confidence. Living out my faith in a holistic sense came to be truth my junior year of high school. My identity transitioned from being all about sports and approval of peers to trying to be an influence on those who didn’t know Christ. During that year a couple of friends and I started a weekly prayer meeting that met before school. The meeting had its ups and downs throughout the next two years but we were not really concerned about the number of people attending as much as we were concerned with the number of our lost friends who were not attending. We felt like prayer was important, that fellowship of believers in school was important. So we met. We would have donuts and orange juice and invite a different adult to share each week. Many teachers and administrators got involved. This ministry still goes on today at the school. My little brother helped carry the torch during his high school years.

High school finished as a beautiful time of life. During that time I established myself as someone who was trustworthy to my lost friends and I was able to talk to them regularly about faith and struggle and life. I was learning to live with intentionality, even in the midst of typical teenage issues. When that chapter of life came to a close, a new chapter opened; the chapter of college. I attended East Texas Baptist University where initially I went due to being recruited to play basketball. The collegiate basketball venture lasted only a year though. It was a full time job, and honestly my passion for the sport had become far more recreational then competitive. I enjoyed the year, enjoyed the team, but I needed far more time to enjoy a social life, and slowly but surely ministry opportunities were presenting themselves to me. My junior year of high school I learned to play guitar and within 6 to 8 months I was leading songs for our youth group. The guitar became a great outlet for me in the midst of some of the family issues that began brewing before my parents divorce. Worship through music was becoming a passion and a gift I wanted to explore to its full potential. To explore this gift meant giving up the sport I had spent so much time practicing in previous years. So I gave up one thing that was becoming more work then pleasure and began working on something that brought me much pleasure; worshiping God, through music.

I did not regret quitting basketball. I did not feel bad about it at all actually and only missed it in moments when I was at games. God blessed that decision and allowed me a great opportunity in the worship leading just a few months later. The summer after my freshman of college I was hired as a music leader for the ministry of World Changers and served for 10 weeks on the Northwest travel team. That was a great experience that completely affirmed my love for leading worship and serving the lost. When I got back to college life was really good. I had a great roommate and great surroundings and found myself getting submerged in any ministry opportunity available. Honestly I got involved in too much. That year went by in a flash and I found myself overloaded with service and having to learn the invaluable lesson that serving God can not be a supplement for knowing and loving God on a personal level. The next summer I served with World Changers again as a music leader and again was sent out to the Northwest. This part of America was beginning to hold a special place in my heart, not only for its natural beauty, but for its vast lostness. Christians in the Northwest were so real, so un-awkward, so un-trendy, and so needy for Jesus. Here is where I breathed fresh air; not only in the Northwest skies, but in the Northwest believers.

My junior and senior years of college were the most character building years of my life. I was in fellowship with some of the most amazing men of God that I know. Guys who loved Christ because of what He had done in their lives, guys who were not afraid to admit struggles and failures, not afraid to rejoice in victories, small or large, and guys who prayed, really prayed. These 3 guys showed me what it means to live in community. These guys saved my life. The previous two years of college seemed to be all about serving, about being active for the Lord, about leading worship everywhere that I could, about being in every bible study, every prayer group, every mentoring relationship; these years were all about me. When I moved in with these guys I realized that loving the Lord does not mean you have to be in high profile ministries. By this time I was getting into my major and my schedule was filled with Bible courses and I really wanted to honor God with my studies. The thing I learned most in this season is that having people think I’m spiritual is not very satisfying, and not near as fulfilling as actually spending time with Jesus in my room with the door closed. It was also during this time I learned that God seemed nearer to me when I was feeding homeless guys at the local mission then when I was in a surface level bible study or prayer group. This was also the time when I really got involved in the local church.

Instead of serving on campus I began pouring my efforts into Bel-Air Baptist church, a congregation of about 100 people; 50 or so under the age of 25 and 50 or so over the age of 60. It was fantastic. I joined the church and began spending substantial time with the pastor and college minister, both of whom I still have a relationship with today. I felt my soul come back to life those years, when things were about serving others and not having others serve me. Leading worship can make you a rock star and I hate that. It frustrates me that singing songs to a holy and worthy God somehow tends to make the singer the spotlight and not the God. Serving in the church with people two and three times my age brought me back to reality, back to my love for people and for God’s beautiful bride, the church. I learned so much in my college years. I learned how to approach scripture with humility and knowledge, how to appreciate Christian history, and I learned that ministry is about relationships, and success therein is not measured by programs or size or years or but rather by the names of individuals. There exist names of individuals who changed my perspective in college, changed my attitude, my heart, and my purpose. The Lord used these people to change me and challenge me to be more, so much more. These people and their names made college quite a success for me.

After college is where a journey began that would take another ten pages to write about. Upon graduation my friend Drew Worsham and I decided we were going to go on a road trip of sorts; a sojourn if you will. Both of us had summer jobs that would have us busy for a full ten weeks, me with a camp ministry called Centrifuge and Drew with a similar group called Student Life. During that summer and even before that, Drew and I were contacting people we had met through the years and telling them about our desire to travel the country sharing our heart and our gifts and our story. We said this was not a money making venture but rather something we both wanted to do because we felt God’s leading and had the time and the ability. This actually worked and for 10 months we traveled from North Carolina to California to Washington to Indiana and most places in between. At the end of the trip we had driven 20 thousand miles and performed in over 50 venues, whether they be youth groups, college groups, whole church groups, coffee shops, clubs, concert halls, and anywhere that had a sound system and a gathering. The Lord showed himself so faithful on so many levels; from providing enough money to get from place to place to always getting us set up with an amazing family that would let us sleep on their couch or their guest bedroom. We never paid for a place to sleep the whole time we traveled. Even when the clutch went out in our vehicle, it happened in the perfect place, and the pastor of the church we had just performed in knew a mechanic who fixed our problem and sent us on our way owing nothing. I still think the pastor picked up the bill, but he never would admit to it. People always picked up the bill for us and never admitted to it. It seemed that in every location people stored up much treasure in heaven on our behalf. God’s can be so good.

In the midst of those months, those endless hours in the car, and those many miles God began to whisper to my heart. What He said was so simple, so true. “Josh, you need community again.” Being with one guy all the time is not bad, and staying with a loving family each night is also not bad, and having people clap for you while your on the stage singing songs is really not that bad either, but in the midst of that, if one is not careful, you can become starved of authentic relationships. One or two nights in each town only flirt with the idea of relationships, and e-mails and phone calls can not serve as your source of accountability, not fully anyway. I began to feel God calling me back to the Northwest, back to that fresh air, and back to the local church. While in Washington, Drew and I spent a substantial amount of time in the city of Pullman. It was in Pullman that I met some amazing people that reminded me of what it was like to have friends who love me and speak into my life. It was also in Pullman that the lostness of a community overwhelmed me. Pullman is home to Washington State University, 18 thousand students, and just 7 miles down the road in Moscow, Idaho is the University of Idaho, another 13 thousand students. In this small corner of southeastern Washington and western Idaho was the population of over 30 thousand college students. After recognizing this mass congregation of the 18-24 year olds I began doing some research and talking to some local staff and found out that out of all of these students less then 3% of them will attend church during their college tinier. This truth bothered me for the remainder of our time on the road, this truth still bothers me.

It was nine months ago that Drew and I packed our bags and moved from Texas, the land of church on every corner, to Pullman, the land where the local church is ever so needed. Since being here I have had to consistently take inventory of my heart and consistently remind myself that without God’s leadership and without prayer, nothing of long term difference will happen here. The comforting thing about the move is that I feel that this is something God has been revealing to me for years. Three out of my four summers in college I served in camp/mission trip ministry here in the Northwest, namely Washington. God began this love for the Northwest in me years ago and this love has yet to disappear. The story of my life has placed me where I am now, has placed me in this moment, trying to reach the unchurched in the Pullman/Moscow collegiate scene. My story has not been easy, it is been filled with hurt and struggle and redemption and joy, and people, people have filled my story. Jesus has also filled my story. He has placed in my soul a hope that satisfies in the midst of all hardship, that fulfills even in the midst of great joy. He called me out of death and then into the local church and now back into the college campus for the sake of his kingdom.

I am grateful to be where I am and to be who I am. Though I am still working on so many aspects of my character, and I still need to change so much, I find beauty in the truth that all of this, all of these words, they are unique to me. These words are more then the story of me, they are story of others as well, and the story of Jesus, and a story that is far from over. In that truth and in light of all this, there is much to be grateful for.

27 assignment

2009-09-26T10:16:00.008-07:00

of the 27 assignments i received before i failed out of seminary this was my favorite:

Josh,
You are a Jew in Jerusalem who was born in the year 70 B.C. It is now the year 7 A.D. and you have decided to write a brief memoir to describe how times have changed in Israel and how you feel about it. What do you say? - Dr. Roberston

Israel as I have know her has had many rulers, but only one Lord, many masters, but only one King, and much turmoil but only one Prince of Peace. I was born a generation removed from an Independent Jewish state and a generation and a half away from Judas “Maccabeus” blessed cleansing of our sacred temple. This meant that the world of my childhood was rooted in Jewish customs while simultaneously saturated by the Greeks and their Hellenistic worldview. My parents have told me stories about times from before I have memory in which the Jews could hardly function under the pressure of the Greeks. In response, many of them revolted violently, while others, later to be known as Pharisee’s, revolted spiritually. Whether the battles were internal or ex, it was not long before the pressure was so intense that a battle took place when I was about five year old between Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II.

What followed I cannot soon forget. About the time my memory was accessible to me our region was under the leadership of the world power Rome. Hyrcanus II was the ruler throughout my upbringing and Herod the Great has reined the majority of my adult life. Being under the leadership of Rome meant a few things to be sure of. You see, Rome had power over a vast amount of land and a vast amount of people, so in order to keep things in line, Rome needed to have quick strike ability, so there were soldiers everywhere. These soldiers seemed to have only a few responsibilities and number one on their list was to be sure everyone understood the same thing. Rome is the empire above all things, what Rome says is not negotiable, it’s law, and if you are not in agreement with that, then you can be tortured and killed and put on display for all to see.

My friends and I would always try to make friends with the soldiers growing up, always asked them if they wanted to take part in our game, but rarely would they give us a look of anything but disdain. Truth is we didn’t want to play with those guys anyway, we just wanted an opportunity to make spectacle of them, to show them that we were real people and in our games, Rome didn’t always win. As I grew older the politics of Rome began to really weight heavy on me and I could see why my parents struggled to pay taxes and struggled to love their neighbors who were serving as tax collectors for Rome. Times were tough for the Jews and there were times when God seemed far away. But there was also a wrestling going on deep within as if something was stirring in our midst though no one could quite put his or her finger on it. This unease was not coming from the expansions that were happening all around and it wasn’t coming from the forced peace, or travel, it seemed to be coming from within, from afar, from ever so near.

Herod the Great is what I remember most, and I remember that he tried to kill every bit of passion that everyone in our world had. Maybe this was due to his extreme inferiority complex or just his disdain for Jews and their hope in a Messiah that had nothing to do with him. He raised taxes, he fought unfair, and he always seemed to have another legislation that had more to do with his gain than anyone else’s. He was a man in need of humbling, and I remember so well the night that humbling appeared, and the irony of it all is that it appeared in the most humble of places.

Jesus who some say is the Christ we have long waited for was born on a cool night in Bethlehem while the sky was lit with affirmation. Herod heard the rumor from three astrologers. I heard when they saw Jesus they were afraid of what Herod might do to him, so they spoke falsely to cover his where about. Herod ended up doing the most despicable thing of my lifetime by ordering the deaths of all male children under the age of two in that area. Fortunate for me, my children and grandchildren were older at that time but my neighbors lost a dear child to this mad mans pride. Thankfully Herod the Great lost his throne about three years ago. It is our hope that things will change, because Israel is certainly in need of redemption, and if that must come from a child born in a stall that I have as well heard rumors about, then may it be so, and may his rule and his kingdom surely come soon.

27 worldview.

2009-09-24T10:42:00.013-07:00

27 words bidding us to see the worldview of this jesus:

caught.

adultery.

thrown before jesus.

kneels.

writes.

speaks.

let him without sin cast stone.

where are they.

neither do i condemn.

go.

in peace.

sin.

no more.

27: road-trip

2009-09-22T21:10:00.004-07:00

a day in the life of drew worsham and i. specifically Day 27:

9:54 a.m.
Again the intended time of departure is not the time in which we depart. No complaints though, time is still on our side, which is good because time is a valuable ally to have, and before long we will find our eyes gracing the beauty that is the Grand Canyon. I’m excited, can't you tell.

Breakfast took place at this hometown restaurant here in Albuquerque where I had pancakes that honestly weren’t too great. No IHop or even Waffle House for that matter. Last night we attended a birthday party for this girl’s pops and we had enchiladas that also honestly weren’t that great. Cultural food really is not my flavor. I need to get over that if ever I end up in the overseas missions realm of life. Brothers over there have to eat anything, but that’s another story for another day. After breakfast we hit a Goodwill that was right across the street and collected a few New Mexico memorabilia. Brushed my teeth in the bathroom of a gas station a few minutes ago, it was nice and disgusting all at the same time. The road is where my home is now, the endless friendly road that leads us to where we are headed. Father protect us, lead us, guide us, be all to us.

11:27 a.m.
We entered Arizona to the welcome of 15 Indian paraphernalia stores beckoning us to spend. So we did. Or one of us did anyway. Indians are wonderfully talented and resourceful people. They could probably make something purchasable out of just about anything. Having people like that on the planet is a blessing considering the wastefulness of our culture. I bet God is part Indian. Anyhow, during our visit I brought 4 random stickers of four random places to two random girls and then patted my pocket to see that my random wallet was not with me. Random story I know but my point is that when I left the store I had my four stickers but Drew was actually the one that paid for them. It’s cool though because I purchased a shirt at Goodwill for him but a few hours earlier. Things work out for folks who are willing to let things work out. Whether it be used shirts at thrift stores or bootleg stickers from an Indian shop, things work themselves out. Father continue to work things out.

1:54 p.m.
Had my first experience at the franchise called Del Taco just a few minutes ago and it was a pleasant one to say the least. Nourishment for fewer than 5 bucks is hard to beat. A family came in with a couple of younger kids and it made me smile that the kids did not even look at the menu. There sites were set on the playground and what food was offered in this restaurant was irrelevant to them. As I refilled my coca-cola product I saw the mother ordering for her children as they were by this time enjoying life atop the recreational equipment. Two children played all the while subconsciously trusting that their parents would provide a fixing for this thing called hunger. I could go all spiritual now and attempt some amazing parallel to the good book but I’ll refrain due to the fact that not everything in life has to be some psycho over analyzed moment in which spiritual application would benefit your walk with Christ. Sometimes life itself, which is Christ by the way, is simply meant to be observed and cherished. The process of family structure and the experiences of life are great if you allow them to not be over looked. Each person I see, whether they are eating at Del Taco along with the public, or if they are working behind the counter or stopping to use the restroom, each person is a story, a reflection of upbringing, a display of creation, a moment of uniqueness. I wish I had the time to spend with each individual I saw in Del Taco this afternoon and ask them about themselves, about their hopes and fears and aspirations; ask them about life or lack thereof. Even now as we draw nearer to the Grand Canyon I sit in the middle of this thing called life, this beautiful gift deserving my awe. Father allow your glory to be unmasked to the lost. Allow your people the strength to display your worth to a world who that so many times neglects the gift of seeing, knowing, and loving you.

10:48 p.m.
The Grand Canyon lived up to every bit of its description. It was and is quite Grand. When the sun finally said its goodbye to Arizona and hid himself behind the Canyon at 7:16 tonight something rather fitting took place. Everyone gathered at the particular look out point in which we were began to clap; people clapping for the glory of God whether they realized it or not. I smiled and enjoyed the wind blowing my unwashed hair out of my face as I too applauded the King. Today was wonderful, that Canyon was so big. Huge if you will; its remarkable how your eyes want to take it all in but have no chance against the vastness of the horizon. Cameras images are mere finger-paintings compared to the art before your eyes. Something else that is remarkable in not quite as grandeur of a scale is that right now I’m sitting in a hotel lobby using their wireless internet when I’m not even a guest here. People are so kind to travelers, if your just honest with them and don’t make yourself sound to much like a bum. Just act natural Josh. We’re off to stay in our humble abode for the night. It’s a tent at lot 35 of the Grand Canyon National Park. An interesting thing here is that it is hard to find anyone who speaks English, the nations are at our front door these days. I’m serious about that one; I’ve heard at least 10 different languages in the last 4 hours. The tent is calling so I must answer. Goodbye today, you were new history that was enjoyable to make.

27: memories.

2009-09-22T10:18:00.002-07:00

in honor of dave crowders' church music, which all of you should buy, i'm posting 27 church memories that i have had in my life that is quickly approaching 27 years.

1- singing in the choir for first baptist church center. not joking, i sang next to guy in his 60's named Dr. Hooker. he had a sweet low voice, a firm hand shake, a worn out KJV bible, and a beautiful wife who always wore great pearl necklaces.

2- when my brother got baptized at first baptist church daisetta and he was substantially larger than the pastor. he came up out of the water like a champ though. i think the spirit helped him.

3- when i had to sing a song for graduation sunday at FBC daisetta and i chose better is one day, my guitar was out of tune, and all i could think about was what the ladies were thinking of me.

4- i served as a intern youth minister at FBC shreveport and we met in a room that the adult women used for aerobics right before our gathering. sometimes it smelled funny, and the rooms left wall (which was about 30 yards long) was one huge mirror so we would always catch kids looking at themselves.

5- working every summer of high school as a maintenance man at cornerstone church in liberty tx. thats where i got really good at ping pong, running a weed eater, and attempting to speak in the tongues. i loved that place and those people.

6- the first time i remember thinking about the hymn, "are you washed in the blood of the lamb" and thinking that if someone who didn't understand the bible walked in and heard us singing that, they might think were were crazy.

7- when my family was having financial issues growing up, on more than one occasion i opened our front door to find a porch full of groceries that someone from our church had dropped off.

8- when a pastor in which i served under allowed a homosexual couple to join the church {this has an extremely long beautiful story to go with it and no correlation with #22-24 on my list}.

9- when during a youth led service night i was to give the sermon and i walked on stage and couldn't find my notes in my binder, so i on the fly acted like the spirit was leading me not to preach but rather have a share-time night. it was super lame.

10- the night i almost got slain in the spirit, i went forward and lifted my hands, but every time the preacher pushed on my forehead and prayed i just started thinking about how he had nice breath and soft hands so i never fell down or caught the fire.

11- my friend jason and i taught vacation bible school recreation time every summer. one day a kid kicked the kickball and it flew into the street and in mid air hit a semi truck driving by. it was incredible. his team won automatically.

12- i remember easter. the girls always looked prettier and taller than usual on easter.

13- i remember our church youth leader would bite kids toes to get them out of bed at summer camp.

14- at fbc center i gave myself the nickname "street" to all the guys. because of course, "you better look both ways before you cross the street."

15- about twice a week i would get invited to the children's ministry room where all the floors were padded and we would move the toys and a few guys in the youth group would challenge the name and attempt to in fact cross the street.

16- i went to youth camp one summer with my charismatic friends and won an award called, "the next rod parsley award". at that time i had no idea who rod parsley was, and now that award has proved not to be prophetic.

17- this awesome band called "pocket full of rocks" always led worship for our big youth events. they mastered the art of singing the same words forever and it never got old.

18- i remember the first time someone told me that the church is not a building and i think my head exploded.

19- the first church song i ever learned on guitar was "every move i make"

20- the second was "lord i lift your name on high"

21- the third was "smoke on the water" that's a very spiritual song. it's from the book of revelation.

22- i remember the first time i sat in a business meeting that led to a legitimate church split.

23- during that meeting i remember thinking how great it would be if these guys actually got into an actual fist fight.

24- i remember the first time i saw someone come to know christ in the church. it was after the worst sermon and most boring song set we had in a long time. that was a lesson that i never forgot.

25- moving 2,300 miles to help start a church. i remember that most days.

26- then that church turned 2. that was a good day as well.

27- a church quote that hurts me with it's truth: "the church is a whore, but she is my mother." -augustine

27: don miller

2009-09-21T00:08:00.003-07:00

i'm approaching 27 and i would like to do so remembering 27 things i learned from donald miller this weekend. these are lessons about story. about you. about me. about us. and the story in which we are telling, and in which we find ourselves.

1- a story is a character who wants something and overcomes obstacles in order to get it.

2- we are living a narrative, not random experiences.

3- not just any character makes a great story.

4- a characters actions prove his goodness, not his sayings, or his motives.

5- the story you are telling yourself is typically not the same story you're telling the world.

6- don't want less, just want the right things, and want better things more.

7- 3,000 commercials a day are hijacking our story.

8- if your character dies what dies with him/her, if the answer is nothing then who cares, that character isn't worth being in your story, get him/her out.

9- when making choices pretend you are living life the second time around.

10- no conflict = no story

11- God is the great storyteller because his story has conflict.

12- it took adam 10-100 years to name the animals.

13- adam says she is like me. when she appears the text breaks into song. he loved and valued eve because he went through hell to get her.

14- christian theology tells of no resolution, but christians are afraid to tell that story.

15- denmark is the happiest country on earth because they have such low expectations.

16- everyone in denmark walks around pleasantly surprised.

17- america is the 32nd happiest country in america.

18- conflict serves you, no matter how long it lasts, as a blessing.

19- jesus doesn't make everything ok. him making things better is only partly true.

20- a christian should live in a state of frustrated joy.

21- you don't have to win to have a meaningful story, the story is in the sacrifice, not the victory.

22- we are in act 2, and the resolution and consummation will not happen until a wedding in heaven, and all we have here is hope, but this hope will not disappoint.

23- quit asking the world to tell the story.

24- only stories can adjust the moral compasses.

25- every good story has a christ figure.

26- you can't sell books if you tell the truth.

27- it is our commission to tell a better story, and our actions are already doing that.

27: advice

2009-09-20T12:07:00.002-07:00

27 revival.

2009-09-19T18:10:00.014-07:00

it was 7 years ago. it was in a small town outside of houston tx. it was quite hot outside.

it was a revival of sorts. in a backwards sense. if you understand.

a local church had shelled out some cash to bring in a loud band and a fiery preacher. i was a group leader. my responsibility was to lead 8 jr high students through the neighborhood doing surveys.

the survey was pretty basic. 10 questions or so. none of which included, "what is your name".

but the last question on the survey simply stated, "if you died right now would you go to heaven or hell?" and whatever the person answered, we were to ask why they answered that way. if we found their response insufficient then we were to attempt to share the "you are a sinner and headed towards hell, would you like to be saved story" and then ask them if they wanted to repeat a prayer of assurance/salvation after us, right there on the doorstep, in the heat.

at this point in my life i hadn't really thought about a philosophy of evangelism or thought through what i wanted my life to be about fully. all i knew is that i was pretty sure i had a legit love relationship with jesus and wanted others to experience the same. if knocking on doors and putting people on the spot on a saturday afternoon might help then i was willing to do it, or so i thought.

this was all pre-revival of course.

from home to home we walked and knocked and sweated and surveyed. the first few folks were polite enough and some of them even allegedly knew jesus. it was house number 5 that started the downward fall. or awakening. it was an older gentleman on a lawnmower with his shirt off. we stopped him and asked our questions. but when we got to the heaven and hell question, he just started his mower and rode away.

house 6 shut the door gently. as did house 7 and 8. all at the same moment in which shirtless mower man rode away.

but it was house 9 that brought about the revival.

he was a younger guy and he opened the door with a fairly free spirit about him. he seemed genuinely interested in the students efforts, concern for their sunburns, and even offered water and sun block. i was standing on the porch behind the middle schoolers holding a clipboard. a stupid brown clipboard.

the survey began and he answered openly. then came question 10. a sweet jr high girl asked him, right there in the texas heat, if he died right now did he think he would he go to heaven or hell.

he paused for a long moment, smiled down at the pre-teen and then looked up at me.

his expression changed. he looked right at me and spoke as if everything that just happened was my responsibility, my doing, and as if he and i were the only people on that porch, the only people in houston. with disappointment in his eyes he said, "you let these kids come to my door and ask me this type of question and you know nothing about me. you don't know my name, my story, or my life, and you have them here asking me this." "bro. you're lame, and the way you are leading these kids is lame."

then he put his hand on her head and said, "i'm sorry guys, have a good day." and he closed the door.

i had a hard time leaving the porch. i wanted to knock on the door say i'm sorry. say thanks for the truth. say something of substance, tell him that i hated my clipboard. anything. but i didn't. i did nothing. i couldn't move. i just stood there miserable. having a hard time breathing.

eventually we walked away, and as we did, i told my team we were changing question 10 and starting with what is your name.

the guy at house 9 will never read this. but i want to say thanks none the less. that day, in that heat, with that clipboard, you changed my life. and i want you to know i've never told the Story that way again. and that i'll never forget that look you gave me, even if i live another 27 years.

27 songs.

2009-09-18T12:41:00.012-07:00

so i'm approaching 27 and i do so with something from within resonate church.

for the last two years i've had the privilege to lead my local church in corporate worship and here are the 27 songs we have sang the most, so far; already working on 27 more, could use those for the next list.

{in no particular order and with the artist in which version we sing}

1- The Glory of it All {David Crowder}

2- Glorious Day {Jeff Johnson}

3- Sweetly Broken {Jeremy Riddle}

4- Nothing but the Blood {Charlie Hall}

5- Inside Out {Hillsong}

6- Come Thou Fount {David Crowder}

7- Hosanna {Brooke Frasier}

8- All Praise to God {Billy Foote}

9- Before The Throne of God (Shane and Shane)

10- Cannons {Phil Wickham}

11- Spring of Life {Kristian Stanfill}

12- Beautiful the Blood {Steve Fee}

13- Mighty to Save {Hillsong}

14- How He Loves Us {Kim Walker}

15- Beautiful Jesus {Kristian Stanfill}

16- Ruin Me {Jeff Johnson}

17- Salvation is Here {Hillsong/Kristian Stanfill}

18- Center {Charlie Hall}

19- True Love {Phil Wickham}

20- Kingdoms Tangible {not important}

21- Everlasting God {Brenton Brown}

22- Healer {Casey Darnell}

23- Yes You Have {Leeland}

24- Everything {Lifehouse}

25- Song of Hope {Robbie Seay}

26- Lead me to the Cross (Brooke Frasier}

27- Jesus Paid it All {Kristian Stanfill}

27 confessions.

2009-09-17T12:12:00.006-07:00

im approaching 27, and would like to do so with 27 confessions:

1- i've only completely read 3 C.S. Lewis books but quote him all the time.

2- i may in fact secretly love preaching more than i love leading worship.

3- music doesn't come easy to me, i have to work really hard to learn new songs.

4- i started seminary last august and failed both my classes because i didn't take either of the finals.

5- sometime last year i started grinding my teeth when i sleep, it's terrible.

6- daily i wonder if i'm fulfilling my calling and why i still have bad skin.

7- i want to write a book but the thought of it paralyzes me.

8- my parents divorced when i was 17, reconciled when i was 22, now live together but are not remarried. i told them i will only become an ordained minister to do their wedding.

9- if i'm honest i don't like the taste of beer and smell of cigar smoke.

10- i am not comfortable with the title of pastor but i really want to be.

11- i've probably only read half of the books that are in my house.

12- i have authority issues, which means i have God issues.

13- sometimes i go weeks without reading the bible alone privately.

14- church planting is hard. really really hard.

15- the only thing i'm O.C.D about is the volume of the music that is playing while i'm in a room full of people.

16- i didn't realize how selfish i was until i got married.

17- in my heart, i'm pretty critical, judgemental, and an all around cynic.

18- i don't listen to the beatles, johnny cash, the ramones or much other trendy music but i pretend that i do. you may in fact find my iTunes top 25 quite boring.

19- i've conditioned myself to enjoy the sin and repent cycle more than i have conditioned myself to walk in freedom and confidence.

20- my greatest fear is that an incompetent person would call me incompetent.

21- i keep a list on the back page of my journal of overused words that make my stomach hurt and that i commit to never use.

22- in the last month i've watched what not to wear and project runway more than any other show on television.

23- i once broke my little brothers arm while wrestling on a trampoline. we didn't realize it was broken for a week. i was in a lot of ways growing up a pretty lame big brother.

24- when i was 12 i set off a stink bomb in the post office of my hometown.

25- i've tried speaking in tongues on more than one occasion. it made me feel weird so i stopped.

26- i don't know my biological father at all. there is a blank spot where his name is supposed to be on my birth certificate, sometimes that bothers me, sometimes it inspires me, one time i almost wrote God there.

27- sometimes randomly throughout the day i'll look up at the sky, and whisper come back, come back, just come back already.

27 lessons:

2009-09-16T23:37:00.005-07:00

im approaching 27. so here are 27 things i've learned:

1- when buying electric guitar strings go with a heavier gauge.

2- a dishwasher is more important than you think it would be.

3- i am the common denominator in all my problems.

4- saying that i am wrong and that i am sorry at least once a day is a must.

5- winning the argument at the cost of their heart is not worth it.

6- making up a god is our new favorite pastime.

7- i should spend more time on the phone with my family.

8- that social networking is making me less of a reader of deep things.

9- that success in ministry is defined by the names of individuals.

10- books and songs don't write themselves.

11- pretending is the lamest way to live.

12- the point of marriage is not to make you happy but to make you holy.

13- what the world, my church, and my wife most need from me is my holiness.

14- podcasts are great as long as they don't make you hate your pastor.

15- you may in fact be what you eat.

16- the most important thing about you is what you think of when you think of God.

17-just saying you are relevant or missional doesn't mean you really are.

18- no matter how hard we try, the gospel will never be cool.

19- information alone never leads to transformation.

20- mustaches and tuxedo shirts are hilarious.

21- that a world of sound bites and hype is additive and shallow.

22- sometimes the method is the message, more than the message is the message.

23- he's not a tame lion.

24- everyone has a good story if you are willing to listen.

25- everyone is willing to listen if you have a good story.

26- no one is waiting on us to turn a certain age before we can change the world.

27- God is more concerned with who i am becoming than he is with where i am going.

the name.

2009-09-11T14:11:00.001-07:00

it all hinges on a name.
my story, my future, my life, being poured out.
this name changes things.
for this name will be responsible for the reconciliation of all things.

the ancient text points to the name.
the literature is sacred because of the name.
the process, the point, the destination, is all in the name.
because this name changes things.

the first people of the way were known by the name.
they advanced an invisible kingdom by the power of the name.
they blessed the world under the inspiration of the name.
their allegiance to the name still echos among us today.

some were killed for the name.
some were tortured for the name.
some lost family over this name.
and some, even went to their grave whispering the name.

there was sufficiency in this name.
there was something about this name.
empires rose and fell from their perspective of this name.
and empires abused the beauty of the name.

the evidence was in the name.
the indictment was in the name.

but what do we do with the name.
how do we respond to the name.
has the name changed our everything.
has the name changed anything.

have fear and trembling come from the name.
have hope and security come from the name.
have peace and joy been found in the name.
is the name, in our lives, above everything.

the name is other.
the name is far.
the name is near.
the name is present.

the name will return.
the name will bring the world to its knees.
so let your name be lifted higher.

a theology of struggle/victory.

2009-07-24T09:53:00.002-07:00

my faith could be defined as a theology of struggle. a back and a forth. a foot here and a foot there. a thorn. of sorts. a tattoo of romans 7 across my soul.

my problem is that the tattoo, the struggle, has become a bit more of a battle cry than a cry of repentance. i’ve grown comfortable in my issues. i’ve nurtured seeds in the garden of my heart that i should be toiling to rid.

if i am not careful i begin to believe these issues are okay, that they are there for good, and for my good, and there is nothing i can do about it.

struggle is heathy, sure. a theology of struggle is important, yes.
but so is a theology of victory and a theology of internal war.
and therein lies my problem.

when i started following jesus i did so in the context of two churches. one was full of people who were willing to name things, claim things, shame things, pray for things, lay hands on things, and believe that anything could be changed by a vocal declaration. most days i really loved it, got caught up in it, tried it myself, but somedays it was hard for me. somedays i didn’t feel it. somedays i wouldn’t close my eyes. somedays i just wasn’t sure that my issue was because some negative spiritual force had dominion over me. somedays i just thought i was a punk kid and immaturity and peer pressure and girls had a grip on me.

the other side of those early faith years were spent in a church where hymns were involved, ties were involved, order of service and bulletins were involved, and the only time hand raising was involved was when the pastor asked for volunteers to serve in vacation bible school or to cook for a pot-luck. people worshiped through serving and through giving but their was certainly a lack of emotion in the whole experience. most days i really loved it, appreciated the richness and non-excessive repetition, and a language i could understand, but there were times when i wanted to be honest but felt hindered, times when i wanted to express but it felt unwelcome, and times when tradition dominated the spirit.

at one place it felt like it was okay to struggle as long as you kept it to yourself and dealt with it quietly and at the other struggling could be remedied by going forward and publicly taking a nice rebuke. lord knows growing up i needed a dose of both.

these two cultures inside of me, at moments, still serve as an internal collision. i still find myself dealing quietly, privately, and i still find myself calling on the name of jesus to take the devils dominion away. the struggle and the victory and the impression of both beautiful places are still there, quite deeply there.

the other day i was having coffee with a friend who has a similar church background. i was trying to convince him to chill out and not get all worked up over his sin. i was trying to convince him of the beauty of the struggle, the beauty of the process, the beauty of the bounce back. i told him that’s what we should be telling new believers. how to work through things, not expect perfection, how to get up and try again.

he sat quietly for a minute looking off into space, probably drinking sweetly of my musings. probably thinking over this perspective. probably thinking i was brilliant.

but when he turned and spoke, it surprised me. i thought he would say that’s good stuff, or i agree or you’re brilliant or something along those lines.

instead, he said, josh, “what about us.” what if the faith isn’t new anymore, and what about the sins that have become too at home in our hearts. what about the scriptures that speak of holiness and laying aside all the sins that entangle and push forward and take every thought captive.

this wasn’t what i was expecting and i certainly didn’t sit down with him to have my heart condition spoken to. but it happened. like an old school prophet he spoke truth to me. it almost hurt, it almost took my breath away.

his gentle tone was not indicting but his passion was infectious. he almost started to cry as he said josh, what do we do with the cross. what do we do with that kind of love, that kind of kindness, and that sort of story. he said that in his life there are things that he can never go back to. things that he can never let in again, things that he refuses to toy with, refuses to touch. he told me that the death of christ is not access to struggle for him, but access to victory. he said we overcome because of his name. we are more than conquers because of his name.

this may have been the first time i had heard someone appeal to the name without being overboard emotional and board-line weird. he wasn’t being loud, he wasn’t being crazy, he was just a guy across the table, saying to me that jesus is enough.

i left there thinking that i was too comfortable in a shirt that God had long wanted me to get rid of. i haven’t thought about my issues the same since. i still believe in the struggle, still convinced of the process and i still love the humanity of paul in romans 7, but in light of the bigger picture i had been neglecting the truth of the same guy saying that all things are possible through the name of him who gives me strength.

may we labor and wage well in that work of internal war. may we cling to the victory found in his name, even in the midst of a life that will never be free from sin. and may we struggle well, may we get up when we fall, and may the kindness of the Lord, not the letter of the law always be that which leads us to repentance.

funerals. death. sting.

2009-07-19T10:43:00.001-07:00

this week my friend mike died. he gave me my first job in pullman. and in february my wife and i went to a marriage conference and of all the couples in the room, mike and his wife had been married the longest, and of all the couples in the room, amy and i had been married the shortest, so we were partnered together.

on saturday i went to his memorial service. it was horrible, it was beautiful. he was a young man who is leaving behind a beautiful wife of over 30 years and three children.

when i walked into the church the air in the foyer felt heavy. people weren’t talking very loud and you could hear the faint melody of a piano. there was a small table set up with things to remember mike by that some were looking at.

it wasn’t long before i started seeing people that i know. and it wasn’t long before i was hugging people that in three years of living in pullman i have never hugged. i think something about death reminds people to live. hugs are a sign of life.

once we entered the sanctuary we were handed a small booklet that had mike’s smile on the front of it and showed his lifespan. we sat near the front on the left side and once settled into our chairs the pain of it all started to seep through my chest. i looked around and thought, “sorry mike, you were the kind of guy that deserved this type of gathering while you were alive”. and i can’t say that for everyone.

my heart was burdened, my eyes were heavy, my mind was racing. i don’t think i slowed down holistically until i saw to my right a couple who in pullman are pillars of faith and service and humility and godliness. they were sitting there quite. they were holding hands, the gentleman’s head held high but with no attempt to hide the sorrow deep in his eyes, and the lady’s head and shoulders were down a little. she looked confused, hurt, and still in process.

if it was not so socially awkward i would not have taken my eyes from this lady. i wanted to learn what it was like to live a long life of faithfulness and obedience and still be able to sit in a funeral of a friend and not pretend to be okay. i thought just by watching i could learn trust, i could learn life.

my attention did shift as the music faded and the family walked in. they came in slowly, intentionally, many holding each other. it was a beautiful picture.

apparently mike spoke of his death open and often. therefore, at his request, the gathering felt more like a worship service than a memorial.

i didn’t sing much though, i just sorta stood there, gazing off here and there, thinking this and that. i kept thinking about that lady. i kept thinking about the family walking in. i kept thinking about those hugs. i kept thinking about hoop-fest. when i worked with mike he told me he was going up one weekend to be a referee at hoop-fest. then on monday when he got back he told me stories from the games and showed me the new shoes they gave him. i couldn’t quite thinking of his joy over those shoes.
in the bible the apostle paul says oh death where is your sting, where is your victory. paul trusted the resurrection of jesus so much that death was gain for him. those verses don’t make sense until you are faced with death. until you are in the room with others and it is looming about. i understand mentally the basis of those texts but i don’t think i get it in my bones.

maybe that is the glory of faith. maybe faith is trusting that those things are true whether my body wants me to believe it or not. and maybe understanding that death here on earth has a sting will lead us to understand that the sting is temporary and the victory belongs to the One who overcame the grave.

mike loved jesus and trusted in grace through faith, so i’m not worried about him. i’m not praying for him. he’s home. i’m worried about us, praying for us. that we might be people who would live deeply, love actively, and pay more attention to steward well this short time we have.

on saturday i was also hurting for those in the sanctuary that didn’t know jesus. i know that tragedies like this can push them away from God. i’m worried for them. i’m praying for them. that they would see the light of the gospel and the glory of God that is in Christ Jesus.

i loved that the pastor spoke the truth. he said, “there is an american folk religion out there that says as long as you do enough good to outweigh the bad then you will get a fair shake with God. but what we have to understand is that jesus is our fair shake with God. He’s our only hope to right standing, to eternal life, and He is the place to put our trust, our fears, our questions.”

i hate funerals. i hate death. i hated saturday. but i love when saints go home.

may we be people who put our trust in the christ who overcame so that we may be found worthy to be called among them when our time comes.

andrew peterson.

2009-06-02T11:05:00.008-07:00

when someone asks me the questions what album would you take with you to a desert island if you could only take one album, or what album would you chose if you could only listen to one album for the rest of your life, i respond without hesitation:

andrew peterson's "behold the lamb of God: the true tall tale of christmas".

andrew is one of the best storytellers among us. he writes great songs of great depth, doesn't concern himself with being played on the radio, and now he's writing children's books. on the edge of the dark sea of darkness was his first, and his second is north! or be eaten.

anyhow, he released a live album yesterday and i think everyone should buy it, and his childrens books. i'm a fan. these videos are a small example of why.

behold the lamb of God:

deliver us:

great artist. great video.

2009-05-29T11:58:00.001-07:00

church haters.

2009-05-28T11:46:00.004-07:00

so i just watched a video called "church haters". the guy in the video talks about the shift in philosophy from that of seeker sensitive to that of church haters, which is those people who are not sensitive at all but rather hostile towards church.

i found that language interesting, quite interesting.

the seeker sensitive idea has never really appealed to me because i never really got a good explanation on how it was supposed to work. i guess it was meant to define a way in which you set up a church service in so that it was sensitive to those who weren't totally sure where they stood with this Jesus, but they were there in your building checking it out, you know seeking, and therefore the service should be sensitive to those, and if your planning for sunday used that filter then you could be a placed under the seeker sensitive umbrella. i think my problem was that to me from the outside looking in, and in seeing a very small picture, it all just sounded like a spiritual way of saying you were dressing down, singing top 40 songs in worship, trying to become a better 90 minutes, or in some cases being something that you really aren't for the sake of those who really aren't sure why they were there. or something like that.

then i heard of those who would say yeah, we're a seeker sensitive church, God is the seeker and we are sensitive to Him and what He wants from us. i liked that mostly, but then realized that it was just a clever way of being a hater of those who were trying the seeker sensitive thing and really what you were saying is that our church is not going to change, we are who we are, take it or leave it, were not here for questions, or for seeking, and we are not interested in being progressive or current even, we have other things to speak of such as carpet colors. or something like that.

so back to this church hater mentality thing. it is really throwing me. i think i like it conceptually and i think it's true kinda, but again it leads me to wonder.

everything leads me to wonder.

i don't know where our church lands on this pendulum. or if this whole thing even is a pendulum at all. i think as a church we have to be a little of both. and i think it means being self-aware, culture aware, and God-aware are non-negotiable. i think you have to sit in meetings and ask yourself honestly if what you are about to do on sunday is weird, or stupid, out of touch, or not God honoring. for instance, if you we are going to have a service in which at the end we hand out trucker hats with a christian quote and talk about having a myspace discussion board then we are not culturally aware. no one does that anymore and therefore we have just indicted ourselves as being a place that is out of touch, a bit lame, and trying way too hard, and i'm going to venture to say that doesn't honor God.

as a 26 yr old worship pastor at a church i want to be myself and in that be a worshiper who is aware and not living with a severe case of tunnel vision. i don't know if i want to be seeker sensitive or church hater sensitive but i know that i don't want to be so sensitive that i don't who i am, or to quote a bumper sticker i just saw "whos i am". i know i love music, i love coffee, i watch cnn, i check facebook, i have a lame twitter, and i read the rolling stones and secretly like lady gaga and eminem's skills, and i know that v-necks are growing on me, and i know that i submit my life to jesus. and i know somehow that is supposed to help me serve the world and speak truth and speak life and speak of a better way, the only way.

all the lingo makes my head heart. i think we need to change. i think we don't want to keep our traditions and lose a generation. i know that i'm to blame some for lame ideas, and i'm learning that i am the most relevant not when i know the must current things, but simply when i am the most loving. and i'm learning that we can't talk our way into being more socially acceptable. in the end, the gospel is messy and it speaks of a naked bloody God/man taking our place on a roman cross. no matter how hard we try it's impossible to make that cool. i hope my generation gets that.

let us be ourselves and let our lives and services reflect a creative awe-inspiring God who has captivated us, and who is worth our best effort, our entire life, and our striving for excellence. let us not work hard to be who we are not, let us work hard to be who we are. let us not think the goal is better music or funnier preaching or an all around better 90 minutes on sunday. let us get better at what we do on sunday, and more importantly on the rest of the week, for the sake of his glorious name, and for the sake of the One who was willing to tell a samaritan harlot that he is seeking those who worship in spirit and truth and that he is sensitive to the broken hearted and that he would give his life for those who hated him and his church.

the rose.

2009-05-26T00:22:00.001-07:00

heard this story many times but it never gets old:

free music.

2009-05-04T10:01:00.007-07:00

so good news for coldplay fans. on may 15th their live album which is going by the brilliantly not brilliant name of leftrightleftrightleft is going to be given away for free. they say it is because of the recession, either way, still pretty cool.

here is just a little video of their lead singer and the world's self proclaimed funniest person speaking of life, love, and sweatshops:

ain't no reason.

2009-04-21T11:32:00.001-07:00

songs that speak of better days, the way things could be, should be listened to over and over, simply because in our culture they are so rare.

spiritual. super.

2009-04-20T00:09:00.003-07:00

what church planting is like: