A Word.

I’m forcing myself to write this.  It is only by sitting down, setting the computer in front of me, and typing that anything is going to appear on the screen and have a chance of appearing on multiple screens, in multiple places, becoming a moment in multiple lives.

A word…strung out one after another…creating and articulating thoughts, expressions, and ideas.  Words…a plurality of word that can reach across and connect two people in conversation.  Those two can connect to two more, and on and on.

Where am I going with this…here’s where I am going.  I want to create some type of community, a historical community in many respects that would not only discuss history, but that would endeavor to explore the idea of history in individuals’ lives.  How is an individual actually LIVING history daily?  What does it mean to live in relation to the history that has come before?  How might we even pay homage to past traditions in our daily lives?

There is a clear disconnect that is emerging today, specifically among the younger generation, between history and the individual.  History is something dry, old, dead.  It has no life except what is given to it by the pages of a textbook.  But this is not the history I know.  History is a collection of lives…lives filled with the same heartache, passions, depressions, moments of genius, and moments of humor that exist in our own lives.  They were as we are.  In many cases, their lives were lived very differently…without many of the comforts and luxuries that we know.  That does not make them better, nor does it make us somehow superior.  Perhaps we are superior in that we have advanced technologically…but when it comes to human character, what has changed really?  We still kill, steal, make war, spend money, have sex.  Our drives and motivations have remained constant.

My argument is this.  We need to understand these people and those times, if only to gain insight into why we are who we are today.  We need to know about the ordinary people who made a difference in their time, to push us forward and give us the confidence that despite our condition, we can make a difference too.  We need to read about past conflicts with foreign lands, to help us make wiser and more knowledgeable judgments about politics.  We must study ideas that are so completely different from our own, so that even when we disagree strongly with them, both then and in the present, we can have a perspective that understands both sides and is reasonable.

There is a radio show called This American Life.  It is arguably one of the best programs on radio today.  Its aim is to tell the stories of ordinary people on a variety of topics or themes, with a different theme each week.  The stories are human, they are real, and in many cases they will touch you in some way.  This is how I’m beginning to see history…the stories of lives, stacked up one after another.  Each life touching multiple lives.  We need to hear these stories…they are far too exciting and meaningful to collect dust on a textbook page.

Life Flashes By.

There are moments, and hopefully they are few, when life itself flashes before your eyes.  In a split second, your entire body is tensed with a rush of fear and adrenaline, preparing to survive at all costs.  An immediate danger has entered into the present circumstance, and you have to meet it, ready or not.  Such a danger presented itself to me this past Saturday night.

I was returning home from Santa Barbara after an incredibly enjoyable visit, seeing a production of The Christmas Carol and having drinks with a few friends afterwards.  It just so happened that there was quite a bit of rain that was passing through Southern California on Saturday, and I had the wonderful privilege of driving in it.  Huge droplets of rain pelted the windshield, the wipers furiously waving them away with their swift motions.  I firmly held onto the wheel with both hands, aware from the start of the journey that I would need to pay especially close attention to the road.

I passed through Carpinteria, on the way out of the vicinity of Santa Barbara and towards Ventura.  This is about when it all went wrong.

I turned the music off to concentrate.  A few minutes later, I hit a patch of water and the car immediately began spinning like a top.  It completed a full 360 degree spin before crashing into the center median, which was thankfully made up of only grass, thick brush, and mud.  As the car came to a stop…I sat there for what seemed to be several long seconds, completely in shock at what had just occurred.  I quickly took a self-assessment, making sure I wasn’t injured.  Fortunately I wasn’t.

I immediately called my dad, telling him what had happened and trying to figure out where I was.  He contacted AAA and we began the process of arranging for a tow truck to come.  I had tried getting out of the spot I crashed in, only to hear the wheels spin.  A tow truck would be necessary.  As I stayed on the phone with AAA, the fire dept. arrived in a large engine, along with a smaller truck.  A firefighter exited and I handed him the phone, to give AAA the exact area where I had crashed.  He was able to tell AAA where I was exactly, and helpfully laid some flares down on the road.  They then took off, saying that they would probably be getting more calls.  No doubt.

I waited about 30 minutes for the tow truck to come.  It arrived, and the tow truck guy named Jacques begin to hook up my car.  He was an extremely friendly and overall nice guy, and I’m certainly indebted to him for all his help.  After pulling the car off the hill, I was able to see the damage.  A side panel that ran along the bottom edge of the car from the front to rear tires had come off, but was still in one piece.  One tire was flat, with another slowly leaking.  Other than that, my car had survived…albeit covered in brush and mud.

Upon getting home, I hugged my parents for the longest time.  I was so deeply thankful to God for being alive, that He had indeed protected me.  I began to think about what would have happened had my car flown in the other direction.  To the right.  I would have hit the guardrail, after which lies only railroad tracks and ocean.  I would have been seriously injured if not dead.

I know with certainty that my family’s prayers of protection during my trip to and from Santa Barbara were answered that night.  I’m so thankful that I will be able to spend this Christmas with my family, that I will be able to see all of my friends again.  We don’t realize how delicate and precious life is until something like this happens.  It is unfortunate that this is the case, because we so often believe that we will be around forever, or at least until we are old.  We must make sure that the days we do have are spent fruitfully.  After seeing my own life flash by, I want to make these days count.

So This Is Christmas…

Christmas is an interesting time of year for me.  It has always been a holiday filled with a lot of sentimental value, from all of the past memories of happy Christmases growing up in Illinois.  Each of those was filled with good times spent with family, red cardinals on white snow which blanketed the ground without fail every season, gifts exchanged, and the wonderful love that was shared through baked foods, hugs, and simply the close presence of a family member.

I remember how excited I would get each and every Christmas morning, waking up before anyone else in the house, jumping out of bed, and running into the living room where gifts of every size, shape, and color had been laid delicately underneath the tree.  I would pick up gifts, hold them, run my fingers along the edges to somehow figure the dimensions of what might possibly be underneath.  I would get as close as possible to those gifts without violating them by tearing the paper open.  The wait for the remaining family members in the house to wake from their slumber was pure agony for a young child.

Thankfully, I knew from a fairly young age what the true message of Christmas was.  While Santa Claus and presents under the tree were acceptable myths within our home, there was always the underlying foundation of what this holiday was about.  God, the same God who had formed the universe, decided to take the form of a man and came to earth as a child in a lowly manger to the most unsuspecting of parents.  He lowered himself, His Spirit birthing a miracle within Mary’s body, and Incarnation happened.  An Incarnation for the purpose of an ultimate sacrifice that would come later.  Unfortunately, however, this was never my source of excitement on Christmas morning.

Think about it.  The God who created ALL THINGS, including your very being, decided to come down to YOUR level and give His life for you.  Not just for all of humanity, but for you as an individual.  Sometimes I just have to stop and think about that.  How could He love ME that much?  It is nearly unfathomable.

It isn’t until now, several years later, that the idea and message of Christmas has transformed from simply being head knowledge to something much more tangible.  The gifts no longer excite me.  The giving, however, does.  In church this morning, Francis Chan shared with us that the average amount spent on Christmas Day alone in most American households is around $820.  This is just on Christmas day, with the decorations, presents, and everything else.  Those out in the world living on less than $2 a day would not make that amount in an entire year.  This isn’t meant as a guilt trip, it’s just a simple point of fact.  Francis also shared with us about those Christian missionaries in India right now who are suffering for the Gospel, some being tied up to trees and tortured for days before being killed.  I had never even heard about this, in my own ignorance.  These are the ones living out their faith each and every day.

This clearly gives me much to think about as we enter another Christmas season.  It is so easy to get caught up in the hectic nature of the holidays, rushing around from one party to the next, buying gifts for loved ones.  I’m sure it will happen to me, in some degree.  But can we quiet ourselves this Christmas, and reflect on the image of God becoming flesh for our sake?  Can we reflect on it so much that we ask God for wisdom in how we might sacrifice some part of our comfort for the sake of those who are less fortunate?  After hearing about those missionaries in India today, I immediately felt like I had to give something to them.  Not out of guilt, but love.  They are the true saints who are standing strong despite the fires of persecution.

Please pray for those missionaries who are suffering for the name of Jesus.

Limbs Pointed Toward Heaven

I had the pleasure of visiting Sequoia National Park with family this past Thanksgiving weekend.  Despite the frigid temperatures of around 35 degrees F, it was an enormously enjoyable trip.
We spent a couple of hours walking around the paths of the park, meandering our way towards the barky behemoth that ultimately stole the show, General Sherman.  Just to give you some facts on this limbed monstrosity, Sherman is roughly 2200 years old, 275 ft in height, with a base volume of 52,508 cu. ft.  It is the largest tree as far as mass in the world.  This was the first time that I, a 6 foot 5 male, felt intimidated by a tree.  When standing in the shadow of such a natural wonder, you cannot help but be in awe of this amazing creation.

The forest was filled with many sequoias, all much smaller than Sherman but gigantic nonetheless.  The thinner but taller redwoods shot up all around us, their peaks pointing heavenward as if to indicate their source of creation.  We wandered through this camouflaged wilderness, mouths frequently agape at the beauty that each tree, bit of moss, and pine cone exhibited.  I shivered, zipping up my leather jacket and stuffing my hands quickly into my pockets for warmth….realizing at the same time that this was all worth any temporary discomfort from the cold.  As my neck strained to look upward and catch a glimpse of the tallest branches of one particular redwood, I began to think about the meticulous and majestic creativity of the Creator.  These trees were true tabernacles, temples with spires that reached above many cathedrals.  No hand of man had designed this.  No stone, brick, or mortar had constructed this infinitely tall tower.  Only the hand of God could create something so marvelous.

I stood there for many minutes, feeling completely insignificant.  These trees were bigger than me, but God was infinitely bigger than them…yes, even bigger than General Sherman.  How could I marvel at these collections of wood without worshiping God?

I began to wish, and wish deeply within my soul, that more of us humans could find these times of going out into the wilderness, seeing the creation of God, and feeling insignificant.  We are so “significant” in our own minds, when we are within our own spheres of influence, going to work and coming home, being comfortable.  We have our friends and our family who love us and tell us we’re great…and I’m not saying that’s bad.  But it pales in comparison to God and what He has done…and these “staring at trees” moments are what we need to awaken us.

I used to not get nature.  The fascination with it, the idea of camping and hiking and exploring unfamiliar terrain.  But I think I finally get it now.  As more buildings get built, as more cell phone towers go up and more skyscrapers try to imitate the redwood, as we talk on phones and watch the advertisements on TV, as we hear politicians yell at each other over nothing, as we drive our cars and earn our money and buy our things….I realize that creation is our refuge.  I hope we never take it for granted.

Here I Am.

I’ve moved from Blogger to here.  This looks like a nice place.

Zooming In, Zooming Out

Listening right now to U2’s song Your Blue Room. Feel free to hit play on the right side there to set the appropriate atmosphere as you read.

Well, here I am…again.

I sometimes find it interesting that I’m able to communicate thoughts and ideas so much better at times using the written word rather than discussing the very same thing with a person face to face. Perhaps it is because I’m always striving to find that perfect word, that turn of phrase that will guarantee that the principle I’m attempting to articulate will make sense. Unfortunately, when you’re talking to another human being you’re somewhat limited in the amount of time to choose words.

Don’t you wish, though, that more people took the time to choose their words? Is it necessary to respond immediately? How long would it really take to formulate an appropriate and respectful answer?

My faith has been renewed as of late…once again I’m opening the Scriptures and finding such a deep closeness to God. It is truly amazing how a change of focus can change your entire life outlook dramatically. The future is still a foreboding thing in many ways, and yet it doesn’t have to be. There is no need to fear at all, really.

I’ve been thinking a lot about living lately. I don’t know about you, reader…but I can’t stand the idea of getting a 9-5 job, starting a family, and settling down for the next 50 or so years. I have nothing against these things, in essence…but it seems to be that so many in America these days are living to work rather than working to live, their lives dominated by their paychecks, in an ever increasing desire to make money. God becomes one of many things that fits onto their “to do” list, an obligation rather than a deep relationship. Those less well off or suffering are ignored, and we all go on with our happy little private lives, taking care of us and our own.

I don’t want this.

Novels, Francis Chan, and the Holy Spirit

I have been neglectful. I apologize for this.

I am participating in National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo for short. Essentially, you write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November for absolutely no prize other than a certificate saying that you completed it. The idea is that by setting a very real goal/limitation that you have to meet by the end of November, it should urge you towards writing and writing quickly. So far, I have around 1600 words, and I honestly have no idea if I’ll make it the full month. It is brute force writing at its best. Should be fun.

I’ve started attending Cornerstone Church, and the pastor there is a guy by the name of Francis Chan. He is a dynamic speaker to say the least. He presents the Word of God in such a straightforward and convicting manner…each message I’ve heard from him has challenged me in some way. I’ve even started listening to podcasts of his past sermons, and it has been amazing for me personally. I have been highly neglectful of my time spent with the Lord, and I’ve always tried to excuse it by telling myself that I’ve been too busy to read Scripture, to pray, all of these things. I can’t excuse myself though…and I’m so thankful that I’ve began to open the Word and to read. Philippians in particular has been such a blessing to me…hearing Paul rejoice in the midst of prison, thankful that his imprisonment is bringing others to Christ. We need to take heed of men like Paul and realize, as Francis says, that these men are not men far removed from us in faith. We are just as capable of their level of faith as anyone. We must simply spend time in God’s Word, in conversation with God, in prayer, in worship…by knowing God better, we will come to a better understanding of what His Spirit, working through us, is capable of.

“But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ — the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.” (Philippians 3:7-11 NIV)

Fanatic.

I’m pretty much a fanatic when it comes to the band U2. I’ve loved them with a passion ever since I heard the opening guitar notes of Pride (In The Name of Love) back around 1999. I’ve already told the story of my love affair with U2 in a previous blog, so I won’t repeat that. But I had to bring them up, because of the upcoming concert I’m attending at the Rose Bowl. The concert is going to be streamed live on YouTube, so if you’re reading this and want to see it you just need to go to U2’s official page on YouTube Sunday night around 830pm PST. The show will also be archived there, so anyone will be able to see it even after the show has ended. The concert is being recorded for a future DVD to top it all off. Needless to say, I’m excited.

I’m never sure how to explain the “U2 experience” to someone who hasn’t seen them live before…because you almost just have to be there. There’s almost an electricity in the air at a U2 concert…the band has some kind of really unique connection with the audience. Of the 3 shows I’ve been to, I’ve experienced the same feeling walking away from it. No matter if you’re near to or far from the stage, the music brings you close to the band and to everyone else in that stadium or arena. I can practically bet that even the most ardent U2-haters, upon attending a U2 show, will be forced to admit that it was indeed a remarkable experience.

U2 is a spiritual band, though they rarely like to make mention of this in public…all for good reasons. Anyone who looks at their music or lyrics immediately can see the heavy Scriptural overtones. There are many who lambast Bono for his egotism and self-righteous behavior…but if you listen, the man is truly sincere in his beliefs. What he does isn’t simply for image, it’s because the issues are THAT important.

U2’s music has deep meaning for me, and it has been with me through life. Long drives, rainy nights, New Years Days, and sad times. When I listen to songs like Where The Streets Have No Name, I see the morning dawn…the sunlight and the promise of a new day and new beginnings. When Sunday Bloody Sunday comes on, I think of innocent lives lost in war…and wonder how long must we sing THAT song. During the strains of One I consider individuals and humanity at large…that there is indeed more that should unite us than divide us, that it is our duty to help and to serve one another. The chords of All I Want Is You remind me of romantic love and the deep joy of relationship with another.

Memories tied to remarkable music…what a gift.

Life As A Story

I was going to write about my trip to San Francisco last weekend, but I don’t think I can really find all the words to describe the experience. So instead of talking about that, I will use the trip as an illustration for something else.

I’m finishing an excellent book right now. It’s called A Million Miles In A Thousand Years, and it’s written by one of my favorite authors, Donald Miller. The premise of the book is rather hard to explain. Simply put though, he relates life to a narrative or story as he describes the process in which he had to translate his own life into a screenplay for a movie. He argues that life, like a story, can be either a good “story” or a bad one. We can choose what kind of story our life is going to be by determining how we use the days we’ve been given. At the same time, as a Christian, our story is somehow part of a larger Story, going back to Christ’s death and resurrection.

But this idea intrigued me…while we do enjoy reading good stories, and watching good stories both in the theatre and on TV, how many of us actually LIVE good stories? What are we doing right now that is memorable, that will be ultimately lasting when we have faded from this world?

Let me tie this into my recent trip to San Francisco. I had absolutely no reason to go to San Francisco, other than my desire to go. There was no great need to drive 5 hours north. But I did it. I decided that seeing a friend there was worth it, that a weekend spent in a city that was completely unfamiliar and unknown to me would be something good for my own well-being. I hardly put any thought into the trip, actually. And it turned out that it was indeed good for me. I discovered once again what a beautiful gift life is, as I wandered through a metropolis filled with vibrant sights and sounds. I walked through Nature and was amazed at God’s creation. I communed with close friends. The trip immediately became a milestone that I will always carry with me. But it never would have happened if I hadn’t decided to just do it.

Fear can be such a crippling thing. Fear of the unknown, fear that things will just collapse if we try something that is somewhat risky. There is certainly justified fear, and we shouldn’t immediately jump into something without giving it serious thought. But we can’t be afraid to take leaps of faith. A leap of faith into a new experience might be something completely life changing.

This is what I consider, as I think about a possible move to the East Coast in a few years. As scary as the prospect of moving across the country is, it is also immeasurably thrilling. Exploring a place in which I am greatly interested in because of my historical interests is something quite exciting. I don’t doubt that there will be difficulties along the way in getting from here to there, but will it be worth it? Most definitely.

I don’t want to be someone who settles, simply because the dream is difficult. Life is difficult, and there’s no getting around that. Donald Miller makes the valid argument in his book that when we chose Christ, we didn’t get a cure-all solution to the hardships of life. Living involves hardship, and the hardship should be welcomed by us and not avoided. That isn’t an easy thing. I haven’t mastered it by any means. Like a story, life involves conflict. The greater the conflict, the greater the story…because as great as the conflict is, the reward will be even greater as we overcome the conflict. We are in a society that seems to want things quickly and with as little hardship as possible. But nothing worthwhile in this life is quick, easy, or free.

Can we pursue the hard things, and focus on the essentials in a world where distractions abound? I’m constantly distracted by so many things, but I think this is possible. In a crippled economy, nation, and world, our focus needs to be on the lasting things.

Off I Go.

Tomorrow morning I will set off towards a land of golden bridges, Chinatown, isolated prison complexes, and great friends. San Francisco it is.

Up to this point, I’ve only spent a few hours in the city of San Francisco…this time, lasting roughly Thursday-Sunday, will hopefully give me a better introduction to the city. I also hope that this time will be a time of exploration and reflection, a time to hear God’s voice while I’m somewhere distant and unfamiliar. I find that it is often in the unfamiliar that we discover something new about life and about ourselves. May the Lord lead and direct me as I make this trip.