Chemistry

I love chemistry! For some reason it speaks to me in a very logical and sensible way. I think the table of elements is awesome. This weekend I was in Barnes and Noble when Jude and I discovered a beautifully illustrated book of the elements. I went page by page showing him the different ones and giving him a science lesson. I showed him Hydrogen and explained how it is the most abundant element in the universe. I explained how the noble gases (Helium, Argon, Neon) don't like to party with anyone, but Carbon and Oxygen are great party people. We talked about metals and gases for quite a bit. It is funny because I have had Aluminum Oxide (Al2O3) on my mind recently.

What are we but a collection of elements? If we are 80% water, then we are mostly Hydrogen and Oxygen, but we are also largely Carbon. Add in Iodine, Magnesium, Calcium and others and you have a human being. If you were to collect proportional amounts of these elements and cost them out, the human being is worth $4.50. It isn't the value of the person I want to talk about though. It is the chemistry of people. I think it is funny how we are all comprised of the same elements and yet sometimes have very different reactions to each other. How is it that I can be best friends with someone, while another person can't stand them?

There was a commercial for Dow Chemical that declared the promise of the Human Element. I believe if there is any human element it is the very life we live. While some live an inert life others are quite ionic. This polarization at the molecular level is the very thing that draws or repels us to one another. This seems quite logical to me and yet we fight this idea everyday. We tell ourselves that we need to get along with someone because...they are family, we work with them, or it is the right thing to do. I don't believe that we are called to be best friends with everyone. Christ says we will have enemies. We are to pray for them and we also are called to live in peace with all men, but that doesn't mean a thriving friendship. In fact I think sometimes we can best live at peace with people by just staying away from them. Let me encourage you today to simplify your life, take control of your emotions and stop dabbling in dangerous chemistry.

This is what happens when you slam elements into each other.

425

I got an early Christmas present this morning. After 425 days I was asked to bring the devotional message to a church staff. The pastor, having seen my recovery and after following the leading of the Holy Spirit invited me to share God's word. It was unbelievable to have such an honor again. I have been smiling all morning.

I am so blessed two have the two best presents I could have ever asked for; my family and a chance to minister. What a wonderful Christmas!!!

What's the difference?

There are some things in life that it is hard to tell the difference. Some claim they can identify the difference between Coke and Pepsi, but when you get right down to it they are both brown sugar water. Sometimes the generic is better than the name brand. When living in MI I loved Meijer brand products. Their frozen pizzas and raisins were better than the national brands. Sometimes it just doesn't matter if you pick A or B.

But there are times where the decision you make is vital and the role you play crucial. I was reminded of that yesterday when I was confronted with what we do at my work, compared to what others in the field are doing. There is a difference between benevolence and social work. We are fighting for the self sufficiency of our clients. There are some that would like to coddle and lull people into complacency.

As I see it you can do one of three things in social work. You can bandage; this involves throwing money with little time at a problem. You can medicate; this involves a lot of time with little resource at the problem. Or you can cure; this is about giving both time and resource in right measure and empowering the individual to heal. We cure! We are not 100% successful, but nothing is. It is inappropriate to look at the 1% or less and deem our efforts as futile or incomplete.

That is the difference.

C is for more than just cookie

"I, like God, do not play with dice and do not believe in coincidence." -V for Vendetta

I know there are some people that believe in luck and happenstance, but I am not one of them. Don't get me wrong, I am not the person who believes the devil is under every rock or goes looking for Jesus in a tortilla. But I do think there is much to be explained in the world by the linked timing of events. I think even when we can't see the whole picture, the present is bringing us into the future.

For instance, I have been challenged recently with my faith. I haven't lost any part of my faith or strayed, but some ill timed actions have been suspect. I don't believe it is even the fault of any person, it is unfortunate that it has involved others. If you aren't aware, I am on the Devil's most wanted list. I really do believe that. People that know me intimately and know everything I have been through, are stunned at the evil present in my story.

I am asking my friends to keep me in your prayers. I am strong now, actually stronger than I have ever been. But I know that I am not kept by my will and I need your support. Pray that I follow closely after Him. Pray that as I draw nearer to God and His will for my life, that the temptation would be held at bay. Thank you for your support.

It is good

"Then I was beside Him as a master craftsman; and I was daily His delight, rejoicing always before Him" Proverbs 8:30

I love this verse because I see a relationship between God and myself that is about creativity. He is the creator of all things and His imagination is unparalleled, but He has given us a portion of this attribute as well. I love to create! Whether it is food or art, as long as I am making something and using my imagination I love it. It is in the midst of these creative bursts that I feel like I am doing what I was made to do.

Imagine, I am His loved creation; with the best He had he made me. He rejoices when His creation creates. The way that I feel about my work is minuscule compared to how he feels about me. Some times when I have made something really special I show it off and think about it for a while. I imagine God so excited about me that He can't stop showing off His creation. I am on His mind and He dances over me.

I hope that you understand that you are His most magnificent creation and He thinks you are beautiful. He thought you were so wonderful that He couldn't imagine eternity without you. He was willing to give the life of His son as your ransom. Not that you would be condemned, but that you could be rescued. "O how marvelous! O how wonderful! Is my Savior's love for me!"

Say cheese

I had a funny experience this weekend. First let me begin with a little context. My church is decorated for Christmas in the most beautiful way. The wall surrounding the platform is covered in a shiny, metallic blue fabric. There are snowflakes hanging from the ceiling and large snowflakes on the platform. The lighting is done in a chilly blue and the ambiance is just wonderful. With this winter wonderland occurring in a place that means very much to me, I wanted to get a picture of my family with this backdrop.

I asked the executive pastor last week if it would be ok if we went on the platform before service to get a photo and he said it was fine. But as we were going up I hesitated. I realized that I am not able to do whatever I would like there and some people don't know me and might question my activity. We went up, took the photo and sat back down. But I still felt uneasy. This is completely different from my experiences from the last 10 years in my church life. Before I was so involved or actually in authority that everyone knew me and would never say anything. I did as I pleased and didn't think twice about it.

I can't wait for the day when I am that involved and vested in my church that I don't think twice about something as simple as a photo. I can't wait until I can help with the ministry and be useful around the church. Until then, I will cherish this time and relax. I will wait on restoration and be content with what I have. Most of all I will continue to enjoy memories like these.

Paper clip

Fatigue: : the tendency of a material to break under repeated stress. (Merriam Webster)

Have you ever worked a piece of metal back and forth until it snapped? That is my best definition of fatigue. That is how I feel right now. I feel like the same actions are occurring over and over. If left to repeat it will take its toll. The funny thing is, I am not sure how.

Right now my relationship with my family is as strong as ever and my faith walk is solid. I have a resolve that is unwavering and my tenacity is ever present. So I am confused as to what this fatigue is about. Perhaps I have been in the waiting place too long. This in between world I am in, where nothing is finite. I don't know, but I am feeling the strain. Perhaps it is a good fatigue. Is there such a thing?

I don't know if you have ever noticed or bothered to understand, but the name of my blog is "Soliloquy's echo". A soliloquy is the internal monologue of one's self. The echo is what you get to read. I love to share of myself and let you really know what is going on inside of me. Hence the name. Just thought I would share.

20/20

“Don’t be afraid,” the prophet answered. “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” -2 Kings 6:16


One of my favorite stories in all of Scripture is found in 2 Kings 6. The prophet Elisha is encamped and surrounded by an enemy. His servant begins to freak out, but Elisha knows better. The prophet prays that God would open the spiritual eyes of the servant. At once he sees the Army of the Lord surrounding them and he knows that everything will be alright.


So many times I have had the awesome experience to be given spiritual sight. These moments are the things I turn to when ever I need a reminder of what is real. I wanted to share with you, so by hearing you too will be encouraged.


It was my pleasure to help a local mission every Thanksgiving give out food. My job every year was to pray with people as they came through. One year it was very snowy and the majority of the people came early. This left us with a lot of down time on our hands. From the loft the sound of melody filled the room. The Hispanic members has begun to sing in Spanish. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but I was caught up in worship regardless. Within minutes the room was filled with the tangible spirit of the living God. Without a  physical catalyst, a wind swept through the room. It was unlike anything I had ever felt. It didn't just blow against me, it blew through me. It was the very wind that the disciples felt at Pentecost.


Every Saturday the ministry staff took three hours and did home visitation. We were a small urban church, but had a good social ministry to build from. We arrived at an apartment building and went in and up the stairs. While climbing the stairs I seemed to be able to feel a tension. We knocked on the door, but no one answered. We turned to leave, but I was being drawn toward the apartment. I made it to the stairs, but by the third stair I could barely move. Before I hit the landing, my legs were locked and I was crying uncontrollably. The group of us recognizing that God was moving, stopped and prayed over the building. I never found out why, but God revealed just enough that day.


During the Christmas season I would be at the church from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed. Finding me there was an easy task. One slow, cold day a man walked in and told me he had been walking for miles and asked if he could sit down. We talked for a while and just relaxed. When he was ready to leave, I got him a bus pass. When I went to place it in his hand I was a ring with an upside down pentagram on it. I tapped the ring and said, "I think you will find more power in a cross". He chuckled and said, "yeah, I have heard that." He turned and walked out. After he left, I turned to walk back to the table. I was shoved into the table. There wasn't any one in the room with me.


One of the Saturday's I was supposed to be doing visitation I walked in the office to meet up with the youth pastor. All the lights were off and I could hear crying. I walked into his office to find him on the floor and crying. I asked what was wrong and he told me that his uncle, whom he was very close to, had died. He began to sob even harder. At that moment I heard a voice say, "When your brother weeps, you will weep with him." I immediately began to cry like I had lost a loved one. I sat on the floor with him and we both mourned.


While typing these stories I have cried and been filled with the awe of God. I hope that you can be encouraged by my witness, but even more so I hope that your spiritual eyes are open.

Perpendicular

There are so many great things in my life right now. I have my family living so close to me, I have a wonderful church and I am employed. God's blessings abound in my life and yet something is missing. I lack friends. Now I know you might jump to being offended, but when is the last time we talked on the phone or hung out? When did I come over to your house last? See, even though we are friendly and e-share ourselves, it isn't the same.

One of my problems with making friends is my personality. First off I am very abrasive. I am not everyone's cup of tea. Actually I am more like hemlock than tea. I am very opinionated and usually feel free to share that opinion. Secondly, I am not the most manly man. Truth be told I like doing girly stuff. I love shopping and I love to talk. Some of my closest friends in life have been women. Women really share themselves, where guys are hostile and distant. One of my friends who is a woman once said, "Chris you make a great girlfriend." Most guys would take offense to this, but not me. I am more than comfortable with my own sexuality, but also the sentiment is endearing. What she was saying is that I could relate to women.

My cross to bear is a physical or emotional attraction will eventually develop with a woman. I love this back and forth from "When Harry met Sally":

Harry: You realize of course that we could never be friends.
Sally: Why not?
Harry: What I'm saying is — and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form — is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.
Sally: That's not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.
Harry: No you don't.
Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: No you don't.
Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: You only think you do.
Sally: You say I'm having sex with these men without my knowledge?
Harry: No, what I'm saying is they all want to have sex with you.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: How do you know?
Harry: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Sally: So you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?
Harry: No, you pretty much want to nail 'em too.
Sally: What if they don't want to have sex with you?
Harry: Doesn't matter because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.
Sally: Well, I guess we're not going to be friends then.
Harry: Guess not.
Sally: That's too bad. You were the only person that I knew in New York.

There are women that I think are super cool and would make a great friend, but unfortunately both emotions and sex get in the way. It is sad to know that there are people I can't get close to, because I can't trust myself. But my success as a man of God is contingent on my virtue and righteousness. It would be great if I could find a guy who wanted to shop and talk, but then I might have a completely new problem. ;) Haha!

7x70

I have a theological quagmire and I would value your input. No matter how well versed we are with Scripture or how in tune we are with God's will, we shouldn't pastor ourselves. We are too close to the issue and can't see clearly.

Is it right to forgive someone if they don't believe they have wronged you and/or won't apologize?

Let me give you some of my thoughts, then you can give me yours. Shouldn't we look at the example that God has set for forgiveness? He demands repentance before absolution. What about Scripture as a standard? No where in the Bible is a story of forgiveness for someone who didn't apologize. Even our human nature, which I know is not a great standard, cries out for closure.

If we don't forgive the unrepentant then what shall we say then? Do we ignore, forget or move on? I don't know, but I have been hurt by someone(s) and I don't see an admission of guilt or apology coming...well, ever.

Crystal sea

I have been asked to share my thoughts about suicide and the theology regarding this issue. Let me give you some background. I went to a conservative church that was instrumental in my early formative faith. Not conservative in a political sense, but they were that too. They held to a literal interpretation of English Scripture. I was raised believing that if the NIV said so, it must be true. There is a huge problem with this! Translations often are not representative of culture or tone. To truly know what the word of God says, we have to dig deeper. Also, I had not truly lived my faith or had any real world experience. Early on I believed suicide was a one way ticket to hell.

The first month I was out of seminary I had was challenged. At 6:30 in the morning I got a call from my secretary. She told me that the night before, her daughter had leapt to her death off of a building. I immediately began counseling the family and supporting them in every way I could. While sitting with the family they asked, "Is Melissa in Heaven?" I said the only true words a pastor can say, "I don't know." But I left their house that afternoon determined to make up my mind.

This is what I know. Suicide is not a new phenomenon. People have been ending their own life for thousands of years. While scripture talks about taking the life of someone else, it does not speak about suicide. People will tell you that when Scripture speaks of murder that this includes suicide. However, these people are inserting ideas into Scripture and not doing justice to the word of God. Murder is clearly an act committed against someone else, no other definition is available.

If we are talking about what will send you to hell we need to get somethings straight. We are all justly condemned to an eternity in hell for the sin we have committed. Hell isn't for bad people, hell is for every one. The difference in why some will spend eternity in anguish and why some will spend eternity in paradise, is grace. Grace means you are getting something even though you didn't deserve it or earn it. Grace is freely given by God to those who are in relationship with Him. It is truly that simple. If you have chosen to follow after God, love Him and obey His commandments; He will forgive you when you repent. The person who lives this life receives grace and will go to Heaven.

So then the question becomes, "Is suicide a sin?" What is sin? Sin is knowing what right and wrong is and purposely choosing wrong. When I look at someone who is suicidal I see a few things. First, reality is no longer tangible. The person who is suicidal has a distorted view of what is really taking place. They believe that there are no other answers and that everything is lost. The truth is, most people who commit suicide still have many options, they just can't see them. This type of desperation removes reason and the ability to think clearly. Also, the suicidal haven't chosen to be sick. Their depression has over taken them and there is nothing they can do to change. Lastly, self preservation is an innate instinct in each one of us. It is what allows people to live through the most horrible situations. When that is no longer present, your brain is no longer functioning properly. This is what I believe: Suicidal people don't know right from wrong and they certainly can't choose anything but what their depression demands of them.

The day of the funeral, I spoke to the family directly and declared with all the confidence in me that Melissa was in Heaven. Given what I know of who God is and what His word says, I couldn't believe anything but she received grace. She didn't have to do anything to be given the gift of grace. Now, I won't say that everyone who commits suicide gets a free pass to Heaven. There had to have been a relationship with God at some point before the suicide. But for those who are called by His name and become mentally ill, I believe their is a savior.

Help wanted

I am a communicator. It is essentially who I am and why I exist. If I can't share an idea or teach a concept I am lost. Right now I am bottled up and need release. I have this outlet, but no subject. I need your help.

Please leave me a comment with a suggestion of a topic to write on. It can be about anything. Challenge me to something you think I don't know or ask me to expound on something from my life. I will write on anything that is suggested, but then you have to read it.

Shhh!

I am terrible at keeping secrets. Well, maybe I should preface that a little. I am terrible at keeping my own secrets. I always have to tell someone. Like when I purchase a gift, I feel the need to tell someone. With Christmas approaching I am filled with excitement and anticipation for opening presents. When at the store with my kids and they comment about something they are getting, I am bursting on the inside.

I was thinking about this Christmas season and the secret we carry around. It is the reason for Christmas and the savior of the world. This Christmas will you share with a secular celebrator the secret they need to hear? I have invited some of my friends to my church for the Christmas Eve service. I think I can do better than that though. After all, I would tell any of them what I bought my kids for Christmas and that has nothing to do with them. I am going to try to be horrible about keeping this secret.

Phoenix

(Con't...)
Even though Sarah went through with the divorce, she was fired anyway. Without a job or direction, she moved with the kids to KC. Needing help she is living in a house owned by her church. However, she has been told that if she reconciles with me she will have to vacate the premise within two months. As much as I would like to mend things with her, our current economic situation would prevent any such restoration.

When trying to find a job after losing mine, I realized how hard it is without a degree. I decided that I should go to college and secure my future. After finding a college with a good reputation and finding a major, I applied for aid. I was accessed by the income I made last year. Including all of my benefits I made $80k last year. Needless to say, my aid wasn't great. I almost wasn't able to go to school, except a miracle was waiting. I told my boss about my disappointment of not being able to go to school. She spoke with her boss and even though there isn't a reimbursement program at my work, they wrote my books into the training budget. I am currently working on my Bachelor's of Public Administration.

This year I am spending Christmas with my family and I am enjoying every minute of it. I don't have social work, fundraising or HR issues driving me nuts. I have even been whistling Christmas songs.

My life story continues or ends here. If you are a passive observer of my life, this is the end of the road. If you are my friend and a contributor, this is just the turning of a page. Either way, thanks for getting to know me.

Smoke and mirrors

(Con't...)
The next month can be best characterized by "fantasy". Not in a good way, but the idea of having lost touch with reality. In order to keep my sanity from having just lost everything important to me, I surrounded myself in delusion. I convinced myself that this what I really wanted and that I was happy. I lived with the woman for about a month, but split it off when reality started to come around again.

My wife and I had been talking and were still friends. Around Christmas time we were very close again and knew that our love was still alive and active. However, when some people found out that we were still in love there was a backlash. If Sarah wanted to protect her financial well being and the children's welfare, she couldn't be with me. She was threatened with huge loss if she didn't go through with the divorce.

Seeing no future in the Detroit metro, I sought refuge. My brother-in-law and his family were gracious and offered to take me in while I searched for a job. The day I left for Kansas City was the second saddest day of my life. Even looking at the photos from that day make me cry. I arrived in KC both excited and depressed. After months of looking for the right job, I was hired at Catholic Charities and started on June 7th.

During this time I sunk into a depression. On June 8th my divorce went through and 4903 days of marriage came to an end. To cope with my world collapsing I did what came naturally to me, I lied and and deceived. When my deceit and posturing came to light, I had hurt many people. On June 12, 2010 I was kicked out of my brother-in-law's house and I became homeless. That night I slept in the parking lot of a Walmart, in my car.

The next morning I composed myself in the Walmart bathroom and changed my clothes. It was a Sunday and there was only one place I wanted to be, church. I arrived at church early and sat at a table. When I saw the pastor I asked if I could have a minute of his time. I told him what happened and I wept. He stepped away and came back minutes later. He informed me that I would not spend another night in my car. Since that Sunday I have been living in a house that my church owns. Their grace and compassion have sustained me in my most desperate hour.

Mudville

(Con't...)
The winter of 2008 I bought a motorcycle. It was beautiful and I got a great deal on it. By that spring I was riding everywhere and it was a great way to relax. I would take my family for rides around the neighborhood and even some of the church kids. My first year I put over 2500 miles on it.

The spring of 2009 brought many spiritual highs in my life. Sarah and I found out that we were invited as staff to a bible camp (CBLI) that summer. My ministry was exploding and people were coming to Christ and growing. A LGBT ministry was given to me and was very rewarding. I started a discipleship program, but when I couldn't find material I liked I wrote my own. We had a large family come to our church because they were unhappy with the large flagship church. We started a brass band for worship. It was truly amazing.

One of the people that came to our church from the larger church was a young lady. She had been hurt by people in the church and needed support. I would talk with her and try to help her understand that God's view of her was greater than her own or the mean people that had mistreated her. My pastoral enthusiasm was mistaken for affection and she began to flirt with me. I asked her to stop and she did. It would happen a few more times and finally I stopped asking her to stop. I had crossed the line. On July 13, 2009 I lost touch with where the line was. My motorcycle became the "excuse" I would have to be out and gone for hours at a time. The thing that gave me so much freedom, ended up sealing my tomb.

On Monday November 2, at a special meeting; I told my congregation that I had made a decision to leave my family and to leave my calling. I don't remember much from that night, but I remember it feeling like a funeral. After the meeting people came next door to our house and cried and hugged me. Some told me they loved me and some told me they were mad at me. It all felt so surreal and I was numb. The next day I moved out of the house and left my family. I sat in my apartment as they drove away and I cried.

Bright lights

(Con't...)
Seminary was the best two year vacation of my life. I shouldn't say that, there were times of stress. Like how to make 2 pages of actual work into 10 pages. That is not easy! I can't forget all the sleepless nights sitting in front of a computer screen listening to the cheering from Wrigley field while I ate the best Thai food this side of Bangkok. My claim to fame above all else happened my last quarter of my last year. I have to rewind a little first. The first few weeks were hectic and confusing. I didn't have time to read my first assignment in OT survey. To my surprise, when I showed up to class the teach read it to us verbatim. Naturally, I soon figured out that those who can't teach, recite. After the first quarter I hadn't read any assignments and was getting A's and B's. Classes would come and go I would be thriving without reading. Finally at the very end of schooling I came to the conclusion that I was going to end my academic career without reading and there was no need for the books. After all, I could save the school some money if I didn't use them. I went to the education office and told them I wouldn't be picking up my books and that they could keep them. This was fine until my friend Mindie thought it a good idea to share this with a teacher. Regardless, I was able to still graduate with a 3.5 GPA and was ordained.

I will never forget commissioning Sunday. Specifically the appointment ceremony and the events leading up to it. I had the feeling for weeks that we were going to Farmington Hills MI for our first appointment. I was told by a session mate that I wasn't good enough to go there. Moments before the ceremony began, my friend Jennifer Spencer told Sarah and I that she hoped we moved close to her. I told her, "I really think we are going to Farmington Hills." As we stood on the stage in front of the Commissioner I could only think of one thing, "If he says the word 'assist', I might cry." With a deep, jubilant declaration he said, "Chris and Sarah, I am appointing you to.................(seriously this long)......................................Farmington Hills MI." Well, duh! I knew that already. It was still great to hear though.

Our first few years in Farmington were awesome! It was divine providence that we were placed there and at that time. Sarah and I had been praying for our first appointment since before training, but had no idea that we would be so well taken care of. The people were wonderful and the ministry was abundant. Within my first two months I got to help a family that would change my view of ministry. Mark came to me with his wife and told me about how they lost everything their kids were staying with friends, while they slept in the back of a U-Haul truck. Over the next few years I walked a long road with Mark and his family through sobriety, landlord issues and legal troubles. Today Mark calls me every Sunday to tell me he is in church and to tell me how God has blessed him. You see Mark is making about $75k/yr and is doing quite well for himself. He has been sober for 6.5 years (minus one day) and is a mouthpiece for Christ. I loved my ministry in Farmington Hills and the people that were my family there.

Chutes and ladders

(Con't...)
I was perfectly content with my lack of involvement and wishy washy Christianity, however God was not. A revival came to town and I was talked into going. It was five nights and so help me if I wasn't there every single one. The strangest thing happened while I was attending, I began to listen. Since my goal of going to church at that point was to make my wife happy and fulfill a divine to-do list, this was real progress. I realized that I had been making a mockery of faith and not living like I got saved from anything. I went forward during the altar call, but didn't read the fine print.

The next night at the revival I received my call into ministry. It hit me like a tidal wave and the passion grew inside of me. I couldn't think of doing anything else. There was only one problem, I had no idea what I was doing or a history to fall back on. When I told my pastor about this new found revelation in my life I expected to get a runaround. To my surprise she already knew this was coming and put me in charge of teaching the teen Sunday School. WHAT?!!! I didn't know anything about teaching a Sunday School class, I didn't even go myself. And teenagers?

After a while of teaching Sunday School and learning several don'ts of ministry, I decided I wanted to be in it full-time. Beckie approached the corps council about hiring me as the youth pastor. They didn't hire me. It would be another year before a ministry position would open. This time the council said they didn't want to hire me because I was going to training. News to me! I wasn't going to training and Sarah was furiously opposed to the idea. Following the council rejecting me...again, Beckie overruled them and hired me anyway.

A year later I received my calling to be a pastor. The problem in this was Sarah was still diametrically opposed to the idea. I decided I would drop the bomb on her at the ministry conference that year. As we showed up we were asked if we there for lay ministry or if we were there for the pre-pastoral track. Before I could even answer Sarah says, "Pre-pastoral". We arrived at our hotel room and I decided to tell her what was on my heart and present my case. I mustered up my courage and said, "I think we are being called into the ministry." Waiting for her rejection I prepared my well rehearsed speech. She replied, "I know." I thought, "What? What do you mean you know? No, no, no, I have rehearsed this speech and I am going to give it."

It wasn't as easy as just showing up to seminary. I had to have enough income for a family of five to last two years and I needed in 6 months. On top of that I needed to sell my house. Our budget was all wrong and to go along with that the realtor said our house wasn't going to sell for what we needed, which was $100k. After a ton of work that Sarah put into getting it ready, we put the house on the market on July 3rd. July fourth being a holiday nothing happened, but on July 5th we got a call from our realtor and he asked for a meeting. He came to our house that night and told us we had two competing offers on the house. To his amazement they were both for $120k. It was a surplus of $20k and was enough to take care of everything. He said, "I have never seen anything like this." To which I replied, "We are wanted in Chicago."

Movin' on up

(Con't...)
I knew from early on in my relationship with Sarah that I was going to marry that girl. She was funny and beautiful and wanted to take care of me. She and I were oil and water, but that is exactly what was so great about us together. For Sarah's first Mother's day I picked her up for dinner. We went to a restaurant at a local golf course and had dinner. Following our meal we went for a walk on the path around the course. When we turned around to head back she saw the course marquee that read "Sarah Wheeler will you marry me?" By the time she turned around, I was on one knee and had the ring out. She screamed so loud I thought someone would call the police.

The August following Dayton's birth I cried like I had never before. Seeing as Sarah was only 17 she was still living with her parents. It was that year that they got moved and Sarah and Dayton moved with them. My fiance and son moved eight hours away. We would talk everyday and would go see each other every month, but it wasn't good enough. The wedding that was originally scheduled for the next summer would be moved up...quickly. On January 4, 1997 I took the hand of my best friend and was married.

For two teenagers, one of which was still in high school, we didn't have any money or any common sense. We lived in the basement of my parents house following the wedding, but as you can imagine that was not the best fit for a newlywed couple. In September 1997 we bought our first house. It was cute and quaint. A two bedroom starter home that was in a quiet little Minneapolis neighborhood. It was our corner of paradise and it fit us perfectly.

During this time we had made a large transition in our church life as well. We had been attending the larger, classier church in the area. It had everything, but it wasn't for us. We stopped attending for a while, but under conviction decided to go again. This time we would go to a smaller, urban church that appeared to be as mediocre as possible. It was there that Dayton didn't cry when left in the nursery. It was there that the people genuinely were happy to have us there. It was there that I met a pastor that would kindle a fire in me.

Mark and Jennifer Van Meter were the pastors at our church for only 10 months. They were not everyone's cup of tea, but for me it was exactly what I needed. He spoke of a wretched life that was redeemed. He spoke the Word with confidence and authority. When they were moved we were devastated. But again, God had just what we needed in store. A little spitfire named Beckie Stearns and her even keeled husband Doug.

We'll be right back

(Con't...)
I graduated high school in late May 1995. Three weeks later I found out that I was going to be a daddy. I remember Sarah being too scared to look at the pregnancy test. She sat on the couch while I walked into the bathroom and saw my double lined destiny. The fear overtook me and I cried. Sarah and I would break up for a few months during her pregnancy because I was a coward and couldn't man up to my responsibility. But eventually our love was too great to keep us a part.

During this time a part I was working evenings at Target. I came home one night and turned on the TV. I flipped through the channels and found a news type program that was speaking of God. I was fascinated and watched that night and several nights to come. Jack Van Impe and his wife were speaking of end times prophesies and how the current state of the world matched against Scripture. I loved this approach to faith as it sparked the part of me that loved current events and world politics. One night at the end of the show Jack said, "I know someone watching tonight has been running from God. You need to stop running away and begin running to Him. If this is you, I want you to pray this prayer with me." It was me! I know many people were watching that program that night, but it was me that he was talking to. I fell to my knees, cried and was saved on my living room floor. Yes, I got saved by a televangelist.

I remember the day my son Dayton was born. It was cold, the 22nd of February, and I was out of my mind scared. I remember standing in the hospital parking ramp all alone, looking out over the Minneapolis skyline, and praying for my newborn son. My faith walk would look more like a drunken stagger for a couple of years. But eventually it would be a former drug-user and a white trash, urban church that would give me some class.

Are You There God? It's Me, Chris.

(Con't...)
I had been an altar boy for a couple of years and was well adjusted living in Minnesota. In the seventh grade I moved to Connecticut and tried to adjust to East Coast living. Nothing was the same. My friends had been calm and well behaved boys. Now I hung out with rough, thieving, drinking hooligans. I had gone to a church that cared about me and where I was a valued member. Now I sat in a stagnant hollowed hall. I tried to be an altar boy there, but it wasn't the same.

My effort in school dropped to nothing. I started drinking alcohol and stealing. Finally when I had given up on the nice young man I had been, I gave up on God. I had determined that there couldn't be a God because of intellectual reasons. I reasoned away God into science and rationale. Even though I was certain to drive his existence out of my life, I retained the right to say I could be wrong. I was agnostic, not atheistic. It was my compromise that I believed would appease a deity if there was one and I was wrong.

My next four or five years were filled with alcohol, crime and suicidal thoughts. I was an avid drinker. My buddy and I could drink a pint of scotch by the eighth grade. When I got to high school I was drinking close to a fifth to "party". I have committed horrible crimes and hurt people. I am guilty of larceny, breaking and entering, burglary, conspiracy, battery, assault and racketeering. When I was 15 I started to have thoughts of suicide. I couldn't live with who I had become and my life had no direction or purpose. I began to hear unintelligible voices screaming in my head at night. By 16 I had planned my suicide and wrote my goodbye letter. I had a revolver that I was going to use to end my life.

During this time I met a girl named Sarah Wheeler. She was a friend of my sister's and she was really cute. We began dating and got really close. There was a slight complication. Her parent's rule was, "If you can take her out on Saturday, you can join us on Sunday." I was being coerced into going to church so I could...well...you know. For the first time, in a long time I was feeling accepted. I was going to church and even though I really wasn't listening, I wasn't rejecting. It was in the basement of the Wheeler's home, on their computer, that I found a bible verse. "He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end." Ecc 3:11 This verse caused me to think, "Was it possible that the reason I used to disprove God, was His design all along, and I am subject to a divine 'Where's Waldo'?"

1.00794

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, “Let there be Chris,” and there was Chris. God saw that the Chris was good..."

Well maybe it didn't happen exactly like that; but the truth is, like everything else in this world, I had a beginning. I was born to Curt and Carol DiMaso on April 5, 1977. My parents turned 30 the year I was born. I don't know much about my first year, but I have been told I was the most beautiful baby ever. It is hard to argue with such logic. I would be given a sister, Lacey, two years later. We were a suburban, Catholic family.

My earliest memories are of being with my family and going places with my mom. She was very dedicated to my early development. When I entered kindergarten I could already read and could count over 100. I spent my first few years in Catholic school and I was even taught by nuns. Third grade was a tough year for me. I left the parochial nest and also moved twice. Having three third grades and moving in and out of curriculum caused me to fall through the cracks. Where I once was a stellar student, I now felt that no one cared. For the rest of my school career I would feel alone and confused about my education.

Throughout my formative period I was taken to church, went through Catholicism and received my first communion. In the fourth grade I was able to become an altar boy and I was so proud. Many times I was the only person in my family that would attend church. I knew from an early age that serving God was what I was made to do, I just didn't know where it would take me.

NIB

Collectors of just about every kind of product know what NIB means. NIB are three little words that change a knickknack from interesting novelty to valuable collectible. I of course speak of New In Box. It is the status of something that means it has been preserved in it's original packaging and hasn't been handled. Something can be fifty or sixty years old and look like it was just placed on the Woolworth's shelf for sale.

I think I am one of these antiques that is new in box. I would consider myself an old soul, a lover of a time forgot. That isn't to say that I don't like anything about our modern era. I am not going to go without my cell phone, computer or TV. However, there is something so appealing about a Rockwell type evening with a fireplace and the radio playing music. Children playing on the floor while I read the evening paper. The smell of dinner in the air and the wife is setting the table in a house dress. I know it is cliché or even stereotypically melancholy, but I think it is delightful.

That got me thinking. Do you know who I am? I know some of you know me better than I know myself. But my guess is that many of you read my blog and try to figure out who I am by the topic of the day. This isn't a very good way to get to know someone as it is reflective only of the flavor of the day. I think my next few entries will concentrate on the essentials of Chris.

P.S.- I hope you like the design change on my blog. I thought it was time for a change.

Empty seats

There is nothing in this world that I enjoy like a Sunday morning full of Spirit led, Christ centered worship. When it comes to bringing this world into the throne room, no one does it like my church. I look forward to that time every week and go to sleep Saturday night with a joyful anticipation for the morning ahead. There have been Sundays where I have walked in to find a guest preacher or a different worship leader and thought, "Oh man, I have been waiting for this and now it won't be the same." And my initial thought has been right every time, it wasn't the same. However it was exactly what God had for me and I was blessed beyond measure.

There is one thing that makes my Sunday morning less than perfect. More often than not, I sit alone. Five rows from the front on the left side is where you can find me any given Sunday. I am there at least 10 min early in order to prepare my tithe and say hi to some folks. But when 9 O'clock hits I am sitting waiting for the worship team to take the stage and I am...alone. During worship I am in a transcendent state, arms raised in submission and heart humbled, but I am alone. During the sermon I listen intently to the word of God that is always presented in an intelligent and well thought out manner, but I am alone. During the altar call I am often found in a moment of commitment and dedication, but I am alone. And just as I entered, worshipped, learned and responded, I leave...alone.

I don't tell you this to sell a tale of woe or to make myself seem like a martyr. I tell you this because I want to tell you what it means to me when my family visits. You see it wouldn't be worth much if I liked being alone in worship, but as it is I don't. My family shows up at my church and I greet them in the back parking lot. We wind our way to the lobby and get the kids hot chocolate. Following the refreshments we take the boys to children's church and then Ruby to her classroom. Sarah, Dayton and I go into the sanctuary and prepare for worship. Now I enter, worship, learn and respond just as before, but now I am with those I love. This little difference is the difference between a great Sunday of worship and an excellent Sunday of worship.

Smooth like butter

I love crooner style music. The mellow melodies and heart-felt lyrics appeal to a deep part of my soul. I am listening to Michael Buble & Harry Connick Jr. right now and thinking about how much I would like a blanket and a good cup of coffee. I could curl up on the couch and just sit for hours and chat with a good friend. I think that people have given up to easily on the finer, slower things of life. I just am not interested in hustle and bustle, there is no intrinsic value to such a lifestyle.

Even the act of going out on the town has been replaced with jam packed malls and one day only sales of madness. What have happened to promenades and plazas adorned with gentlemen looking dapper and ladies on their arms? An evening filled with dinner and dancing has been replaced with a movie and Applebee's. It is the echo of civilization, but it lacks the vivid expression of life. I long for the day that I can personally resurrect this lost culture of yesteryear.

Killing me softly

I hate my asthma! I am sitting here struggling to breathe and it sucks. I don't know what it is, but something causes my air way to constrict and my breathing to become labored. It used to scare me when I would struggle to breathe. I went to the ER shortly after moving to St. Louis as a teenager, because the air quality was so poor. Coupled with the humidity, StL was a death trap.

I am considerably older now and I am less scared of my asthma. This is usually where I would have a point and transition from my illustration, but I am too weak from a lack of air. Goodnight!

W/e ikr

Most of the time I despise popular culture, at least as it pertains to 14 year old girls. I am an avid texter and as such have adapted slightly to the texting culture. That is to say I use some of the nomenclature of the electronic age. However there are some things I just won't say. I don't do ROFL. Every time I see this I pronounce it out. Roffle. It makes me chuckle. I also am not a fan of LMAO. Perhaps it is my prevailing lack of A that inhibits my use or just that I am saving the term for something truly funny. Come what may, I will never refer to someone as my bff. I don't care how close we are, it is just insipid.

That is not to say that I don't have best friends or even very close friends. I have been thinking a lot about the people that mean something to me and why. That got me thinking of you. Yes, you! The reader of my blog. You mean a great deal to me. One of the things that I value highly is being understood and you are trying to understand me. That is awesome!!! (Yes, I triple exclamation point) Whether you just started reading today or you have walked this long and winding road for a while, thank you. I value your reading and also your comments. My friend I hope you have a blessed holiday.

Five

This week on SNL there was a bit where Kristen Wiig's character tries to one up everyone. She always has to be better or do more than others. A woman shared that this holiday she was "thankful for..." She was promptly interrupted by this character, to which she said "Well, this holiday I am thankful five." Five being one more than four (for). This got me thinking about how thankful I am, and yes I might be just a little more than you. Before Thanksgiving comes and I am so busy cooking and getting so high on Tryptophan that I can't move, I wanted to share with you my "list".

I am thankful for a family that desires reconciliation. I have done many bad things in my life and I have paid many different prices for my sin, but never have I felt anguish like losing my family. I have been out of their daily lives now for over a year. Living elsewhere and most of that time very far away. But now I am within 15 min and see them 4-5 times a week. I have been re-accepted as a part of the family and even given respect as daddy. Everyday that passes our family gets closer and the love grows deeper. This Thanksgiving I am thankful five my family.

I am thankful for a church that values restoration. This year I became homeless and for the first time in my life was completely alone. In the midst of my fear and desperation, they were the hands and feet of Jesus. One of the elders told me, "We don't care what you've done, we care about who you're to be." Grace has been amazing at Englewood. Without them I may not be writing this today. This Thanksgiving I am thankful five my church.

I am thankful for a God who loves a repentant heart. In the past year I have sought God many times. Sometimes half-hearted, sometimes with all my might. I have given lip service and been broken. Even with this on again off again relationship, when I came with all sincerity and humbled myself He forgave me. He didn't just forgive me, but reassured me I was still His. I am living proof that there is nothing that can separate you from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus. This Thanksgiving I am thankful five my Jesus.

I hope that your Thanksgiving is wonderful and that you feel blessed. But as you are stuffing your face and loosening your belt, just know...I am thankful five.

Then sings my soul

I like to cook. I don't mean, I just don't mind fixing hamburger helper on occasion. I mean I love to cook. I don't know what it is exactly or why it is such a passion, but if I could drop everything right now, I would go cook. I love reading recipes, learning new techniques and finding out why things go together like they do. My favorite part of cooking is improv. I love taking a recipe and doing something new or unexpected. I have several recipes that I love, but I never make them the same way twice. How boring would that be?

Even more than cooking, I have a passion for ministry. Well, that is...I did. Following my untimely demise as a minister, I lost that passion. For months I couldn't even hear God, let alone minister to anyone. Then I rode a roller coaster of faith and apostasy for several more months. It has only been the last 3 or 4 months that I have been really spiritually healthy and feel that God is reissuing the call of ministry on my life.

Eight weeks ago I began a spiritual gifts class at my church. I felt like I should because I wasn't sure what God wanted from me now that I was not in His perfect will for my life. To my amazement my gifting hadn't changed. I identified my predominant spiritual gift as teaching, with prophesy and exhortation subordinate. As the weeks have progressed I have found that everything we talk about brings me back to ministry. For the last two or three weeks now I have been consumed with the idea of wanting to have a ministry. Someone to teach and engage, someone to disciple in the faith.

I am excited through all of this, because I know that God doesn't place a calling without a mission. I am also excited because I am still in His plan and that feels great. It won't be tomorrow and it probably won't be this month, but I know that when His timing is right I will have a ministry again; and that is soon enough for me.

Be real

I notice a few things as I look at people's Facebook pages; to look cool in a photo you need to "throw the deuces" (hold up two fingers), and that some people are drama queens. With a little self reflection I think I may be a drama queen. Not that I necessarily induce the drama myself, but I sure seem to attract it well. I have joked for many years that people are either Chris people or they're not. It seems that people either like me and tolerate my idiosyncrasies or I rub them the wrong way and they have to bite their tongue to even be nice. I am a polarizing person and I am fine with that. I don't need to have everyone like me, nor should they. I mean, lets face it; when it comes to personalities I am not easy to palette.
One thing really bothers me though is the fake or impostor. I have people in my life, some friends and some family, that don't like me but want me to believe they do. I don't understand this at all. If you talk to me for more than five minutes you will know that I appreciate being cordial and genteel conduct. If someone were to outright say to me, "You and I don't mesh well."; I would most likely concur or want to investigate, but eventually let sleeping dogs lie. Honesty without passion isn't offensive. But instead there are people that are pleasant to my face and speak poorly of me when I am not around.
Matthew 5:37 says, "But let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No.’ For whatever is more than these is from the evil one." I know that Jesus was speaking of making oaths, but I don't think this concept is out of line with the rest of Scripture. Just be real! Be real with me, be real with yourself. I am giving everyone the freedom to open up to me. Tell me if we don't jive and watch how I handle it, I think you will be pleasantly surprised. But for the sake of Christ who spoke these words, be real.
As for my dramatic disposition, I can only affect myself. So, I will not produce the same reaction that I once did and I will make each opportunity subject to Christ. It would be super if the drama could take a vacation though.

Word up!

Why did we ever stop talking the way we did in the 80's? When something was exceptional with an element of enthusiasm it was RAD. If something was undesirable or failed to meet a minimal expectation we said GAG ME WITH A SPOON. And if we whole heartedly agreed with an expressed view point we said WORD UP. Add in leg warmers and neon colored t-shirts and that is a decade of which to be proud.

I am a part of a denomination that believes in the power of words and the idea of speaking life into someone. This idea isn't new, nor is it without spiritual context. Deuteronomy 30:14 "No, the word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so you may obey it." Moses speaks to the people of Israel about choosing between life and death, blessing and cursing. The words we speak are powerful and have an affect on us and those around us. Matthew 12:36 Jesus says "But I tell you that men will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken." Does that sound like words are meaningless? Quite the contrary, they are the lifeblood of the spiritual world. With one word there was light...and the word was with God and the word was God.

Someone you know needs you to speak life into them today. Encouragement isn't only for the hard times and I kind word isn't only spoken in mourning. It might be telling someone that you are proud of them for overcoming their past. You may need to tell someone of the gifts that God has placed in their life. Perhaps you need to prophesy over someone and speak into their life what they cannot yet see. Christ said we would do greater things than he did and his words performed miracles. Let us live like God intended and speak words that make the devil shudder.

Hemp

Some of the strongest natural fibers in the world are made of hemp. It was required in the Jamestown colony that everyone grow hemp. It was one of the crops that made the States a successful nation. Until marijuana was demonized, it was what our rope was made out of. Today's rope is largely synthetic and in some cases stronger, but there is nothing like a natural fiber rope to make you realize what you are holding.

I feel like I am at the end of my rope. I don't like feeling out of control and I especially don't like feeling at the mercy of my environment. It used to be that when I got to the end of my rope I would just grab onto someone else's rope. But I am not making plan B's any longer. So here I dangle, staring at the knot that finishes the end of my rope. Afraid to look down, I don't know what happens if I eventually lose my grip. Perhaps someone is waiting to catch me...perhaps not.

Never voting again

By in large I use subject lines as attention getters or shock value, but this one is different. Unless something changes, I will never vote again. I am sure that there are some that are incensed by this and will call me unpatriotic or un-American, but before you do understand my reasoning. I have been considering this for weeks and maybe even understood the idea for longer but didn’t want to believe it.

To understand my logic you need to see this from several different view points. The first is the idea of control. People with control don’t surrender power out of the goodness of their heart. Most times control ends in a hostile restructuring that leaves people divided. When the founders of this country were working on creating a more perfect union they had an opportunity to seize control. Why didn’t they? I suggest they did and we just can’t see it through our “freedom”. Power and control are about two things, money and exercising your will. Had the founders instituted a totalitarian regime or monarchy they knew it eventually would be overthrown. But, if they gave the people what they wanted and made it seem as if they owned the country then there would be nothing to overthrow.

Republicans vs. Democrats is the basis of our bicameral legislature. One against the other brings to mind the idea of opposites and enemies. You are either for or against in this world of politics. But isn’t reality and is the façade of our government. Abortion, taxes and war are all hot button issues that you will base your vote on this year. Usually long before the election, the candidates will be talking about what you want to hear from them. All of these issues have been brought to your attention so you could choose what you care about and how you want the government to act. If I was to ask you what color I should paint a room, but only allowed you to choose between dark green or light green, what has really been asked? I wanted your opinion and even gave you the freedom to choose. You gave your answer and I didn’t just force my opinion on you, so you have experienced liberty. But what about the other colors? Perhaps you really like blue or red, but I didn’t allow you to see those in making your decision. Now here is the trick, the question was never about the color. I just didn’t want you to tell me to leave the room or rearrange the furniture. I am still in the room and it still functions the same way as I wanted it too, but it has a new coat of freedom on the walls.

We have been lulled into a freedom coma and can’t wake up. Here is the truth, you are not free. You are a pawn of an establishment that was created to enslave the masses in a delusion that looks like liberty. This economy and the government that works to support it, was made to ensure that power and control would remain in the hands of those who never wanted to lose it. There is no one you can vote for that will change the system. Until the American public realizes that they are not free and want something different this cycle will continue. Revolution needs to begin with the people, but that can’t happen until they suffer. If a real revolution ever happens I will be there, but until that day I will not participate in this illusion.

Anglicized beauty

This world is full of the plain, boring and mundane. You see the same things day after day and they wear on your psyche. That billboard on your way to work, the color of your house and your wardrobe all scream monotonous. That is why I don't understand why people don't take the time to beautify their world. Adding a little bit of flavour or colour to your day is one way to keep your sanity.

One of the things I love is words. Words are beautiful and convey our heart. I have favourite words, ones that I think are cool or sound good. I love the word "obfuscate". It is even better used in the present tense, "obfuscation". I also love the word "vehicular". It just sounds good. I love learning new words and finding ways to use them in context.

I also think that the anglicized English words are beautiful. Words like "colour" and "practise" are the UK equivalent of spelling and are referred to as anglicized. I think a sentence like "I flew on the grey aluminium aeroplane" is pretty wonderful. I know it may seem silly, but I wish I could use words like this without being corrected. But I am sure someone would tell me that "grey" isn't spelled with an E and that "aeroplane" doesn't have an O.

I encourage you to find a way to beautify your world today. If you do and it brings you a little happiness, let me know what you did. I would love to know.

Mattress on the floor

Since I walked away from my ministry, family and life I have suffered. I have felt lonliness like I never knew. I have lost all hope and not knew how I would make it one more day. I have gone without in so many ways. Even though I am doing better today and have several blessings in my life, I am still not whole.

My job is a true God send and I am blessed to have it, but it isn't my calling. I sit at a desk almost all day and rarely interact with anyone. God made me to minister to hurting people and until I do, something is missing. I do have a great church and they are working on restoring me into some ministry of sorts. But as for now I am disconnected and away from my purpose. The love of my life and my children live about twenty minutes from me. I get to see them four or five times a week. We usually spend the whole weekend together. I get to cook for them and share in fun and family time. But when I wake up in the morning, I am alone.

Six inches above the floor is the view I have when I wake up. When you just have enough money to get by, you make certain sacrifices. A box spring and bed frame are luxuries in a world of generic toaster pastries. It is a reminder everyday of my decision and consequence. But there is hope from the mattress on the floor; it can't get any lower. From there I can only rise and reassemble the pieces of my life again. Some day I will have a box spring and a bed frame and I will rest above my world, but until that day...I press on.

Killing myself

The thought of killing oneself is a sign of mental illness. We are all made with a self preservation instinct that gives us the fight inside to press on one more day. When that innate sense is gone and has been replaced with suicidal thoughts there is something wrong. This sickness is involuntary and needs to be treated, otherwise it will end disastrously.

And yet, we are called as Christians to die to Christ daily. Is this insanity? Yes! This is the legal definition of insanity: n. mental illness of such a severe nature that a person cannot distinguish fantasy from reality, cannot conduct her/his affairs due to psychosis, or is subject to uncontrollable impulsive behavior. I can't think of a better definition for the Christian life. Let me interpret what I see in this definition that makes me feel this way.

Mental illness is when there is something wrong with our brain and the way it thinks, however this is a comparative standard. If the world's secular view on life and self are the standard, then we as Christians are mentally ill. Our brains should be working and thinking differently that the rest of the world. That mental illness is so severe that we cannot distinguish between fantasy and reality. When we lose that grasp on reality we have a peace that passes all understanding.

The hallmark of someone who has died to Christ is that they cannot conduct their affairs due to their faith. In fact we have given complete control over to God. The point of surrender is both the death and birth of the new life. And lastly, we are subject to uncontrollable impulsive behavior. When led by the Holy Spirit we are no longer in control. He prepares the way, opens the doors and equips the journey. Impulsive is the view from the vantage of the one out of control. To us and the world, the prompting of the Holy Spirit may seem impulsive, but it isn't even close to being that way. "For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." Eph 2:10 That hardly sounds impulsive, but I am sure it looks that way.

Today I am trying to kill myself. I am going to kill the critical spirit within me. I might not get it the first time, but I am just sick enough to keep trying.


( I do not take mental illness lightly, nor do I think suicide is funny. I have both struggled on my own and walked the road with others as well.)

Riding a bike

I haven't posted on here in a long time. Truth be told, I stopped writing because it was causing me to reflect on a sin in my life and I didn't like that; so I stopped. But I feel like writing again and thought I should just jump in.

I am so excited. If you follow me with any interest on Facebook you probably know I am going to college. Well, to be more accurate, I am about to start college. It makes no difference to me how it's phrased, because it is happening. I have all my books, school supplies and even bought a backpack. I know I am a nerd, but I don't care. I haven't ever gone to a "real" college and had real assignments. I am nervous, but so very excited.

I currently have 205 friends on Facebook and I would expect that number to go down. I have placed 7 people on my blocked list. These are people that for one reason or another can no longer even find me on FB. I have realized that there are people that don't want the best for me, nor are they good for me. I will identify these people and systematically remove them from my life. I know that sounds extreme, but I am not strong enough to handle everyone's crap.

I am so excited for Christmas. I will not be involved with kettles is any way or fashion! I will be able to enjoy the season with my family. This is my joy! Ok, that's it for now. Hopefully I will get back to blogging on a regular basis.

The robe

The worship at my church has got me thinking about how I have failed to approach the throne with any amount of reverence or modesty. I have been contemplating the worship that I have been a part of for the last 10-12 years. There have been a handful of times where the Holy Spirit was allowed to be glorified, but by in large the worship has been contemptuous and arrogant. Elements that look like worship, but have come from an orderly response to given parameters. Real worship cannot be faked or replicated, it is genuine or it is nothing. Sure it might look like worship; there is singing, scripture and a sermon, but that is where the similarities end. Worship is not an act that we “do”, it is the overwhelming response to our God and it couldn’t be stopped if we tried.

This past Sunday while praying and singing I was surprised that Heaven didn’t open up into our sanctuary and the glory of God become visible and tangible. I was actually surprised it didn’t happen. Not as if it was just really emotional or that I was just in the moment, but the fact that I didn’t see what Isaiah and John saw astounded me. While the people sang and the Spirit testified in our hearts and minds, Heaven pressed against us in a joyful unison.

Prayers rising in the sanctuary that fill the air like perfume, until the glory of God has saturated you. Brothers and sisters in Christ who will lean forward and put their hands on you and cry when you cry. Scripture treated like a love letter from our God. A sermon exploring the Word, preached unabashed, spoken to the heart of every believer. Blessings presented like expensive gifts, not just packages left on the doorstep of your heart.

All I can say is, if you didn’t have this experience Sunday and if you don’t think it will happen this Sunday, go somewhere it will. You wouldn’t return to a theater that didn’t play movies, why go to a church that doesn’t worship? May God bless you richly this Sunday as you seek Him.

Carbon

Promises left sitting out have gotten stale. Not fresh any longer, their taste only a memory of something savory. Moistened again by saline and sampled time and time again has left a sour taste. Slice by slice, each promise is ruined and yet the loaf remains. The twist tie lying in vain; the bag a wind sock. A cold shoulder is turned and the problem is allowed to mold.

Fire deep inside, refracted and cut, promise stirs under velvet. Hinged against satin and covered in love, old becomes new becomes old. Disposable months and sacrificed what was never owned. Renewed what has never been and burned down what will never be. Perpendicular jointed and palpitating, giving utterance to the promise. Never stale again the twist tie goes on the finger.

Blogging the silence

What can you say? Sometimes words fail me and I am left speechless. In times when I am god smacked and without a voice I need to just shut up, lest my inane rambling cause me ruin. So here are my non-words, hear my heart.

That's all I have to say.

Light year

Most people, probably just Americans, think a light year is a measurement of time. It is actually a measurement of distance. Light in a vacuum moves a constant speed, so the distance it would travel in one year is a light year. To get to our nearest other star would take you 24 years if you could travel at the speed of light. I won't even get into all the problems with that statement, but that is it in a nut shell.

Somethings work better fast and somethings work better slow. For instance, have you ever tried to make your signature at half your normal speed? It looks ridiculous. You over think every motion and try to hard. But on the other hand, there are some things that have to be taken slowly. Intricate design is routed in exact movement. The lines on a dollar bill take many painful hours to perfect. Everything in life has it's inherent length of actualization.

I am impatient in life. I know what I want or where I am going and I want to get there. I know this has its problems, but I usually would rather take on the problems and get to gettin. This idea doesn't work well with people. When someone is on the fence or trying to make a decision you can't rush them. If you do, you run the risk of pushing them into safety and prevents them from properly examining risk. I am waiting on people right now. Personal and business, and both of which I want to just say "come on". But I know that this isn't beneficial for me or them. So, patience...I don't like it but I guess I have to live with it.

Perspective

I have been thinking recently of my narrow view of life. I can only see my world one second at a time. I can recall the past but not see it. I can forecast the future, but not know for sure of its destination. This moment that I am in is 49.5% the past and 49.5% the future and I have but 1% to live in and understand. I have been thinking of my life as a train of stacked dominoes of which I only see one at a time. All I see is a domino fall but not from whence it came nor where it travels. This view can lead to a conclusion that the only thing that matters is the domino that is in view. Isolated and focused, it is my priority. However, should I see the train in it's entirety I would know so much more about the domino that is falling. I would see the hundred before it that fell to get me to this place and the hundred left to fall. All I can do is have faith in the one who has stacked the dominoes and not do anything that would alter their course. Remembering the domino that fell and praying for the one to come, I wait.

Sunday's with Jesus

Since walking out of my corps over six months ago I have attended several different churches. I have got to experience some different styles of worship. Some have been great, some...well not so much. I have attended places that I am 100% on board with their theology but the pastor is a nugget, others where the pastor is great but the theology is jacked. It has been interesting to find the balancing act that I need in my life. Trying to find the right fit has been an interesting experience, but fun nonetheless.

I have found a great church that I am quite happy with the balance. I am currently attending Englewood Ministries an AOG church in the area. www.englewoodministries.com I never would have guessed that I would have ended up at another holiness denomination let alone an AOG. But the combination of elements have come together to make a memorable and impacting experience. The pastor is a prophet and brilliant, his messages are timely and challenging. He listens to the spirit in such a way that I have rarely seen. The theology is still based on holiness doctrine, but has a strong focus on grace as well. The worship is engaging and spirit lead. The services are about one thing and one thing only, bringing praise before the throne. The music is rehearsed and evidently a priority in the planning of the service. The prayer is organic and a function of hearts in tune with their savior. Voices are lifted in unison without definition, but speaking in spirit and truth.

I haven't gotten into Sunday School yet, but plan to this Sunday. I haven't really connected with any of the congregation yet, but I have no reason to think that I won't be accepted and brought into the fold. I am so excited because June 6th is the church picnic following the service. I just have to decide what it is that I will bring to the table. Thank you to everyone that has prayed for my search in finding a church home.

High definitions

I will never forget the day I got my first HDTV. It was a magical experience to see programs in a clarity that I never knew before. The Sunday following getting the TV I watched the afternoon football game and sat in awe. I could see the blades of grass move in the breeze. The threads on jerseys and corn rows in hair were visible in such a way that I now owed a better seat that being at the game. I would sit and watch nature shows in HD just because they were in HD. There is a show called Sunrise Earth that plays no music or has any narration, all they do is show the sunrise in different areas of the Earth. I would watch this show just because of the sheer beauty of what I was seeing.

I have been thinking about high definition recently and the need for it in our everyday life. I believe we have lost the idea of some words and I am interested in knowing the real definition. The first one that comes to mind is "friend." On Facebook I have hundreds of friends, but I believe that this watering down of the word is the problem. Is a friend just someone you know? Is a friend someone who doesn't wish ill will toward you or is it something more? Our idea of friend is so loose that we needed to give it an adjective to better describe the friend. A work friend or school friend or best friend. I believe that we have diluted this idea of friend because we didn't want to hurt someone's feelings and have them think they weren't our friend. But here is the reality, if you only know someone and have no meaningful impact or resonance in their life, you aren't their friend. You are a peer, colleague, associate, contemporary or acquaintance, but not a friend. I myself am looking for friends right now. People that want to know the real me and have me get to know the real them. People that want to be effected and effect in return. If you are looking for this too, hit me up.

The next word in need of high defining is "hate." There was a time where this was a bad word. When people didn't use this word lightly. But now we hate everything, so much so that we hate inanimate objects. We hate school, food, traffic and slow internet. This word once reserved for the most vile of people and offenders, now has become a calling card of anything unpleasant. The Bible says if we say "you fool" that we have crossed the line. How much more should the word hate be taken seriously? I think that this trampling of definition has served Satan well. We have people that believe that because they are not angry that their actions aren't hate. Angry and hate are separate emotions and don't need to go together. If your actions don't look like Christ, if you desire harm or vengeance and if want separation from a person, you hate them. All the while you are cool and collected. Unlike friends, I have enough of these people right now. I am no longer taking applications to be hated.

Luxury

"A luxury once tasted becomes a necessity." -Oscar Wilde

I love the finer things in life. If it is extravagant or luxurious I am all over it. I am not interested in names or labels, I like quality. Why buy something cheaply when you can buy superior quality for four times as much? For instance, I have a chef's knife that I got for my birthday. It is made in Japan and alone cost $120. It is Damascus steel and is sharpened by hand by a master craftsmen. The town that the knife was made in is where the samurai sword was invented. My bible is made from highland goatskin and is produced by a company in Scotland. It cost $190 for this heirloom quality book that cannot be purchased in an American bookstore. My journal is the same that Hemingway and Picasso used to jot down their notes. The pen I use to write in my journal and bible is archival quality and acid free. My words will out last the paper itself.

Out of all of the luxurious things in my life the one that I held in least regard became my most treasured. My family is the luxury that has become my necessity. Graham Kendrick wrote "All I once held dear, built my life upon, All this world reveres and wars to own; All I once thought gain I have counted loss, Spent and worthless now compared to this." His words were penned to reflect his heart felt feeling toward His savior and I would also acknowledge this feeling toward God as well, but it is amazing how these words also speak to me about my family. I thought for so long that family was the thing that happened around you while you were trying to live the life you really wanted. It has taken a very painful journey to realize that family is the life I really wanted and everything else is inconsequential. I would give away my chef's knife for an hour with my kids. I would trade my bible in for a pew bible for a date with my wife. None of these mean anything without the ones I love to enjoy them with.

I will probably always love those things in life that are the best, but never again will they mean more to me or have more of my attention than my family. Whether my wife and children are by my side or a phone call away, they are my only priority and that will never change.