Stupid Waa-Waa Man

Here I sit, mindlessly scrolling web pages looking for an answer. The answer is something deep within me that is calling.

Sounds deep doesn't it? Of course it is, I said that it is "deep" within me, do it's deep. (I'm not a deep writer, so bear with me.) I can't always put a finger on this call, so for now I will call it "God restlessness".

I struggle with this a lot. Nothing seems to satisfy. My Bible sits untouched, brooding. I plan, I plot and I scramble to come up with something that will answer this deep calling.

Why in the world do I look for accomplishments and stuff to find my answer? World stuff looks so shiny! Like forbidden fruit it looks so good. So I bite, chomp and shove the world stuff deep into my mouth... Filling but always hungry.

And somewhere in my heart there's a magnetic pull toward God. One of it's clearest signals to me is this restlessness and unquenchable thirst/hunger. If I'm not restless when I'm wasting time and being irresponsible, there's something wrong with me.

The world tells us to fill up, that this restlessness is a bad thing. Something we should avoid at all costs.

This morning I wonder. And since everything the "world" seems to tell us is wrong, I think that restlessness is a sign of something good occuring.

Tired, restless, hungry, thirsty - aren't they all prerequisites for a feast, a party and a really, really good time.

One of my favorite things to do, after a really good bike ride, a soccer game or some very intense ping-pong, is to swing by 7-Eleven and drink deep from their fountains of delight. My favorite fountain is the one that burps out my beloved Slurpee - mostly Coke with a little Cherry. It's heaven in my mouth. Ice melts on my tongue, weary bones rejoice and my brain which is telling me how bad this is for me and blah, blah, blah - begins to freeze. I love this. If you have seen the movie "Incino Man," I want "wheeze the juice!"

So what if God is our fountain, calling to the deep dry wells in our souls? Calling us to come and fill our wells. Or what if he's our food, calling us to feast? What if life is a lot simpler than we make it? What if life is just God-filling?

Every day this is the battle that rages within me. Not to be dramatic, but it is. I want stuff. God wants me.

I am "Stupid Waa-Waa Man". God knows my cry. And man if he isn't the most patient God in the world. Of course, being the only God in the world, he could be very impatient and still be the "most patient", but thankfully he's not.

"Deep calls to deep at the rush of your waterfalls..." - somewhere in my Bible that's still looking at me. "Stop it Bible, you don't even have eyes!"

Run For Your Life!

I sit here dazed, not knowing really even why I'm writing. Perhaps it's because I've been reading some other blogs with billions of followers and am feeling a little jealous. Perhaps it's because I just don't want to read my Bible that's sitting in front of me. Or perhaps it's just me being me. I don't know...

But one thing I do know, sometimes I've got to write because something good is about to happen. OK, maybe something sort of decent or legible. But I actually meant something along the lines of sorting out some new difficulty or challenge that me being a sin-crazed maniacal Christian living in a dangerous world has posed.

Yesterday I spent running. Not really sinning per-se. But running. Moving fast. Trying not to think too hard. Being besett by brain-movements, I needed to escape.

I literally did. Skipping out early on work, I ran to the Ocoee, which is about an hour outside of Chattanooga and hit some of the trails with my bike and then had a refreshing swim in the river. It was totally sweet.

But even as I sit hear writing, I'm dodging. I should be in a men's group meeting right now, but I've opted out for some "time with the Lord" and a fruit smoothie. Sometimes it takes this boy a long time to recharge. But I suspect that more often than not I make poor decisions when it comes to resting.

In fact I find it all a little depressing and a pain to write about. It's not like recharging is a crime or anything. Sometimes I feel like it is. Especially since I absolutely love to recreate. Honestly, I think I could recreate all the time and be fine with it, other than the horrible emptiness that would eventually hit me of knowing that I was simply living for me, turning into a monster.

This whole missionary-raising support full-time is a joke. Nobody but super-manic freaks could do this full-time. It's not that what I'm called to do is the problem. It's just that I'm not sure human beings can handle so much constant rejection (albeit perceived), fear and dependancy.

But I guess it's good right? Loving God and loving people isn't supposed to be easy, and I can't think of any more challenging place for me to be right now than to be constantly asking people to "give me there money" (that's the way it feels).

So hey, this was pretty random right? Maybe it was worth the read. And I like it because for once I'm not summarizing on a positive note. I like switching things up a bit. But I will say this, for all my running and running of the mouth, I am so glad we serve a God who pursues. It's a real comfort.

God-Bugs

"Jesus answered, 'Are there not twelve hours in the day? If anyone walks in the day, he does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world.'"

I stared at the clock clicking softly. It's soothing cadence had me mesmerized. "Time," I thought, "is almost slowed to a stop when we watch it."

Of course I don't usually have such deep thoughts without anesthesia, and this moment was no different. Having have numerous surgeries, I've had many "deep" thoughts - like "Since my head feels like a pancake, will I still like waffles?"

Yet few of these thoughts stand the test of time. The thought I had on time above[after an unusually short (for me)shoulder-surgery] has stuck with me. And time is a weird thing isn't it? We never have enough of it when we're doing something we love, when we're in pain it feels like forever and when we're anticipating something good or bad it simply stops. Time can be kind of a jerk.

That's why I'm grateful that Jesus addresses time when his disciples question his sanity in returning to Jerusalem (where Pharisees with big muscles wanted to play dodge-rock). I know I would have questioned his sanity a lot. Like "Jesus, have you ever been checked for Palestinian God-Bugs?"

An Early Palestinian God-Bugs Definition out of The Early Palestinian Dictionary of Things You Should Know Don't Exist says: "... once inhabiting their host, God-Bugs turn the host's eyes blue and hair blond, and convince the host that he is God. The bugs also are known to work miracles, like flawless complexion and the occasional walk across water."

But going back to Jesus' statement on time. He simply answers the disciples fear with "Aren't their just 12 hours in a day? And aren't you with me, the light?" I love it. Jesus sees through their fears for him for what they are, fears for themselves.

Self-preservation can kill you. At least it can kill your faith. And Jesus is reminding his followers that a life of faith is as simple and beautifully complex as walking with him. And that in this walk with Christ, time holds no real fears.

And this isn't simply because Jesus had God-Bugs.

Fred the Ugly Iguana: Thoughts on Psalm 138

Here I sit at my favorite coffee shop again, wondering where today's adventure in writing will take me. I'm never sure...

I could write about how I just blew an hour of work looking at mountain bike parts I could never afford. When I'm tempted to look at mountain bike parts, I'm like a monkey who's just been introduced to banana chips. But I don't feel like castigating myself for my irresponsibility and you'd probably not enjoy reading it. Even though I deserve some castigation, it gets me nowhere and gives me headaches.

I could write about how God is teaching me to be patient. How I'm growing in patience as I wait on him to provide funds and contact individuals to partner with us in ministry. But being as I've been hesitant to call people the past couple of days, and I'm not very patient right now, I'm not going to.

I could write a day in the life of Fred the Ugly Iguana, but while I'm sure it'd be exciting, I don't know anything about Iguanas really. Wow, I'm being really vulnerable today.

OK, so I'll read my Bible for a while...

Here's something. Something a little more relevant. Something for days like this when my faith is shrunken to the size of a small pea (not the big ones injected with hormones that Melissa warns me against). Something for guys like me who struggle with really-tiny-minuscule-little-person faiths (or iguana faiths I don't want to leave you out Fred).

"On the day I called, you answered me; my strength of soul you increased."

I forget that faith is a gift, not something I have to give to God. It's to be asked for and received. And our father loves nothing better to give us faith, as well as constant thoughts about iguanas named Fred.

I'm so mixed up by this. It seems that my lack of faith keeps me from asking for faith, because I just don't have faith that God will give me faith. "I've tried it," I say to myself.

The truth is that I have more faith in me than in God. After all, even as I pick at the blister on my hand, I'm made of flesh, bone and blisters. I can see me. I can handle me.

Can I handle me? Not really. My instincts are always all in the wrong directions. I don't trust me. While I'm not going to go rob a bank (even though that would make me feel super-cool and would definitely be on my list of things to do if I wasn't so inhibited by my culture) and while I'm not going to buy a pet tiger (like the guy last night on animal planet who got eaten, surprise surprise), my instincts do seem to go in directions that could be best described as "curious." I do not handle myself well.

Left to myself I search the internet for banana chips, I mean bicycle parts. I rarely want to be about the business of work. Work is restrictive, uncomfortable and just not me centered enough. Why can't work get in line?

All of the above is why I found this verse so encouraging today. With all the roller-coaster thoughts derailing and exploding in my head, faith, real faith and strength of soul is promised to those who ask.

"For though the LORD is high, he regards the lowly"

I'm definitely low. Enslaved to stuff I've been freed from. I hate that verse about the dog returning to his vomit. I'm always like "Yup, that's me."

I think God knows this. He's super-omniscient-present-knowing-stuff. Come to think of it God could be the ultimate black-mailer. Thankfully he's not. "He regards the lowly."

"The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O LORD, endures forever. Do not forsake the work of your hands."

Wow! That about takes my faith problem biscuit. And I hope it encourages you. I'm going to call out to God now. Not too loud though, because I'm in a coffee shop. Cultural inhibitions again. Maybe I'll go by the bank and do it.