A Second Chance at Beauty

Yesterday was my first official day of work with MERCY Ministries. MERCY provides housing and help to homeless, at-risk single mothers. I was working at the furniture store (to furnish the homes and to sell to raise money for the programs), moving an absurd amount of furniture. Several thousand pounds of it, from one room to another.

I love furniture. My grandfather, whom I never met, sold furniture. Eventually, he ran his own furniture store just a few blocks from home. My dad and his brothers helped out with the store, and I can vaguely remember running around the store bearing our family's name before it closed down. I was young, but I can still remember the look of the store and the smell of the furniture. Everything about that place was beautiful to me for some reason.

As I was moving furniture, I remembered the smells of the furniture in the family store. My fingers recalled the feel of a finely made dresser or chair. 20 years later, I missed the old store and the way the family used to be, before so many things changed.

Once the furniture was moved, I set to work cleaning every piece of furniture. Inside and out, top and bottom, even the parts no one would ever see. One of the other workers laughed at me and said, "What are you scrubbing for? This isn't new furniture, you're trying too hard." But she was wrong. With every careful stroke, I could see the beauty of the wood shine through. That kind of natural beauty has a way of hiding beneath the years gone by, under dust and stains.

I can't help but think that a man was once proud to have called those pieces of furniture his creation. I can't help but think that a family was once in love with each dresser or chair, glad to call it part of their home. Over time, we let things go. Scratches and dents are ignored, rather than being repaired. Before long, we give away our useless junk.

Beneath the rugged exterior, I found something worthwhile. As I washed away the stains and years of dust, I could again see the magnificence that so many people had overlooked.

Yesterday, I realized why Jesus was a carpenter. No matter how rough a piece may appear, it only takes a little extra work to make it something beautiful again. I believe that the God of Love believes in that extra work, and he's made it His glorious work. A sanding here, a staining there, a good scrubbing now and then... and the splendor of creation will once again take your breath away.

Love Drug?

I'm taking a class on addictions, and it's been very challenging for me so far. I've started to think about things I do and why I do them... sometimes these are things I don't even want to do. Anyway, I read this statistic during my readings this week:

The number of drug users in the United States is higher than the number of weekly churchgoers.

I guess our Gospel isn't terribly addicting, it would seem. I have to be honest, though, I completely understand.

I think we have some work to do...

The Creation of Self

I was sitting in class yesterday, listening to an insane genius of a man talk about poetry. I love poetry. There's incredible beauty in remembering a verse that touches your soul. I often keep books of poetry close to me, so I can catch my breath during the day. For a lover of poetry, hearing someone else describe their passion is captivating. My professor almost seemed hurt that we could not discuss every poet he loved, but he managed to muster this incredible revelation: "When we choose, we limit ourselves. While it is easy to find sadness in the limit, we must take joy in the choice."

When we choose, we limit ourselves.

Every choice we make has results. These results can be large, small, good, bad... regardless of what the results are, we cannot deny that they happen. Well, we can. We certainly try to. It seems like we deny the limits that our choices make. Looking back after a choice often makes us wonder if we've missed out, if we made the right decision. We focus on the limit and brush the choice aside. Even this is a choice we make, and it limits us.

This is beautiful. Not sad. Think about the choices you make every day. We choose to like certain styles of music, music that speaks to our hearts and quiets our minds. We choose to dislike others, because they do not meet us in our desires. The choice defines you, and the limit only makes the choice more poignant.

Our choices speak volumes on who we are as individuals. Likewise, our limits highlight the choices we make. This is how we better ourselves and shape our futures. Each choice is a brushstroke, each limit an idea for our creation. The final piece has yet to be seen, but much of the work has been done.

When we choose to do good, we are limiting the bad we can do. Every time the choice is made to pursue good, we choose to limit the grasp evil holds on us. Often times we think that it's just a small decision or it won't affect me that much, yet the fact is that everyday we take away from who we are by limiting ourselves in all the worst ways. We choose flesh to limit spirit. We choose mind to limit heart. We choose sadness to limit joy. We choose compromise to limit greatness. How much spiritual growth have you limited by choosing to let your bad decisions define you? We so often focus on how we might miss out that we completely miss the adventure unfolding before us. This worry blinds us to the very life we are trying so hard to live.

This idea has made me dissect my heart to learn how I have limited myself, and I have learned a great deal. I have also learned that the best way to live is to embrace my need to choose. How else will I ever make a good choice? Look at the choices you make. Can you see how you hold yourself back?

While it is easy to find sadness in the limit, we must take joy in the choice.

Take joy, my friends.

Where Past Meets Future

I am three days removed from leaving my second youth ministry. Much like my first exit, I would hesitate to call it "delightful" or anything similar. Ultimately, I know that this was for the best. A few months of service and possibly even the chance to be ministered to are things that I desperately need right now. But, I've been doing a lot of thinking...

I've spent some time being really down on the church. Two years at LCC followed by two stints in conservative, modern churches added a lot of fuel to this fire. Now, I feel bad.

I see a great deal of change coming to the church. I see a communal, spiritual family that is waiting to formulate. In the shadow of this bright future, I see a church that doesn't know what to do. We protect what we know and how we view things because we're holding onto this present-past for dear life, unsure of what's looming on the horizon.

Change is terrifying, regardless of which side of the fence you call home. For some, change comes too quickly. For others, it comes too slowly. But for everyone, despite our pride, the prospect of change makes us worry.

This is making me more positive about the church... and I'm also reconsidering my future with it. This emerging, dare I say postmodern (take that, Dr. Knopp!), church is infantile with barely enough strength to stand. In the face of a modern church to scared to let go, I cannot help but wonder... Am I called to actively lead as the church grows? Am I called to preach? Am I called to physically and spiritually help lead this struggle in a big way?

I'm feeling the growing pains already, like my spirit is stretching beyond where my brain is used to going. The strain is going beyond what I have been taught and where I have been. I think I'm starting to realize that I am not alone here. The church is feeling these pains, the people we see everyday are starting to look beyond what they have known.

In 8 months, I will most likely be in seminary. Where? I have no idea. Doing what? I have no idea. As I struggle with where I find myself in the church, I ask you to question these same things with me. Join me, and let's figure out where we're going. Struggle with me. And please... learn to forgive those who don't understand. Let grace be our motion and God be our goal.

P.S. - Go read Brian McLaren's A New Kind of Christian. Please. Let's start a conversation.

I Can't Wait Any Longer...

My first semester of college was not a very good time in my life. I've never gotten grades so low or been so worried about things. But during that semester, I grew. I overcame the person I used to be, and I matured into a more wise and spiritually aware person. I was part of a real family of God, and I loved every minute.

This semester has made me long for that first semester again.

I have cycled back and forth between apathy and extreme stress. I am borderline passing two classes, at least I hope so. My relationship with the church crumbled beneath me. Any kind of spirituality I had hoped for became lost amidst the rest of life, and I spent a lot of my time being pretty miserable.

I am tired. I am sad. I feel lost in a world much bigger than I am. Honestly... I'm lonely.

I have great roommates that I love. I have great friends that are very good to me. But school and church have left me with a void. I feel like I've faded from where I need to be.

Last night, I told my youth group that next week would be my last at the church. Next Wednesday will mark the end of my 2.5 years as a youth minister, and I don't know that I'll miss it. I love kids so much, and it always amazes me how easily I can see Jesus in them. But I can't do this lesson thing anymore. I have a hard time with church structure. Next semester, I'm gonna try something new. I will be volunteering with Mercy House and probably Inner City Mission. I need to fight the passivity that's been burdening me. I need to actively pursue Jesus again.

Things are about to get interesting again. You know me... I don't plan these things well. But I have heard a call, and I see a mission field just minutes from where I now sit. And I see Jesus waiting to teach me again.

I have gotten to see my best friend more this semester than I have in a while, and I hope that continues. And my nephew is walking, and he sure likes to play with his Uncle Mike. Life's not so bad, even with school and responsibilities you don't want bearing down on you. The giggle of a one-year old whom you love with all you are can cure just about anything.

This is me. This is where I find myself right now. Thank you for reading, thank you for caring. Pray for me.

23 years...

I grew up in the church. I've gone almost every week for 23 years. I've worked for 2 churches over the last 2+ years. It took me 23 years, but I've realized what church has done for me. Here's a short list:

It's made me kind of judgmental. It's made me extremely cynical and sarcastic. It basically emasculated me (not literally, of course...). It's made me terrified to be honest about my shortcomings and afraid to admit that there are areas where I am weak, where I really need help.

I have a lot of thoughts after 23 years of life, but many of them right now are focused on church. Not the Church, but church. I have grown to resent it.

I love Jesus Christ with all of my heart, but I find it difficult to credit this to church attendance. I go to church in Springfield, and 10 people might say hi. None give names. I usually get told I have nice hair at least once. I have such a deep longing for community, and the place God gave us to find community is failing me.

Sure, I have met some wonderful people in church. I have found wonderful examples of This Life in church. But I can't stop reading Acts... I can't stop feeling terrible about how far we've strayed from that Body we were meant to be.

My present to myself this year? I'm looking to move on. I'm looking to start a house church that is willing to stand up and be the Church. I'm looking to fellowship, to worship, to grow, to be weak, to be healed, to heal, to be comforted, to be Loved, and to bring that Love to the world.

Going to church might still help some of you, but I need to take a break. I need to experience God without the filter. I need to rediscover the adventurous part of being a man of God, because I'm tired of being domesticated. I don't know what that means or how I'm gonna do it, but I guess we'll see...

The Healing is in the Pain

I have often found it strange how we live our lives pretending that everything is OK. Actually, we like to pretend that everything is better than OK. Funny how this rests on a single word... pretend. Do you remember what it was like to play pretend?

Disappointing. Sure, the playing was fun, but man did it suck to realize that the real world was still there. It's fraud. It's like life is being stolen from us. We deepen the hole in our lives by pretending that we're not digging ourselves deeper.

In life, we try to ignore the things that bring us down. We ignore the pain, with the hope that time will heal our wounds. Eventually, we simply find ourselves numb and no longer able to cope. Our ego is not a band-aid, it is a self-inflicted wound that slowly drains us of life.

If I want a picture painted, I'll ask an artist. If I want my car repaired, I'll ask a mechanic. But when I want healing, I try to treat myself.

The deeper our hole gets, the more we become convinced that we can jump out on our own. How arrogant are we that we force ourselves to act stronger than we could ever be? Sometimes, we realize our weakness and we beg God for strength. We plead with the Maker to be changed. God doesn't seem fond of this:

My grace is enough; it's all you need. My strength comes into its own in your weakness.

The healing is in the pain. The healing is the pain. The healing is a reminder that we can't do this on our own, that playing pretend falls short. God is in your pain. The weaker you get, the stronger you become because grace takes over. Embrace your weakness and feel the pain. The healing has only just begun.