Here of all places

I don't know what to say. I'm in the middle of the most amazing season of seeking and prayer. I was in a youth camp last weekend that blew my mind and filled me with Holy Spirit fire, and last night when I met for prayer with my friends who recently returned from some intense Mardi Gras ministry, I thought the place was going to explode.

Two years of seeking, and finally we're beginning to see fruit.

I've never been here before, so close to the Christianity I only read about and finally wise enough to withstand the attacks that daily threaten to douse our passion. Fast, pray and meditate on the Scripture.

So, that's about it. I'm ruined for this world. People don't get it unless they're living it. Maybe, you would. Maybe, not.

Me: I just want Jesus.

It's true: I still believe

As I was telling a fellow believer about everything God did in my life and the lives of my friends and students at our winter retreat last weekend, he surprised me by saying, "I had you pegged wrong."

"How did you peg me?" I asked.

"Well, sometimes people who study journalism are a bit cynical."

It's true (I once was), but I'm not (anymore).

Been there, done that. Ya' gotta believe!

Favor

We have favor [fey-ver] the state of being approved or held in regard: to be in favor at court.

MOVE BEYOND:

Euphoria is the temporary response of pleasure chemicals in the brain.  They are seratonin (happy) and dopamine (pleasure).  Overreliance on chemicals as a means to gauge or further any relationship is a bad thing.   

Thanks to my friend, Mark for reminding me about euphoria. 

In a relationship with God, this plays out in a practical way.  If we're in prayer or worship, often we wait for the "feeling" to hit before we know God accepts us unconditionally, and then we can begin to pour our hearts out.  We don't pour out a "sacrifice of praise" until the spiritual matches the physical. So, we're sitting around, waiting for something to happen. 

key point:  there's a difference between waiting on God and waiting for something to happen.

REMEMBER:

We serve a God who is "turned on" by sacrifices.  The one did not change, the one who enveloped the Israelites with a dark cloud. But, now, when we approach him, we feel empty-handed.  We feel nothing.  This is quite wrong.

In fact, when we take our family to the Church, when we go to the prayer meeting, when we enter our secret place, God sees a sacrifice (not in the metaphorical sense-- in the sense that he is looking for blood) greater than one he has ever seen.  He sees Jesus.

TWO-BUTTON SUITS, PEWS AND POWER POINTS DO NOT NEGATE THE FACT THAT OUR GOD HAS A WAY HE LIKES TO DO THINGS THAT IS AT ONCE REAL AND RIGHT WHERE WE LIVE.  THE OLD WAYS OF WORSHIPPING GOD ARE NOT LOST TO ANTIQUITY.  ALTHOUGH CHRIST WAS THE ULTIMATE SACRIFICE, YAHWEH STILL LOVES A HEART THAT OFFERS TO HIM A SACRIFICE!

DON'T WAIT:

Pentecostal prayers have very good "feelers", but sometimes we must take our sacrifice and believe that it is good.  We must "live" the sacrifice.  Here is a verse that sums it up.   

Hebrews 13:15 (New International Version)

 ¹⁵Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise—the fruit of lips that confess his name.

The author of Hebrews, perhaps Paul, Apollos or someone else, had grown up so Jewish that he or she got this right way.  To catch up, it's taken me some time and probably some revelation, but I don't claim that level of inspiration.

Not when the book is open and free . . .

Blood

This country was written in blood.  A disenchanted and idealistic cadre of patriots banded together to rebel against the Motherland. They signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well capture by the King would result in death by hanging.  Not bloody, but certainly final.

The Kingdom of God was also written in blood.

Beginning with the precedent of animal sacrifice as a means for remission of sins, and continuing with bloody and painful male circumcision as a rite of "otherness" that separated the "real" Jews from the "pretenders," blood was the currency for substitution and identity.

It's no surprise that the purest and most powerful substance in the universe is the precious blood of the Son of God.  He who knew no sin became sin for us.  

THERE IS ONE GATEWAY TO GOD.

He took the form of a man, with atria, ventricles and arteries, a perfectly-functioning body that would one day be riddled with fatal damage imposed by the brutal Roman custom of crucifixion.

As the sons and daughters of the original American patriots continued to shed blood far past the days of the Revolution, so the Kingdom of God advanced beyond the Resurrection.

For either kingdom, victory doesn't come cheap, does it? 

What allegiance does the believer owe to this nation-state, the land of the free and the home of the brave?  I wish I knew for sure.    

But I do know what allegiance the believer owes the cross.

EVERYTHING. 

How to Ride a Bike

Author's Note: I'm printing an excerpt from my Internship Journal.  I intern for Venture Expeditions in Burnsville, MN, where I do copywriting, editing and PR for the national cross-country cyclotour The Ride Well Tour.  

Sometimes strength isn’t what you do, but how you do it.  

Take professional bike riders, like the guys who do the Tour de France.  They are, spandex leggings and all, amazingly tough.  They climb relentlessly, descend daringly and, sometimes, leave their skin all over the pavement, as a pricey payment for one little wrong move.  The Tour is the greatest test of endurance on the planet.  

But some Tour professionals complain their way through most of the tour, even bordering on neurosis on details as small as the weight of their custom-designed road bicycle.  “My bike is too heavy” “I’m not getting enough help from my teammates” “My bike is too heavy” “I’m tired” “My bike is too heavy” “I hurt all over” “I’m quitting after I’m done” "Who made this bike so #$%^ heavy!"  

The people I really admire in the Tour are unheralded workhorses like “Big George” Hincapie (pictured above with Lance Armstrong) who, for many years, sheltered “stars” like Lance Armstrong from the wind and attacks on the Yellow jersey by other teams. 

This blog is less an ode to the B-team and more a reminder that living isn’t a series of “whats” as much as a choice of “hows”.  

Acting bravely and cheerfully in the face of insurmountable odds isn’t the best way to go about life.  For a Christian, living for the glory and service of the Risen Lord Jesus, it’s the only way.

Old College Try: Subzero Edition

I've spent the last 24 hours running from a certain sepulchre of arctic cold.

Yesterday, I drove to work (Menards) in Easter-like temps-- 40 degrees and bare spots showing in the melting parking lot.

Too good to be true.  Five hours pass, and Hurricane Winter arrives.  The parking lot is REAL FROZEN, and my unit (now payroll-restricted to two people-- me and a manager) is ordered to fix it.  

I'm hunched over the steering wheel of a lift truck.  My eyes are stinging.  My body is threatening to go blue and die.  My manager is taking shovelfuls of salt and flinging them on the newly-formed ice glaze.  I'm laughing, because I do enjoy weather terror.  We tossed 600 pounds of salt in an hour or so, him chucking and trying not to slip, and me wondering how much I can laugh before he wonders what's so funny about driving a forklift.

I punch out at 7:22, still covered in salt the wind had beaten into the threads in my corduroys and hoodie.

Now, I'm at Wal-Mart, trying to find Target shoppers who migrated on price to the "other place."  I find one in the camera department.  He has the "look" of an urbane Target shopper. He also has an obsession with the display models.  He holds his security-tethered camera like an artifact, at arms length, determined to decipher its complexities.

As a retailer, any retail news tends to sink in a bit more.

"When the bottom begins to fall, price-point retailers become a haven for penny pinchers."  This is all the retail beatwriters can write anymore, so if you've read the business page once this quarter, you're already sick of it.  Wal-Mart is finally beating Target.  Again.  After four years of the Bullseye Brigade, the recession has put a damper on Target's overachieving. 

Don't worry.  There's always Spam to put Minnesota back on the map.  You may not have heard, but the Minnesota-based Hormel plant has been running overtime shifts for months.  Spam sales follow an inverse relation to the strength of the economy.

After the mini-blizzard, I finally made it home to spend a bit of time with my friend, Ryan.

We enjoy a bit of cinematic malpractice, courtesy of the much-hated director Uwe Boll.  Jason Statham leads as "Farmer" in In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale.  It's a terribly-made movie based on a video game.  It's either the DVD or the production, but the audio is so bad in spots that my buddy thinks I'm farting and not saying anything.  You must see a Uwe Boll before you die.  

On the way back to drop off Ryan at his place, the inside of the windshield ices up, save for 4 "portholes" where the defroster blows.  It reminds me of the Day After Tomorrow.

The drive continues.  Stopped by flashing red lights and crossing arms, I stretch my gloved hand out the window to wave to a train conductor, who I imagine must be a bit lonely.  We are two souls lost in the frost.

Farther west on Main Street, an umbrella-toting madman makes a run for my car.  At first I figured he was suicidal, but then I realized the windblocking umbrella also blocks 100% of his vision.  Genius.  I stop him with my horn and keep driving.

They say it's going to be record-setting cold tonight.  It's just another day for these Minnesotans, of whom I seem to fit with rather well. 

Be smart.  Leave yourself options to stay alive.  Cold like this kills and maims.

It's -6F now.  

Booyakasha, that's low!

 

Decision Speed (When you absolutely must take off)

Hello! You have found the second chapter in a unique note series on slaying apathy in the world. Decision Speed is a concept I'm beginning to execute after several months of intense soul searching-- not fun, but it was worth it. I invite you to come along with me as I write my magnum opus after too many years of university training (Tommy Boy territory- eek! but the end is nearing) and respond to God's pressing call on my heart to find others who feel likewise and strategize for the future. I've chosen Facebook as my medium, because everyone is here. As for me, I'm a journo major and a thinker. I read way too much and occasionally pop outside my cave for a good dose of outdoors. Basically, Decision Speed is what I was made to write. Don't care? Then, the first blog is for you. MY PROMISE: Like an antique show in Tokyo, I'll blend the old and the new, the historical and the futuristic. I won't lie-- these are blogs about social change. Even if you hate change, if you have even the loosest affiliation with Jesus or church, I believe you'll want to hear what I have to say. I am no stranger to the art of publishing-- I just hope I can keep your interest long enough to get to the good stuff. I have little desire to publish or to be heard online-- in fact, I prefer coffee shop discussions with good friends. Although I've written a few blogs, I haven't organized my ideas around a central concept like Decision Speed. In fact, it is the dire situation that has brought me into the court of Internet opinion. If you didn't know, decision speed is the predetermined airspeed which a pilot knows he must pull on the yoke and put his plane in the air. Below decision, you stay on the runway and slam on the brakes. Above decision, you must fly. I am writing this series because I have reached the point in my life where I can no longer slam on the brakes. I know many are arriving here as well. We are go for takeoff. I have a burning desire to tell the truth-- and once chance to do it. Quickly, I'd like to say thanks for browsing. I love to hear from people who agree, disagree, or who just enjoy writing things in boxes. It's best to start with The Gate, which serves as a precursor to this series. If you've interacted with that note, you've seen how caring is daring and have begun to consider your own life. Many of us are pushed to the limit with family, work and a myriad of social commitments. We are busy. We guard our time! Yet, you read on, cautiously, because you're waiting for the slaying I promised. You're waiting for something decisive to come and blast the stupid out of this messed-up world. Get ready for football metaphors. You're waiting for a touchdown or a turnover. But it's HALFTIME. Welcome to Decision Speed. In Decision Speed, I'll tell the score (hint: a few field goals won't get us back in this one) and why our game plan absolutely must change for the second half of the game. After this chapter, I promise I'm done with football metaphors. Go [insert your favorite playoff team here]! Your faithful culture wonk, Andrew