I hope when my faith and politics collide, my faith always wins...

This is the third time I've had the opportunity to vote for president in my life.  It is also the first time that I have chosen to not do so.  I've had a couple of conversations already where that position has been scorned and even mocked a little, and I completely respect that opinion.  In our culture, not voting is seen as an affront to the freedoms in which we're taught to cherish, that we were taught to respect because of the sacrifices made to obtain them.  To those people, I respect that point of view with all of my heart.  And it's because I take voting so seriously that I did not vote for a president in this election.

I did not find confidence in either man who were the major candidates for the office.  I have felt that way since the very beginning of the general campaign.  Where people have seen blind optimism, I've seen the same words recycled from similar thinking men in similar situations, only in different times and a different culture.  Where people have cheered on a candidate who has been portrayed as a hero and a patriot, I've seen barely a small deviation from the mean of politics as usual in what has admittedly still been a very short life.

I think that we tend to forget that history is cyclical and we have very short attention spans.  We forget that this isn't the worst era in history.  We forget the thoughts we used to have that made us happy, because we're so convinced that the future is doomed.  Every political party has started wars.  Every party has ended wars.  Every party has claimed to have God on their side.  Every party has believed that their cause was just.  In the end, we all seem to be like Peter, stuck on that water, and wondering how we'll get to our Savior.

As a Christian, my heart has broken for those of you who see me through the lens of those who put the flag and their faith together to justify their words to you.  I've been grieved throughout this election to see how many followers of Christ have groaned and mourned what this nation would be like if our leadership changed dramatically.  I've been afraid of the fanfare that people have had for change, and how one man can seemingly be the answer to so many problems that have so many complicated answers.  Those are the things that have stirred my heart.  Not my desire for this leader or that leader.  But that those that put their faith in Jesus would do so even when the world shifts and changes.  The world changed for Peter (he's the easy example here, sorry).  Suddenly, he could walk on water.  But once he took his eyes off of Christ, he was just like any other man, flailing and drowning without hope.

I did not vote for a president, because I was not drawn to do so.  I think even more than before, we have the opportunity to love a little better, give a little more and walk a little longer with friends or even strangers.  The man at the top doesn't matter nearly as much as what we do for those on the very bottom. That's where the church should be.  Not trying to create political change, but showing people real love.  You can legislate all the rules you want, you can elect the most like-minded person you can, but nothing will reach the people that are hurting than with real, passionate love.  That's my hopeful prayer for all of us.

I feel squeamish on this soapbox.  I think I better step off of it.

California, here we come?

Today at work, we were informed that the week of Christmas, the whole company will be shut down for half the week, and hourly folks (like myself) will only be paid for 20 hours unless they can cover the rest of the week with vacation pay. Luckily, I think I’m ok in that regard. But it’s opening up a broader internal dialogue in my mind about the future of my place in my work environment. We were told not to worry, but when looking at it objectively… they always have to tell you to not worry until it’s time to worry.

I’m looking to God to give me peace in this. These are the times when the collision of my fears vs. my faith are felt the most. But on the other hand, this might give me a chance to go to California for Christmas! As it had stood, I wasn’t going to be able to go. But now, options are re-opening. Perhaps, this is a blessing in disguise.

But as an addendum to my news from last night, my dad also found my ORIGINAL Social Security card! That’s another document to prove my existence. I have to remember to send in my request to the California DMV to get my driving record sent to me, and then it’s license time! Ok, I say that as a “maybe”, because I’ve already been rejected twice for getting a license in this blessed state. Maybe the third time is the charm I need.

Look at all the optimism I’m showing. Be proud of this.

Whew!

I just got a message from my dad saying that he has my birth certificate in hand.  This is a relief of tremendous proportions.  For the longest time (2 weeks), I've had no documentation to prove that I exist since most of  my important documents were taken with my wallet that was stolen.  With news of this birth certificate, I can now go about the business of getting my identity back.

Bank of America forgot to send me a new check card so I'm struggling with how to get money without using a credit card that requires ID for purchases.  As you can see, this is a long and winding road.  For those of you who have seen my stress close-up, you can probably know that I've had enough stress for a while.

I know yesterday I talked about not caring as much about sports, but all day I've had an inkling to watch the Lakers' first game tonight.  I think I'll have my laptop, a book, and some NBA basketball to entertain me tonight.

The book of love has music in it... in fact that's where music comes from...

Highlights from the past several days...

Planned a bachelor party this past week that appears to have been a success.  I stressed quite a bit about having a boring and unmemorable event, but the night ended up being a great time.  The guys all went bowling, then played some Rock Band 2 in a rented out theater in Tacoma, and back to my friend Dan's house where we played some good old-fashioned No-Limit Texas Hold 'Em.  I was competitive throughout but fatigue took over and I gave up my chips.  I'm all about self-sacrifice.  We gave the money to Ben (the groom) so I hope him and his new wife (Rebekah) enjoy the tidy sum we got for them.

Saturday was the ceremony and I was honored to be one of two best men for the occasion.  I'll be honest, I was worried about the speech because with Ben, it's hard to really prepare because our whole friendship has been based on impromptu jokes and childish laughs at each other's expense.  But I think I did ok.  It was great to see those two tie the knot and get started on this crazy adventure together.  The whole process definitely gave me pause as to what that will look like for me.  It's hard to know (especially in those moments) how to give to God the future when I've felt like it was so uncertain.  That might be why I dislike weddings more and more, no matter how happy I am for the couple.  I don't feel like having that inner fight with my own selfishness.

The NBA season is coming up and I find myself caring very little about the first game this week.  It might be because I'm getting older or just more diverse in my interests, but I find I care about sports less and less.  Maybe it's the stress over the past week or two.  I'm not sure, but to see that passion fade is sad, but also a little exciting.  Perhaps there's a passion to take it's place around the corner.

The crew compartment's breaking up...

I have been interested in the story of the Columbia shuttle disaster lately.  Honestly, I hadn't given it much thought, but I heard a song about this tragedy for the first time that was so surreal and beautiful, that it gave a human element to the story that I never felt even when it happened.


The song is called "Commander Thinks Aloud" by The Long Winters, and below I have added a video that is actually just the lead singer doing the song on the piano (apologies for just showing his back).  But the point I'm trying to make is that when I think of the power of music, I think of songs like this.  Songs that help transcend the common emotions and reactions of life into something that nearly seems tangible.


Below the video are the lyrics to the song.  I have found it compelling to find little pieces of the song each time I hear it that add more to the narrative woven around the lyrics.  


Ok, so nerd time is over now.  Continue.






"Commander Thinks Aloud" by The Long Winters

Boys and girls in cars
Dogs and birds on lawns
From here I can touch the sun
Yeah yeah

Put your jackets on
I feel we're being born
The Tropic of Capricorn is below
Yeah yeah yeah yeah

We stall above the pole
Still your face is young
As we feel our weight return
Yeah yeah

A trail of shooting stars
The horses call of storm
Because the air contains the charge
Yeah yeah yeah yeah

The radio is on
And Houston knows the score
Can you feel it?
We're almost home
Yeah yeah yeah yeah

The crew compartment's breaking up
The crew compartment's breaking up
The crew compartment's breaking up
The crew compartment's breaking up
The crew compartment's breaking up
The crew compartment's breaking up
The crew compartment's breaking up

This is all I wanted to bring home... to you.

I'm voting for Sarah Palin... and only Sarah Palin.

Is it possible to vote to vote for just the vice president and that's it?  Can I skip John McCain altogether?

If so, I'm voting for Sarah Palin... for Vice-President.  That seems to be the best way to rectify this situation.  I can't decide between voting for the cultish movement that is Barrack Obama or the contradictory conservatism that is John McCain.

I tried flipping a coin, but it landed on it's side.  I played rock-paper-scissors against myself, but because my motor skills lack, I kept ending in ties.  Even the magic 8 ball kept saying "I'm as confused as you."  There seemed to be no way out of this maelstrom.  But then I saw her... Sarah... wait, can I call you Sarah?  No matter.  Sarah Palin.  The first politician who drew me in enough to make me watch a whole speech in quite a while.

Don't get me wrong, Obama is a fabulous speaker.  He is the Democrat Reagan they've been looking for since, well... Reagan, and I've been moved by his rhetoric.  But as my friend Dan once told me (ok, tonight), Obama sounds like he's running for middle-school president more than real life adult US President.  Don't get offended, I'm not worth getting upset over.  But it's sort of true in my eyes.

"Mr. Obama, if you become president, what can we expect to find in terms of improvements in the lunch menu and/or assorted food item machines around the campus?"

"That is the question that a hard-working American needs answering.  I hear that you want change!  How do Hot Pockets sound?  (applause)  Do you like pepperoni?  (applause)  Ham and cheese? (applause)  Lean Pockets? (dead silence)... Meatball?  (thunderous applause)"

But that is to say that I can't really deal well with McCain either.  The man sounds like he's never stepped into a bank.  You can almost see him going over an Obama speech and saying to his aids, "Ok, we'll just say the opposite of this, we'll say this as well, but make it sound like he hates this... Oh, I like energy stuff too!"  Again, don't get angry.  I'm just one guy who grew up in the mean suburban streets of Redlands, CA.  McCain is solid on foreign policy, no doubt.  Anyone who challenges him is subject to watching the hours of home video footage he has of his capture back in Vietnam.  But still... I worry that the man will keel over in office.  We haven't had that since medicine consisted of leeches, routine amputations and the use of whiskey as a anesthesia.

Where was I?

Oh yes.

Sarah Palin!

This woman has the most intriguing past of any candidate I've encountered in a while.  I rarely hear a story I care about because they usually start and end the same.  Born into privilege, raised in privilege, elected President.  Rinse.  Repeat.  This woman was mayor a town less than 10,000 people THREE YEARS AGO?  Are you kidding me?  I love it!  A lifetime member of the NRA?  Sign me up!  Husband is a member of a huge steel union?  YES!  I'm eating all of this up?  Former finalist for Miss Alaska?  Where were you on that, Hilary?  Great stuff.

Politics aside, how is that not a great story?  Soccer mom turned mayor turned governor turned possible vice-president.

I know what you're saying.  "Britton... she has no experience in foreign policy.  She has no experience in dealing with people who don't fish for salmon.  She has no experience looking into Barrack Obama's eyes and getting lost in them.  She has no experience governing a population with working electricity."

I hear all of that.  And you might be right.  She might not even agree with me in politics.

But golly gee, for the first time, I'm actually intrigued about this election.

Thank you, Sarah.  From all of us here at the blog to you... thank you.

OLYMPIC FEVER! CATCH IT!

I'll throw this out there and I won't even cringe as I do it.  I dig gymnastics.  I dig swimming.  Team handball might be one of the best sports ever to watch.  The Olympics are so wonderful.  I have quite a few friends who have played the "too cool" card when it comes to watching the Games, but I love it all.   Even if it means watching the same bloody lame commercials 10 times in a night but not yet once seeing my former role model Shannon Miller's Claritin commercial that everyone is raving... never mind.  I'm fine.

Let's run down my love in ranked form, from 5 to 1.

5.  Niche announcers - Seriously, that guy who is RAVING about how Mariel Zagunis is the best in the world at finding openings to exploit after setting up her opponent with a left-right-left parry tactic... what does he do the other four years?  Have you ever seen fencing on TV outside of the Olympics?  The best part is the announcers sound so polished, like there is a pro fencing league they do games for all the time.  Awesome.  The best are the announcers who used to be in the sport they're calling, and every event somehow links to their gutsy performance in the '76 Montreal Games.  And the best part is that it was always just a little tougher back then in Montreal.  The heck with that.  I've BEEN to Montreal.  If it was harder, it was because everyone was trying to leave.  Fight me, Montreal... I'm daring you.

Sorry...

4.  Fluff pieces - I guarantee you that you've never heard as much soft piano on your television as you do when you sit down for a three hour session watching the Games.  If the competition isn't enough, NBC is right there to show you just how human these super-humans are.  It wouldn't be so bad, if they didn't use the glaucoma lighting around the edges of the athletes during the interview.  Nothing is so hateful to NBC as a successful athlete without a shattered, broken past.  If they create a sport called "Eastern European Bashing While Watching the Olympics", I'll give the networks the broken past they've dreamed about.  Even if none of what I tell them is true.

3.  Gymnastics - Let's put our cards out on the table.  In 1996, I was a HUGE Magnificent 7 fan.  As Shannon, Amy and the Dominiques fought and clawed and slapped their way to Olympic gold, it was Kerry Strug who right in front of me in the Georgia Dome, had one of the gutsiest performances I've ever seen on the world stage.  She landed off the vault on one freaking foot!  Hideous voice aside, that's unbelievable.  And it hooked me.  As we speak, I'm watching the Chinese take another shot at democracy by brushing aside the Americans in the men's team finals.  But know this China, we'll be back... shorter, buffer and more flexible than ever (butt slap).

2.  The Opening Ceremony - Every four years, it really is a game of "Can you top this?"  This year was a great example.  I'm pretty sure the head of the London Olympic Committee took one look at the Chinese opening ceremony and curled into the fetal position.  It was at this moment that he realized that the British.. are simply not  a visually creative people.  But I digress.  The procession of athletes is great, especially when most of Zimbabwe's team is white.  Go figure.

1a.  Niche sports - Where else are you going to see a sport called "trampoline"?  What about "flatwater canoeing", "synchronized diving" and "Womens pistols"?  It's just awesome to see such off the radar sport taking place that people all over the world have committed years of their life to perfecting (how two guys wake up and one day say they want to learn to dive in complete synchronicity is beyond my realm of understanding).  How about this for Olympic trivia?  Did you know that "tug of war" was a sports for YEARS in the Olympics?  How about roller hockey making an attempt to be a sport in 1992 or bowling in 1998?  My personal favorite was the event "surf livesaving".  Baywatch was simply 100 years behind the times.  As if it wasn't already.

1.  National pride - I don't care who you are or how cynical you are of your government or country as a whole, it is hard, nay impossible to watch the Olympics for long and not start to feel a little bit of that good old-fashioned turn-of-the-century nationalism start to well up in you.  I've been fully behind guys like Michael Phelps and I'm learning names that I'm cheering for out loud as if I've been going to their meets for years (go Jonathan Horton, go!).  The Olympic Games do that to you.  Because this is such an unbiased - usually- place to see people from around the world compete, it takes an air all of it's own.  I love watching it with friends because nationalism breeds nationalism (see War I, World) and you start blabbering about kids in their early 20's doing the most amazing thing you've ever seen.  It's my most favorite part of the Games. At some point, someone from my country is going to make my proud to be an American.  And make me hate the Russians just a little more.  Kidding!  (Not really, get out of Georgia).

So there it is.  Whoomp, there it is for that matter.  If you've been shrugging off the Games (Dan Miller, et al.), check them out.  You're sure to get sucked in.  Unless it's wrestling.  For the life of me, I still can't figure that crap out.  You've been great.

To Him Who Overcomes...

To him who overcomes, I will give the right to eat from the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God.

To him who overcomes, he will not be hurt at all by the second death.

To him who overcomes, I will give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.

To him who overcomes and does my will to the end, I will give authority over the nations.

To him who overcomes, he will be dressed in white and not have his name blotted from the book of life.

To him who overcomes, I will give the right to see with me on my throne, just as I overcame and sat down with my Father on his throne.

To him who overcomes, I will write on him the name of my God and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem.

I will also write on him my new name.

He who has an ear, let him hear.

"I'm not sure why it always goes downhill..."

My brother and (most of the times) his wife seem to always come around in periods of really hard times.  It's actually comical.  He's been there for every important death in the past five years I've grieved through.  He's visited during some of my worst moments of pain from different reasons in life.  It's kind of sad, but seeing my brother reminds me of the sorrowful times I've experienced since I started my twenties.  

In the past month or so since I've really actively blogged, you can say I've been dealing with some things.  I've got an issue where nearly everyday my throat closes up and I can barely breathe.  That has understandably created some anxiety for me, which seems to make it worse.  Multiple doctors visits later, I still have no idea what's wrong (and people wonder why I never go to the doctor), and the stress from it has made it almost impossible for me to sleep without medication of some kind.  It's a pretty uneasy environment to be living in right now.

I can also say that I've been experiencing some tangible sorrow in my life lately as well.  I've been trying very hard to give my lack of faith and my trepidation to God, but I still have a lot of work to do.  My heart still beats strongly when fear is involved and self-doubt... but I'm trying to fight it instead of dwell in it.  As I've read many times the past few days in Hebrews 12, we are not put through suffering as a punitive punishment, but to teach and test us to use our faith instead of our doubts to move forward.  

I'm definitely not quite there.  But I hope the decisions I make in the future will be based more on what I believe and not on what I am afraid of not seeing first.  

I've spent a lot of alone time lately.  I don't do well when it all comes at once and for a long stretch.  I have to think I'm being put in this spot to move me along on some issues in my heart, but I'm still looking for some resolution.  I can't help but think of Paul when he told the passengers on that ship that not one of them would be harmed when they wrecked... that God told him they would be spared even in disaster.  And not one of them perished.

Breathing...

So I went out of town this weekend with the intention of doing a little soul-searching and getting some good time of meditation and prayer in.  But what I got instead was an attack of not being able to breathe.  And even now.  I feel like I can't breathe.  It's so weird.  I function fine.  I don't really have any actual breathing problems, but my mind believes that I can't breathe and my body reacts like it's the truth.  

It's pretty scary.  I don't really know what to do.  I don't see a light at the end of this tunnel yet.  It's been 3 days...

Oh Burger, Where Art Thou?

When I go to the Ram, I expect a burger large in juicy tastiness and low on crap. Tonight was a special exception for me. Despite the server's glowing endorsement, I could sense that disappointment was in the air. Of course the ingredients should have hinted to me that I was already treading on thin ice. I got a dry burger that was just awful. It was called the Louie Burger and it consisted of the hamburger, gorgonzola crumbles, buffalo wing sauce and leaf spinach. I love buffalo wings, I love blue cheese, I love burgers, what's not to love?

It didn't work.

I've been wrestling with what it means to show Christ in my day-to-day life. I may have mentioned before that I worked pretty much solo for about a year and a half, having little to no interaction with anyone during business hours. Now I am around 40 people a day, and my habits that crept into my life seem to invade the lives of others around me. Me randomly singing to myself is one thing. Tapping on things is another. I love percussion, sue me.

But I've also struggled with deeper issues. I struggle with being judgmental, of jumping to conclusions with people I work with. I get so tempted to forget all of my shortcomings and be focused on who has angered me, who has made me feel bad. I try to fight urges I have to lose focus and it frustrates me when my ADD really kicks in and nothing seems to be possible to achieve. In all of that, I've thought very little of how I can be a Christian, but doing it in a way that my life shows it, instead of doing something dramatic like walking around, blessing people. I suppose it's a conversation with myself and God that I've yet to have and I need to have it. I've been really frustrated at my behavior lately, only because I know I could be treating some people a lot better. I don't know. This wasn't meant to rant, but what do you know? It certainly turned into that.

We had a great time at Restitution tonight. I love what has been created. An organic, fun time with friends, new faces and some good learning. For me as a pretty ill-learned theologian, discovering new ways to study and learn has been a great jump for me. Seeing clues in deeper waters has been so rewarding already. Andy has done a great job, and I couldn't be happier with how much I am learning.

Like good questions never asked...

The title comes from one of my favorite songs of all time, that I was listening to just now. It's called "Blessed to Be a Witness" by Ben Harper.

I had my performance review at work today. I was expecting to have a laundry list of issues presented to me, because I always seem to find a laundry list of issues that I have just on my own... but it was a surprisingly pleasant meeting. It looks like I won't be fired. Whew.

My heart was absolutely broken by John Terry today. I know not many of you follow football, but my beloved Chelsea (God's team) played Manchester United (Satan's team) in the finals of the UEFA Champions League. The score was 1-1 going to penalty kicks, and the team captain- Terry- slipped and fell as kicking what would have been the game winner. I can't even tell you how that made me feel. I'm sitting at work like an idiot, looking for someone to hug. Sadly for me, my nearest workmate Dave isn't a guy who yearns for hugs from other dudes. But I was suffering. Drogba, how quickly we all turned on you in one match.

Last night I had a chance to go visit my good friends Tom and Kelley where Kelley for the sheer heck of it (so cool) decided to make us all basically my dream meal: homemade wings and California Burritos (don't be fooled, they're quite real). Now for a transplant San Diego...an, the California Burrito is a staple of the any local young man's diet, and it's been sadly missed up here in WA (it's 90% of my food snobbery and I really apologize). Well Kelley came to my rescue and made it all homemade. It was one of the best meals I've ever had in my life. I mentioned it last night and everyone laughed like "yeah, ok Britton", but it was true. I'm still full from it. So from my heart, thank you!

I've been working on a blog the last few nights that I'm a little nervous about writing. I've been reading a great deal on recent issues in our country and I felt like I should write it. I was going to post it last night, but I felt like it wasn't ready. So I hope God gives me some courage to post it. And if not, that it was because I wasn't writing with my true heart.

The hidden victim...

One of the few OCD things I do, besides tirelessly keeping my music catalog impeccably organized is to get the gas pump to a whole dollar number when I am not looking to fill the pump. It's a thing I've been doing for years. I know it's toolish, I know it's lame... but it's always been a little game to have when I'm hopelessly dumping large portions of my check to the oil company. Before, when gas was less than three dollars, the game was reasonable.

Now?

Now it's a whole other story. I feel like I grief the loss of any reasonable chance I have to win this game over the huge spike in price. The cents fly by so fast, it's a total crapshoot.

Anyways...

I went to the Tacoma Rainier game tonight with Dan and one of his youth group students. It was a fun night. I made a complete fool of myself by heckling anything on the field that moved, and Dan and Nathan were gracious enough to laugh at most of it. It was a beautiful evening for baseball and I wish I had the budget to go to more games. Now I'm waiting for my sheets to dry before another early morning. Yay.

--Spurs/Lakers... you better hope for Los Angeles to win. Spurs vs. anyone will be a bore and a slow drain to everyone's life.

--Chelsea... Manchester United... two days... can't wait... can't stop using ellipses.

YES...

This comes from http://www.applegeeks.com/.

Quite a comfort...

Listening to Andy yesterday, he pointed out a verse that has stuck with me all day. In fact, I think the symbolism of it and the promise tucked inside brings so much peace, I wanted to share it.

"Your path led through the sea,
your way through the mighty waters,
though your footprints were not seen. "

-Psalm 77:19

I've wondered a lot about my future the last couple of days. Brainstorming about the future at my company, in my personal life, in my home life... etc. I often disregard the guidance I get that I do not actually hear or see, the aches I feel in my heart that I try to ignore. This verse captures it so well. I can never exactly track where God has nudged me but I can't deny that he has. I've been very blessed to be where I am now.

Time Machine

I cannot even believe how excited I was tonight to sit down on my friend Dustin's Wii and play one of my favorite games as a child, "Blades of Steel."

Only the greatest hockey game ever constructed for an electronic format (besides NHL '96 on the Genesis... Ray Bourque, you're still the man). So much of the game is so arbitrary but it reminded me of a simple time, when there wasn't 17 ways to check a player like there is now.

Plus the fights are awesome...

I hope that this too will pass...

The beauty of friendship is empathy. Empathy to laugh especially hard at a shared experience, empathy to feel pride at a friend's accomplishment, and empathy to feel sorrow in a friend's dark hour. I don't think I ever truly realize just how much empathy I develop in a friendship until those sad times come. Two friends of mine were dealt staggering news today, and I have spent most of this evening with them on my mind, even as I was plenty distracted with the goings on of my own life. I never know what to say, I've never been the one that provides the meaningful words in times like these. All I could do tonight was tell them I love them, and then hope they know that my prayers are with them. All I know is somehow, God is going to bless their faithfulness, and bless the desires of their heart. Somehow. I just don't always get God's timing.

I have a list that I made on Tuesday that is staring at me, taunting me. I need to find time. I get time, but then I squander it on selfish endeavors that only please the lesser virtues in my heart. I need more time, but not just time- I need a new set of priorities. My indignation of status quo lasts just enough to be irritated, but not enough to change the rules of the game.

C'mon...Shake, Shake...Shake, Shake... Shake it!

I just created a MySpace music playlist tonight. If you told me that I had to spend an hour wasting it by creating a list of songs for my webpage, I'd do it gladly every time. Check it out.

Today was beautiful here in WA today, and as always, I celebrated it by working indoors. I can't be too bitter, though. I get to go see some baseball tomorrow night with my friend, Dan. Minor league, major league, beer league, it's a wonderful sign of summer when it's nice and warm and baseball is on the schedule. Hopefully we'll get seats next to Ben Cheney (pictured). In no way would that be creepy.

I got to go lift weights and have a Bible study with my pastor this morning. We try to do it every week, but we both get busy. It's so refreshing having that voice in my life. I had no idea how much I was crying for any kind of mentoring until I realized just how important these times with him have been for my walk. God has blessed me by putting men in my life that truly see different areas of my life and my different weaknesses in a very understanding and graceful light. To feel like I can be myself without pretense or hesitation is a gift, indeed.

I have to say, I love the SRT's at my work. I know I get them in trouble when I have to point out their errors, but I always seem to end up chuckling about something when I walk through their area throughout the day. I just thought I'd throw that in there.

It's Hard Giving Bad News...

Truth be told, I started writing this as I was watching the Lakers alternately lift me up and knock me down in beating the Jazz tonight. I have to be up at 5:00 AM tomorrow, but Lord help me if I can do that when the Lakers are in a must-win game 5. I'm ashamed sometimes of how sucked in I get by athletic competition.

Today ended up being pretty stressful at the beginning. Every time like I feel like I find my groove at work, I make some blunder or stumble into an issue that alludes my previous knowledge. It certainly keeps me humble and wanting to learn. I had a few moments today that definitely went beyond what I had done so far, and while that was nice, it certainly opened my eyes to the human aspect of what I do.

I got to head over to the Varsity Grill after work with Emily, Tom and Kelley. It was great to catch up with Emily especially and always fun to hang out with the Family Valdez. They had some scratcher promotion happening at the grill, and I won 3 free hours in their "movie theatre" room (apparently it's a $200 value). So I can't imagine me not getting a Rock Band gathering together in the next few months. Rock Band and wings... not sure I can beat it.

Time for bed, I'll have to work hard to get to sleep tonight. Sheep, willpower, voodoo... hopefully something will work.

Making Plans

So this morning, I mapped out all the tasks and plans I have for this week. It's a pretty impressive list if I get it all done. It also points out to me just how much I let slip through the cracks every day. When did I get to the point where batting .200 in my responsibilities somehow became the accepted norm?

I'm not ashamed to say it: I can't wait for Chelsea vs. Manchester United, the final of the UEFA Champions League. The match is being held in Moscow, Russia. If you ever questioned the popularity of soccer, the Russian government is considering a ticket to the match to be a 72 hour visa as well to expediate supporters in and out of the country. Russia! Amazing. One of the bummers of not being in England anymore is that I get so much soccer information second hand. But a week from now, I'll be sitting there at my TV like I was in West London all over again. Thank you God for creating Didier Drogba. May he find the net yet one more time.

And miles before we sleep...

Today was draining. It's amazing how much more tired you feel when the whole day feels frenetic. I suppose there is truth to stress being much harder on the system than simple adrenaline. Must be the added mental strain. I don't know, I'm not a doctor. I should ask a doctor.

The bright spot was getting to finally check out the new Weepies album while at work. I really enjoyed it, especially "All Good Things" and "Not Dead Yet". It had much more of Deb Talan than Steve Tannen, which was a slight letdown, because I really enjoy when he gets a chance to lead the song. But I won't complain, the Weepies are always a breath of fresh air to me. And if that wasn't good enough, after everyone left work, I got to finally listen to the She & Him album, and got to listen to my love, Zooey Deschanel on my new computer speakers. I love her. I love this album. I love how my overtime wasn't nearly as... overtimey... ugh... with music filling the room.

Lazy Sundays create guarded optimism

One of my favorite things is to find music by complete accident that just moves me one way or another. Today, I got a chance to listen to The Submarines, and immediately fell for this. Yes.

I can't resist. One more song suggestion. Shamelessly, I heard this on Scrubs and it totally reflected my heart right now. War time, baby.

My friend Dan made a pretty sweet video for his nephew in Ohio, about Flat Stanley. I had never heard of the Flat man before this, but looking on YouTube, it's quite the thing to love. Dan asked me to provide some cheesy voice-over work for it. Check it out. It's awful (the voice-over, not the video... the video is great). Whatever, I'm typing too much.



Today was a good day. Good friends at church, lunch and then a relaxing Sunday. I'm not looking forward to this week. But maybe...

Why the December to Remember Sales Event is Killing Tiny Tim

So every year I read a blog or an essay or a column or an essayical column about how Christmas is lost, dead, misguided, commercial, co-opted, disregarded, etc. I used to scoff at any writings like that, because I was busy losing, killing, deceiving, commercializing, stealing and ignoring Christmas myself for so long. But I think as I've had a heart more willing to look deeper this year, I've been stunned by what I've seen as I've tried to take account of this season.

The worst is the meaning of Christmas. It's one thing that the idea of Christmas has fairly well been converted from the birth of Jesus to the birth of the Wii, but it's one thing altogether to see the heart behind this new brand of Christmas. More often than not, advertisements play to the selfish side of humanity. "Get your shopping out of the way early", "Don't spend more than you have to this year", "Tell her you love her with diamonds", "Buy a Lexus to smooth over your marriage troubles", "Don't risk being in trouble with your gift this holiday season", and so on. I may have made up the Lexus advertisement, but you know in real life, I'm more right than wrong.

I just find it astounding that not only has the holiday been commercialized to death, but now the essence of what it became is being taken by an even deeper sense of self-centeredness. The culture around me at least seems more bored with Christmas than ever before, and shopping for presents seems more like an obligation (re: chore) than a privilege (re: pleasure) to give to a friend or loved one. I see Christians struggling with trying to reclaim their holiday, struggling to interject a kind act or two into 4 feet of freshly powdered Christmas Apathy. To quote Darrell Hammond imitating Phil Donahue, "Who is this Jesus?" indeed. Not only is Jesus lost, but our very act of giving has been lost. I think that's why so many people have this ideal to swear off presents... but you know... and I know... that you'll be buying presents. Sucker.

I guess this is the part of my story where I present a plan of action or an idea for hope or something. I don't have it. But I have been more aware of the hurt around me this year than ever before, and I think it's a start. My friend Jordan has been brainstorming for a while about how to bring some real kindness and cheer into his friend's lives this season, and it's inspired me to do the same, albeit with far less creativity than him. The best idea I have for myself is to look at my shopping this year a little less like I'm just checking off boxes of who to shop for, and more as an act of kindness. So I guess that means if I'm truly doing that, my uncle doesn't get a sweater this year. Because I get him that every year. Because that's what people buy their uncles.

Maybe try one act of kindness and see where that takes us. Hey, look what it did for Scrooge. It turned him from a mean, crotchety old man into a stuttering, babbling ball of joy who couldn't wait to fetch dead birds from racks all over London. And that was just for starters...

What are we feeding?

It's a good question.  Everyone seems to have a struggle with feeding a sin they have.  Some have more than one sin they are feeding.  I think some people struggle with feeding an insecurity, feeding despair, anger and pessimism (cough**Britton**cough).  It's easier to feed darker emotions than positive because it's hard to be let down when you're already feeding emotions centered on ending in disappointment and failure.  

I think that feeding our negativity causes adverse reactions in how we live our lives.  We're closed off, expect the worst in anything, maybe find comfort in food.  Anything Satan has to throw at us, he will. 

I wonder how much better things would be for you and me if we started feeding hope, feeding love, and maybe just for kicks feeding our faith for once.  How many turns in my life have I missed because I was too scared to go down a road I didn't know?  And I wonder how many times I've hurt my friends because I haven't trusted them they way they've trusted me.  And if Britton Dennis was to decide to truly hope, I wonder what that would look like in myself and in the reflections on others around me.

Tired...

It's weird, lately I've had nothing but bad dreams.  Last night, I had an amazing dream, but I woke up kind of sad because it wasn't real.  No fair!  But in other news, I slept like an absolute rockstar last night except for my small worry about a certain someone going to late night establishments by herself.  But wow, did I need that sleep.

I heart wings.

I had the chance to spend some time with great friends last night.  It was even better  to start being more open about telling my "story".  I've never wanted to talk about myself much, I usually only do it if people ask.  But even then I've always felt like no one really cares anyway.  Trust me, I know that's incorrect, but it's what I've told myself for years.  So here's to stepping out from the shadows a little more!  I feel like this paragraph made me sound crazy.  Whatever.

I am craving Buffalo wings.  I think the Valdez-Dennis express needs to get something done on that end, pronto.

No longer married to song lyric titles.

I went on a walk today through Lakewood, and I put on Relient K's Mmhmm album on the iPod. For being on the surface a pretty catchy, but predictable record, the lyrics in some of Matt Thiessen's work is completely relevant to my place in life right now. The second half of the album could be a mini-biography except for a few changes here and there. What a surprise and only reason #195425353 that I love music how I do.

I need prayer in the worst way. Prayer to find the will to move from where I am, I so despair where I am, but I seem to weaken at the prospect of moving away from this. To my Washington friends, this is more spiritual and mental, not physical. I love you all, and I don't want to leave.

"...I'm no Superman..."

I was thinking yesterday as I was at the Mariner game that I really don't blog the way that God intended bloggers to blog. In a perfect world, I could use this as a way to not only talk about things that matter to me, but to somehow in a mediocre fashion, chronicle the transpirings of my days.

I seem to save my posts for when I am going through deep feelings or thought processes. To borrow Cyrus from "The Warriors": "...that's crap, brothers." So to take back the true meaning of bloghood, let's hope this gets me writing more than I have been. I can be oh so lazy.

So I was about to type that I've been on a health kick lately, but I stopped writing it that way because I truly want this to be permanent. I have been doing so well in keeping healthy and fresh foods in my system, and I don't want this to just be a "kick". I'm on several missions in my life, and one of them is to change the way I see my health, and to change how I see the foods I have choices of eating.

The Mariner game last night was amazing, except for the fact that the Angels lost. So many blown chances by both teams, it was really anyone's game to win. I love going to games with Ben, because we've been doing that for almost 20 years and its fun to swap knowledge with him. Having his wife, Jenny and my friend Emily was nice too, I guess, hehe.

I really want to play softball next year.

"... i know.... there is so much more..."

I couldn't help but think philosophically a few nights ago. A man zoomed past my friend and I on a motorcycle, most likely hitting 100 mph. We commented blithely about the way he was driving and didn't give it another moment. Twenty minutes later we pass a horrifying wreck, the center of the freeway a sickening picture of mangled and burned machines. In the middle of that destruction, a sheet covering two bodies already gone, and ambulances racing to reach the ones still with hope to save. A motorcycle, charred and smashed, lies on the ground. A motorcycle looking too much like the one that raced past us. We have no idea if that was the man who had flown by us, but really we did know. The feeling hit us both at the same time, and we couldn't believe that we most likely saw that person's last moments in this life. Others died as well, and that impact will most likely reverberate through whole communities and families.

Sitting at the airport last night, I was watching planes land and passengers board to start their own journeys. The gate I was had flights coming in from Seattle, the city I was bound for. And it struck me of how mundane yet meaningful that circle is. As I concluded my adventures in San Diego this week, someone was just starting theirs. And as I landed in Seattle, someone was leaving that same place for somewhere else. We seem to move in this bland rotation of humanity, coming and going, talking or not talking, living or not living, trying or not trying. The planes will still take off, and they'll still land somewhere they were supposed to land.

Thinking of that tied together with the accident I saw. There was likely nothing extraordinary about the journey any of those cars involved were taking. Someone probably called their spouse or loved one, letting them know they'd be home late. Maybe someone didn't have anyone to call so they just sat in silence. Maybe one of them was just playing music. But all of them were likely in that same circle... of coming back from a place they'd just been. And without warning, the journey ended for some of them. Our lives are so complex and involved, yet our fragility is what makes it all worth living. Who but the Lord knows when our work on earth is done? Were they ready to meet the Father? Am I?

As time as gone on, I've become less and less afraid of death. This is mostly because I am sure beyond all doubt that my journey just gets going once I go to be with my Father. My only dread that late night came as I watched those covered bodies, wondering if they had been ready. I wondered if they were afraid or if they lived their lives knowing there was a final reward for those who believe in Him.

One of my favorite books of all time is called "The Last Battle", a book by C.S. Lewis from the Chronicles of Narnia series. The very last lines of the book are my very favorite, because in a way that all people, even children barely in grade school can understand, Lewis puts the idea of the final reward into beautiful clarity. The children were finished with their adventure and worried that Aslan would send them back to their earth now that the evil had been defeated.

Then Aslan turned to them and said:

"You do not yet look so happy as I mean you to be."

Lucy said, "We're so afraid of being sent away, Aslan. And you have sent us back into our own world so often."

"No fear of that," said Aslan. "Have you not guessed?"

Their hearts leaped and a wild hope rose within them.

"There was a real railway accident," said Aslan softly. "Your father and mother and all of you are--as you used to call it in the Shadow-Lands--dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning." And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.

Who can be afraid with hope of eternity like that?

"...no one came to our side to carry us away from danger..."

This past month or so (well less than a month, but it's more than a couple weeks... ok, let's just say 3 weeks), I've wrestled with some pretty weighty issues that I believe I never tried to understand or try to work out before. See, I'm pretty great at rationalizing my problems, and rationalizing my gut feelings into something completely at odds with what was probably there to begin with. And in doing this, it seems to lead me to places where I am not that convicted to do anything, because I don't actually believe what I talked myself into yet I am unmotivated to do what I know I should because I just spent so much time rationalizing why I shouldn't.

Is anyone confused yet? Probably. Let me simplify it.

I've usually been afraid to do what's right because I've always been afraid of what people will think of me. Ironic, since I have always cared so little about what I think of me. This has been evidenced in years of self-loathing, taking little to no care of myself and then blaming every factor under the sun except myself for my failings. It's a lovely part of me, you should ask me about it sometime.

Tongue-in-cheek aside, these past three weeks have raised great questions as to what my place in Christ's kingdom is. I haven't been looking for promises or for resolution, but even just a clue of what I have been put in this state to do. The choices I have made in the past month have taken me away from a wonderful girl, seemingly made most of my friends uncomfortable around me, and put me in a place that for the first time in my life, I have really desired to be surrounded by people... yet by God's will, that hasn't really happened yet. So when things like that happen, it's easy to do what has always come naturally to me, I want to rationalize my own feelings into something I can control, and ultimately... dismiss.

I can honestly say that I have never fought this much spiritual turmoil in my life. Truly, this is not hyperbole. I have been at war with myself, with Satan, even with Christ over my flesh desires against the desire to seek the heart of Jesus. And in that battle, I have died to talk to people, to release these words that I build up and just vent and hopefully get anything from others that can help me make sense of the battles waging inside of me. But like I said before, for some reason I've felt more alone than I've ever been since coming to Washington.

The cynic in me wants to put this on others, to say that this is what I get for wanting to have community when I've spent my whole life making community come to me. But that's part of my battle. I am aware and I am at war with my cynicism. I understand that it only leads me to solitude and a place where the only one I trust is me... the most dishonest of anyone I know. There is a side of me that wants to be known, that wants to tell my story, but I've been fighting this harsh war against an enemy that once again is trying to convince me that my story isn't worth being told... so I might as well not tell it anyway. It's scary, it's heartbreaking, and it makes no sense... to either you, or me. Trust me, I've been here the whole time and I don't even get it. A friend of mine last week stated that she wished I could put my "struggle" into a sentence so she could see where I was coming from. Amen, so do I.

I have a friend, who in the past few weeks, has completely shot down my ideas of what love really is. In this time, I've been amazed at her ability to give and give and give and give, and try so hard to not care about accepting little in return. In all of this, I've seen something tangible, my first answers on what love really is. I've thought so much about how it can even be possible, seeing that I've been for 26 years the creator and executive producer of "The Britton Dennis Show, starring Britton Dennis." To try to turn that production into a show starring all the people in my life, both known and unknown... it's a long stretch for me. I really don't know how to reach out, because I've done so much reaching in.

In that love I've discovered, I've seen that grace is so important. So important because grace opens eyes. Where anger and hurt blindly swing out at others, not caring who they hit, grace calmly sees the painting is much larger than what we can see on our part of the canvas. Grace takes a deep breath, and looks to understand how these things that cause us hurt might in fact be to the glory of God. I believe that grace gives the people around me the benefit of the doubt, and doesn't take any of my friendships that God has blessed me with for granted. Grace is realizing that this whole thing has been about giving my cares to Jesus and not to others in the first place. Grace comes when I take a deep breath, and realize... that God not only created me, but he created you. He created the girl who cries over you, over me... the man who can't understand me or you, but is still willing to hear us out. Grace is looking in a mirror and wanting to get to know the person behind the image a little better, instead of shunning it. Grace is realizing that compared to a gruesome death on a cross that didn't have to happen... my troubles are but dust in a vast sea of dirt.

This is all to say, to those around me who call me a friend and likewise I call friends... I am sorry. I have been very selfish these past few weeks. I have taken many of you for granted, I have believed with my flesh instead of with my faith, and it led me to a place where you couldn't reach me if you tried. Maybe you had no idea, and that's ok. This wasn't to make you think on that fact. But what I do want you to know, is that as my friend... I do love you very much, and I apologize that I haven't really shown you that very well. And in all of that, maybe that is what Jesus wanted me to see from the beginning.

"it's been a long time..."

I haven't posted in a long time, and so much has happened. My attitudes dance between heartbreaking, lifechanging, utter agony, and redemptive. I know that sounds really emo and I probably need to not write like I'm about to laugh/cry my way off the plank of a pirate ship, but God is doing weird things to this heart. Weird in that I've never given them recognition in that they exist so they still seem foreign to me.

The moral of the story as always... I babble.

But I need to start unpacking and getting feedback from my own introspections, but also from my closest friends who probably wish they knew what to say to me. Either way, I need to be back writing.

"...but we do it everyday..."

I haven't posted in a little while, and I think it's because I really haven't known how to tell my story recently. There is such a broad scope of change in my life that I have been remiss in finding clues as to what they mean.

When I turn on the television, I can't help but be saddened by what I've been seeing. It seems like no matter what issue we talk about, there is always a right way, and anyone who thinks differently is hateful or intolerant. I see hypocrisy, anger, judgment, denial, betrayal, and worst of all, apathy.

Today was the worst. I turned on the television to find that one man has killed, by himself, over 30 people at Virginia Tech University. There simply is nothing that can be said to try to explain how evil this was. In one moment, the darkness came over a man so completely, that he was able to coolly destroy so many lives and so many families. Just thinking of that makes me breathe harder and my heart clenches in confusion.

It seems the devil is always at my door and the door of my friends. There is no game he won't play, no trick he won't use, and no lie he won't tell. I have a friend who is struggling with her faith right now, and wondering why she can't leave the place where all she wants to do is follow her own desires. That isn't who she was created to be. She was created to give glory to God. The lie comes when the devil makes us belief that our purposes are in our own matters. They are not. They are indeed God's.

Despite all of this, and despite the hatred and evil that has been able to manifest itself in this world, God is still here. I feel it even more now than ever. The same God who took the time to create the infinite universe and took the time to especially create me, has a hand in all of this, even in the tragedies. That seems so trite and naive, but when I look back... I can't find a single horrible moment in my life that somehow God didn't work my future benefit.

We simply do not have the ability of foresight. We see the map of our lives as it comes and we forget that there is no possible way to see past what we are doing now. I thank God for my salvation. I praise Him that when something like today happens and that event causes so many in the world to doubt its meaning, that I can look up and know that I don't have to worry why. I know this because He took that worry from me on the cross. And because of that promise, I have no fear.

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

"...the devil is hot on my face again..."

This whole week has definitely been "off". I've had as little of sleep as I've had since I moved to Washington, and my days have been usually marked with this feeling that the world around me isn't spinning the way it should...or something. I think we've already decided that I as a writer and you as a reader that I am horrible with imagery.

I don't think there is any coincidence in how I've had such a hard time getting my heart in a place to talk to God and me feeling so separated from what I would consider a happier existence. God brings me to a place where I can feel meaningful in Him and see less reasoning to find meaning in what the world gives me. But when I drift from talking to Him, the world becomes a much prettier and worthwhile enterprise than it really seems. I think the devil does his work there.

I heard the best analogy for my struggle this week and the one who told me about it had no idea how much it spoke to me when she said it. Summarizing her badly, she said that the world is like this huge circus, being held under a beautiful sky. To seek God is to look to the sky, but the circus is always trying to get you hooked with whatever it can bring to tie your eyes away from the sky. That analogy speaks almost to the letter of how I've felt lately. The world has been throwing spectacle after spectacle in front of me, trying to bring me in more and more. I've been so strong, but lately the devil has been winning, and I see the effects of it on my heart. It takes all I have lately to just pry my eyes for a moment off the circus and into the sky.

This is where my spiritual immaturity rears its head. What do I do? How can I pray for God to speak to me clearly when I can't even focus enough to clearly ask for that? Where is the place I can go to in my soul that allows me to reach God the way I had been before?

I honestly don't know those answers... but I'll keep looking upward in case the answers have been trying to be find me already.

"...the stubborn souls are the losers here tonight..."

I find myself pretty perceptive about most things. I can sit in a room full of people and I can (with a little observation) start piecing together certain traits of a person's personality and use that to better understand them as a person. By the way, I used three forms of the word person in that last sentence... enjoy. Usually it's this awesome thing that helps me be a little more insightful with friends than I might have before been. All that is to say...

I hurt a friend these past few weeks. I had no idea this was happening, because I was too focused on me and on my intentions. Even if I am perceptive, at my very core I am overwhelmingly self-centered and it was easy the past few weeks to not notice and not care because I simply allowed my own wants to come before.

Never have I been this blown away by my own short-sightedness. I had to write about it, while it's still in my mind, so that I can come back and remember. A few days before, I was neatly putting into a mental box my feelings on things, and I put my friend into a box with everything else, without wondering or asking if I might actually be wrong or lacking persepective.

It seems like there is hurt around me, and people are struggling to find their place. I know I am from time to time. My battle lately has been to trust that people I care about actually care about me as well. That seems so pathetic and obvious, but it's been my deepest fear and source of distrust for as long as I've known it exists. Honestly, I don't know what God intends for me with my friends here exactly, but I am pretty certain it was to be better than I have been lately. Even the people that enjoy my company, whether they know it or not, I've probably been a less than adequate influence.

I'm still sitting here blown away. God is good to me, even when He has to break my heart to grow it back into something better. I can do nothing but give Him praise, because He has never turned His back. But right now, I feel pretty foolish in spite of myself.

"...I wish it were Sunday, cause that's my fun day..."

Short post today, since it's Sunday. Probably also because I'm quite tired from working out. Why that's a fine segue for the next paragraph.

I think my feet are finally starting to return to their strength. I'm not 100% 24/7, but I am getting stronger on my workouts everyday and the pain is less and less after each time. So God willing, I can continue to restore this body and get to business.

This is where I leave, but probably not forever.

"...all I need is a miracle..."

We've been looking at Acts 3 this past week, and studying a story of Peter and John with a beggar at the temple. It's a dramatic scene: a man who's been begging for years sees these two men at the gate walking in and asks them for money. Peter and John both look at him immediately, and they move toward the man. The man is expectant since probably every time before, this meant that some coins were going to be dropped to him. But Peter has the man look him in the eye and says, "Silver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk." Peter takes him firmly by the hand and brings him up.

I can only imagine what that beggar was thinking at that moment. Probably something like, "Hey, idiot, what are you doing? I can't wa...whoa. Wait a second. Um, guys... I guarantee you this wasn't happening 5 minutes ago." Because at that moment, where seconds ago he was a cripple lying on the ground, God made him able to walk again. That's what makes miracles so powerful. One miracle can immediately alter the course of things. This man's healing certainly did.

It got me thinking today about miracles and healing. I wondered why it was that there doesn't seem to be that miraculous gift given to many people today. Don't get me wrong, I do believe miracles exist and healing occurs everyday, but not in the evangelistic way it used to, I suppose. Can you imagine if Christians had that gift today? I have seen men and women who have disabilities and deformities, and I would be so glad if I could walk up to them and say, "By the name of God, you are healed." But I can't. Maybe my prayers have helped a friend in the past, but God did not give me the gift of performing signs and wonders to those I come into contact with.

So why does it seem like there are less miracles and healings?

Well I think the biggest reason is our growth in knowledge and power as humans. More and more of what we do is relegated to the marvel of modern medicine. If a girl's pnuemonia goes away overnight, it is easy to say that this medicine or this treatment caused it and we should all be thankful. If a baby born 3 months premature survives, it's easy to say that our advancements have made it possible. And to some extent, I think that's true. But it also masks that no matter what, God is always working. No matter what the circumstance.

It's so easy to explain God away in our world. At the end of the day, no one can prove the "big bang theory", yet so many of our smartest and brightest have no problem taking that scientific leap, as long as God gets no credit. Don't get me wrong, I have a very mixed opinion of creationism vs. evolution and all that good stuff, but that's for a different time. But that's just one example of how easy it is to discredit God.

The second reason I think maybe they don't exist the way they do is the time and place they were occurring. It seems that whenever God created the miraculous and brought so many back to Him was at times when the world needed it the most. God parted seas, stopped the rain, gave a king fifteen more years of life, and helped a small kid beat a mighty warrior all because the people He loved were in dire need. When Jesus came to Judea, the people were losing hope. They were under the rule of now their 4th oppressor in the past 600 years, and no sign of reprieve was anywhere. Jesus came to Israel at their darkest hour and gave them light. I believe that he didn't heal people completely to make them better, but to tell the people, "Hey, did you know that even now, God is here WITH YOU?" As more and more people came to know the Way, the miracles seemed to move further into the background.

It seems like our world is nearing that place again. Our peers, friends and family fall into despair faster than we can reach them, and many feel like there is no hope and nowhere to turn. Perhaps, a time of God revealing his power again in these ways will come soon. But I guess that is not for us to know.

The last reason might simply be that we are not the people meant to be an instrument in such ways for God's will. God still heals and performs miracles, but does it in His own timing. It's so hard for us to understand that, because we want people to be better. If you think I wouldn't have loved to look at my grandpa whom I loved so dearly and tell him, "In the name of Jesus, your cancer is gone", you're misguided. But what do I ignore if I do that? He lost his only love to illness a year earlier, he was ready to finish the race. He touched an entire town with his kindness, and no one would ever be his equal. He was done. What would healing him have done? I always assume I know what God should do more than He does, and every time I get it after just a little bit of thought and prayer.

God is mysterious, but only because He can see so far down the road, that He has the map all sorted out. We are only able to look right in front of us, and as such we cannot see what His will is all the time. Maybe that's why we don't perform miracles like we used to do. Maybe God has His own timing and maybe the little things we do for each other are the miracles themselves.

I don't know, I haven't really studied enough to have a definitive answer. All I know is no matter how much I learn, it always comes back to faith. Do I have enough faith in God to believe that even if a miracle doesn't happen and a prayer doesn't go my way, that His will is so perfect that I know it will be for good at the end? That's my own challenge. To still love God's will even if it contradicts my own, and leaves me broken for a time.

"...i'm in a hurry to get things done..."

A woman and I were walking from the parking lot to the post office to do our post officing business. I have a long stride, but was certainly not walking with any competitive fire or movement. She then proceeds to jog up ahead of me, open the door and shut it behind her so it would slow me down... only for us to both be in the same ungodly long line.

As luck would have it, two clerks were finished with customers at the same time, and so we both got to go simultaneously. Guess who was done first? I'll give you a hint. Me.

If you think I didn't find that all a little ironic and lifelessonable, you're insane.

Or smarter than me. Whatever.

"...all I need is something to keep me holding on..."

I've been working out with my senior pastor the past few weeks. That's right, not youth, worship, or children's pastor.. the head man himself. I'd like to briefly describe what that experience is like... so you can catch the surreal nature of this partnership. These quotes are summarized and said with the most respect possible.

Pastor Andy: "Alright, well don't hurt yourself too much. Go light. I like to use this machine to warm up." He then proceeds to put the weight on the highest setting and bang out 10 reps like it was nothing.

Me: "Ummm... what? I... wow. Alright let me try." I then put it at probably a third of what he has it at.

Pastor Andy: (watching me struggle like a dying deer) "Don't push it too much. You'd hate to pull or tear something."

Me: (still channeling the dying deer) "Yeah... (gasping breath)... I know... (gasping breath)... wow, this is heavy."

Pastor Andy: "Lets get some water."

I come to find out that he has been committed to working out for almost 4 years and he rarely misses. I've loved the motivation he provides me as well as the just plain down to earth way he's teaching me to lift. God and I decided that I've been wasting a lot of time lately and it's time to get moving. I think He's put Pastor Andy in my life right now to boost that process. For that, I am incredibly blessed.

The End

"...the bleeding heart show..."

I want to be able to say that others around me fail me and that is the reason why I myself sometimes fail.

It's more and more obvious that I do a pretty good job of being my only excuse for failing. And that is disquieting.

I think tomorrow would be a good day to bounce back and accomplish some things I've needed to do for a long while.

I can't think of anything better than writing a post like this to end the night. But now I'm quite sleepy.

"...my sin...is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more..."

One of the most dramatic and tragic stories of modern Christianity is the life of sacrifice lived by a man named Horatio Spafford. I first heard his story from a dramatic re-enactment on a children's radio program, and his story has stuck with me like an engraving ever since.

Spafford was a very prominent lawyer and Christian in Chicago in the 1800's. He was influential both in the political and judicial world, as well as with major American Christian leaders. Blessed with both leadership talents and incredible wealth, Spafford used his gifts to do amazing things for the Lord.

We can never understand God's will fully, and with Spafford I often wonder why God chose him to bear all of these burdens. First, his wife Anna and he lost their oldest son to disease. In the midst of grieving for their son, the great fire hit Chicago in 1871. Biographers seem to agree that Spafford lost most of his investments in this fire and so lost most of his wealth. His friends, including influential evangelist D.L. Moody helped him recover, but pain was not yet gone from Spafford's door.

In 1873, Spafford and his family decided to take a holiday in England, since Moody was going to be preaching there. Business matters held him up, however, so he sent his family ahead. In the middle of their voyage, on November 21 of that year, the ship struck another vessel and sunk, killing all four of his daughters. Only his wife remained alive. His wife cabled him with the news of the accident, starting simply with, "Saved alone..."

Spafford, destroyed with grief and despair took a ship to meet his wife in England. It is said that while on board, he wrote a poem that expressed in his most humble fashion, the grace and power of God. Later, his friend Phillip Bliss, who was a close friend and confidant to Spafford in these times, put it to music. The song was called "It is Well with My Soul."

Spafford still wasn't done with his trials. He would lose another son to disease and have only one surviving daughter out of 7 children born to him. Instead of sitting in anger and bitterness, Spafford lived a life that reflected his hymn. He spent the final years of his life in Israel, providing food, shelter and medicine to many Jews, Muslims and Christians in the years before World War I. He too would die of disease right before his 60th birthday, and was laid to rest in Jerusalem in 1888. To the very end, Spafford lived a life of faith and passion, even when he was tested like very few ever have been.

His story makes that hymn that much more meaningful as I despair through simple trials. How often are things really ok, but we are so desperate to feel sorry for ourselves that we reject joy? Is that so easy for us because we are afraid of faith or because we believe we've earned the right to feel like we've been wronged by God? I really don't know yet. I only feel like I have far more to be thankful for than I give myself credit.

It Is Well with My Soul

When peace, like a river,
attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot,
Thou hast taught me to know,
“It is well, it is well with my soul”

It is well (it is well)
with my soul (with my soul)
It is well, it is well with my soul

Though Satan should buffet,
though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded
my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh the bliss
of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to His cross,
and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

And Lord haste the day
when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound,
and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

"...the mind that knows itself, is a mind that knows much more..."

So I wasn't especially in a reflective mood yesterday evening as I left the Ram where I had dinner (by the way, a big big thank you to all my friends who made it out last night, a big thank you to Lindsay for getting us the table and definitely to Emily who got a hold of most people to go), but just like the face I make when things get awkward, some things are simply bound to happen.

I have beautiful friends. The people that I am so very lucky to consider my companions on this incredible journey are flawed, messed up human beings just like I am (I know... Britton, not you... stop talking that way you mighty man among men), but there is so much beauty in the people I know, that I can't help but almost be overwhelmed by it. There are friends who always make me laugh, friends that I can relate to on different issues, friends that would do anything for me if I needed it, friends I can feel an incredible connection with on so many things, and for some of them, they fulfill all of those things all at once.

I looked around the table last night for a bit and watched my different friends with their conversations and nuances and I had to laugh to myself. God is good, on so many levels. Here I was 5 months ago so painfully introverted that the mere idea of going to church was so paralyzing that I would sometimes miss it just to avoid being around these same people. I would sit at home and pray for a connection, for even just a person that might one day care. And to see what God has done with such a lame guy, am I even worthy of it? Can I even claim that I ever deserved these blessings? There are few things more uplifting than the presence of a good friend, and I am so glad to know that I get that chance so often.

Don't worry, I'm pretty certain that I know how mushy this post was. But I simply do not care. I thank God for his grace and his mercy and I thank all of you in my new home that have made me feel so cared for here.

Today I get to go into Seattle again and check out the city before a Sonics game tonight. I love getting into the city and feeling it's energy, even if I have no idea where the slappyjack I am no matter where I end up going. You have to love that. Having Taylor here has been great, because when you grow up with someone, it's like riding a bike. After an hour, it's like we never lost touch.

"...instant karma..."

I kid you not... no more than half a day after I posted a list of my ultimate pet peeves, the second of the peeves occurred while 4 guys were over watching basketball. I can't make this up. Touche fate, touche.

"...call on me, Valerie... call on me..."

I have several pet peeves. Not many, but they exist. The first is finding out far too late that the public restroom stall of my choosing has no toliet paper and I'm forced to make a switch mid-game. The second is finding out far too late that the restroom I am using in my house has no toilet paper, but the house is full of people and I panic wondering what I will do. But I have to say that my occasional destructive peeve has to be the awkward, horrible few moments known as the voicemail.

Its no small secret that for the most part I hate talking on the phone. Except for those occasional moments when I feel like talking, I am hesitant to call people. The only reason? The dreaded voicemail. Nothing to me is more awkward. Especially if I'm unclear about why I'm calling. The worst is that I never know how to END the voicemail, so I usually ramble on for 15 extra seconds before I finally just freak out and hang up the phone. I wish I wasn't the only one who feels this way. It would make me feel less weird. But I know how it is.

I hope to outgrow this before I'm 50.

"...do what you can to anoint my head..."

Today was absolutely terrifying. Hold on, let me use stronger hyperbole. Today was a day of paralyzing, tortuous fear. Super. In a lot of ways, it really was. Tonight I sang on a stage for the first time. I had a microphone and everything. Instruments were being played around me. People were watching me. I can't even describe the terror (there I go with the hyperbole again) of looking out and seeing my church looking back at me and having no idea what they were thinking. So I did the next best thing I could think of to do.

I gave up trying to care about it.

God is amazing. Even in the middle of all that fear and nervousness, He came to me and focused my mind on what was really my reason for being there. And once that happened, everything melted away. It was just God and I. And I loved it.

This doesn't mean that I want to make singing a normal thing or whatever, but I felt so loved and just wanted to love Him so much by being up there. This is me now cutting myself off at two imaginary drinks and ending this blog.

God is good.

My friends are good.

Today was good.

"...home is heaven..."

The apostles of Jesus were nuts. There, I said it. The apostles were nuts and we never really give them their due. The first thing I say to Peter after we exchange fist pounds and a one-armed slap hug in heaven is to tell him that he was a nutcase. For people like me who live in the U.S., the way they lived their lives and carried about their business is so anthithetical to my upbringing that I had to look up the word "antithetical" before I could even use it. I nailed it by the way. Look it up.

In Acts 2:42-47, it basically says that the apostles and the believers devoted themselves to study, prayer, and spending all their time in fellowship with each other. It said that they shared all they had and sold their own stuff to help each other out. My friends have on occasion said that sharing of that nature was commonplace, but I have to disagree. Unselfish love of that nature is just not common, it's not easy and it simply never happens.

I always think it's funny that the apostles and the believers always spent time with each other, but we today get over people so quickly and we forget that we are selfish lamewads who are conditioned to believe that the world is truly about ourselves (I am so guilty of this, so back off me Stone Casting police). We judge easily, we look for ways to be apart, to not talk about what we struggle with, and we cover it up with jokes and nonchalance. Even in their relationships, the apostles and the believers gave of themselves completely.

I've always been jealous of how the Holy Spirit was so apparent on the apostles that it came on them like fire, literal fire. I have often thought that it must have just been a different time and place, just like the burning bush with Moses or God's smackdown session with Job. But then, it came to me that perhaps we don't see it here, because we don't sell ourselves out the best we can the way they did. What if we have the best of intentions, but we are unwilling to take that step that truly says with our actions, "God, I am willing to be supplied and made happy by You and You alone."? Is that what keeps so many of us from feeling that holy fire?

A preacher I listened to on my $349 iPod posed a question. "How can I be sold out for Jesus in the United States?" It's easy to do that in Africa, where you can't walk without stumbling over a way to help the cause of Jesus. It's probably easier in many, many places. But what about here? How do we show love to those around us? When Jesus said that "whatever you did for the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me," what did that mean for us who live in such a materialistic time?

I think it will take thought, real thought from you, from me and from any of those who wish to make Jesus known to their peers. Even if that just means showing love to a friend in trouble with a hug or an ear to listen. It could mean giving some assistance to someone falling on harsh times. It could be coming to the aid of someone you don't even know, just because it's the right thing to do. No matter how blessed this country is, Jesus is still a mystery to so many people.

The apostles really were insane. For beings of creation like us that are perverted by their longings for money, power, possessions, popularity and respect, they gave us an example of what it means to sell out for Christ in the world they lived in. I pray that if you often wonder what that means to you, that God will put that on your heart, and you will answer that call, and show who Jesus is to a world that is still dark and lost. Because our final resting place isn't with our things, or our unspoken words. For those who believe, our home is heaven.

"Home is heaven
One day Lord, I will live
In Your courts, You'll find me
In worship at Your feet
Hide me now
In the shadow of Your wings
Where I will be"