Dear Christians

May our gospel-inspired advocacy of seeing hope proclaimed; grace and mercy manifested; love displayed; and redemptive relationship with our Creator experienced and realized by all the collective children in this broken world never be outweighed or skewed by a need to dogmatically solve the issues of faith and a desire to resolve the tension between the sacred and secular with concrete, unchallengeable self-justified interpretations.

May we be more offended and appalled by the thought or reality of a soul created for relationship with Love itself estranged and cut-off, consequently subjected to eternal damnation and unrelenting torment, than we are by the thought that all might be invited to partake in one of the many rooms which our Father in Heaven has prepared.

May we never commit ourselves to defending elitist entrance into the Kingdom which we have been graciously extended participation, instead let us resolve to embrace the broken and marginalized and hopefully anticipate sharing a table at the wedding feast with even those who have rejected that which we have committed ourselves to.

May we hope recklessly and love dangerously.

Abundance

I have long since been familiar with the concept of abundance, the word gets significant usage within circles of church people.  It is often referenced during times of needed encouragement and admonition, seemingly equated to happiness or triumphant conquering of struggle.  This past week the word has received significant attention in my mind.  The more that I’ve turned it over and sifted it around the more I feel I don’t have an accurate understanding of its meaning.  More specifically, I’m not really sure what Jesus was really getting at when he said “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”

What would life tangibly look like if I were to have and live it abundantly?

Dictionary.com defines abundance with these words: present in great quantity; more than adequate; oversufficient; well supplied; abounding; overflowing fullness.  The first things that would come to mind if asked for my definition would be: a utopian state of being; a state acquired when all of an individual’s yearnings are achieved; desires fulfilled; contentment realized; the absence of strife.  The former seemingly references a state which is while mine is one in which is to be obtained, pursued, striven after.  Quite the contrast, my definition is grossly conditional and skewed with a heavy dose of prosperity nonsense and a little personal idealism mixed in.

The question I find myself asking is – Within the context of “life in Christ”, is abundance something to be embraced or pursued?  Is it something that we accept and engage with or is it something that we strive after and obtain?   In my imagination I tried to picture how Jesus might respond if asked for a definition to the word abundance and I got a fairly vivid picture of him turning his gaze towards me, piercing into my core with his crystal blue eyes and responding “I am.”  There was a brief moment in which the sun was shimmering off his silky pantene pro-v blonde expressions softened hair where it was a pretty cool thought until I realized it was still very frustrating and void of the easily interpretable answer I sought.

Materialism Abundance, or Consumer Abundance, is certainly something in which we seek to obtain.  But in referencing Spiritual Abundance, and life from a holistic approach I think abundance is to be lived, simply that.  Abundance is because Christ is, regardless of circumstance or whether our desires have been met.  Christ is abundance – one and the same.  If we choose to live neglecting one we directly neglect the other, for abundance cannot exist apart from the Christ.  They’re both intimately woven and bound up together.  If Christ is our definition for abundance than we are whole and complete even within the existence of lack and want.  It is the dichotomous relationship between all that which is and that which is hoped for.  But it’s important not to delay abundance by being consumed by hope or anticipation of it.  For as long as Christ is who he says he is then abundance is this moment.

And is this moment.

As is this one.

And so is the next to be.

As is the moment we hope for after that one.

And the one to be after that.

Of Recycled Sloppy Wet Kisses

• To venture a guess, I’d say it was it was about three and a half years ago that I first heard John Mark-McMillan’s song “How He Loves”, maybe four or even five, perhaps. That’s irrelevant though, what is: I didn’t like it at first.  Something about it didn’t sit well with me, it made me uncomfortable.  What I was incapable of articulating at that time was that it presented a raw honesty and it comfortably existed within a realm of tension of which I did not.  I had just started attending a Sunday evening church service at a church inconveniently located in regards to where I was living and this song quickly became somewhat symbolic of what this church represented to me.  Each time we sang it I would find it odd as we worshiped to lyrics referencing trees bending beneath the weight of hurricanes, but I would really squirm as we sang about sloppy wet kisses.  In spite of the “inconvenience” of driving 30 minutes I returned and even pursued community and relationships there, one of which was with the worship pastor who one of my friends had dubbed “The Sloppy Wet Kiss Guy” (a potentially controversial title for a worship pastor if taken out of context).  In hindsight, I can now identify that the lure of this community was represented in those lyrics.  Not specifically in the singing of them but in what they symbolized:  Life with Christ – Not confined to our polite pleasantries but instead defined by genuine authenticity.  I came to love those lyrics and anticipated the joy of expressing with awe and wonder that “He loves us” and over those three and a half years, maybe four or perhaps five, there was a significant paradigm shift that happened in life.  The tension of that which was uncomfortable no longer seemed so significant or paralyzing (singing a worship song at church being the least of which I reference).

• The week was coming to a close – at last.  It had been long, fun and exciting, but challenging and grueling at times and we were tired as we formed a sprawled huddle in our gathering space.  Physically, I was exhausted; emotionally: depleted; spiritually: overwhelmed.  Tonight we gathered one last time to review and relive the collective moments of our day and to pray for one another and for the mission groups who would be leaving St. Louis the following morning.  The week had seemingly climaxed moments before with a foot washing service in which God’s stirring presence permeated the air so thick it was impossible to deny.  And here we now sat – silently.  Incapable of expressing the emotion of the moment.  There were simply no words to fully convey the bursting inside of our hearts.  So, we sat in speechless awe instead.

And then it happened.

A chorus arose softly and beautifully from the other side of the door.  I mentally traced it down the hallway and into the chapel where its origin was revealed; a group of teenagers led by their youth pastor lifted their voices and said all that needed to be said “He loves us.  Oh, how he loves us.  How he loves us so.” The stirring was no longer just happening around me but inside of me.  I was no longer facilitating a spiritual experience for others but was being taken over as God intervened, pried open my chest and took a blender to all that was within me.  Chaos was ensuing inside of me and as my heart overflowed I had to fight to contain it from flowing out of my eyes and down my face.  And all that could be done, all that seemed appropriate, was to silently exist within that moment and be still and know.

• Knowing my dear friend, Denny, was coming to visit me for a weekend in St. Louis this past July I concocted a plan to have him play in our Sunday service. He, of course, was unaware of these plans at first.  Our pastor was always eager to present knew talent to his congregation and graciously found a place for anyone who wanted to be of service.  Naturally, I decided my friend needed to play during the special music portion of our service and I arranged things with Pastor Sapp who was thrilled by the plans.  Sunday service came and I entered with a less-than-reverent-for-the-sacred mindset.  Feeling weighed down and distracted, my mind focused on checklists and tasks.  Denny had selected “How He Loves” to play for this small Southern Baptist church of 30 some people.  Like clockwork I was soon on the verge of breaking down and sat in silence yet again.  Tears welling in my eyes and churning passion bursting in my chest.

• In high school my best friend, Ben, always played guitar and led worship during youth group. I have vivid and nostalgic memories of Sunday evenings where I came to experience and know something of the beauty of romance with my creator.  These all happened as Ben was leading our worship time together.  It was all very simplistic – Ben, an acoustic guitar and some words of love, adoration and surrender being lifted to God.  Weaved in between the vivid memories are the ones that are slightly hazy but equally as important – For in these less-than-memorable, somewhat mundane experiences I was learning as a teenager what it means to worship.  To this day, anytime I hear stripped down acoustic based worship I am immediately made aware of the significance and intimacy of the moment and a tingly feeling inevitably runs up and down my spine.  This is all rooted in those Sunday evenings with Ben leading us in worship.

So, I’ve been attending this new church for the last couple months.  Ben happens to be on the worship team.  This morning I was blessed to yet again sing a song that has taken on significant meaning to me with a group of people who are beginning to become significant in my life.  It was a joyous occasion as we all burst forth in unison during the simple chorus, eager to sing of the love which we have experienced and find hope in.

• At the moment I find myself flying in an airplane. The earth thousands of feet beneath me – solid matter and all that is physically tangible left below; distant, a fading thought.  My thoughts rise with this craft, lifted to the abstract and far beyond.  US Airways carries me through space and time; effortlessly we glide through vast emptiness.  To my right something draws my eye – I look across the two seats beside me, through the small oval shaped window with shade half-drawn, down and beyond the vessels outstretched wing and across a stoic land blanketed in snow.  My vision rests on a beautiful collision of vibrant hues of amber, soft Curious George-cowboy-hat-yellow and fiery red – It illuminates and consumes the oval through which I peer.  Here I gaze as the sun crashes into the horizon and ripples waves of colour across creation like a rock thrown into the pond back behind Grandma’s house, unapologetically disturbing its calm and stillness with boisterous splashes of exuberance. And it is in this moment, as “heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss” that I feel embraced yet again and think;

“Oh, how he loves us.  How he loves us so.”

Thursday, February 10th: A Day Void of Inspiration.

Apathy laced with lethargic indifference.  The origin from which this sense of bland lack of motivation spawns?  I seemingly cannot put my finger to the source of that which robs of life-inspired and replaces it with distracted weariness.   Gone are the familiar desires to engage in abstract creativity; to experience and express beauty – In it’s place a stranger unnamed.  Be it Void, Indecision or Ennui?  Perhaps.  Just as the tide surges and retracts in repetitive cycles, days and seasons of distorted focus do also.

Perhaps this stranger’s presence can be attributed to February.  In Minnesota.

[I think the finger of revealing truth just landed on it's destination.]

The following passage is one that I’ve referenced often, yet sporadically, over the past 8-10 months.  It is also one in which I am consistently attempting to wrap my mind around and articulate with my own words and thoughts.  As consistent as my attempts to expel and regurgitate some divine revelation from the life that flows through it, I have failed to do so adequately.  Rather than my flawed understanding interpreting it, its mysterious truth and understanding has seemed to interpret me.  Where my words have failed to define Isaiah 55 – it has been successful in defining my words.  In defining me.

Come, everyone who thirsts

come to the waters; and he who has no money,

come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk

without money and without price.

Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,

and your labor for that which does not satisfy?

Listen diligently to me,

and eat what is good,

and delight yourself in rich food.

Incline your ear,

and come to me;

hear that your soul may be an everlasting covenant,

My steadfast, sure love for David.

Behold,

I made him a witness to the peoples,

a leader and commander for the peoples.

Behold,

you shall call a nation that you do not know,

and a nation that did not know you shall not run you,

because of the Lord your God, and of the Holy One of Israel,

for he has glorified you.

Seek the Lord while he may be found;

call upon him while he is near;

let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts;

let him return to the Lord, that he may have compassion on him,

and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are my ways higher than your ways

and my thoughts than your thoughts.

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven

and do not return there but water the earth,

making it bring forth and sprout,

giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,

so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;

it shall not return to me empty;

but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,

and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

For you shall go out in joy

and be led forth in peace;

The mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing,

and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;

instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle;

and it shall make a name for the Lord,

an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.

-Isaiah 55

My mind swirls once again with vivid imagery and expressionless vastness.  What better time to share that which inspires, yet I am incapable of dissecting and fathoming, than today: A day void of inspiration.

25×25

Endeavors of a couple of good friends, a pastor and a multi-millionaire have brought me to the progressive realization that I am undisciplined, more so than I was initially willing to come to terms with.

My life lacks structure.  It’s not that there isn’t any ambition, there’s enough of that to drown a whale.   It’s just that the implementation of said ambitions is significantly amiss.  My spirit is willing, yet my flesh weak (an influential individual once said that).  I’m idealistic, but apparently lazy as well – problem identified.  And so it’s through observation of the hip regiments and trendy checklists these other characters in my life have bridled themselves to that I have created a personal agenda to accomplish before I turn twenty-five.

This list has been created, mulled over and adapted over the last two weeks.  A surprising amount of thought has gone into each goal.  Looking at this list in it’s completion, it all seems kind of silly and nonsensical to segment my life into compartmentalized categories.  I mean, making relational goals?  Seems oximoronic.  But then on the other hand, almost all of these could be relational based.  Except for that one about alienating people and forsaking all forms of human relationship. Wait…what?  The more thought I put into this the more narcissistic it all seems to be.

Alas, I do believe having direction and discipline in life is essential to being a healthy individual capable of offering themselves to those around them.  That’s what I hope to achieve.  Anyway, January 8th marks my 1/2 birthday.  Which leaves me a year and a half to complete the following 25×25, let the journey begin…

Spiritual

1.       Go on a 3 day silent retreat

2.       Become an official member of a church & join a weekly small group

3.       Complete Evening Prayers Rite 1&2 in Book of Common Prayer

4.       Fast for 7 days

Relational

5.       Grill outside during a Minnesota blizzard

6.       Visit 3 intentional communities

7.       Spend an afternoon with nieces and nephews

8.       Pursue restoration in 5 broken relationships / Write personal letter to each

9.       Identify a personal mentor / Commit to and establish consistent interaction

Physical

10.    Complete introductory level yoga classes

11.    Complete introductory level rock climbing lessons

12.    Run a 10K

Travel

13.    Watch 5 baseball games in 5 different stadiums (Fenway Park, Wrigley Field, Progressive Stadium…)

14.    Go on a 35+ mile backpacking trip

15.    Go to a showing of Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind in Chicago

16.    Attend a live recording of The Moth in Chicago or New York City

Personal Interests / Miscellaneous

17.    Start a podcast & record 3 episodes

18.    Compile unique memories, write them in short-story format / Publish 100 memoirs on blog

19.    Understand photography basics and how a 35mm camera works / Take and frame 3 photographs

20.    Visit a brewery & brew own beer

21.    Purchase reliable automobile

22.    Watch a sunset over the Pacific Ocean and a sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean

23.    Obtain 2^nd tattoo

24.    Go to the Minnesota State Fair

25.    Attend a wine tasting

Immanuel

Recent conversations have led me to realize I’ve yet to actually put pen to a stream of thoughts that is consistently muddling around in my head. I think that may be because it’s an inner monologue that I’ve grown quite accustomed to after the length of its existence.  That and I’ve audibly processed it within multiple delicate conversations with others.  It goes something like this;

brokenness

God…why do you feel so absent, are you really even there?

tension within conflict

I can’t hold it together, some “conqueror” I am…

shame within inadequacy

maybe God is just as glorified, if not more so, within my inability

messy healing immersed in deep woundedness

At one point in my life things were simple.  There were attainable goals that led to happiness and contentment and God behaved in a polite and predictable manner.  The deep and vivid contrast between black and white within my vision was quite lovely actually, it provided a sense of security that I could depend upon.  Life needs structure and the world presented a well formulated answer to my approach.  Actions lead to circumstance and outcome, and God is somewhere in the middle speeding up the positive outcomes so long as the action meets the required stipulations.

Part of that structure stemmed from a very basic understanding that pain is bad, conflict is a result of sin and because of the fall we are all doomed to a meaningless unfulfilled existence…unless.  Unless we allow God to fill the void within our hearts, to surrender and be satisfied, the void can be removed, the thirst quenched and the conflict ceased.  Redemption means healing within my brokenness, right?  And my soul has been redeemed so God, along with all of the horses and all the kings’ men, is going to take all of those broken pieces of my being and gorilla glue them back together and it will all be beautiful again, beautifully black and white.  But sometimes, sometimes I’m just not so sure…no.  To question is to doubt God’s goodness and to doubt or question might be misconstrued as denying.  And dammit (insert nervous pun laughter), I don’t want those consequences.

I’m very uncomfortable with all of this.

The more that I pursue and invest into these answers the more they seem to unravel. In one hand I hold the magic cure-all to the life of void I am predisposed to and in the other I have “just a few more weary days and then, I’ll fly away; to a land where joy shall never end, I’ll fly away.”  But neither really seems to address life in its fullest.

As creation commences God examines that which He has brought into existence and goes through a series of repetitive declarations telling of its goodness;

God saw that the

light

earth & seas

vegetation & fruitfulness

two great lights & the stars

swarming sea creatures & winged birds

beasts of the earth, livestock & ground creepers

man & woman

was good.

He saw everything that His hands had made and

behold,

it was very good.

No suspenseful surprises so far. But rewind back to that final creation of man and woman.  Insert between those two creations a thought; Picture Adam, there he is surrounded with overwhelming beauty, the likes of which I cannot fathom.  The setting in which the narrative takes places is perfect.  He spends his days in communion with God and dwells amidst the creator of all things pure.  And for the first time in creation, God examines all that exists and says “It is not good that the man should be alone.”

enter conflict

This is all pre-fall, pre-redemption.  Adam’s soul is permeated within the thickness of God’s glory.  Surrendering to God wasn’t even a thought in his mind or a word in his vocabulary, there was no need for it to be.  It seems silly to even apply unfulfilled as a descriptor to Adam’s life.  But there in the midst of a divine romance with God the Almighty, Adam is lonesome and within him is a void, incompleteness.  And so if all of this is happening before the fall, before all bad things enter world, how can conflict exist?

Perhaps, I have a faulty definition and understanding of what it means to be incomplete.  Knowledge of this feeling within myself can paralyze me with fear of what I am not capable of controlling, of what I can find no solution for.  I consistently skirt away from feeling empty in anyway because it scares me.  Scares me because I am broken and I desperately want to be fixed but I’m afraid it’s not possible.  Does that kind of behavior glorify God and how does He view this incompleteness?

To be someone who is about the Kingdom, who longs to see it redeem and restore humanity, means that I have to be functionable within the reality of my own personal wounds.  Rather than denying the tension of my own life I have to address it, for how else am I to be of any use in addressing the cracked society in which we live?  I must step into the skin of my woundedness and grow accustomed to it.  Instead of denying or cheapening it I must absorb the wisdom it emanates and fully embrace its painful wounds and allow them to heal me.  Kingdom followers should live naively thinking that this tension that we feel in life is something that has caught God off guard, He is fully aware of its existence.  As Jesus sends His disciples out He knows the tension they are about to enter and will be forced to reckon with, that is why He tells them to be as “wise as serpents, but gentle as doves.”

Jesus understood all of this. Through incarnation He entered into the narrative that we find ourselves.  Our savior, Immanuel – God With Us, immersed himself into our wounds by taking upon His own.  He did so completely exposed and vulnerable to the piercing showers of wounding arrows that life presents.  He entered pain.  He felt the separation from love.  He felt rejection and loneliness.  He understood what it meant to be so consumed by anxiety that sleep is not possible, an anxiety so great that blood passed through his pores.  Yet, in spite of all of these consequences He did so willingly.  He embraced this conflict knowing that it would present healing.  And by His stripes we are healed.

My story is one of tension. I refuse to live in an illusion that there is a way to live this life on earth that provides a way out of that.  Even further, I refuse to believe that I am not capable of entering into that tension because of inevitable failure and inadequacy.  Instead, I will wrestle with my hearts desires and the pain it feels when they are not fulfilled.  I will confront my own woundedness and transparently use it to address that which I find surrounding me.

There are no black and white twelve step solutions.

Instead,

there is

Immanuel

God – With Us

*I have to contribute much of these thoughts to two very influential books, Searching For God Knows What – Donald Miller & The Wounded Healer – Henri Nouwen, read ‘em.

A Photographic Update

Noontime Sunday Strolls in Autumn with the Family

Awkward Family Moments

No matter what, you just can’t avoid something like this happening at family gatherings.  Notice the facial expression contrast between myself and Izzy.

Spreading the Good Word

@ The Blue Door – St. Paul

After Much Anticipation, Here is My New Bicycle Mother Dearest

The latest purchase and most reliable form of personal transportation…  Starting tomorrow I’m going to man up and take on the most brutal conditions this city can muster (see below).

I am man.  Hear me roar.  Watch me freeze.

Astronaughty & Someone You Can Count On Breaking it Down

@ Halloween Dance Party

Pasta

 

Armaggedon Strikes The Homestead

 

The Little Guy Just Doesn’t Stand a Chance

A small portion of the amount others dealt with.

Isabell “Izzy” Aretha Capps

I have been learning many lessons in my new living situation, 90% of which I can contribute to Izzy.

 

*In attempting to put a handful of photos together from the last couple months of my life I realized there is a significant lackage of any substantial material.  What’s up with that?

*Much thanks to Josh Klein who took any of the photos that actually look as if someone knows what they are doing.