Giving.

Why do we give? We're all out here struggling to make it, working our butts off to make a better life for ourselves and our families, we've worked hard for every last cent we have, so why should we give any of that to other people that haven't tried as hard? Right?

I think a better question we should be asking is "Why shouldn't we give?".

Tonight my life group and I went to a park in Anaheim to reach out to a community in need. In this predominantly Hispanic community we met up to cook hot dogs, play some soccer ( I tried to get some people into some football but that wasn't happening ) and hand out some school supplies we had got together. It would have been easy to jump into this community and start passing judgement on immigration status and their lack of English and a million other things, but that's not why we were there - we were there to give ourselves in any way that was needed. Why? Cause this is, what I believe, loving your neighbor as yourself looks like.

I think it's easy to get wrapped up in politics, and semantics and every other dumb thing and allow ourselves to lose sight of what's important - I do it all the time, but to be honest - none of that matters.

Yes, it may be bad for our state that we have illegal immigrants draining our system. Yes, it may be annoying struggling to get the food you want from the butcher at the mexican market cause he doesn't speak English. And yes, it may be frustrating to press "2" for English - but the truth is, they are loved by the same God that loves me, and that's all that should matter.

This reminds me of the story of the Good Samaritan in the the book of Luke. Basically, a Jewish guy got robbed and beat up on a well traveled road. He was then passed by several people that you would expect to help him, a friendly neighbor and a religious leader - but neither of them helped him. Then a Samaritan came up, took him home and took care of him. The funny thing about this story and it's title is that Jews and Samaritans absolutely hated each other, but in that moment when the Jew was in need, the Samaritan saw not a Jew, but a fellow man.

That's who I want to be. The kind of man that loves others as I love myself - not because they believe the same things I do or look like me, but simply because they are here.

Surprises.

I like to be surprised by people. Not like a surprise birthday party, or a snake in a can kind of surprise - but to see someone do something you never would have expected them to do. Whether it's good or bad, big or little, I like to be surprised by people. I think it keeps me fresh, keeps me from thinking I have people figured out, and keeps me honest.

I have this friend, I'll keep this somewhat ambiguous for his sake - but I'm sure you'll figure out who it is if you know the story. When we were in high school he was always doing ridiculous stuff, like stealing the yard narc's golf cart and crashing it into a tree. When we got older he would always want to go up into the hills and start a bon-fire and throw aerosol cans in it, I mean - it was awesome to see them explode. As the years went by and I found myself working in jobs that carried great responsibility I grew away from that - but he didn't. I remember him starting to hang out with people that were years younger than us and thinking that he was doing it just to have people on his same maturity level to do crazy things with. Then he got his girlfriend pregnant.

Honestly, when he first told me this I was kind of bummed. I assumed that he would continue down his path of immaturity and not be a good father - the he surprised me. I have never seen someone turn things around so fast, he buckled down at work, saved money, got married, and has done nothing since but do everything he can to be the best husband, father, man that he can be - and nothing stokes me out more.

See, no matter how hard I try, I can't help but think I've got things figured out at times, but in reality - I think I have very little figured out. I wish there was some way that I could apply this into my everyday life, when I meet a homeless person, when I talk to the cashier at the grocery store, when I talk to people I've known for years. Cause while I like being surprised, I think hoping for the best consistently would be a much better way of going about things.

I mean, what would the world be like if everyone stopped jumping to conclusions about people? If we stopped assuming that asians were bad drivers and middle-eastern looking people were terrorists, or that homeless people would just buy alcohol with the money we give them - how would things change?

See, I love being surprised - but I think the world would be a much better place if I stopped jumping to conclusions.

Want.

What has God done for you recently? I mean really - what has He done that you can speak of? When you prayed that He would help you get that job you really want a few months ago, did you get it? Or when you prayed to find the love of your life to quench your inferno of a desire to be loved - did they show up? How about when that person that is close to you was dying and you prayed for them to get better - did they? The chances are that they didn't, so what does this say about this "God" that we claim to be so good, and so loving, and so caring?

When I was in fifth grade I remember laying in bed every night, looking up at the stars and praying that Lauren Mascarella would be my wife one day. At the time I wasn't a Christian so I prayed to stars - you know, like Jiminey Cricket told us to. Had I been a Christian I would have said "Father" instead of "Star light, star bright", but the fact is that I would pray for this every single night. In my fifth grade year book Lauren wrote, "I'm going to a different school, I'll never see you again - have a nice life". I went home a cried. The last time I saw Lauren was in my Junior year of High School, she was very gothic, and very weird - I then started praying to God that that year of praying to stars wouldn't ever come true.

See, it is completely outside of our capibility to know what is best for us. We pay for jobs that are no good for us, loves that will break our hearts and lives that God is ready to take home - then we get mad when we don't get it. We're like the fat kid that always wants candy bars and says mommy doesn't love them when they don't get it - we're sick.

We diminish or relationship with God that we would have with a magic 8-ball.

I don't think we'll ever figure it out until the day we go home.

The Road of Life

At first, I saw God as my observer, my judge, keeping track of the things I did wrong, so as to know whether I merited heaven or hell when I die. He was out there sort of like a president. I recognized His picture when I saw it, but I really didn't know Him.

But later on when I met Christ, it seemed as though life was rather like a bike ride, but it was a tandem bike, and I noticed that Christ was in the back helping me pedal.

I don't know just when it was that He suggested we change places, but life has not been the same since.

When I had control, I knew the way. It was rather boring, but predictable . . . It was the shortest distance between two points.

But when He took the lead, He knew delightful long cuts, up mountains, and through rocky places at breakneck speeds, it was all I could do to hang on! Even though it looked like madness, He said, "Pedal!"

I worried and was anxious and asked, "Where are you taking me?" He laughed and didn't answer, and I started to learn to trust.

I forgot my boring life and entered into the adventure. And when I'd say, "I'm scared," He'd lean back and touch my hand.

He took me to people with gifts that I needed, gifts of healing, acceptance and joy. They gave me gifts to take on my journey, my Lord's and mine.

And we were off again. He said, "Give the gifts away; they're extra baggage, too much weight." So I did, to the people we met, and I found that in giving I received, and still our burden was light.

I did not trust Him, at first, in control of my life. I thought He'd wreck it; but He knows bike secrets, knows how to make it bend to take sharp corners, knows how to jump to clear high rocks, knows how to fly to shorten scary passages.

And I am learning to shut up and pedal in the strangest places, and I'm beginning to enjoy the view and the cool breeze on my face with my delightful constant companion, Jesus Christ.

And when I'm sure I just can't do anymore, He just smiles and says . . . "Pedal."

Unconditional.

How unconditional is our love supposed to be? Is it okay for us to not love gay people cause they're different? Or not love musilms cause a small percentage of them are terrorists? Or not love our brother cause he kicked you in the nuts? I mean -where do we draw the line?

This is something that always blows me away about Jesus - He truly loved everyone, He didn't like everyone, but He clearly expressed His love for everyone. People would interrupt Him in the middle of important sermons by lowering their friends through a roof and setting him right in front of Jesus - did He get pissed? No, praised them, He showed them love. What about the time when the disciples had little faith when they were with Jesus in the storm - did He chastise them? Nope, He encouraged them, He showed them love. Or what about when He was hanging on the cross dying for our sins, did He curse us for putting Him through that? No, he encouraged the thrives next to Him, He showed them love.

So where do we draw the line? No where. Somewhere along the line we decided that we could put conditions on our unconditional love - and I'm trying to change that - in myself.

Gods Voice.

Written 08.07.2010

So trying to write daily is every bit as difficult as I thought it would be. I feel as if my blogs are going to become more of just ramblings of whatever random thoughts fly through my head as I write, and I'm not entirely excited for that. To be honest, for the past couple of days I have written two blogs -one that I realized was total crap about 3/4 of the way through and another which I actually finished - and even though it may be every bit as crappy as the first I wrote - I finished it, so I published it.

I think this month is going to be less of a good exercise on writing, and a really good exercise on trying to tune into God and hear Him daily. But what does it feel like to hear God? I mean, is it an audible voice that is booming and sounds like James Earl Jones? Cause if that's the case - I've never heard from God.

When I pray I listen, I really do - I'll sit there and say nothing for long periods of time, and I hear nothing. But I have heard God, not with my ears though - with my heart.

I can remember specifically when I was praying about possibly pursuing a relationship with Jen. I was on this kick where I wanted to be single and I in no way wanted to even entertain the possibility of dating anyone. We had been hanging out for a few months and I started to develop some strong, undeniable feelings for her - So I told her that I didn't think we should hang out cause I was starting to have feelings for her. Thinking back on that - I have no idea how she ever went for me after I said that. Anyway, after that I started praying for a relationship for the first time in my life - instead of asking for something from God like I always had before, I just asked God to speak to me about it. After a couple weeks of doing this I felt this peace come over me, then for the first time in a couple of years I actually had the desire to be with a girl, and it was clear to me it was Jen. So I pursued it, and I will never regret that decision.

So I guess what I'm getting at, is that God speaks to us all differently - I'm not saying He won't speak to you audibly, but I am saying that He will speak to you. It may not be the way you want, but you'll know when He does.

Community

Written 08.06.2010

Tonight my life group and I are going up to Arrowhead for a weekend of hanging out and being awesome - you know, that's how we roll. I've been thinking a lot about community lately and it's importance to us in our lives.

The Bible tells us the importance of having close friends in our lives, it uses the analogy of iron sharpening iron - I mean, are you going to sharpen iron with wood, or platstic? Nope. We need equals in our lives, or we'll become - dull.

While I make every attempt to surround myself with a diverse group of friends that will keep me relevant and real, I also recognize the importance of connecting with a close group of friends that will help me grow in the right direction, and that I can help do the same for them.

So what are we doing up here? Hanging out, talking, playing random games, growing closer together. No, we don't have a structured schedule of bible readings and quiet times - not that I'm against any of that, but our focus is on growing as a community - and I love it.

See, when we go back down into the real world with smog and traffic and bad drivers, we will be more effective as a group and in turn we will be more effective for God - and I'm pretty stoked about this.

Sufficient.

I watched the documentary "The Devil Came on Horseback" tonight, it's a documentary on the genocide going on in Darfur. I've been well aware of the genocide in Darfur and a member of "Save Darfur" for years - but what does any of that mean?

Tonight after finishing the film Jen stood up, looked around and said, "I want to go there." "Darfur?" I responded, "No, Chad. I want to do something to help those displaced." I was instantly negative and cynical about it saying that there's not much we can do and even if we did help the refugees that have escaped to eastern Chad, what they really want is to go back to a safe home - but our government is more concerned with the almighty buck than about that.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized how on track Jen was - I mean, why get so wrapped up in the endless maze of politics when you can help people now? Why allow the indifference of politicians dictate whether I still help? Why allow myself to be so easily defeated? I can think of no acceptable answers to any of those.

See, it's easy to find myself in this world wrapped up in money and politics and so many other things, that I forget whom I'm serving - God.

I've read the Bible ( and payed attention during the interesting parts ) enough to know that there was never a man of God that stood up and said "My government is doing nothing no matter how many letters I write - so, evil prevails." I actually see story after story of the exact opposite - God prevailing even when man thought He couldn't.

So I don't know what I can do, and I don't know what God wants me to do - but I want to be that man, the man that isn't defeated because the whole world gives up - the man that lives like he actually believes God is sufficient.

Legislating Morality.

This blog is going to be a solid blog of solely my opinion. I know what I'm going to say will be controversial and that some people have some very strong opinions opposite of me, and I'm fine with that - so let me throw it all out there.

I think homosexuality is a sin. Let me clarify, I think acting on homosexuality is a sin. In fact I think a lot of things are sins, and ultimately - I think that it's something between each person and God.

Back in Biblical times, specifically Jesus' time, there were these guys called Pharasiees. These guys knew the laws of the Old Testament like grapes know the vine. Not only did they know it, they felt it was their responsibility to make sure everyone else knew when they were screwing up - and they were good at it. Another thing about these guys - Jesus couldn't stand them. They had become so legalistic that they destroyed the main thing that God wanted - a relationship. To sum it up, Jesus came, claimed to be God, claimed His sinless death would pay the price for all of our sins better than any amount of laws could, and then He died. Three days later He showed back up proved He was legit.

Now fast forward two thousand years. We're sent to the polls to tell gay people they can't get married - if they do get married it apparently ruins the meaning of marriage and will create more earthquakes - cause apparently that's how God does things. Prop 8 passes, gay people can't get married, and they're pissed at Christians - and rightfully so if you ask me.

To be completely honest, I voted yes on Prop 8. I believe strongly in marriage, it is valuable beyond words to me and I will fight to support it. That's what I thought I was doing. I likened it to a non-Christian wanting to get baptized, and that in some way that would diminish the value of my baptism. I now realize how ridiculous it is for me to believe that by someone with different values for these things taking part in them it somehow ruins it - I mean if that were the case then Christians have been ruining to value of marriage for years with the rampant divorce.

See, my understanding of Jesus is that He loved us all no matter how light or dark we were, no matter how manly or feminine we were, no matter how gay or straight we were - He believed His love could transform hearts. See, ultimately God is the one who decides the punishment for our sins, but the Pharasiees wanted to be part of that punishing too - and apparently so do some Christians today. I have never heard someone say how much they appreciate, love and respect a cop after they get a speeding ticket - but I've heard it tons of times when a cop saved a life. Jesus wants us to love, that's what will make people see how real He is and how much they need Him - legislating morality isn't.

To get back to where I started, when California, with great financial support from Christian organizations and churches passed Prop 8, we drove a wedge between us and the gay community. At the same time we daily open the doors to our churches and welcome every other sinner with open arms. We need to show them that we love them, and if you can't love someone that is gay - that's between you and God. Cause the truth is that Jesus loves me no matter how much of a mess I am - and I need to be striving to be more like Him - daily.

Nice.

I can think of at least three specific moments in my life where I have been told that I am too nice. The people that told me this weren't being gracious, or thankful - they literally believed that by me being nice I would somehow be hurt. I find this to be a very interesting conclusion to come to because honestly, it in no way crossed my mind that it was possible to be hurt by being nice. But is it?

One of these specific moments was during my first semester of Anatomy. My lab table was right next to one of two microscope lockers in the class - so half of the class would come over to where my station was within the first several minutes of class to get their microscopes if we were using them, and the last few minutes of class when they had finished. The lab portion of the class began at 8:10am, and it ended at 11:40am - Three and one half hours of class. I decided on the second day of class that I would help everyone out by handing out the microscopes and putting them away ( In full disclosure, my motives were somewhat selfish because on the first day of class I was unable to start my studies until after everyone got their microscopes anyway since they were constantly bumping into me and maneuvering around me while they tried to get their microscopes and put them away - but this isn't what my lab partners saw ) Either way, I dedicated maybe a full seven minutes per lab assisting others with their microscopes. I was also one of the first people in the class to figure out how to use the microscope, so for the first few weeks I would assist others when they couldn't figure it out. After a few weeks one of the girls in my lab group, Veronica, pulled me aside to tell me that I was being too nice by helping others and that if I didn't leave everyone to their own devices and focus on my studies that I would probably end up getting a bad grade in the class. So I stopped.

Yes, I know - looking back on it and seeing how silly it is to believe that giving away maybe ten minutes out of 210 would hurt my grade I wonder why I stopped too - but regardless, I did. Over the next several sessions I had people give me some strange looks when I wasn't handing out the microscopes, or when I would say that I couldn't come help them dial in their microscope and Veronica always assured me by saying "See, they started expecting it of you - ungrateful bastards" - and I believed it. Until one day when another one of my lab partners, Chrissy asked me why I had stopped. I went on to explain how valuable our time is in here and how people can't depend on me to help them - then she said something that I will never forget, something that will always resonate within me, she said "Yea, that makes sense - it's just kind of a bummer cause it was nice to see you in action daily giving a minute here and a minute there to help others when you knew you would get nothing out of it - it was just nice to see that there still are some good people out there, it gave me hope." During my time in Wales I learned a term, it was "gutted". My friends out there would say that when something crappy happened, something that gave you that feeling in your stomach like everything had just dropped - like you had just been gutted. She went on to tell me that a few of the other students had asked her why I had stopped because they felt the same way - these were the students that were giving me funny looks.

So I started doing it again, much to Veronica's dismay and protest - and I was okay with that.

See, somewhere along the line we got this idea that being nice was a weakness - that by being nice we are allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, and vulnerability is always a bad thing - right? I mean, when I open a door for someone, or volunteer my truck and time to help someone move, or take some time out of my day to go spend time with a friend that's going through a rough time - I'm setting myself up to be taken advantage of in the future, to be expected to open the door all the time, or help moving, or take time for a friend - right? And that's a bad thing, isn't it? No.

The truth is, people will take the things you do for granted. People will take advantage of people when they are nice - but not everyone. See, when I stopped helping with the microscopes I thought the people were looking at me because they couldn't take advantage of me anymore - but the truth was far from that. Maybe a few people thought that, but for the most part people just appreciated what I did. The truth remains the same for anything, if I give some money to a homeless person - some will by food, some will buy booze - but who cares, does their action affect where my heart was at the time I helped? No.

Of course we need to make sure we don't allow people to excessively abuse how nice we are, but who cares if someone occasionally abuses it? Maybe in seeing me consistently help them it's slowly doing a work in their heart - maybe not - but there's always the possibility, and I'm will to risk it.

Cause in all honesty, when I am old and ready to go home - I would rather have lived my life making myself vulnerable to the good and the bad, than never opening myself up for either.

Titles

I've been thinking a lot about titles lately, and by lately I mean for like the past ten minutes. We live in a world that embraces titles, man, woman, American, Christian, black, white, doctor, so on and so forth. I think that titles are a way for us to feel connected to other people that are in the same groups we put ourselves in, I mean it's kind of like when I find out that someone else likes Cactus Cooler as much as I do. Now I can talk to this person about how great the pineapple is, or maybe how incredible the orange is, or how crazy it is when those two get together and fuse into pure awesomeness. Either way, this person and I now have a connection and we can relate to each other through this.

While some people may find that to be a silly analogy, ( okay it is ) it's still something we do. I mean when I was in Europe, while I totally dug the accents ... Something made me feel comforted to hear an American accent.

The more I thought about this, the more I started to realize that this may be what's wrong with the world ... okay, there's a lot more than just that wrong with the world, but I think that this may be one of the core issues.

See, when we obsess over these titles what we're really doing is obsessing over our differences, cause while my love for Cactus Cooler may connect me with a few people, it will most likely distance me from much more and this can be said about any title we slap onto ourselves.

The reason we have so many troubles in the Middle East is because we label ourselves Christians and Americans and they label themselves Iranian or Afghany and Muslim before either of us label ourselves HUMAN. They think we are immoral heathens and we think they're radical terrorists, and that's where we leave it, no chance for any type of relationship. Now that's kind of an extreme example but I think we use this daily in other smaller ways. Interactions with the fast food employee, bank teller, solicitor outside of the grocery store, homeless man on the corner, these people aren't people to us, they are those things I just labeled them, and nothing more than that, and if we don't have any of those things in common with them ... the chances of us connecting with them is remote, and I think that's where a lot of our problems come from.

What would happen if we allowed the people we randomly come in contact with throughout our days become real people, instead of just a title? I can only think of good things.

Things.

Last month Jen's condo was broken into twice. Well ... to be more accurate, her condo was broken into once and her garage was broken into once. From the condo her sister's laptop was taken, and from the garage, Jen's iPod, iPod cable, my bike, and my tools. It's a strange feeling to know someone has gone into your private places and taken your things. And while these things may hold a strong sentimental value to you, they hold nothing but a monetary value to that person that has taken them. But to be honest, the most concerning thing for me was not that these things had been taken, rather it was that I no longer felt that Jen and her sister were safe in their condo, and that's much worse than worrying about things.

See, the things that were taken meant a lot to all of us. Erica's laptop was a key source to her communicating with friends, studying, and holding memories ... ton's of pictures and music and other things gone ... forever. I gave Jen her iPod for Christmas two years ago, I got the back engraved with something corny that I will withhold from here so I can retain the tough-guy image that I pretend people have of me. I'm sure Jen has ton's a memories of things she has done, or places she has been while listening to music on that iPod, but now it also is gone ... forever. I'm sure I have some great memories of fixing stuff with those tools, but honestly I just felt more manly knowing I had a bunch of tools in my girlfriends garage. And the bike ... Jen got me this sweet beach cruiser for my birthday last year, and we have some great memories of things we did with our bikes. Apart from the many times we took them down to Huntington and rode up and down the beach and over on Main Street I have one particular memory that was pretty awesome. We drove down to the Newport Beach Brewing Company with our bikes in the bed of Jen's truck ... while I refused to admit it originally, the bed on her truck is longer than mine and the bikes did fit better in there, but anyway. We had probably one of the most mediocre lunches ever at NBBC and then we left the truck there and rode our bikes to the beach. We cruised down for a little bit, away from the more popular areas until we reached a spot that was a little more low key. We parked our bikes in front of a little restaurant and walked down to the shore. We played in the water for a bit, laid on the beach for a while and then walked back to our bikes. I distinctly remember not having anything dry to wear and have to ride the bike back a couple of miles still wet and eventually having to drive back to her place still wet. Now while that story would never make it as a television episode or anything, I remember us having a great time ... and it will be a memory that I never forget. Which brings me to my point.

See, when someone broke in a stole our stuff, all they got was stuff. And while it was easy at first to be bummed that someone that had no respect for the sentimental value of these items was now in possession of them, the truth is that the memories still exist, and those can't be taken ... (Unless someone pulls some crazy "Inception" junk on me, but I don't think that's gonna happen ... or maybe it is now, where is my totem? Sorry.) But the more that I thought of the connection between the things and the meaning behind the things the more I realized that now that these things were gone, in some way the meaning behind those things now meant more. Yah, I think I even lost myself on that last sentence. See, when I take a feeling, an emotion and try to turn it into something tangible by saying "That bike represents the good times we had at the beach and riding through the park", in a way I'm diminishing the true value of those good times. Cause in reality, we represent the good times we had at the beach and riding through the park. The bikes were just the vessels, but we were the ones that were actually experiencing it, we were the ones that were actually making the experience valuable. Not the bikes.

I was really bummed about my bike being gone, I was even more bummed about the iPod I got Jen being gone ... but the fact is that even though they're gone, what they stood for still exists. I mean, if someone took your favorite Bible, would it rock your faith? I hope not. If someone stole your wedding rings, would your marriage end? No way. But I feel like somehow, we put a lot of emphasis on these material things and forget about the true meaning behind them, and I'm honestly somewhat thankful that these things were taken ... because it reminded me of the true value of the meaning, and the experiences ... apart from the things.

But that doesn't mean I wouldn't punch the person that did this right in the nose if I ever met them ... You know, just to thank them.