Talking in Circles

I'm sitting here looking through some notes I took while traveling this weekend, trying to decide how to shape this blog to speak to my little sphere of influence. "Socio-economic differences at SMU," "Philippians 4:13," and "Commercialization of Christmas" are my top three notes.  What a reflection those little notes are of where my mind wanders when I'm afforded the opportunity to just be silent.  I could store up those notes for future blog posts but...

On socio-economic differences at SMU:

• I can't even begin to say I know what it's like to be #blackatSMU, but I might approach the controversy from a different angle.  We need to be mindful of what the roots of social differences are at my alma mater: socio-economic background.
• While I generally felt welcomed by my small group of friends, I never felt like I fit in or was part of the group who "belonged" at SMU, and while I'm thankful for every opportunity I had in Dallas, I'm not so sure I ever really felt proud to attend (there goes all alumni support I might ever need).  It's a complicated issue for me because I think I personally tried to resist the SMU stereotype, while at the same time tried to fit into the culture in some pretty ridiculous ways.  Either way, the conversation's worth having and I'm up for it if you feel so inclined.

On Philippians 4:13

• I have to resist the incredibly obnoxious Facebook rant for this one and just wrap it up in an equally obnoxious blog.  In short, Philippians 4:13 cannot stand on its own unless you understand it in context and light of verse 12: "For in all things, I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound.  In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need."
• In our do-it-yourself, come-from-nothing society, we're fixed on setting our minds to whatever the hell we want to do and refuse to acknowledge God isn't a genie who grants our wishes and helps us achieve our goals if we pray enough, go to church enough, and do enough good things.  Philippians 4:13 is about being joyful, rejoicing in salvation, in light of our own shortcomings, life's failures, and circumstances far out of our control.  

On the commercialization of Christmas:

• Spending Christmas away from home for the first time was tough, but certainly more enjoyable with some faithful friends.  Being away from the icicle light-laden, blow-up snowman clad, Christmas-tree-in-every-room decorations and the glitz, glitter, and cheapness that Christmas has become in the States was incredibly refreshing.
• I can't say I don't love the season of Christmas and the warmth it brings, but we run the risk of forgetting our joy for the sake of a month of constructed happiness.  By being removed from the distractions (and that even includes family), I reflected on what this time of year calls for us to remember, outside of carols, lights, and (let's call it what it is) routine candlelight services.  I'm not sure what the answer is, but I just pray as we enter into the holiday season, we'll first remember the reason, the joy of our salvation, then subsequently decorate and sing in celebration, rather than vice versa.  

Now, tonight my heart rests on my sphere of influence: y'all (you guys, for those east of the Mississippi).  I spent my trip home from Kyoto planning my non-profit, scheming with Ivy and Maggie about how exactly I will change the world.  It's easy to create these elaborate, fantastic, idealistic plans to save an entire population from *insert social injustice here*.  Now, before you read too far ahead, don't think I'm discouraged from or discouraging you from thinking big in plans for service.  I am, however, encouraging you to seek to know yourself, your strengths, and be intimately aware of the people who have crossed your path.  I genuinely believe I can influence, but to what capacity, now that continues to change and grow as I discover what exactly I'm tailored to do. 

Do I plan on backing down from my plans? Absolutely not.  However, I think it'd be foolish of me to blazingly charge into the fight without time spent in prayer, reflection, and analysis of what my sphere of influence will be.  We can't depend on change to happen from the top down.  No one understands your struggle, your family's struggle, your community's struggle, like you do.  Believe in the gifts and talents you bring to the table.  If it's one person or an entire culture, be the influence.  Understand what breaks your heart and affect the change, however small it may be. 

Live for the hope.  Strive for the good.  Love y'all.

Good Dirt

Before I get all philosophical, I'll catch y'all up with where I am.  In the past 6 months, I've experienced all the highs and lows of being a platoon commander.  I have the privilege of caring for and being mentored by some of the funniest, most interesting, most dynamic people I'm sure I'll ever meet.  We've seen the disappointment of alcohol-related incidents and the pride of awards and recognition for outstanding achievement.  I've been to South Korea, Tokyo, and Osaka, and I'm getting ready to head up a detachment going to Darwin, Australia for six months.  Thanks to each of you who has prayed and sent good vibes in my direction! Now, back to your not-so-regularly scheduled blog:

I can't credit myself with these profound words, but they're profound nonetheless:

You aren't the gardener who tends and tills and causes things to grow.  You aren't the reason there is new life and you aren't responsible for affecting the newness of change.  All you have to be is good dirt; be good, fertile soil where the roots have a chance to take hold and bloom.

I probably speak for many of you when I say I've heaped an unbearable weight on my shoulders, and now that I'm smack dab in the middle of a uniquely challenging season of life, that extra weight is especially burdensome.  As I continue to try to work myself out of this ebbed season of life, I make myself more exhausted, become more self-centered, and avert my focus from ensuring I'm good dirt where the Lord can do his work.

Men wiser than me echo everything I have said or will say, but in this time and in this era, we cannot forget that we are not the Gardener.  We are not the Shepherd.  To entrust ourselves with that much power and that much responsibility is unrealistic, exhausting, and disastrous.  What a relief it is to know it's not my responsibility to affect change in the lives around me.  All I have to be is good dirt.

I don't have to work toward salvation, I just have to be good dirt.

I don't have to do my own tilling, pruning, or planting, I just have to be good dirt.

Each slip-up, each triumph, each hard lesson, justifies the grace of the cross.  He came "not to call the righteous, but sinners" (Mark 2:17).  The cross is where the weight of our disobedience and the heaviness of our burden are so gracefully and unselfishly placed upon our Savior's shoulders.  The cross is not for the perfect and certainly not for the righteous. The cross is for the sinner in desperate need of the life-changing grace of Christ's sacrifice.

Friends, whether you're like me and beat yourself up for falling short of the unrealistic expectation of perfection or you're indifferent about sin, our God is not one who relies on you to do his work.  Regardless of the season, regardless of your talents, and regardless of where you find your center, He will complete his work and good will always win.  We are so deeply loved by a Father who is utterly unshakeable.

Never lose heart, y'all.  Just be good dirt.  

Wobble, Baby

Suicide Cliff, near Naha

Konnichi wa! I made it to the island, and what a warm welcome it's been. God has marvelously shown his beauty here through the kindest, warmest people I've ever met and incredible scenery surrounding me in every direction.


The food, people, scenes, customs...are all incredible and affirm my choice to come to Oki. It smells, feels, looks, and acts differently than America and it's so cool to see how a different society functions.  As cool as the United States is, I understand the wanderlust mentality and the beauty that is experiencing cultures different from my own.

Not quite the desert flowers from The Land of Enchantment

Now, I didn't at all expect to be handed a uniquely challenging set of cards as soon as I got on island, but last Thursday while playing rugby, I fractured my fibula and perhaps tore a tendon in my lower leg.  I'll have surgery on the leg next Friday to install some plates and screws in the bone and potentially repair that tendon, should it in fact be torn.  Crutches for at least six weeks, shouldn't expect to be out of a boot for twelve.  These past few days have been a mix of all kinds of emotions and conversations, frustrations and speculation, but I'm finally at a place of determination and action.   
I could be totally unrealistic and say I'm not upset at all and I'm sure God has something great coming for me. When Doc told me I might be out 12 weeks, anger and bitterness were probably written all over my face. How could this happen to me? I take such good care of myself. I'm always the one going out of her way to make sure she's physically ready. Why me? Why now? I wanted to grab up my crutches, tell Doc I'd be fine, and get back to work.  I'm indestructible, the bone will heal, and that tendon will just have to be a little bit loose from now on.

Reality quickly set in and I realized I have a challenge ahead of me, and that challenge is no different than any other one I've taken on voluntarily.  It's time to show whether or not I really can handle adversity and make it a good thing.  Do I understand why I broke my fibula? No, of course I don't.  Am I frustrated? Of course I am. However, that does not illicit self-pity or discouragement because, "convinced of [God's ability to use me] I know that I will remain and continue with you all, for your progress and joy in the faith." (Philippians 1:25) and "...we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces character, and character produce hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." (Romans 5:3-4).

At the end of the day, we all have jobs to do, both for the world and for our great God.  I have no idea what's next, but I know it is good and there's no reason to hang my head.  Even on crutches, I can and will contribute.  So friends, I think it's time to get my cast signed, block up the clutch on my car, and cut up my upper body, because there's work to be done and I want to be part of it.  I know so many of you may find yourselves in a place of discouragement, but take heart, friends, because we serve a loving God who does not cause us the pain we experience, but wants to graciously bring us out of that hurt and into the goodness of a life lived with Him.  In the meantime, enjoy this guy and enjoy the heck out of your week.

Don't worry guys, I'll be back at it in no time.

    

At the Edge

Well guys, it's finally here.  I'm 12 hours from flying away from American soil for two years.  Anxious? Absolutely.  Scared? Not at all.  I've been at the edge of so many things for so long and it's finally time to step off for something better.

Before Mags and I left NM, I had the chance to say some goodbyes and hug some necks I haven't seen in way too long. I was overwhelmed with the outpouring of love and support from friends, family and neighbors I've known all my life and some acquaintances I met just once.  There's no replacement for my small hometown and I can't imagine being able to do what I do without so many people in my corner.  As an aside, thank you to those who have prayed for, written to, called, texted, and thought about me.  I am so confident in God's work, provision, and intention for me and I can't wait to see the good that comes from it.  There aren't enough words to show my thanks, but I hope each of you know how much you are loved and cherished, and I pray you be bold enough to go where God may call you.

So now, back to finally jumping off that ledge.  For the past year, I've been on the edge of being a fleet Marine.  I've been on the edge of going where God would have me.  I've been on the edge of leaving a comfortable life.  My toes are hanging off the ledge, there's a breeze at my back daring me to jump.  There's no way to know what's beyond the ledge and that is most exciting, because I can look upon this year and know that obedience brings more joy and fulfillment than I can possible try to force for myself.

Throughout the year I have been tempted, I've given in to temptation, things have broken my heart, events have been exceptionally joyful, I've been surrounded by familiar faces, and I've been lost in a sea of people I don't know.  Through all those things, both good and bad, I have found infinite comfort in the grace and love of Christ.  Every single time I fail and try to duck my head in shame, I am reminded that this great grace, this unconditional love, gives me no reason to hang my head and every reason to step out beyond myself.  More often than I'd like to admit, I've questioned where God has me, but over and over He has shown me a life impacted for the better and a joy that is absolutely unshakable.  He has directed my sight outward, relieving me of the weight I try to take on when I focus on myself.

This next step is so incredibly exciting because I go into it expecting God to do good things through me, even in my weakness.  There are so many people waiting to be blessed by a love bigger than we can comprehend and my hope is that we will be bold enough to pursue that love and those relationships, whether they're on the other side of the planet or in our own hometowns.  Whatever ledge it is you're scared to jump off of, will you just step out already?  Y'all, the blessings waiting for you are so good, it kills me to thing you might miss them.  Go boldly, go in peace, and I'll see you back stateside real soon!

      

Let Go My Soul

So tonight I uh, duked it out with God.

I drove to Charleston this weekend, knowing I needed some time to set my soul right.  I ate dinner my first night with total strangers in a random restaurant downtown, and I ended tonight with my hands in the air, crying and singing in a church full of brothers and sisters. It was one of those good cries--men, I know you don't get it--but it was so incredibly necessary.

Through those tears, I was saying, "It is well. It is well. It is well with me."

I've sung those lyrics so many times, but tonight it wasn't so well with me.  "God I don't want to do this. Why did I so blindly choose to go to Japan? I'm happy here. God please don't make me do this."  I surprised myself with my own rebellion.  Where did that come from?

Then I took the Communion bread. "Beloved I did this for you."

Father God, I have doubted your goodness. I've trusted my heart over your Word. 

"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose."  No wonder Romans 8:28 is my Mammaw's favorite verse.  Tonight, it's a reminder, not just that good things are in store, but that God is good and he is love and he intends good for me, just because I love him.

How can I doubt that Jesus, who went so far as to die so I might "have life and have it abundantly" (John 10:10), would not intend only the very best for me?  The same God who created the universe, who heals the brokenhearted, who sets the captives free, is in my corner.  He's intended so much good for me, so much joy, and so much life, yet I've tried to control and manipulate the outcome to fit how I think it should look.  

So tonight, it might mean Japan, the Middle East, Camp Lejeune, or sitting on the back of a horse in New Mexico.  It might mean friendships, parting of ways, triumphs, and failures.  Tonight it might mean abundance, it might mean poverty, it might mean death, but surely He will always lead to life and I will say it is well. It is well. It is well with me.

   


   

    

All Day, Err-day

    Ever had one of those moments when you know God's right there with you?  You're absolutely overwhelmed by his presence and may be driven to raise your hands, sing, or, dare I say, cry?  You realize the things you've been worried about are already taken care of?  For me, this moment tends to creep up on me during worship at church. When I lived in Dallas, that moment hit me every Sunday at The Village.  I walked into church knowing the Holy Spirit was going to move in me and I left every week wiping the tears from my cheeks.

Lately, though, I've been shaking my fists at God, asking Him why in the heck he's not making me cry during worship.  Why Lord? Why aren't you making me feel like I should fall to my knees and cry my eyes out?  Why am I not crying my makeup off and walking out of church looking like a complete nutcase?  Week after week, I've walked away from worship frustrated God wasn't moving like I thought He should be.

Then, Friday night happened.  I started reading Steven Furtick's Greater and let's just say things the Lord has been trying to show me for a long time came to fruition in a tangible, fall-to-your-knees-and-cry-your-makeup-off kind of way.

How much time had I wasted worrying about why my time in worship wasn't "doing it" for me?  Over the past few months, as I prayed about my struggles, I thought about advice pointing me toward verses like James 1:2 (Count it in all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds). Therefore I thought, "The answer is worship.  I just need to turn on my feel-good music and listen or sing along.  That'll fix everything."  If we're being completely honest, most feel-good Christian music is pretty bad and it doesn't do much for me because, well, it's Pop radio with a greater message.     

 How selfish of it was me to think that worship was for me?  What about all those people who've never felt the Holy Spirit move like that?  Would it have been too much for me to pray for someone else to receive that blessing? I've been so self-centered to use worship as a tool for myself. Gimme, gimme, gimme, Lord!    

As I sat in the floor of my living room, I understood what it means for God to meet us where we are.  I had trapped myself in the tunnel vision of church worship.  I was convinced church was the place where I was closest to the Lord.  However, God has been trying to get it through my thick head that if I'm open-minded enough to realize His work in every aspect of my life, that closeness happens a whole lot more often than once a week for fifteen minutes.  What's even cooler is realizing I can worship Him without music at all.  Worship is setting aside time to dive into the Word.  Worship can be a conversation.  Worship can be a success at work.  Worship can be a moment of vulnerability, face down in your living room floor.

There have been a few moments when I thought my miserable life was so depressing there was no real reason to worship at all.  Luckily, worship isn't about praising God for the hell life can be, but praising Him for already getting us through those times and saving a spot for us in His Kingdom:

'Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably, with reverence and awe, for our "God is a consuming fire."
      -Hebrews 12:28-29

Not only is there so much better in store for us, but God's love consumes every aspect of our lives.  He's desires to control every aspect of our lives to shape us for good, not only for others, but for ourselves. If you ask me, that's a reason to worship...even outside the church walls.  

Leg Up

We'd spent 5 months together, we'd grown close, we'd fought, and we'd learned what the future might hold for each of us. The interns at Athletes Performance had grown to know each others desires in life as well as the things that sent us into a rage.  Then, one afternoon, Roy asked us the question, "Who is one person you believe to be successful," and I think each of the interns knew there was something wrong with my answer.

I was first up, and I regretted it as soon as it came out of my mouth, "Bill Gates."

In my mind, I was thinking, "Bill Gates.  He's made a fortune, but not necessarily for himself.  He gives, and he had to struggle to get to where he is. So yeah, that's why most people say Bill Gates is successful, right?"

However true that may be, it's a terrible reason to justify giving an answer that's not my own, but society's.  When I think about what success looks like to me, it certainly isn't Bill Gates.  However, because that was my answer, I was forced to step back and reassess where my heart and my intentions are in relation to the things I do and the ways in which I strive toward what I think is success.  Am I aiming for recognition? Money? Friends?  Or, am I striving toward serving others so they may know a life filled with hope?  What has stricken me in working with and meeting people in my long 23 years of life is that so many have given up on hope for their life, their families, or their careers.  Success, to me, means helping others understand that hope can be restored, no matter how far south we think our lives have gone.

Roy asked us that question in May and it took losing someone incredibly dear to me last week to finally form that picture of success in my own mind.  Louis "Louie" Canelakes became somewhat of a dad to me while I was in Dallas. I stumbled upon a hostessing position for his bar on the weekends and kept the job for three years.  Louie's was the place that oftentimes reminded me Dallas wasn't so bad and I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself.  Everyone there welcomed me as one of their own.  I celebrated birthdays, went on dates, and watched a multitude of Ranger games with my family at Louie's.  Every week, no matter how busy he was, Louie made sure to stop, ask how I was, and give me a brief lesson in Greek history.  He dropped what he was doing when someone sketchy was trying to hit on me, but we always had a lighthearted laugh about it after the fact.  He cared for his dive bar and his family there with a genuine heart, week after week.  Even though Louie's is popular, Louie refused to allow his bar to become a money-hungry, run-of-the-mill, cookie cutter establishment.  He was true to himself, true to his family, and never wavered from his convictions.

Louie took the time to get to know people and believed in their causes, even if it countered his own.  Louie embodied what so many of us lack: faith.  Not only did Louie have faith in those around him, he had faith in himself and what he knew he was put on earth to do.  When everyone told him he needed to grow or bring in more money, Louie kept his foot down.  That's not who he was and that's not how he would be successful.  It would have been easy for Louie to search and hire big-name business managers, chefs, and staff who would have promoted his name.  However, he had faith in the people and family he brought into Louie's, because he knew as well as anyone they had faith in him. He welcomed big-name customers as well as families living from paycheck to paycheck.  When he heard criticism and was told what he was doing was sub-par, his faith in his cause overrode that negativity. 

Louie's cause wasn't for money, it wasn't for recognition, it wasn't to gain a hold in the Dallas social scene. Louie wanted to make a place where everyone from every corner of Dallas could meet on an even playing field.  He couldn't care less how much money you had or didn't have, he was going to serve you and if you found a place at the bar and wanted to talk, he wanted to listen.  Louie lived outside himself, which is apparent in the memories he established within those who knew him. 

Don't get me wrong, success manifests itself in various ways, because we all have different purposes.  There's nothing wrong with making a lot of money.  It's okay for people to know your name.  It's even alright if your success puts you in a position of authority.  However, when we have those things, those titles, and that recognition for our own gain without regard to others, that is failure.  Success doesn't mean being able to do whatever you want, but rather giving up some pleasures or niceties in order to have the opportunity to uplift and better others.  Yeah, success is sacrifice, but its done in faith, which reaps a blessing, not only for the successful one, but for those he serves.

We can't take our money, our friends, or our possessions with us when we leave, but we can take our souls.  If those souls are filled with kindness, service, faith, and selflessness, Heaven will be filled with a whole lot of love, and that sounds like a great place to be.  Lou, thanks for having faith in yourself, and thanks for having faith in me.  I thought and still think you're crazy every time you said I was going to be a governor, but I know without a doubt you had faith in my future and that means the world to me.  And Roy, I have a different answer now, and it's not Bill Gates.