what. a. month.

This past month has been amazing, and that adjective itself fails to encapsulate all I feel behind my ribs. Things with Mandy are going great. I love her, I really do. There’s no doubt or question in my mind that I love her. It isn’t a sophomoric love, nor is it a euphoric love (though there is indeed much joy, smiling, and a glowing and growing affection). This love goes beyond anything I’ve “felt” before, giving birth to an immovable and irrevocable determination to share life with her, serve with her, lead her and love her, even to die to myself for her benefit and well-being. Our relationship is so phenomenal not simply because I’m actually with her (after five years of hoping and praying, not a day passes when it doesn’t feel surreal in the best possible way), but also because our relationship is so different than any relationship I’ve been in before. We’re keeping Christ at the center of our relationship, praying together, reading scripture together, learning together, growing together. It’s beautiful, it’s awesome, so rich and so meaningful. This feels RIGHT, and I have peace and confidence about it. She’s my best friend, and I love her with everything in me. I want to make memories with her, day after day, and grow old with her, to serve Christ alongside her. And that’s precisely what I’m planning on doing, and the journey is already underway.

I’m moving up to Wisconsin to be with her at the end of this summer (or beginning of autumn; haven’t picked out an exact date yet). I’ve been working as much as possible, picking up permanent shifts here-and-there and gobbling up any open shifts I can find. This week alone I’m working sixteen hours on top of the usual gauntlet. I’m pouring money into my “Go be with Mandy forever” savings account. Moving up there will be amazing, and it will also be the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. But I’m eager to embrace the difficulty for her and for us. I’ve kept her hometown on my weather app, and since I’ve had such difficulty in the arctic temperatures here in Cincinnati, I know it will be more than an adjustment moving into frigid Wisconsin; I saw a map of the United States where each state was named according to its greatest stereotype, and Wisconsin’s name was “COLD”. I have a list of things I’ll have to buy, including double-layered socks, bundles of long-johns, geeky sweaters, and some *fashionable* winter hats (note: I don’t pull off hats very well). I’ll also need to buy a winter coat that doesn’t make me look like a turtle (more for her benefit in social settings than my own preferences). This is what I’m talking about (ca January 2010):

Yeah. NOT fashionable

[existentialism on prom night]

Ams, I'm sure you remember this song.
How could you ever forget it???

When the sun came up, we were sleeping in,
sunk inside our blankets, sprawled across the bed,
and we were dreaming.

There are moments when, when I know it and,
and the world revolves around us.
And we're keeping it, keep it all going,
this delicate balance, vulnerable, all-knowing.

Sing like you think no one's listening.
You would kill for this, just a little bit,
just a little bit, you would kill for this.

Sing me something soft, sad and delicate,
or loud and out of key, sing me anything.
We're glad for what we've got,
done with what we've lost,
our whole lives laid out right in front of us.

(colonial) photo bomb

[sunday meditations]

If we pride ourselves in charitable giving and at the same time ignore a beggar when we have money in our pockets, or if we even refuse to see him as a human being when we don’t, then we’re failing to live like Christ. Justifications abound for not giving money to the beggars on the street, but if we’re justifying why we’re not loving our neighbors as Christians, that should provoke some thought. We don’t know if that haggard, worn out man out on the sidewalk in the freezing cold is going to spend that money on alcohol, and you may not want to help him out if he’s just going to keep messing up and giving in to his addictions, if he’s not going to use your dollar as his first step to a brand new life, so we shrug him off and act as if he doesn’t exist, as if he’s just a part of the fabric of the street.

All I can think is, if God loved me that way, I’d be screwed.

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5.6-8)

Give to the one who begs from you. (Jesus, Matthew 5.42)

from blue ash (IV)

Five inches of snow fell overnight, and I sat in my hobbit hole curled up on the sofa in my pajamas with the fierce wind rattling the windows, incense burning and Mariee Sioux playing over my IPOD dock as I read about Daniel Boone's first days in the Indian hunting ground they called Kan-tuck-kee. Mandy and I talked for an hour and a half before bed, and I love talking with her. She's seriously "out of this world" in so many ways, and I told Dylan, "I'm so grateful to be with someone like her." She always puts a smile on my face, and oftentimes my jaws hurt from laughing so hard. It's that or rickets. Dear God, don't let it be rickets. And the hypochondriac in me takes off!

I've been studying Calvinism a lot over the past week or two, refamiliarizing myself with the doctrine and the arguments. Calvinism is a beautiful systematic theology, it really is, and I find myself drawn to it. The question is, "Why?" It's one thing to ask ourselves what we believe; it's quite another to ask ourselves why we believe it (and the second question may very well be the most important one). In studying these things, I'm asking myself, "Why do I agree or disagree with their interpretations and conclusions? What are my motivations?" No one approaches the scripture tabula rasa, and we carry not only preconceived notions and presuppositions to the text but also inclinations and motivations. We do well to be wary of such things. My slant towards arminianism could very well be motivated by a desire to not rock the boat among my Arminian friends, or to not have to go through all the trouble of rethinking every aspect of my understanding of Christianity, or to hold onto cherished beliefs. Likewise, the attraction of Calvinism could very well be motivated due to a desire to be more "orthodox," in the sense that Calvinism is the breed of Western Christianity that's most prevalent. The draw could even be motivated by a desire to be "like-minded" with those folks up in Wisconsin who tenaciously hold to such convictions. Most of my studying has been focused on what are often considered the "linchpin" issues of election and predestination (interestingly, Calvin himself didn't write a whole lot about the subject; Martin Luther was the pioneer in this Calvinist thought, though he doesn't get the credit). As I wrestle with these subjects, several "points of concern" arise. In brief:

(a) Both systems [Calvinism and Arminianism] came into existence around the 16th century: Calvinism through John Calvin and Martin Luther, and Arminianism through Jacob Arminius.

(b) Both are direct results of the Protestant Reformation and represent Protestantism over against the Catholic Church, emphasizing sola scriptura, sola gratia, and sola fides

'

(c) Both systems understand election (and, consequently, predestination) to be individualistic in nature; both systems were derived during the period immediately following the Black Plague of Europe, which served as a violent transition from a collectivistic (group-focused) understanding of identity to an individualistic understanding of identity, which remains prevalent in western culture today.

(d) Both systems thus understand the New Testament and the Old Testament texts on election to be individualistically focused. And yet historians and biblical scholars agree that individualistic thinking didn't evolve until about 1600 years after the writing of the New Testament; ergo, the New Testament writers couldn't possibly be writing from an individualistic perspective. New Testament authors, thinking in accordance with their collectivistic societies, would've approached such terms as election and predestination from a corporate rather than individualistic perspective. This means, then, that there may be serious error in both Calvinism and Arminianism insofar as the focus is upon individuals rather than groups.

I vividly remember being in Romans class with the Esteemed Dr. Smith when a student asked about whether Paul was Calvinistic or Arminian. Smith poignantly replied that St. Paul was neither, since a millennium and a half were to pass before people started thinking about the terms in such ways. In studying election and predestination, we'd do well not simply to reference the works of Wayne Grudem or Jack Cottrell but to look at the way 2nd-Temple Palestinian Jews would've seen the terms, the way Greco-Roman pagans would've understood the terms, the way the early church understood the terms. There's a certain attraction, which I feel deep in my bones, to embracing a black-and-white systematic theology and wrapping all of scripture around that, so much so that we stop letting scripture interpret scripture and let our systematic theologies interpret scripture. I find my lazy heart drawn to systematic theologies so that I can take the beliefs of a man far more brilliant than me and make them my own, thus avoiding the hard work of wrestling with scripture myself. My brain won't let me do that: I have a compulsion to study these things, a compulsion to wrestle with scripture, a compulsion to examine all arguments and try to determine what makes most sense. And I have a feeling that if we were to travel back in time, find a first century Christian (whether Jewish or pagan heritage, it doesn't matter), and present both sides of Calvinism and Arminianism to him, and ask him which he agreed with, he would just blink his eyes and scratch his beard and wonder what in the world we were talking about, because they didn't think about these things the same way we do. This is a pretty huge deal, and in my studies of the subject, I need to keep that at the forefront of my mind.

Ultimately, in all such studies, humility is key. I like N.T. Wright for lots of reasons, but what tops the list is a disclaimer he gives at the first lecture of each new semester where he teaches. N.T. Wright is a world-renown theologian, a phenomenon of sorts, either loved or hated, and so many people take everything he says as gospel, as if he's the only voice on these subjects. If I were in his shoes, I'm sure the pride would consume my head and my heart, and I'd bathe in the praises of those who come to learn under me. It's for this reason that his disclaimer strikes me so deeply: at the beginning of each semester, he tells his students, "At the very least, twenty percent of what I'm going to teach you is wrong. The problem is, I don't know what those parts are." 

We need a good dose of humility whenever we begin talking about God and the way he works, and the sad truth is, especially when it comes to the issue of Calvinism and Arminianism, people on either side of the debate don't exercise humility. It's often a "my way or the highway [to hell]" mentality. One side is truly Christian, the other side is apostate. In one of the books I've been reading to learn more about Calvinism, for example, the author is asked, "Why don't all Christians embrace the Calvinistic doctrine of predestination?" His answer is two-fold: (1) they don't read their bibles, and (2) God has hardened their hearts and blinded them to the truth. He adds, "The modern evangelical church is drowning in an ocean of theological stupidity. Here and there are handfuls of the 'orthodox' clinging to the wreckage of what was once a great ship." The 'orthodox' are, of course, Calvinists, and the 'great ship' is Calvinism. Such arrogance is something that just makes my stomach twist all up in knots, and it's tempting for me to forget all of his arguments up to that point by virtue of his arrogance, but unfortunately it's a really good book, so I can't do that.

#nostalgia (II)

Rummaging through the crawlspace at Mom & Dad's, I found a box filled with all sorts of books I'd thought I'd lost years ago. Among them was one of my very first bibles, the one I bought right after I became a Christian after church camp, the one I used all through high school until leaving for college (interesting side-note, the bible I used all throughout college is an ESV which I used relentlessly in my Romans class, and scratched on the back is the name of my girlfriend; pretty cool tidbit!). I'm going to make sure I hold onto this bible, for within the pages of scripture lies not simply the Word of God but wonderful (and, at times, bitter) memories. #nostalgia indeed.

Also, Chris Williams is INDEED a jerk.

The sticker just proves it.

of ice dragons, tomahawks, and zombies

I've spent this evening hanging out with Skyler and Mom at Mom & Dad's place in Dayton. Dad's in Haiti doing mission work until this coming Wednesday, so Mom and I decided it was as good a time as any to get some Chinese (Dad greatly dislikes such food). I drove up straight after work in Blue Ash, and I took a long and steamy shower with soft water. It'd been nearly two months since I had showered (since the Hobbit Hole only has a porcelain clawed-foot bathtub), and I loved it. Back at the Hobbit Hole I do have a sprayer jerry-rigged onto the spout, but since the sprayer's meant for dogs, it doesn't have the water pressure I'd like it to have. I told Mandy my intricate plans for my coming shower, and she said, "You're so colonial." This girl, she knows how to compliment me, how to reach straight into my heart.

After my shower I curled up on the couch with Sky, turned on the fireplace, and began reading Allan Eckert's That Dark & Bloody River, a narrative history on the settling of the Ohio River Valley from the Proclamation of 1763 onwards. The prologue itself was eighty pages long, so this should be a fun read.

At China Cottage I ordered a "zombie" cocktail, something along the lines of rum and pineapple juice (I didn't really pay attention to the ingredients, the name is what hooked me). She had garlic chicken and I had my usual General Tso's chicken with steamed white rice, egg drop soup, and a plate of crab rangoon laced with sweet & sour sauce. I've eaten at lots of Chinese places, but no one's come close to China Cottage. Chris, Lee, Pat D. and I used to frequent it once or twice a week, usually on Sundays after church, our own little ritual. 

Mom and I talked about how things with Mandy have been going. It's funny: when some people ask, I'm pretty close-lipped about it, giving vague answers. But with others (such as with Mom and Ams), I'm eager to talk, talk, talk. Mom asked all sorts of questions, I paraded pictures of the two of us, and her only request was that we get married before I move up there. I don't foresee us getting married within six months, but that won't keep me from moving up there. I'm eager for winter to end, for spring to end, for summer to end. I'm ready for the advent of next winter, because it will mean I'm up there in Wisconsin, with her. For the moment we're separated by quite a large distance, but I take comfort knowing that there are indeed some benefits (believe it or not) to long distance relationships. Here are a couple I've seen in articles on the interwebs and in my own experience with Mandy:

(1) Long-distance relationships foster greater commitment.

(2) Long-distance relationships help build strong trust between those involved.

(3) Long-distance relationships increase communication skills.

(4) Long-distance relationships force you to get to know one another more deeply.

(5) Long-distance relationships enable the relationship to weather hard times better.

[the lion's roar]

First Aid Kit is one of my favorite "folksy" artists, and this song reminds me of--you guessed it!--The Walking Purchase of 1737. The Delaware Indians neighboring Pennsylvania had signed an agreement with William Penn that they would, in the future, sell to Penn's colony the amount of land a man could walk in a day and a half. Following Penn's death, his shrewd successors realized they had stumbled upon an opportunity, and they seized upon it. They hired one of the most athletic men they could find (probably an iron man) and had him start running at midnight one day and stop running at noon the following day. Pennsylvania gained 150 miles, and the Delawares were PISSED. This song has nothing at all to do with such things, but, well, this is how my mind works.

Now the pale morning sings of forgotten things.

She plays a tune for those who wish to overlook

the fact that they've been blindly deceived

by those who preach and pray and teach...

But don't you come here and say I didn't warn you

about the way your world can alter

And oh how you try to command it all still,

every single time it all shifts one way or the other...

Well I guess sometimes I wish you were a little more predictable,

that I could read you just like a book

by examining your timid smile

and the ways of the old, old winds blowing you back 'round.

#nostalgia

I've been reading through my old journals from 2009, reliving all the memories from when Mandy and I first started getting to know one another, when I first started realizing how special and unique she was, when I first admitted to myself (and it was a big deal) that I did like her and did want to be with her. The nostalgia's made only better by knowing that I am with her, and I love it, and I'm thankful for our story, even for all its rocky moments, because it makes a good story. It isn't boring, and who wants boring? All that aside, I came across some Christmas gifts I made for Jessie, Deshay, and Faikham way back in the day. Jessie told me she still has hers, it's framed in her bedroom. "I also have a barnacle, a plastic pumpkin, and a stuffed koala--all things you've given me." I'm not exactly great at mementos, but I think "Jessie the Warrior Princess and her Beast" tops the list.

[books i've been reading]

I've wrapped up my survey of World War Two history in parallel with Jeff Shaara's World War Two series. Eagle Against the Sun is one of the most comprehensive books on the American war with Japan in the Pacific. The book opens with the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and after a lengthy treatment of the "states of mind" of both the Americans and Japanese, dives right into the war itself, paying particular attention to the strategies and major naval operations. The swift "blitzkrieg" of the Japanese with the invasion of Guam, Wake Island, the fall of the Philippines and the fall of Singapore and Malaya cannot be overcome by Dolittle's stunt of taking Army bombers off a carrier to bomb the Japanese mainland. Allied prospects start looking up at the Battle of the Coral Sea and Midway, followed by the Battle of the frigid Aleutians. The author spends a lot of time with the battles for the Solomon Islands: Guadalcanal, Papua New Guinea, the Battle of the Bismarck Sea, Bougainville and New Guinea. He then shifts his attention to the Central Pacific theater: the Gilbert Islands and the bloodlettings at Tarawa and Makin; the seizure of the Marshall Islands; the takeover of the Marianas with the horrifying battles for Saipan, Tinian, and re-taking Guam, all overshadowed by the "Marianas Turkey Shoot" (or Battle of the Philippine Sea). He breezes through the battles for the Paulus Islands, focusing on Peleliu. He shifts his attention back to the Southern Pacific and MacArthur's liberation of the Philippine Islands beginning with the invasion of Leyte and its corresponding, epic battle, "The Battle of Leyte Gulf," and on up through to the invasion of Luzon, the liberation of the POWs at Bataan, and the freeing of Manila. He then shifts back to the Central Pacific: Iwo Jima, Okinawa, and the atomic bombings of both Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Shaara's historical fiction focuses on the battle for Okinawa and the developments of the atomic bomb and its detonations in Japan, bringing the Pacific War to a grisly but decisive close.

[sunday meditations]

All through high school I assumed that by age 27 I'd be married, have a family, and be working at a podunk, backwoods church. It was a cherished dream, and inherent within that assumption was the conviction that that was what God had planned for me. Something I've been coming to terms with over the past several years, and especially these past several months, is that God has a tendency to use us as he sees fit, not as we want him to use us, or even as we expect him to use us. My heart burns with a desire for preaching and teaching, but in this season of life, God has placed me elsewhere, with an entirely different sort of ministry that is no less a ministry. 

I've been learning to be content not only with God's provision in my life, but also to be content with the station in life in which God has placed me. Having desired for so long, and having been convinced that preaching and teaching is all that God wants for me in working for the kingdom, it comes as a relief to realize that "men of God" are measured by obedience, not by performance or earthly success. In this season God has brought me to work the developmentally disabled, to show them the love, patience, and kindness of Christ. I've been learning, too, that this ministry is two ways: these individuals minister to me as much as I minister to them. I've come to a place where I know those men I work with not as "clients" but as cherished friends. We have inside jokes, witty banters, we poke fun at one another, and we quite literally share our lives with one another. I've held my friend close as he's wept into my shoulder for nearly an hour following the death of a loved one; my heart has broken at his grief, and I've found myself moved in foreign ways by his own compassion towards moments of hurt in my life. 

With his permission (and desire), I'm giving you, my blog reader, a snapshot of my ministry. Here are the words of my dear friend Ben, words that he wishes you, the internet reader, to know: 

"I'm going to meet all the judges from American Idol, because I'm going down there with my friend Kyle. I'm going to be an uncle, and to all the different people who are here tonight, to all my fans, I really want you to know that I've been a fan of Keith Urban for a long time. Sometimes I like to get the different judges mugs with their first name and last name on them, and the first judge isn't Simon anymore, don't give him a mug because he's fired. He wasn't nice to people, and I'm sorry, but if you're not nice to people, find the door! He was a nasty judge. There's a new Keith Urban album coming out called 'The Leaf of the Fly', and my album's going to be 'The Leaf of the Fly: I've Got A Crush On Keith Urban.' I love Keith Urban, and I really want to go home to Keith Urban in Nashville, where I belong at, and it makes tears come because I belong there, I don't belong in Cincinnati anymore. I promise I'll take some photos in Nashville, and I'll come and visit and show you the photos and the videos, and I promise I'll visit my parents, and my sister, and you, too."

Oh, but he's not done. "Also, after that, there's going to be a big barbecue party for me and Keith Urban. There's going to be barbecue chicken, white corn, mac and cheese, anything like that. Beer! Or soft drinks (because I'm in rehab; I just can't stop drinking, I'm drinking too much!). After the party, I can't even put it into words, and this isn't my idea, here's what's going to happen: right after Keith Urban is sitting down and talking to Ellen or Oprah, I'm going to pop onto the stage and perform Keith Urban's songs!"

Peace!

How can your life not be filled with joy with such a friend in your life?

#ivegotacrushonkeithurban

from blue ash (III)

Over the past week I've been studying complementarianism as seen in Ephesians 5: Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ. Wives, be subject to your husbands as you are to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife just as Christ is the head of the church, the body of which he is the Savior. Just as the church is subject to Christ, so also wives ought to be, in everything, to their husbands. Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, in order to make her holy by cleansing her with the washing of water by the word, so as to present the church to himself in splendor, without a spot or wrinkle or anything of the kind--yes, so that she may be holy and without blemish. In the same way, husbands should love their wives as they do their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hates his own body, but he nourishes it and tenderly cares for it, just as Christ does for the church, because we are members of his body. 'For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.' This is a great mystery, and I am applying it to Christ and the church. Each of you, however, should love his wife as himself, and a wife should respect her husband. I'm in hearty agreement with the complementarian interpretation of that passage: it makes the most sense of the text, it's in accord with the whole of scripture, and quite frankly it's a beautiful and transcendent portrait of marriage offering hope to a broken world.

Ben just told me he's going to pounce on me and then lock me in the mounted patrol horse stable so that the horses can stampede me. All because he really likes my cooking. It doesn't make sense, that's what makes it awesome.

The Winter Tartan at Rock Bottom has run its course. It's truly tragic. It won't be around again until November, and by that time I hope to be in a different state altogether. Now they have a chocolatey moonlight porter that won a gold medal award in some contest. It's pretty great, though it's almost too dark for my fragile palate. Corey's a beer aficionado, brews his own when he can, and his always taste great. We went to Rock Bottom the other night, and he gave me the scoop on what makes a porter a porter. It was a fascinating lesson from a knowledgeable fellow.

Corey and I talked about everything with the Wisconsinite and my future plans to join her in the frigid north. He's on board, he understands what he's talking about. He and his Mandy (waaay too many Mandys in my life; or just the right amount?) had a similar long distance relationship going on, and he had a few really good pointers for me. His experiences will be helpful.

I'm really pumped about everything with Mandy. Like REALLY pumped. I'm really into her, and she's really into me, and we share the same values and motivations in life, a shared mission. I talk with her for hours on the phone, and it's marvelous. We've always been this way, of course, but this time it's different, it's on another level, and we're both really stoked about what the future holds.

It's 10:00 and Ben decided to eat a bunch of sugar and drink a cup of coffee right before bed. This will be fun.

YAK: postscript

Technically "Young Adult Group" would be abbreviated YAG instead of YAK, but because (1) YAG just sounds weird, and (2) Yaks are one of the coolest species of bovines on the planet, I'm transgressing technicalities. The group was cancelled yesterday because of icy roads, so in place of the usual "post-script" (of which this is the first, so who would know?) I'm pasting the questions from Wednesday night FOCUS group (I erroneously believed they were for the Young Adult Group, since I failed to read the entire email). 

What lies are you prone to believe about God, about others, about yourself, or about the faith experience? What perpetuates those lies? One of the biggest "lies" I'm prone to believe is that I'm not forgiven of my sins, that God does hold them against me. Mandy S. said the other day, "When life is hard, we often wonder what we've done wrong." I pay attention to my life, I know my sins, and I know I fail more than I would like to admit, and when life sucks, it's easy for me to look at my life, the inconsistencies between faith and practice, and deduce that life sucks because God is punishing me for not "making the cut" so-to-speak. Don't get me wrong: I'm not hiding any awful skeletons in my closet, but the demands God makes on our lives trickle down into every facet; it isn't just about our behaviors, nor even about our thoughts; it goes down even to our motivations, even our inclinations. Sanctification is a lifelong project between God and man, and to anyone who wrestles as I do to continually put to death the old self and put on the new self, I would cry out "Grace!" But I'm harder on myself.

What truths associated with our faith do you need to be reminded of most often? The truth about forgiveness, of course! (Is this not a repeat of Question #1?) I know that I'm indeed forgiven, that the atonement has defeated the evil in my life, even the evil in my heart. God doesn't pretend I'm perfect, or that my sin isn't a big deal; forgiveness isn't God "turning a blind eye." In forgiveness, God deals with my evil by defeating it, thus restoring the relationship. The evil in my life and heart is defeated, and by virtue of Christ's victory on the cross, forgiveness is mine and I have a renewed relationship with God. This isn't by virtue of my own efforts, but by virtue of Christ. For once we too were foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another. But when the goodness and lovingkindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by his grace, we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life. I am justified, in good standing with God; God and I are no longer enemies. I am his child, and he loves me, is considerate towards me, and he has my best interests at heart. When life sucks, it isn't because I've screwed up, it isn't punitive, it's just the nature of life, what life looks like in "this present evil age," life in the tension between Easter and Consummation. In hard times, I mustn't cringe from God as if he is displeased with me and treating me harshly; I must run to him, as a child runs to his loving father. THESE truths are truths which bear repeating and reminding in my life.

How can you be more intentional about speaking truth to your Christian brothers and sisters more regularly? (1) ASK. St. James is clear: "We all stumble in many ways." All of us who are in Christ carry our burdens, wrestle with sin, and have difficulties in our faith. Period. Even St. Paul confessed his own struggles, and he pleaded with God to remove difficulties from his life, but God simply replied, "My grace is sufficient for you; my power is made perfect in weakness." There's a "cult of perfectionism" that's taken root in the Western church, spreading like a pandemic through our congregations. We're made wary of sharing our struggles, of being transparent, so that those who are open about their burdens are often seen in a negative light, and those who yearn to be vulnerable know quite well that the church likes to shoot their own wounded. The best way to know what someone's struggling with is simply to ask; I've found that people are quite willing to share, to relieve themselves of the burden, if only giving it a voice. (2) If I'm asking others to share their struggles, I must be willing to share mine. The law of love isn't complete if we fail to share one another's burdens, and being someone to whom people often come for advice and help in their struggles, I face the very real temptation of not giving them the same courtesy. All too often it's easy for me to simply give advice and insight from a position of assumed authority; it takes a real man to admit his own failings and shortcomings, a real man to meet the suffering in their suffering and share in it with them. (3) If I'm wanting to speak truth to my Christian brothers and sisters, I must be willing to speak truth. Truth is often incongruous with comfort, and it's difficult to look someone in the eye and call them out on their sin, to tell them what they'd rather not here. Often we go to someone looking for comfort, but what we find, rather, is truth being spoken to us--and it can be the opposite of comfort at times. Truth is liberating, but it can be painful. The truth may lead us to sorrow, but often it's a sorrow laced with joy and hope.

from blue ash (II)

This past week with Mandy in town has been a whirlwind, and it went by way too fast. Already I'm missing her, and it's only *officially* been 24 hours since I last held her hand and looked into her eyes. It'll be so great to see her again at the beginning of March, and though I have to wait to see her in person, I'm no less excited about continuing to get to know her and share life with her in all the ways we can with the blessings of digital media. This "long distance relationship" is only temporary, and I'm praying for patience and wisdom as we continue on our journey 497 miles apart.

The chaos and elation of having her by my side for a week is giving way to normalcy yet again: lots of working, quiet nights at home, and a good deal of reading. My ambition to finish Shaara's The Final Storm by this past Sunday didn't quite come through, but I'm not mad about it: it'll give me something to shoot for this weekend. I'm also working on an essay of sorts charting developments and currents in 17th-18th century England and how they affected the American colonies. It's fascinating stuff, it really is. I'm trying to pick up an extra shift in Blue Ash per week, hoping to bolster my income and save, save, save. I have lots to save up for, and I've never been so motivated to do so. My "serving" at U.C.C. begins this weekend at Roh's Street Cafe, and I'm stoked about the Young Adult Group returning after its holiday hiatus. On top of all this, I haven't seen my closest friends for a while, and I look forward to "catching up" with Corey and Mandy, John and Brandy, Amos, Blake, everyone. I haven't even seen Ams in more than a week, and that's unheard of! She may come hang out with me and Ben Sunday, which would be pretty awesome. Ben loves her and is convinced that if he buys her jewelry, he's pretty much got her hand in marriage. To each his own, I suppose.

I've been making it a habit over the past several weeks to memorize scripture, and the effect it's had on my life has been surprising, to be honest. As I told Mandy last night, "When you read scripture, that's great. But when it's imprinted in your mind, it soaks into your heart, and meditating on passages throughout the day as I'm driving or working or before bed or in the morning really helps me keep centered on Christ and in the scriptures no matter what's going on all around me." The scripture really is living and breathing and active, and when we give it the space to seep into the marrow of our bones, the Spirit's at work, working in us and through us. I used to feel a sort of revulsion at memorizing scripture, as if it were some hangover from early Sunday School days I'd rather push out of my memory. Psalm 119 is an excursus on the beauties of scripture and of meditating on that scripture, and as I've been putting that into practice, I can't imagine my faith absent it. I'm not being legalistic or anything, and I don't think the quality of one's faith can be summed up by how much they memorize scripture, but I've seen and experienced the effects, and I'd rather have my faith with it than without it. This week's scripture is Ephesians 4.17-20: "You must no longer live as the Gentiles live, in the futility of their minds. They are darkened in their understanding, alienated from the life of God because of their ignorance and hardness of heart. They have lost all sensitivity and have abandoned themselves to licentiousness, greedy to practice every kind of impurity. That is not the way you learned Christ!" 

This has been a hodgepodge post, and I close with a quote from the venerable Thomas Jefferson: "Determine never to be idle. No person will have occasion to complain of the want of time, who never loses any. It is wonderful how much may be done, if we are always doing." 

an end & a beginning

I really didn't expect any of this to happen, but you won't find a single complaint in my bones. Mandy and I hung out all day after Crossroads Sunday, and on Monday I enlightened her senses with Dusmesh Indian buffet. We walked around Northside, got coffee at Sidewinder, and perused Shake It Records. One of our first "dates" (it wasn't really a date, though I wanted it to be) involved Shake It Records, and I couldn't help but kiss her in the shop, the memories flooding over me like a tidal wave. On Tuesday we did dinner with Cameron and Cheryl, and this afternoon we got a little time together at Starbucks before I dropped her off downtown for the bus ride to Chicago. It was a sorrowful goodbye to be sure, but it's a good goodbye in the sense that we'll be seeing each other relatively soon (at least relative to how often we've gotten to see one another face-to-face as of late). 

When I left Wisconsin in 2011, my intuition told me things weren't quite right. As I watched her get on that bus this evening, my intuition told me everything was quite right. I'm so stoked to see what the future holds for us, and I truly believe a new chapter is unfolding in both of our lives. 

It's been a bumpy road, from me letting her borrow The Office: Season 3 in 2008 to soy milk coffees in Romans class in 2009 and all the ups-and-downs since, but I wouldn't trade it in for anything with anyone else. Our story is a good one, a quirky and eventful one. Those are the best kinds of stories, and this story isn't over. I'm so thankful for that, and I'm so thankful for her. I thank God for you always when I remember you in my prayers. #truestory

[our song]

I'm not exactly a big fan of Jason Mraz, but right now I'm liking this song far more than anything by Damien Jurado ("Blasphemy!" I know). It's probably because there's so much... inherent... in this song, our song. 

When I look into your eyes
it's like watching the night sky or a beautiful sunrise.
Well, there's so much they hold.
And just like them old stars,
I see that you've come so far,
to be right where you are.
How old is your soul?

Well, I won't give up on us,
even if the skies get rough.
I'm giving you all my love.
I'm still looking up.

And when you're needing your space
to do some navigating,
I'll be here patiently waiting
to see what you find.

'Cause even the stars, they burn.
Some even fall to the earth.
We've got a lot to learn.
God knows we're worth it.
No, I won't give up.

I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily.
I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make.
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use
the tools and gifts we've got, yeah, we've got a lot at stake.
And in the end, you're still my friend, at least we did intend
for us to work, we didn't break, we didn't burn.
We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in.
I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not, and who I am.

I won't give up on us,
even if the skies get rough.
I'm giving you all my love.
I'm still looking up, still looking up.

Well, I won't give up on us.
   (no, I'm not giving up)
God knows I'm tough enough.
   (I am tough, I am loved)
We've got a lot to learn.
   (we're alive, we are loved)
God knows we're worth it.
   (and we're worth it)

I won't give up on us,
even if the skies get rough.
I'm giving you all my love.
I'm still looking up.

a quirky comic

1.12.14

She's the cute one. I'm the lucky one.

It's official: the Wisconsinite and I are together.
Boyfriend and Girlfriend.
She's mine, and I am hers.
For five years I've wanted her far more than anyone.
My hands shook as I pulled her close.
She said "Yes" as I said "Please."
It's so simple, really. And it means so much.

Does anybody remember back when you were very young?

Did you ever think that you would be this blessed?

Nobody plans to be half a world away at times like these,

so I sat alone and waited out the night.

So I'm asking you to shine it on and stick around,

I'm not writing my goodbyes.

#picswithfranz

she makes me look good

This past week has been PHENOMENAL. I never expected at the turn of 2014 that things would pan out the way they have, and I'm so thankful for this beautiful surprise. The Wisconsinite rolled into town Thursday, and we got dinner with Eric and Tiffany and the infamous tiblets, and we walked around Fountain Square and had ice cream at Graeter's and treated ourselves to coffee at Tazza Mia. Friday night we went to a comedy club to see one of her friends perform, and today I got to meet lots of her friends from the area at a 1-year-old's birthday party. Tomorrow we're going to go to Crossroads together (and IHOP after! love breakfast food), and Monday we'll have almost the entire day together. She's my best friend, and more, and it's so great to have her here, in person, sharing life with me, even if it's only for a little while. I was honestly nervous about what it would be like, but all nervousness has been torn asunder, and I'm just so unbelievably comfortable being myself around her, it's really refreshing. It'll be sad to see her head back north next week, but I'm so eternally thankful for this time we've had together. Yes, 2014 is off to an AMAZING start.

a turtle being tickled by a toothbrush

'Nuff said.

sharkhorse ramblings

It’s become uncouth in some progressive evangelical services to speak of “Quiet Times”, as if they’re something to be ashamed of, a hangover from the more conservative days of evangelicalism. I remember in college someone telling me that they didn’t have “Quiet Times” because Paul said to “pray unceasingly,” and this person thought that setting aside time each day to commune with God was simply a way of partitioning spirituality. Reflecting on that conversation, I can’t help but wonder if that was a genuine concern or simply justification for not having such times, and I’m wondering if most of those who use such lines spend any amount of time in prayer at all. If you don’t have the discipline to carve out space for prayer in the day, what’re the chances that you’ll have the discipline to pray throughout the day when immersed in the constant bombardment of distractions daily life brings? I’ve always been an advocate of “Quiet Times”, what I call “Up Times” from Colossians 3. If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. “Up Times” help reorient our thinking, bringing us out of the distractions to focus on what truly matters. These are often the most rewarding times of my day, and it’s unfortunate that so many Christians neglect the discipline of sitting down at the feet of Christ and learning with him, praying with him, being changed by him.

I should finish Jeff Shaara’s The Final Storm this weekend in Blue Ash.

Next up on the list: That Dark & Bloody River.

It’s all about the violent settling of the Ohio River Valley.

It’s geographically pertinent.

2014 is off to an awesome start. I’m hopeful, optimistic, excited. Yesterday I was driving in the car and “Say Something” came on the radio; simultaneously, hundreds of miles away in Chicago, the Wisconsinite was listening to “Let Her Go.” All I can think is, I’m glad she said something, and I’m glad I didn’t have to let her go. 

when the river smokes

These past few days have been marked by extreme cold all throughout the United States. A “polar vortex” is what they call it, and it’s been the worst cold front since the 1990s. Cincinnati had it mildly compared to the more northern states, but we still registered around -20 with the wind chill. The subzero temperatures played havoc on my car. The shocks froze up as they always do, making driving feel more like a safari than anything else. Then my doors wouldn’t shut, and I had to have one hand on the wheel and another gripping the door and pulling it against my side as I turned, or else the door would fly open and hit cars in the other lane. Once the doors were able to shut, they weren’t able to open, so I had to crawl in and out of my car windows. Quite a sight to see. “It’s a good thing I’m so small and agile!” I told Eric. Now that the temperatures are getting warmer (read: above freezing), my car’s back in good working condition. My car, always an adventure!

The polar vortex delayed a visit by the Wisconsinite, and though I was pretty frustrated, I was at least thankful (selfishly) that it enabled me and her to talk for 2 ½ hours last night. It was a wonderful talk. It’s funny: I generally loath talking on the phone, but I’m always eager to talk with her no matter the hour. I’m like my father, generally quiet and reserved, but this woman, she opens me up.

best photobomb ever

trending now

14 Favorite Ways to Twist the Gospel. This swift little article highlights a variety of ways evangelicalism tends to twist (a better word, I think, would be "dilute") the gospel. Common "twistings" that I've experienced in my own life as well as in my experiences in church and ministry include making heaven the goal, deprioritizing community, neglecting intercession, understanding the kingdom of God to be synonymous with heaven, and putting the emphasis of faith on belief rather than discipleship. 

Myths "Against" Postmillennialism. "There used to be a group called 'postmillennialists.' They believed that the Christians would root out the evil in the world, abolish godless rulers, and convert the world through ever increasing evangelism until they brought about the Kingdom of God on earth through their own efforts. Then after 1000 years of the institutional church reigning on earth with peace, equality, and righteousness, Christ would return and time would end. These people rejected much of the Scripture as being literal and believed in the inherent goodness of man. World War I greatly disheartened this group and World War II virtually wiped out this viewpoint. No self-respecting scholar who looks at the world conditions and the accelerating decline of Christian influence today is a 'postmillennialist.'" Thus the article quotes Hal Lindsey and then goes point-by-point examining the accusations made against postmillennialism and how those accusations simply don't make sense. Lindsey is adamant that no self-respecting scholar observant of world events can be a postmillennialist, but some of the most brilliant men I've known have been professing postmillennialists. I'm not sure where my beliefs lie on the spectrum of "End Times" talk, but I do find postmillennialism to be a persuasive way to look at cosmic history and the work of God in our world.

Why Switchfoot Won't Sing Christian Songs. I don't know anything about Switchfoot to be honest, but these quotes are pretty solid: "There is a schism between the sacred and the secular in all of our modern minds. The view that a pastor is more 'Christian' than a girl's volleyball coach is flawed and heretical. The stance that a worship leader is more spiritual than a janitor is condescending and flawed. These different callings and purposes further demonstrate God's sovereignty... We have a call to take up our cross and follow. We can be sure that these roads will be different for all of us. Just as you have one body and every part has a different function, so in Christ we who are many form one body and each of us belongs to all the others. Please be slow to judge 'brothers' who have a different calling."

Sex After Christianity. This is an old article and a stinging indictment on western Christianity. One of the main points made is that Christianity has been known for its own rejection of pagan sexuality, but the western church has all but embraced such pagan sexuality, so that it has become "paganized." Such paganization has been done under the demise of being "progressive," but it's simply the apathy of the western church in general and the seductiveness of the modern conviction that one's own desires "are the locus of authority and self-definition." Here's a cool quote: "Paul's teachings on sexual purity and marriage were adopted as liberating in the pornographic, sexually exploitive Greco-Roman culture of the time--exploitive especially of slaves and women, whose value to pagan males lay chiefly in their ability to produce children and provide sexual pleasure. Christianity, as articulated by Paul, worked a cultural revolution, restraining and channeling male eros, elevating the status of both women and of the human body, and infusing marriage--and martial sexuality--with love. Christian marriage... was 'as different from anything before or since as the command to turn the other cheek.' The point is not that Christianity was only, or primarily, about redefining and revaluing sexuality, but that within a Christian anthropology sex takes on a new and different meaning, one that mandated a radical change of behavior and cultural norms. In Christianity, what people do with their sexuality cannot be separated from what the human person is."

[sunday meditations]

me and my weekend buddies

The wind's tearing at the windows here in Blue Ash and snow's dizzyingly falling. It's 10:30 and I've got a midnight drive on roads caked in black ice and freezing rain, and I'm definitely not looking forward to it. I am looking forward to crawling into bed with my space heater blasting and enjoying tomorrow's day off work: cleaning, running errands, and hanging out with my little sister (while doing laundry at her place).

This week has been surprisingly hectic, in so many ways, and now that it's coming to a close, my mind feels numb and dumb. I've done way too much thinking, and I'm eager to just shut my brain down and enjoy the peace and quiet of a blank slate as I teeter on the edge of sleep. Usually I have a "Sunday Meditation" already hammered out and ready to post, but that's not the case this week, and I've been trying to piece together some "Barnhart Words of Wisdom" (ha! as if), but nothing seems to be coming. Perhaps the blank slate is dawning a little earlier this evening?

Okay, here's something.

I've been considering taking a passage of scripture and making it a "passage of the year" or something of that nature, a passage to memorize, consistently come back to, meditate on and pray over, and really let it just sink into my life. I've been thinking about this for a while now, and Colossians 3.1-17 is the passage I've been thinking of running with. Paul paints a portrait of what the Christian life, both as individuals and as a community, should look like: putting to death all that belongs to the "old life," embracing all aspects of the "new life," and living in community.

So if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.

Put to death, therefore, whatever in you is earthly: fornication, impurity, passion, evil desire, and greed (which is idolatry). On account of these the wrath of God is coming on those who are disobedient. These are the ways you also once followed, when you were living that life. But now you must get rid of all such things--anger, wrath, malice, slander, and abusive language from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have stripped off the old self with its practices and have clothed yourselves with the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge according to the image of its creator. In that renewal there is no longer Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and free; but Christ is all and in all!

As God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

It's a beautiful passage, and so far as meditation goes, you'd do well to ignore anything in regular type and just focus on that which is italicized in this post.

The wind's howling and the snow's raging.

Fingers crossed for a safe drive home tonight.

I've got my Neuro Sleep to "take me away" once I reach my front door.

from Blue Ash

In December I read no less than seven books. I'm hoping 2014 will be trendsetting when it comes to reading. I've got quite the queue, but I've been chiseling through it book-by-book in a literary whirlwind. If I can read three books a month, that's 36 books in 2014. That's a fairly impressive number. I don't read every book fast; I've been reading Celebration of Discipline slowly, pondering each chapter, taking notes in the margins, praying over what Foster writes. I've been working on Foster's book for several weeks now; at the same time, I've spent the past week starting (and finishing) the 600-page Eagle Against the Sun: The American War Against Japan. Here's an interesting little "factoid" I found on the interwebs (or "meme-base", if you will); I'm not sure if it's true, but if it is, I'll be an international expert in no time!

Bored here in Blue Ash the other night, I did some research on "being short" and discovered some interesting little statistics:

(1) Short men are at a disadvantage when it comes to dating. Women--be they short, average, or tall--generally prefer taller men.

(2) Nevertheless, shorter men are better lovers and life-partners. Women who marry short guys tend to be happier and feel more secure than women who marry tall guys. There's lots of speculation why this is the trend, and one good theory is that because shorter men have been at a disadvantage in the "dating world," they've developed more compassion, kindness, and patience, and they tend to be more loyal and affectionate towards their spouses or partners. 

(3) The stereotype of short guys being "less manly" is downright wrong. In fact, shorter guys tend to be stronger pound-for-pound, have better endurance, better agility, and a quicker reaction speed than tall guys. We're less prone to broken bones and have stronger hearts. We also tend to live longer than taller guys, all things considered. Short guys excel in combat; the "underdogs" whom no one expects to be standout in combat turn out to be excellent fighters. This isn't too surprising: there are physiological perks to being short which can be helpful in combat. Let's not forget that one of the greatest war machines the world has ever seen belonged to the ancient Romans, and the average Roman soldier stood around 5 feet 4 inches! Thus I'm as tall as the average Roman soldier, and that's not a bad thing at all.

this would be me if I were a Roman soldier. Being short and kicking ass.

"Vulnerable"

2014 has been interesting so far, to say the least. A good friend pointed this song out to me the other night, and I can think of at least only one person to whom I would dare sing this to in my off-kilter voice. I wonder if this song can be played on Mandolin? My uncle's letting me borrow his mandolin so I can play around on it for a little bit. My voice and my attempts to play this song on Mandolin would be memorable indeed, albeit not in the good way like you want!

Share with me the blankets that you're wrapped in,
because it's cold outside, cold outside, it's cold outside.
Share with me the secrets that you kept in,
because it's cold inside, cold inside, it's cold inside.

And you're slowly shaking fingertips,
show that you're scared like me,
so let's pretend we're alone.
And i know you may be scared,
and I know we're unprepared, but I don't care.

Tell me, tell me, what makes you think that you are invincible?
Please don't tell me that I'm the only one that's vulnerable.

I was born to tell you I love you.
Isn't that a song already?
I get a B in originality, and it's true:
I can't go on without you.
Your smile makes me see clearer.
If you could only see in the mirror what I see.

Slow down girl--you're not going anywhere.
Just wait around and see.
Maybe I am much more, you never know what lies ahead.
I promise I can be anyone, I can be anything.
Just because you were hurt doesn't mean you shouldn't bleed.
I can be anyone, anything,

I promise I can be what you need.

a strange, unexpected day

Your eyes, they tie me down so hard.
I'll never learn to put up a guard.
So keep my love, my candle bright.
Learn me hard, oh learn me right.

This ain't no sham.
I am what I am.

Though I may speak some tongue of old,
Or even spit out some holy word,
I have no strength from which to speak.
When you sit me down, you see I'm weak.

We will run and scream.
You will dance with me.
They'll fulfill our dreams, and we'll be free.

And we will be who we are.
And they'll heal our scars.
Sadness will be far away.

So as we walked through fields of green,
was the fairest sun I'd ever seen.
And I was broke, I was on my knees.
And you said "Yes" as I said "Please."

This ain't no sham.
I am what I am.
I leave no time for a cynic mind.

We will run and scream.
You will dance with me.
They'll fulfill our dreams, and we'll be free.

Do not let my fickle flesh go to waste,
as it keeps my heart and soul in its place.
And I will love with urgency but not with haste.

"Let Her Go"

Well you only need the light when it's burning low,

Only miss the sun when it starts to snow,

Only know you love her when you let her go.

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low,

Only hate the road when you're missing home,

Only know you love her when you let her go.

And you let her go.

Staring at the bottom of your glass,

hoping one day you'll make a dream last,

but dreams come slow and they go so fast.

You see her when you close your eyes.

Maybe one day you'll understand why

everything you touch surely dies.

Staring at the ceiling in the dark,

same old empty feeling in your heart,

'cause love comes slow and it goes so fast.

Well you see her when you fall asleep,

but never to touch and never to keep,

'cause you loved her too much,

and you dived too deep.

And you let her go,

and you let her go.

Will you let her go?