Honestly...

The Experience vs the Expectation Pt. 2- Visionary Blindness

2011-02-10T06:05:00.000-08:00

Jesus grew up as the son of a carpenter- sawing logs, planing wood, and generally doing all that woodsman stuff. For 30 years he found himself picking sawdust from his skin at night as he lay down to sleep, shoulders aching from a hard day's work For 30 years, he smelled the scent of cedar and birch as they filled his nostrils, and felt his hands callous with each stroke of the saw and each strike of the chisel. For 30 years, this was all he knew. For many, this could appear to be all he was, but Jesus knew there was more. In Luke 2:42 we have the beginnings of one of the more popular stories in Biblical history. Jesus' mother and father have returned from Passover in Jerusalem, sans Jesus. Presumably and understandably frantic and panicking, they return to Jerusalem only to find Jesus sitting with rulers and leaders of the synagogue talking about the Torah, impressing and amazing them all. When asked why he had left them so worried, his response was both prescient and profound, “But why did you need to search? Didn’t you know that I must be in my Father’s house?” Confused, I'd imagine that his parents shooed him home, upset that he had caused such a ruckus and made them come so far to find him. If they were like other parents of special or gifted children, I would imagine that they kept Jesus sheltered, especially knowing that there was quite literally a price on his head (see Matthew 2:16). For them, his disappearance had to set off all sort of alarm bells and leave them wondering if their son would be ok on his own. I mean after all, he was the son of a carpenter, not a street savvy or scholarly boy- why would he be amongst the leaders of his day? More importantly, how would they respond to him? That's a digression from the main topic though.

Jesus was by all accounts a man of hard work and long hours, someone who was ostensibly destined to pick up the mantle of his father after Joseph's hand had become too old to continue. In the midst of all this, Jesus knew there was more. Yes, one could argue that, being the son of God he didn't give his destiny a second thought, but the prayers in the Garden of Gethsemane belie this wasn't wholly true. Jesus was human, and as such, plagued by the same doubts as the rest of us. He was tempted in every way, and still didn't sin (see Hebrews 4:15)- meaning that even doubt came knocking at his door. Jesus was the son of a carpenter and he knew it, so how did he juxtapose what he knew about his background with what he also knew about his future and his destiny? How did Jesus deal with the dynamic tension that existed between the experiences of his upbringing and the expectations of his calling?

In Matthew 3 we have the account of Jesus coming to his cousin John to be baptized. An all too common practice at the time, it is unclear whether Jesus knew that something major was about to go down. After hearing the chastisement his cousin doled out to the leaders of the day for their hypocritical ways, it is still unclear what Jesus' full intentions were on this day- even though this is the day everything changed for Jesus (and arguably for the rest of us). Walking into the midst of the water, Jesus finds himself suddenly getting the greatest endorsement of all time. The heavens part, birds swoop down and voices boom from on high. Imagine for a moment you're one of the spectators of this whole deal. "What? God is well pleased? Huh- this is His son? I thought he was that Joseph guy's son...you know the one who does the stuff with the wood. "

We have the benefit of looking back on the story knowing the entire thing. We have a birds' eye view, but those who were in the midst of the story have no such benefit. To them, all they see is the confusion of having a carpenter's son suddenly thrust into the limelight as the son of God. But for how many of us is this also true? How many of us have spent our lives toiling away at a vocation, gaining skill and ability that make us the go to person for this or that, all the while knowing there was something more? How many of us have heard the words of others telling us that we are no more than where we are and what we've done, all the while believing there was something more to which we are called? Further, how many of us have attempted to step into our calling only to have people look at you and say, "This is just the carpenter's (or baker's, or plumber's, or...) son- we know his mother (see Matthew 13:55)? Most importantly, how many of us hear the scoffing, and see the disapproving looks in people's eyes and accept that what they say must be true, all the while feeling the burning passion for more deep within our chests? You know that there is a destiny for you, you can see it, taste it and it fills up the entirety of your vision, but find yourself so focused on what people are saying that you fail to see what God is showing you. You suddenly and inexplicably suffer from visionary blindness because the lies being told speak all too loudly in your ears.

I'll say again (and in closing because I know this post is forever long)- you are more that where you've been. You are a destiny and a purpose that God set in motion before the world was ever formed. You are called higher and farther than you can possibly imagine and, if for a moment your eyes could focus on the vision and shut out the cacophony of self doubt, you would find yourself stepping into a destiny that far surpasses you because, quite frankly, it was never about you in the first place.

The Experience vs the Expectation Pt. 1

2011-01-03T07:03:00.000-08:00

Jeremiah 29 is an interesting chapter. I'm sure we are all far too familiar with the whole "I know the plans..." part of the scripture in verse 11 and have probably either quoted or had it quoted to it to us in regards to our purpose, and the fact that God has a plan for all of us. But, what about the rest of the chapter? This morning, I kept thinking about what the KJV version calls "an expected end," and more specifically what that expectation was.

I am reminded of a conversation I had with my cousin Din a few months ago in which he pointed out the context of this passage. Jeremiah wrote this letter to the exiled children of Abraham while they were in exile. In the midst of their captivity and in the face of what could be seen by some as God forsaking them, Jeremiah speaks on behalf of God and tells his countrymen that God has not only not forgotten them, but has actually used this as a part of His plan. Seriously- are you kidding me?! If I'm one of the Israelites reading this letter, I am prone to believe that it's a bunch of bull because the God who delivered Moses and their predecessors is the same God who called Abram out of nothing to become their forefather, is the same God who spoke to Jacob in a dream, but somehow wants me to believe that this whole exile thing is part of the "plan" He has for me? That's difficult to swallow at best, absolutely ludicrous (as in Jeremiah is off his rocker) at worst. But it gets better...

When you back up and read the entire chapter, and interesting concept comes into view. As Jeremiah writes this to the captive Israelites, he tells them to do something that is utterly ridiculous. He tells them to suck it up and deal. In the face of their captivity, and with the knowledge that God is perfectly capable of delivering them, Jeremiah says to not hope for their deliverance, specifically he says “Build homes, and plan to stay. Plant gardens, and eat the food they produce.Marry and have children. Then find spouses for them so that you may have many grandchildren. Multiply! Do not dwindle away!" Really Jeremiah- multiply (insert Bebe's Kids reference)? Here's the problem with this whole thing- God SHOULD be setting his people free...right? I mean, we sang that old spiritual about going way down in Egypt land and you're telling me to stay? More than that, you're telling me to have GRANDKIDS?! This is a problem because (if I were the Israelites) I want out. I want to return to a land of milk and honey. I want fatted calfs and to worship my God in the place that I see fit, how I see fit to do it. But, instead, I'm being told to kick back and embrace my captive state. I'm essentially told to like it. So, the next question I find myself asking is why.

Jeremiah goes on to say in verse 7, "And work for the peace and prosperity of the city where I sent you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, for its welfare will determine your welfare." As if it weren't bad enough that they had to live in exile, now God is asking them to pray that their captors prosper and live at peace with their enemies- the same enemies who could (ostensibly) set the captive Israelites free if a war were to break out. This is part of God's plan? I would find that difficult to believe, but there it is plain as day in Jeremiah's letter... crap.

Now comes the part we all know too well:

10 This is what the Lord says: “You will be in Babylon for seventy years. But then I will come and do for you all the good things I have promised, and I will bring you home again. 11 For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. 12 In those days when you pray, I will listen. 13 If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me. 14 I will be found by you,” says the Lord. “I will end your captivity and restore your fortunes. I will gather you out of the nations where I sent you and will bring you home again to your own land.”

But notice something interesting, specifically the usage of the phrase "but then" in verse 10. It implies that God will only do for the Israelites all that comes after once all that comes before has been done. The usage of the conjunction (see here for more info) then denotes that the blessing spoken of in verse 11 can only happen if and when the captives are for their captors. Peace and God's purpose for the Israelites can only be found when Peace and God's purpose for their enemies is sought. So, this is what we're in for? With all the experience we have with God delivering those that came before us, we're supposed to sit back and take on the chin the fact that God won't be delivering us right now? We're supposed to accept that God will deliver, not our children, but our grandchildren, and that all of this captivity is for a reason? This too is a problem.

It's a problem because, like so many of us, I have prayed to be delivered from situations. I have earnestly sought the Lord, asking for His salvation from what I perceived as a "bad place" and believing that I had found myself in that place because of some enemy that God wanted to show Himself strong against. But what if that's not entirely the case? What if my being in the camp of my enemy is instead so that I can pray for their success? What if my purpose amongst those that would take my life is not to pray for their ruin, but for their good- to pray for their salvation instead of their damnation? What if God is "preparing a table in the presence of my enemies" (Psalm 23:5) not so I can show off and snub my nose, but rather so that I can show them the faithfulness of God that is available even to them, and in so doing expose them to His grace and love so that they can be changed. What if my captivity is a part of Him showcasing His divinity? What if the experience(s) I have in the place of my captivity is so that my expected end can be to show love to those that may not deserve it? What if that love changes the(ir) world?

My natural response would be "well crap- I wanted them to suffer and be taught a lesson" To that Jesus would reply, "I suffered enough, show grace." Ouch.

I've got more thoughts on Experience vs Expectation coming tomorrow (or whenever I remember to post again).

Pursue. Original.
-Damany

The Creativity in Captivity

2010-08-11T06:16:00.000-07:00

Still reading through Exodus- yes, I know it has been a super duper long time, but I keep getting sidetracked and taking my sweet time. Today found me in Exodus 37, where the story of the building of the tabernacle is continuing to be recounted. Every detail and measurement is meticulously accounted for, and the author writes in such a way that you can also hear the sound of the hammer striking and feel the heat of the fire as it purifies the gold. It really is an amazing lesson in details and beautiful story telling.

In a recent blog post, I wrote about Bezalel, the man selected by God to be the foreman over one of the most important building projects in history. This was a man who was the contractor of contractors, with skills ranging from carpentry, to metalworking, to upholstery and tile work. This guy knew his stuff and was skilled enough to be able to oversee a team of equally talented individuals who were experts in their individual fields. In verse 1, we see Bezalel working on the ark of the covenant and overlaying it with gold. A few verses later in chapter 38, we see him working on curtains and creating what I can only imagine were some of the most beautiful the world has ever seen. This guy seriously seemed to know any and everything about creating the perfect place for the Lord to dwell. He really seemed to be the right person for the job and there was nothing he couldn't do for the task he had been given. And then, in the midst of the stories about his skill a thought came to me...where did he learn all this?

Bezalel is a part of a group of refugees- recent nomads who have been displaced from a place and a culture that, though difficult to live in, was all they had known for the entirety of their lives, and the lives of their most readily memorable ancestors. It would be easy for us to forget that Bezalel didn't get his unquestionable skill from a class or from kind and caring instructors. No, Bezalel became excellent at his craft at the end of a spear, in the harsh and grueling sun, and with the stares of tyrannical "masters" boring into his back even as their whips dug into his skin. Bezalel learned his craft while in captivity.

Far too often, I find myself bemoaning my fate when difficult circumstances arise. I complain about how difficult things are, and regularly complain that I just can't seem to "break free" from whatever is keeping me from the next...something. But what if my perspective changed? As difficult as it might be, what if, instead of focusing on the captivity I found myself in, I focused on how God was going to be able to use the lessons learned and the skills developed in that captivity to establish a testimony for Himself that would outlast me and bring His name glory well after I'm gone? What if, the "trying of our faith that creates patience" is simply so that I don't give up in the midst of turmoil so that God can be made known and people's lives changed when I'm not around to tell the story? Is there a victorious day coming for every circumstance I face? Absolutely. But, when I find myself facing that difficulty, and feeling like I am in captivity, it is helpful to remember that in trial I am taught, and when captive I am better able to see the creative work of the Lord in even the smallest of things.

Be encouraged- this season of captivity for you is but a season where God can prove Himself in you, so that you can later show Him to the world.

Pursue. Original.
~Damany

It's His Deal

2010-07-07T07:23:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's been a while since I've written. I'd love to say I have a good reason...but I don't. Anywho, let's jump right in.

So, I have a new job. Yes, it is quite exciting and I am beyond happy/grateful/excited/other positive adjectives that describe extreme joy and a sense of mirth. This is one of the unique and rare once in a lifetime jobs that seems like it was created specifically for me. I couldn't have asked for a better company, a better crowd of coworkers, or a better opportunity to do what I love- all of what I love. In short, it's nothing short of a miracle, and I am extremely grateful to God for opening this door. But then the doubt set in.

As amazing as this job is, I can't help but finding myself feeling like I'm almost out of my depth. I mean, this seriously is perfect for me, but yet I still struggle with the idea that I can't do it. It's silly, I know, but nevertheless that's where I find myself, battling between destiny and doubt and not loving the constant tension. I know this is a God thing, but I still find myself doubting that I have what it takes to do it. I know that this doubt is kind of like the parable Jesus talks about in Matthew 13 with the tares and the wheat. The truth came to me, and this is just the enemy's attempt to choke the life out of the promise with doubts, worries, and concerns. I know that, but still I feel occasionally incapable of delivering what is expected of me. But then I remember, it's not my deal.

I've been reading through Exodus for a while now, and this morning I found myself in chapter 31. To be honest, I skipped past a few chapters that were talking about the construction of the washbasin, and the ephods. My eyes were starting to cross at all the attention to detail. The former part of chapter 31 talks about how God has specifically chosen a man to construct the various items of the tabernacle and the accouterments surrounding the tabernacle and has also specifically chosen his assistant. It actually says,

Then the Lord said to Moses,2 "Look, I have specifically chosen Bezalel son of Uri, grandson of Hur, of the tribe of Judah.3 I have filled him with the Spirit of God, giving him great wisdom, ability, and expertise in all kinds of crafts.4 He is a master craftsman, expert in working with gold, silver, and bronze.5 He is skilled in engraving and mounting gemstones and in carving wood. He is a master at every craft! 6 "And I have personally appointed Oholiab son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan, to be his assistant. Moreover, I have given special skill to all the gifted craftsmen so they can make all the things I have commanded you to make:

I wonder how freaked out Bezalel was when Moses came to him. Did the conversation go something like this?

M: "hey dude, I have a job for you"

B: "Yeah, what's up?"

M: "You're pretty well known for having some talent when it comes to building stuff, so there's a building project I need you and Oholiab to work on."

B: "Yeah, no problem, whatcha got?"

M: "Well, we're building a temple for God so we can worship Him while we're out here in the wilderness. It pretty much needs to be perfect and God gave me some exact dimensions and schematics to get it done. It's kind of a big deal and will be remembered for generations. You down? Oh yeah, and God specifically requested you."

B: (swallowing hard and with a panicked look on his face) "He did?"

M: "Yeah"

B: (stammering) "Um, Mo, I don't know if I can do this. I mean YHWH seriously requested me? That's kind of a big deal. I mean, I've just built some stuff as a slave in Egypt, not sure if building a home for the most high God is really in my skillset."

M: "Yeah, but God requested you, so...thanks I'll send you the plans tomorrow."

As silly as that seems to me now as I write it, if I'm honest, how different is my response to God in this? I know this is something to which God has called me, and yet I push back as if it is possible for me to fail so long as I stay submitted. It's His deal and I just have to accept the fact that He has given me the special skill necessary to make all the things He has commanded." It's not my skill that does it, it's merely a gift of skill that got loaned to me for a little bit. I'm just a steward, the responsibility to see it flourish is on the guy that owns the land. Sometimes I forget that.

God of the Moments

2010-04-17T09:37:00.000-07:00

I saw God last night.

Last night, I had an evening to myself- no shows, nothing to do, and basically just an opportunity to relax. I cooked dinner, read a book, and essentially had one of the most relaxing nights I have had in quite some time. In short- it was amazing. As I was waiting for the food that I was cooking to thaw, I decided to go for a walk. So, I grabbed Lola's (the dog) leash, and we set out for an exploration of the neighborhood. We had no agenda, no real time limit and no real way of knowing what was going to come of the night. I just knew it was a gorgeous night and I wanted to be a part of it.

I had never really taken a stroll through my neighborhood before. I'd gone on a few runs, but the houses and people whizzed by my eyes in a blurry and pain laden (I hate to run) medley of homogenized home ownership while I focused so intently on the task at hand- getting the run finished as quickly as possible. I had never taken the time to stroll and embrace the neighborhood that last night afforded me. It really is quite interesting the differences you see when you take the time to actually see. In the interests of being a cliche writer and poet, I saw beautiful colors on display in front yards, and heard dogs small and great barking at our passing. I saw quirky welcome mats and "He is Risen" signs, saw dinner being delivered and tables being set, saw children playing football, and families riding bikes. I saw life happening- and it was there that I saw God.

I had an interesting conversation with a friend of mine last night. They were caught in a place we all find ourselves far too often, a place of frustration. This friend knows that there is a plan and a purpose for her life, but is frustratingly trying to sort out just what that plan and purpose is. All the familiar questions get asked- "where am I going," "what do these gifts mean," "am I making the right decisions," and on and on they go. Ultimately though, these questions can be boiled down to one question- "do YOU really have a plan that I'm a part of, and why can't I know what it is?" My friend was facing a crisis, not of faith, but of trust. They didn't know how to express their lack of trust and would never admit to it, being from a strong Christian family, but nevertheless there it stood, staring them in the face like the blinking "do not walk" signs I confronted on my journey through my neighborhood. And in that, my friend was missing God, the God I was able to see last night.

I'm talking about the God of the moments. The God I saw was the one who finds himself glorified on balmy spring nights where the wind carries the fragrance of grill smoke and cut grass, and the air holds the melodies of laughter and memories made. The God I saw was the one who takes great pleasure in fathers making last minute grocery store runs while mothers and children set the table, takes immense joy in large glasses of wine raised in celebration of stories told that bring people closer together, and whose praises are heard as children discover the joy of a lawn beneath their feet. This God I am speaking about is the one who bids us to enjoy the moments that make up our dream, and not become so focused on "finishing the run" that we lose sight on the neighbors and conversations, the laughter and sweet fragrances, the aromas and sounds that make every moment through which we pass rich with the very presence of God.

Yes, there is something to which we are called. Yes, we have unique giftings and abilities which will enable us to be a part of a dynamic story that's been unfolding over time. Yes there will always be a frustration that comes from not fully knowing now what our then will consist of. But, I must learn, as my friend must as well, that my life is not comprised of a series of days strung together in the direction of a purpose, but as I heard someone say, a series of todays, each with their own purposes and victories and each with their own stories. It is so easy to focus on how the larger story unfolds, and to think that this chapter in our lives is but that- a chapter. But what if this is more than a chapter? What if this is a story unto itself? What if embracing and wholly being a part of this moment is in fact a telling of a tale that would make even Aesop take note? And what if, in the telling of and living in our story, we were able to see God as He wants to be seen right now, in this moment?

"Seek the Lord while you can find him.
Call on him now while he is near."
-Isaiah 55:6 (NLT)

Shadows and light

2010-04-06T06:48:00.001-07:00

Last night, my girlfriend looked at me, pierced through me and spoke straight to my heart. In ways that challenged and chastised me, she spoke out of a love that only comes from a relationship with Christ and an ability to hear His voice. It was both scary and amazing. Scary because it again proves that God can absolutely use whomever he wants to speak truth whenever he wants, and amazing because it shows a love that is completely incomprehensible. Her expression of love got me thinking about how Christ continually manifests himself in my life.

The past few weeks have been exceptionally rough for me, and I have been fighting through varying waves of depression. Now, don't worry, nothing drastic is on the horizon for me as far as my response to this sense of depression, but it's definitely been there, hovering just above me and keeping me from being wholly effective in much of anything that I do. So, as I always have done in the past, I sought escapes from the reality of the dark life I felt I was experiencing. I sought alternative realities to the one I was living daily, knowing these were false hopes, but wanting, needing, the escape, even if just for an hour or two. As it always does, it proved unfruitful and only served to drive a wedge between God and I as I was running away from Him as opposed to heading towards Him.

Throughout the course of this time, God has again and again reached out His hand through His people to speak life to me, and in the most unlikely of ways. A friend with whom I seldom talk about the issues of my life called me out of the blue to speak a very specific prophetic word to me about my situation, good friends call and text for no reason, messages at church are seemingly targeted directly towards me, and on and on the list goes- God is after my heart and if I am able to step back for a moment, I see how beautiful that pursuit is. I see how masterfully God is orchestrating encounter after encounter so that I will know that I am not alone. I see how seemingly meaningless words suddenly take on a level of comfort that they otherwise would not have had. I see how love is being proved tangible in my life. Though this is one of my "dark nights of the soul," I still see how God is very evidently at work in everything, not in the way that things are necessarily and immediately getting better, but in the way that in the midst of the night God is there as a guiding light. It's like Psalm 119 says, that Jesus "is a lamp to guide my feet and a light for my path." It's not that the sky is suddenly illumined and all vestiges of darkness flee, but rather that, in the midst of the darkness, in the midst of that which would cause me to stumble, fall, and feel pain, God is there ensuring that I have just enough light to not give up, just enough to know that there is a hope of further light because of the glimmer that I now see.

My brother recently said something extremely profound to me. In talking about Psalm 23, he commented on the passage in verse 4 where the psalmist writes that even in the valley of the shadow of death, he will not be afraid. Anyone that has been involved in Christianity for any length of time has undoubtedly heard this scripture, and what is all too often focused on is that death is nothing to be afraid of because the overarching theme is that God's got your back. But I think there's another underlying message in that scripture- that of the shadow. Dictionary.com defines shadow as "a dark figure or image cast on the ground or some surface by a body intercepting light." And in that is God's bigger promise in the passage. This shadow of death can only exist because death, in all its powerlessness can only show itself evident in this valley because it has intercepted light. John 9:5 says that Christ is the "light of the world," so any shade of darkness, any shadow, can only exist because He allows it. Shadows are only places where the light is not yet bright enough to fully dispel the darkness- so it is true of my life. These shadows that sometimes seem so frightening because I feel as if I am living in them, are really nothing more than harbingers of Christ not yet fully revealed in a situation in my life. God's constant responses in love through friends, and sermons, sunrises and scripture are His attempts to remind me that the light in whatever area of my life seems darkest is more than just on its way, it is already there and providing hope of a brighter day when shadows cease and light dawns full upon my heart. The dark night of the soul is indicative of, not an end, but rather a beginning that has yet to, and is in the process of emerging.

Yeah, this is how I process- I write. Thanks for walking through the journey with me and for always listening to and reading the musings of a man who continues to wrestle with grace and purpose.

image sourced from fineartamerica.com

Cement or Snow?

2010-01-10T11:22:00.001-08:00

So, I went to California for Christmas and it was warm. By warm I mean that it was 75 degrees on Christmas day and we barbecued outside for our Christmas dinner. Ironically enough, it snowed in Dallas. For the first time in like 11 years, there was a white Christmas in the place that I now call my home. At first I thought that it was Texas' version of snow, a misty white liquid that lands on the ground and stays for a whopping 3-4 hours before being whisked away in the light of the sun. But, as I understand it, it was the real deal- snow drifts, shovels, the whole bit. To be honest, I am a little disappointed that I missed it- but it did get me thinking.

People all across the city traipsed through the snow, leaving footprints where their shoes had once been, and within a few short days, the impact that their feet had made on the surrounding area was completely erased. It was as if they had never been there. They had fun, throwing snowballs at each other, diving headfirst into man-made mountains of snow only to have any proof of their snowy existence washed away in the rising heat that Texas was sure to bring back to the scene. And I wondered, for how many of us, myself included, is this indicative of our lives? How many of us go through life leaving footprints we are sure will count for something, only to have difficulty, heat, and tough times wash them away as time progresses? I wonder if the impact that I've been hoping to make is actually being made in a medium that will not count past the pictures I take and stories I am able to tell about "this one time..."

To be honest, it reminds me of the story in Matthew where Jesus likens those who listen to His words and don't put them to practice to those who build their house on sand, and those who do listen and put to practice the things Jesus says to those who build on stone. As the story says, waters crash against the house, and depending on its foundation, the house either stands or collapses. Now, I am sure that the builder of the house wanted his creation to stand as a bastion of architectural success for generations to look upon and be impressed (and yes, this is all extrapolation), and wanted his story to count for something. While I am sure he wanted this to be the case, he chose to build on a location that was not fit to stand against the onslaught of what life and nature would throw at it. And so...it didn't stand. Is the same true of our impact on this life, our footprint?

Are we making tracks in the snow, only to have them washed away when waters come and the temperature rises? Are we seemingly building monuments for ourselves (and ostensibly for God) that won't last past the next rainfall that inevitably comes to all men (and women) in life? Are we doing anything that matters, or simply making tracks so we can take snapshots, look back on our lives and say we remember what it was like to make an impact, all the while wondering if any actual impact was made.

Conversely, cement is that which takes the footprint that you have made and keeps it for all eternity. As the heat comes, instead of melting or buckling under the pressure, it actually solidifies and creates something to look back upon and hold up for the world to see that your impact is more than just in story, but in reality before them. It points to a real experience that people can point to and say, "look what God has done." When the waters come, the cement stays because the impact made is without question.

So, in 2010, as we all push to be different, I find myself asking, "is my footprint built in snow or cement?" What would happen if you asked the same question?

Image sourced from here

The Miracle on the Way

2009-12-14T07:42:00.000-08:00

Matthew 9 is an interesting chapter. Jesus is finally home, amongst his people and in his own city. One would think that it would be a joyous return, a triumphal entry of sorts of the son that has gone off and done great things in the world (as they knew it), and has now come back for a time to be amongst His people. But, as far too many of us know, returning home to accomplish things is often exponentially more difficult than attempting to do things elsewhere. It seems as if nothing He does is good enough, and whether He sits with sinners or saints, He is destined to face ridicule for it. It almost seems like this is the type of environment where you pack up and tell everyone, "forget it, I can do nothing for you people." But Jesus didn't. He stayed, and faced further scrutiny, perhaps in the hope that people would get the point, or perhaps to point out a critical lesson to us.

Verse 18 starts the story of the ruler who comes to Jesus and asks that He come to his house to heal his daughter. Without hesitation Jesus gets up, His disciples in tow, and heads to this man's house. One would argue that the reason such haste was taken was because of this man's stature. That he was a man of prominence that Jesus respected as a former resident of this town, but there really isn't enough there to speculate about that (even though I just did). Either way, he isn't the point of this post. What happens next is.

As Jesus is on His way to this ruler's house, a woman sneaks up behind him and says to herself that, essentially, this is her last hope. She has been struggling with a medical condition for over a decade, and as one can imagine, is about to give up hope. This is it for her and she clearly has put a lot of stock in this man from her home town who seems to have the power to heal, and as we saw earlier- save. So, pushing through the crowd, she reaches out her hand, risking ridicule, and possible pain for the chance to just touch Him. Verse 20 says it like this: "And behold, a woman who had suffered from a discharge of blood for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his garment." The fringe. The very edge of His garment. She could get no closer than to touch the tips of the outer edge of His clothes. Whether it be because the crowd was too deep, or her shame too great, she couldn't or wouldn't get any closer. She believed in Christ's power to save and heal, but couldn't bring herself to, as so many others had done, push through face Him. She was content to, for whatever reason, stay on the outskirts of Christ's reality and that be enough for her.

Let's start there. For how many of us is this true? How many of us are so ashamed of our pasts that we dare not push into where Christ can see us face to face, and we see Him in all his glory, for fear of what our past and our histories will show about us? How many of us sit and reach for the fringes because the forefront of His love is (in our minds) too terrifying and embarrassing? Surely our issue is so big that it occludes His willingness to reach out His hand. Or surely we would face too much ridicule to allow the possibility of total healing to be completely worth it. But, if this woman is any indication- even on the fringes Christ is aware of our struggles, and pushing past our insecurities and our seeming inadequacies, he pulls us full into view of His face and tells us we're whole. Jesus stopped and looked at the woman. He acknowledged her in full view of everyone and told her that she was "made well."

That brings me to the second point- Jesus' acknowledgment. Jesus was on the way to the house of an important man in His hometown. As stated earlier, it is presumable that this was a man everyone knew and there was some haste in making the way to this home. But He stopped. In the midst of His rush to aid this man of stature and prominence, He took the time to reach out to someone of absolutely no importance and elevate her to a place where everyone could see and acknowledge her. In the midst of pushing towards a miracle that would elevate His ministry, He stopped to speak life and grace to a woman who could do nothing more than stand on the outskirts hoping for a miracle in passing. This was a woman who wasn't bold enough to push to the front of the line. A woman who knew that the man she was reaching out to was important and about important things, and was headed to the house of another important person. This was a woman who saw her place in the world as being at the back of the line with no hope of pushing forward. But God saw her, felt her need and healed her pain. God stopped, stooped down, picked her up and changed her life. But would I?

Would I stop moving forward in the pursuit of my dream or vision to stoop down and help? Would I reach out my hand to someone that could do nothing for me save offer thanks? Would I stop the pursuit of the important to embrace the hurting, or would I be too busy? Would I be so consumed with looking forward that I would ignore the gentle tugging at my heart that bid me look down? Where would my eyes be fixed? Would I look ahead, blind and oblivious to all the hurt around me, or would I find my eyes looking where Jesus did. If prominence set before me, would I be focused on it or the poverty surrounding me?

I saw a man in the cold today and it hurt my heart. He stood on the corner of a major intersection asking for help from strangers. Sure, he may have been gaming the system, he may have been a drug addict, and he may have been lazy and unwilling to get a job. But he may not have been. I could have kept driving and ignored him, my car heater buzzing with a warmth that he would not get to experience. But I didn't. I stopped and looked for a blanket, and finding none, I offered him what little I did have- change from a cup holder. He looked at me and in earnest said, "Thank you sir. My name is David, please keep me in your prayers. What's your name?" Damany. "Damany, you'll be in my prayers tonight as well. God bless." And that day He did. That day, God stooped down and ministered to the lowliest of those who were blind to their situation and undeserving of grace. That day, the prayers of a man were answered and God saved and healed. That day, God answered David's prayers...for me, and I am made better for David stopping, leaning down and ministering grace.

You can't save all, but you can fight to save one. Where's your fight today?

The light that dawned

2009-11-16T08:24:00.000-08:00

I used to be homeless. Well, perhaps homeless is a bit of a misnomer; it's more accurate to say I was severely displaced. I am not like the scores of individuals who have found themselves living on the streets due to unforeseen eventualities in their lives. No, I was fortunate enough to have amazing friends who came out of the veritable woodwork to ensure that I had a place to sleep, a meal to eat and a shoulder to lean or cry on as necessary. I have had amazing friends, and they are too numerous to mention, but I will attempt a few. Ben, Ryan, Brad, Nate, Trae, Mr. B, Rocky, Chad, Aisha, Erica, Russell, Stacy, Rennie, Devon, Mommie, Sais, Imani- thank you for not giving up on me and for supporting me even when I didn't deserve it. I am humbled by you.

A year and a half ago I found myself unemployed, living in a new city because God told me so and having no idea what I was going to do with my life. I had some money saved, but that was rapidly dwindling, and I had no clue how I was going to get more. I picked up odd jobs, worked at a restaurant and most days found myself spending hours at the library attempting to find a job- any job- that would get me out of the hole I found myself in. To say that I was at my lowest point would be an understatement. To make up for, or rather cover up my sense of inadequacy, I did what I could to self-medicate. I drank, I slept, I cried, I tried desperately to hook up with anyone I could, believing that even if I was only happy or satisfied for a moment, it was better than not at all. Needless to say it didn't work and I found myself more depressed and despondent than when I first began. And then a ray of almost unnoticed light dawned.

Randomly answering an ad on Craigslist for an "event assistant," I found myself sitting in a decently apportioned, albeit small, office in southwest Dallas. I brought my resume, though it was never requested and before I knew it, I was hired. To be honest I really didn't know for what I had been hired, but I somehow knew that it was right. And now, here I sit over a year later as the Director of Impressions and Experiences of that same (or a newer sexier version) company. And I am humbled.

I am humbled to think that somehow my story is still being written, regardless of how hard I seemingly try to f it up. I am humbled to think that there is a God who so intimately knows me that He has been orchestrating seemingly innocuous things to come together for my good and His glory. It is humbling to know that no matter how far I seem to run, the hand of God is always there ready to catch me when I fall, even to my lowest point. I am overwhelmed to the point of tears to think that God, being so rich in mercy, has given to me such wonderful gifts as amazing friends, a family that refuses to turn their back on me, and a girlfriend who is in every way an expression of meritless grace and love. I don't deserve any of it and no matter how hard I try to earn it, try to be good enough for it, I am continually reminded that no, I am not good enough, but God is great. I am a work unfinished and a wretch undone, but God is a savior of all who call upon His name and is ever ready to answer, even if the way He answers is not what we expect. I, quite literally, was lost and, though I am not yet fully found, I am a lot closer to that point than I was yesterday and definitely last year. I can not begin to fathom this love and am unashamed to talk of the hand that reached into shit to pull me out. I am in no way trepidous to tell of the God who saw darkness surrounding me and rushed headlong into it to pull me out into a marvelous light of which I am still in awe. This light that has erased my past, not so that I might forget, but so that I might always remember who it was that brought me out and in so doing, point others out of darkness towards the Son.

The Great Equalizer?

2009-10-02T07:53:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been hearing a lot about friends who are overwhelmed with everything going on around them. To be quite frank, I am also in that same boat on a number of different fronts. Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of this seeming overwhelmed state is the fact that it seems like in these times of too much stuff going on, and too many responsibilities being expected of us, people are still pulling on you, and still asking you to speak into their lives, offer them counsel and be a good friend. I mean the nerve! Don't they see that I need some alone time?! I'm mostly joking, but the truth is that it's difficult. And of course, it never fails that in moments when selfishness like what I just described pops up, I stumble across some scripture that both encourages and challenges me in a major way about that very thing. So it was for me today.

This morning, I was reading through Matthew, and more specifically Matthew 14. In verse 13, Jesus has just learned about the death of his cousin John (or John the Baptist to those Bible story readers amongst us). Understandably upset and probably a little distraught by the news, Jesus pulls away to be by Himself. Now, it would be spiritual and "Jesus-like" to presume that He pulled away to pray, but I would venture to believe that part of that pulling away was His human side. The side that grieves and knew that John was killed because of what both of them stood for. Jesus was (probably) sad and needed some time to think, process and be human when confronted with the loss of someone He loved. But the crowds would have none of it.

Let's for a second ignore the question of how the crowd knew where to find Jesus and just acknowledge that they did. Here Jesus was, hurt, wounded, and knowing on a number of levels that it was only a matter of time before a similar fate came to Him, and what does the Bible say of Him when He saw the people? "He had compassion on them and healed their sick." So moved was Christ by the plight of those around Him, that even at the expense of His time to grieve, He reached out to them so that they could be whole. It's easy to think that this represents the great lesson in this passage, but I would venture to say that there is still a greater one waiting in the wings.

Verse 16 starts the recounting of the feeding of the 5000+ who had gathered to hear Jesus speak or have their lives changed by an encounter with Him. So, somehow out of the midst of His pain, Jesus was able to not only have compassion on people to heal, but also to perform what is chronicled as one of the greatest miracles in Biblical history? Is it possible that our weaknesses, our sorrows, our pains and our difficulties are fertile ground for God to do mightier miracles than if we were 100% complete? Is it possible that one of the reasons that we endure hardships and persevere, all while being called upon to minister to those around us is because God is showing us that in those moments we know that we have need of something outside of ourselves? One of Jesus' most talked about miracles happened when He was in despair and still had compassion. What is God wanting to do in our lives and the lives of others through us if we would trust Him to use our sorrow as a place where miracles grow and God's power is seen? Is it possible that sorrow and difficulty are the great equalizers because God reminds us that there is little we have to operate from apart from Him?

I'm not sure what this looks like in daily application, but I encourage your thoughts and ask, where has God ministered to others in your life when you found yourself weakened?

Live Passionately. Pursue. Original.

Above the Noise Find Joy

2009-08-26T19:39:00.001-07:00

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of traveling home to NY and working with my sister, Imani as she produced and managed a concert in the middle of downtown Manhattan. To say that it was an amazing time would be to do it an injustice. It was absolutely epic. So much happened on that trip that I haven't really had a chance to process, but I know that I am forever changed by the experience. Many thanks to Imani and the whole crew that helped pull it together.

But this isn't what this particular post is about. It's about the journey to get to New York.

My flight left ridiculously early from DFW and when I arrived to the airport, beleaguered and bleary eyed, I joined the throngs of people snaking their way through what was an unusually long line in security for such an early morning. After making it through the mildly humiliating experience that is TSA, I found myself with about a half hour to kill before my flight. I walked rather leisurely towards my gate after stopping to get an overpriced breakfast bagel from somewhere that wasn't nearly worth the price. As I continued the walk to the gate, I noticed a guy off in one of the full service restaurants that wasn't open yet. He was Jewish. Now that may seem as if it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of the story, but trust me- it does. As I continued to walk, I noticed that he was preparing for his morning prayers. He had his yarmulke, his Tzitzit, his tallit, and all of the other elements that clearly identify him as a member of his faith. He knelt down for prayer, completely oblivious of those around him and completely lost in his devotion. To be honest, I thought little of it and kept walking.

A little ways down was another slightly abandoned restaurant, and there, yet again, was a gentleman performing the same ritual I had just seen a few doors down. These two guys had probably never met, but here they were in one of the busiest airports in the world, united by a faith in a God who required their obedience- and obey they did. Neither of these two cared a lick about the fact that I was watching them. Neither of them noticed my slightly awestruck and dumbfounded gazes in their direction, and neither cared even a little bit about whether or not I approved of their actions. They were lost in reverential worship and devotion to their God and my presence there mattered about as much to them and their devotion as the fly that perched itself on the wall next to me.

All of their devotion got me to thinking- am I that devoted? Do I care as little for what people think of me as they do- to the point that I will carry out my devotion with little to no regard for how I may be viewed by those around me? Am I concerned more about what my God requires and asks of me than what my peers approve of for me that I will follow him at the expense of social acceptance? Or am I such a slave to culture that I care more about what the created thinks than I do the one who is the creator and gave them the capacity to think to begin with? To be honest, this isn't one of those pondering and deeply introspective posts. The answer is abundantly and shamingly clear...I care more about you.

I care what you think. I am concerned with your opinions of me. I hide my faith behind clever witticisms and attempts to be accepted. I say I love Christ but my willingness to talk about Him leaves that highly doubtful. They say that you talk about those you love- and Him, I don't. Why? Because you are apparently of greater importance to me than the savior of my soul and of greater value than the greatest treasure. More than that, I care so little for your life that I am willing to let you live a life that is empty and devoid of meaning, as you pursue things that fade as life passes and decay with time. I laugh at your jokes about lifestyles that leave you waking up empty, searching desperately for the next thing to fill the hole. I console you as you tell me of one empty relationship that ended as we both knew it would, but don't counsel you to stay away when the next one presents itself. More than that, I have been with you in those stories. I have sat by you and joined in the emptiness, waking up knowing there is more and knowing what that more is. I have pursued the fleeting in lieu of the fantastic and made you to believe that this is all there is. But there's more, and I've always known it- even if I've never told you.

In the end, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being weak and failing to speak up where voices could be heard above the din of life's cacophony. I am sorry for not being a friend enough to say that there's more and to offer you the opportunity to drink deeply from a limitless well that won't leave you empty as dreams litter your floor like the bottles we've discarded. I want to be better, and so I'll try. Please forgive my bumbling attempts to speak to you of life, and know that this isn't about judgment, but rather life offered freely. This is not about pleasure suppressed, but rather joy revealed. Let us pursue it together. Let's start now.

Pursue. Original.

At this moment

2009-07-13T00:42:00.001-07:00

At this moment, lives are being destroyed and I don't care.

As I sit comfortably encased in my air conditioned haven, the lives of
those I've not yet and may never meet are being ripped apart by an
evil I've not been willing to confront. On the other side of the
world, and the other side of the city live those for whom my "basics"
are luxuries. As I sit furiously typing away on a device no bigger
than my hand, the heart of a savior is broken as he watches those for
whom he died destroyed by those who would choose to play god. And I
sit and do nothing.

As I ponder deeply and pontificate endlessly about that which must
change, there are those who slowly descend into the reality and the
knowledge that change, for them, will never come; and as my eyes blur
with the tears of pains for that which I've never experienced while my
heart breaks for someone I've yet to meet I realize- I don't care. I
mean clearly that's true. How else would it be possible to continue
daily in this knowledge and not seek change? How else could I rail
against the sub-luxury standards of my life while others live in the
sub-human conditions of theirs? How could I stand (ok, lay) here and
not be moved by what I know about this moment?

I don't know what any of this means beyond a broken heart, but I at
least know that much. I know that living in a world fractured by sin
is the reason the fight exists, but I also know that the fight can
only be won if we engage beyond our phosphourescent screens and lofty
ideals. Life only comes when you are willing to run into the midst of
death and say that enough is enough; when you are willing to stand
between the living and the dead and speak life. I've never been one
for missions. I don't know why. Perhaps some innate sense of
northeastern American entitlement left me believing that it wasn't my
job. But now I ask, "why not?" Why can't I be the one who decides that
for the 2, 5, 20, or 1,000 I can reach and change I will? Is all I do
the answer? No. But I, when choosing to engage, am part of a solution
that needs me. If we are the hands and feet of God and change, what
happens if I refuse to do my job? What happens if I don't bring my
gifts to the table and ask for them to be used? What happens if I do
nothing.

Better yet, what happens if I start right now?

--
Sent from my mobile device

Pursue. Original.
-Damany

Money Matters...

2009-05-26T06:24:00.000-07:00

One of my biggest struggles throughout the course of my life has been in the area of finances. Namely in my ability to control my own. I could come up with all sorts of excuses or reasons that have led me to my current financial state, but the reality is that I have just never really tried to get a handle on my finances. I have always lived (at least partially) in the mentality that, if I worked hard enough, I would become rich and then money wouldn't be an issue. Is that a silly way of looking at things? Absolutely, but it's nevertheless true.

Several people, including one ex-girlfriend, have prompted me over the years to get help in this area, but I was stubborn and committed to figuring it out myself. The irony is that I knew all along that I wasn't going to get it on my own, considering that no other area of struggle in my life has ever been conquered by myself, but nevertheless I plodded along...and ended up in further trouble than I had previously found myself. Now, don't get me wrong, there have been some strides, but by and large I find myself today in the same place I was years ago, with no discipline or direction in the area of financial accountability. This morning I finally decided to do something about it. I called someone I have never met to ask them to help with one of the more personal (and embarrassment inducing) areas of my life.

Crown Financial is a Christian organization designed to help people get a handle on their finances and set up a financial accountability structure within which they can operate and thrive. I was told about it once by an ex of mine, but I never called, never researched, never did anything with the information really. I just continued to wallow in the same level of financial inadequacy that I had for quite some time...until today. I finally called the financial counselor that the organization had recommended to me, and let me tell you- it was about as difficult as anything I've ever done. It was as difficult as starting step studies and getting into recovery at church, as hard as admitting to a group of guys that I struggle with things, as gut-wrenching as being willing to be open and honest and engage community. This was difficult. But I believe it will be good. I have no idea yet what this process will look like, only that it too is a part of the development that I am undergoing in an ever increasing desire to be complete. It is a part of the process of living with unveiled face and reflecting the glory of God to the world, and of being the fragrance of God in the Earth. This next step for me is as important as any I've previously undertaken and I am looking forward to it, even if the process frightens me just a bit.

There's a Heaviness...

2009-04-21T09:33:00.000-07:00

I'm currently sitting in a hotel room in Waycross, GA, where I've been for the past several days working audio at an evangelistic crusade for Rick Gage Ministries. It's been interesting to say the least. Between the rain lat night in the middle of the message/altar call, the KFC offering buckets, and climbing 25 ft up in the air everyday and risking life and limb for the sake of a stupid chain, I have a list of stories that will last me well into the next year. But a retelling of my experiences is not the point of this post.

As I have been here, I can not shake this overarching heaviness that is weighing on my heart. Beyond that, I can not figure out its source. I spoke with a friend of mine today about a similar situation and encouraged her to pray and ask God what was trying to be said, and what lesson was being conveyed in the form of this weight. Perhaps this is my way of doing that. Maybe this is my prayer to God. Or maybe it's just the ramblings of a frustrated 27 year old stuck in rural Georgia. Either way, things need to break, change, or let up. Some clarity needs to reveal itself soon, and some new horizon needs to dawn soon. So, yeah...what's this heaviness God? Put me on and free me from this introspective prison.

Add to that the feeling of loneliness that I have been experiencing of late. Most know that there was a recent breakup in my past. For the most part, I have purposely chosen to remain silent about it, save to a few close friends. But, it's been difficult. It's been difficult to walk through life (albeit relatively briefly) with someone you had allowed in so close, only to have it all wrest from your grasp so suddenly. The irony is that, even in that, I know it was all good and right for me. All of it- the meeting of this amazing woman, the dating, even the break up. All of it was good and a part of the further development and healing of my soul and mind. But that doesn't make it any less difficult. Seeing how God used all of it to heal me of wounds so deep that their denial was denied does not make the reality of the situations any less potent. Nor does seeing how I am in a much healthier place internally with a much better sense of self (my true self) make the feeling of loneliness any less real.

I'm not sure that this is going to be one of those posts that ends in resolution. I think this might just be one of those laments we find in the Psalms, where David just bitches and moans and shakes his fists frustratedly in the air. Yeah, pretty sure this is one of those moments. I'm frustrated, heavy, and lonely.

But God is still God, and that counts for something.

I guess it did resolve after all.

The Monday (okay Tuesday) After Easter

2009-04-14T08:16:00.000-07:00

This is a repost from a friend of mine who is a pastor at Sanctuary Church in Tulsa, OK. I would say enjoy, but if you're like me, it will be more challenging than enjoyable...

Early on in the second volume of Luke-Acts, Luke records an early clash between the nascent church and the ruling elite of Jerusalem over the healing of a lame man who used to beg at the Temple:

"18Then they (the Sanhedrin) called them in again and commanded them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus. 19But Peter and John replied, 'Judge for yourselves whether it is right in God's sight to obey you rather than God. 20For we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.'

21After further threats they let them go. They could not decide how to punish them, because all the people were praising God for what had happened. 22For the man who was miraculously healed was over forty years old.

23On their release, Peter and John went back to their own people and reported all that the chief priests and elders had said to them. 24When they heard this, they raised their voices together in prayer to God. 'Sovereign Lord,' they said, 'you made the heaven and the earth and the sea, and everything in them. 25You spoke by the Holy Spirit through the mouth of your servant, our father David:

'Why do the nations rage
and the peoples plot in vain?
26The kings of the earth take their stand
and the rulers gather together
against the Lord
and against his Messiah.'

27Indeed Herod and Pontius Pilate met together with the Gentiles and the people of Israel in this city to conspire against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed. 28They did what your power and will had decided beforehand should happen. 29Now, Lord, consider their threats and enable your servants to speak your word with great boldness. 30Stretch out your hand to heal and perform miraculous signs and wonders through the name of your holy servant Jesus.' "

It was not long into the career of the early church that the confession and resultant way of life that issued from that confession (God raised Jesus, the one you killed, which means that a universal change of regime is underway) put the church at odds with the world (in this case, Jerusalem). Luke is quite explicit on this point. In Acts 2, the people of Jerusalem perceive the early church as an oddity. By Acts 3 they are perceived as an undeniable threat to establishment power. Something about the confession that God raised Jesus from the dead disturbed the regnant powers-that-be. That this antipathy should be understood not just a one-off historical irregularity but as the inevitable state of affairs between that group of people that confesses the Crucified One as the Living Lord and those who feel their claims to power slipping away at His displacing rule is confirmed by Luke's use of Psalm 2 as paradigmatic for the church's life in a hostile world - God reigns through his Messiah, that is, Jesus; and at this reality every other claimant to power writhes and rages. For his reign disturbs and threatens.

Christ is risen, the church declared yesterday.
He is risen indeed.

But the world knows this not. And even our very lives have yet to be redefined by the judging and saving word that the empty tomb represents. I wonder whether we're prepared to face the terror of a living Lord who reigns in and through and over our times, provoking us to newness even as he brings the present regime(s) to an end. I wonder whether we're prepared to lock eyes with the one whose fidelity exposes us even as it overcomes our own hatred of him. I wonder if we're prepared to accept the shape of the kingdom whose King calls us to new and dangerous expressions of neighborliness, mercy, justice, and community.

Christ is risen.
But are we ready for it?

I think that we are probably a lot less like the Spirit-imbued apostolic community and a lot more like the women in Mark who first encounter the empty tomb, who left in fear and silence, "trembling and bewildered" (surely this is Mark's way of provoking his own community to acknowledge their ongoing failure to embody the Resurrection reality in the world). We just aren't sure what we would do with a living Christ, or where we would put him, or how he fits in our safe little suburban ghettos, so we relegate him to the mystical and dare not talk about the material. I wonder, does the Risen one have anything substantial to say to whether or not a Christian should drive a Hummer or live in a million dollar home? Perhaps we are not ready to ask questions like that, but I think we should be honest about the fact that Resurrection is a trifle, a fairytale, a fable, a myth if we cannot ask questions like that ... if his world-subverting rule cannot call the shape of our taken-for-granted realities into question.

No, I think it would be too generous to suggest that we are like the women at the tomb in Mark 16. Rather I think it more accurate to suggest that we are like the conspirators in Matthew who sought to change the story to protect their vested interests. A risen Christ is far too troubling, too dangerous, too disturbing. Better to modify the details and mute the implications to protect the world we've erected unto ourselves than to wonder whether or not Resurrection might have something to say to, for instance, the racism and fear of the "other" that while unacknowledged still is undeniably encoded into the structures of most of our lives.

I'm just wondering this morning, the Monday after Easter, whether or not Resurrection means anything, or if it's just an empty cipher that provides us all with a sense of transcendence? I'm wondering why the populace is not threatened every year as the church makes her annual return to Golgotha and then, to the empty tomb?

Is it possible, I'm wondering...
IS IT POSSIBLE

that it's because we've turned Resurrection into an empty idea, into a Precious Moments illusion that makes us feel nice and warm inside all the while failing to provide an impetus or rationale for questioning, for example, whether a society that is sustained by a cultural ethos based on shopping can ever claim moral leadership in world affairs.

I'm just wondering.

Just wondering why Resurrection is not perceived as dangerous. Why the church's yearly return to the primal confession doesn't cause the powers to tremble...

Maybe, I'm wondering, we're missing something.

Seems to me that the news of Resurrection puts Christians in the Bible in an automatically awkward position. There are times of peace and quiet, to be sure, but more often than not wherever the news that "God raised Jesus from the dead" is announced in its thick, deep, salvation-historical, Hebraic, messianic, sociopolitical sense, Christians start dying or, at the very least, getting the living daylights beat out of them. It's arguable, I suppose, that the more morally robust a society is, the more capable it is of hearing the truth, but I hardly think that our culture is just so morally stout as to be capable of hearing the news about Resurrection and not panic... I think rather that the error lies on the side of an accomodationist Western church that knows how to say but not how to live "Jesus is Lord"; that is to say, "Caesar is NOT."

Or better yet...

Democracy is NOT
Capitalism is NOT
Consumerism is NOT
Nationalism is NOT
Militarism is NOT
America (and every other self-secured nation in the West) is NOT

For all these "powers" fall under the theological rubric provided by Psalm 2 and as such must too bend the knee to this Living Lord who judges and saves, and woe betide us if we become so safe in bed with our culture at large that we fail to maintain the theological (that is to say, prophetic) distance necessary to call these idolatrous powers into question; to be able to say, "This far you come and no further."

Christ is risen.
But are we ready for it?
Do we believe it?

It in a consumeristic, militaristic, nationalistic, narcissistic, hedonistic dogmatically pluralistic societal ethos, one wonders how Easter Sunday is still one of the most well-attended church services of the year. One might expect crowds to stay away in droves on this, the most dangerous day of the church calendar, and to attend instead during those ordinary seasons when we teach people how to be nice and have success in their careers (read: fit in in Western civilization).

This morning I am thinking that the gospel is not nice. It is not safe. And neither is the One it proclaims.

But it, and He, to quote C. S. Lewis, is good. With a goodness that so surpasses our perception of "the good" that it ought to disturb and terrify us. That it doesn't, that Monday after Easter Sunday can come and nothing is different, is an indication at least to me that the church in the West is sick, and probably dying, for we've lost the nerve to name the Name in all it's disturbing otherness, and so to challenge...

every rival Lord,
every rival politics,
every rival economics,
and every rival ethics,

that refuses to acknowledge the Resurrected one as Lord of all.

God help us.

Even Unto Death...?

2009-04-02T13:26:00.001-07:00

There I was, standing and looking out over the Pacific Ocean in San Diego. In my ears played the refrain of a song off of ORU Music Ministries' album, "Until the Whole World Knows." While I enjoy most of the album, the one song that seemed to stick to me is one called "Persecution." Dark I know, right-but it's awesome. The basic premise of the song is that true worship and purification happen through the trials that we face and our willingness to walk through them and still sing out praises to our God. We eventually will join with the elders (that's for you Kelbert) and the scores of saints that have gone before in singing that our God is holy and is worthy of all praise. It's a haunting reminder that this life is not all that there is, and that our ultimate goal, our chief aim, is to bring about the praise and glory of our Lord.

Then I started thinking, what about those elders who have gone before me? In particular, there's this line in the song that really jumped out at me. As the song is resolving, the worship leader says, "we will be as those who boldly come before the throne and sing the elders' song...even unto death." Really? Unto death? The weight of that line is massive. The idea that we are called to sing worship to God, even in the face of death is a daunting reminder of my failure to even come close to that. It's so easy to praise God when things are going well, or more solemnly, when things are not going so well so long as there is an innate belief that it will all resolve itself to our good. But what of the idea that our praise and worship is to be extended even at the point of our death- when it is apparent that things are not going to work out like we want them? What of the stories of the saints and elders like Stephen who, even at the point of his death could look up towards heaven and see Jesus and then with his last breath speak forgiveness over those who were killing him? What of Paul and Silas, of the Apostle John, of Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela who could believe in and worship a Savior in spite of facing and embracing death in a very real and tangible sense? What do we do with those stories in a worldview that has no idea what it really means to "face death all the day long" as Psalm 44:22 says. Am I really willing or ready to worship God to the point of my death? Do I value His love and sacrifice to that point, or is it merely idle chatter and pretty (albeit haunting) songs that fill my day with no real connection to my actual life?

Let's take a step back. Is there anything for which I am willing to die? I would dare say that at this point there isn't- and that scares me. Martin Luther King, Jr. said "if a man is not willing to die for something he is not fit to live. " Could I extend it slightly and say that the person who has not found something worth dying for has not yet begun to live? I mean, consider it- if there is nothing for which we would be willing to sacrifice everything, then how can we accurately love anything? Do I rightly love God if I would not be willing in more than word to lay down my life? Is God enough, or do I think that adding to Him is necessary in order to fully appreciate and embrace life? Further, by adding to Him, do I take away from who he really is? Hint- the answer is yes.

And there's still one step further this journey is taking me. Am I willing to die...to myself. Now, I am not referring to the oft used reference of "death to self" referring to a subduing of passions and desires in pursuit of some as yet unattainable divine goal or spiritual "attitude." I am talking of my willingness to put upon the altar of my life any dreams and ambitions to see if, when tried by fire, they last and are found to actually be God's plans. We all make plans- it's in our nature to do so. We take into account our ambitions, abilities, desires, and any number of other factors in order to create a plan for our lives that we intend to walk out. Often, these plans are built out of a desire to do the will of God for our lives (however elusive that may seem to be at times), and we strive with all earnest to see them come about. But would we be willing to lay them down? I mean, Saul knew that he was doing God's work, and pursued it with as much vigor and fervor as he possibly could. Then God stepped in and changed everything. Moses was completely content living a life of luxury in the palace of the king until a situation arose that shook him to the very core of his being and sent him fleeing into the desert (where he would spend the remainder of his days). Abraham was a good man who became righteous simply because he "believed" when God called out to him. The key factor with all these people? God stepped in and they were willing to be changed. The key question for me? Would I be as willing to let everything I knew, everything I felt "called" to do, everything I was sure of be held by the master and shaped into what it is he precisely wants?

I sure hope so.

In truth, the Bible is replete with stories of men and women who were pursuing their plans and passions, only to have those plans shaken by an encounter with a very real God. Fishermen left their trade and their families to pursue an unknown man with a panache for pissing people off, shepherds left the comfort and familiarity of their flock to confront an army, and women left behind the established order and societal conventions in order to ensure that the gospel was preached and established. The ultimate flexibility of these people's plans met the immovability of a sovereign God's plans for each of us and the restoration of the world to Himself. I pray that I might be one who, as these did, would be willing to lay down what is firm in my mind for what is ultimate in His heart.

Lenten Reflection (yes, I wanted it to Rhyme)

2009-03-12T14:26:00.001-07:00

So, here we are, right smack dab in the midst of Lent. It's an interesting time for many: people giving up stuff, talking about what they gave up, and in some cases, drawing closer to God in the process. My question right now is why?

Let me explain what I mean. Many of us go into Lent without a fully accurate understanding of its history. There is this pervasive misconception that it is somehow a season instituted through some biblical mandate to set aside very specific time surrounding the date of our remembrance of Christ's death to become more fully aligned with that suffering by...um...giving up XBOX? Yeah, there seems to be a disconnect there for me. I mean, isn't this season of Christ's death and subsequent resurrection supposed to be more of a time to remember how those acts bought us out of the hands of a fate far worse than death? Isn't Christ's resurrection, the cross upon which he hung, and the tomb in which he lay more about how we are now walking in "the righteousness of God" then how we should give up ultimately meaningless things to somehow remember him more fully? Don't get me wrong, I am all about pulling away from the everyday and the things which consume us to focus on getting to know God more, but how many of us actually do that? How many of us lay things down and actually turn our efforts and attentions that would normally be focused on ourselves on the one who created those same selves? Or is it (as it has been for me), something we do because giving up stuff for God makes us feel better about us, and somehow helps us feel as if we are a part of the process of sanctification/justification/righteousness that we are all called to?

Let's start with an obvious (according to the scripture) but often overlooked fact- righteousness is not ours to work towards. We have it, plain and simple. Christ's life, death and resurrection imparted to us a righteousness that we did nothing to earn, and couldn't if we tried. We were sinners, lost in a lifestyle of sin as imparted to us by Adam, but Christ came on the scene and through His life, death and resurrection, gave a new life of righteousness to us as the second Adam. Christ's sacrifice didn't give us a semblance of righteousness but rather the real thing, with all that comes with it. It would be unjust for God to allow death to enter the world through sin without us doing anything to earn that and then expect that we should have to do something to earn the restoration from that sin through actions of our own. So, first point- We ARE righteous even before we do anything because of Christ.

To the whole giving-up-stuff-because-it's-what-you-do-during-lent syndrome, I'm all for it...if. If that giving up is about us turning our affections for the things of this world (which are often so glitzy and seemingly glamorous) back to the one who created those things and gave them to us to enjoy (and who came into the world in such an unassuming way that many people missed it). It's not about turning away from those things for 40 days because it shows some piety or sacrifice on our part, it's about turning from those things for those 40 days and to God and saying, "now what do I do with this extra time/energy/mental capacity that has been freed up by me laying down some things that were cluttering up my life."

I, personally, am tired of people telling me what they gave up for lent, without them following that statement up with what they are now picking up...

You stopped watching television? Awesome, do you pray more?
You stopped talking on the phone? Great, do you spend more time on relationships?
You stopped facebook or myspacing (but who does that anymore anyway)? Phenomenal, do you spend more time in quiet reflection?

My question to myself as much as anyone else is, what is it about lent that is about building Christ up in our lives? Is this season just a time for me to say I gave someting up for God, or is it a time for me to look back and remember how I drew closer to Him, learned more about Him, and saw how the things I put so much stock in pale in comparison to the one who gave me every good and perfect gift to enjoy in the first place? Is this a season I grin and bear without my most recent and favorite crutch, candy, game, or distraction? Or is this a time when the hunger and desire for those things pushes me to discover who made them so amazing in the first place. I pray I continually look past the seen to the unseen, and past the things I can give up to He who created all things and called them "good."

Pursue. Original.
D

Don't get wasted

2009-02-25T08:33:00.000-08:00

So...today is Ash Wednesday. Funny thing is that, as I was driving into work this morning I realized that, though I have been a Christian for the vast majority of my life, I have absolutely NO idea what the significance of this day is. So, I endeavored to find out. I called a buddy of mine, Andrew Arndt, who is the Associate Pastor at Sanctuary Church in Tulsa to try to get some clarity on this whole deal. It was enlightening to say the least.

We all die. There it is, plain and simple. No one likes to think about that, nor do we like to confront the realities of our mortality, but the truth is the truth- we will all kick the bucket at some point (Thank you Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman). At the point of that death, the Bible indicates that we will stand before a Holy God and face judgment for how our lives were lived while on the earth. Therefore, the crux of Ash Wednesday is summed up in this passage from Genesis 3:19

"for dust you are
and to dust you will return.”

But, more than that, the question that it begs (as Andrew so graciously pointed out) is, what did we do with those passing moments we had on this earth? What did we do with the gift of God called life while we were living it? Now, I'm not talking about adhering to some moralistic code of ethics. I'm not talking solely about whether or not we were nice to our siblings, or gave money to the homeless guy, or kicked the neighbor's stupid dog for barking in the middle of the night for absolutely no reason and keeping half the neighborhood awake on the eve of one of the most important nights of your young life (what- too specific?). No, I am talking about the things that matter- the eternal things.

A rather popular quote within Christianity is "only what is done for God will last." How true. If it is true that God is eternal and His plan for humanity has been playing out for His glory and our good since before time began, then wouldn't it make sense that anything we try to do outside of that plan and outside of a devotion to Him would be utterly futile? Wouldn't it make sense that whatever we do apart from Him would ultimately be destined for failure in the eternal sense? But where does that leave us?

I propose this- that a life submitted to the purposes of God is worth more than all the "success" and accolades that humanity can bestow upon us. I submit that there is a purpose to which each of us has been called and that it is a part of a bigger purpose for the glory of God in the story of mankind. I submit that all of our dreams and ambitions, our talents and ideas, our hopes and our vision, when rightly given over to the God that gave them all to us in the first place, can be a part of something amazing. Now, I dare not define "amazing" in the sense that the rest of humanity does. Yes, for some that will mean accolades and esteem, with their names being lauded and shouted from rooftops (proverbial or real). But, there are still countless others who will live their lives in relative silence, without the world ever knowing their names, or what they did to advance the cause of Christ. But what makes either of these positions better or worse? Nothing but our perception.

We, in our prideful and narcissistic states, long for recognition. We want to be the ones that are known, the ones that are lifted up, the ones whose impact is seen as "making a difference" in someone's life. But, beyond our own selfish ambition, the question that begs is why? We have become so good at masking our selfish hearts within seeming altruistic intentions, believing that if we fool enough people into believing that we just want "the betterment of humanity" and the "glorification of God" by our ambitions, then we have done something for the kingdom. But God doesn't need our ambition, he needs our submission.

Paul in Philippians 2:17 says "Yet even if I am being poured out like an offering as part of the sacrifice and service I offer for your faith, I rejoice, and I share my joy with all of you." There is no ambition here, no pride gilded in tarnished altruism, no desire for the glorification of self. Paul is quite simply desiring to be whatever God would have him to be so that some might be saved. Where is that in my life?

Where is my desire to simply be a conduit for the glory of God to be revealed? Where is my desire to simply be a part of the story of God's power and plan in humanity, regardless of how my part in that story plays out? Where is my desire to simply be "poured out" upon whomever and whatever He chooses? Have I become so guilty of setting sights on things below that the things above lose their luster? Have I become so ensconced in this world (which is but a vapor) that its picket fences, comfortable living, and recognition are all that matter? Am I wasting my life in the pursuit of that which will bring moments of fleeting fancy while on this earth, but leave no one with an impact that will last into their eternity?

John Ortberg by way of Andrew sad something that will probably resonate with me for quite some time. In the pursuit of God's glory and purpose in our lives, it should be our purpose and our chief aim to "be poured out and not wasted." May that ever be my prayer.

What comes next

2009-02-20T13:03:00.001-08:00

I'm not even going to try and apologize for not writing in a long time. Not going to attempt to make some vain promise about how I will get better. I probably won't. But at least I'm aware of the problem- right? :)

So, we're in the midst of a transitional time in my life. I'd love to say that I exactly knew from what I was transitioning, or to what I was transitioning, but that answer currently seems to escape me. All I can say is that I'm going somewhere because where I've been for these past several years just isn't working.

These past few weeks have been interesting for me. The best way I can think to describe them is in the words of Charles Dickens in A Tale of Two Cities, "It (is) the best of times and it (is) the worst of times." Right now it feels as if everything that I once thought I understood is being stripped away, and all of my concrete ideas are suddenly turning to some indiscernible mush that is increasingly difficult to stand on. If you read The Painful Inbetween it will give you a better sense of where I am right now. And though that place hasn't necessarily changed, I am not going to revisit that right now. Instead, on to Mr. Dickens' statement.

It really is the best of times right now, not because of what I am currently experiencing, but rather because of where I have to believe that all of this is leading me. It's like what Paul says in Romans 8:18, "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us." I get it. I mean, I understand that there really is some greater purpose to which we have all been called. I am "not my own," "bought with a price," the whole bit. I really do see how this short time of struggle (because in the grand scheme of things, 6 years really isn't that long), is nothing compared to what God can and will do in my life over time. So, I understand how this is the best of times, because it's a part of some grander (yep, I said grander) plan, some plan that has yet to be revealed and will ultimately be a part of the story of life that we all live out together to His glory. It really is the "best of times."

But it's also "the worst of times." As I stated previously, nothing I planned for my life has worked out the way I thought it would. I'm kind of at an impasse with nowhere to look but up. Everything that I have ever in any way found identity or solace in is kind of being stripped away from me right now. I love my job, but can't stay here financially and am working two others just to make ends meet. I've been involved in two accidents in the span of a month that my insurance company has seen fit to deem my fault, my girlfriend and I are no longer together, and I have no really strong friendships in Dallas right now to draw on. To say it's hard is to make one of the truest understatements I have heard in quite some time.

But I'm still hopeful. I still know that this is all a part of some plan that I can neither control, nor fully understand. Everything does happen for a reason, and even in the midst and in spite of the pain- God's bigger, and His plan is being worked out. Bread comes to me daily, and I need to learn to accept that, even when I don't understand why things are happening the way they are and even if I would have chosen a different path.

There's a great couple of verses from the Caedmon's Call song Table for Two that really sticks out to me right now:

Well this day's been crazy
But everything's happened on schedule
from the rain and the cold
To the drink that I spilled on my shirt
'Cause You knew how You'd save me
before I fell dead in the garden
And You knew this day
long before You made me out of dirt

And You know the plans that You have for me
And You can't plan the end and not plan the means
And so I suppose I just need some peace
Just to get me to sleep.

Help me God to get to sleep, not in the sense that I am lackadaisically going through life, but rather in the sense that I rest in the knowledge that it's all working out for a greater good and a greater glory.

Pursue. Original.
Damany

The painful in between

2009-01-30T20:21:00.000-08:00

Yes, this is a repost from todaygrace.blogspot.com, sue me...

There's this interesting concept that's been rolling around in my head. It's something I haven't been able to shake for quite some time and since it is all too well known amongst my friends that I process best when I write, I figured I would give it a go. My question is this- at what point does dreaming become an exercise in futility? More specifically, at what point do we retire (or perhaps put on hold) the pursuit of dreams for the realities of surviving in daily life?

I was raised in a household that taught and encouraged my sisters and I to shoot for the stars, to believe that anything could be accomplished, and that there was nothing which could not be done if one put their minds and expertise to it. I grew up believing that failing was to not try, not to not succeed when you did (was that confusing to anyone). I saw a father who, even at the point of his death, had not seen the realization of his dreams- but even then he dreamed. He left behind a strong name, passion for people, and an ability to dream that was unmatched, but not necessarily a sense of what it looked like to see those dreams accomplished. Of late, I have felt that I have been following suit. What I mean is this- I have been striving for some indeterminate dream for quite some time now...and I still don't seem to be getting anywhere for all my dreaming.

More times than I can count, I have struck out with little but a dream- no plan, no actionable items, just a passion to do...something more than I currently found myself doing. And, more times than I can count, I have found myself in this exact place- desperately wanting more, but being confronted with the reality that what I have now is barely enough. All around me, I see friends and associates accomplishing their dreams, I see what appears to be God's blessing on the various aspects of their lives. I see marriages thrive, careers taking off, lives being lived with a joy and an abandon that only comes with something I can't quite put my finger on. And here I sit with a dream that is as of yet unfulfilled. I sit in between what I feel is a destiny and the reality of the shortcomings of my right now, and it hurts.

It hurts because I feel directionless at times. It hurst because I feel like I'm spinning my wheels without really gaining any traction. It hurts because I don't even know how to make it stop. And before you pose the standard answer, yes I pray- dear God do I pray! I pray for direction, I pray for correction where I'm missing it, I pray for favor, I pray for humility, I pray for boldness, I pray for inventiveness. Truth be told, I pray for anything I can think of that will help me get past this, this...place that I've been in for far too long. And yet I'm still here. And I don't know what else to do.

But do I give up on dreaming? Do I decide that the pursuit of a dream isn't worth it, and instead decide to chase the available and expedient? Do I fold my hand and throw in the cards (ironic references considering that I suck at all things gambling) and instead decide to just drone on through life? We all believe, or at least want to believe, that there's a more to which we are called; a greater that we are supposed to accomplish. But what is that for me? There are talents and abilities that people continually point out in me, but where have they ever gotten me- I mean, really gotten me, in the long run? Better yet, have I held onto my supposed "talents" for too long when I should have just been putting nose to the grindstone and doing what was necessary to survive daily? Yes, I mean regular things like just getting a "regular" job that has things like benefits and health insurance. But I also mean so much more and so many other things which are entirely intangible. Things like is "fulfillment" that important in your job, or is that just a crutch to keep you from working hard at something you don't particularly care for?

I've got more questions than answers right now. There will undoubtedly be more to come.

Kroger Randomness...

2008-12-28T21:51:00.000-08:00

So, it has again been a while since last I blogged. Partly, this is because I am blogging regularly at a new blog authoured by several friends of mine, todaygrace.blogspot.com, and quite honestly it is mostly because I just keep forgetting. I would promise that I will get and /or be better, but all I can promise is that I will try...really, really hard. But enough of the potentially empty promises, let's try to update you on the past month...

But first, a digression. I am sitting at Kroger grocery store (because they have free internet and are extremely deserted at midnight on a sunday). As I sit here I look up, only to be greeted by the sight of two girls walking around in the most curious and unnecessarily scandalous outfits I think I've seen in a while. One is in the standard, "I am going out on a Sunday night" attire, with the too short shorts and shirt that shows a middrift. And, just in case you were wondering if I were posting this blog a little late (say a summertime blog for instance), know that it is in fact December 28 and it in fact like 40 degrees outside. Warm by some standards for sure, but definitely not "warm." This idea is further ensconced by the fact that nher friend is wearing a semi-winter jacket with her own too short, ass hugging shorts and unnecessarily tall heels. Is the need for atention so great that you will risk the discomfort that is sure to accompany such an outfit in this weather only to be noticed by someone of the opposite sex? But then I think, is this really all that different from ridiculous machinations that I have found myself engaging in to be noticed and applauded? Not really I suppose, just a different shade of the same stupidity. Nevertheless, here's a picture of this particular shade (not the greatest picture I know, it was off my phone)...

Ok, other things. I have spent the past several days in rural Missouri visiting/meeting my girlfriend's family. For those of you who follow my twitter account or facebook page, you know that the first night I was there I broke her family's oven...on Christmas Eve!!! I'm still alive and a series of jokes at my expense filled the rest of the week- good times (no seriously, it's all good). Spending time out in the middle of relatively nowhere was good on a number of fronts. I was cut off from my normal overconnectedness that comes in the way of facebook, twitter, myspace, multiple blogs, multiple email addresses, texting, calling...you get the point. I got the opportunity to spend time- actual time- thinking and processing, visiting with Carly and her family and just confronting the realities of being. It was awesome. I won't be naive enough to say that I succeeded at being regularly, or even often, but I was at least aware of the need to be since there was really nothing else to do. Ok, I'm rambling now...

Suffice it to say that this week has been great in the sense that it has forced me to question some things that I hold as a part of who I am. It's not so much that I think this connectedness to the outside world is a bad thing, but it has given me pause to wonder how much of it is really necessary and how much of it is an opportunity for me to fill my life with stuff and avoid...something. So, it's a proces'ssing time for me and there are a lot of questions on the table. Carly's been good to pose some of the questions and it'll be interesting to see what answers God leads me to.

P.S. Last night, Carly met Best Friend Trae (or just Trae) while we had our brief stay in Tulsa. I don't think she was prepared for the excitement and silliness that is our friendship union. She rose to the occasion though, and jumped right in to the sarcastic silliness. I have the best girlfriend ever. Here's a picture they will both hate me for posting...

P.P.S. A woman just walked into Kroger in her bathrobe to rent a movie from the little movie renting kiosk. I love late night Kroger.

An update of sorts...

2008-11-27T15:00:00.000-08:00

So, I looked and realized that I haven't blogged in over a month. My bad folks. Currently I'm in Florida visiting mi madre for Thanksgiving and so far it's been fun. My brother is here, and though none of my other siblings were able to make it out, it has been nice to hang out with him, his new wife and his three kids (whom I seldom get to see), and of course my mother. I am still working at Outback, though I will now be assuming more responsibility by taking over the outside sales for my store. Essentially I am trying to get people to use Outback to do catering for them and trying to develop successful relationships with organizations and businesses in the community. I'm looking forward to it as it gives me the opportunity to work in sales by selling something I actually love- food :).

Additionally, I have started dating an amazing girl- Carly Sue Pickens. Yes, the same Carly referenced in the preceding post of almost a month ago, and no I wasn't hiding anything from you or hinting at anything by including her name or picture in the preceding post. The story of how we met and subsequently came to be a couple is one I enjoy telling (much to her eye-rolling chagrin), so if you're interested in hearing it, let me know.

Outside of that, there really has not been a whole lot going on. Life's good and I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. In the meantime, I'll try to get better about writing about it as I live it. Talk to you soon, gotta go have another plate of food...

Pursue. Original.
~Damany

Self Heating Meals...

2008-10-29T22:32:00.000-07:00

This isn't a deep one, merely a random outtake from my life. So today, I had a meeting with the Executive Director of the Champions of Hope mentoring program- Carly Pickens. We were meeting to talk about possible marketing initiatives for CoH and ways to turn that into fundraising opportunities. In all, a great meeting with a cool person I met because of a bad-ass church, The Village (yes I called my church bad ass- you should check it out at www.thevillagechurch.net). CoH offices out of a church in one of Dallas' more underprivileged communities, Cornerstone Baptist Church. Occasionally (ok, regularly) Cornerstone will get donations of some of the most random stuff imaginable. A few days ago it was a 6 foot baby grand piano. Today- foodstuffs.

Now, I am hesitant to refer to it under the stricter guideline of "food" because it had a rather ominous label on it which indicated that it had a 3 year shelf life. How any real food could have that long of a shelf life is beyond me, save an overwhelming amount of preservatives and processing to the point that you fear a certain amount of glowing light may emanate from the packaging when the lights are turned off. My assumption is that this food was designed for the military, and when even they didn't want it, the remnants were pushed off on the unsuspecting public. Now, the extended shelf life isn't what made this so unique or blog worthy, it was instead the "self-heating" properties so boldly advertised on the packaging. That's right folks, no microwave needed here. Just open the bag, pour in the water (supplied of course) insert the foil lined, vacuum sealed food pouch, and watch as the chemical reaction takes place, making a seemingly innocuous element in the bag heat with enough intensity to heat an entire meal (in our case it was chicken and dumplings) to a "just right" temperature. It's really quite ingenious. That is, except for the ungodly smell created by the heating element, and subsequently the food once the pouch was breached. It was so bad in fact, that we had to hurriedly cast it out of the room in the hopes that we could exorcise it of the awful aroma.

Needless to say, we didn't eat any of it.

I'm sure this seemed like a brilliant idea to someone on paper and posed a lot of great potential. In actuality, however, it proved to be a tad bit...well, awful. The worst part though, is that somebody along the way had to know how bad this would bomb and how terrible it smelled- but no one stopped production. It instead trudged along through production and delivery, where it was destined to languish in misery upon store shelves until mercifully being withdrawn, recalled, or outright given away. This makes me think about my own life and that of those around me. How often do we start down a path that looks promising and, instead of aborting the plan when it becomes apparent that we were wrong, we continue on doing the same things, even as our actions and lifestyles reek of bad decisions and missed callings and opportunities? Even more daunting is when those of us around people who are following down a destructive path don't speak up, even though they know the actions will just leave the person stagnated and on the shelf for years. Why?

Why don't we speak up, change our course of action and see where better decisions take us? I'll tell you why. Because complacency and comfortability is often more acceptable than difficulty and work. Sure chopping carrots, cleaning chicken, and stewing dumplings is hard work. But in the end, the payoff is something people can actually use. Think about it. Ok, I lied, maybe it was a little deep.

Pursue. Original

todaygrace.blogspot.com

2008-10-24T13:06:00.001-07:00

Ok, so I have the privilege of announcing a brand new blog, Grace for Today. Over the course of the past several years, I have had the privilege of being introduced to some of the most provocative thinkers, brilliant and hilarious people, and touching Christians I have ever known. A few of these people have banded together and started a multi-author blog that is all about the constant search for Grace and Faith in "unexpected places." Ultimately it's about each of our journeys through life and how we confront and meet God along the way. It's got no censor, no regular framework. Ultimately, we'll just write about life and see what happens from there. I encourage you to check it out and subscribe when you get a chance. Thanks to Kelbert McFarland, Brittany Loose, Russell Hall, Din Tolbert, and Laura Cooke for allowing me to be a part of this awesome experience.

Pursue. Original.
todaygrace.blogspot.com

Grace

2008-10-14T08:33:00.000-07:00

Grace sneaks
Like the tiniest of butterflies
Flitting by unannounced
Breaking through our vision
Grace speaks
In the tiniest of voices
And we, listening close
Strain to hear what we don't deserve
And to tell its story to the world