For a week or so, the news has been following the process of a 'massive' generator on its trek through the Brazos Valley to Riesel's new coal plant. They have informed us that it moves about 1 mile per hour and would pretty much shut down the roads it travels on. We have been told that it is an awesome sight to see, that it is not done justice by its pictures. It is a, to quote some posters on the news site, "Once in a lifetime sight"
Today, I saw this thing. It was...a disappointment.
I've seen impressive things, man-made and God-made. Hoover Dam is impressive. The St. Louis arch is impressive. Exotic sports cars are impressive. Then, on a whole other level of awesome, I've seen the Grand Canyon and stood atop mountains in Rocky Mountain National Park, placed my feet in a sort of ocean (the Gulf of Mexico is only technically an ocean to me). This machine was nothing to write home about. (Yes, I am aware of the irony of that statement, but wait for it...)
Have we as a people become so excited about mediocrity that we celebrate lesser things? Graduation ceremonies at every grade level, a medal for every finisher, and a mentality that everyone is a winner or special in their own way seems to breed a desire for a level playing field for us all. Excel at anything and you make others feel bad, so pull it back a notch, drop it down a gear, slow your stride before the finish. I'm not in anyway advising bad sportsmanship, running up scores or rubbing in your excellence, but if you are great at something, be great.
And we must stop standing in awe of lesser gods. C.S Lewis said it best:
If we consider the unblushing promises of
reward and the staggering nature of the
rewards promised in the Gospels, it seem
that our Lord finds our desires not too
strong, but too more weak. We are
half-hearted creatures, fooling about with
drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy
is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants
to go on making mud pies in a slum because he
cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a
holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.
So I refuse to stand in awe of a big, but disappointing generator. I would rather have my breath stolen by the Rocky Mountain vistas and chilled air. I would rather be mesmerized by the cascade of colors at sunset. I'd rather marvel at the work of God in remaking his children each day.
Let us raise our standards, and our dreams, to a level beyond our limitations, and into His presence.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Life as Story
This past Sunday, the Gate started a four week series on how to live your life like its a story. Many thanks to Donald Miller and various other writer types for putting this idea into print.
That being put out there, we started Sunday with Story, sort of an intro to the idea. As I think about this concept, I notice that Story and Vision become interchangeable. What we say when we want our lives to tell a good story is that we want to have a life of vision. The great stories either tell us about people with vision, or are, in their essence, visionary. Star Wars is visionary, Lost is visionary, Gone With the Wind is about people with vision, Lord of the Rings is really both about vision and itself visionary. My favorite line from Lonesome Dove is the last line of the miniseries. A reporter asks Captain Call a series of questions, which he of course ignores. Finally, exasperated, he begs, "They say you're a man of vision!" Call stops, a flashback ensues of the cattle drive, and of the friends lost on said drive, and he responds, "Man of vision, you say?" He slightly cocks his head and says, with the odd mixture of pain and pride, "Hell of a vision."
To live a life worthy of story, or a life of vision, it is impossible to go without loss, pain, disappointment right alongside the victories, the happiness and the fulfillment. Frodo loses a finger and his peace yet saves the world for his friends, Bruce Wayne in the Dark Knight loses the chance at a normal life for the sake of saving Gotham City and protecting a friends integrity, Call was the first cattle rancher in Montana but he lost his lifelong best friend.
Vision is costly, but it is necessary. Vision not only leads us to a better life story, it serves others. The Gate is a product of vision, and though starting a church for college students and young adults that meets in a bar is not simple, easy or financially profitable, it is worthy. Each life we touch is as vital to us as we hope that we are to them. People who have come to our gatherings find themselves welcomed into the Gate's story, into our lives, and I hope caught up into something larger than just a bar church.
See, thats what story is about: My story caught up in HIS Story. My role, my narrative, is but one plot thread of an epic. I fear that too often, we feel that our lives are not important, too mundane. The answer to that is that we need to realize that our story, our vision is as large as we can see. We can't all be caught up in a story like Frodo's, or even Captain Call's, but there is adventure, and it lies in pursuit of Christ.
If we choose to take the risk to see the vision.
That being put out there, we started Sunday with Story, sort of an intro to the idea. As I think about this concept, I notice that Story and Vision become interchangeable. What we say when we want our lives to tell a good story is that we want to have a life of vision. The great stories either tell us about people with vision, or are, in their essence, visionary. Star Wars is visionary, Lost is visionary, Gone With the Wind is about people with vision, Lord of the Rings is really both about vision and itself visionary. My favorite line from Lonesome Dove is the last line of the miniseries. A reporter asks Captain Call a series of questions, which he of course ignores. Finally, exasperated, he begs, "They say you're a man of vision!" Call stops, a flashback ensues of the cattle drive, and of the friends lost on said drive, and he responds, "Man of vision, you say?" He slightly cocks his head and says, with the odd mixture of pain and pride, "Hell of a vision."
To live a life worthy of story, or a life of vision, it is impossible to go without loss, pain, disappointment right alongside the victories, the happiness and the fulfillment. Frodo loses a finger and his peace yet saves the world for his friends, Bruce Wayne in the Dark Knight loses the chance at a normal life for the sake of saving Gotham City and protecting a friends integrity, Call was the first cattle rancher in Montana but he lost his lifelong best friend.
Vision is costly, but it is necessary. Vision not only leads us to a better life story, it serves others. The Gate is a product of vision, and though starting a church for college students and young adults that meets in a bar is not simple, easy or financially profitable, it is worthy. Each life we touch is as vital to us as we hope that we are to them. People who have come to our gatherings find themselves welcomed into the Gate's story, into our lives, and I hope caught up into something larger than just a bar church.
See, thats what story is about: My story caught up in HIS Story. My role, my narrative, is but one plot thread of an epic. I fear that too often, we feel that our lives are not important, too mundane. The answer to that is that we need to realize that our story, our vision is as large as we can see. We can't all be caught up in a story like Frodo's, or even Captain Call's, but there is adventure, and it lies in pursuit of Christ.
If we choose to take the risk to see the vision.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
I-Pod Really is the 'Soundtrack to Your Life.'
For far too long my life was void of meaningful sound. Then, like dawn of a newborn day, the light that is I-pod shone into my life. No longer was I burdened with a mountain of shiny discs to carry around that belong in cases that break far too easily when pressed under the weight of a shoe merely trying to find its comfortable spot in a car. No longer did 'skips' ruin the melody of a favorite song. No, life was full.
Then rain killed my I-Pod. And for a time, life was again, silent and dark. After a few months of mourning its loss (and saving up for a better version) we adopted a second I-Pod. Even better than the first, I no longer had to pick and choose which songs to add to it's library. There was enough memory to hold anyone's entire collection of music- save for my friend Kevin, who, seriously, has waaaaay too much music.
Life was great. I was able to listen while at work, pouring over moldy old deed records for countless hours while filling my ears with the wailings of Bono, or Switchfoot, the poetic musings of Crowder or Webb, the loud beats of POD, and occasionally, some country song Kristin put on there.
Then, like the clap of thunder that is gone too quickly- my earphones broke. Sure I could still listen in the car, or in the speaker at home, but work was dreary and dead without my soundtrack. For far too long, I transcribed in silence, left only to wandering thoughts, wherein I was doing something else. Anything else. And the darkness grew.
For Christmas, my mother-in-law got me earphones. Not the painful factory kind, but the cushy, pillow-inside-my-ear kind. Finally, I could walk from my office to records, a song of inspiration putting a spring in my step again (not like in Saturday Night Fever, mind you. I own no polyester jumpsuit nor any rhythym.) Even the Overture from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves has its place when I am looking over yellowed, handwritten pages- it is almost like being in the movie- minus the arrows and fire, and poor English Dialect uttered by Kevin Costner.
So, if your life is filled with a quiet desperation, go find an I-Pod. Fill it with the soundtrack of your life. Play it loud.
And spring for the fancy earbuds.
Then rain killed my I-Pod. And for a time, life was again, silent and dark. After a few months of mourning its loss (and saving up for a better version) we adopted a second I-Pod. Even better than the first, I no longer had to pick and choose which songs to add to it's library. There was enough memory to hold anyone's entire collection of music- save for my friend Kevin, who, seriously, has waaaaay too much music.
Life was great. I was able to listen while at work, pouring over moldy old deed records for countless hours while filling my ears with the wailings of Bono, or Switchfoot, the poetic musings of Crowder or Webb, the loud beats of POD, and occasionally, some country song Kristin put on there.
Then, like the clap of thunder that is gone too quickly- my earphones broke. Sure I could still listen in the car, or in the speaker at home, but work was dreary and dead without my soundtrack. For far too long, I transcribed in silence, left only to wandering thoughts, wherein I was doing something else. Anything else. And the darkness grew.
For Christmas, my mother-in-law got me earphones. Not the painful factory kind, but the cushy, pillow-inside-my-ear kind. Finally, I could walk from my office to records, a song of inspiration putting a spring in my step again (not like in Saturday Night Fever, mind you. I own no polyester jumpsuit nor any rhythym.) Even the Overture from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves has its place when I am looking over yellowed, handwritten pages- it is almost like being in the movie- minus the arrows and fire, and poor English Dialect uttered by Kevin Costner.
So, if your life is filled with a quiet desperation, go find an I-Pod. Fill it with the soundtrack of your life. Play it loud.
And spring for the fancy earbuds.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Polka Dot Christmas and New Year's Hopes
Christmas has come and gone, as has 2009 in general, and I for one am glad. About 2009, not Christmas.
See, for me, 2009 was a year of not much fun. Good things happened here and there, like finally nailing down what Kristin's illnesses were all about and getting a plan for that. It was also fun to watch Leslie begin gymnastics and get pretty good rather quickly, and Kenna has really developed a personality quite unlike what we expected it would be.
But 2009 was difficult spiritually. Struggles, health, and just plain apathy had gotten the better of me. One of the ways it manifested was in the lack of writing I did here. I love to write, but it is hard to write when you have nothing good to write about. In the midst of all this, I made one of those "God, make the fleece wet,no, wait, dry," deals with God. I kind of threw out there this thought, "God, if you still care about my happiness or joy, send me snow on Christmas."
Now, I forgot about that, because, A) it was kind of childish; and B) I live in south central Texas. Things went on for a while, and finally I began to climb out of the weariness and 'give-up attitude,' with a big help from Kristin, Donald Miller and the David Crowder Band, which pointed me toward Christ again. Things were getting better, but hope was still a fleeting thing to me, and I still lacked that feeling like I had a real strong reason for being. I had heard enough over the years that it was OK to just be ordinary and not do anything amazing (if you're like me, you remember that scene in the Incredibles where the Dad exclaims that the fear is that the super fast son would not fail, but that he would be great). So rather than dream big, I hedged my bets, and played it safe for a long time. Even with the Gate, I had begun to play it safe more often than not.
Christmas Eve it began to flurry while we were at my Mom's house near Waco. It was during a trip outside to get firewood that I remembered my shout out to God. It was certainly no White Christmas, Polka Dot Christmas at best, but it was snow. On Christmas Eve. In Texas.
I know its a big leap, but I started thinking again after that about big things. Not big things so that I become big, but big things to make His Name big. I've written a memoir that covers the first two years of the Gate, while also- like the flashbacks on Lost- telling the backstory that influences the things happening in the main story. Its a story that I think people should read, not just because I wouldn't mind the extra cash every no and then, but also because its real. Its real life, and its not so different from what others may ahve experienced. In my small vision world, it was something that would have been read just by family and friends. But this new year, I want to try to get it published. The attempt may fail, but the greater failure is to not try.
So, in 2010, I want to write more here, and in a follow up 'book.' You know, just in case 'Unfinished' gets published and is a huge success. But at the heart, I want to live better. For my own health. For my wife and kids. For my friends. For my church. For my God.
That's my New Year's Hope.
See, for me, 2009 was a year of not much fun. Good things happened here and there, like finally nailing down what Kristin's illnesses were all about and getting a plan for that. It was also fun to watch Leslie begin gymnastics and get pretty good rather quickly, and Kenna has really developed a personality quite unlike what we expected it would be.
But 2009 was difficult spiritually. Struggles, health, and just plain apathy had gotten the better of me. One of the ways it manifested was in the lack of writing I did here. I love to write, but it is hard to write when you have nothing good to write about. In the midst of all this, I made one of those "God, make the fleece wet,no, wait, dry," deals with God. I kind of threw out there this thought, "God, if you still care about my happiness or joy, send me snow on Christmas."
Now, I forgot about that, because, A) it was kind of childish; and B) I live in south central Texas. Things went on for a while, and finally I began to climb out of the weariness and 'give-up attitude,' with a big help from Kristin, Donald Miller and the David Crowder Band, which pointed me toward Christ again. Things were getting better, but hope was still a fleeting thing to me, and I still lacked that feeling like I had a real strong reason for being. I had heard enough over the years that it was OK to just be ordinary and not do anything amazing (if you're like me, you remember that scene in the Incredibles where the Dad exclaims that the fear is that the super fast son would not fail, but that he would be great). So rather than dream big, I hedged my bets, and played it safe for a long time. Even with the Gate, I had begun to play it safe more often than not.
Christmas Eve it began to flurry while we were at my Mom's house near Waco. It was during a trip outside to get firewood that I remembered my shout out to God. It was certainly no White Christmas, Polka Dot Christmas at best, but it was snow. On Christmas Eve. In Texas.
I know its a big leap, but I started thinking again after that about big things. Not big things so that I become big, but big things to make His Name big. I've written a memoir that covers the first two years of the Gate, while also- like the flashbacks on Lost- telling the backstory that influences the things happening in the main story. Its a story that I think people should read, not just because I wouldn't mind the extra cash every no and then, but also because its real. Its real life, and its not so different from what others may ahve experienced. In my small vision world, it was something that would have been read just by family and friends. But this new year, I want to try to get it published. The attempt may fail, but the greater failure is to not try.
So, in 2010, I want to write more here, and in a follow up 'book.' You know, just in case 'Unfinished' gets published and is a huge success. But at the heart, I want to live better. For my own health. For my wife and kids. For my friends. For my church. For my God.
That's my New Year's Hope.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Freedom
The last few days here in College Station have been beautiful. Now, admittedly, my view of beautiful weather is probably a bit skewed, but the gray rainy days are my favorites. Today is the first day since Monday that we have made it to the 80s, Tuesday and Wednesday we never left the 60s.
Its about this time of year that I begin to feel trapped at work. My office is windowless, and stuffy. When I get out, I generally have to spend my time in musty old rooms filled with giant record books. But between my office and the records, I have maybe a hundred yards of cool, fresh Fall air to soak up. Like a gateway drug, it only leaves me wanting more. So, I am trying to find excuses to escape the confines that come with the job.
One way is to go to campus and do a little work from there. It allows me the chance to see reminders of why we're here, as thousands of college students walk by, heads down, ears plugged with I-pods and such, and backs burdened with books. I get the chance to pray for them, and get some work done at the same time, and enjoy the air.
I also find myself going and simply walking around the backyard. The soggy yard squishing water with every step, the smell of the wet cedar fence, the cool breeze that will occasionally shock my lung with it's suddenness. They make me feel alive. They remind of Falls growing up, Friday's after school, in the hours between class's end and the games that night. Though I never played football, there was a sense of expectancy in those hours, a sense of...freedom.
As those memories play through my mind, I think a lot about freedom. We are given life to experience it. I watch my girls, Leslie trying out her new gymnastics moves, bounding about, and Kenna twirling as she and Kristin watch Dancing With The Stars. they are living, not bound to the worries of bills, and responsibilities, and concerns. They are free. In a lesser way, the college students we work with are free, too. They are spreading their wings, learning through trial and error who they really are. They test themselves to see their limits, but they still have more freedom to dream of futures untold, to try new things free of the burdens of full time jobs (for some, anyway).
But lest you think I feel trapped by life, I need you to know that actually, I feel more free than I have in a long time. I would love to be full time with the Gate, setting my own hours so I could go with Leslie to gymnastics every week, and then swing by campus for an hour or two to meet with students, or staying out way too late because I could sleep in the next day. That's still a long way off, but for now, I feel free because God has allowed us to pursue this dream, to be in the lives of some college students and young adults as they navigate these vital years. As we walk with them, we can live their freedom with them a bit. Movie nights, disc golf, coffee shops, talking through relationship issues, seeking answers to tough God stuff- it is freeing.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go walk on my soggy yard.
Its about this time of year that I begin to feel trapped at work. My office is windowless, and stuffy. When I get out, I generally have to spend my time in musty old rooms filled with giant record books. But between my office and the records, I have maybe a hundred yards of cool, fresh Fall air to soak up. Like a gateway drug, it only leaves me wanting more. So, I am trying to find excuses to escape the confines that come with the job.
One way is to go to campus and do a little work from there. It allows me the chance to see reminders of why we're here, as thousands of college students walk by, heads down, ears plugged with I-pods and such, and backs burdened with books. I get the chance to pray for them, and get some work done at the same time, and enjoy the air.
I also find myself going and simply walking around the backyard. The soggy yard squishing water with every step, the smell of the wet cedar fence, the cool breeze that will occasionally shock my lung with it's suddenness. They make me feel alive. They remind of Falls growing up, Friday's after school, in the hours between class's end and the games that night. Though I never played football, there was a sense of expectancy in those hours, a sense of...freedom.
As those memories play through my mind, I think a lot about freedom. We are given life to experience it. I watch my girls, Leslie trying out her new gymnastics moves, bounding about, and Kenna twirling as she and Kristin watch Dancing With The Stars. they are living, not bound to the worries of bills, and responsibilities, and concerns. They are free. In a lesser way, the college students we work with are free, too. They are spreading their wings, learning through trial and error who they really are. They test themselves to see their limits, but they still have more freedom to dream of futures untold, to try new things free of the burdens of full time jobs (for some, anyway).
But lest you think I feel trapped by life, I need you to know that actually, I feel more free than I have in a long time. I would love to be full time with the Gate, setting my own hours so I could go with Leslie to gymnastics every week, and then swing by campus for an hour or two to meet with students, or staying out way too late because I could sleep in the next day. That's still a long way off, but for now, I feel free because God has allowed us to pursue this dream, to be in the lives of some college students and young adults as they navigate these vital years. As we walk with them, we can live their freedom with them a bit. Movie nights, disc golf, coffee shops, talking through relationship issues, seeking answers to tough God stuff- it is freeing.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go walk on my soggy yard.
Friday, September 11, 2009
8 Years
So on Facebook today, a lot of people were talking about where they were 8 years ago, when the world changed. I was on my way to class, coincidentally it was class in which we were at that time discussing urban legends, and when I first hear from a friend what had happened in New York, I thought it was hoax. Or at least that it was exaggeration. It wasn't, and what I remember of that day was that everyone was in a haze. Much like it had been two years earlier when Bonfire fell, but this time, it was worldwide.
But tonight, I got to thinking about what has happened these last eight years, personally and to the world at large. In the days that followed, there was fear, anger, hopelessness, and also resolve. Since that day, it seems that we as a country have grown more fearful, less trusting. We are as a nation more divided than we have been in my lifetime. Fear of what the next big tragedy is looms in the air-will swine flu get us? Or biological warfare? Or will we all be on a breadline- or forced into socialism or fascism, or some other -ism? And our fear and distrust have not made us better.
I wonder as I look at my children, 2 and 4, and how they don't know a world that was once innocent. They have cartoons and children's shows that are teaching them how to prevent getting and giving the flu, they will never a know a world that didn't have some system for telling how scared we should be like the terror threat level color scheme. Yes, my kids will look at the world in a better way than I did in some respects- they won't see color differences as starkly as my generation- that is if we don't go back that way with the rhetoric we hear daily from politicians and pundits and armchair politicians- of all colors. Yes, my kids will have access to more and better medicines, they will be smarter than me sooner that I'd like with all the technological advances, and they will have opportunities to go and do things I didn't - not because my parents held me back, but because I never knew they existed.
I remember 8 years ago, schools tried to keep people from talking about the tragedy of 9-11- and being angry. Kids do not need to be sheltered from the fact this world is messed up, and sometimes really bad stuff goes down. They need to learn to process this, grow from this, and make every effort to make this a world this never happens again. When Leslie and Kenna see the images from that day, and ask, we tell them, as much as they can understand. I want them to grow up with a desire to spread love and peace and the message of Christ- which is love and peace- so that those motivated by hate and fear are not just silenced, but changed. Changed by a message of true hope.
In the days after 9-11, there was much talk of revival, and hope that God was raising us up. But that faded soon, and we let hate and unforgiveness creep in, and we called it patriotism to desire to see lost Muslims die horrifically. I am not saying I oppose the war- war is a 'necessary evil' of government, just as it was in the Old Testament- but we as followers of Christ must never rejoice in the death of a person going to Hell- no matter how evil they may be. In some ways, the desire that we be broken over the terrorists' eternal fate informed our hearts with our path toward the Gate- to show love, even to the unlovable. That is the message I want my kids to learn about what happened 8 years ago today.
But tonight, I got to thinking about what has happened these last eight years, personally and to the world at large. In the days that followed, there was fear, anger, hopelessness, and also resolve. Since that day, it seems that we as a country have grown more fearful, less trusting. We are as a nation more divided than we have been in my lifetime. Fear of what the next big tragedy is looms in the air-will swine flu get us? Or biological warfare? Or will we all be on a breadline- or forced into socialism or fascism, or some other -ism? And our fear and distrust have not made us better.
I wonder as I look at my children, 2 and 4, and how they don't know a world that was once innocent. They have cartoons and children's shows that are teaching them how to prevent getting and giving the flu, they will never a know a world that didn't have some system for telling how scared we should be like the terror threat level color scheme. Yes, my kids will look at the world in a better way than I did in some respects- they won't see color differences as starkly as my generation- that is if we don't go back that way with the rhetoric we hear daily from politicians and pundits and armchair politicians- of all colors. Yes, my kids will have access to more and better medicines, they will be smarter than me sooner that I'd like with all the technological advances, and they will have opportunities to go and do things I didn't - not because my parents held me back, but because I never knew they existed.
I remember 8 years ago, schools tried to keep people from talking about the tragedy of 9-11- and being angry. Kids do not need to be sheltered from the fact this world is messed up, and sometimes really bad stuff goes down. They need to learn to process this, grow from this, and make every effort to make this a world this never happens again. When Leslie and Kenna see the images from that day, and ask, we tell them, as much as they can understand. I want them to grow up with a desire to spread love and peace and the message of Christ- which is love and peace- so that those motivated by hate and fear are not just silenced, but changed. Changed by a message of true hope.
In the days after 9-11, there was much talk of revival, and hope that God was raising us up. But that faded soon, and we let hate and unforgiveness creep in, and we called it patriotism to desire to see lost Muslims die horrifically. I am not saying I oppose the war- war is a 'necessary evil' of government, just as it was in the Old Testament- but we as followers of Christ must never rejoice in the death of a person going to Hell- no matter how evil they may be. In some ways, the desire that we be broken over the terrorists' eternal fate informed our hearts with our path toward the Gate- to show love, even to the unlovable. That is the message I want my kids to learn about what happened 8 years ago today.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Fog
So this morning, Leslie woke me up at 4:19 and was too scared to sleep. So I went into her room to hopefully lay there with her for a bit so she could sleep. But she didn't. In fact, when I did fall asleep, she woke me up to ask if it was time to get up. So I have spent the day in a slight fog of sleepiness fought off only by lots of Dr. Pepper.
Most of my foggy days are due to Benadryl the night before, and the fact that medicines mess me up when it comes to coherency. I just sort of sleep walk through the day.
When I got to thinking about it today, I realized that we all seem to get to a point where life itself seems a constant fog. We shuffle through our days, mumbling stuff, bumping into things and people, mindlessly performing the scheduled tasks. Our fog may be a fog of apathy, fear, resignation, anger, pain, boredom, disappointment, or sense of failure. But we all seem to be in a fog, headed into one, or escaping one.
In a little over a week, the Gate begins a series basically about beginnings and the identity we develop in young adulthood. It's making me think about that time in my life, when I was full of hope and optimism (older people called me naive). I saw problems as challenges to over come, and went after them, not giving up, but looking to a new line of attack when things fell apart.
Somewhere in my past, that changed.
The older or more experienced people's advice that "You just can't change that," or "Thats too much to take on" began to collect in the air around me. Then, the weariness of fighting sets in, and then the 'responsibilities of adulthood,' then the idea that those people were right- all these collected into a fog.
The fog is finally lifting for me- the result of starting to dream again, to hope, to expect big things. Maybe its being around college students, who still have these in abundance, or maybe its just starting to trust God to be who He says he is, once again. Whatever it is, it makes me want to challenge the Gate, and you reading this, to press on. Keep dreaming big, keep trying to change the unchangeable, reach the unreachable. And those folks who try to talk you down, kick them in the teeth and keep going. (Not literally, though there are times....)
The Gate is about dreams. Its about a dream to reach young adults and college students for Christ. A dream that this generation can and will restore the passion of the Body of Christ. A dream that students can BE the church, not just a part of it. Its also a dream that God will show up in our community, change it, and set free His Spirit upon us all. We're are seeing these things happen, and new dreams are being born as we speak. Not just dreams we have for the church, but dreams the individuals that make up the church are having.
So, put down the Benadryl, grab your DP (or caffeine of choice) and let's wake up. Things are about to get interesting.
Most of my foggy days are due to Benadryl the night before, and the fact that medicines mess me up when it comes to coherency. I just sort of sleep walk through the day.
When I got to thinking about it today, I realized that we all seem to get to a point where life itself seems a constant fog. We shuffle through our days, mumbling stuff, bumping into things and people, mindlessly performing the scheduled tasks. Our fog may be a fog of apathy, fear, resignation, anger, pain, boredom, disappointment, or sense of failure. But we all seem to be in a fog, headed into one, or escaping one.
In a little over a week, the Gate begins a series basically about beginnings and the identity we develop in young adulthood. It's making me think about that time in my life, when I was full of hope and optimism (older people called me naive). I saw problems as challenges to over come, and went after them, not giving up, but looking to a new line of attack when things fell apart.
Somewhere in my past, that changed.
The older or more experienced people's advice that "You just can't change that," or "Thats too much to take on" began to collect in the air around me. Then, the weariness of fighting sets in, and then the 'responsibilities of adulthood,' then the idea that those people were right- all these collected into a fog.
The fog is finally lifting for me- the result of starting to dream again, to hope, to expect big things. Maybe its being around college students, who still have these in abundance, or maybe its just starting to trust God to be who He says he is, once again. Whatever it is, it makes me want to challenge the Gate, and you reading this, to press on. Keep dreaming big, keep trying to change the unchangeable, reach the unreachable. And those folks who try to talk you down, kick them in the teeth and keep going. (Not literally, though there are times....)
The Gate is about dreams. Its about a dream to reach young adults and college students for Christ. A dream that this generation can and will restore the passion of the Body of Christ. A dream that students can BE the church, not just a part of it. Its also a dream that God will show up in our community, change it, and set free His Spirit upon us all. We're are seeing these things happen, and new dreams are being born as we speak. Not just dreams we have for the church, but dreams the individuals that make up the church are having.
So, put down the Benadryl, grab your DP (or caffeine of choice) and let's wake up. Things are about to get interesting.
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