Embarrassement

So, fun quick story before bed.
I did something today I’ve never done before.

This morning started out smoothly, with good coffee and catharthis in writing. Then off to lunch. I’ve located a lovely vegetarian place called Eden Ally, and I have yet to be even close to unhappy with my experience there. All of the food is delicious, and great for you.

A couple days ago, I was doing hard work at my parents house, during which time my money clip fell out of my pocket and into the couch cushion while on break. I had realized it was missing when I got back to my apartment that same night.
2 nights ago.
I unfortunately forgot this fact today as I was scarfing down an amazing meal with zero dollars in my pocket to pay for it. Which, of course, I didn’t realize till I had taken my bill to the register, made a comment about the amazing lunch to the help, and reach into my pocket.
The color red invaded my face with the heat of 10,000 suns, filled with scorn, regret and disappointment.

Luckily, my dad is amazing, and met me half way between the restaurant and his house to get me my money clip. He saved the day, and I made it to work on time, with my wallet in my pocket, and a happily paid-for lunch in my belly.
Thank God in heaven for dads, and gracious restaurant help.

Long Overdue. Thoughts on Life, and Other Things…

Hello, you, oh brave web-wonderer. You have fallen off the path of the mainstream if you have found yourself at this simple, homely blog of a bewildered and sojourning soul.

If you care to know, it’s been many months since I’ve typed anything here. Not even a draft. There may have been one around the time of New Years, but ultimately, it was drivel from a boy who just wanted to have something to say. And while I like having something to say, one does not always have to open his mouth in order to be heard. And I don’t like opening my mouth when I have nothing behind my words.

And now for the topic which is on my heart for some reason: Dancing.

This does include feet on a wood floor, but more than anything, it was the feeling of dancing. I don’t like looking foolish. Being a clown where “I” become the joke or the punchline is embarrassing to me, and I hate… being laughed at. So when that moment comes where you feel confident, enthralled, passionate and totally alive doing the “Charleston” with 20 other people; when there are no more fears. There is just the joy and freedom to do something you love, and that “something” fuels you to enjoy it more, and include others in your joy…

That’s the thing I miss in life.

I’m hungry for that source of joy, of passion. For the substance that makes my heart dance. As a barista, Coffee offers a window into that stream of life, but it certainly doesn’t fulfill it. I’ve also found a family of Believers in town to walk into life with. I love everyone there, and I think about many of them just throughout the day. My thoughts are filled with conversations I’d love to have, fears I want to confess, issues I’m anxious to discuss, dinners and parties I want to have with them.

My thoughts are also filled with many other things.

Many concerning the future. And poetry. And music. And zombies, and disaster scenarios, and weddings, and friends, and food, and sex, and school, and work, and rent. How I’m a bad neighbor, and how I want to get better. How I’m a bad friend, and who I want/need to apologize to. How I can be a better friend. Who I want to be, and what kind of life I really want to lead. Who I want to walk that life with. What to say to that person who is clearly distressed across the room. How to avoid unhealthy things of spirit and of flesh. 

Before I know it, the day is gone, and all I’ve done is think.

I want to live. I want to dance. I want to find the thing that makes my mind, body and soul take flight. And I want to do more than think.

Until next time, my friends…

Beer, Bonfires, and Biscuits

This weekend has become something I will not forget. It was nothing like I had planned it to be. The idea was to drive to visit some friends for a few days. However, after rent, groceries, bills, and gas money, I was essentially broke.

As it turns out, this was all meant to be. A few friends I would be visiting happened to be pretty busy when I would have been there. Other friends were actually driving to KC, and wanted to visit. Some friends from back in the day were having celebrations and parties here this weekend. I got to go to a baseball game (for free) with my parents and my incredible niece. And the Royals won! Right after that on friday night, I drove to a house party, where they had bands, hot dogs, great beverages, and several awesome people I hadn’t seen in a very long time. After camping in the car all night (that was a first!) and getting woken up by coyotes (also first), I went to The Big Biscuit. I’ve driven past that place probably 200 times at least over the past 12 years. So good. Best breakfast in months.

Then I spent all day today with my sister and brother in law, hanging out, playing video games. Then we went to a friends’ house, and enjoyed an early thanksgiving-style dinner with even more people who I don’t see very often.

Just trying to soak it all in; it’s a challenge all its own.

Life is so good, so sweet. So full of flavor and brightness. The food, the friends, the fires and the good times. I know it’s been a while since I’ve written here, and while I don’t have it in my mind to “commit to a blog a day/week” something like that would be very, very good.

Right now, it’s just good to be. To exist. To live here in this place and time. To take things slowly, to see the details in the tapestry. It’s something to be thoroughly grateful for. Now, to take these warm memories with me into the cascading mysteries of sleep.

Stay pleasant, my friends.

Hope Has a Center

“The Pharisees and the teachers of the law began thinking to themselves, ‘Who is this fellow (Jesus) who speaks blasphemy? Who can forgive sins but God alone?’” Luke 5:21

Life has never ceased to be vibrant and dramatic, full of spectacular colors and terrifying shadows. When you see the shadows protruding from your own feet, there’s a few ways you can respond. 1) Run to the light source so that the shadow goes away. 2) make funny animal shapes out of the shadow and be entertained for a while. 3) Run into more shadows to make your own disappear.

When you run into the shadows, it’s hard to know where your mistakes end, and those of others begin. You can become lost in the shadows. You can become comfortable in the dark. But when you trust in the shadows? When you begin hoping for protection, safety, and an end to the suffering of the darkness, what then?

And that’s where the analogy breaks apart in my head. It’s not about shadowy similes or metaphorical ideas anymore. When rubber hits the pavement with the beauty of “hoping”, **** gets real.

I’m talking about hope. The hope you have that people will love who you are. The hope that those you hurt will always forgive you. The hope that all will always be made right by enough sweat, blood and rivers of tears. But when your human failures meet another human’s goodness, it’s all for nothing. No one loves perfectly. No one can really forgive what needs to be forgiven in you. No one has the remedy for your sickness, for your shadows, for your closet’s skeletons. All those dry bones are in a heap, and no one’s rushing in to get their hands dirty. Ultimately, left to ourselves, we are all pretty selfish. Christian and non-christian. We are all still imperfect.

There is only, has only ever been, and will only ever be, One. One who will get their hands dirty for you, on no account of who you are. There is only One who can live up to the hope you desire to put in someone. There is only One who is strong enough to uphold you when you want to run into the shadows. And there is only One who will lovingly, enduringly, and relentlessly chase you down when you do. He’s the only One who can endure my hoping. He raised the dead, and called me to follow Him, with all the authority in Heaven and Earth. 

What I’m trying to get at, is that in all the people I have met, and all of them that I have put my hope in to either heal me or make me feel forgiven, none has compared with Jesus. Of course, it was a fault in the beginning to trust in men for any portion of my salvation, except in Christ alone. But I was foolishly romantic in my hoping and trusting. At the end of it all, the only One who has the authority to forgive and to truly heal the lame and broken spirit, is the One who made the man who owns them. No one else’s love can compare to the fires of God’s love. No one else’s hands can heal the truly darkened heart of a man, but that of Jesus. Hope has a center. Hope has a home. Hope is found in Jesus alone.

“Why, my soul, are you downcast? 
    Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God, 
    for I will yet praise him,
    my Savior and my God.” Psalm 42:5

Newness

If I could only tell you how many blog posts I have started, and subsequently cancelled. It’s made me a little sad to realize how inconsistent I am at writing. I got back into my paper journal a couple days ago after a 2 week hiatus. Lame.

Well, to rehash some older news: I moved back home to Kansas City. My sweet nephew, Titus Beeler, who is 4 years old, was diagnosed with Leukemia back in march. I was living down in Houston, TX, working as a Barista for two very different shops. Both were amazing experiences, with their own share of trials. Moving on: it took a couple weeks to figure out what I needed to do, and it was made very clear that I needed to be home with family during this time. It’s been strange for a couple reasons, being back in KC. I haven’t lived here in about 5 years. I’ve only visited. I feel like I’m just here on an extended visit right now, even though I know I’ll be here for… a while.

My nephew is progressing well with his medication, and has been on track with chemo and all his blood counts since they started. That’s a huge blessing/miracle. And just last weekend, my sister had baby number 3: Aurora Marie Beeler. A full set. A full house. She is beautiful, and my oldest niece, 7 year old Aubriana, is being a super sister to her younger siblings. I love those kids.

Life has certainly taken some unexpected turns. 2012 has been, and is looking like, a completely different year than I had envisioned it back at the start. I miss my friends from Houston. I miss my friends from college. Family is worth it to be here, though I know there are still more reasons for the move than I’m even aware of.

A simple post tonight. I have some ideas I may hash out on here in the near future. Some fun things are brewing on the back burners, and it will be good to explore them with you all. take care, my friends.

The Comparison

Having been out of college for almost a year now, I’d like to draw a few comparisons.

At school, you know what’s expected of you by professors and classes. You know what to expect from the cafeteria. You have a certain confidence that you will have something in common with the majority of people around you. You have skips. You have grading curves. Jobs are a plus (and sometimes a must) but are hardly why you are where you are. Friends are close, because you see them 0ver 53% of any given day. You can be a few minutes late to things and be ok. All your bills are condensed into “room an board”.

Out of school, what I’ve been able to glean so far, is this: no one tells you what to expect from yourself. No one is going to hit your bed and remind you that “you have work today!” You aren’t guaranteed any easy common ground with people. A job is a must (and sometimes a plus) and is often why you are where you are. You don’t have skips. You have no grading curve; you get a paycheck. Friends are hard to figure out, because you see them less than 20% of any given week. You live more by the week than by the semester. Your next meal depends on you, and possibly solely on your cooking abilities, which might actually be WORSE than a cafeteria’s food. You will be confused by all the mail having to do with this money you apparently “owe” people, like banks and loan offices.

Honestly, school was fun, but I am becoming a fan of the spontaneity and the unknown. It brings out your character a lot more, along with its flaws. But, how else will we grow up?

The Lies We Hear

I’ve been reading a book lately, entitled: Invisible War. by Chip Ingram.

It’s essentially a breakdown of the Armor of God as it’s listed in Ephesians 6. What he’s done is break down and apply the Armor, not in deeper, more complex metaphors or exercises (I mean, seriously, we don’t need more flannel-graph pictures of a cartoon dude who is literally wearing armor), but in a simple, understandable way. Along the way, he also points out more, through his story (and others’) about the attacks, schemes, and methods that the enemy has used to attack the Church since Eden.

So, here’s a testimony of one of those attacks…

While a few people might remember, from my old blog (which no longer exists) back in January of this year, it seemed like I caved in spiritually. While I didn’t tell many people, I had this agonizing fear that I really wasn’t saved. Weird, right? A guy who’s spent the last 3.5 years studying the Bible, being in ministry, going on mission trips, serving in leadership, and suddenly he’s afraid it’s all been a sham?

First off, I know that that’s happened before. And that’s what brought a sense of reality to my fear: Some men have diligently served “the church” who really were never a part of The Church. The Body of Jesus Christ, which is being built into a spiritual house among the Saints, who have been redeemed by the blood of the Lamb, and have been raised to new life with Jesus Christ. (Just a quick shout out, I got a bit giddy at typing that out. It brings excitement to know that Christ bought me with His life, because He loved me. I’m glad the doubt has been beaten back so much!)

Well to save time, here’s what happened. I was driving back to campus to begin my last semester. I had an impactful experience at the Passion Conference, and was pumped to be a part of what God was going to do on campus. In the car, I listened to a sermon, where a couple stories were shared about deacons. Deacons, who had served the local church, sacrificed for her, spent their lives building her up… and came to find out that they had never known the Spirit. That the Spirit had never come to reside within them, and that they were unsaved(!). At that moment, my brain crashed. I went wide-eyed. My thought was, “If they could serve like that for so long, how in the world can *I* have confidence? There’s no way!… Do I have a portion in heaven? Is the Spirit really in me!?”

I panicked. I was a mess when I arrived on campus. For anyone who noticed that last semester, I fell off the face of the school map. I hardly went to the cafeteria, because I was afraid to talk to anyone about my fears. The few I did talk to did their honest best, and I was not nearly as thankful as I should have been for their love, concern and encouragement. The semester continued to go down hill, with distractions, laziness, sin, and depression. My grades started to fall. Despair crept into my thoughts, and my hopes for seminary felt like a horribly bad joke. I continued to serve with a smile, and do my best to cover the damage. I felt like I couldn’t serve, like I shouldn’t minister, that I had failed as a senior, and ultimately, I DID fail. Well, almost. I got a “D” in greek instead of the “C” I needed in order to graduate. So, last minute, through the abounding grace and loving compassion of my professors, they put together a special “Liberal Arts Degree” for me, and I graduated with emphases in Bible, Christian Ministry, and Theatre. Seriously, that happened 3 weeks before I walked across the stage. I am forever in the debt of Hannibal LaGrange University’s Bible professors.

But, back to the point. The enemy had lied to my heart. He took the opportunity to drive a HUGE wedge of doubt, distrust and fear into my heart, which was honestly, irrational. I got a few really close friends worried and hurt over my sudden doubting. While the community sought to love me in ways they knew how, I ran from much of the community I needed. It took months to finally regain some solid footing, and for that distrust to be resolved and healed… But man! You never know how badly you needed the armor of God until you can look back at a time in your life where you were being pushed about by every fear and doubt, like waves on the sea.

Just fyi, I am back on solid footing in my faith. There is no doubt of the Spirit’s work/presence/intentions/grace in my life. The battle is more real than it ever has been, however, because the Spirit has given me eyes to see the enemy more clearly, and the truth more accurately. There are lies still being confronted, and I am much more immature than I want to admit (and, honestly, more so than I will probably sound in my writing… just, take my word for it. I’m immature). I feel more broken NOW than I have in a very. Long. Time. And it’s all for the glory of God, to build me into His workmanship, and for Him to minister to His Church.

Here is my encouragement to you…

The Whole Armor of God

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication.