relocating

(me, working like a Hebrew slave.)

Today it was confirmed that we are moving offices to a bigger place. I love my space, my window, my desk, my view of the Holiday Inn and parking lot. Ah…farewell sweet sanctuary. When we move I will post a pic of my new space in the basement.
(PS yes, that’s my morning face…and what I like to call my “mama’s boy smile”.)

a peculiar graduation

Tonight I talked with God.
I awoke this morning with a heavy, heavy heart. Disappointed and frustrated. Half an hour late I ran down to the car and found myself parked in. On the freeway I spilt my coconut-iced coffee over my nice clean white shirt. I picked one up at the store, making me an hour late for work,… as the boss was willing to point out. (and I usually start work at 10!) A sad email and 2 cancelled dinner plans later I found myself sitting in my neighborhood diner alone with my new leather bound journal and a pen on fire.

I love the way black ink perfectly leaks onto pure white pages. I love how thoughts flow from my heart to my head, through my arm and onto the page. I have felt like a run away child of recent, filling my time with good times but skewed priorities. Carelessly and selfishly running away from my Father. I scribbled down a picture of a crumbling, wounded heart with a blindfolded me trying to climb out of it, while resisting His fierce love.

“The conscious awareness of our resistance to grace and the refusal to allow God’s love to make us who we really are brings a sense of oppression. Our lives become fragmented, inconsistent, lacking in harmony and out of sync.” –Brennan Manning.

Feeling lost inside of oneself is a feeling worse than loneliness. Reading the first few words of Ragamuffin Gospel put a cool breeze in my sail.
His smile came unexpectedly;
Words of Manning made me think that perhaps I am not as lost as I think. Perhaps I have graduated from an arrogant and independent religious christianity. I have matured to realize that I am now one of the … bedraggled, beat-up, and burnt-out…the sorely burned who are still shifting the heavy suitcase from one hand to the other…the weak-kneed who knows I don’t have it altogether and am too proud to accept the hand-out of amazing grace. I am one of the inconsistent, unsteady disciples whose cheese is falling off their cracker. I am one of the poor, weak, sinful men with hereditary faults and limited talents, an earthen vessel who shuffles along on feet of clay. Yes, I am bent and bruised and feel at times that my life is a grave disappointment to God. I am one of those smart people who knows they are stupid and am an honest disciple who admits he has grown weary and discouraged along the Way.

Who knew that descending was the prerequisite for this over due graduation? And now i'm off to following jesus 101...

be a man

I remember reading the poem "IF" by Rudyard Kipling which to my knowledge still hangs in the home of my Uncle Keith. The poem reminds me of those hot sticky summer afternoons in my teenage years when I would take long naps on the couch and stare up at it, read it and re-read it to myself till I fell into a peaceful sleep. The poem is an eloquent list of noble virtues that a father presents to his son. My favorite part was always the last line that crescendos into this simple profound conclusion, “And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!”

I finally got around to watching Coach Carter. I loved the dedication and unyielding leadership of this man. I loved his clarity of vision and his commitment to what he saw was beyond the fleeting victory of a basketball game. “I came here to coach athletes, and you became students. I came here to teach boys, and you became men.” – Coach Carter

I have been thinking a lot about what makes a man a MAN. I have always admired men who are solid rocks… Martin Luther, Martin Luther King Jr., William Wallace, Gandhi, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Winston Churchill, and Nelson Mandela. I feel that these men are portraits of what I want to believe a man to be. I guess I struggle with the fact that these men are so few and far between. Why do so many men fall short? What happened to leadership, honor, virtue, fortitude, courage, and valor? Unfortunately, even writing these words down sounds like they are from ages past.

“Years ago, manhood was an opportunity for achievement, and now it is a problem to be overcome.” – Garrison Keillor
Have we become part of a culture that has emasculated men? Am I a front row witness to the feminization of society? Excuse me but how the hell did the perfectly manicured Abercrombie models get to represent manhood for my generation? And why are there, so many wimpy Raymond’s and pathetic Castanza’s? Is anyone else hearing me on this? The water is muddy and we are losing sight of what a real man is. I would hate for my kids to look up to guys like R. Kelly, Coby or Johnny Knoxville. Where have all the real men gone? Seriously! I emphatically refuse to believe that I cannot be a MAN!

Okay, I’m done.