tattoo #3 - momentum

An arrow draws from the tension of the bowstring to launch forward. Likewise, our circumstances, both past and present, positive and negative, can be used to direct and prepare us for our journey. That's why the overall design of my newest tattoo that I just got last fall resembles an arrow, as a reminder that tensions in life can serve as momentum to move forward. God redeems all things, including our experiences. Each moment is a gift, and where we have BEEN equips us for where we ARE; here and now. 

In the center of the image, there are fragments of a compass and a clock, symbolizing the importance of mindfulness in the moment, being present, and making the most of divine appointments. The experiences that led us to this moment also prepared us for it; if it's to weather a storm or to be a haven for someone else in the midst of a tempest. 

As a nod to my wife Kimberly, born on March 18th, the clock is set to 3:18. Time shared with her is a blessing, and my life is so much more fulfilling with her in it. The head of the arrow is a lion, symbolizing Christ and resurrection, as well as strength and courage. The arrow shaft is the coordinates to my parents' farm in IN, where they raised me and still live today. The value of compassion they instilled in me remains as a guide. 

Lastly, the overall design is in honor and gratitude of our dear friend, Marva Diana Rhea. She was a gift to us, and I have very distinct memories of her encouraging me in my work with at-risk youth. Although already in the field, her untimely death led me to dig my heels in and strive to make a greater impact. Losing her to domestic violence is a difficult memory, but it's integral to where I am today. One common interest Marva and I shared was mythology. We had a conversation once about the Roman goddess Diana, and Marva loved that her middle name was that of a goddess known for her wisdom and strength. As goddess of the hunt, bows and arrows were often used on coins and in temples to represent Diana. Likewise, I've chosen to honor Marva with an arrow because of how she influenced the direction of my life and the momentum her memory gives me.

a living hope

My every need is met, more than adequately.

I am blessed. I know this.

But with risk of sounding like a pharmaceutical ad, depression doesn't discriminate. Depression doesn't care that I have a wonderful marriage, loving parents, amazing friends, and a fulfilling career. Depression certainly doesn't mind how difficult it can make it for me to go out into the world with knots in my stomach, a buzzing of doubts and insecurities cluttering my thoughts, a numbing pain in my heart, and a stiff aching body. Depression couldn't care less about the people depending on me to show up to work each day, or those who've invited me to share life with them.

But thankfully, depression doesn't get to decide my fate. Even when I've lost all sight of light, there is a Living Hope.

Ephesians 2:10 says, "For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God has prepared in advance for us to do."

This verse has a special place in my heart. Its a reminder that, in those times of feeling worthless, I was created with a purpose to share the love of Jesus.

ποίημα is the word used in the original Greek text of this verse to signify a piece of workmanship, like a sculpture or a ballad. In fact, the pronunciation of this word, poiēma, is the root for the English word "poem."

As someone with a passion for songwriting, this concept really resonates in me. Each song I've ever written feels like a piece of who I am; they come from my heart. To think of myself in these terms, as someone the Creator of the universe so lovingly crafted Himself, is a powerful and moving thought. Thats why I had this Greek word tattooed on my wrist a few years ago. I was in a dark place at the time, and struggling to see any sign of hope. When the day came to get this tattoo, I faltered a bit. But within minutes of questioning if this was a sentiment I wanted branded onto my body forever, I received a text from a dear friend sharing this very same verse with me, "For we are God's handiwork..."

Recently, I've found myself in another valley. Depression has weaseled its way back into my life in a way I can't quite seem to shake this time. Months have passed in shadows, with the last couple weeks seeming to be the darkest I've met yet. Again, I know I'm blessed, but reminding myself of that somehow only leads to more shame and darkness. I worry the storm cloud over my head is beginning to wear upon those around me, and all those symptoms of the aforementioned pharmaceutical ad run rampant.

Fortunately, my focus was returned to this powerful verse, "For we are God's handiwork..." in the Orchard Community Church service this morning. I was reminded that I am made alive in God's mercy and grace, and that I've been given a life of purpose. These aren't things I'd forgotten; but a fire needing rekindled.

And although the waters may still remain rough for some time, I know I have a living hope.

And in Him, I Am Alive

The sky turned dark. And rocks split open.

It must have felt as though all hope was lost when the earth itself trembled as Christ took His last breath.

But this was not a cry of despair. Instead, creation shouted in victory. Hope had won, and Love conquered death. Jesus, the son of God, rose from the grave.

Sin was overwhelmed by the ultimate sacrifice. Our ransom was paid in His blood.

The wage of sin is death, but by the grace of God, a promise of eternal life has been made. And the only payment due is surrender; reliance.

"Now this is eternal life - that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you sent." John 17:3

I should always live in gratitude of this, but today, Easter day, my heart wells over. Despite my pursuit of life amongst all that is dead, He has risen. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is the truest source of life, and He has paid the ultimate price.

And in Him, I am alive.

Branches: Beautiful Things

Today marks the end of a chapter we've known as The Branches Church, and if just one picture says a thousand words, then this chapter has been something incredible. From snapshots of sermons and worship services to photographs of friends and family loving one another well, thousands of illustrations bring this story to life. 

Naturally, the end of something so lovely brings sadness; yet there is anticipation for the journey ahead. God is a good author, and just as this chapter has, the next will certainly be full of beautiful things. 

No words can express what a blessing it has been to be written into this story alongside such wonderful people, all by a sovereign God who draws us more near to Him page by page.

Sorting through these through these thousands of pictures has taken many hours of deliberation over the course of the last few weeks. Each one represents a memory so distinct; how can this rich season of life be captured in just a short montage? 

The answer is... it can't.  

More than just an abbreviated summary of the last six years, this 5 minute and 47 second video is a token of gratitude; an expression of deep thanksgiving to God for this chapter and all of the beautiful things He has included in it.

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing." -John 15:5

Joy, Revisited

February 26, 2008. I entered the blogosphere with musings of joy amidst unexpected circumstances. Now here I am, 2,092 posts and hundreds of graphic make-overs later, and I find myself in an eerily similar situation.

Eight years ago, I really stepped into it. I was ambitious and eager. I wouldn't say I have ever been one of those people who just don't know what they don't know, but I was certainly naive to the brutalities of a sharp learning curve.

I wasn't innately equipped for the task at hand. Managing the program and treatment of sexually maladaptive adolescents challenged me in a lot of different ways, but man, God sure did grow me. I received training and support, and I was completely surrounded by inspiring people. When I reflect on that time, names and faces flash through my mind of kids that were impacted by this incredible team of caring, dedicated professionals that I was blessed to join.

Those flashes of fond memories, they're like bursts of light. And with light, there are shadows; heart-wrenching stories, disappointments, endless worry. And defeat; lots of defeat.

But even still, joy.
So much joy.

God led me to a place of contentment. I could feel I was in the center of His will, and out of total desperation, I relied on Him. Hence, joy.

Now, fast forward through the years; a lot of light and many shadows. A couple thousand miles. Different jobs. New names and faces. Many new experiences with a variety of populations.

I am back to that place of being not-quite-equipped in my career; that place of frequent defeat.

My newest job is a living, breathing thing made of lots of different pieces. Some fit better than others. A Frankenstein's monster, patched together in typical non-profit fashion. And I love it.

Over the years, I had forgotten about those brutalities of a sharp learning curve that I mentioned earlier, and the weight of such a great responsibility.

But man, God sure is growing me.

Once again, I find myself in a place where I'm receiving training and support, and I am completely surrounded by inspiring people. When I am mindful of the here and now, names and faces flash through my mind of kids that are currently being impacted by this incredible team of caring, dedicated professionals.

And there is joy.
So much joy.

I just needed to be reminded of it, and to recommit myself to seeking out that joy daily. To be reliant, to laugh when that's all there is to do, and to pray. And as I recommit myself to those things, I'm also going to try something else that was very beneficial for me eight years ago, and for several years following.

Writing. Sharing. Emoting. Creating.

It may or may not stick, but I'm okay with that. That's part of the process, and so is looking back. And that, despite my 16 months of absence, is exactly why I am not scrapping this space to start another.

Joy isn't a place. It's not a circumstance or series of favorable events. It's not a fresh start or a new beginning. 

Joy is a state of being, a mind-frame, a condition of the heart. It's the blessing of reliance and of spiritual surrender. It's found right in the center of God's will.

In gratitude and great love.

Jesus broke bread with whoever offered, sinner or saint, and this included the pharisees.

The pharisees were a nasty bunch, condemning and compassionless, yet somehow they viewed themselves as spiritual leaders. The pharisess didn't like Jesus much because His very nature stood in stark contrast to their own wicked ways, and so, they were always scheming of how to make Jesus look bad.

One day, one of these pharisees invited Jesus to his home. As Jesus reclined at the table, a sinful woman appeared to him. I'm not sure how, but this woman somehow recognized Jesus as her Savior. She wept at his feet, wetting them with tears and drying them with her hair as she applied fine oils to his weathered skin. 

The pharisee was disgusted by this display, and demanded to know how Jesus, one so holy, could possibly allow a woman of such sin to even come near him.

And Jesus' response?

It rocked. He said...

“A certain moneylender had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he cancelled the debt of both. Now which of them will love him more?”

Naturally, the pharisee responded that the man with the greatest debt forgiven would love the lender most. Jesus told him he was correct, then continued...

“Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much"

And here's the best part...

"... But he who is forgiven little, loves little.”

That's the boom right there.

Sometimes we skew faith, overlooking the depth of love for Jesus that a new believer, or maybe a believer with a 'past,' may really have. We try to equivocate a squeeky clean life with closeness to God, when really it's our love and faith for God that draws us near to Him.

The greater the debt forgiven, the greater the love for the lender.
And aren't we all in such great debt?

But the pharisee's greatest faux pas, in my opinion, wasn't just how he dismissed the sinful woman, it was how he overlooked his own sinful nature. He failed to recognize and appreciate the forgiveness and mercy being offered to him. He foolishly thought he was too good to need that forgiveness.

Clearly, he needed transformed.
Just as I. And just as you.

And so I challenge myself today, and anyone who may come across this, to cast away our  pride and be less like a pharisee, acting more like the woman in these verses, throwing ourselves at the feet of Jesus, knowing that this is exactly where we belong.

In gratitude and great love.
Luke 7:36-49

growing

It's a whole new side to her, and I love it.

Her garden.
Her herbs.
Her plants.

Checking them everyday. Watering them. Weeding, and pruning. Her hands in the dirt.

It's a reflection of something that's changed in her over the years, something I can't quite describe.

A certain maternalness.
It's beautiful and somehow worshipful.

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." -Philippians 4:8

made anew

"1 Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. 2 Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin! 3 For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. 4 Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight, so that you may be justified in your words and blameless in your judgment. 5 Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me. 6 Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being, and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart. 7 Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. 8 Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that you have broken rejoice. 9 Hide your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities. 10 Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. 11 Cast me not away from your presence, and take not your Holy Spirit from me. 12 Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit. 13 Then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will return to you. 14 Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God, O God of my salvation, and my tongue will sing aloud of your righteousness. 15 O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise. 16 For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it; you will not be pleased with a burnt offering. 17 The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise."

Psalm 51

by grace

Yeah, but...

She has no place to go. Tomorrow, she'll be out on the streets.

"Yeah, but she really hasn't worked that hard here. Plus, she's rude."

She saw her own son die on the news.

"Yeah, but he had to be doing something bad and she knows it, too.

I have been overwhelmed this week by 'yeah-but-statements.'

These compassion-less comments are truly heartbreaking, both for the people these remarks are directed towards as well as those saying them.

Compassion fatigue is real, which only proves that it's not in our human nature to be close to the brokenhearted. When we tend to the hurting for long periods of time, something happens in us. A jadedness takes over and skews our perspective. Things get dark.

But it is in God's nature.

He is close to the brokenhearted.
And saves the crushed in spirit.
And yet He, Himself, is never broken.

God calls us to be compassionate, to love on those who are hurting, but He also calls us to rely on Him. We can do all things in Him, even things that are against our nature, but when we attempt to work alone, things like these 'yeah-but-statements' begin to happen. We reach a point where we just can't continue on and be effective.

It's a major problem in the helping profession, and in life in general: people trying to fix other people all on their own accord, when really it's God's work.

God is good.

He is good to us.
He is good to others.

And He's always near when we seek Him.
No "yeah-but" about it.

So the next time you think you're going to do something good for someone, do yourself and them a favor.
Seek God first.

the lens of gratitude

I've been feeling a little sorry for myself.
Scratch that. I've been feeling really sorry for myself.

Although my competency exam was not a complete disaster, it didn't go quite like I had hoped. Meanwhile, some sudden scheduling complications threaten to postpone my program completion and graduation another semester beyond what I've been expecting. Sprinkle in a few other unremarkable problems that would lengthen this post past the two-hundred-word-limit I've given myself, and you've got a snapshot of my pity party.

But man, I'm blessed.

With a lot of support from a lot of great people and some tough love from my wife, I've (mostly) shaken the blues.

These problems are small compared to many others', and God is big. When I focus on just how big God is, when I concentrate on who He is and how He blesses me, my outlook changes.

I see smiles and laughter, valleys and mountains, encouragement and community, the beauty of creation, and the thrill of hope. And somehow, looking back, the past three days seem a whole lot different...

free

She smiled compassionately as she chuckled, giving me the look you'd give a child who is scared of the monster under his bed.

"It's guilt. You always feel guilty. What is this guilt? It's the most useless emotion. Once people realize they can use this against you, they control you without even knowing they're doing it."

I listened as she spoke, feeling like a bug under her microscope, tiny and helpless as I underwent her inspection. Although her words came from a place of care, they had a sting to them, a hint of truth. There is something in this brain that render's me incapable of saying "no" and is always searching for ways to compensate for my shortcomings, feeling as though I've somehow inconvenienced others by simply being, therefore "owing" them.

It wasn't something I wanted to discuss, and especially not with her, but I didn't want to be disrespectful. After all, there is a power differential here. She is my clinical supervisor; a doctor with many years of experience and great influence over my future. This very nature of mine, the guilt that she had gently indicated being so problematic in my life, was the very thing that held my lips in a complacent smile as she spoke. What could I say?

And then she continued...

"It's because you believe in God. So of course you have to feel guilty. It's one of the goddamn rules of believing in God. It's useless. This is the root of all your problems."

I was shocked. I couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth.
Even more, I couldn't believe the lack of words coming out of mine.

The sting only intensified as days passed.
I asked for forgiveness for my lack of conviction.

But since, I've decided something.

I won't feel guilty for biting my tongue.
I know the truth. My belief in God does not bind me to guilt.

It frees me of it.

She once said that over these past several months she has had more conversations with me about the "Christian God" than she's ever had before. Because of her cultural background and her atheist beliefs, most people who call themselves Christians have steered away from these conversations with her. She wants to know why I'm different than others, even asking me, "Why are you SO nice?"

The truth is, I'm not. I am not SO nice. I just do my best to glorify God, failing daily, but continuing on. And I whole-heartedly believe that allowing her to present her doubts and questions while still showing her respect and living in Truth has had an impact somehow.

I know the truth. My belief in God does not bind me to guilt.

It frees me of it.

And I believe, one day, her belief in God will free her.

empty assurance

It was garbage day and the trucks had already been by. I was rolling our trash cans from the curbside back to the garage when I heard a clatter down by my feet. I looked down to see that my inhaler had fallen from my pocket onto the pavement. I quickly snatched it up and stowed it back into my pocket before parking the trash cans in their designated spot, then I hopped into my car to drive to work.

I was about halfway to my destination when I started to feel a little wheezy. Now, I don't know about other asthmatics, but for me, this feeling is usually accompanied by a twinge of anxiety. But as I looked at the passenger-side seat where my inhaler now sat, I instantly felt a sense of reassurance.

That anxiety, the sense of urgency and panic, all abated with the sight of a bright red canister. But as I lifted the mouthpiece to take that first glorious hit, I realized this beautiful bright red canister was... just a canister. As I bewilderedly riffled through the console, cup holders, and floor boards of my car, the cartridge was no where to be seen...

All I had was empty assurance. I slowly realized that the cartridge had fallen out of the canister when I dropped it on the pavement earlier.

Fortunately, I wasn't too winded and I made it to work safely where the nurse had a spare inhaler in the office I could use. Everything was fine, but what a frightening feeling that was to have so much confidence in something, just to realize it was completely useless! But isn't that how we live our lives? Don't we seek reassurance from empty things; healthcare coverage, money, personal belongings, indulgences, psychology and self-help? I don't believe that there's anything wrong with these things, but it's important to remember that these things are hollow shells. There is no life in them, and they will not sustain us alone. It's in the way we receive these things that truly brings reassurance; when we see beyond the gifts to look into the face of the Giver.

I don't want to be the kind of person that gets a sense of relief from the sight of bright red plastic. Instead, I want to be the kind of person that gets a sense of relief in knowing that I serve and am loved by a big, all-powerful God who heals and comforts us, and inspires earthly physicians to create miraculous things like Albuteral inhalers. I long to develop a faith so powerful that every time I remember my God, I instantly feel peace. 

I want to live in true assurance. 
Every. Single. Day. 
And why shouldn't I?

"13 When you were dead in your sins and in the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, 14 having canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it away, nailing it to the cross. 15 And having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross." -Colossians 2:13-15

the challenge of peace

"Do you think that's just a way to make life easy?" she asked. I had never really considered it that way before, and had I been asked by someone else, I may have been offended. There was something sharp in her tone, but it wasn't contempt; it was more like a longing for understanding, an unsettledness.

She wanted answers to all the hard questions, the "what-about's" and "how-come's."

And she wanted to know how I reconcile all these within myself; unanswered questions, occasional doubts, personal struggles, true belief and acceptance, and difficulty understanding. "I do have those moments," I said, "And I think all believers do from time to time. When I struggle with understanding or am having a hard time accepting something, I pray for peace over it. I'm learning to accept I won't always understand."

"Peace?" she was nearly exasperated. That's when she asked if this so-called "peace" was really just an easy way of escaping life's toughest questions.

The truth is, peace requires daily surrender. It's so freely given, yet not easily accepted. It not only seems to go against our human nature, it clashes fiercely with the cultural climate of this Information Era where "knowledge" is power, science reins, truth is proved through measurable means, and morals are subjective. Praying for peace is acknowledging there are some things in life that are just beyond you're grasp.

Peace is a choice made over and over again. It's a gift from God, an answered prayer, and yes, it does make life easier.  But accepting this peace, living in it, surrendering to it and choosing it daily, may be one of the most difficult feats in life. Yet this peace transcends all things; the questions and doubts, the anxieties, even the ridicule you'll receive for openly admitting you're in need of it.

Life is hard. God wants you to have peace.
He's waiting to give it to you; that's the easy part.

Accepting it is the challenge.

"6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." -Philippians 4:6-7