Manna from Poison, or My Relationship With Arby's

In 2005, I found myself one night in possession of an Arby's Market Fresh Chicken Salad Wrap for dinner. Now, mind you, I freaking NEVER eat fast food, but this was a really hurried situation, and I was like "Market Fresh? That hardly counts."

I take one bite and think to myself "this tastes weird." I take a second bite, and before swallowing turn to my company with a horrified look, dispose of the bite in my napkin and exclaim "this sandwich tastes like effing DEGREASER."

We both examine more closely, and the sandwich CATEGORICALLY has some heavy duty cleaning chemical in it. We're talking undiluted. And sure enough, within ten minutes my neck and chest are turning red and my throat is swelling shut.

So, I do what any sane poison victim would do - I get the manager on duty to sign a document vouching that the establishment has indeed fed me a sandwich with some foreign and foul substance in it. Then off to the clinic.

The Doc says, "Dang man, you're getting chemical burns all through your digestive track." They flush me out and send me on my way, but I spend the next THREE MONTHS in and out of the hospital with gastrointestinal issues, esophagitis, and some residual general gunk-in-the-system situation. We were trying all kinds of meds which were only aggravating the problem. So, I finally said enough's enough, threw out the meds, quit seeing the doctor, and did a thorough system cleanse. Just raw fruits and veggies for a few weeks and some other stuff to speed up the process. I was already feeling better within DAYS. Holla. Looyah. And as I reintroduced regular foods to my diet, I had the opportunity to really examine my diet and how different foods affect me.

The situation revolutionized the way I look at food, and I'm so much healthier as a result.  I refer often to the scenario as the strangest blessing of my life, as it has allowed me to know specifically how my body processes all kinds of foods, specifically.  I'm no longer at the mercy of what I eat, clueless concerning the reasons I feel the way I feel.  My tastes and cravings now constantly change to match the specific needs of my body.  It's liberating.  

Meanwhile, as this process is unfolding, I hired an attorney who, long story short, went around and around in circles with Arby's corporate before finally presenting me with a final settlement offer of $800 - only enough to offset about 1/3 of my accrued medical bills. I kind of told them to hose off, since I didn't even know how I'd be affected long-term and didn't want to absolve them.

Eventually, after realizing I was happy and healthy again, I decided to drop it altogether, thinking that even bitterness was a result that I was unwilling to tolerate, like the last lingering poison in my system.

Okay, now fast forward to a year ago when the story gets REALLY crazy. So I've made it to India and I'm working my tail off trying to spread a bit of love and gospel around the globe. I've dropped just a bit more coin on the whole excursion than I actually have. I've never really believed in money anyway, so no biggie, right? I decide to give my birthday away on Facebook causes to the school I was working with in Jaipur. My lovely friends and family came through and totally paid for their new building addition so the school can double in size. And the SAME WEEK, a mystery donation came in to my journey in the EXACT AMOUNT of my remaining deficit. Cool how G works, right? But there's MORE.

After some sleuthing, it turns out that the donor was an old acquaintance of my Pops, who had just happened across my page and felt compelled to contribute. It turns out the money she donated came largely her husband's job, at none other than ARBY'S CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS.

Someone wise remarked "I am constantly reminded of how incredible God's workings are intertwined in the several random, yet meticulous details of our lives."

Romans 8:28
"And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose."

So good. I've been meaning to blog this for a year.

Moments On the Road

We cannot kindle when we will
The fire which in the heart resides,
The spirit bloweth and is still,
In mystery our soul abides:
But tasks, in hours of insight willed,
May be through hours of gloom fulfilled.
-Matthew Arnold

It's been so good to be back in Nashville for these last few weeks. I'm reminded of all the people and things I love about this place. Returning has raised a deepened affection and longing, and the slim possibility of a new life here. But as I ask those questions of myself and God, I'm only affirmed in my current path to keep moving until He says "stop." This is not my town any more - I'm assured of that - and there's grief in this acceptance. And as I sit in quiet and give that grief away, I'm moment by moment flooded by the blessings the last year have held and the promise of those down the road.

I feel a sense of purpose in moving on, even yet without a concrete plan. This has been the rule of my new life. Circumstances change on the daily, and the Spirit moves without warning. This is not a stagnant life. Untaken steps cannot be guided. So I'll fill up my identity from the wellspring of life each morning and walk boldly in the direction I hear the music. The words of someone wise are ringing in my head, saying you have to put out to sea before the wind can fill your sails. Sorry to whomever said this; I'd give credit if I recalled. I just know too many too wise people, I suppose.

It's interesting interacting with people from my life before this journey, trying to catch each other up on the broad strokes of how we've become who we are, just a year later. I'm more and more convinced it's not the broad strokes that change us, but the moments. The major events in life often happen by themselves, but we're formed from the seconds and minutes between, and by the things we put in our minds and hearts as time rolls along. By our moment-by-moment responses to the life that lays before us, however inconsequential it may, in the moment, seem.

I've regaled any number of people with stories from my travels, surely leaving them with an impression far more grand than the reality of a life as it is lived in another place, not so different from here. All across the world, every person I've met breathes, laughs, longs, bleeds, struggles, loves, and wonders. It's a blessing to share a bit of life with each of them and to digest how differently one organizes his or her life depending on where it's lived. It's perhaps a greater blessing to begin to grasp what a thin layer of difference actually rests on the surface of human life. I could scratch straight through it with a hair from my weird little moustache.

I've been thinking a lot about the moments that have shaped this journey for me. There are so many epic moments, so many highs, so many pictures I'll keep in my mind forever. But when I get down to the times that have shaped me and transformed me as a person, I'm drawn to the moments that were really, really hard, when nothing was working right and, with every ounce of strength and skill I could muster, I couldn't even come close to making things right. I can't comprehend the fruit that has grown from those precious few moments where I was nothing if not broken and alone. I wrote to my friend Jaclyn during this time,

I've had so many days on this freaking journey where I wake up in the morning and the only thing I have to give is a shitty attitude, frustration about relationships and 'programming' (whatever that is) and a desire to just quit and drink myself into a stupor. It seems like it's the hardest thing to wake up and take fifteen minutes to say, "Homeboy, this is what I have to offer - bones and dust. Do your thing." Some days, by the end of that fifteen minutes He's shown that bedrock you spoke about - that foundation of goodness that lies just beneath every bit of selfishness and hardship, and I'm brought to freaking tears at new revelations of the things He took to the cross for me.

Some days, there is no such revelation, and I spend the entire morning of labour commanding my muscles to move for a promise that's greater than the resistance they give.

I'm getting the sense that these are the hours that purify the saints and condition the martyrs. It's the moments when everything in your world and your head screams you're working your tail off for a lie, and you can only inhale in prayer, and the Spirit exhales the truth on your behalf in whispers the devil cannot hush.

Any story of this journey would be incomplete without these moments. Of course it's always been about loving God and loving people, and I wouldn't go if He didn't say so and wasn't reaching others through my walk. But He's at work in me all the while. These moments gave me a new depth to understand Grace and to believe in supernatural healing and power. They broke through unmeasurable old layers of guilt, selfishness, loathing, shame, and unbelief, not burying them or pushing them off, but sinking straight to their base and letting them dissolve and crumble in the presence of pure, true love and mercy. I wouldn't trade these moments for anything.


Currently reading:

World Tour 2009

I'm starting an experiment. I've plotted points along my journey for the last year on a Google Map, and anyone can visit this map and click each point or leg of the journey to find out more about the places and activities I've been engaged with along the way. I'll continue to attach more stories, as well as begin new maps for coming adventures, but I thought I'd go ahead and post this now. Please peruse the map below, or for more detail, click the link underneath the map to visit it in a larger window.

If you're unfamiliar with Google Maps, you can use the commands in the upper left of the map to navigate (+/- to zoom, and arrows to scroll) or you can click and drag, as well as double-click to zoom.

Maybe not very many people will backtrack along with the last year, but it's great for personal processing, as well as pulling together thoughts, media, journals, and film from every stop of the way. And I know it will be fun to share events in the future more diligently.

Cheers.


View World Tour, 2009 in a larger map

Stick.

Some of my traveling mates and I came up with a sort of game one day when we were clearing brush away from the garden on our YWAM base in New Zealand. As we'd happen upon sticks of a notable size or shape, we'd examine it, name it, and hold it up declaring it's goodness for everyone to hear.

It all started when Emrie picked up a gnarled, knobby stick (really more of a limb) held it up valiantly, and dubbed it "RidicStick." Em, Jaclyn, Phil and myself began sorting, clearing, and displacing foliage in a frenzy, uncovering more and more

noteworthy finds. There was ShortStick, LipStick, and FatStick, BentStick, BurntStick, and BatStick. We must have named in excess of 300 specimens, doubling over in laughter. How I wish we had photographed and cataloged our findings. On second thought, these things usually serve as better memories for regaling than actual factual accounts. It may have been a silly game to pass the workday, but it drew upon some seriously solid principles. There was something very Genesis 2 about the whole thing - humans organizing, ruling over, and naming things of the Earth, things that God designed for our pleasure. And doing so in community, as "it is not good for man to be alone."

Days continued to pass after StickDay, but the memory lingered. For one, our vernacular had changed. Ridicstick remains synonymous with any jubilant exclamation, suitable in describing any extraordinary thing or event. But, perhaps more than that, friendships that had begun on levels of life and change and faith and humor were taking deeper root and bearing fruit, as only sheer abandonment in a common and altogether ridiculous endeavor can produce.

Weeks later, Jaclyn, Emrie, and I were walking home from a coffee/study/banter session at Seagars. I don't remember the particulars, except that there was some frustration in the air. I think it had to do with me dilly dallying and everyone around being tired of always waiting for me to wrap up some frivolous engagement. At any rate, definitively gracious and cool Emrie had walked on ahead, rightfully irritated, and I remember momentarily searching for some gesture of apology and kinship greater than words for a moment such as this. I happened upon a small, gnarled but straightish stick, hardly more than a twig, with the striking appearance of a wand from any great work of mythic fiction. Without thought, I seized it and called out to Emrie. She stopped and turned as Jaclyn and I approached with the stick. We held a sidewalk ceremony, knighting Emrie for her exemplary patience, and we bequeathed the WillowStick unto her for safeguarding. Emrie's frustration dissolved in an easily forgiving grin and we continued our walk through the idyllic Oxford Autumn air.

Winter set in as our classes drew to completion, and we made preparations for our missional deployment to the far ends of the Earth. I grew to know and love everyone in our small school of 50 or so, but you can't help but make a particular connection with just a few in such a short time. By divine design or staff's judgement, several of us who had grown especially close were each split into different teams. Phil was Africa/Asia-bound, Jaclyn would lock down the African continent, Kristi was our South American correspondent, Emrie and Katy headed for Southeast Asia, Kenny and Dan were on the Far East Asia team, and I was going to the Middle East.

Days were busy finishing studies, cleaning, and gathering essentials into packs - 'skeeter net, bible, and two pair undies ought to do. Evenings were spent in the roasty den, dining on peanut butter-cinnamon-toast, fire blazing to fight the cold through the cellophane windows. We occupied several long evenings unpacking everything that God had done in our lives to get us where we were, taking inventory of the people we had discovered ourselves to be, and speculating where our roads might lead and intersect. Someone mentioned the crassness of a mere "goodbye," and Emrie sprang into action. Producing the WillowStick from her belongings, she hurriedly broke it into 6 pieces - a piece to travel with each team, each person, in each direction, and we selected a day several months into our journeys to stop what we were doing, find a high place in whatever town we were in, and bury the WillowStick. Together. Tearful goodbyes were said as one-by-one we departed into the unknown.

I went to sleep late last night with a silent, groaning prayer for God to evidence himself in my life. I know he's there, doing his thing, as he always is. I just needed that knowledge to breach my brain and penetrate my anxiety about where I am right now. And maybe provide some peace, and a little joy if it's not too much to ask. I woke up early this morning with Psalm 23 on my lips as all these memories came flooding back.

In Ezekial 37:16, God speaks to the prophet: "And you, son of man, take for yourself one stick and write on it, 'For Judah and for the sons of Israel, his companions'; then take another stick and write on it, 'For Joseph, the stick of Ephraim and all the house of Israel, his companions.' Then join them for yourself one to another into one stick, that they may become one in your hand." God has always tended to use the natural to represent his goodness and to bind his followers together in seeking his face. In fact, that's the primary reason he created "the natural" in the first place.

1 Samuel 7 finds the Israelites on the brink of war with the Philistines, who had twice defeated Israel and seized the Ark of the Covenant. The Philistine army is encroaching, so Samuel seeks the Lord. As Sam sacrifices a burnt offering on the alter, the Philistine army is thrown into confusion by God's thunderous intervention. Verse 12: "Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen. He named it Ebenezer, saying, 'Thus far has the LORD helped us.'" This is where the hymn Come Thou Fount Of Every Blessing derives the line "Here I raise mine Ebenezer, hither by thy help I'm come." Ebenezer is a name combining the Hebrew "Even Haazer," meaning literally "Stone of Help." It's a marker in history, one's personal history or the history of a people, where a monument is raised to remind that God has a proven track record of hooking us up. We have no reason to worry. It is the Lord that delivers, and blessing comes from his hand. It's just Homeboy doing what Homeboy does.

As it was on my lips this morning, Psalm 23:4 says "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me." If God has a recorded history of using sticks and stones to exemplify his presence and action, far be it from me to discount such elements' presence in my own story. If fellowship was born on StickDay, it was tested and cemented on WillowStickDay. And if kinship when we broke bread and divided the WillowStick, then we made covenant the day the WillowStick took root around the world. In our journeys, by some degree of intention, the WillowStick was planted. In modern-day Ephesus. Erdenet, Mongolia. Argentina. Lake Victoria, Uganda. Darjeeling. Thaiwan. We remain distanced by oceans, but connected by the love of a redeeming God who brought us together and called us to a higher purpose. During the dry times, I continue to look back on God's provenance and providence and our covenant as evidence of motion and deliverance in my life. It helps me find purpose in short nights and perspective in long days. It's all the manna I need to start fresh, and more than plenty reason to smile. And that, my friends, is ridicstick.

WHAT THE CRAP AM I DOING.

Alright I'm hopped up on tea, so let's get this thing cranking before I totally fritz out. I write this evening from the void, from that place between what was and what will be, the valley between lessons and application.

Pardon the drama. I'll bring it back down to Earth.

I've been home at my folks' place for several months now. It's been, in general, really really great to connect with family quite a bit and hang with my awesome new nephew Drew and just generally "take a breather" as my Dad would say. The transitional season started off with a bang of Godly provision: complimentary car, job, and phone to use for the short-term while I generate the fundage and make preparations to hit the road again in search of further ministry opportunities on my way back to New Zealand. Man, I was so sure that's what was going to happen. I thought God's fingerprints were all over it with the way things were coming together.

Then the gears started turning more slowly. Work became infrequent as winter set in, and has now ceased entirely. Other opportunities for income have consistently not panned out. The car went away. The phone's gone. I've kept busy enough (aside from looking for more work) with a bunch of good things - from lots and lots of worship with several churches and groups, to being special guest speaker at a youth trip to Colorado in January, to all kinds of odds and ends with Perception Funding and their approaching trip to Haiti. And for some time I just felt such a fire to just encounter people wherever they are and bring them the encouragement and joy of a good God.

As this process has continued to unfold (or rather grind to a halt) I've begun to wonder what it really is I'm supposed to be doing here. It's not that I don't see God's hand in my life right now, nor that I'm not enjoying time with old friends and family in KC. It's just that everything I've learned from the last year or two seems to be driving me towards a few things: intimacy with the Creator, creation of music, serving people, and the open road. And yet here I am, an unemployed 27-year-old living with my parents without a way to get anywhere or a dime to my name. I don't doubt where I am for a second, because in faith I've stepped out in the last year, and I've seen God do incredible things. But this certainly seems to fly in the face of the definition the world gives us of a successful, together young man. I would never, ever go back to where I was before, but what the heck, am I really supposed to be at a standstill here because of something as unHeavenly as finances? I've seen Godmath turn zeros into ones and 100's into thousands in the last year, but somehow now the "almighty dollar" has its filthy little cuffs on my wrists. I don't like it. BUT . . .

God is good. God is in control. He works this stuff out all the time. I'm seeking Him, and folks are praying for me. So, it must be going down this way because God's allowing it. That leaves me wondering, am I supposed to push through this, in pursuit of what I believe to be true about this season in my life? At what point do I really start to reevaluate my trajectory? I've been waking up every day, telling God I'm placing all this on the alter, I'll go wherever he wants, stay if he says stay, do anything. What I feel I'm continually getting from him is encouragement to stay the course. And yet my circumstances are just not changing. I'm trying, I'm really really trying, to spend every day in the knowledge of what's true and good. I'm trying to lean on the promises of scripture in places like Romans 8:28, where it says " . . . we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." (NIV)

This is said so often it sounds trite. I, myself, speak this verse so many times a day that it's a struggle to keep its supernatural origin in perspective. A new light was cast today, however, when I looked at The Message translation. I've been cross-referencing more and more in my studies, finding that new language so often has the ability to dig deeper, to till soft, new soil for old, familiar concepts and scripture that's become, ugh, "colloquialism." Check it out:

Romans 8:26-28:
Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God's Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That's why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.

So, Lord, forgive my sighs of frustration. Please intercede with your spirit and, knowing my heart, guide my steps. I'll be searching tirelessly for you as I travel this beaten road toward only-you-know-where. You are so, so good in the journey, and I pray to be continually less blind to the places you appear in my midst. I'll seek to rest in the contentment and joy that comes only from you, and not from my own myopic perception of my situation. In Jesus' ridiculously all-encompassingly powerful and mind-boggling name, Amen.

Film.

So, most everyone who has a reason to read my blog probably also knows I like to make fun videos. Many of these can be found on my Vimeo. They present a narrow window to some of the things I've been up to for the last year. Feel free to check a few of them out below, or view my Vimeo channel here.

India Video Scrapbook:


Feast with Alevi in Turkey:


Colorado Trip with Kansas City Youth:


5 Habits of a World Christian:

Step Ya Game Up

I will get out of the way as God wills to infiltrate our sorry planet through my flesh. I forgive everyone. I apologize for residual suckiness from transgressions past.

I take ownership of my authority to call out evil in its tracks and send it away. I accept my responsibility to call heaven down to fill the remaining void.

I'll love when it's great. I'll love when it sucks. I'll give more love than I feel I can afford, stepping forward in faith that it will be replenished with interest gained.

I'll call pastors out when they make rules against walking in front of the crackhouse down the street. I'll point out tactfully and graciously that my Jesus is already in there waiting for us, and then I'll go look for him. THERE are some people looking for answers.

Oh, and I'll do my best not to do any crack while I'm in there, Mom.

Somehow I'm still taking myself a little too seriously in regard to societal pressures and lies, and not seriously enough concerning my identity as a creator and entrepreneur. I'll keep working on those ones.

I'll get bolder and bolder about inviting everyone around me into the fullness of this good life laid before us.

Leave.

To everyone who has said to me over the last year, "gee, I wish I could do something like you're doing - getting out, seeing the world, truly making a difference."

Do you? Do you really? Because there's really not much else to it. I understand we'll always have an infinite list of "buts." BUT, I sounded exactly like that a year ago. BUT job. BUT debt. BUT relationships. BUT fear. BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT.

I've been reading over old journals, and I'm reminded again how much work God does when you give him the space to do so.

What if I I told you that God is in absolute control of everything that you yield to his hand, and he loves you with absolute perfection - literally gaga over you - and knows absolutely what's best for you in every situation? I know a lot of us believe this, but I want us all to really try live like it's true. I know a lot of us have trouble believing it at all, but we should try living as if it were true anyway. We can't lose. Either we discover we were right and life goes on as it always has, or we start seeing evidence that it really is true. Really. And if it's really true, than it kicks BUT'S butt. No excuse not to dream big and hit the road.

I learned an important lesson from my friend KJay several years ago, and it's this: Everybody always does exactly what they want. You always have a choice. And it's not what you want, it's what you'll give up to get it. Comfort v Adventure. Stability v Growth. the Status Quo v the Extraordinary. Now if your dream-come-true is the 9 to 5 in the same ol' town, then I could almost envy you - BUT - I know I want so much more.

About this time last year, my friend Jon gave me Donald Miller's memoir Through Painted Deserts. There's some good moments, but the introduction alone hit me like a train heading out of town. It ends:

I want to repeat one word for you:

Leave.

Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.

We'll see you out there.

More Lessons in Landscaping, or Miracles in Mud

I've been feeling a bit numb, and a bit down in general lately. I think it's mostly just travel-withdrawal, so I haven't let it bother me too much. There's been moments of really cool revelation, and moments of trudgery in being "home", but in general it's just been kind of a slow winding-down. I like to think I'm gradually decompressing in the context of good family-time and good Homeboy-time out in the field doing my landscaping.

The other day I was cleaning up some newly planted trees, ankle deep in mud soup in the rain. It was a pretty crummy day for work, but I really wanted to get this job done before leaving for Grandma's farm for Thanksgiving. I was complaining my butt off to Homeboy about the job, the place I'm in, the stagnancy, the finances, blah blah blah blah blah, and really just saying If you love me, prove it. I'm such a whiny baby sometimes. What do I do, God? What am I here for? Where are you taking me?

After a while, he was like Beau, you already know this one. Start singing my name and worshipping, man. That's why I made you. So I started off just organizing ideas for some arrangements as I went about my work. Not much else to do out there anyway. I started singing How He Loves by John Mark McMillan, which brought me back to this story. Please watch at least the first portion where John explains the origin of the song.


As I played this out in my head I just started CRYING and CRYING and CRYING, and singing through the verses, letting them hit me in light of where it came from, and in light of my OWN seasons of mourning, and God was totally just ripping off the hard crusty stuff that has caked on in the last few months -- the stuff that builds up over the life he puts in us.

I was clearing this muddy soupy dirt off of the grass around the trees, and I was like FLETCH NO, I will not let you cover over my RIGHTEOUSNESS. I will NOT let you bury this life born into me with your displacement, lies, and bull. It came at too great a cost, and in Jesus' name, GET OFF. I began to ask God for help to keep me RAW, to keep tilling and hoeing and keep me muddy and messy and just please please please don't let me get too far away.

I feel like I sort of lost consciousness in this place for a while and started seeing myself in the heavens, worshipping and singing and shouting to armies marching forward. He told me somewhere in there that I already know the next step. I know who I am and why I was made, and I don't need to worry about the details of the hows and whens and wheres. I just need to start living it. NOW. He said NOW, and I just kind of snapped back to real life. Surprised, I was almost done with the trees and it was some 3 hours later. I couldn't even feel my arthritic hand, and the job was very nearly done.

The next day I was listening to Thrice on my iPod while finishing another job at South Haven Baptist Church. I paused the music to take a call, and when I turned it back on, it was somehow, inexplicably on a Bill Johnson message called He Tore The Heavens Open that just totally affirmed everything - the whole message from the day before. Entirely. Specifically. This is perplexing, because I don't even have this message in my iTunes. I'm sure Phil snuck it onto my iPod during our travels a few months ago. I've said it before, but God is totally in my iPod.

As I was packing up to leave, I walked across the parking lot with a shovel in one hand, the other hand in the air. I guess I was kind of shouting and actually feeling Heaven open up and invade the neighborhood, even while the people were probably peaking out their windows looking at me like I'm some freako, screaming with my hands in the air. Then some dude in a Jeep Wrangler and offered me a red Slushee from QuickTrip. Of course I said yes. I don't think I've ever bought myself a red Slushee before in my life, but it was SOOO GOOD. He turned out to be the youth pastor of the church, just showing hospitality to the landscape guy. We got to talking and he's having me visit his youth group later this month to share stories. Goes to show - when I conscientiously rest in God's goodness, he's pretty quick to give me opportunities to share it with others.

So, that's all fine and good. But here's what I think it means practically for me over the next few months. I think I'm going to record some of the mashups I've concieved over the last year (i.e. Three Little Birds/I Have Decided and Shallow Grave/How He Loves). STOKED about this. These songs really breathed life into my walk and into my traveling community over the last 9 months. I also hope to flesh out some of the stuff I've written on the road. I've started doing research for a good School of Worship through YWAM sometime over the next year. I've been really resistant to the idea of returning to YWAM, but I now think it would be a great way to get over my baggage about not trusting people and not liking corporate settings, and to get over thinking I'm no good. I want to get over all my crap, because that's all it is, really. And you're supposed to leave your crap in the toilet, flush it and walk away. I don't want to carry my spiritual catheter around anymore.

When it comes down to it, there's certain things about worship that I need a lot of work on. Like being able to do it, and being able to lead it, and letting it be a celebration and a declaration of God's goodness instead of just a groaning in our human depravity. It can start there, but again, I can be such a whiny baby sometimes. So I'm just approaching the possibility of another school as a natural way to walk towards my identity as a worshipper. I've not entertained the idea until now because A) it just seemed too logical to be legit and B) It would require me to leave my catheter behind, and that will undoubtedly require some uncomfortable soul-work.

My buddy Mark Parker talked about communication from the Holy Spirit in an interesting manner. He kind of made this weird gesture where he kept placing the palm of one hand on his head. He'd push it off with his other hand, but it would come back and rest gently on his head again like some strange, heat-seeking alien octopus. His point was that ideas from God can keep returning to your consciousness. They rest gently and return every time you refuse them.

I guess that's kind of how I feel about this idea of getting back into the YWAM paradigm. The few struggles I've had within their ministry structure have mostly just resulted in clarifying and rehabbing my own insecurities. And frankly, I believe my buddies and former leaders when they say there's no better way to go deeper in Christ than to continue down the road of discipleship.

In a lot of ways, this step is similar to my decision to leave my home, belongings, and the life I knew and loved in Nashville a year ago. I'm in the early stages of setting off on a new and uncertain adventure. It will require logistical and financial support that I can't provide for myself. Essentially, I have no ability to do this without God's direct involvement. Last year I was an anxious, apprehensive, tightly-wound basket case. This year I feel pretty well resigned and confident. I think it's his will. Ask me if it's happened a year from now, and I'll be able to tell you for sure.

Lessons in Landscaping, or Coming Home

I've had discussions with several people lately on the peculiar pressures of coming "home," especially from a long and rather intense season of travel. I wound up compiling my thoughts in a letter to a friend going through a similar transition the other day. It's a pretty good depiction of my current headspace, so I thought I'd share. Here's an excerpt:

Here's what I decided on Friday. Every place you've ever spent a worthy chunk of time, you leave a "you-shaped hole." It is precisely the same size and shape as the perception you left on those closest to you at that time, and your own perception of your role in that particular environment (+/-, of course, a margin for exaggeration and forgetfulness). The thing with wandering types is, we change and grow much during our exploits on the road, often not even able to keep up with our own internal progress. Upon returning to places once familiar, a natural gravity tries to pull you directly back into the vacuum left at your departure. It's awkward, and at times a bit painful, because you just don't fit anymore.

This was causing me some anxiety until the revelation that this gravity isn't real. We're citizens of the Heavenlies, free to traipse above the grasp of perceptions, fears, limitations, societal and relational constructs, and our own dogma. We're free to dream the biggest dreams we can and set them into action, and God is on our side. He likes creators, because he is one. So I'm trying more and more to divorce myself from the mundane, even as life begins to take on forms that look more familiar. I'm making lists of things I know about myself, and other lists of things I want to know about myself and the world around me. I'm making lists of things that change and things that remain. And I'm trying to see this old, familiar world through eyes that I know are new, finding new ways to bless the world around me as I soak it in to new depths.

The other thing hampering me has been the horrible always-present question, "What's Next?" And nobody wants to know more than me. Especially seeing as I've been spending my time this last week picking up odd landscaping jobs, doing the exact same things I did at my first job when I was just 14. It's humbling, and generally I think humbling things are good things. It's given me plenty of time to think and then worry and eventually remember to pray and then still ample time left over to do nothing but wait on answers. And knee-deep in mud with an aching back is a pretty good place to get revelation.

A number of my favourite people point out the relationship between the natural/physical and the spiritual, so I try to tread lightly with open eyes. Yesterday, Todd (the guy paying me to plant trees) was telling me why he's not too crazy about the type of tree we were putting in the ground. Todd said, "They grow really fast. But, they tend to forget which is their main trunk and split off in other directions. They get really unruly and hard to maintain."

It's rare that I'm hit immediately by the weight of statements concerning the growth of trees, but this was one such occasion. I felt like God was saying "I don't want you to be an unruly Red Maple. I want you to be a freaking ginormous Redwood. But that takes TIME. I've torn you up a bit. CHILL OUT. Let this stuff sink in and settle. Then the growing can happen straight and strong and purposeful."

I'm left in a peculiar tension between chapters. And I guess that's good. The pull of what's to come may keep me from getting too settled, while the warmth of the familiar could keep me from rushing ahead. So, until further notice I will remain planless, phoneless, content, and available for hire.

See also: Galations 5:5 "But by faith we eagerly await through the Spirit the righteousness for which we hope."

Bookends.

I had this on my heart the morning I left the States 8 1/2 months ago. I awoke early from a unlikely restful slumber on the love seat of my friend Lucy's Los Angeles apartment, and scribbled this like an exhale, as if I'd memorized it in a dreamscape conversation with God himself. It remains one of my favourite pieces.

Dear Church,
You do not own God.

Dear Islam,
You do not own God.

Dear Hinduism,
You do not own God.

Dear Judaism,
You do not own God.

Dear Science,
You do not own God.

Dear Philosophy,
You do not own God.

Dear Atheism,
You do not own God.

Dear Reason,
You do not own God.

Dear Law,
You do not own God.

Dear Learnedness,
You do not own God.

Dear Simplicity,
You do not own God.

Dear Commerce,
You do not own God.

Dear Service,
You do not own God.

Dear Vengeance,
You do not own God.

Dear Hate,
You do not own God.

Dear Love,
You do not own God.

Dear Existence,
You do not own God.

Dear Life & Death,
You do not own God.

Dear Heaven & Hell,
You do not own God.

Dear Truth,
You do not own God.

What thing for which man has a name
Could be vast enough to contain
The one who stood 'for everything
Who spake the sun to shine in flame
Who spake pure life from dust & rain
Spake dust & rain from stars he's slain
Who groans in planetary strain
Who whispers throughout everything
From whom all truth originates
Whose wisdom gifts, withholds, creates,
Whose divine nature permeates,
Whom minds of men his breath negates

This is the one I yearn for
This is the one I seek
This is the one who holds me up
When hope is lost and life is bleak

This is the one who wants me
This is the one who knows my bones
This is the one for whom I'd gladly
Scatter my ashes at his throne

This is the one for whom I wait
On bended knee in quiet place
And make a space for him to fill
For here he is and fill he will

He vibrates in my atoms
He trickles in my veins
He made the tongue that speaks
So let it say no other name
And if it should fall silent
Should it be still and rest today
Let ring throughout eternity
That he will have his way

It seems that through the adventures, lessons, and trials, I've only been drawn more into this frame of mind. I thought this an appropriate time to share.

Just got back to Kansas City tonight, and I'm stoked for this season. Homeboy's been saying for a while now that he's just waiting through the open door, and these first few steps seem drenched in his presence.

See also: John 15:16 - "You did not choose me but I chose you, and I appointed you to go and bear fruit."

Coptic Inquisition

Yesterday, I was kind of put on the spot in front of 50 or 60 Arabic-speaking Egyptians at an outdoor café. They asked some pretty interesting questions.

“Why are you here?” “What are you doing?” “What drives you to do what you do?”

I said a quick prayer for wisdom and discernment, because the last thing I want to do is offend anyone, much less cause a stir of violence or get wrapped up in legal issues.

What came immediately out of my mouth was a simple reflection on where I am today, compared with where I was just one year ago. The change is staggering. I never ever would have thought one year ago that today I’d be in Cairo, in the midst of traveling the world with the simple charge of finding and spreading the love of God to his people.

Quick demographic note on the people surrounding me: Many were Coptic Christians, one of the most ancient establishments of the church, dating back to the first century. They make up between 10-15% of the Egyptian population, and they are very nationalistic. I talked for a while with a dude who has both his arms inked in traditional Coptic artwork. Young Copts adorn themselves as such, in many cases, simply to proclaim “I am not a Muslim, and I am every bit as Egyptian as you, if not more.” Others in the crowd were, similarly, “cultural Muslims.” That is to say that they consider themselves Muslim because they were born to an Islamic family in an Islamic society, not because they practice or find meaning in their faith. It’s a matter of identity.

I understand this matter of identity, to some degree, so it seemed pretty relevant to discuss certain aspects of the world in which I lived before. Mine was a good, solid American life up until about a year ago. Career, Bach’ Pad, Friends, Girlfriend, Generally Nice and Well-Liked, Utterly and Thoroughly Empty. Since finishing high school and leaving home I pretty much did what every upstanding young societal member ought – degree, job, home, 401K, and generally doing whatever the crap I wanted at any given moment.

Hm. Maybe these things aren’t bad, but they’re certainly not priorities I want to have. After the experience at the café, I dug out some old journal entries to help me get back in last year’s mindset. This is one I found:

There’s an egg-timer in my chest.

It’s hooked to an alarm.

The alarm is a voice in my head that says

“It’s time to self-destruct,

to fuck everything you know.”

The only snooze is

Acquiescence.

A slow wringing.

Weeks, months, or

Years.

Followed by implosion.

I’m reminded reading this how small your world can get when you think you understand it. A manageable, fail-safe, succinct life just naturally atrophies and dies. I believe I am like most humans, if not worse. And, if I am like most humans, then we all have a condition that causes us to focus inward and ultimately become pretty loathsome creatures.

I guess that’s why I’m so freaking thankful for this journey, for deliverance from the lies I was living under. I guess that’s why there’s usually a smile on my face, and even hard and crappy situations can seem a delight. There’s just no comparison. Why would anyone knowingly live outside the perfect will of the Living God, if he or she truly knew His Goodness and Provision? How is it that the lies of our society seem to trump eternal truths born into our very soul?

Well, to wrap this up, I’ve got some great new Egyptian friends. I would have loved to have stayed and talked with them all day. The history here, their very way of life is so engaging. It’s always so wonderful having a great discussion with people you should in theory have nothing in common with, only to find that we’re all pretty much the same underneath. We parted ways with each others’ blessing and I feel that, at least today, I made good on the goal of my journey.

An Official Declaration Of The End Of My Quarter-Life Crisis

So, I'm not a kid anymore. Not that I have to be all mature or anything, but I officially can no longer allow myself to slide through life putting forth minimal effort and expecting maximum returns. I can't afford anymore to have a mindset of trying to get all I can, trying to beat the proverbial system, trying to get "ahead." I will, instead, try to help others get "ahead" when possible, and cherish my spot in line, wherever it is. When I was a child I thought like a child, and so on and so on.

This means I will chill out and not do everything within my power to be the first one at every red traffic light in order to red-line it off the line. I know that this makes me arrive at my destination with a tmj flair-up from clinching my teeth. Not cool.

I will quit referring to myself as a "spiritual infant," and expecting slack from people for not knowing what I believe. For God's sake, I've known Christ since I was tiny. Just 'cause somehow my little mind has a bunch of it confused hardly excuses rationalizing, inactivity, selfishness, and cynicism. For real, I'm sure I still have more of it mixed up than I have right, but that should leave a lifetime of room for growth.

I will seek a better balance between being down on myself half the time and thinking I'm pretty hot stuff half the time. Both are sick and prideful. I will try to be OK with myself, to the point of not worrying about myself very much of the time. WOW, how much energy will that save for worthwhile endeavors.

I will, moment by moment, ask for the grace to shift my attitude from that of entitlement to that of gratitude. If I know anything, it's that I'm entitled to nothing but a shallow grave. The fact that I'm blessed beyond measure, living a life of which most only dream should mean my lips never cease to give thanks. No more grumpiness. No more defensive responses. No more fear.

I will try to become more humble without being forced to learn the hard way. Asking for grace each morning to have my prideful pieces revealed and removed peacefully sounds a lot more productive and enjoyable than learning the tough lessons of life through a constantly breaking spirit.

I will dream big dreams, write them down, and work towards them.

That's all I got for now. I hope to add to this list as the spirit strikes.

Ruminations from the Beginning

I told an old friend that I had big things on the horizon. She asked “Where to?”

Two little words that sparked a lot of reflection.

So here’s my response, from which I spared her and opted to craft a cliff’s notes version. I thought it more appropriate to share here.

Funny to hear you speak of selling everything and driving off into the sunrise. That’s about right, and it’s really the result of a slow-burning fire, the kindling of which has been laid over the last few months or even years. The things that have led me to this place are really nothing short of miraculous. These things God has placed in my life to guide my steps are just mind-blowing. Freaking mind-blowing.

Not to oversell the story, or anything. ;)

I mean, I really only started to grasp the whole picture in the last few days, reading through old journals and ruminating on the person I was, not so long ago. I was just in this really dark place, full of doubts that I didn’t feel I should have. I mean, I was small, cynical, confused, and most of all, STUCK. I ‘liked’ my job in theory, but didn’t love it, and was craving more substance. I’d grown tired of catering to the whims of divas and devos and their A&R, management, and producers. And all for music that never really turned me on. I was in a relationship with a great girl, with whom I inexplicably could not move forward. I’d put my own music and craft almost entirely off for years in pursuit of someone else’s dream. And I’d backburned all pursuits of service and community involvement.

All this wasn’t really the problem, it’s that I was fixated on imaginary limitations on myself, my life, my work, my relationships, my finances, my career, and most importantly, my passions.

And slowly, this began to melt away, starting with an epiphany when I landed on a return flight from an epic trip to San Francisco with KJay to visit some dear friends, Megan and Brandon Baker. The plane landed with a jolt, and I pictured my then-girlfriend waiting in the terminal. The strangest thought manifested itself in my head: “Oh shit. I can’t lie to her any more.” This was a strange feeling for a guy who always strove to treat this girl with care, compassion, grace, and honesty. And this was a girl who he truly adored. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that, whatever we had (and it was genuinely great), I just wasn’t in it any more. So I let her go.

Then I began to quit tying myself up with my qualms at work and started getting a kick out of it again. By shifting my view of it to “job” rather than “life’s pursuit, all-consuming endeavor” I quit getting ticked when it wasn’t going well, when I wasn’t getting respect, when I had no time for anything else. The funny part here is that it wasn’t until I quit investing my whole worth in it that I really started kicking ass. I started seeing these label-heads and superstar artists as just people, probably a little less secure than me because of all they stand to lose. And somehow they started responding to me as a person and a friend rather than someone trying to get them to record a little song. I remember the day I realized this and thought, “damn, I should’ve quit obsessing a long time ago.”

I started lobbying for a promotion, ‘cause it seemed like I might as well be getting paid for all the ass I’m beginning to kick. Realizing this was an uphill climb, and not entirely realistic within the framework of our small company, I put in for positions at other places, but kept either not making the cut or for some reason opting out of the race. I finally figured out that none of these gigs were working out because I didn’t really want any of them. That was the moment I knew my time in Nashville had a quickly approaching date of expiration.

That week I stumbled upon this 3-month leadership and bible training program in New Zealand, followed by three months of intense travel in pockets of the third world feeding the hungry, relieving some missionaries to give them a much needed break, and just generally looking high and low for a God that I know, for the first time in a long time, is under every stone, in every set of eyes, flowing through every clean drink of water on thirsty lips.

I only had three reservations with deciding then and there that this was my path: 1) my band has finally gotten some steam and attention, with the record being completed and shows going well, 2)philosophical differences with many or most missions endeavors abroad, and 3) $$$$$$$$$.

1) So I prayed and Prayed and PRAYED for resolution and guidance. That week I more or less told the band I was taking a leave of absence, due to some strange, unrelated circumstances, and found that they weren’t the slightest bit upset, nor did I have any feelings of remorse.

2) I realized scripture doesn’t say “Figure out if you’re joining up with people who are ministering in a culturally low impact way, with a well-organized and efficient game plan, and THEN and ONLY THEN, go.” It just says “GO.” And the only real way of doing this appropriately is going to where GOD ALREADY IS and discovering ourselves already in his presence. Rob Bell had some cool things to say helping to clarify my mindset of missions as “bringing” the Gospel, as if it wasn’t already in effect EVERYWHERE.

3) Somehow, I have never been worried about raising money for missions and travel. I’ve always felt like that’s God’s domain, and he’s always come through before. However, I have some outstanding debt that I’m quite unwilling to leave the country before I get squared away, and I don’t want anyone else paying for my grievances. I did some quick research and math, and figured I could knock close to half of it out by selling all but a Jeepload of my stuff, and living rent-free with my folks for January and February and working my tail off. This still left a pretty significant ‘?’ looming. I kid not, the same DAY I told my family to be praying for guidance, I walked into my office to find a check from the owner of my company in the amount of an entire tenth of my annual salary. A letter revealed it to be a reward for hard work and loyalty, as a commendation for my humour and way with people, and as a celebration of our tenth year in business. I freaked out, jaw-dropped, and hugged him until it was awkward.

And that was pretty much all I needed.

I know I said this before, but now there’s nothing left but the going.