"Tinkered by a Thousand Hands..."

I think it is extraordinarily important to understand and constantly remember the individual elements that make up the person you are.

To believe that you are a monolithic, self created, self sustaining entity, with no understanding of where you came from or what people had a hand in making you, is the height of arrogance. So, in an effort to cultivate in my behavior what I believe is good, I would like to take this post as an opportunity to think about and recognize those people who have made me who I am.

"Here I stand or fall, a man,
Tinkered by a thousand hands.
Countless people making me,
Forging, molding, patiently.
How do I thank a thousand hands,
That saw a treasure in the sand?
I choose to honor what they've done
By being another's, one thousand one."

To my father, I owe my patient nature.  I would not know what it is to be a patient man if I did not have his example my entire life.  He taught me that there is always more patience, and that the patience comes from hope.

To my mother,I owe my love of language and the knowledge that people are always more important than things. There are few things on this earth I love more than people and words, and I owe my love of both to my mother.

My brother Jon taught me, by virtue of example, that hard work and studious application opens doors to new opportunities.  Don't take your eyes off the prize.

To my brother James I owe my loyalty to things I believe in, and my steadfast belief that if no one else moving, they are probably waiting for you.

To my sister Kate, I owe my belief that I can probably do whatever it is I am unsure I can do, simply by virtue of being me, and the relentless knowledge that adventure is waiting.  Constantly.

To my brother Daniel, I owe a couple scars, the knowledge that I do, I fact, have a temper, and more deep conversations about the nature of God and the world than I could ever remember.

To my brother Patrick, I owe my great and relentless hope of heaven, the greatest moments of experiencing God's comfort I have ever known, and the joy of writing music.

To my brother Joel, I owe the death of the self centered notion that I am the only one like me.  Joel keeps me remembering that, no matter how it might seem, there is always someone who is going through what you have gone through.

To my wife Caroline, I owe the hope I find in my darkest times, the (still under developed) ability to not only see grand visions and world changing ideas, but also the details that make up those big ideas.  She is the calm guide to a crazy man, and I love her for it.

To Joanna, I owe my love of the nations, my deep understanding of God as a dear friend, and the reminder that crawling up in Jesus' lap for a good cry is sometimes exactly the right thing to do.

To Andrew, I owe my inner zealot, the notion that God can use someone to impact the world, and more random adventures than either of our mothers would prefer.

To Timothy I owe my first understanding of what like minded brothers in Christ looked like.  Every deep friendship I know started from the context on our first four hour conversation about everything under the sun.

To David I owe my first real understanding of what Christ-centered missions looks like.

There are countless others, but it is 2am and I have to be up by 6, so this will have to do.
Do yourself a favor and think about how you came to be the person you are.  I think you will find that it was not by accident, not in vane, and mostly, not of your own doing.

The Nearsightedness of Faith

People always say that faith is blind.  “Well, that’s just blind faith, you just have to trust.”  This has always bothered me – though not because it sounds trite or because I need to know everything before I do something. 

So, here is my modification of that idea.  Faith is not blindness – it is nearsightedness.  Here’s why:

Imagine life as a series of steps you have to take.  When people say that “faith is blind,” it is as though you can’t see any of those steps you need to take, and you just need to start walking into the darkness, trusting that you won’t run into anything.  In my experience, this is not how faith has presented itself. 

• Faith is knowing the first step, but not the twelfth.  
• Faith is not knowing what the third step is, but trusting that when you take the first step, the second will show itself.  
• Faith is knowing that “wait and do nothing” is a perfectly legitimate step to take.  
• Faith is not complete blindness, it’s just nearsightedness. 

You might feel like the path in front of you is dark and unsure and causeless – but trust that you always know what the next step is, and you need to take that step before anything else is made clear.  So rather than focus on figuring out every step of your life, focus on what the next step is that you might not be taking, and take it.

  

The Quintessential

The Quintessential

To me, this is a fun word.  Not only is it long and sounds like you know what you’re talking about, but if you actually do know what you’re talking about, you wielding a powerful concept.  If you were to look in a dictionary (or google) you would find that “quintessential” means “representing the most perfect or typical example of a quality or class.” 

So here is an example:

You might not notice anything funny about this picture, especially considering how often ones like it surround you, but there is an example of the quintessential here.  Why is there a checkbook with a fountain pen on top?  Do you own a fountain pen?  Have you ever used one?  If you do own one, do you make out checks with it?  For some reason, the fountain pen is, possibly subconsciously, our quintessential notion of what a pen is.  Ignoring that 99% percent of all the pens you’ve ever used in your life are roller, gel, or ballpoint pens, the fountain pen represents what all pens aspire to be. 

Here is another example.

This, the brush, the cup, the shaving soap, the straight razor, is the picture of quintessential shaving for men.  But who do you know who shaves with a brush, soap, and straight razor?  Granted there are a few, but not many. 

Record players, gin martinis, straight razors, fountain pens, barber shops, big band night clubs where the manager walks around in a Humphrey Bogart style dinner jacket, these all subconsciously sit on the list of the quintessential in my mind.  Looking at the list, it is clear I should have been an adult in the 1940s, but I’m sure I’m not the only one.

The most perfect version of something is more often than not entirely unattainable.  So here’s a challenge.  Sign your checks with a fountain pen.  Start a record collection.  Get a straight razor and a brush.  Do something quintessential. 

Life is too short to obviously resign yourself to these:

The Writer's March

This month, I began to host a writer's challenge, called "The Writer's March".  This challenge was meant to get writers to write more consistently about the things that they are actually thinking and want to write about.

From the very first time I put out the challenge, there has been a buzz of excitement in the air.  People genuinely want any excuse to write more.  It is currently five days in and there have been nine posts by five people.

Although the group is small, I think the people who are participating will see it though to the end.  31 days of some kind of consistent writing is not an easy task, but there is the feel of commitment that makes me believe it will be a success.

In the time we live in, where social media can connect you to virtually everyone on the planet through series of relationships, why not take advantage of that medium to do some kind of good?  There is always the danger that great ideas, when made widely accessible, will become trite and meaningless next to everything else that is floating around in the world.  But I would rather risk failure of something great than never attempt anything of substance at all.

You touch more people than you know.  Do not let that knowledge or ability go to waste because you were afraid of failure.

On Faces

I find it interesting, and a little hilarious, that I cannot see my own face without outside help.  

I remember the first time I really realized the significance of not being able to see my own face. I was at Summit Ministries in Dayton, Tennessee, the summer of 2007. The topic my small group was discussing somehow went way off track, and we ended up talking about bathrooms for some reason. My small group leader mentioned that he might go in the bathroom, simply to see if he had any foreign objects on his face. As the discussion went on, my mind stayed with that off-handed comment. 

Bare with this little tangent for a moment.  My small group leader needed to use an outside source (the mirror) to see if there was anything that didn't belong on one of the most distinct things about him (his face). Surely, if there was one part of our bodies that it would make sense for us to be able to see, it would be our face. 

But here we are, our over-developed acne, the bit of mayonnaise and the running mascara, all out of our view. Surely we are unaware of these hideous blemishes which shout their presence to all who have eyes. Because we are unaware, we do nothing about them. They stay there, for all the world to see; as we continue on in our self-confidence, unaware that anything is wrong. 

The reason that I found this off-handed comment so interesting is what it might reflect about our human nature. Is it possible that the most distinct features and the characteristics by which others know us are hidden from our view without the help of an outside source to see them?  If the most obvious thing about us also happens to be our biggest blind spot, then we most certainly need to be in community with other people.   

There is no doubt in my mind that we were created to be in community - to need other people to function as a whole person.  

In the first chapter of James, the author uses this example when talking about being a doer of the word, and not just a hearer. It says: 
“…he is like a man who looks at his natural face in a mirror; for once he has looked at himself and gone away, he has immediately forgotten what kind of person he was.” 

Guest Post - Kirsten Richardson

When Stephen first approached me, asking if I was interested in guest posting for him (and vice versa…stay tuned for his guest appearance on my blog), I was excited at the opportunity.  Then he sent me a prompt: “Knowing and seeking Christ in the quiet.” I deflated slightly, as the enormity of the subject sank in. Nevertheless, I've accepted the challenge and will share a few thoughts with you.

The past two years influenced me more spiritually than any other time in my life. I experienced times of busyness, and my spiritual escape was secluding myself with my journal, bible, and Pandora or Vimeo. My soul received rejuvenation while thinking, praying, and processing to God without a time constraint.

Personality is irrelevant when spending time with Christ. Yes, our individual characteristics will influence the ways we connect spiritually, worship publicly and privately, and relate to God. But, sitting with God, being still and connecting with Him, is a Biblical instruction.

Psalm 46:10 is the cliché “be still” verse. Jesus tells Martha to relax and points out that sitting at his feet is more important that having the perfect meal (ouch…as a natural planner, I just felt that one as I wrote it). We have the examples of Jesus spending time with the Father in quiet, away from the noise of life and the distraction of His disciples.

I experience more growth while talking with one friend than when I spend time with five. 

The same happens with Jesus. When I spend quiet time with Him, whether in the early morning hours, late at night, in the car, or some other place, I grow more than when I am in a noisy environment, catered to a large group.

The quiet is when I cry out, scribble pages, and wrestle. Sometimes it is peaceful, other times it is exhausting. Regardless, when I resume my tasks, I feel a peace and restoration.

Disagreements Interest Me

Disagreements interest me.

This post is similar to a previous post of mine - which you should refer to for more depth if you are concerned with my logic.

I think disagreements tell me what you hold to be valuable.  Though – the person who refuses to disagree with anyone and the person who insists on disagreeing with everyone both believe nothing of interest to me.  I do not say that they believe nothing – but that whatever it is that they believe, simply disinterests me. 

So, ignoring what disinterests me, let us turn our attention to those who choose their disagreements – whether consciously or instinctually.

It seems that any argument can be made to have high stakes, whether or not it actually does.  Forgive me if this is your particular pet debate, but I’m going to use it as an example. 

• It can be said that if free will were the way that Christian salvation occurs, this negates God’s divine plan, and leaves him waiting in heaven, wringing His hands (metaphorically) hoping that mankind accepts the gift He has offered.

• The other side says that if predestination were the way that Christian salvation occurs, this leaves mankind as robots, controlled by the impersonal marionette strings of a deity unconcerned with our choices. 

What I think is that both sides have charged up the high stakes of their argument so that if you disagree with their side, the consequences are astronomical.  This can be done with virtually anything.  Unless you believe this one particular way, it means (x) which means (x) which means the nature of God has changed. 

All of these assume that unless these questions are answered sufficiently, the world has fallen apart.  Let me assure you – the world rests on Christ, and on nothing else.  As believers, we firmly stand united that salvation is provided by Christ.  Rather than argue about the mysterious method by which Christ has come to save us, let each of us apply ourselves to loving each other and obeying God. 

I have known of very few people who have ever been argued or debated into the kingdom of God.  But I have known many, countless masses, which have been loved into the kingdom of God – myself included.  If you are faced with the choice to either argue with someone over the minutia of the way by which God has come to save us or to love that person and meet them where they are – I urge you to choose the latter.