Friday, August 29, 2008

Who I am.

Who you are now, is who you are.

I am not my potential, nor am I what I've done. What I am now might be the accumulation of answered questions a or series of made decisions. Who I am going to be is an extension of God's purpose.

But what and who we are right now, is who we are. That's really all we have.

Who are you right now?

Saturday, August 23, 2008

On Responsibility.


The word itself might as well be four-letter word for many of us. We avoid it's dooming claws, finding clever ways to dodge it like an oncoming football player.

The problem isn't in the nature of the word. By definition, it's an amazing word; respectable and worth embracing. The problem isn't in it's own definition; the problem is in ours.

We've demonized the term by associating it with negative experiences. The loss of free time due to working is "responsibility." The prudent managing of money due to loans and living is "responsibility."

These experiences are essential in life, much deserving of the term "responsibility."

Responsibility, however, has been vilified by those who fear it the most. When someone we know dodges not the "responsibilities" of life but the typical and expected career or personal path, we're quick to label him "irresponsible." We're quick to quarrel and concern ourselves with all of the ways he/she is being irresponsible, when really, what we're doing is absolving ourselves from our own failure to take the road less traveled.

When a high school friend chooses to attend a quirky out-of-state school rather than their parents' alma mater, how do we feel? When someone quits their promising desk-job to join the police academy, what do we do? When a co-worker quits to travel the world and start a non-profit organization in Beijing what do we say?

We call them irresponsible.

But we're jealous.

Pointing the finger is much easier to do from the security of an air-conditioned office.

We've been given the blessing of one earthly life in which we are charged with living boldly in the barracks of insecurity.

We're given passions and we're given skills and ideas and strokes of genius and we ignore them, trading them for the blessing of comfort and security.

To ignore these passions, I would argue, is being irresponsible.

Life is Epic. Come Alive.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

I love you.

No you don't. You're besotted.

What's besotted mean?

It doesn't mean love.

Is it a step on the way to love?

No. It's terminal.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Vantage Points

I'm at Starbucks. this is what my computer sees. No idea who the lady is in the background, though she might sue me for unauthorized photography.

This is what I see. Note the myriad unfinished songs and stories. It's just how I roll. Bonus points for noticing what I'm listening to.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

God is good.

Too often I'm guilty of punctuating a positive statement with "God is good" or some variation of it. The problem though, is that when I say "I got a new job, God is good" or "awesome time up at the cabin, God is awesome" what I'm implying is that because something favorable happened, God is good.

The truth is, God is good when times are terrible too. God is good when someone dies. God is good when you lose your job. God is good when we aren't good.

If we tether God's goodness to a "good" time or a favorable event, we end up reducing his glory and creating for ourselves a genie-like God who exists only when good things happen. A spoiling and coddling God who is inexplicably absent during the hard times. I'm guilty of this completely.

It's just much easier to reflect on God's goodness during calm waters and perfect weather. When it starts raining, we turn to an "unjust" God who "must have forgotten about us."

C.S. Lewis, in his typical confrontational and largely irrefutable fashion says "We want, in fact, not so much a Father in Heaven as a grandfather in heaven." We want a God that will bounce us on his knee asking about only our best aspects. What we avoid is the Father who sees our hearts for what they are and loves us anyways.

No one wants to feel that naked.

"God is good" is not apart of an if/then statement. It is not a piece to an algorithm. It is not reason enough to only account for blessings. God is good because God is love.

And, as I'm sure I'll find myself pontificating on in the future. Love hurts sometimes.

God is always good. Please join me in trying to remember that when when it doesn't feel like it.

Friday, August 08, 2008

What you think you understand

"God is not what you imagine or what you think you understand. If you understand, you have failed." -- St. Augustine

Saturday, August 02, 2008


I used to feel bad for the flavor Grape because, while he had been my flavor of choice for all of my (then) 8 years of life, I secretly started coveting his archenemy, the dastardly and wildly popular "Strawberry."

Strawberry was the guy everyone liked. He was handsome and polite, your parents would love him (they probably already did.) Grape, not so much. Grape was a little looser 'round the midsection and while he had a crushing wit, he probably had more than a few problems with ladies. I liked Grape though, and he liked me. We had a strange connection, because while the Strawberries were out pushing each other into water fountains and collecting grass-stained knees and cheek-kisses, me and Grape were reading short stories or wondering what the pretty girls saw in guys who punched each other.

I liked Grape, and he liked me.

One day, a sweaty-palmed peer unsheathed a dagger of Now-and-Later's. He pulled from it his favorite and passed it to me.

I was faced with a choice.

Instinctively, I peeled back the wrapper to unveil my good old purple standby. But this time was different. I hovered over my friend Grape for what seemed like an hour, and, I confess, in a moment of temptation and weakness I walked up to Grape, I took his hand in mine, and I kissed his cheek.

I chose Strawberry. Despite the quizzically disappointed looks of my comrades, I chose Strawberry.

I liked it at first; Indeed I bought into it. I started doing trendy things like saying "dude" and "sweet" and I think my trembling hand even hi-fived someone.

By the end though, I became less enamored with Strawberry. He was, if anything, too sweet. He turned my mouth a brighter red than I was comfortable with; so I reached for Grape and wore it's bruise-color on my lips like a hard-won badge of loyalty.

Since then, it's "give me Grape or give me death."

Thank you for reading, it's taken me 17 years of sleepless conviction to type this out. Grape, I'm so sorry for my betrayal.

Friday, August 01, 2008



I'm coming back. Durham 09.

God is amazing.