[sunday meditations]

Ephesians 1:11-14

"Having praised God for the grace of election in Christ (1:3-6), which comes from eternity past, and having praised Him for the forgiveness of our sins, which we have in the present (1:7-10), Paul looks to the future and rejoices in our inheritance (1:11-14). It belongs to the Gentiles, not only the Jews, who were 'the first to hope in Christ.' Therefore, this inheritance is common to all Christians. It is also a secure inheritance. It was planned by God, purchased by Christ, and is protected by His providence. We, the heirs, are even sealed with the Holy Spirit, marking us out as God's holy possession. At the heart of this inheritance is the lavish riches of finding fellowship with God through the Holy Spirit. He is poured out to us as a 'down payment' right now, granting access to the Father through Christ (2:18). And we will receive the rest of these riches, the fullness of God's grace, when He grants life to our bodies and bestows us a communion with God that operates by sight instead of faith."

In [Christ] we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things according to the counsel of his will, so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory.

In the ancient world, sons claimed the family inheritance by virtue of family membership. In the same way, we who are God's children via divine adoption have an inheritance in Him by virtue of our membership in His family.

This inheritance is a COMMON inheritance. In verses 12-13, Paul makes a distinction between "we" and "you also." He's referring to the Jews in Christ and the "you also" of the Gentiles in Christ. Both Jew and Gentile are reconciled to God by Christ. Gentiles share in the inheritance originally preserved for the Jews but which has now been "opened up" unto the world by Christ.

This inheritance is a SECURE inheritance. From eternity past, God has predestined us for this inheritance. All things have been created by the counsel of His will, and He has the power to bring His plans for the world, including our inheritance, to fruition. We are in the present "sealed" by the Holy Spirit; the Spirit is like a divine cattle-brand burned into our hide. The Holy Spirit is both a guarantee of our election and of our inheritance, a "down-payment" on what is to come. He is part of our inheritance coming-to-roost within us in the present. A down-payment is an initial sum of money given, reassuring that more money will be given in the future; in the same way, the Holy Spirit is a foretaste of our inheritance and a promise of that full and final inheritance in the future. Right now we have communion with God through the Spirit, by faith; but when we enter into our inheritance, we will have full communion and fullness of communion (in both body and spirit) with God.

Our inheritance is a DIVINE inheritance. What is the main attraction of our inheritance? At the very center of it is GOD. Our greatest anticipation ought to be the communion with God we will experience. If we fail to anticipate that, it's because we lack the faculties to perceive what such unhindered communion will really be like. God is our life source, and right now we are, in a sense, only partway plugged in. When we step into our inheritance, we will be fully "plugged in," and God's life will flood through us like electricity through an outlet. Right now we are weighed down by hearts that are sinful, hearts that fail to comprehend anything greater than "purified versions" of what this world offers. We do indeed have communion with God in the present, but this communion is like "looking dimly, through glass." We can feel the fruits of the Spirit and experience spiritual transformation, but we're still weighted down by the remnants of our corrupt natures. When we step into our inheritance, those sinful dispositions, and our sinful nearsightedness, will be eradicated, and we will experience a thrilling, euphoric, and satisfying communion with God that we never imagined to be possible.

of goats and softball

Things were busy at the farm yesterday, so I took Ben and Jason for a walk through the woods, past the vintage springhouse (my favorite spot on the farm), and then we snuck into the goat pen and played with all the baby goats. They were so adorable! I would love to have a goat one day.

On Wednesday evening Jason's parents hosted a "Ridgecrest Family Picnic." Jason made his world-famous "secret recipe" burgers (of which I had three), and side dishes included baked macaroni and cheese topped with breadcrumbs, a delicious salad, and deviled eggs (of which I had six). I was so full that I couldn't even handle any dessert, and I could barely finish my beer. Ben wanted to play a round of cornhole, so we gathered up some people and played. He's super competitive, and one of my greatest joys is getting under his competitive skin. He lost both games we played, though he made several bags in the hole. Jason didn't do so hot, so I exclaimed, "Jason, you did awesome! And Ben, I really expected more from you." He got so upset. We played some more, and he lost again. "Ben, you're matching the losing streak you made at softball this year!" He stormed off. Absolutely hilarious. Here's a video of him ranting about how his team lost the championship game:

I don't have anything else I want to write about.

So in the words of Tigger: "Tata for now."

"come with me now"

This song has been blowing up the airwaves, and it's one of my favorites to run to. It's electric, it makes me want to dance, it makes me want to push myself harder. And it encompasses a lot of what I have been "feeling" lately. It's Come With Me Now by the Kongos.

Come with me now!

Whoa, come with me now!

I'm gonna take you down.

Whoa, come with me now!

I'm gonna show you how.

Afraid to lose control, and caught up in this world.

I've wasted time, I've wasted breath,

I think I've thought myself to death.

I was born without this fear, now only this seems clear:

I have to move, I need to fight, I need to lose myself tonight.

I think with my heart, and I move with my head.

I open my mouth, and it's something I've read.

I stood at this door before, I'm told,

but a part of me knows that I'm growing too old.

Confused what I thought with something I felt.

Confuse what I feel with something that's real.

I tried to sell my soul last night; 
funny, he wouldn't even take a bite.

[insert witty post title here]

This picture has ZERO relevance to anything in this post.

Ams and I hung out Monday, and I suggested we go to Jungle Jim's.

"Sure," she said. "What're you getting there?"

"I want to look at their honey," I said.

She eyed me. "Are you kidding?"

"No, I want to see their honey jars."

"Okay. That's weird, but we can do that."

I'm glad she humors me.

Yesterday I was offered a part-time youth ministry position. Unfortunately, it was seven hours away and didn't pay enough. The church position in eastern Kentucky I was hoping for didn't pan out; I tried getting a hold of them after they promised contacting me, but they've just ignored me. I'm assuming that means they're not interested. A church in northern Ohio has been contacting my references after I filled out a questionnaire a few weeks ago; that may be a good sign. Not this Sunday but two Sundays from now I'll be preaching at a church in eastern Ohio; I'm thinking I'll preach from Romans 8. Here's a paraphrase of the passage I'm contemplating using:

If you live your life animated by the flesh--namely, your fallen, corrupt nature--then your mind is focused on the matters of the flesh. But if you live your life animated by the Spirit--namely, God's indwelling presence--then your focus is on the work of the Spirit. A mind focused on the flesh is doomed to death, but a mind focused on the Spirit will find full life and complete peace. You see, a mind focused on the flesh is declaring war against God; it defies the authority of God's law and is incapable of following His path. So it is clear that God takes no pleasure in those who live oriented to the flesh.

[Romans 8.5-8, The Voice]

I wouldn't use The Voice of course; I prefer the ESV, NRSV, or NASB.

But I won't be a snob about it. I can even appreciate Eugene Peterson.

Just thinking about working in ministry gets me all excited.

It would be a nice change-of-pace from my usual weekends with the guys.

Don't get me wrong: I love the guys, but things have been frustrating as of late.

Sometimes working for a nonprofit really sucks. Not only do you get paid literally nothing and work wonky hours, but you also get zero benefits AND you get screwed over a lot. This past weekend I missed Tyler's wedding, and it looks like a four-day trip Dad and I planned may have to be postponed because I can't find anyone to cover my two little shifts. We've lost several people at the group home, and the organization isn't exactly stepping up their game and hiring anybody. Never mind that there's already a $250 non-refundable deposit on a cabin. I'm at the point where if I can't find anyone to cover my shifts two weeks out from the vacation, I'm just going to put in my two weeks. That may just be "hot talk" coming straight out of my frustration, but these days I wouldn't be surprised if I actually did it. But at the same time, if I start Grad School within the next month or two (which I hope to do), then my shifts with the nonprofit would be perfect, since there are downtimes when I could study and do homework. Hmmm...

There's a song that keeps coming on Christian radio.

And, surprisingly, I'm starting to actually like it.

At first I couldn't stand it, but it's grown on me.

Here are some of the lyrics:

God of mercy, sweet love of mine.

I have surrendered to Your design.

May this offering stretch across the skies,

and these Hallelujahs be multiplied.

Your love is like radiant diamonds

bursting inside us, we cannot contain.

Your love will surely come find us

like blazing wildfires singing Your name.

God of mercy, sweet love of mine.

I have surrendered to Your design.

May this offering stretch across the skies,

and these Hallelujahs be multiplied.

[Multiplied, Need to Breathe]

I love the line "surrendered to Your design." That about sums up what every day is like for me. I have to make a conscious effort just to surrender my future, my feelings, and my thoughts to God. He is the potter and I am the clay, and He's going to work in my life in such a way that He's glorified. I really wish His designs paralleled with mine, but I have to keep remembering that this life isn't about my desires, my aims, or my ambitions. I'm a slave to God; I've been ransomed, bought with a price; I don't belong to myself. God is determined to use me in a way that He sees fit, and each day I'm actively submitting to His designs rather than my own. It's a challenge sometimes, it really is; but in that surrender I'm finding peace, and joy, and hope. Best of all, I'm finding healing. There's a lot in my life that needs to be healed; I used to see the need for such healing as a black mark against me as a person. Then you start to realize that we all need healing, and we're all broken in myriad ways. Some peoples' brokenness is more evident than others; but brokenness is always there. God is all about healing us; that's the point of the cross, that lies at the heart of sanctification, and that's the main work of God's Spirit within us. Justification, liberating, redemption... All big words that have undertones of healing. I'm reminded of something I heard on the radio yesterday: "We are so obsessed with looking like Jesus that we subconsciously look down on those who look like they need Jesus." We are so afraid of our need for Christ being seen that we hide our brokenness, our insecurities, our weaknesses, and our struggles; and in our fear of being known, of being called-out as someone Just Like The Rest of Us, we propagate the myth that we are all quite okay, that "having it together" is the norm, and that struggling is an aberration in Christian life rather than something that is quite rightly to be expected. 

"greater"

Bring your tired, bring your shame.

Bring your guilt, bring your pain.

Don't you know that's not your name?

You will always be much more to me.

Every day I wrestle with the voices

that keep telling me I'm not right, but that's alright

'Cause I hear a voice and He calls me redeemed

when others say I'll never be enough.

And greater is the One living inside of me

than he who is living in the world

Bring your doubts, bring your fears.

Bring your hurt, bring your tears.

There'll be no condemnation here.

You are holy, righteous, and redeemed.

There'll be days I lose the battle,

grace says that it doesn't matter,

'cause the cross already won the war.

I am learning to run freely,

understanding just how He sees me, 

and it makes me love Him more and more.

of selfies and peleliu

I'm so guilty of NOT doing steps 1-4.

This blog has been replete with selfies lately.
Selfies with the guys, selfies in the pool, selfies in my bathroom.
Half the selfies are of me half-naked. Awkward.
I'm going to have to curb that.

Last night after work I spent the evening burning incense, drinking beer, and playing World War Two video games. This is where my dorkiness knows no bounds. First I read a chapter in my book The Pacific on the American invasion of Japanese-held Peleliu Island. It wasn't much more than a strip of coral filled with sand, marshes, and palm trees; but the Japanese knew how to entrench, and they knew how to fight. The warfare in the Pacific makes Normandy look like a game of hopscotch; but we love saving France so much, you'd think the Pacific was a sideshow. In reality, the Pacific was the main theater, and the war against the Japanese lasted far longer than the American war against Germany. But I digress ("Thank God," you say, if you had the diligence not to skim). After reading about the Battle of Peleliu, I put in my Call of Duty: World at War video game and play the first mission set on Peleliu Island, and I play it on veteran so I can't just run around with a flamethrower torching everybody. I want it to be hard, frustratingly hard. Once I beat that mission, I take to the skies, and I sit in the seat of a TBF Avenger and, flanked by F4U Corsairs, drop bombs on artillery positions on the Wake Island map (it's the closest thing Birds of Steel has to Peleliu). Having completed that, I play another mission "on the ground" in World at War, and then I switch back to Birds of Steel to tango with some Japanese Zeroes over the coral atoll. This goes on for about an hour, and it excites me to the core.

World War Two is one of the most fascinating wars. The interconnectedness between it, the First World War, the Cold War, and the wars against Communism in Asia is an interesting tale. Just to think that an assassination in Austria led not only to the world's first world war, but also to all those other things (and vaulted the United States from a dinghy, isolationist position in the western hemisphere to being THE world superpower)... Well, that's just interesting. World War Two is a gut-wrenching, horrifying, and enthralling story replete with all the great attributes of a great mythos. Yes, I enjoy studying colonial wars more than the Second World War; but insofar as "reading for fun" goes, World War Two is at the top of the charts. 

What first drew me in fascination to the Second World War was a love for aviation, and the airplane fighters captivated me as a child. Giants hunks of gas-guzzling steel and propellers cutting across the sky, thousands of feet above the war-torn ground, battling it out and dropping bombs and basically committing murder (as one Frenchman put it, "Fighter pilots don't kill; they murder."). What's my favorite WW2 fighter plane? you ask (Wait, no one asked that; they know better; but this is my blog, and there's a picture, so don't be too put off). The answer: The Grumman F4F Wildcat!

How is that tub-bucket not stalling?!

Want to read a good story about the Wildcat? Research the Battle of Midway and see the hell of a fight those American pilots made against the Japanese. Seriously, do it. 

the reformation (II)

As promised: a ridiculous facial expression.

It's been six weeks since I started "the reformation" (basically working out a lot, running, and eating healthier). I think a lot of it boils down (or boiled down) to me wanting to gain control over something in my life. At this point, I'm still doing it because I enjoy it. There's nothing as great as endorphins flooding your system, and the effects have been pretty good. My arms are getting better, my stamina is increasing, and my chest is getting better, though they're still rather "perky".

Fun fact: I have a weird-shaped rib-cage.

I had X-Rays done in 2012. My doctor said, "This is weird."

He showed me the scans: "You have some really weird ribs."

Basically they bow outwards. Giving me "perky" breasts (as I like to say).

I'd make a gourmet Donner Party St. Louis Style basket. 

My exercise regimen with weight-lifting alternates between a variety of muscle groups. The first (which I entitled "Exhausting Arm Workout") focuses on biceps, triceps, and forearms. It's the most exhausting of all the workouts I do. The second workout focuses on my chest, shoulders, and back; and the third focuses on my legs. I've also been doing crunches to help tone my stomach, but I'll always have a good deal of pudge around my midsection (it's genetic), so if I ever get a six-pack, it won't be able to be seen. #firstworldproblem

I've also been running a lot. I've been doing the Couch to 5K (or C25K, in shorthand). I have a cool App on my phone that's zombie-themed: whenever it's time to run rather than walk, I hear a zombie snarl and I have to run like I'm being chased. Exhilerating! I'll be able to run a 5K by October, and then I'm going to start training for a 10K. And after that... A 20K? I think that'd be a half-marathon. Maybe if I work my ass off I'll be able to join Dad on an Iron Man one of these years. 

*GULP* What if I'm turning into him?

All this looks a LOT like how he got started.

But look at him; he's such a badass:

Just getting ready for a sixty-mile bike ride in the morning before church.
No big deal.

At John & Brandy's, we've been watching American Ninja Warrior. Basically it's a set of crazy, insane obstacle courses and people compete to see who can complete them. At first it bored me, but I've become oddly fascinated. One of my favorite participants is a 5'2" dude who is, quite simply, a MACHINE. I'm always inspired by short people being awesome, and I've got two and a half inches on him! I also love how his shortness isn't an insecurity (or if it is, he doesn't let it show); he just says, "Yes, I'm short. So that means I have to be faster, and stronger, and more agile than everyone else." He doesn't see weaknesses; he sees areas where he can excel. Simply amazing. 

#skinnydipping

this just about encapsulates my monday afternoon

I've spent the afternoon crashing at my parents' house in Dayton. Dylan and I were going to meet up for lunch since he's in town, but he was too busy with his family and girlfriend, which is understandable. So instead I've been doing laundry, watching Criminal Minds, eating Chipotle, and hanging out with Sky. I took advantage of the overcast skies (and the fact that Dayton is two degrees cooler than Cincinnati) to go for a run at North Park and to do a good forty minutes of weight-lifting outside. I was caked in sweat by the time I was done, so I grabbed a Blue Moon from the fridge, stripped down to nothing, and took advantage of our privacy fence to do some much-needed skinny dipping. As I was lying in the pool with the sun scorching my pale body, I took some time to just relax, breathe, and do some thinking.

Yes, things have been difficult as of late. Sometimes I feel bad for feeling as sad as I do. I really do believe that all I need in life in God; then why the sadness at the loss? It isn't that I feel that life without her is incomplete. Sadness over loss is natural. I have to keep reminding myself that. And even though there's a lot of sadness these days, the truth is that I'm feeling more and more optimistic. Life has moments when the grief cuts across our hearts like a switchblade; but these times don't last forever.

Physically, I'm feeling better than I have in quite a long time. I think it's a combination of quitting smoking (again), working out or exercising every day, and eating better. I'm really excited to be getting back to my roots! Once the heat and humidity cools down, I'll be making lots of trips to the Gorge to run through the woods, hike difficult trails, and try my hand at some free-climbing (I've always been a kickass rock climber; my nickname in high school was "Kamikaze" because I was always eager to risk the difficult climbs). 

I did have McDonald's for dinner the other night.

Two McChickens and a 10-piece nugget.

My morning run the next day was cancelled in lieu of dysentery.

I'm excited about my future; I'm being more proactive than ever about furthering my education, and my pursuit of ministry, despite how discouraging that pursuit has been, continues unabated. A voice tells me that my grief disables me from ministry, but that voice is a lie--all proclaimers and heralds of the gospel are broken, stained with earth and prone to depravity. We proclaim our brokenness and point to the liberation that is found in Christ. 

A church contacted me last week.

I'll be preaching there in September.

"We want to see if you're a good fit," the elder said.

He said they're an informal back-country church.

That means, I think, I have a green light to wear my cowboy boots.

Done and Done.

Yes, spiritually things have been rough for me lately. That's how it goes sometimes, plain & simple, and God has been gracious to me in my struggle. I'm praying that gospel truth will infect me to the bones, and that I can wrap my perceptions and thinking around the cross. I'm running hard after Christ and seeking after holiness, which isn't an arbitrary "code of conduct" but a spirit of living well in the fear of God, in loving Him, in loving other people, and, yes, even in loving myself the way that is appropriate. Church has been going well, and my time there has been a great support. I'm serving coffee, getting involved with the Young Adult Group, and getting to know people. I think a lot of my apprehension about being outgoing comes from a fear of being known; I fear that if people know me, if they see my quirks and idiosyncrasies, they'll have no desire to know me. I'm choosing not to care about those things, just to be myself, and I'm enjoying it. I feel like a barrier in my social life has been lifted, and I've been giving it a lot of practice (I had a ten-minute conversation with someone I didn't know, and I actually enjoyed it). Mind. Blown.

the 40th week

 

Monday. I spent most of the morning at The Anchor reading Romans and journaling, and then I picked up Subway for lunch and watched the movie "Saints & Soldiers" before a shift with the twins at Target in Norwood. I had a nasty Naked protein shake for dinner; had I known how chalky and disgusting it was, I wouldn't have spent four bucks on it. My evening was spent in Mason hanging out with Blake, Traci, and Ams: Blake and I played MW3, we watched Dirty Jobs, Blake fixed spaghetti (paired with some red ale), and Ams cut my hair. Night had fallen by the time I got back home in Covington, and I burned some oil lanterns and started Tolkien's The Return of the King. I tried opening communication with Mandy again. No response, of course. She's in Japan right now, visiting her sister and brother-in-law. I was so excited for her to go to Japan, and I remember her researching tickets while we were on the phone. I was excited about hearing about all her adventures out there, but now I've lost all privilege to hear how it's been. It sucks. I promised her I wouldn't try to contact her. I've broken that promise like... Seventeen times. I just miss her so damned much. It's funny: Mo complained that I couldn't open my heart to her, and yet for the life of me I can't close mine towards the Wisconsinite. I've never loved anyone like her, and I've never let anyone have such a hold on me before. It's pathetic, in a way. Few words can open me, but she knew them all.

Tuesday. Our credit card machine went down in the cafe, so Tori and I had a pretty hectic morning. Between shifts I worked out my chest and shoulders, and when I went down to my car to head up to Blue Ash, I realized I left the lights on. I had to call Verizon Roadside Assistance, and after getting a jump, I barely made it to work on time. I fixed three separate dinners simultaneously (training for parenthood), and then I took the guys to Winton Woods, where we walked around the lake and goofed off. I was going to run after work, but Lisa was half an hour late so I just returned home, lit some candles, read Tolkien, and went to bed.

Wednesday. I had an awful night, unable to sleep and barraged with memories, painful thoughts, and foreshadowings. It's an odd thing when you have a nightmare, wake up, and then thank God that He gave you a nightmare, because it meant you were asleep. Chloe and I opened at the cafe; she was in Alaska all last week, and we swapped stories about our time there. Between Tazza Mia and my shift in Blue Ash I went for a run through Wallace Woods (such a beautiful neighborhood), and in Blue Ash I took the guys on a walk to UDF and then to ballroom dancing. I ended the night with scripture from my 1599 Geneva Bible and slept soundly, recovering from last night's lack of sleep.

Thursday. I worked 8:30-5:00 in Blue Ash. Ellen came by the house, and she told me, "You're working too much. You need to get out there and meet someone, get your mind off Mandy. You've got such a kind and generous heart. I bet it wouldn't be too hard for you to find someone?" Oh, I can find someone lickety-split. But like I told Ellen, I don't want to find someone. I just want to be with the woman who loves me, the woman who's too scared to embrace that love. "Curse words," I said with a wry smile. She asked why I still wanted to be with her after all that's happened; I told her it's simple: I love her. I know relationships are hard, and I know that she's worth it. I would rather be with someone I love, and with all the difficulties involved, than with someone I don't love, but who happens to be more compatible. I won't deny that even now I just want to love her, sacrifice for her, cherish her, nurture her, and all those things. But I know time will take care of that... I took the guys to Gorman Heritage Farms, and we weeded in the Hoop House and hid from the drowning rains. After work I returned to my Hobbit Hole, did some much-needed cleaning (I've turned into a sort of cleaning freak lately; it's something regimented, monotonous, and I love the smell of Lysol), and then went to the Young Adult Group at U.C.C. 

Friday. After work at Tazza Mia, I went up to Waynesville for Tyler's bachelor party (he and Julia are getting married Sunday). We smoked cigars, drank Trappist beer, and devoured hot dogs and hamburgers. "You're still doing that Christian thing?" Tyler asked. Many of my friends have turned their back on God, chosen a different way, and suddenly all the prayers God never answered start coming to fruition. They're surprised that I still believe in the midst of the unending gauntlet of defeat and disappointment. To be honest, sometimes I'm surprised, too. At times I wonder if it's strength or weakness, my resolve to keep clinging to what appears to be a silent and apathetic God. But, really, I think He's holding onto me. I remember Jessie telling me, "It's human instinct to blame God when things go bad, to ask Him why He did this to you. But I think that while we're blaming Him, He's there mourning with us. Do you really think God orchestrated everything with Mandy the way He did? Do you really think He did that to torment you? You don't believe that, deep down. I know you don't. I can't imagine that He thinks Mandy did the right thing, when the basis of her decision was selfishness rooted in a warped and unbiblical view of relationships." Kiley's adamant that though God's hand may not lie behind everything that happened, He's determined to use it to continue shaping me into the person He wants me to be. I'm a work-in-progress, and God will use every event--the good and the not so good--to turn me into the person He wants me to be, namely a person who reflects Christ. I'm so shitty at it right now, but I know I have God's forgiveness. He knows I'm made of dust, He knows the grief I'm enduring, and He's meeting me in it. Don't fight the hands that are holding you.

Saturday. I woke at 5 AM unable to go back to sleep, so I went to The Anchor and journaled. I worked out and had Dusmesh for lunch, and I spent the afternoon hanging out at Winton Ridge with the usual crew before my 5-Midnight in Blue Ash. It's been like two and a half months since everything with Mandy went down, and I still haven't gotten over it, haven't gotten over her. I asked Jessie if she thinks I'm crazy; "I don't think I'm crazy, but crazy people never think they're crazy, so I figured I should ask." She said she didn't think I was crazy; she added, "It would be kinda weird if you were completely over it. You thought your deepest desire and dream was coming true with the woman you love, and without warning it was ripped away. That's a really big deal." It certainly feels like a big deal, even now. I want to be over this. I want my heart to turn from her. I want my love for her just to be gone already. It serves no purpose but to make me remember how wonderful it was to be with her. My heartfelt prayer is that God will make me indifferent towards her so that I just don't care anymore. I used to pray that He would increase my love for her, that He would increase my devotion to her, that He would make me a man who could lead her, support her, cherish her, nourish her, and love her as she deserves. Now that prayer has been replaced. Oh, I know my love for her will, in time, fade: a love malnourished can only but wither. I just wish it would happen quicker. I still can't imagine life without her in it, though she came quite steadily to imagine life without me, and she preferred it over life with me. I'm not there yet. 

Sunday. I served coffee at U.C.C., and the sermon was the first in a series on the Gospel of John. I went to Dusmesh for lunch, and I went to Mount Echo on the drive home and spent time walking through the woods, praying over everything that's happened. Tyler and Julia got married today; I couldn't get my shift covered (lots of drama there I don't want to get into), so that sucked. I spent my evening at work immersed in prayer, just taking my grief to God, and I feel that God did have a plan for Mandy and me. I can't believe that it was just a mix-up, a "bad hop"; the evidences of His hand, and of His providence, throughout it all are unmistakable. So many people told us, "We can see God in this." Even Mandy said, "It's so obvious how God has been at work in us, to bring us to this point, and I'm so excited to see what He has in store for us!" I really do believe He had plans for us. But I think that she let her fear get between that. I think she was just overwhelmed and instead of saying, "I love him, and he loves me, and we love Jesus, and we're going to see where He has been taking us," she indulged fear rather than trust. I feel as if God is telling me, "This isn't what I wanted to happen." But I believe that if His plan for us is scrapped, a new one will rise in its place. I just have to grit my teeth, trust Him, and believe that there are Better Days on the horizon.

[sunday meditations]

Ephesians 1.7-10

“The early verses in Ephesians give us insight into the overarching script that God has written for creation. Not only has He chosen us in Christ to be blameless (1:3-6), but He has also granted us the forgiveness of our sins (1:7-8), freeing us from the condemnation of the law and reenlisting us into His holy army. God accomplished this wondrous feat through the proclamation of reconciliation (1:8-9). The good news of Christ, finally unveiled in all its glory and clarity, performs this great work of power. Finally, we learn that our reconciliation is part of His greater plan of reconciling all things together (1:9-10). In Christ, sinners find peace with God, His holy angels, and one another. And it is in Christ that we discover a future hope, that our sin-stained realm will be cleansed and united with heaven itself, according to God’s great wisdom and eternal purpose.”

* * *

In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.

[Ephesians 1.7-10]

Ephesians is filled with great glimpses of God’s “Master Plan”—what He is doing in Christ—and our place, role, and purpose in that great drama that goes beyond us to the whole of creation. We have been written into the story, so-to-speak, of God reconciling all things to Himself through Christ. Paul makes it clear in Eph 1.10 that God’s plan in Christ is a plan of reconciliation, uniting all things in Christ, those things “in heaven” as well as those things “on earth.” 

We who are in Christ POSSESS reconciliation. We were once, as Paul will say in Ephesians 4, “alienated from God,” hard of heart, darkened in our understanding, enlisted in a rebel army under a false general, warring against God in our hearts, minds, and bodies. God came to His own, and we decimated Him. But by this, God sought our redemption, the forgiveness of our trespasses. 

We possess the forgiveness of sins. 

Forgiveness isn’t something we’re waiting on. 

Forgiveness isn’t incomplete, something to be fully completed in the future. 

We possess it. 

Not only that, but we possess reconciliation. 

We are right with God; because of justification, we now stand before God in peace. 

We are no longer His enemies; we are “friends of God."

Even more, we have been adopted as His children. 

We possess redemption: we have been freed from the curse of the law and from the power of sin because of what Christ accomplished in his death and resurrection. 

We who are in Christ are to PROCLAIM reconciliation. God’s modus operandi in the “advance of reconciliation” is the proclamation of Christ. When the gospel is proclaimed, the Holy Spirit is at work through the “going out” of God’s Word. The Spirit who was active in the creation of the world as God’s Word “went out” in Genesis 1 & 2 is the same Spirit who works powerfully through the proclamation of the gospel. The evil powers in the heavenly places stand against this proclamation; they have set their teeth against God and His gospel, and they strive to curb its advance. Their primary method of warfare is that of lying and deception; the evil powers seek to convince us that this message is foolish, or that it is isn’t as good as it sounds. 

“You’re not fully forgiven.” 

“There’s no way this can be the truth.” 

“Look at your sin: could God really love you and accept you?” 

His lies are contrary to scripture, and they’re clever, aimed at drawing us away from God and His desires for us. He sows death and decay; God sows life and life eternal. 

The PLAN of reconciliation. So often we see ourselves as Center Stage in the gospel; but Christ is the center, and we are supporting actors in God’s plan to unite all things to Him in Christ. There’s “vertical reconciliation”: Christ became sin for us, bearing God’s wrath towards us, paying the due penalty of our rebellion in full, and defeating evil; by his act we are reconciled upwards (or vertically) to God. There’s “horizontal reconciliation”: we are reconciled to one another in Christ. All people, once hostile to one another, are reconciled in one body—Christ’s body—in the church. There’s “cosmic reconciliation”: a cleansing has been accomplished, and heaven and earth will be reconciled. This is the Christian’s “great inheritance.”

to the window! to the wall!

note to self: go to the aquarium. it's right down the street, after all.

I've written a bit here and there about Grad School, so here's an update. I love the idea of doing ministry. I really do. It isn't for no reason that I went to C.C.U., did a variety of internships, and have been striving to get involved in a teaching or preaching position at a church. The unfortunate reality, of course, is that finding such positions takes a lot of luck. It's all about connections, and connections are something I don't have. They don't give you connections in college; they just give you the degree. The connections I do have all speak highly of me, but they're not too helpful in finding a position. Most churches want someone who is married (I'm not) or at least someone with more experience. It's not surprising that of all the people I graduated with, only a few ended up in ministry; most others went a different direction after realizing churches don't like to hire "fresh out of college" folk, and if you can't get a ministry position after college, each year absent vocational ministry is another hack at your perceived ministerial value. Some people do unpaid internships right after college; but I have bills, and I have to work sixty hours a week to pay them. I simply can't afford an internship without going in debt, and I may not be Dave Ramsey, but I don't think that's the route God would want me to go.

Although ministry is indeed something I aspire to, I have to be realistic: it may not come to pass, despite my desire and efforts, and it would be wise not to replace my degree but to supplement it. The unfortunate truth is that I'm 27 years old, working sixty hours a week, doing something that a high schooler can do, and I live below the poverty line. That's just not acceptable, especially if I want to support a family one day. I've looked into several graduate schools, and I've honed in on one school in particular. I've completed all the steps needed to actually start school, and I have a meeting with my advisor next week to determine if the school will be a good fit for what I'm wanting to do. If everything goes to plan, I'll begin school in September, and I'll be pouring the rest of my "move to Wisconsin to be with Mandy forever" savings into the first batch of classes. If everything falls into place, I'll be sure to let everyone know exactly what I'm pursuing, but since things aren't official yet, I don't want to start making prophecies. 

Also, I've finished reading, for like the nth time, one of the best trilogies in literature:

wizards, dwarves, elves, and orcs! oh, and hobbits. hobbits, too.

Next up? An Army at Dawn, a narrative history of the American campaign in North Africa in 1942-1943. I've already read the first chapter, and if the author can make an uninteresting Atlantic voyage fascinating, I can't wait to see what he does with the actual battles of the Allied push across North Africa towards Italy. 

a hoop house kinda day

Holed up in the Hoop House!

It's rained literally all day. Ben, Jason and I spent the morning pulling weeds in the "hoop house" (basically a technical word for a type of greenhouse), and we were stranded in there as hammering rain drowned out the world. I love the sound of rain drumming on canvas; it made me want to be camping down at the Gorge. Once my Monday shift is transferred to another staff, I'll have an actual Day Off, and I plan on celebrating with lots of hiking (maybe camping, if I take off Tuesday morning), and eating burgers and drinking beers at the Rock House.

Summer is almost over, and I haven't even ridden my bike yet.

I need to get the tires pumped, and I need to buy a helmet.

(I refuse to ride without a helmet; old-school, I know)

I've been itching to bike the Mariemont to Xenia bike trail.

Maybe I can put that on my "Monday Bucket List".

My blog has been getting lit up recently. Visitors from all over the world have been stopping by to see a certain post I published in January of this year. Germany, Poland, France, Australia, Japan, even Somalia (I didn't even know they had internet over there!)... Countries all over the world have been stopping by. What is it that draws them here? THIS post. (the capital letters is a link; click it) Apparently I've become part of a worldwide sensation.

I'm hoping I'll get to go see Ams tonight at her new apartment in Fairfield.

It's near Jungle Jim's; I may swing by there and buy some honey.

(they have a honey jar with REAL HONEYCOMB inside)

This weekend I'm doing the Ice Bucket Challenge. (is that what it's called?)

Mom is making me do it, even though I refuse to donate to acronymical charities.

There's a meme floating around the internet of a homeless guy in Cincinnati offering to sell a police car. I stumbled across it and laughed out loud. It's Terry, one of my favorite homeless guys. He wanders around Fountain Square, is always very polite, and he'll talk your ear off, sharing stories about how God has been at work in his life, how he's come to trust in God's sovereignty, and how he doesn't feel shame for being homeless (he's one of those guys whose homelessness isn't due to laziness), and how he finds comfort when Jesus says that some people who follow him won't have places to lay their heads. He's also hilarious. Here's the picture:

#wintonwoods, et. al.

"Why is there a feather in your hair?" Ben insisted I wear it. Like an Indian.

This year so far, two posts on this blog have included the words "Justin" and "Bieber." That's three times too many. I swear to you, it won't happen again. 

On Tuesdays I've been taking the guys to parks around Cincinnati. Last week we didn't go anywhere; I was feeling lazy and decided we should just watch The Lord of the Rings instead. This week we went out to Winton Woods and walked around the lake. Jason and I raced up a flight of steps and he won; I didn't let him win, he grabbed me by the arm and pushed me backwards into the railing. It came out of nowhere. I would've been mad, but to quote Anchor Man, "Heck, I'm not even mad, that's amazing!" There's a reason his nickname is "Gorilla." Ben's nickname is "Box Turtle" (he hates it, but that's the point of nicknames), and so today I got a pic of him in front of a turtle painting:

He has about as much fashion-sense as I do.

Jason is in his chair drinking a diet coke (they're his jam).
He likes to mumble things to himself, usually quotes from his favorite movies.
Sometimes if I have to pass gas, I'll let it out one pooter* at a time.
He perks up, looks around, trying to identify the sound.
I just sit on the sofa with my book, acting all nonchalant.
He goes back to drinking his soda and coke.
I squeeze out another pooter.
He perks up, looks around. Then he'll look at me: "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"I heard something."
"I didn't hear anything."
He goes back to his coke and quotes.
Rinse & Repeat.

I've brought the "weekly updates" back. They're Blake's favorite; "They help me feel connected," he told me. I enjoy writing them and looking back over the weeks that have gone by. It's basically an online journal. I kept doing them while Mandy and I were together, combining them with pictures and videos and memories. I was going to turn them into a scrapbook to give her on our wedding night. Oh well. It's a good idea; my future wife will appreciate my affection rather than be freaked out by it (I hope!). Writing the weekly updates now is helpful for the sadness I've been feeling, too: I'm forced to find the interesting, weird, and funny moments of the day. It's easy to be overwhelmed with nostalgia and negative thoughts; that's the way the brain functions in a depressed state. These weekly updates help me fight against such negativity by finding gems each and every day. I haven't chosen to feel the way I do, but I can choose how I fight against the feelings. 

"What's this?" Jason asks from the kitchen.
"That's a First Aid kit," I tell him.
"What's it for?"
"It's so that if you hurt yourself, I can fix you."
"And Ben, too?"
"No, if Ben hurts himself, we'll just let him die."
"That's rude! You should fix him, too."
"Okay, Jason. I'll do it for Ben, too, but only 'cause I don't want you to be mad at me."

In the past three weeks, I've used up my year's supply of Verizon Roadside Assistance. My car works great. The fault lies with me: I routinely forget to turn off the lights. I pasted a little reminder on my window (but I'm so unobservant, it may not work):

I'm hoping getting scolded by Gandalf will help me get my shit together.

* Who uses the word 'pooter' anymore? This guy.

an albino justin bieber

But seriously, who WOULDN'T want to date an albino Justin Bieber?

I've had a couple people ask me about these dates I've gone on; in Amanda's words, "Where all these girls be at?" They say one of the best ways to get over someone is to "get out there," casually date, and see that there are "more fish in the sea." The problem is twofold: (1) I'm not a fan of casual dating, and (2) there aren't many women quite like the Wisconsinite. Meeting women only reminds me of my love for her and how much I lost when I lost her. She isn't easily replaceable.

These women are women I've met through church or work. One was a customer that came into Tazza Mia every day, and she was always rather persistent while Mandy and I were together. I made it very clear that I was taken and awkwardly refused any advances (I can't help but be awkward when I do anything). She found out Mandy and I weren't together, and she invited me out for drinks to "get things off my chest." So I said why not, and we met up at Rock Bottom, and long story short, it just made me all the more depressed as I remembered Mandy and I sharing drinks there back in January. The other two, I don't feel like going into it, but I don't talk to one of them anymore because she was kinda weird, but with the third we're still friends, and we both prefer it that way. Casually dating may be a good idea for some people, but it isn't for me, and this is why:

First, my heart still belongs to Mandy. End of story. I can't even look at another woman without seeing her as subpar to the Wisconsinite. Period.

Second, dating to "move on" feels dishonest to me. With one of the three women, I was up front about where my heart is, and I think by confessing that I was trying to pull myself out of a pit I had dug by going on more than one date. When she said she didn't mind, it terrified me. She has genuine feelings for me and wanted to see where it went. I said No.

Third, it still feels like cheating. When I was out with these women, the whole time I felt like I was betraying Mandy. It's stupid, I know. But I still felt that way. I've been told I'm fiercely loyal, and apparently that loyalty stretches too far. But I can't change it.

Being single is great. It's far better than being with someone you don't love. But being single sucks if you're single because the woman you love and planned a life and family with decides she's suddenly not all about it. I would rather be with Mandy, but if not with Mandy, I'd rather just be single. I didn't date Mandy because I wanted a girlfriend; I dated her because I loved her. There's no one else I want to be with besides her, and dating anyone else would just feel like settling.

So... I hope that answers anyone's questions.

the 39th week

Monday. I went to The Anchor this morning to read scripture and journal, and from there I headed up to Mom & Dad's to do laundry and play with Skyler. As my sheets were tumbling, I went into Springboro and had lunch at the classic China Garden Buffet. I could only eat one plate; I used to be able to shovel three or four down my gullet. Old age, I guess. Once my laundry was done, I headed back down Interstate 75 and spent the afternoon deep-cleaning the Hobbit Hole. Thunder rumbled outside, and I went to The Anchor (yes, again) to drink coffee and explore Grad School options as the storm approached. As I packed up my things to go, the storm turned into a monsoon, and I sat at the bar convincing one of the waitresses that she shouldn't let me borrow her umbrella because I would certainly lose it somewhere. Once the monsoon let up I made a dash out to my car, and back at the Hobbit Hole I worked out, took a bath, lit some oil lanterns, and read The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers before bed. Treebeard is a BAMF. 

Tuesday. Brandon and I opened the cafe, and after work I did some modeling (the U.S.S. Constitution, not what you were thinking), played Birds of Steel, enjoyed some coffee and scripture at The Anchor, and then headed up Interstate 71 to Blue Ash for a shift with the guys. We walked to the library and UDF, fixed a great dinner (baked chicken, mashed potatoes, sauteed mushrooms, and steamed broccoli), and watched The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. Towards the end of the movie I started chanting, "Let's go, Sauron, let's go!" and Ben got really upset. Lisa relieved me, and after working out, I spent the evening taking a long hot bath in the glow of lamplight and listening to summer crickets, contemplating all that I have to be grateful for. It's hard to be thankful in the midst of depression, but last night I saw all that God has blessed me with, and I slept in peace. 

Wednesday. Tori and I opened the cafe, and I spent the afternoon working on my model of the U.S.S. Constitution (I should probably finish it sometime; it's been about two years in the making) and dining on free sushi from Fusian. Tazza Mia may not be the best job, but its unorthodox benefits are appetizing: free growlers of beer from Rock Bottom and free sushi from our kindly neighbors. I went to The Anchor to read scripture; Romans 1, always a difficult text; and then I worked 3-7:00 in Blue Ash. Ben didn't have program, so he hung out with Jason and me. The guys joined me in my workout routine before we walked to UDF and back. At one point back at the house I heard what sounded like a strange rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, and I went downstairs and found that Ben had spread out a gigantic, tattered U.S. flag and was standing in his Red's gear with his hat over his heart belching his lungs out. I took the two of them to ballroom dancing, and when Jooniper relieved me, I headed out to Fairfield to see Amanda's new apartment, and we ordered Domino's, ate cheesecake, and watched "America's Got Talent." Also: I officially applied for Grad School today, and since I was so proactive in my application (I actually contacted them with lots of questions), they waived my application fee. There's $65 bucks I saved!

Thursday. I dreamt about Mandy again, and woke up sad. Gas station coffee and prayer at Swaim Park before work helped take the edge off. I took the guys to Gorman Heritage Farms, and we had a cake for Christa, who was leaving for Green Acres ("It's the place for me!"). I saw Ben stand up with that look on his face, and I leaned over to a volunteer and bet them ten bucks that Ben was about to make a speech. He thought I was joking. Then Ben proceeded to make a speech, and it culminated with him getting down on one knee and proposing to Christa. She flushed red, and I told her, "Don't feel too honored, he does this like once a week, always to someone different." Desperation will lead us to do odd things, I suppose. I was off work by 5:00, and I spent the evening dive-bombing American battleships in Pearl Harbor. The strange things I do to unwind...

Friday. I worked 8-2:00 with Eric and spent the afternoon cleaning my apartment before reading scripture at The Anchor. I went to Winton Ridge and spent the evening with Brandy & Amos (John was in Dayton having a "bro night" with his brother). We played Mario-Kart, watched American Ninja Warrior, and Clover and I got into a fight and she cut me up pretty badly. Don't worry, I still won, and we cuddled afterwards. At Winton Ridge I read through some of the letters Mandy had written me; I had placed them in a cardboard box and set them out on the porch to weather the summer rains. Most of the ink smeared, but some sentences in her handwriting were still visible, and it broke my heart all over again to remember when she said those things to me. I wanted to burn them, a sort of purging, but they were too damp; so instead I went in a frenzy and tore every photograph and every letter into shreds. Hopefully they'll dry and I can roast them sometime next week. Back home I lie in bed thinking about her, and I used my friend Kiley as a soundboard, and she told me, "People change, people disappoint us, and people leave us. I'm so sorry for what she did to you. I understand the pain, and even when you fall in love again, the pain of what she did will never leave you. But you shouldn't want it to. Because the wife God has out there for you, she would never even imagine doing that to you. She will become best friends with your sister, not just haphazardly seek her approval with one text message in six months of dating. I know it hurts now. Sometimes you feel like being single forever would be easier, and it would. Putting yourself out there to be hurt again is hard, and it sucks. But trust the plan God has for you, because it's an amazing one. Get lost in His Word. Really plug into a community of believers. It does get easier." She knows, because three months before her wedding, her fiance ended things with her, telling her, "I think God wants me to be a priest." Of course, he didn't become a priest; he was just using "devotion to God" as an out. Amateur Christians like to blame their inconsistency, cowardice, and thoughtlessness on God; by doing so, foolish and hurtful actions are justified and lumped into "God's plan", and they exonerate themselves from blame by placing blame on God; and who dares talk back to God? It sickens me.

Saturday. I went to The Anchor before my afternoon shift with Aaron; we went to Applebee's and I devoured some Orange Chicken. We dallied about at Hobby Lobby and I got a nice "beachfront" candle for my bedside table. I spent the afternoon hanging out in my apartment, and after working out I went to The Anchor to read scripture before my 5-Midnight shift in Blue Ash. Ben tried to pour himself a slushie at UDF and spilled it everywhere ("Ben, I told you to tell me if that's what you were getting, because you spill it every single time."), and he had so much sugar in his system that he couldn't stop yelling and laughing on the walk home. He passed out around 8:00 from the sugar crash and didn't get back up, except at one point to inform me that he broke his collarbone moving his bed. Don't worry, he's fine.

Sunday. I went to The Anchor to listen to a sermon from Westside Reformed before going to church at U.C.C. I spent the afternoon hanging out with John, Brandy, & Amos at Winton Ridge, and then I worked 4-Midnight in Blue Ash. Ben and I ordered La'Rosa's and watched Disney's The Lone Ranger. When I got home I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, feeling that deep chasm in my soul. I would do anything to be back with Mandy again, to put all this behind us, to try again. I'll always love her and always be ready to fight for her. She doesn't want that, of course. Since 2011 I have never stopped loving her and desiring to be with her, to care for her, to protect her, to nourish her. When we were together, I tried to learn how best to do that, consuming book after book, trying to put into practice what it meant to love her in the way she deserves. Having tasted such love, along with the promise of being with her forever and building a family with her, how can I just "move on"? How can I just put us and her behind me when I haven't been able to do that at any point? Having gotten so close, how can I turn my back on her, even if she's turned her back on me? I wish I didn't love her. I wish I didn't know her the way I do. But ultimately I wish she wouldn't have run, and I wish I would've had what I don't so that she would've stayed with the man she loved rather than turning me out to look elsewhere. But such is the way it goes for guys like me, as history has been so apt to show. She will find someone else, marry him, and have a family with him. Everything we shared has been nothing but an ill-fated dream. The very thought of it all makes me want to fall asleep and never wake up.

[sunday meditations]

Ephesians 1.3-6

"Paul’s introduction to this letter reminds the Christian church of the importance of rejoicing in God’s grace in Christ. Though 'predestination' often evokes annoyed looks of frustration and memories of overly-enthusiastic young men talking endlessly about it, verses four to six celebrate this blessing. It’s the source of our salvation. We were chosen from eternity in Christ, which means that God is eternally acting for our salvation. Though our will is not on par with God’s, election doesn’t nullify our will—we’ve been chosen to be conformed to Christ’s image, which requires holy thoughts, words, and deeds. The ultimate purpose of learning of God’s electing grace is that we might bring Him glory. God did not choose us due to anything He foresaw within us. It was according to His own good pleasure, which means that He alone receives our thanks and praise."

* * *

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the beloved. 

[Ephesians 1.3-6]

In Ephesians 1.3-14, Paul articulates the gospel so that the Ephesians will rejoice in the gospel. This rejoicing looks backwards (to their election in eternity past) and forwards (to their inheritance in Christ). There's lots of disagreement among Christians on the mechanics of election, but that's no reason to avoid the subject altogether. The history of Christendom has been filled with disagreements on nearly every aspect of Christian doctrine; if we were to ignore or bypass those things that are contemporarily controversial, we wouldn't be able to speak on a single thing. In this sermon, the pastor focused on election from a Reformed perspective.

We are chosen FROM ETERNITY. God chose His people in Christ before creation, even before Space & Time and modern physics. The motivation of His choosing is love. He is the initiator, and we are the recipients. God's purpose and plan has always been to rescue a people for Himself: the catholic, or universal, church. Salvation in Christ isn't a backup plan: even before the Fall, God had chosen a people for Himself to be redeemed from the curse of the Fall. Our eternal security comes from eternity past. We are chosen according to the purpose of His will; our chosenness originates with God, and we are chosen for His reasons and pleasure, and not because of anything we've done.

We are chosen FOR CONFORMITY. We are chosen so that we will be holy and blameless before God. There is an active purpose in election, which encourages belief and good works. Predestination isn't opposed to our will; rather, it places our will in the context of God's sovereign choice. God's will is transcendent to ours; He is sovereign. As creatures, our will isn't on par with His will, and our will with true choices isn't sovereign. Coming to terms with this is the equivalent of a Copernican Revolution: our will revolves around God's will and can only operate under the governance of His will (and, yes, even Arminians believe this!).

We are chosen FOR HIS GLORY. Western Christian culture is therapeutic in nature: it's all about you, about your happiness, your self-esteem, your flourishing. Three times in Ephesians 1.3-14, Paul makes it clear that salvation is all about God's glory, not ours. Here too is a Copernican Revolution: we orbit around God, not the other way around. Our election by love and all that flows from it is for His glory. Our purpose in being chosen is to bring Him praise.

on the ministry search

The "job quest" for a ministry position hasn't been going well. I've applied at nearly seventy different churches with open positions, and even if I get interviews, they always choose someone with more experience, or someone who's married. "Oh, you're still single?" they ask. "Do you not want to get married or something?" My blood always starts to boil at those questions, and I just laugh and say I love the idea of marriage, but I haven't found anyone who sticks. I think it's a funny joke. But most churches want someone who's married, if not to fulfill the requirements of 1 Timothy, then to have an extra "helping hand" in children's ministry through the minister's wife. 

I wonder why I wasted all that time and energy on such a useless degree. Part of me thinks maybe the answer is going to Grad School and getting my M.Div. or something along those lines; but shelling out $20,000 in the hopes of getting someone not to toss my resume in the junk drawer sounds like a foolish idea. Besides, most people who end up working in churches can't last more than a couple years before being overwhelmed by the responsibilities, pressures, and internal politics. Let's not forget that one of the biggest "marriage killers" within Christendom is ministry itself; perhaps for the good of my future wife and children I should avoid such entrapments. Don't get me wrong, I still like the enjoy of doing ministry, of preaching and teaching, and I'm still throwing out resumes and having interviews; but perhaps yet another "disappointment" in life can be avoided if I only look at the bright side. Perhaps God, in His great love for me, is keeping me from vocational ministry, because He knows how damaging it can be to the soul. Besides: I'm single, and not having anyone to come home to, a woman to support me and encourage me, after all the taxing hours and responsibilities that come with church life, could make ministry all the more draining.

I start asking myself, "Why did I go to C.C.U.?" The answer is simple, at least at first: "Because I wanted to do ministry." That's true. But it isn't what I wanted to do most. In my church, when people started talking about what colleges they were going to attend, anyone attending a religious college got extra applause. It was the devout thing to do. It was how you proved your mettle. No one recommended otherwise. No one asked, "Is that really what you want to do?" And I wish they had. I wish they would've told me, "You'd better be absolutely sure that's what you want to do with your life, because if you change your mind, a Bible college degree is practically worthless." The reality is that most employers don't see a bible college degree as anything of substance; they think it means you're either lazy or a fundamentalist, and though you may be neither, they still think that you came out of that institution doing little more than memorizing scripture. And scripture memorization doesn't translate into any substantial career. I wish someone would've told me that, and I wish someone would've suggested I pursue what I wanted most over something I wanted least. Yes, I wanted to do ministry, and I still do. I enjoy it. But when I graduated high school, what I wanted to do most was either pursue paleontology in South Dakota or become a history teacher. But because I was a Christian, and because I had given my life to Christ, I felt that to pursue either of those would be selfish and out-of-line with God's will for my life. Add on to all this the fact that people had told me all my life that they "felt" that God wanted me to be in ministry (in the same way that Mandy "felt" that God intended for us to be husband and wife), and there was a lot of pressure to pursue a bible degree. I wish I would've been more courageous and actually pursued what I wanted to do. I can't lie: I think that going to C.C.U. was a mistake, and if I could do it all over again, I would've gone elsewhere. But life is living, and learning, and adapting accordingly.

If ministry doesn't pan out, what then?

I have a couple ideas, and I've been making phone calls.

I'm going to keep this one on the backburner for a little longer.

I don't want to make a fool out of myself, after all.

(I do that way too much on this blog, anyhow)