life from nothing

The past few weeks have been a beautiful reminder to me that I am nothing. You know it's a funny thing, that phrase "I am nothing" used to pop into my head all the time but until recently it had stopped. It was always this incredible reminder of my identity in Christ, this comfort that I was his and didn't have to worry about trying to be someone great or what anyone around me thought because he would use me regardless of my nothingness.

For awhile there I lost my identity and tried to be someone. I thought I had to be something- thought I had to be cool to be a church planter, thought I had to know what to promote and what to be cynical of, thought I had to be. . and the list goes on. Turns out I was wrong. . the old me would have figured that out a long time ago- but thankfully God reminded the new me who had grown a bit dense that I am nothing and all that matters is that I am daily relying on him. Because the truth is I am nothing without him, I need him, I'm not really living when I think otherwise. I am glad that I have an incredible wife, awesome friends, and great people at my internship to help remind me and to talk to about this stuff- and most of all I am overjoyed that God puts up with my crap and still steps in to remind me of who I am and what it means to really live. Thanks

Floating Bricks

Sometimes staring at yourself is like facing a villain for the first time. All this time he’s been there trying to ruin your story, but you never noticed until this one time that you actually looked in the mirror. It seems to me that the whole human condition is just one big struggle between our selfishness and the inherent goodness God built into us from the beginning. Sure there are forces that help either side along (not to mention the context of a bigger story), but ultimately we have to make up our minds. Notice I didn’t say choose. . that would be too easy. I said make up our minds because there’s emotions and passions and desires and confusion and blindness and stupidity and complacency and distractions and brokenness and pain and setbacks and falldowns all along the way isn’t there. Sometimes I feel like a Brick and it seems like all I can do is sink. . Other times I shoot up to the surface like some kind of . . i’dno thing that floats. And when I do that floating thing I know it’s not me doing it, it’s pretty plane to me during those times that it’s God. But strangely enough it seems that when I’m doing the Brick thing there’s something I need to change.That’s the strange thing that I guess I’m trying to say. . I fee like a Brick whose been told he needs to learn how to float. Odd that God chose bricks when it was floating he wanted done. I wish this keyboard were piano keys, and I could play a beautiful heartbroken song over my human condition. Which by the way is beautiful and heartbroken. You know it’s odd how it takes us so long to believe in God, then even longer to notice him, and then even longer than that to realize that he’s always been there, and maybe if your lucky you take your life in your hands, stop lying on the floor crying to him to do the work for you, and start walking and laughing with him all the while knowing he’s right there giving you exactly what you need. . . I wish I could say I’ve been able to get off the floor and start being the floatingest dang brick you ever did see, but I’m reminded daily that I’m not even close. God uses the weakest, most fragile, delusional things doesn’t he? I believe that God’s help is abundant and infinitely beautiful, it just turns out that he’s waiting on me to finally take some initiative. Dear Lord please bless this Brick’s desire to float

"The sports guy"

Since my internship has started I've made the realization that almost everyone in the office is, to some degree- "the sports guy"... when I say "sports guy" I mean that their is an innate burning passion for one or more sports teams. All my life I've been raised to Love the Bengals (don't bother, I've heard all the jeers), and I do. . it's just that I'd never understood what it was to be willing to lay down your life for a sports team. I may take a few blows and talk some trash that I could never back up for the Bengals, but to truly really care with every fiber of my being was foreign to me. . . Until now. I just want to thank everyone here at Crossings for showing me what it means to truly appreciate and have passion for a game. . . namely soccer. Although the US dreams for the world cup are over this time around, I have learned the joy of leaping off of benches with a flying mid air fist pump to celebrate a goal. I've learned the joy of chanting USA whilst proudly pumping my mexican burrito into the air at a jam packed Soccer Taco. I've seen the goodness of following goals via cellphone updates during formal occasions. Even to know the raw passion of shouting at incompetent refs for taking away our stinking goals adds much color to life. So a deep heartfelt thank you to all of you who had a part in sharing your passion. . . who knows, maybe soon I'll be a Cubs fan?