Now/Here

I wrote this post in the airport on my way down to Haiti about eleven days ago. I had connectivity issues, so I haven't been able to post it till now. This was the attitude and approach I wanted to keep at the front of my mind while in Haiti. Some moments I succeeded and some I didn't, but that's just part of the process.

Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning has continued to bless me as I have pored over and considered not only trust, but some other concepts and themes he presents.

One of the points Manning focuses on is the concept of now/here. I struggle with attention. My mind is always somewhere else. Whether I'm daydreaming, philosophizing or thinking to the future, I very rarely live in the moment. I'm the type of person who struggles to listen to what people have to say because I am busy formulating my next response. As a result, I've been caught many times being inattentive and absent-minded, sometimes with disastrous consequences.


For some time now, I've been familiar with the concept of making everything that we do in life an act of worship. So the thought goes that no task is so small that God cannot be glorified in it's doing. I like the idea of making everything that I do an act of worship, but how do we do this? What does it really mean?

A great place to start is now/here. Manning shares the anecdote of a man who is visiting the home of a Buddhist monk and having dinner with him. As the meal concludes, the guest urges the monk to allow him to do the dishes. In doing so, the man desires to thank the monk for preparing the meal and also to get the dishes done as quickly as he can so that they can "get on with their evening." The monk responds that the guest may not do the dishes because he will not do them right. The guest asks how a person could possibly do the dishes wrong, and the monk responds that he will be doing the dishes to move onto the next thing. In order to correctly do the dishes, one must do the dishes merely to do the dishes.
  

Every person, every task, every moment deserves our full attention. Being now/here is being nowhere except where you are, physically, intellectually, emotionally spiritually.

The story of Jesus raising Lazarus is an incredibly powerful one. This is a story where we truly see Jesus as fully God and fully man. Jesus shows up late. This is a point in time when his friends believe in his power to heal but do not yet understand that he holds power over life and death. Jesus commiserates with his grieving friends as they mourn the loss of their beloved, His beloved, Lazarus. Let me say that again, Jesus feels sorrow with his friends. Here we see the shortest and one of the most powerful verses in the Bible: Jesus wept. Jesus knew full well that he was about to raise Lazarus in this moment. He knew that this death and separation were merely temporary.

 
I never fully realized the significance of this moment until I read Ruthless Trust. Jesus doesn't look around and say, "Hey guys, pipe down for a second. I gotta get psyched up to do something really cool. I think you're gonna dig it." He also doesn't say, "Quit your crying, weepy whiners. I'm going to raise Lazarus and reunite you guys in just a few minutes." He doesn't give some lame Christianese answer about how all things work together for His glory and He's the shepherd of his flock, so everyone should just accept their loss with a dull smile on their face and move on.

 
Jesus Wept!

 
Despite his infinite knowledge and power, despite the fact that his father lives outside of time, Jesus is now/here with his friends. He feels intense sadness, sympathy, empathy, pain. Jesus didn't smile and shrug it off, Jesus didn't sniffle. Jesus wept.

What a testament to being now/here! What a statement on being nowhere, save for where you are! I'm praying that I can strive to be like Christ in this way. I am praying that I can focus on my God, the people, the tasks, the moment that lie right in front of me at all times. It's a tall order, but I believe it is a beautiful act of worship.

Happy New Year

For some, 2012 was the best year ever. Some are just thankful that it's over. Either way, the end of a year and the beginning of another certainly provides a symbolic line of demarcation that many grasp and claim as time for a change.

Every single day that the sun rises offers this sort of opportunity. Even better, every moment of our lives beckons us to make better decisions, care better for others and add something of beauty and substance to creation. How much moreso a day when the whole world is beginning something new?

You may be on the mountain top right now, looking back down at 2012 with joy, peace and thankfulness, looking forward to 2013 with hope, assurance and anticipation. You may also be in the valley, looking back with sadness, disappointment, and questioning, forward with fear, confusion and anxiety. In whichever camp you fall, you're still carrying some brokenness, some kind of doubt, offense, anger, or self-questioning. Leave it. It's poison. Let 2012 have it. That's what grace is all about.

This song is beautiful. It's about new beginnings. It's about rejecting the darkness in our lives, investing all we can and looking to the future with hope. It makes me want to dance. And it's hard to dance with the devil on your back.


 I'm not sure all these lyrics are correct. But I wasn't a real big fan of the actual music video.

Trust

I'm currently reading Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning. Manning's Abba's Child was an incredibly influential book in the development of my faith and also provided me with a quotation that I ultimately had tattooed on my arm, a constant reminder of grace, the thing I should be most grateful for in my life and the thing I should also be most willing to give freely. Ruthless Trust seems to be just the right message at the right time in my life, much like Abba's Child was at the time. Manning's writing is beautiful, truthful, humble and hewn from pain and an intimate knowledge of brokenness and grace. This anecdote has been in my head for days:

"When the brilliant ethicist John Kavanaugh went to work for three months at "the house of the dying" in Calcutta, he was seeking a clear answer as to how best to spend the rest of his life. On the first morning there he met Mother Teresa. She asked, "And what can I do for you?" Kavanaugh asked her to pray for him.
     "What do you want me to pray for?" she asked. He voiced the request that he had borne thousands of miles from the United States: "Pray that I have clarity."
     She said firmly, "No, I will not do that." When he asked her why, she said, "Clarity is the last thing you are clinging to and must let go of." When Kavanaugh commented that she always seemed to have the clarity he longed for, she laughed and said, "I have never had clarity; what I have always had is trust. So I will pray that you trust God.""

As human beings, we crave clarity. Whether it be reasons or explanations for the events in our life, or whether it be the affirmation of being told, "Well done, my good and faithful servant," we have a deep need to know with some degree of certainty that we are headed down the right path. For those of us who choose to believe in God, He is the most profound, unimaginably comprehending being in our life. Therefore, it is from Him Who we most greatly desire clarity.

I have heard the voice of God before. It was not a booming voice in the dead of night. It has been an ethereal feeling I had when going about my day to day. It has been the smile of families in a poor neighborhood. It has been a deep knowing peace. It has been a series of events constructed that led me to know I was in the right place. It's been not hearing with my ears, but hearing with my soul and mind an inaudible but penetrating voice.

I've been listening for the voice of God a lot lately and I haven't been hearing much. Part of the reason I have been listening so closely for him because I have been waiting for confirmation that I have made good decisions. Like John in the preceding story, I want clarity. I, and I think many others like me, relate God's silence to failure. We see God as a father who is often disappointed in us and whose stern, wordless looks confirm our failures.

This is not God. God is a loving father who shines light on us simply through turning his face in our direction. His radiance is so great that we're best off if we can only see His back. A mentor advised me that God is just silent sometimes and these moments provide us with opportunities to build our trust up in Him. Sometimes God speaks to us and sometimes He trusts us to live life for His Glory. The very least we can do is return the favor. Seeking clarity is putting the cart before the horse. If we yearn to seek implicit and enduring trust in God, clarity will come.

Anthem

No, not the story by Ayn Rand. For better or worse, sometimes songs just resonate with me. I heard this song about a billion times and it never really did much for me. On the billion and first, though, it became my anthem. I'm not quite sure why I love it so much, but I do. There are a couple lines that I think a lot of us can identify with from time to time. Just try turning it on loud and not singing along and dancing. Fast forward to the two minute mark to get to the music.

Perspective Change

There are many facts in life, some are good and some are bad. Regardless of their nature, we must accept them. However, we have a choice which ones we would like to embrace and allow to shape our countenance. It's best if we embrace the good.

This song came on the radio this morning. I've heard it dozens of times. There was something different about it this morning. I've always heard it as a statement of devotion and commitment to another person, a love song to which we do not know the end. Today, the message was different. As I drove down the road singing the lyrics, I chose to view it as a prayer to God. I think it's better this way.

30

Thirty is an interesting number. It's not that big, but it's not too small either. When children first start learning to count, it's a number they struggle to get to and often mispronounce. As I was talking to a friend, he submitted that the main difference between thirty and twenty-nine, and what makes it vastly superior, is that it is divisible by 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 10, 15 and 30 while twenty-nine is merely a prime number. He may be right in his assessment, but I am prone to wax nostalgic at times such as these, so I'm going to briefly assume there is a little more to the number thirty than that.

30 years ago, I was being delivered and placed in the loving hands of my mother and father.
30 months ago, I was packing up all my belongings to start a new life in California.
30 weeks ago, I was in Arizona, building homes for Apaches.
30 days ago, I was fighting to preserve what I believed was the most important thing in my life.
30 hours ago, I was at work emailing friends and partners all over the world.
30 minutes ago, I was on a run dreaming up this post.
30 seconds ago, I was probably typing that 30 days line.

As I look at the points in time above, there is one that jumps out to me more than any other. My life certainly started thirty years ago, but my life as it is now began when I made the decision to take an internship with Amor Ministries, building homes for the needy in Mexico. This was the most difficult choice I had made in my life to that point. I went to San Diego to serve with Amor extremely excited and hopeful. I was convinced that I was aligning myself closer with God's will for my life. It was incredibly difficult leaving so many people and things back in Virginia, but the fruits of my decision came immediately. I moved in with Drewmate, who instantly became my best friend. I started my internship with Nick who also became my best friend (I also have a couple of best friends from back home). Flavin, Bobby, Jon, Blair, Dan, Jeff and so many others came along side me and led me as well. God blessed me at every turn. I have never felt at home in a place so quickly. I learned to truly serve others. Mexico was beautiful, and the people even more so. Every week was a new adventure as I took unique groups down south to build homes for poor families. The experiences were so impactful and frequent that I barely had time to process all of the wonderful things that God was doing in my life. I fell in love more deeply, richly and authentically than I ever had in my life. And just when I thought the blessings were over, I found beautiful mountain bike trails in Mexico. And then there was the music that enriched my life so much: Mike Barnet, Mumford, Bon Iver, Florence, MGMT, Fleet Foxes, Isa, Gotye, The Temper Trap, Future of Forestry, Sufjan Stevens and The Black Keys are just a few artists featured in the vastly improved soundtrack of my life. I was truly at peace.

Then came the hardest decision of my life. I had fully hit my stride and was totally happy in San Diego. I loved what I did, I loved the people I was surrounded by and I loved where I lived. Despite all this, I believed God was asking more of me. An opportunity arose with Amor to manage a remote location in Arizona, building homes on an Apache reservation. After much prayer, consideration and counsel, I decided to apply for the position. The truth is, I wondered why I put so much consideration into this decision, as I believed I had no chance at being hired for the job. Amazingly enough, I was given the opportunity to take over the program. Within a couple months, I was once again on the move, to live in Phoenix and build homes on the Apache reservation in San Carlos, AZ. I was wonderfully taken care of by my boss, Andy, and his wife and daughter, Erin and Avery. They gave me a family at a time when I really needed one. After living with them for about two months, I moved in with my new roommates, Colin and Ryan. These guys are total bros. My experience living with them couldn't have been more different than living with Drewmate and Nick, but they fed a totally different part of my soul and I love them so much (Cardigans at the Dark Horse!). The work on The Rez was much more challenging and really stretched me in ways that I wanted to be stretched as an employee, man and believer. I was growing and being challenged. Oh yeah, and Florence released a new album and that was cool too.

Then came the hardest decision of my life. I felt so much allegiance and love for Amor and it's mission, but my mother was getting sicker. I was consistently hearing things that made me wonder how much longer she would be around. I had a Christmas visit with the family when she spent the entire time in the hospital, then she had another three month stint in shortly afterward. I didn't want to leave San Carlos or all the wonderful people and places I loved in the southwest. I had to do what I felt was right for my family at the time, so I decided to leave Amor. About this time a close friend, Justin, told me about an opening working with international savings groups for HOPE International. The job seemed like a dream: International microeconomic development. I would get to travel all over the world spreading The Gospel and equipping people to better their socioeconomic conditions. The icing on the cake is that HOPE's headquarters was located just 25 miles from where my parents lived. I applied and interviewed, again with very little confidence that I would get the job. However, it was offered to me. Leaving Amor and the southwest seemed like one of the hardest things I could ever be asked to do. Once again, I packed all my things and with Nick at my side, made a two and a half day trip from Phoenix to PA (I finished with Amor on a Friday and started at HOPE the following Monday).

Of all my transitions, the one back to the east has been the toughest. I thought that with my experience in missions and accounting, I would hit the ground running in microeconomic development. However, it's been a little bit tougher than I expected. This sector is full of incredibly gifted, intelligent people who I am fortunate to be around and with whom I struggle to keep pace. However, I have joined a wonderful new family at HOPE. I also have my actual family with whom I now get to live and see every day. Since arriving back, my mother's health has improved considerably. I was also able to be around when my father suffered from a mild heart attack. Still, I'm struggling to find that feeling that I had when I was driving my beat up Tacoma in Mexico, helping teenagers and church groups build homes for the poor. Life's not always about how you feel though. Peace is often fleeting. It's the decisions you make and how they affect others that matter far more than how you feel about those decisions.

So here I am, watching the clock tick down to thirty. An age that just a month ago didn't matter to me in the least, now seems more significant every second. What have I learned? Time gives perspective. It also gives experience. These should add up to clear lessons. However, sometimes a glut of the two can make life very confusing. I've certainly had a lot of both in just under three years. I don't know if I've made all the right decisions and I don't know what's going to come of all this. What I do know is that there is redemption and opportunity available in every step of life. I can also say that I'm not always proud of the man I am but I am proud of the man I'm becoming. What else have I learned in the past thirty years? I don't know, I guess I'll take thirty more. And maybe another thirty after that. I'm a tough study.

One thing I do know is that I am so thankful to all the people that have gotten me through these past crazy thirty months. My life is so much richer for you. The soundtrack is better. The scenery, from Mexico, to the Arizonan high desert, to Haiti, India, California, The Philippines, Alabama, Virginia and Pennsylvania, has been incredible. To my family, all the people in this post, those that supported me at Amor, my old coworkers at Amor,  all the other friends along the way (Emily, Stacey, Jessica, Danielle, Bailey, Scotty Does, Matt, Bobby, Nicole, Stephanie, Karen and so many others), and my new family at HOPE, Thank you. God has shown himself to me through you and I hope that in this way I will be blessed to be a blessing. Cheers.

A tip of the glass.

Now picture me fully bearded (It is no shave November), running full steam into the future with this song blaring in my headphones, just as I was earlier this evening.

Wise Words

It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: "And this, too, shall pass away." How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!

-Abraham Lincoln, September 30, 1859