recognizing God

In Matthew 16:13-19, Jesus asks his disciples if they know who he is. Peter is the first to respond: "You are the Messiah, son of the Living God." I like that there doesn't seem to be any hesitation in Peter's answer. I imagine he said it very matter-0f-factly. "Is this a trick question, Jesus?" he might've asked. "You're the Messiah. We all know that."

Jesus is pleased with Peter's answer and goes on to tell him that it was the Holy Spirit that revealed this to him. This is one of the few passages in which we see the Trinity working as a whole. Jesus is declared to be the Son of God and it was the Holy Spirit's work that revealed this to the disciples.

The work of the Holy Spirit has been on my mind quite a bit lately. I'm not sure why, but I keep coming back again and again to the idea that it is the Holy Spirit that changes people's hearts, not you or I. Changing people is not up to us. We cannot create change. We can be conduits of change, we can create the environment for change, but we cannot bring that change about in someone. That fact really strips away our need/desire to 'fix' people, doesn't it? It prevents us from saying things like, "If I love him/her hard enough, they'll come around" or "If I forgive him/her often enough, they'll understand and change their behaviour." It doesn't work like that. It is not our job to change people.

Just as it was the work of the Holy Spirit that revealed Jesus' true identity to Peter, it is the work of the Holy Spirit that continues to reveal Jesus' true identity to people today.

Let's get out of God's way and let people see him instead of us!

recognizing God working in culture

Acts 17:22-28 is one of the passages that is the basis of one of my 'Theological Rocks' of Youth Ministry: "God transcends culture but uses his church to infiltrate and influence it in order to bring his light and truth to people."

These passages are about Paul speaking with the Greeks and making the gospel relevant to them. The Greeks were a very spiritual people, but they had little direction as to what they ought to worship. Worried that they might miss worshipping the correct god, they even built a monument to 'the unknown god' - just to cover their bases.

In a way, today's youth culture is a lot like that ancient Greek culture. They're very spiritual, but they have little direction as to what they ought to be worshipping. Fame? Money? Happiness? Personal ambition? Sex? Karma? Allah? Vashti? Personal enlightenment? Jesus? Now, today's youth culture doesn't erect statues and monuments to the things it worships, but they sure do talk about them a lot.

One of the very best questions in Youth Ministry is this: Why? Why do you listen to the music you listen to? Why do you hang out with the people you hang out with? Why do you engage in certain activities? Why do you watch the shows you watch? If you can think of nothing else to ask a kid, find a 'why' question.

Teenagers are at a place where they can understand and articulate their motivations for the things they do. A child does this that or the other thing because their parents tell them to or because their teacher tells them to or because that's just a part of who they are. Teenagers have a greater capacity for choice and they need to understand and accept the consequences of their choices. A child can't always tell you why they do something. A teenager should be able to.

Teenagers are also at a place where they are searching for a 'self' to adopt. It's a time of trying on a number of different personalities, testing them to see which one fits the best. The frustrating thing is that often, that personality is chosen for you by others, especially at high school. You're the smart one, the athletic one, the artsy one, the druggie, the geek, the popular one. And it's strange, but even though everyone else around you is in the process of trying on personalities, no one lets anyone out of the molds that have been decided for them.

Which is why I always say that everything changes after high school. You finally have the freedom to figure out who and what you really are, without the pressure of a high school environment.

But that's a long road to get to my point - teenagers are searching. Just like the Greeks, they're searching for something to put their faith in. We need to recognize and acknowledge that search, the way Paul did in Athens. And then we need to tell them what it is they've really been searching for - a God who loves them unconditionally and who wants to be a part of their lives.

Their 'unknown god' is none other than Jesus Christ!

loved by God

I think it's fair to say that we all want to feel loved...by our families, by our friends and by a 'special someone'.

Today's passage from John 15:9-11 is part of a whole speech from Jesus that has come to mean a lot to me. It's from his last 'pep talk' to his disciples before he was led off to die. After their last supper together, they went and walked to the Mount of Olives, on of Jesus' favorite places to teach them. I can imagine Jesus feeling kind of anxious. He knows what's about to happen and he also knows that his disciples just really aren't entirely ready for it. He knows that Judas is about to betrya him. He knows that Peter is about to deny him. He even knows that Thomas will doubt the resurrection. I imagine he felt like he needed to cram in some last lessons before the circus of his last moments on earth started.

What strikes me is that he doesn't give them a quick overview of his leadership style or instruct them on how to run various programs for their ministry. Instead, he tells them to abide in his love. And how do they abide in his love? By following his commands. What is his command? Love each other.

Love. To abide in Christ's love for us, we only need to love each other. Nothing could be more simple or more profound!

I am deeply grateful that Jesus' last instructions to his disciples was not a to-do list. It is an invitation to abide in him. To exist as a part of him. I need that reminder. So often I try to do things out of my own self and in my own strength. It's exhausting. I need to remember that my calling is to abide in the love of Christ. To choose to be more with him than to do more for him.

I need to think about the relationships that I'm in and evaluate how much I love the people given to me. Do I love them as Christ loves me? No, not entirely. But if I seek to be with Jesus more, I think I will, by default, love others more.

It's good to be loved.

darkness

Today's passage is just one line:

Jesus said to the crowds, "I have come as light into the world, so that everyone who believes in me should not remain in the darkness."
John 12:46-47

I believe in Jesus and it gives me great light - insight into my own life, insight into God's will for me, insight into what God is doing in the world.

But some days can feel very dark.

I don't know the origins of the passage or other ways it has been interpreted, but one of words that struck me in this passage was 'remain'. We should not remain in darkness. It doesn't say that everyone who believes in Jesus will leave the darkness behind them forever and ever, but that we should not remain in darkness. As though rather than walking away from the dark, we instead just turn our backs to it. It makes me think that maybe we can still sense the darkness, creeping at the edges of our vision, clawing at us, trying to envelop us again.

Some days, when I forget to focus on the light, the darkness at the corners of my eyes seems to creep in around me and make me forget that I am now a child of the light. I don't turn away from the light, but I'm distracted by the darkness at my back.

But I don't remain in the darkness. The darkness has no hold over me anymore. I believe in Jesus so the darkness can only distract me, it can't remove me from God's love.

When you feel dark, remember whose light you live in!

teachable moments

Today's story is from Acts 8:26-39. It's one of my more favorite 'post-Jesus' stories. The disciple Philip is told by God to go to a certain road. There, a chariot drives by him and he hears that its passenger is reading aloud from the book of Isaiah. He hears from God again that he should go and talk to this person. So he runs to catch up with the chariot and asks, "Do you understand what you're reading?"

It's funny to me that the eunuch bascially says, "Of course I don't understand it!" It makes me wonder why he was reading the passage in the first place. But it's a huge opening for Philip - all but an invitation to instruct the man.

This is what my youth professor would call a 'Teachable Moment'. One of those rare spaces in time where you've got something to say and the person you're talking to is ready to hear it. I've found that you can't create teachable moments - you can create an environment that encourages them, but you can't create the moment itself. Those, I think, come from God.

In youth ministry, that's the thing we always have to be looking for - those teachable moments where the kids say, "Of course I don't understand!", inviting us to teach them the Good News of Jesus.

As I write this, I wonder whether TYN might be at a very teachable place right now. The kids are used to our Bible Study routines and seem to be craving something more or different. Here are some brainwaves I'm having right now that I'm gonna post:

• In the fall, instead of preparing a bible study for the kids, break them into groups and help them write their own bible studies that they would then present over the next few months.
• Have a prayer concert (where you spend almost the entire two hours praying) with prayer rooms and group prayers and worship and stuff.

That could be fun. Those things might foster more teachable moments! Something for you guys to think about anyway...

never enough

The more I read the Bible, the more I appreciate the disciples. They are just so...human! These followers of Christ, these extra-special people are some of the most dense, confused and hypocritical people in the entire Bible. I love that the Bible doesn't hide that. It doesn't gloss them over and only tell us the good things about the disciples - it tells us when they totally suck too!

In the Catholic calendar, today is St. Philip and St. James' day, so naturally today's passage (John 14:6-14) is about St. Philip. Philip says to Jesus, "Show us God, then we'll be satisfied." I feel that way sometimes, especially when I feel like my life is out of control or I have experienced a series of bad events. I feel like crying out, "Just show yourself to me, God! Let me see you so I can know you're really there and you're really taking care of me."

It's one thing to talk the talk. It's easy to say that God is always with us. It's easy to say that God takes care of us. But when the rubber hits the road and tragedy strikes or sickness hits or you don't have enough money to pay your bills that month, just saying that God takes care of you doesn't seem to be enough. You want proof. You want a solution, healing, cash - not now, right now! If that would happen, then I'd be satisified. Then I'd know you were really there, God.

I love Jesus' response to Philip. "Have I been with you all this time and you still don't know me?" Jesus walked with Philip. He talked with Philip. He performed miracles in front of Philip. He prayed with Philip. But it wasn't enough. All Philip could see was the way the disciples were treated by the Pharisees and he wanted reassurance. His question to Jesus proves that Thomas wasn't the only doubting disciple. He wanted to see God, to know that who and what he was following wasn't some grand hoax.

"Have I been with you all this time and you still don't know me?"

Isn't it the same with us? We've seen God work in our lives and the lives of the people we know. We've seen him come through in some of the worst situations, bringing comfort and healing and hope. Heck, I've even seen him take care of my finances time and time again. And yet it's still not enough some days.

We already know that life on this earth is not guaranteed to be easy just because we're Christians. We live in a broken, sinful world, full of pressure to worship things and lifestyles other than Christ. But Jesus is with us and he works all things for the good of those who love him. All things - the good stuff and the bad stuff - are in God's control.

How then can we say, 'Show us the Father'? Do we not believe that Jesus is in the Father and the Father is in him? Those days when we are not satisfied with God, when we want proof that he's there, we need to look to the cross again and again and again until we remember and are convinced that Jesus really is enough.

abuse

Acts 7:55-8:1 - the stoning of Stephen.

Apart from Jesus, Steven was the first martyr for the Christian faith. As a North American Christian, I don't think a lot about martyrdom. My life isn't in danger here because of what I believe. I'm protected. I can more or less say what I want, worship where and to whom I want and pray to my God whenever I want (even in a public school if I'm so inclined). I don't worry about being beaten or killed for what I believe in.

That's not the case for many Christians. Many Christians rely on stories like Stephen's just to endure the hardships they face every day. They need to look to someone like Stephen to assure themselves that even though their fellow humans may hate them to the point of wanting to kill them, God does not. God loves them completely and unconditionally.

I own the book 'Jesus Freaks' by the organization called the Voice of the Martyrs. It's powerful and disturbing and shows me one of the things I miss as a North American Christian. I miss the gut-wrenching, life-or-death need for Jesus that these people experience every day. I miss this, but I don't want it. I have no interest in being in those kinds of situations.

In many ways, I feel that the persecuted church has an easier time living as Christians than the non-persecuted church. Why? Well, think about it. If you're gonna risk your life, you wanna be really, really sure about what you're risking your life for. I honestly don't think that persecuted Christians made their decision to come to Christ lightly. They know what they're up against. Once they've made their decision, there really aren't many more choices after that. They could deny their faith and become like the people persecuting them or not. Risk my life or become a killer. Somehow, risking ones life actually seems like the better option to me. And if you're risking your life to that extent, then clinging to the promise of the gospel that Jesus will reward you and that you will go to heaven where no one will persecute you is a pretty gratifying thing.

In North America, however, there are thousands of other choices apart from Christianity. I don't risk very much by becoming a Christian. It's not a life-or-death decision (in this life, anyway). And if one does decide to become a Christian, there are so many things that can distract you and lure you away. There's less of a sense of urgency about being a Christian in North America.

I think in some ways, there is a more of a danger in North America of becoming like Saul. In the story of Stephen, he stood by and watched people stone Stephen to death. People lay their jackets at his feet and he stood there and approved. He was a good Jew. He had it made. Nothing to worry about. No one waiting to stone him. Thing was, technically, Stephen was a good Jew too. A good Jew with a new revelation.

God forbid that the non-persecuted church stand by and watch their fellow Christians be killed. Let's not forget those for whom Christianity is a life-or-death decision.

Want to get involved? Click here to write a letter to a prisoner.

the servant king

The story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples (John 13:12-16) is one of those that hits me in the gut every time. Jesus' act of humility throws a glaring light on my own unwillingness to be humble. I have to sit there and watch my Savior and Lord act as a slave and wash feet. Stinky, smelly, dirty feet. And then I have to hear him when he says, "I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you."

We all know Jesus was not a 'king' in the traditional sense of the word. Jesus did not want power over otherh people. He wanted influence. His desire was to influence us to serve each other. To think of others before ourselves. No one achieves power that way - not even 'benevolent' kings. That's not how the heirarchy functions.

In some ways, top-down leadership is easy for those that follow. You do what the main guy says and that's that. No questions, no nothing. Do it or else.

Jesus' leadership is not like that. He shows the way and then says, my child, it's up to you. I have shown you my example. Follow it or don't. My kingdom is about love.

I think, like the Jews at the time, there's a part of us that wants Jesus to be the knight in shining armor who takes down the enemy with unprecedented skill and aplomb. We love the resurrection because it's victory! Up from the grave he arose, with a mighty triumph o're his foes! Jesus comes back from what seemed like utter defeat to reign supreme!

That is part of the story. What we miss is that Jesus allowed his defeat. He didn't have to sit there and take the accusations thrown at him. He didn't have to let the guards so easily arrest him. He didn't even have to let Judas betray him. He had many opportunities, even apart from being God, to put an end to what was going on. But he didn't. He willingly suffered. He willingly died. He willingly washed his disciples feet. He conquered, but it wasn't by the sword or even an advanced heavenly form of martial arts. It was by submitting to defeat. It was by deliberately losing.

He suffered so that we could never say, 'You don't know what it's like.'

He endured God leaving him so we could never say, 'I feel so alone.'

He accepted defeat so we could never say 'You've never been there.'

He walked the road to the cross so that he could tell us, 'I know what it's like. I've felt that alone, I have been there. I endured for you and I ended up conquering! Put your hope and your trust in me.'

weary

I have been away from this for too long. It occurs to me that the longer I go without making time to sit and be with God, the more tired and weary I become. I start to feel fragmented and pulled apart, never whole.

I have not succeeded in my lenten sacrifice, giving up my need to do things. I started out okay, but I haven't ended well. Now it's the passion week and I'm left feeling more tired than I was at the start of lent. It's discouraging. What is it in me that feels so obligated to people? Why do I feel like I 'owe' so many when, if I were really dealing in a strict sense of debt and recompense, there are far more people that 'owe' me than the other way around? I don't know.

Caring too much about what other people think of me and wanting desperately for everyone to like me are my bigger flaws. Flaws I'm usually able to gloss over with the sheen of 'selflessness' and 'helpfulness'. When these flaws become exposed for what they really are - selfishness and a lack of reliance on God - I feel very vulnerable and broken.

Today's passage in Isaiah 50:4-7 at first glance looks like an argument for Christians being doormats for others. Read it a little more carefully, however, and you begin to see that it's more of an argument for complete and utter reliance on God.

I get stuck on the second half of the passage that talks about Isaiah allowing himself to be abused by others and I wonder...is that what the Christian is called to? To just endure all the abuse hurled at him or her? But then I go back to the beginning of the passage and realize that Isaiah was not a passive bystander who people randomly abused. He was the mouthpiece of God. God taught him, gave him the words to say and the audience to say it to and Isaiah was faithful and obedient to these tasks.

So why, then, the abuse? Well, Isaiah knew how to sustain the weary with a word, but the weary didn't always want to hear it. Sometimes the weary are ornery, frustrated and angry and don't want to hear anything from anyone, no matter if it will sustain them or not. I know I feel weary right now and quite honestly, I don't want anyone trying to 'cheer me up.' I'm quite content to be weary and sullen right now, thank you.

I guess that makes me the abuser rather than the abused right now, doesn't it? Hmm. That's disconcerting.

Looks like I've got a lot of reconnecting with God to do this week...

trust

When Vergil & I got married, we chose a passage from Matthew about not worrying; about trusting God for our needs. We come back to that verse often when we're in stressful times. It reminds us that God is in control and that we can count on him to take care of us.

Today's passage is from Jeremiah 17:5-8 and it reminds us of the same thing. If we only trust in ourselves, we will never see relief when troubled times come. If we refuse to look to God, the 'drought' or the desert will seem to last forever. However, if we rely on God and trust him, we will prosper. We will be like trees planted near water that never worries about droughts.

I need that reminder all the time. My trust is in God who orders all things for good. That's not to say I will never experience hard times. It's not to imply that nothing bad will ever happen to me. My trust in God goes beyond my experiences here in this world. It has to because sin always marrs goodness. My trust in God has to go all the way to heaven when God will make everything right. Then I'll experience true justice. Then I'll experience true peace. Then I'll experience complete belonging.

Some days its hard to trust. Some days I find it extremely difficult to believe that anything good can come from the crap situations I find myself and my friends in. But I don't trust God in the vain hope that things will be made right in this life. I trust him to make things right in the next.

In the meantime, I have to choose every day to trust him with all the little things. That's often harder than trusting him with the big stuff. The big stuff is overwhelming - I don't want to keep those worries for myself. The little stuff I always try to convince myself I can manage on my own. But in the end, I need to trust God with that too.

What do you need to learn to trust God with?

doing vs. being

I think I have already established that I get a sense of accomplishment out of 'doing' things. This lent, I'm trying to give up my need to do so much stuff. Not that I'll just sit back and be completely lazy and useless for 40 days, rather, I want to seek to be content with who I am instead of what I do.

Sometimes passages in the Bible can feel very conflicting to me when it comes to this issue. There are many passages that instruct us to do good things, like today's from Isaiah 1:16-17. The instructions are clear - do good. Doing good in the Bible almost always referrs to caring for others. It's always about the second half of the ten commandments - the 'love your neighbour' part.

The thing I often forget, however, is that the 'love your neighbor' part of the ten commandments is completely futile (and sometimes impossible) if you don't follow the first half, the 'love the Lord your God' part.

If you love someone, you want to please them. I love Vergil so I do things to show him I love him. I want to please him. I want him to see by my actions that I love him. It's the same with God. If we really love him, we'll want to please him. We'll want to show him by our actions that we love him. And it's funny, but the way we show him that we love him is to love each other.

We cannot make God love us any more or any less than he already does. But our responsibility is to show him our love for him. That's why we need to do good.

So, here's me - someone who feels better or worse about myself based on the things I do. So how do I reduce that tendancy? I think what I need to do is focus on God's love for me. If I commit to thinking about that, then I won't be so focused on trying to 'earn' his love by what I do. Then the good things I do will flow out of who I am - a person loved by God.

I feel a little rambly and tired this morning. I'm sorry if this blog didn't make any sense today. :o)

avoiding conflict

Most people who know me know how much I hate confrontation. I can discuss just about any issue and I can even get passionate about stuff, but if I sense that the 'discussion' is moving towards a fight, I back right off and don't look back.

People think it's weird that Vergil and I have never had a fight in our 7 years together. There are multiple reasons for that, but some of them are that a) we're communicators. We talk about stuff all the time and therefore don't typically have any miscommunications to fight about. b) We have very similar personalities. We think alike on most issues and those that we don't agree don't really affect our relationship anyway. c) I hate conflict. I get upset when other people fight, so you can fair bet that I avoid it in my own relationships.

All this is really a side bar to today's passage (Luke 6:36-38). It's still early, so I don't know if my thoughts are going to be very connected. Anyway, I shall ramble on. Today's passage is a bit of a mantra of mine. It's the one I refer to when I'm in especially sticky moral dilemmas such as homosexuality. It's a good out - 'do not judge and you will not be judged; do not condemn and you will not be condemned.' This passage saves me from conflict by allowing me not to take a firm stand on a number of people-related issues.

However, as I think about it, I realize that I'm guilty of not applying this mantra to much of my everyday life. I judge people all the time based on what they wear, their hairstyle, the peculiar angle of their nose and the way they behave in the 2 seconds I observe or hear about. "That girl is a ho." "That guy is a dude." "Sports commentators make me want to cut my ears off."

I'm two faced. I only use this verse as a fail-safe for avoiding conflict. I don't always apply it to the rest of my life. I need to guard my mouth and my thoughts to be sure that I am truly being merciful. That I am withholding judgement and condemnation. That I am seeking to forgive, even if it means letting that guy cut me off without flipping him the bird.

And, as always, Jesus' teaching is harder than it first appears. It seems fine and easy in theory but to put it into honest practice is a whole other ball game. But you know what? I want that 'good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over,' poured into my lap.

"If you give, you begin to live...you begin...you get the world!"

judgement

Today's passage (Matt. 25:34-40) is another of those teachings of Jesus that always makes me a little uneasy. The separation of the righteous from the unrighteous. The judgement of the good and the bad. The decision that determines where you end up - heaven or hell.

Jesus talks about the righteous helping those who are in need. Clothing the naked, welcoming the stranger, caring for the sick, visiting the prisoner. Whatever we do for the least of these, we do for Jesus. Passages like this remind me that I'm not doing enough. I have not clothed a naked person (yes, I've given old clothes to the Salvation Army, but you'd be hard-pressed to find any naked people roaming the streets in the middle of a Winnipeg winter). I don't remember the last time I welcomed a stranger (yes, I welcome new TYNers, but they're not exactly strangers, are they?). I don't care for the sick (yes, I have taken care of my grandparents when they are not feeling well and have many times brought flowers or food for my friend who was all but living in the hospital for a while there, but that's stuff that I would do anyway). And I've never visited anyone in prison (okay, I have a friend who's dad is in prison (wrongfully, I might add) and I care for her, but again, something I would do anyway).

I notice my familiar theme again - 'I'm not doing enough'. As though my salvation depends on the things I do. I know better. I'm smarter than that. I know there's nothing I can 'do' to make God love me any more or any less.

And yet, I still feel inadequate. I could go out and do all the things that Jesus instructs - but somehow, I know I would be doing it just to make myself feel better.

One of the things that really struck me in this verse today was when Jesus describes the response of the righteous. They didn't know they had done all these things. They just did them because it's something they would do anyway. Almost like when Jesus points these things out to them, it's the first time they've heard of it. "When did we do all of that?" they wonder.

It makes me realize that righteousness is not earned. Instead, it flows out of relationship with God. It arises out of the understanding of what Jesus' death and resurrection really means. Righteousness does not mean 'doing' good things all the time; that's the kind of behaviour Jesus raged agains in the bible. Doing good things for the sake of appearing good.

Rather, righteousness is a shift in personality and attitude that God grants us when we accept Jesus into our hearts. We do good works not because we want to look good but because it's something we would do anyway. It's part of who we are. It's part of the new creation that God has made in us through the death and resurrection of his son.

I think I need to think about that more this lent, since I'm trying to give up my need to do things. Why do I need to do so much? Is it to make myself look good or is it because that's who I am?

Definitely a point to ponder...

egomaniac

It doesn't take me long to think of at least ten people I would consider to be egomainiacs. People who are so self-obsessed that they make you feel bad about yourself just by giving you 'that look' out of the corner of their eye.

They make me very angry.

And then I think to myself of something I have found to be very true - you hate the most the thing you do yourself. Does that mean I'm an egomaniac? Sometimes. Not that I outwardly show it, necessarily, but there are times when I catch myself thinking that I'm most definitely better than a lot of other people. I fish for compliments. I dig around to find out what good things people think of me. I pat myself on the back every time I do something I know someone would admire.

Today's passage is similar to one I talked about a couple weeks ago. It's Jesus instructing us to deny ourselves, take up our crosses and follow him.

Lent is about denying yourself something. I've decided to try to give something up that's a little more difficult than giving up my morning tea. I'm going to try to give up my need to do things and my need to be successful. I'm going to try to learn how to rest in God.

This is something that's a constant struggle for me because it means denying the egomaniac part of me. It prevents me from finding my self-satisfaction in the things that I do and forces me to boast in God rather than in myself. It forces me to slow down and get out of God's way so that he can do his work without me trying to control the whole situation.

What are you denying yourself this lenten season? What does the cross you are bearing look like as you follow Jesus?

lent

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. It's the day where we're supposed to commemorate Jesus' sacrifice for us by giving up something we feel has a hold over us for 40 days - from now until Easter.

Vergil decided he was going to give up Starbucks and coffee, but I couldn't think of something to give up myself. Coffee? I stopped drinking that this past summer. Tea? I really only have one cup a day. Besides which, it's good for me. Sugar? I haven't done enough pre-planning to do that. Smoking? Not a smoker.

Today's reading from Joel 2:12-14 is about repentance. Turning back to God with our whole hearts. The 'Need Inspiration' section invites the reader to give up the things that have a hold on our lives. So what has a hold on me? The only thing I could think of was the chaos of my life.

How do I give up my life? How do I give up all the things I'm doing for 40 days? I can't not go to work. I can't not go to Youth. How do I give up the craziness that I've been feeling recently? How do I let go of the chaos in my head when I have so much to do?

Weird, no? I think so. I feel very torn about this year's lent. Normally, lent passes and I don't even know when it started. This year for some reason I'm very conscious of it. Like it smacked me in the face. I can't figure out why.

Maybe I'm being called to something. The trouble is, whenever I think about 'being called' my brain instantly goes to thinking it's something I need to do.

Maybe that's it. Maybe I need to give up my need to do stuff. Maybe I need to give up (again) the importance I feel when I get things done. Maybe I need to take more time to rest and be with God. Maybe that's what I'm being called to this lent.

Vergil and I are going to try to rest this weekend. I hope that can be the start of a 'restful' lent for me. Will you remember to pray for me? I'd appreciate it.

What are you being called to give up this lent?

God-shaped hole

This passage (Mark 10:17-22) has always had a way of breaking my heart. I don't know what it is. Maybe I see myself in the rich young man (as poor as I feel) or maybe I worry that I would be like him in the same situation.

It's interesting to me that when the young man asks Jesus what he needs to do to gain eternal life, Jesus gives him the 'love your neighbor' portion of the ten commandments: no murder, no adultery, no stealing, no false witness, no defrauding, honor your parents. The young man says that he's done all these things since he was young.

I wonder what the man's demeanor was like. Had he reached a point of desperation in his life? Had he tried to buy happiness and contentment and found it lacking? Had he tried leading a 'good' life and found it unfulfilling? His response, "Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth," sounds desperate. I imagine there was a note of pleading in his voice. Please, please, tell me what will fill me up. Tell me what will make this emptiness in my heart go away.

Jesus looks at him and loves him. He sees the God-shaped hole in the young man's heart. He sees somone who longs for something more.

But I think Jesus also saw the giant chain around that God-shaped hole. The man had tried to lock his possessions into that hole and had convinced himself that without those things, he would have no worth. No meaning.

Jesus asked him to unlock those chains. He asked him to let go of the things that prevented God from filling in the hole in his heart. He asked him to obey the 'love the Lord your God' portion of the ten commandments. He even reassures the man that if he gives away his earthly possessions, he will be reimbursed in heaven.

But the young man can't do it. He can't let go. Those things, those chains have become something of a security blanket. He believes that they keep him together, that without those chains, everything would fall apart. He would cease to be.

We are built with God-shaped holes in our hearts and only God can fill that hole. As I think about myself, I wonder what chains I have fashioned to try to force other things into that hole. My ministry perhaps? My ambition? What am I unwilling to unlock so that God can fill that hole completely?

It's a scary thing to let go. It's terrifying to unlock those chains because that hole holds our identity and contentment, both things that God can give us completely if we let him. If we choose to not lock him out.

As leaders, we have to more quickly come to the place of letting go so that God can fill that hole in our hearts. We have to come to the place where God and only God satisfies us. I say 'have to' because it is exceedingly hard to encourage anyone else to let go and unlock their chains if we can't do it ourselves.

Run an audit of your heart. What are your chains? What do you need to let go of? Addictions? Possessions? Achievements? How can we help each other let go so that God can more fully come in?

Jesus doesn't force us to let God fill in that hole. He let the young man walk away. He didn't chase after him. Jesus will never force us to do anything. He will ask us to do things out of love for him, but we are free to choose not to.

Just remember, if we choose to unlock our chains and let go of the things we hold in our God-shaped holes, we will gain treasure in heaven. We will gain freedom. We will gain contentment and identity.

Best of all, we get God.

salt and stumbling

I've decided that today's passages (Mark 9:41-42, 50) really defines the philosophy of my life and my faith. They talk about two things: stumbling blocks and salt. What do the two have to do with each other? Well, not much at first glance but a whole lot if you take a little time to think about it.

Jesus commands us not to put a stumbling block in front of 'these little ones'. What does this mean? I always take it to mean that we, as Christians, must never ever ever do anything to prevent people from coming to God. We must never think ourselves as so good or so righteous that we exclude others from God's love. I don't ever want someone to look at me and think, "God must love her more because of this or that." I don't ever want someone to see the things I do and think to themselves, "I could never do that, therefore I am not as good." I don't want these things because I share two things with everyone in the world: I am sinful and God is love.

When you strip everything else away, that's all you're left with. We are sinful and God is love. We're all broken. We're all damaged goods. We all make bad choices. But God is love. God loves who we are because he created us. Once we REALLY begin to understand these two concepts, that's when we find hope. That's when we start to realize that our mission is not to be 'good' people. Our mission is to be God's people and to show his love to this sinful world.

The other part of this verse is about salt. I don't know much about salt except that it makes your food taste better, melts ice off roads and can be used to preserve fresh foods. The weird thing about salt is that inspite of the fact that it has it's own taste, what it really does is bring out the truer flavor of the food. Too much salt and you notice it, but just enough and you don't even know it's there.

As Christians, we need to be salty. We need to bring out the true flavors of God's world. God created the world perfect. We're the ones that messed it up. But we can work to regain that perfection. We can be God's salt that begins to reveal the true flavors of this world.

The one other thing that struck me from this verse was the instruction to "Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another." Getting along and being at peace seems to contribute to good saltiness. Interesting.

I hope that I can be salt and not a stumbling block.

self-absorbed

You may not think that self-absorbed would be something used to describe me, but it is. I'm ridiculously self-absorbed. I like the attention of a job well done. I like when people tell me I'm good at things. I like when people find me attractive or smart or funny. I want the whole world to see me in a certain light and I go out of my way to make sure they do. I don't advertise my faults. I don't tell people how bad of a procrastinator I really am. They don't see all the jobs I half-arse. They don't see when I needlessly snap at Vergil because I'm in a bad mood.

I'm my own ultimate spin doctor and I hate to say it, but I'm good at my job.

In the end, we're all self-obsessed, self-absorbed, self-serving and selfish. Our sinful nature allows us to be no other way.

But what do we do to counter this? What steps do we take to become less self-absorbed? I think Jesus gives an answer in today's passage (Mark 9:30-37). He says,

Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.

Jesus wants us to look beyond ourselves and our own selfish ambition. He wants us to look to children, to the disenfranchised, to the needy and unwelcome among us. When we do that, we stop thinking so much about ourselves. When we do that, we become more like Jesus.

It's interesting to me how Jesus took very little care of himself in the ways we tend to take care of ourselves. We never hear about him going out to buy music or clothes or even food. The one thing we do hear is the times when Jesus goes away to be with God, his father. That's how Jesus takes care of himself - he plugs into his Father.

Jesus seems to put little stock in obsessing about self. His focus is on ushering in the kingdom of God. His focus is on touching people's lives so that they can be complete and whole again.

What can I do to be more like Jesus? What can I do to become less self-absorbed? I think I'm gonna start looking for more opportunities to welcome 'one such child' to start...

a high calling

Today's passage (Mark 8:34-9:1) is a hard one to swallow. Jesus calls us to 'take up your cross and follow me.' When you sit and ponder what this means, you begin to realize that Jesus is not just asking us to follow him in his way of suffering, but all the way to death itself.

At our retreat, we went through some of the Catholic Stations of the Cross. This was a tangible way for us to understand what it really means to 'take up our cross.' The cross was not a pleasant instrument. It did not give Jesus' audience warm fuzzies when he referenced it. The cross was an implement of torture and death. Those who were executed on it were some of the worst criminals of their time: serial murderers, violent sex offenders and the like. The cross was not a 'humane' way to execute people, either. It was brutal and just about as unmerciful as you could get. It was not a quick death. It was a slow suffocation in extreme pain. It sometimes took days for the person to die.

And this is what Jesus calls us to. The road of suffering. The road of death. Why would he ask this of us? Didn't he die so that we could live? Yes. But he died so that we could live in right relationship with God, not so that we could go on our merry way and have everything be neat and perfect. Following Jesus costs us everything. It demands our death - death to ourselves, our selfish ambitions, our disregard for others. But if we lose that life, we gain a new one. We gain a life we can't even imagine.

We gain freedom because we're able to give and recieve forgiveness.

We gain access to God in all his glory. Following Jesus down the road of suffering and to death also includes following him into glory. You can't just saunter into the glory without everything that comes before it. You can't turn your eyes away from the suffering of your Jesus, thinking, 'Why would he let himself be humiliated that way?' and assume you can still follow him.

It makes me wonder again - is true joy possible without suffering? I don't think the two can exist seperately.

Christianity is a high calling. Following Jesus is not always pretty. Yes, we get to experience forgiveness, miracles, healings and the like, but we also experience suffering. Rejection from a world that believes in a 'Me First' philosophy. Sometimes we're even rejected by the people closest to us.

But there is a payoff. We get to experience God's glory. We get to throw off the sin of this world and run like little kids into our Dad's arms to be loved completely and forever.

I can't wait.

the paradox of suffering

I've been thinking a lot this week about why bad things happen to good people. A good friend of mine just found out some really bad news regarding her dad. He has to endure something that he doesn't deserve. He is being punished for something he didn't do and I can't figure out why. Why did God not intervene? Why did God not bring his justice when it was needed the most? I can't answer those questions and it bothers me.

And then I read the story in Mark 8:27-33 where Jesus asks his disciples about who they say he is. Peter is the first to answer, "You are the Messiah." Jesus then immediately begins to talk about all the suffering that the Messiah must endure. I can imagine how conflicted the disciples must have been hearing about that. Their understanding of 'Messiah' had nothing to do with suffering. They believed the Messiah would be a conquerer, a king - someone who would destroy their oppressors in a blaze of glory.

Only trouble was, Jesus' blaze of glory had nothing to do with the death of Israel's enemies and everything to do with his own death.

Peter can't stomach the things Jesus is saying. "Don't, stop, please. You're scaring the men. You're not going to die. You're not going to suffer. You're the Messiah! God wouldn't let that happen."

And Jesus rebukes him. "Get behind me, Satan. You are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things."

My humanity prevents me from seeing things from God's point of view. I want instant gratification. I want all my friends and loved ones to be protected from pain and suffering. I want God to put a force field around me and all Christians so that they never have to endure any kind of hurt. But that's not the way it works. Even my Jesus had to suffer. Even my Jesus had to hurt. Even my Jesus had to die.

Life on this planet will never be free of suffering. Adam and Eve's choice to sin ensured that. Jesus' choice to suffer and die, however, ensures that Christians are not bound to suffer forever. Our pain and hurt are temporary. The injustices we endure at the hands of our fellow humans will not be repeated in heaven. In fact, they'll be straightened out in heaven.

The war has been won, definitively. Satan has no power over us anymore. That doesn't mean he won't still try to hurt us, though. When we set our mind on divine things, we begin to see our suffering for what it really is - the work of an angry, defeated enemy. We begin to see that our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms (Eph. 6:12).

Fight on.

asking for a sign

Today's passage is about the Pharisees asking Jesus for a sign. They want him to prove to them that he is who he says through something earth shattering and unusual.

The people he has healed are not enough. The truth of his message is not enough. His miracles are not enough. I have to wonder - what would have been enough for them? Destroying the Romans who were occupying Israel? Exalting the Pharisees to the right hand of God? What? What would it have taken?

Sometimes I want a 'bigger' sign. Sometimes watching the sun rise or the seasons change is not enough. I want tongues and miracles and healings and spiritual drunkenness and the ability to see angels. I want something spectacular and surreal.

But that's not the point of our God. The point is not to want these things. The point is to want him. To want him and love him above all else. The 'special' signs are not bad or evil, but they're not distributed so that people can 'know for sure' that God is who he says he is. They are distributed so that those who know him and love him completely and above all else can experience him anew.

I think God revealed himself to us this weekend. I think he poured out his spirit on our retreat and spoke to the hearts and minds of the youth that were there, whether or not they even realized it was happening.

God will meet us where we are. We just need to come wanting to meet him, not wanting some dramatic experience to make us feel special. We're already special! We're bought and paid for and that's about the most dramatic thing you can imagine!

crumbs from your table

You might think I'm quoting a U2 song today and that's mostly true. Today's scripture reading is the basis of that song, though. It's about a Gentile woman who comes to Jesus and asks him to heal her daughter. This is one of the instances where you might think Jesus was being really rude. He doesn't console her and tell her that everything's gonna be all right. No, he tells her, it's not fair to throw good food to the dogs when the children are hungry. In essence, he's calling her a unfit for his healing. The Jews should be offered his healing and redemption first.

I think Jesus knew this woman from the moment she walked into the house. I think he knew she was embarrassed to be there. I think he knew that she had been harrassed and put down by Jews her whole life. I think he wanted to see whether she was able to forgive those who had tormented her. We've already seen that Jesus had little use for Jews who thought they had the lion's share of God's love just because they were careful about what rules they followed.

Jesus wanted to know - do you, you woman, you non-Jew, really believe in me? Do you really understand that you're not a dog? That you too are God's child? I don't think he was accusing her of being a dog, I think he was saying what she was really thinking in her heart of hearts: "This man will not help me because he is a Jew. He will write me off as a Gentile and as a woman and let my child suffer."

"But he's my last hope so I will ask him anyway."

I love her answer: "Even the dogs eat the crumbs from the children's table." She is not deterred by his rudeness. She is not thrown off because his reaction is what she expected. I think she heard the laughter in Jesus' voice. I think she knew she'd come to the right person. I think she knew he was inviting that response.

That blows me away. That Jesus could know us so well. Could know all of our cynicism and doubts and turn it around and make us acknowledge what we've known all along - we really are his. No one else's but his. All he's waiting for is for us to come running.

control freak

I admit it. My name is Krista and I am a control freak. I need to feel in control of the things that happen to me in my life and I feel very disrupted and disturbed when I don't have that control.

Sadly, I don't have as much control as I like to think I do. I can't control other people, only my reactions to them. I can't control world events like tsunamis and earthquakes and hurricanes. I can't control death.

It's funny how I often become obsessive about the little things I can control, like the neatness of my apartment or the amount of work I do or the kind of food I eat. It gives me that sense of being in control when I might not be. I've always said that you can tell the state of my mind my the state of my desk. If it's neat and clean, I usually have a lot on my mind and need to keep my desk orderly or I start to feel like I'm losing it. If my desk is a little messier than usual, that usually means I don't have as much to think about and don't feel that desperate need to keep my desk as clean.

Reading today's passage, it occurred to me that maybe I'm not the only one who picks on the little things in order to avoid the bigger issues that feel more out of my control.

The Jews have a whole system of rules and regulations surrounding food. I don't know them all, but I do know some of them: no pork and no mixing dairy and meat in the same dish. There are more, but I can't recall them all. Anyway, Jesus comes along and tells them, "Look, God gave you those rules for a purpose - to keep you healthy and to help you recognize your separateness from the pagan nations you were coming into contact with. But food does not make you more or less holy in God's eyes. Nothing that you put into your body makes you more or less holy to God. What does make you 'unclean' is what comes out of you - your words and actions and behaviors."

Food is an easy thing to control. We all decide what we will and won't eat every day. The Jews thought that if they were careful to control what they put into their bodies, then they would be acceptable to God. This abdicated them from the responsibility of being 'good people' in their words, actions and behaviors.

Christians don't focus on food necessarily, but we do have a number of easily controllable rules and regulations that we often cling to so that we can ignore our guilt about not being good people in our words, actions and behaviors. We go to church. We give our money to charitible organizations. We get involved in a ministry. All good things, but sometimes we're in danger of believing that these things we do make us more or less holy to God.

Let's pay attention to the state of our hearts first...

not nice at all

I've decided that Jesus was not a 'nice' man. Not in the way I usually define 'niceness'. I have yet to read a passage in which he speaks with the Pharisees and is 'nice' to them. He does not use pretty words to pursuade them to his point of view. He does not placate or coddle them in any way. He tells it straight up. He calls them hypocrites and vipers and probably every other derroggatory names he could think of.

Interesting.

It strikes me, reading today's passage, that the Pharisees didn't really know God. I could just imagine them scouring their volumes and volumes of books written about their religon, trying to find something with which they could trip Jesus up. The funny thing is, all they come up with are petty rules and regulations. "Ah-ha! Your disciples never washed their hands before they started eating! And you call yourself a Rabbi!"

And Jesus just scoffs. He tells them off. "You people really have no idea, do you? You think you know my Father, but all you know are a bunch of petty rules your fathers made up to make themselves feel better about their cold, bitter hearts."

I wonder how often we as Christians do that. We harp on and on about a variety of 'moral issues' like homosexuality and abortion and euthenasia and stem cell research and pornography - the list is endless. But to what end? Do we raise a stink about these things because we really care about people or because it makes us feel better about our cold, bitter hearts?

I have friends who are passionate and opinionated about some of the aforementioned issues but I just can't do it. I can't look at a guy like Jesus and the way he treated the various people in his life and convince myself that he would have protested at an abortion clinic or written petitions about not allowing homosexuals to marry. That's not the Jesus I know.

The Jesus I know was hardest on the people who thought they had it all together. He was hardest on those who thought they knew what was morally right. He called them hypocrites and vipers. He didn't mince words with them. He pounded them over the head with their callous, legalistic, heartless behaviour. He pointed out how oppressive and unloving they were towards those who didn't fit their 'moral molds'.

Somehow, I don't think that's changed much. I think Jesus is still hardest on Christians. He expects more of us. He expects us to know his Father. He expects us to love like a child - unabashed and unashamed. He expects us to pursue the unlovely and heal the broken and battered and bruised. He wants us to live right lives, yes, but he wants us to focus on loving people - not condemning them. We need to love people first so that they can know the Jesus that saved them before we can teach them how to live right lives.

The Pharisees lacked love. Let's make sure we're not found lacking.

healing

Today's passage, in fact, this whole week's set of passages are about Jesus reaching out to the sick and the disenfranchised (people no one wanted anything to do with).

As I read today's passage, I wondered, if Jesus came today, in this day and age, would modern medicine render his healing miracles unimpressive? Back in Jesus' time, they didn't have all of the medical and technical advances we have tody, so any healing of even common illnesses would've been impressive. Would we have been as impressed today?

I'm pretty sure Jesus knew exactly what time period he wanted to enter into. Our day and age would probably have largely ignored him. He would not have had the same kind of impact at all. Our culture is so saturated by noise that no one would've been able to hear his voice above all the racket.

It's an interesting thought.

One of the questions posed on the Sacred Space website was whether there was anything I needed Jesus to heal in me. I'm not physically sick right now, and I'm pretty sure I'm okay emotionally and mentally. Spiritually - spiritually, I don't know. I'm doing better than I was even a year ago.

I'm feeling a little vaguely uneasy, which is usually how Vergil feels when he's working too hard but not being as productive as he'd like to be. The youth retreat is this weekend and I don't feel entirely ready for it. Maybe that's what it is, I don't know.

Anyway, I'd love to hear everyone else's thoughts - either on this passage or what's going in on your own lives right now.

be strong and courageous

Alrighty then. Just as I was about to start writing, four or five pressing things interrupted me and now I've lost whatever train of thought I might've had.

But I'm a good talker, so I'm sure I'll come up with something.

First of all, however, I just want to say that the sun is shining today. Actually, it broke through the clouds about an hour after I was griping about it yesterday. God's got a quirky sense of humor.

God is very dramatic. I enjoy that about him. He doesn't just give us a habitat to live in, he gives us "THE WORLD" with fantastic light shows every morning and night, weather systems that keep us on our toes, a huge variety of plants and animals (so many we haven't even discovered them all yet) and a range of personalities in people that's just about incomprehesible.

That's why I always love when God tells people in the Bible to "Be strong and courageous." He doesn't just say, "Buck up, Bucko!" or "Chin high there, Sport!" or anything like that. He smacks them across the face with a "Pull yourself together, man! This is no time for shaking in your boots! Be strong! Be courageous! I've got your back!"

That's what I love about God. He doesn't just pat us on the back and wish us luck. He locks arms with us and says, "Be strong and courageous." Not in ourselves, not in our own power, but in him. In his work in our lives. In his plan for his world.

Over the last week, I've been reading articles in a December issue of Time Magazine about Bono and Bill and Melinda Gates. They were named Time's 'People of the Year.' I was completely fascinated and enthralled. They're not the people of the year because they're a famous celebrity and the richest couple in the world. They're the people of the year because they are making a measurable and massive impact on world poverty and global health.

And they're not just throwing money at the problem.

They're throwing themselves, completely and wholeheartedly with a passion and intensity that I envy. Honestly, I would not be surprised if Bono were to say that he had been greeted by an angel who told him to "Be strong and courageous." His mission is righteous. God did not intend for there to be poor among us and he's out to prove that with his foundation called DATA.

Bill and Melinda Gates probably would've required some sort of official memo from God instructing them to "Be strong and courageous," but they rise to the challenge nonetheless. They go on 'learning tours' every year of some of the most impoverished places in the world so that they can assess how their foundation (soon to be endowed for almost $34 billion!) can best help the people there improve their lives.

The articles made my heart stir. And it wasn't because of guilt for once. I could never have the impact on the world that they are having. I don't have the money, celebrity or contacts that they do. Besides which, they're doing a pretty good job and I'd hate to muck that up! :oP

No, my heart stirred because I could almost feel the shift in the motivations of the world's rich. They've stopped throwing money at various problems in order to make themselves feel less guilty for being rich. Now they're pouring not only their money but their lives into issues that will actually change the condition of the world's most underpriviledged people.

That's encouraging to me because our culture is designed in such a way that where the powerful (or notorious) go, there go everyone else. If the powerful and notorious are finally getting their heads out of their arses and looking to the world beyond their million-dollar homes, then maybe the rest of us will follow suit and stop being so self-absorbed.

I think God's calling us all to "Be strong and courageous" within the tasks he has given us. He's got our back and he will use us to bring him glory, whether or not we are rich or famous!

drawing a blank

There are many verses in the Bible (or even whole books of it) that mean little or nothing to me. I can't glean anything out of them no matter how long I stare at them. They're the kind of verses I need 5 different reference books for just to figure out what the context even is.

Today's verse is one of those for me. I don't know how much insight I'll be able to give on it. It's about Jesus being taken to the temple when he was 8 days old to be circumcised according to the laws of Moses.

The only thing I can think of is that this shows how Jesus was connected to God's people, tracing all the way back to Moses. What else is there to say? Jesus has a purpose and a place in the history of the Jews. Not only that, but he fulfilled all their laws, even as he submitted to them himself.

And all I can think about is how badly I want to see the sun. It's been gray and dreary for days and I'm craving blue sky like nothing else right now. Looking out into the horizon driving to and from work, it's only the occassional tree that separates the sky from the snow. Everything's a grayish shade of white. I'm ready for spring. I don't know how much more of this indecisive weather I can take.

I sometimes worry that one day God's gonna get sick of my whining. I can be so ungrateful when I know I should be bursting with praise for all the ways I've been blessed. "Yeah, thanks for all that, but you missed a few of these items on my list. Could we step it up and get on that, please?"

How do you like that? Malcontent mixed with guilt. Sounds like a recipe for lethargy.

Maybe I just need more caffine...

you think you know...

If you've ever watched MuchMusic, I'm guessing you know what follows my line above: "You think you know, but you have no idea." It's the catch phrase of a recently popular television that provided 'exposes' on various popular music artists. The premise was that in spite of the amount of media coverage a celebrity gets, you, the viewer, do not really know anything about said celebrity.

I think that phrase is true for everyone. We think we know so much about other people. Spend enough time with someone and you start to think you've got them figured out. Some of us think we're so good that we can figure out who a person is within the first five minutes of talking to them. And more of us still think we know someone based solely on what other people tell us about them.

But that's not really true, is it?

How many people really know you? And not just superficial knowledge, either - the "deep down I know all your qualities from bad to good including your fantasies and your dreams and your demons" kinda knowledge. I'm guessing that if there's even one person you can say that about, you're doing pretty good.

But even then - do they really, really know you? Core-of-your-soul know you? I'm guessing not. Why am I guessing not? Because I can't honestly say that I've let anyone (even my own husband) know me that thoroughly. Why? Because I still want him to like me. The core-of-my-soul is a lot dirtier than I'd ever like to admit to anyone.

Today's passage is about Jesus going to his hometown and teaching in their synagog. What struck me in this passage was how Jesus' old town-mates started out with some measure of awe about him: "Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands!"

This awe doesn't last long as they start to put these new developments into their contexts of Jesus as they used to know him: "Is this not the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon and are not his sisters here with us?"

It's one of those, "Waaaaiiit a minute. Who the heck do you think you are and where the heck do you get off trying to tell us what's wrong with us? We know you! You're just a carpenter. You're not more special than any of us."

These people thought they knew Jesus, but they really had no idea. They didn't core-of-his-soul know him, that's for sure, and it didn't appear that they even wanted to.

You know what's really funny to me as I think about this? Jesus wants us to core-of-his-soul know him. He laid himself out for us completely. He didn't hold back anything. Even 2000-odd years later, we can still core-of-his-soul know him.

Granted, his soul is a whole lot cleaner than mine. In fact, his soul is so clean, it's blinding in its perfection.

And yet... God completely and utterly dirtied Jesus' perfect soul so that my soul - your soul - could be whiter than snow.

That never ceases to amaze me.

And frustrate me. I think I'm far more comfortable being dirty than I am being clean. Why? I'm gonna steal a few lines from Michelle Merineau, a girl at Prov, who mused about this:

"I wish God was human. I think it takes a whole lot of humility to accept what Jesus did. Most of the time I like to think that I can be good enough on my own. I hate the fact that I'm not. And I feel somewhat like a jerk when I even think about accepting God's grace. I feel like I'm cheating him or something. I find it a lot easier to believe in karma. But God loves me more than that. That to me is the hardest thing to swallow."

What do you think?

grow down!

Do you ever miss being a kid? Not a teeanger, but a kid - the age where your worries were small compared to what they are now. No concerns about bills (unless they were platapus bills), or relationships (unless you were going to miss a play-date), or career (unless it was telling everyone you wanted to be a ____________ when you grew up).

I miss it all the time. The freedom from 'responsibility' as it were. No expectations of you except to do your chores and be nice to your siblings.

I think children were naturally attracted to Jesus. I know a few people like that to whom kids just gravitate. I think Jae is one of them. I think children saw Jesus and came running, laughing and squealing and telling him, "This-this-this one time..." I'll bet Jesus revelled in it. I'll bet the smile that spread across his face radiated for miles. I'll bet it reminded him a lot of heaven. The unabashed reciprocation of his love and excitement.

I love how many times in the Bible, Jesus tells his disciples to 'grow down.' When everyone else is telling people they need to 'grow up' and 'act more like an adult', Jesus is saying, 'Don't. Don't grow up. Grow down. Love me like these kids love me - unabashedly and excitedly. I don't want a bunch of intellectuals and philosophers who have analyzed their faith to the point that the can separate it from their emotions. I want my kids. You're God's kids and because of me, you're not in trouble anymore. Your 'time-out' is over. And you're being rewarded!'

This is the most beautiful irony I could ever think of. The closer you get to God, the younger you become. So much for all the beauty solutions being offered on TV. There's no better plastic surgery than an intimate relationship with God!

Today's passage is about the disciples asking Jesus who is the greatest in heaven. I wonder how long they'd been debating this point: 'Well, God is certainly the greatest and I'm sure Jesus ranks right up there, but we've been pretty rockin' at this disciple thing. I mean, we gotta be up there on the scale. At least get us a golden street named after each of us.' So they finally decide to ask Jesus. He doesn't tell them what they think they should hear. He tells them they have to change and become more like children.

Children are the greatest in heaven. But why? Well, why not? They are completely dependent on their parent (in this case, God), and they don't have an adult's inhibitions about intimacy. Adults like to keep everyone at arms length. I know I do this all the time. We've experienced hurt, so we don't want to get too close to people for fear that they will hurt us too.

But we never have to worry about being hurt by God. We can throw ourselves into his arms with abandon, whether it be out of excitement, out of sorrow, or out of pain. And just like mom's kiss can make any boo-boo better, God's touch can heal even our deepest wounds.

Being like a child does not mean we have to be immature. But maturity doesn't require bitterness, untrusting feelings or stand-offishness towards God (or even other people for that matter).

Man, I just can't get over what a cool thought that is - the more you let God love you, the younger you become.

I think I'm gonna try it.

the cost of leadership

(II Samuel 16:5-12) This was a curious passage to read today for a number of reasons. First, because at church yesterday, Rob talked about David showing God's kindness to a member of Saul's household and second, because it relates to some of the trials of leadership.

This passage tells of a man who was related to the first Israelite king, Saul, coming out of his house and cursing David, the second Israelite king. He was angry. Saul's family, immediate and extended, had more or less all been killed. This guy was a survivor and he was wicked angry. Now, the killing of Saul and his family was not really David's fault. Saul had made some very poor decisions as king and even took his own life at the end of it all.

But we all need to blame someone for our problems, don't we?

And that's what Shimei did. Blamed David in his anger. It probably gave him some vengeful satisifaction to hear that David's own son, Absolam, was trying to kill him so that he could take over the throne.

David is a fascinating leader to me. He is hailed as Israel's greatest king, but if you really read the details of his life, you might come to the conclusion that he was a lying, murderous, adulterous, wishy-washy, whiny kind of guy. Some king. And yet, the Bible never fails to refer to him as 'a man after God's own heart.' I've always wondered about that. What was it about David that made him a man after God's own heart?

Today's passage might actually give some hints. One of David's attendants gets PO'd at Shimei - even goes so far as to call him a dead dog. But instead of agreeing with him and ordering the man put to death (which David had every right to do), he says, let him curse me.

Let him curse me. Would you let someone curse you that way? Badmouth you like that? I can't think of many people who would.

But David did. David's context for everything that happened to him in his life was his relationship with God. David trusted God implicitly and believed that nothing happened to him without God's involvement, even when he had no idea what in the world God was trying to do. David knew that he was not perfect. Heck, David knew he was pretty messed up, all things considered. But he also knew that he had been chosen by God and that God had promised to orchestrate everything in David's life for God's own glory - his sucesses and even his failures.

I think that's why David let Shimei curse him. He knew he deserved it. Maybe not for what Shimei was accusing him of, but for sure for something else. Instead of defending himself, David left it to God. If God had sent Shimei out to curse him, that was what he was supposed to do. If not, God would take care of it.

I don't know if I have that kind of faith yet. I don't know if I have the kind of relationship with God that allows me to put everything that happens to me into his hands completely. I don't know if I have the kind of self-confidence required to allow people to think poorly of me and trust that God will deal with it, one way or the other.

This is what is so hard about being a leader. We are in the spotlight, so to speak. People watch our actions and our behaviour and will judge us before getting to know us. It comes with the territory and it's a hard thing to deal with sometimes. And it doesn't matter how good we are at what we do (David was an excellent king), not everybody is going to like us.

Also, not everybody is going to be on our side. We are decieved if we think that just because we are leaders of a youth group that everyone will see things our way. People defend the things they care about the most (be it family or something else) and we have to admit that we are the exact same way.

People will blame us for things that are not our fault. People will disagree with our methods and even with our personalities. But that is not our problem. That's God's problem. If we walk in his will, do what is pleasing to him and trust him with everything we have and are, he will deal with it one way or the other.

And we're not perfect. Never will be while we live on this earth. Sometimes we deserve correction and even punishment. It's how we grow.

It's not easy to come to that place of maturity that says, I will not worry about what others say or think of me, I will only worry what God thinks of me. It's hard to let go and not take personally what feels like personal attacks. It's not easy to accept correction or even punishment. But it is a good goal to have.

When the Bible tells us that there is freedom in Christ, I think this is part of what it means. It means truly understanding Christ's forgiveness of our imperfections to the extent that we naturally and freely extend that forgiveness to others. It means that we are free to give ALL our burdens, the things that anger us, hurts and curses people throw at us, to our Saviour.

His shoulders really are big enough.

Let's strive to be people after God's own heart.

not my job

More parables today. I don't feel quite as dumb with this one as with yesterday's. This one is about how the kingdom of God is like a small seed that is planted and then grows bigger than you could imagine it to be. And all on its own too.

The neat thing about this parable is how our role in 'growing' the kingdom of God is relatively small. Our job is to scatter the seed. God takes care of the growing bit. We can't force anyone to grow in their relationship with God. We can't force the world to be a better place. But we certainly can plant the seeds that God can then make grow. We can tell people about Christ and we can pray for them. We can work towards social justice and economic stewardship. God will take care of the growing.

It's sometimes frustrating when the things we do as Christians don't seem to make a difference. Like praying for someone who doesn't know God. I know people who have prayed for their loved ones for years and years and never see any change. How do we deal with that? Why won't that seed grow?

It's hard to wait on God's timing sometimes. What am I saying, sometimes? It's hard to wait all the time. At least it is, for me. As seed-sowers, you can start to feel really helpless. Like it doesn't matter what you do, nothing is gonna change.

But God is faithful. And he's trustworthy. And he knows what he's doing. Thank God for that! Could you imagine if we were in charge of making people grow? What a mess that would be. I don't think we'd know where to start. And even if we did, we probably wouldn't be very wise about it.

I'm glad making people grow is not my job. I'm glad I only have to be a seed-sower. I just pray that I can be a good and faithful seed sower so that God can get on with his part of the arrangement!

haves and have nots

I feel a little surrel typing this right now. My brain feels like it's 100 places at once. I haven't eaten lunch yet and I can't decide if I'm hungry. I've been very much of a one-track at work today. Sometimes when I get uber focused on something, I start to lose my perception of everything else around me. It's one of those days where I'll probably work straight through my break and be surprised when it's 4:30.

Anyway, having said that, I decided to derail my work train this afternoon to pray and meditate with the Sacred Space website. The verse they had today was Jesus teaching the people using parables. Have you ever felt stupid reading Jesus' parables? Sometimes I do. They're basically stories about everyday stuff that are a representation of something else. Kind of like a story with a moral but a little deeper than that. At any rate, I always think that Jesus told these parables so that common people would understand his message better. I figure, I'm pretty common, so I should get these, no question. But I don't always. Maybe I'm more like a thick-skulled disciple than I give myself credit for - they always seemed to have trouble with Jesus' stories!

Today's verse was about how no one brings out a light just to stick it under a basket or under the bed. The purpose of light is to illuminate things. Okay, I think I get that. The light might represent the good news of Jesus' death and resurrection and those of us that have that light shouldn't hide it from others. Simple enough.

But then he goes on to say this:

"Pay attention to what you hear; the measure you give will be the measure you get, and still more will be given you. For to those who have, more will be given; and from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away."

What is it that I'm supposed to give? The light? Maybe. This actually reminds me of one of my favorite Dave Matthews Band songs, believe it or not. The bridge of that song says:

"If you give, you begin to live. If you give, you get the world."

But I don't really know. It all seems so vague, like Jesus assumed we would know what he was referring to. "For those who have, more will be given; and from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away..."

Sometimes I wonder if we make Jesus and Christianity out to be too 'nice'. We placate people with Jesus love and neglect some of his harder sayings. He was pretty unequivocal about the fact that people had to believe in him in order to go be reconciled with God. Yes, his death and resurrection are for everyone, but everyone has to choose him first.

So I conclude, feeling as vague and inconclusive as I started out. I'm gonna go back to work now and try to figure out if I'm hungry. If you have more insight on this verse than I do, please post your comment!

the WWE - God style

I stopped counting the times I've asked God to send down neon lights instructing me on what I'm supposed to do with my life. I want him to send me an e-mail, writing on the wall, message on my answering maching, sky writing, anything! Just tell me what you want!

Sometimes he seems so far away. I know he has plans for my life, I just wish he could be more upfront about it all.

But then I read a story like Paul's conversion experience and I think - maybe I'll stick to the gradual revealing of God's plan for me.

I don't know what I would do if I experienced God in a flash of light like that - a flash so bright, it blinded me for days. What amazes me about this story is how Paul never argued with God. I mean, here was a guy who was so zealous in his pursuit of destroying Christianity that he even traveled across the country to arrest people. And yet, when God drops from heaven to give him the 'People's Elbow', Paul gets it. Body slammed by God. So hard he fell off his horse!

Pinned to the ground in the 'Wall of Jericho', God asks him, 'Why are you persecuting me?' Paul obviously wants to know who's giving him the smack down so instead of answering, he asks, 'Who are you, Lord?' (I guess he figures if he submits the pain would end sooner!) The answer? 'Jesus of Nazareth, whom you are persecuting.'

I wonder what went through Paul's mind when he heard that. He was a hardcore, devout Jew. The reason he persecuted Christians was because they claimed that the Jews had it all wrong - they could stop waiting, the Messiah had come! But Jesus was not the kind of Messiah Paul had been waiting for. What kind of Saviour gets arrested and executed? What kind of Saviour refuses to rise up against the cruel Roman government to free his people? What kind of Saviour disses the Jewish Pharisees? What kind of Saviour..? I think Paul was wicked angry.

It's that anger that makes me marvel at what Paul said next. He didn't say, 'Get off me, you crazy...light!' or 'Jesus of Nazareth is dead!' or anything like that. No, he said, 'What am I do to, Lord?'

Now that's a change of heart. That's the most dramatic thing to me about this story - it's not the light or even God speaking to Paul, it's his answer! 'What am I to do?' God backflips on him out of heaven and somehow, knocks the anger right out of him.

God tells Paul to get up, go to Damascus and wait. He'll find out what's in store for him there. Paul stays blind for a long time, even after hearing what God had in store for him. It was almost as though he needed the darkness for everything to sink in.

Have you ever been body-slammed by God? I know I have, at least once. Only, it felt more like a chair match where I got smacked over the head. It wasn't a 'conversion' experience like Paul's, but it was definitely a time where God gave me some serious direction for my life.

So what do you think? Still want God to send down the neon lights? Or are you okay with his still, small voice?

complete joy

So, another day, another ramble from yours truly. It's been an odd day, weather-wise. Cold and snowy one minute, sunshiny the next and drab and dreary the moment after.

Today's passage was from John 15:9-17. I love these passages in John where Jesus is giving his last instructions to his disciples before he's taken to the cross. They're so full of love and longing. I always think how Jesus' heart must have been breaking at the thought of leaving his disciples to fend for themselves. Did they really understand everything he'd been teaching them? Were they really ready to go it on their own?

I love how Jesus emphasises his love for the disciples. I love how he says that they will always be loved by him and how the only thing they need to do to have him continue to love him is to follow his commands. And what is his command? To love each other as he loved them. There's profound simplicity in that.

There's one sentence in this pasasge that stuck out for me during this reading:

"I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete."

It's the joy that throws me off. Jesus knew he was about to die. How could he have joy? How could he promise the disciples joy like that? And how would the disciples be able to feel joy after going through what they were about to go through - the death of their beloved teacher?

I guess that's what makes me not God. Jesus could see beyond the pain. He could see clear through to the other side - when he'd be reunited with these 12 men he had come to love so dearly in heaven. He could see through to me and to you, people he calls his friends through the disciples. He could see me reading his words even now and marvelling at the fact that he has also chosen me to bear fruit for his kingdom.

I think that was his joy. His joy was that all humanity be reunited with God through his death and resurrection.

I wonder if true joy really is possible without true pain? I wonder if the two must exist together in order for either to exist at all.

This passage is drenched in love. This is Jesus' heart on his sleeve - his words of love to us in our most painful times.

It's his love that is our joy.

the unforgiveable sin

Today's passage on the Sacred Space was the one where Jesus tells us about the 'unforgiveable sin'. The one sin every Christian is desperately afraid of committing: blaspheming against the Holy Spirit. I've always wondered what exactly that sin entailed. Did it include swearing? Taking the Lord's name in vain? The site has a link called 'Need inspiration?' that you can click to get a little more insight on the passage. Here, I discovered that this sin, as the Jews would have understood it back then, was ignoring the promptings of the Lord that indicated whether a thing was good or not. Basically, calling goodness and truth evil and calling evil good.

That's the sin of the devil, isn't it? In the garden, with Adam & Eve, did Satan not decieve them into thinking that which was good for them (not eating from the tree) was really holding them back? That the good was really just God being evil and malicious towards them? Curious.

But then, did Adam and Eve not participate in that sin? Did they not blaspheme the Holy Spirit when they agreed with the devil? And yet, God still used them to create all humanity.

I still don't know where I stand on this passage. It's definitely a hard one to get your mind around. I wonder if the unforgiveable sin is refusing to acknowledge that we sin at all. I wonder if the unforgiveable sin is refusing the Holy Spirit's promptings that we need Jesus. Because I think in the context of that passage, that's exactly what Jesus was trying to tell the Pharisees: They didn't believe they were sinners and they certainly didn't believe that they needed Jesus and the forgiveness he offered.

Curious.

What do you think about this passage (Mark 3:22-30)? What is God saying to you when you read it?

risky business

Christianity is risky business. The passage on the Sacred Space today was about Jesus calling the first four disciples, Simon, Andrew, James and John. Simon and Andrew left their job to follow Jesus. James and John left their father.

As I thought about this passage, I wondered where I fell when it comes to taking risks in my Christian life. I think I can take risks with my job and my career. In fact, I have done exactly that for most of my adult life - I have never held on to a job so dearly that I could not easily let it go. But I don't think I could do the same with my family. I don't think I could leave them as easily as James and John seemed to do.

Wait a minute, though. Did I not leave them already? Did I not decide to stay in Winnipeg when I could have moved to Edmonton with them? Did I not choose to make my life here, without them, instead of there, with them? I suppose I did. Maybe I already took that risk.

It's a strange thing to read about how easy it seemed for the disciples to just pick up and leave everything to follow Jesus. Did they ever have second thoughts? Did they ever think to themselves, what the heck am I doing?

What was it about Jesus that attracted them? There are no descriptions of what Jesus might have looked like, but for some reason, I don't think that he was particularly handsome. Not in today's Hollywood sense of the word, anyway. I wonder if he was just kind of ordinary looking but at the same time, someone you never forgot. I'll bet he had a fire in his eyes and a way of looking at you that made you feel like he saw clean through to your soul. I'll bet there was nothing but love in his face, a serene kind of joy and peace that you craved for yourself. I'll bet it was hard to be on the fence about him - he was probably one of those people you either loved or hated. I wonder if anyone ever called him a 'nice' guy. "Yeah, he claims to be the son of God, but he really is a nice guy."

And just imagine - Jesus, this strangely attractive but kind of odd guy, walking around, calling people away from their jobs and their families because the kingdom of God was near.

The kingdom of God. It was something your parents would tell you stories about before you went to bed. Stories of your rich heritage, of how God always came to your rescue and now, in this time of oppression, there was still that hope - that God's kingdom would come near once more. And here was Jesus, proclaiming that the time had come. It was here. Your hopes fulfilled.

Maybe the disciples were all dreamers. They all longed to be knights in shining armor, helping to usher God's kingdom in - like the stories they'd heard about the great commander, Joseph. They all wanted to be heros. Maybe that's what attracted them.

What kind of risks am I willing to take to follow Jesus? Am I willing to throw myself at him with abandon, excited for the adventures he has in store for me? Am I allowed to be a dreamer, like the disciples, of being a hero in bringing the kingdom of God to earth? I hope so.

Only I wonder if it would be all right if I could be a ninja instead of a knight...

out of his mind

Today's passage on the Sacred Space was about Jesus going home and the crowds following him - so many that they couldn't even find somewhere to feed them all. Jesus' family goes out to restrain him because everyone said that he was out of his mind. Could you imagine if you had a brother like Jesus? All his life he seems pretty normal - maybe a little quirky at times, but relatively normal. He's the oldest, so he's naturally the one who's gonna take over the family business. And he seems interested in doing that too - going to work with your dad when he's old enough and all the rest of it.

And then, one day, out of the blue (or at least, to you it seems that way), he announces at dinner that he won't be taking over for dad. He's headed out to preach, teach and heal. Just like that. Maybe you chuckle to yourself or even mock him. "Are you being serious? You're just gonna go out preaching and teaching and healing. Who's gonna listen to you?" And Jesus just gives you that look and says, "Yes, I'm serious. I won't be home tomorrow. Actually, I'm not sure when I'll be home again."

"Well, where are you gonna live?"

"Wherever I can."

"What about your job?"

"God will provide."

"What will you eat? No job means no money means no food."

"God'll take care of it."

"You're crazy."

"Maybe. Wanna come with me?"

"Pshh! I don't think so."

But he goes out anyway. And the next thing you hear, there are crowds following him everywhere he goes. But the people in your neighborhood and your church start to whisper. "Poor Mary and Joseph. I don't envy them their son. He seemed like such a good boy. Who knew he was crazy?"

So you have a 'family meeting' to try to figure out what to do with Jesus. You're all worried about him. But you're really more worried about your own reputations. Who wants to be related to a crazy person? You decide to stage an intervention. You'll go out and drag Jesus home, by hook or by crook.

But when you get there, you can't even make your way through the crowd to your own brother. Your brother. Not theirs. Yours. And when you finally do, Jesus just give you that look and says, "They're the ones that need me right now. You'll be okay. Stop worrying so much about what other people think of you."

I think I'd be mad. I'd be angry because I'd be possessive of Jesus. He's MY brother, I would try to argue. He should think of his family first, not all these strangers.

Not that it would do any good. I wonder if I'm sometimes too possessive of my relationships. I have a hard time letting them go. I hold on to them even after they've stopped being productive to either of us - mostly because I want the other person to still 'like' me. What is it about me that always wants people to 'like' me so much? It seems so selfish when I think about it that way. It's hard to let people go, but sometimes we have to. God's purpose for them might not be to put their family first, it might be to serve complete strangers. God's purpose for them might have nothing to do with you at all. Or maybe, God's purpose for them only involved you for a short time... And I guess the same goes for me.

A good friend of mine explained a hard lesson to me yesterday. All relationships end. That's the nature of relationships. The only one that cannot end is your relationship with God. That's why that relationship has to come first because when the pain of the end of other relationships come, you will need someone who can heal you. Someone who won't go away. God won't ever go away.

So I guess the question then is, "Is my relationship with God the most important thing to me?" I don't know if I can say a definitive yes yet. Can you?

my plan is working perfectly!

Well, I've invited a whole bunch of people to join this and so far, I like the ease of this system much better than what I had set up before. Just so everyone knows, I have invited a few 'adults' to join us too. I figure they're just youth in disguise! Besides which, they care about us and our 'issues' and I think it's good to give them an idea of some of the things they can pray for and support us in.

I'm getting more excited about all this. Not only is this not as dependent on my maintenance as the previous site, I love writing and I can type fast! :oP

I did say I was gonna post some of my thoughts about that Sacred Space site, didn't I? I should do that.

First off, I loved the simplicity of it. You just read the short instructions and you pray. The passage I was asked to meditate on was Mark 3:13-19, where Jesus called the 12 disciples. One of the things that struck me was how Jesus picked them out from a group. I couldn't help but imagine myself there and wonder how I would have felt if I hadn't been chosen. I would have been heartbroken. It's like not getting picked on a sports team.

But then it occured to me that the people Jesus chose were not necessarily exceptional humans. They weren't necessarily as organized or efficient or anal as I am. They were stubborn, fanatical, greedy and betraying. What would Jesus want with guys like that? Wouldn't he want someone a little more put together? Maybe not. Maybe he knew that they were the kind of guys whowould screw up. The kind of guys who would have to come back to him and admit all the ways they hadn't lived up to his expectations. And he would say, "And that's why you need me." Maybe I don't need Jesus enough. Maybe I'm too self-reliant. Maybe.

Do you ever feel like being talented at certain things seems more like a burden than a gift? The expectations and responsibilities are so high. And how far you can fall. Maybe I need Jesus more than those guys did. I know I've already had many lessons on how I can't do everything myself. But part of me doesn't really believe that. Part of me still insists that if I put my mind to it, I can get it done on my own. Maybe I need Jesus to keep breaking me. Maybe I need him to show me how best to invest my 'talents' so that I don't have to fall as far. Or maybe I'm just a more polished stubborn, fanatic, greedy, lying traitor.

After meditating on the scripture, I was supposed to imagine that Jesus was right there in the room with me. I was supposed to just lay my heart out for him. I'm always amazed at how ashamed I feel when I have to do that exercise. Ashamed but safe somehow. Like Jesus says to me, "I'm glad you're here. I know you're not perfect. But that's okay. That's why you need me. I already died. I already made it all right. You don't need to beat yourself up as much as you do." And then he kind of chuckles at me and just holds on to me for a while.

What a great God.

so this is what I did...

I suck at starting things and not following through. I know this about myself but I can't always figure out how to overcome it. Remember the spiritual disciplines thing I started a while back and never really completed? Yeah. That thing. I don't think it was realling working for anybody so I've more or less scraped it for this new idea of mine.

I've found a website that actually leads you through a 10 minute prayer everyday. It's run by the Irish Jesuits and I discovered it while reading a book called The Sacred Way by Tony Jones. Here's the link: http://www.sacredspace.ie. I'm thinking this is something I'm gonna try to do everyday and then talk about my experiences with it on this blogspot. I'd like to invite you to participate with me if you're so inclined.

Granted, that's not the only thing I'd like to blather on about on this space. I'd also like to address leadership issues, stuff we deal with at youth, etc., etc. I figure this is as good a place as any to meet and talk about stuff on a regular basis.

So yeah - I hope this becomes something I actually follow through on and don't quit halfway through. I never like to think that my 'good ideas' are half-baked, but I guess sometimes they are. See? I'm not perfect! My trouble is that I'm ridiculously self-aware and can therefore figure out ways to hide my imperfections!