On Death, The Defeat Of.

I feel like the captain of the Titanic. On good days, I'm bailing water, hoping to make a difference and see the ship rise a few inches, to stem back the oncoming flood. On bad days, I just sit back and polish the brass.
And yet, I remain optomistic. With a God as big and storied as mine, I know He's in control.
The book of Judges gives us a lot of stories about a lot of people that He used. Samson is one of my favourites because he screws up royally, yet with his last breath he redeems himself. God uses Samson to make a point and bring Isreal back to Himself.
If I'm going down with the ship, I want to go down in style! If God's using me as a cautionary tale, I want to make sure I do everything in my power (and His will) to make it a good tale.
The thief on the cross behind Jesus deserved to be there, dying in agony. Yet I know that when his time came, he was in Heaven's endless glory, just as Christ promised him.
If I'm to die poor, alone, having lived a life where nothing (save Christ's saving works) went right, it will be a life well lived. A life rewarded handsomely.

Friday was His death. He BECAME sin, so when He died, sin would die with Him. "Thanks, Jesus. Sin is dead. Whoo!"
But then comes Sunday. Sunday is His rebirth. His resurrection. With the resurrection, He becomes life, so while He lives, we live with Him.
There can be no forgiveness without the shedding of blood. So rich is our Father's love for us that He shed His blood. When's the last time you shed your blood for someone you loved? Perhaps you gave blood for a much needed transfusion to save an uncle? Gave a kidney for your sick cousin? Jesus chose to give His life for us. He chose to give His life for me. For you. I have a hard time giving money for people I care about. I shutter at the thought of giving an organ, and I refuse to give blood as I'm scared to death of needles. This isn't love.
Love is sacrificial. Always. If it doesn't hurt, it's not love. But let me be clear. If all it does is hurt, it's probably not love either.
In our search for love on this earth, I'm certain that the trick is finding someone who makes the sacrifice as painless and natural as possible; Someone who makes the choice of giving of ourselves easy. I cannot imagine how hard it was for our Father to give His life. I cannot imagine how hard we made that choice. How I would burn with anger at mankind, were I God. How I would seethe. Noah would not have survived the flood, were I in charge. How hard must that choice have been, knowing how sinful I am, how wrapped up in shame and pride, for God to sacrifice His Son?
Thank God I am not He, or we'd all be screwed.

We have our picture of Love, our example. It died on a cross, in agony, taking on our wrongdoings, our sin. It rose 3 days later, exchanging our nature for one of righteousness. Our best acts, our most righteous acts or thoughts or movements all pale in comparison.
He is risen, I'm not worthy, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

On Worship, Tired and/or Hungover

Yes, you read that right. I have played church services while hungover. I've played services on mornings where I never went to sleep. I've slept through church services.


Now, before you excommunicate me from the Church, know this: my heart is for the Lord, and He've never failed to humble me when I hit the stage. I'm constantly in awe of His power and majesty and the fact that He uses a screw-up like me.
That said, I want to share a bit of my mindset on mornings like those mentioned above.
I read a tweet from one "Worship_Tips", and it's as such: Remember, what you do tonight will affect how you lead worship tomorrow. Guard your heart. Don't risk loosing the anointing.


Too true.  We should be careful of the condition of our heart when we head in to His Presence. However, to avoid His Presence simply because we're tired or we made a mistake the night before would be foolish. He accepts us, broken as we are, and our willingness to be open about our brokenness and shame is one of the greatest benefits to us and to others that comes from that acceptance. 


Too many mornings I've sat through prayers from tired folk praying that God would wake them up, give them an alertness, blah blah blah. Nothing wrong with that, but I enjoy the mornings where it hurts to lift my head, where I'm too tired to give it my all. And I'll tell you why: Because when everything does work out, when God shows up, when The Spirit descends, I can know fully and completely that it had NOTHING TO DO WITH ME! Not a thing. I gave my all, and it still wasn't enough. God came down because He chose to. He honoured our songs and praises because He chose to. He gives me the strength to worship Him because He chooses to. 


How often in our "strength" and "alertness" and "preparedness" do we fret or worry about everything? Do we, (though we'd never say it out loud) think that everything hinges upon us and our competence?


It's the same way on mornings when there's PA issues, or the sermon isn't complete quite yet, or the guitarist can't quit breaking strings. It's a chance to sit back and reflect upon how messed up we are, how we can do NOTHING good of our own strength, and praise Jesus that He shows up anyways.


Now I'm not saying that we should all stay up all night or come into church tomorrow hungover (or still drunk), but if it comes down to fellowshipping with good intentionality with good folk or unbelievers that need the word, or going to bed at 8:00 so I can be bright-eyed and bushy tailed, I'll always choose the former. Tonight I'm going out to see good folk, to fellowship with people I don't see often enough, and to praise God for excellent music. I won't be out extremely late, but I won't be in before midnight. But I'm not worried, nor do I feel that I'm testing God. My heart and conscience are clear in this matter: God is Lord, and He comes first. And at 8:00 tomorrow morning I'll find myself facedown in His Presence, with no dichotomy between last night and that moment.


Be wise in your dealings, wise in your decisions. Don't sin without regard to God or the future. But don't wrap yourself in a bubble, never going out, never talking to strangers, and never having a good time. Fellowship, food, drinks; all are gifts from God to be celebrated. And all are things to thank Him for on sunday morning, whether you're fully awake or not. 

On Whims, Chasing.

I'm perplexed by people who chase after fleeting desires. (Yes, I perplex myself, but one thing at a time).

I had a chat with a young lady tonight after her sexual practices. She usually sleeps with men on the first date because she believes that if the sex isn't good that there's not much point to progressing the relationship. This is an ideology she developed after a longterm relationship came to an end in a most painful way.

While I understand her pain, I don't understand her subsequent quest.

Same goes for men chasing women, people chasing wealth or fame, or a junkie chasing his next fix.

My pursuit, most times, is for whatever my pride desires. I'll entertain a person who is interested in me, but only because I'm flattered by their interest. I'll watch porn because I think some sort of sexual satisfaction is missing in my life. I'll chase gigs because I feel that if I were playing full-time I'd be happy.

But the longer I live the more I get tired of all this. Happiness is fleeting, and so is this life. How dare we think we have so long to live that we can fritter away our time chasing money or sex or fame!

I'd be lying if I said that being single makes me happy or joyous; but my desire for a mate is not strong enough to make me do something silly like go looking for a woman. If it happens, it happens. 

I don't think I've ever "burned in my lust", but I do get distracted and enticed. 

And being without a job does not make me happy. I need things to do during the day, I need a sense of accomplishment. But I'm trying to be open to what God has for me. I'd like to think if He told me to move to Africa that I'd be receptive. However, there's only one way to find that out. 

I think my pride is my biggest sin. Believing that I know what's best for me, that I'm in control, that if I work harder I'll get ahead. My pride tells me to make plans and when they don't work out that God didn't want me there, that maybe He is against me or has it out for me. When something happens to my car randomly I start to wonder what I might have done that He'd be punishing me. 

But it's not punishment, it's discipline. We discipline the ones we love, and we leave be the ones we don't.

My roommate is finding this out as she's started taking her dog to an obedience school following an incident wherein her dog looked her directly in the eyes at it peed on the carpet. Y'see, she never disciplined her dog, so it thought it was the master. It didn't know any better, and if it were master, it'd be screwed. It can't feed itself as it doesn't know where the food is, it can't walk itself, if it did end up outside it'd be roadkill pretty quickly.

So it is with God and us. We are idiots wandering around in a dangerous world, looking to make bad decisions and mistakes, and we find only death.

I know, a very high and mighty view to take, but the longer I live, the more I believe it. Watching my friends chase after things that fade, I feel sad for them. I feel sad for me when I do it too. No amount of sexual partners will ever make me feel good about myself. No amount of alcohol will make me forget my bad decisions or awful desires. No amount of playing will ever make me feel like an accomplishment. And no amount of praise from my father or any other authority on this earth will ever make me complete.

Thank God for grace. Grace that I could never earn, grace that I could never afford. Grace given simply because I happened to realize that I need saving. 

God knows what He's doing, as hard as that is at times to believe. As the saying goes: "Just because you can't see the sun doesn't mean it's not shining."

Of Tripe, Self-Indulgent.

As I reread some of my blogs I'm struck by the thought that I sound like a holy and righteous bastard. Perhaps I censor myself so that nobody sees the real me, or so I look like a holy and righteous awesome guy that everyone wants to know. Perhaps.

Murphy's Law has struck again and I've incurred damage upon my car. It's nothing too serious, but Mo (my car) isn't as pretty as she once was and her back door doesn't really work anymore. Just another thing I can't afford to pay for.
As I sought council for my grief, I was pointed by a friend to Ephesians. He claimed it was all about grace, and knowing, perhaps even being comfortable with the fact that we have done nothing and can do nothing to earn God's grace and forgiveness. I get that, but I don't get why he wanted me to read it.
After I read Ephesians, I read the opening chapter of Brennan Manning's The Ragamuffin Gospel (Illustrated Edition). Yes, it's illustrated. So much so that it only contains 15% of the source material. A friend bought it for me assuming I could knock it out easier, as I'm not much of a reader.

Truth be told I'm a bit numb to all of this. I can do nothing to deserve God's grace, but I fail to make the connection to what happened tonight. Instead, my thoughts turned to the possibility that perhaps God recently gave me a direct command and I haven't fulfilled it yet. Honestly, that's the best theory I have to explain my entire situation right now. And I know, it's not a very good one.
But it's a logical and existential one.

I had a dream saturday night that woke me up alarmed, in pain, and very confused. It was such an odd and disturbing dream that I immediately inquired of God if it could be a prophecy or message and if I should seek interpretation. He said no.
What didn't dawn on me until Sunday afternoon is that it could be a spiritual attack. My first reaction to that thought was that I was "of no spiritual significance at this time"; that I'm not important enough for Satan to take notice of me; that I've wandered into God's wrath, or simply His negligence, and am not currently a threat to The Forces Of Evil.

I have no uplifting ending tonight, no words of wisdom or insight, and no message of hope. I'm still wrestling with this all. I don't believe that I've missed any overt commands from my Lord, and I know that I cannot earn His grace, and that I am of great significance to Him. I don't know what He's doing, or why my accident tonight happened, but I know He's doing something and all I can do is trust Him and ask to see it.
I'd ask that you'd all do the same for me, and each other.

On Money, A Fool And His.

I'm not sure what to do with this entry. (not a strong opening statement, I know. just go with it) So much has happened this past week, though most of it not physical. God's been kicking my ass for a while now in so many areas, and it's hard to narrow it down and pick on subject because they all seem related.

I was going to post on money matters and why being poor isn't a bad thing. I was going to reference Proverbs 30:7-9, my favourite practical prayer. In fact, I think I will:

“Two things I ask of you, LORD; 
   do not refuse me before I die: 

Keep falsehood and lies far from me; 
   give me neither poverty nor riches, 
   but give me only my daily bread. 
Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you 
   and say, ‘Who is the LORD?’ 
Or I may become poor and steal, 
   and so dishonor the name of my God."

How much more practical does it get? This gets to an issue I have right now trusting God to provide. It's humbling, that's for sure, knowing there's little to nothing I can do to make ends meet. And then when God does show up at the last second, all I can do is stand in silence. I don't deserve such help or provision, but I get it. As soon as anyone out there understands that connection, let me know!

It's never a lot of money, y'know, but it's always just what I need, which makes sense in light of that proverb, and fits in well with God's character.

When the Isrealites were wandering the desert and God gave them manna, He only gave them enough to make it through the day. It's the idea of cultivating a dependency on Him and His provision. When Jesus told Pete to go fishing and collect the coin out of the fish's mouth for the temple tax, it was only enough to pay for Jesus and Pete. No more, no less. 

It's downright magical sometimes how it works. Several years ago I was offered the chance to go to Ukraine on a mission trip and I felt very called to go. Problem was, I didn't have the $1500 for it. And I only had a month to come up with it. That didn't go very well at all, I'll say that. But literally one week before we left the money showed up. A little from the church I was attending at the time, a little worked into the budget of the missions organization with whom I was going, and I have no clue where the rest came from. I'm okay with not knowing. The knowing doesn't matter. It's the gratitude with which it's received that does.

That trip did a great many things for me. It changed my life. It got me out of a very messed up relationship that was killing me. It reminded me of my love of serving others. 

As I write this now I'm still without job, gigs are few and far between, I'm $100 short on rent, my car is out of gas, I have nothing to eat but peanut butter and jelly, etc. etc. etc. 

Am I worried? Oh hell yes!! But I know that it'll be okay. I don't know how, or when, but that's faith, right?

I do my part, I work hard when I've got the work, I'm faithful to tithe and serve and obey, and God does what He does, which is mostly saving my dumbass from myself.

Look at that. I think that covers the money situation pretty well.

Let's all pray that I swallow my pride long enough to write about sin next time. I promise, that one will hurt a lot.

On Pedro The Lion References

As I'll explain later, this blog is an exercise in breaking habits and fighting laziness. I don't feel horribly compelled to write right this moment, but I figured I might forget my point if I don't. Also, they say writing is a skill that must be practiced, so consider me practicing.


As I awoke around 11am today, I was struck by my nonchalant attitude at the time on the clock. It meant almost nothing to me (Indeed, time is an abstract I've always wrestled with, but that's for another entry). I'm so used to sleeping in and staying up late and being without job that I almost consider my current lifestyle to be the norm. However, this idea would soon die a fiery horrible death.


On the way to my parent's house a certain song came on my iPod. I haven't heard this song in years, and I'm honestly not sure why I still have it, let alone how it got on my iPod. It may be familiar to some, to others a new discovery. The lyrics go a little something like this:
"you're up with the sunrise
and down when the work's been done
with excellence industry
diligence naturally
i would like to be you
just for a few habit forming years
laziness cuts me like fine cutlery
i need a miracle someone to help me help myself
sweet jesus i need you
forgive me this sin
not hookers or heroin gambling or gin
it sounds so ridiculous but i just can't lick this


And it's true. Most days I claim to be looking for a job but in fact spend more time watching bad tv and surfing Facebook. It's not because I'd rather be watching bad tv than working, but because I'm used to wasting my day away. It feels normal. 


And laziness feels so insurmountable. It feels omnipresent and omnipotent. It feels like something I'll never beat. As the song goes, I might almost feel better if my sin were prostitutes or black tar heroin. It'd make me feel better about proclaiming to have a problem. Hell, I can give up porn but I can't quit Maury?!


But it is what it is. I do need help. I need reasons to get up in the morning, outside of myself. If I get up early I'm more likely to actually get things done, but I can't force myself awake. So here's an idea: You, dear reader, are invited over for breakfast. Or perhaps you could invite me. Either way, please let me know in advance, and I'd love to get up and cook or just eat breakfast with you.


And we'd get to hang out, and I need to be social. Social habits force change in me as being social makes me feel lame for not having a job. Peer pressure does work!
Also, if anyone knows of a place that is hiring, please let me know.


Wow, that turned into a bit more of a post than I was expecting. Go me!
Thank you for your time and consideration.

On Safety, The Illusion Of.

It ain't easy being T O D.
Sorry, that phrase is stuck in my head.

I wanted to talk about control, as that was part of the sermon this morning.  The Sabbath, and what it teaches us about slowing down, giving up both self-importance and control. Good stuff.
I was struck by the idea of controlling things, but my brain started running around with the idea of security. Security (or the illusion thereof) is probably the biggest reason why we try to control things. I know it is for me. If I can get into a good working band I'll have money and moderate success and be happy. Maybe if I get a nice girl I'll be happy. Maybe if I didn't have to clean up my roommate's dog's crap, I'd be happy.
But why do I care? Why must I control these things? Why must I have this security?
Because I'm afraid. I'm afraid that maybe I'm wrong and God isn't watching out for me, or maybe He's not big enough to help me out when I need Him, or that what He has for me isn't what I want, or that I don't love Him enough. Blasphemous thoughts, I know, but we all have them at times, especially when things get hard.

A friend of mine recently broke up with his longterm girlfriend and suffered bouts of depression in his process of grieving. But the other night at a show he said something to me. "I flirt with girls, I play the game, because when I win, when I know that I could take this girl home, it makes me feel like a man."
And it's true. It's scary, and it's true.
And I do it too. I talk to girls who take an interest in me because it makes me feel important and powerful, much like a man should. I don't much need to have an interest in any of these girls so long as they have an interest in me. Because I'm afraid that I'm not a man. That I'm not justified, that I'm not in control.

And this brings me to Peter. Always at Jesus' side, always seeking His approval, wanting to say the right thing, do the right thing. I wonder sometimes if he signed on with Jesus because Pete thought the coming Kingdom was to be a military kingdom, but it doesn't matter much because eventually Pete got it.
He had foot-in-mouth disease, always saying the first thing that popped into his head, which could get awkward. But that very trait made him the perfect man to get out of the boat and try and walk on water with Jesus.
But on the night of Jesus' death, Pete denied Him three times. I bet he was scared. He was scared of being associated with Christ, possibly dying with Him, but more than that, scared that he was wrong about Jesus. Deny now, apologize later.
And he had to look into the eyes of the man he denied as Christ was being dragged away to be beaten. That had to hurt. He had to watch a man whom he loved, a man with whom he had lived the past 3 years, a man who carried his heart and soul, get crucified. He had to watch Christ die in order to give up that fear. But that was love. It didn't feel like it at the time, but it was.
We all have to die, and we have to watch our dreams die, our hopes die, our loves die. Because without death, nothing can be reborn, nothing can be renewed. The Phoenix rises from the ashes, my Christ rises from his tomb. Carrying my fears on their back, giving me hope and grace to live a life without fear.
That scares me. As well it should.