Christ's Bride

I'll start this post off with some housekeeping, It's been nine months since I last posted on this blog. If I'm being honest, there's only one reason that I stopped posting.

Pride.

It bums me out when I look at the number of views on a post I wrote and see that only 2 people read the post. I've had some difficulty finding the niche for this blog. My previous blog, The Revolutionary Nazarene, was geared exclusively toward pastoral posts. I wanted pastoral and theological discourse, so I wrote it myself. I quit writing it because people weren't reading it.

I started another blog while Holly was expecting our son Xavier. I stopped writing it because it became simply updates. I couldn't seem to write thoughtful posts enough because my emotions were pretty standard and they weren't really changing as much as her body and his body were changing. "I'm still terrified and nervous. She's at so many weeks. He's the size of a whatever." Those posts got old quickly for me.

So, I started this blog to be more of a catch-all for my various interests. I tried reviewing Friends Seasons and having fun re-watching my favorite show of all time. People liked the first post, but nobody cared after that. I tried playing Madden and making light of the results, and nobody cared about those posts.

All that to say, I can't figure out what people want to read on my blog. If you don't mind, leave me a comment with the types of posts that you'd be most inclined to read. I completely understand with my brain that blogging is more interesting if you have readers, but you only get readers by blogging.

Now, the reason for my post today.

Some of you may know how I feel about a certain Ville of Cedars and their university. While I was at MVNU, they were our big rivals. Games against Cedarville were always a total blast to be a part of, especially from my seat on the sidelines.

I generally disdain all Cedarville thoughts, references and so forth.

Today I went to their chapel service.

It was amazing.

First off, the chapel is designed in a way that allows for the worshiper to actually hear the voices around him. I could hear everyone else singing. This is one of those things that we are losing in the church for a number of reasons, but this college chapel service absolutely landed the experience of worshiping together. Of course, I could've just been in the best seat for that acoustical experience. But, either way, it absolutely enhanced my experience today.

Second, I had a sort of theological epiphany. We sang the song You're Beautiful by Phil Wickham. It was a new one for me, but the song mentions the way the bride sees her groom.

I had a few thoughts as we sang this, thinking about how I felt when I saw my bride for the first time on our wedding day, and thought about the way Christ sees his Bride, the Church.

I struggle with the Church sometimes, as most millennials do. I have trouble with her flaws, her imperfections, her troubles. Because she's not perfect. She's still in progress and she gives me a lot of trouble.

But Christ died for her. And that's enough for me.

I'm in.

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Monday Nitro and the Worst Night of our Lives

On January 18, 1999, my best friend, Marc, and I, were preparing to enjoy the night at WCW's Monday Nitro, which was in Columbus. We were both big wrestling fans, and we were super excited to go to the show that night, where we had floor seats. We had spent the weekend at a church retreat and gotten back that day.

We were at my house (which was in the ghetto), preparing for the show. How do three teenage boys (our friend Jeremiah was also coming to the show with us) prepare for a wrestling show where they'll have floor seats?

Signs. Lots of signs.

We were making signs for the show.

Marc and I recount this night as one of the worst nights of our collective lives. Here's why.

As we were making the signs, we got into an altercation with some boys from the neighborhood who were looking for my little brother. They came to the place looking for a fight, and I, being the master of calming people down, just poured gasoline on their fire.

At first they wanted to fight me. I masterfully convinced them that they didn't need to fight me, they'd win. Then, they decided they wanted to fight Marc. He wasn't able to convince them they didn't need to fight him. Chaos broke loose.

Jeremiah ran into the bathroom.

I ran into the kitchen.

Marc took a beating.

Another neighbor threw the boys off of Marc and chased them from the house. We called parents and police (in that order). We deadbolted the door and buckled down for our parents to come back (they all had made plans doing other things).

Eventually the police came and asked us why we were so stupid to let the punks in the house.

I genuinely have no idea why I am so stupid and let the punks in the house, but I feel absolutely sure that it was me and not Marc or Jeremiah who did so.

The police officer also asked why I abandoned my friend when he was getting beat up.

I genuinely have no idea why I abandoned my best friend when he was getting beat up.

After all of the chaos from getting jumped in my house died down, we finally made our way to the Schottenstein Center for Monday Nitro! We still had floor seats, so it was going to be AMAZING!!

However, we got to Nitro and realized, when we looked at our tickets, that our friend had mixed the tickets up and given us tickets to Disney on Ice.

We were devastated! Jeremiah had gotten his tickets earlier, so he just went into the show, leaving Marc and I outside like chumps! We were taken into the security office where they decided they were going to let us stay and watch the show, but we didn't get our floor seats. Instead, we sat right next to the entrance in between the lower and middle bowl (the handicapped aisle).

I literally remember nothing about that show. I found it on YouTube, so I'll definitely be watching it.

The reason I tell this story today is because tonight, Marc and I are making our triumphant return to the Squared Circle. We're heading to the Nutter Center tonight for RAW.

I'm super excited to enjoy my first wrestling show (Honestly, I've stricken the first time from my memory as best I can).

This year, we both turn 30, what better way to start the year than by going to WWE together and reliving our teenage years. We had wrestling parties, PPV parties, backyard-trampoline matches (I can tell you with ABSOLUTE ASSURANCE that Bret Hart's Sharpshooter hurts like CRAZY!) and many moments of watching wrestling and/or talking about it non-stop.

Marc and I at my wedding... still JUST. TOO. SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!!!!!!!!

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2013: A Review

2013 was a big year for me and my family. I started the year living with my in-laws and working as a part time cook making nearly minimum wage at a restaurant. I ended the year working full-time as a pastor again, living on a farm!

I've taken some time and thought about ten of my favorite experiences/memories of the year. Here they are, in no particular order.

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26.2

In 2009, my friend Daniel got me to start running. I had flirted with running before, but had never been able to get past the DTR discussion. I would run for a week or so, then give it up because... couch. But this time, I used the Couch to 5k program. It was already popular then, now it's uber-popular! I ran my first ever 5k in June of that year.

I floundered with my running until the next summer, when I picked it back up. At church, my friend Nate said he wanted to run the USAF Half Marathon. I volunteered Daniel and I to run it with him. I spent the whole summer training for the Half and ran it in September of 2010. I'll never forget, after the race, Nate asked me if this made me want to run a full marathon. For him, there was no chance, the half had convinced him that he wouldn't be running a full, ever. I had the opposite reaction, I wanted to run a full at some point.

In 2011, I didn't do a lot of running, just periodically. I actually finished the year really strong in 2011, joining a couple of friends in a challenge to run every single day from Thanksgiving Day through New Years Day. I didn't miss a day, and finished the year with a 10-miler (which was my longest run since the half the year before).

Late Spring of 2012, my friend Nick asked me if I'd run the Columbus Marathon with him that year. I eagerly said YES! Well, in June, I was fired from my job. I kept running until the end of July, when it all fell apart. I didn't start running again until 2013.

This year, I started running in the Spring, then decided that I'd run the Columbus Marathon. I invited everyone I knew who was even mildly into fitness/running. They all declined. Solo training would become the mantra of my summer. I was absolutely determined to run in the Columbus Marathon, no matter what happened in my professional life.

Last Sunday was finally the big day! Training had gotten old and boring for me, I had been missing lots of days, so I was eager to finally get the marathon over with, that way I could cross it off my list and be done with the race.

I had looked over the course all week, agonized over what I'd wear and what kind of pace I'd be able to run. I got into Columbus early in the morning and found my corral, which I eagerly considered my first win of the day. (On a side note, Columbus Marathon, it'd be nice to direct toward the corrals a little better. I found the A corral with no problem, a sign indicating "B, C and D corrals this way" would've been awesome!)

I waited in the corral for over an hour (early to get there, woot woot!), nervous. My teeth chattered the entire time because I was so nervous. There was a guy in the corral who was talking to some women who were about to run their first half-marathon. He said, "There are 18,000 people running today. That represents one-half of one-percent of the population of Central Ohio. You've already won today because you showed up." He repeated this about 25 times between the first time I heard it and when we finally started running. Seriously, this guy was the bomb. Greatest stranger motivation I'd ever heard!

Finally, we moved into the start position. One of the cool things about this marathon is the staggered start. They rerun the start four times, so each group gets to experience the magic and awesomeness that is the starting line. Fireworks, cheers, music and the surprisingly loud sound of thousands of feet hitting the pavement. I looked, in vain, for my wife and her parents who were at the starting line to wish me well. There were so many people!

The early part of the run, I maintained a pace that I knew was faster than what I'd be able to keep throughout the race, but I didn't want to slow down. In hindsight, that was probably a mistake. The spectators were amazing, I saw my super awesome friends Penny, Adam and Micki! They were cheering all the runners, but I suspect most of Micki's cheers were for her husband Troy who was running in his first ever half.

The signs all over the course made the day WAY better! I saw one twice through Bexley that said, "I don't know you, but I'm proud of you!" Seriously, stranger motivation, ftw! On the way into Bexley, we saw the people who were going to win the marathon and the half-marathon. They were absolutely killing it, I hoped to see my friends Dave and Ryan running the opposite way, but I didn't see them. The runs through Bexley and then through German Village were awesome. I'm super familiar with both parts of town, so it was nice to see them on foot, since that was a new experience for me.

I knew, from my looks at the course all week, that High Street was going to be the mentally difficult part of the course. It's not the hardest part of the course (that comes later), but it was going to be mentally difficult. Midway up High Street, the half marathoners turned off the course and got the wonderful blessing of being finished! There was a huge sign at the 13.1 mark that said, "Now the fun begins" Nothing about the next 10 miles was even remotely fun. I promise.

Towards the end of High Street, at mile 16 (or so), I hit the mental wall. I started walking. Once we got near the Horseshoe, I decided that I had to do some more running, because... Buckeyes. Running into Ohio Stadium was an awesome experience. The super steep hills that await you to enter and exit weren't that welcome, however!

Miles 20-23 were brutal, that's the most difficult part of the course for a few reasons. First, it has the most uphills and second, it's just boring. You run through residential areas and parking lots. The half marathoners are gone, so there are considerably fewer participants. It's just grueling to get through it. I walked/ran through this part, lots of stiffness and pain.

I was very frustrated with myself for walking so early, it just killed my momentum. I was determined to finish, and I really wanted to finish running. At the 22.5 mark, I thought to myself, "At 23, all that's left is a 5k. Even on my worst day, I can run a 5k. Even right now, I could run a 5k." So, I committed to running the entire thing after the 23rd mile marker.

Once I passed the marker, I started running, and I didn't stop. I had to mentally tough it out a few times as I'd think, "Nobody knows the deal I made, I could just walk a little bit." But I knew the deal I had made, and I wasn't willing to let myself down in such a way. There were SNACKS at one point near the end! Orange pieces, Oreos, pretzels, skittles, bananas! I grabbed all that I could carry so that I could get a little snack in to finish strong. I was most excited for the banana, then the girl running next to me dropped her banana on the ground after unwrapping it. She stopped to pick it up. Read that again. She stopped to pick it up. She was going to eat it. I couldn't let that happen, so she got my banana, and I got karma (which I don't believe in, even slightly).

As I was in the final mile, I saw an older guy on a stretcher about to go into an ambulance. My heart broke for him because he was so close! It was at that point that I began to think about the gravity of what was happening in my life. I was never even remotely athletic in my entire life and I was going to do something amazing. I was about to finish pushing my body over 26.2 miles! I genuinely started to tear up before I had to snap myself out of the emotion. I told myself that I couldn't, under any circumstances, waste any hydration on tears!

As I neared the finish line, I saw my friends Penny and Adam!! I actually stopped for a second and gave Adam a great big kiss on the cheek. I had to celebrate! As I got closer, I saw my wife and family cheering me on! They were right at the final turn on the course. This was the moment pride kicked in.

As I passed them, I waved, and a girl passed me on the course. There was no chance I was letting her finish that race before me. She may not have known we were racing, but I had about a tenth of a mile to pass her! I turned on the jets and made my way up to her, I caught up and passed her on the left. Just as I passed her, though, I tripped on something! I caught myself from falling by a tiny fraction. Seriously, a tiny, tiny fraction! The entire crowd on the left side of the street took a huge breath as they saw me almost face plant onto the bricks outside Nationwide Arena!

I didn't fall, and I ran across the finish line! Took me 5 hours and 3 minutes, but I did it!

I was, am, and always will be, a Marathoner!

Final Thoughts:

1. The greatest sign of the day said, "Chuck Norris never ran a marathon."
2. The second greatest said (there were a few of these), "You are running better than the government!"
3. There was a guy on a bike who met the course 5-6 different times and had great motivational signs. He was awesome, even got a high five from me at one point.
4. High fiving all the kids was definitely the way to go! It made the course a lot more fun, even if it did add some time and distance to the race for me.
5. If you ever get the chance, go spectate a marathon, or volunteer at a water station or something. You'll be amazed at what you see.
6. I finished the race and said it was my first and last race. I'd never do it again. By Tuesday, I was already thinking of how to do better the next time. I think it's official, I'm an addict.

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Showing love...

One of the most awesome things about the church where I'm ministering is that we do a Wednesday night outreach ministry. Our community has a lot of needs, and one of those is food. So, every Wednesday night we prepare a meal for the people of our neighborhood.

Last night, they came in droves! In the youth ministry alone we had 40 people (about 10 more than usual). Counting everyone, I think we had 100 people in our outreach program.

It was also the first day of school, which meant that every single student was totally wired. I knew it was going to be a rough night, I knew they'd be quite antsy and, being honest, even on their best day, they're not the best group of listeners in the world.

Last night was rough.

I spent more than half of my time just quietly waiting for the students to be quiet enough that I could speak. I threw about half of my plan out the window since I spent so much time quietly standing there.

The children's group didn't fare any better.

The ladies who prepare the food were down as well. Everyone was quite defeated. This morning, I stumbled upon a quote from someone I've connected very minimally with through facebook. Brannon said:

"I'm glad our fumbling attempts to be instruments of grace don't impede God's redemptive work."

He wasn't really speaking about my issue, he was talking about serving the Eucharist, but his words spoke deep to my heart.

Even on our bad nights, God is still doing a redemptive work through us. May we continue to believe in His power, even when we feel weak.

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Book #6 - The Shame and the Sacrifice

Dietrich Bonhoeffer is one of those characters in history that I wanted to read more about. I'll be honest, biographies are generally my least favorite genre of book to read. The problem isn't the historical significance, it's the inane amount of fluff that seems to be present in them. It took a while to get through this because there was a lot of fluff that I found to be uninteresting, and therefore picking the book up to read it was a chore at times.

It didn't help that this reading fell over the job transition into Hillside, so it was a pretty busy time in my life.

Anyway, this biography on Bonhoeffer was full of the fluff that I find frivolous, but it did have some definite gems and some major points to make about the way Christians reacted and were treated in the growth of the Nazi movement throughout Germany.

The insight into the German psyche following World War I helps a reader who is 70 years removed from the Second World War to understand a little more of how it was possible that a man like Hitler ever came into such a dangerously powerful role. As I read this, I remembered learning some of it in high school history.

But the impact on the church was relatively impactful for me, since the church is my vocational setting and primary concern when reading a book like this.

How did the Christians of Germany allow themselves to get so taken by the horrible Nazi movement? How did they so quickly and easily lose sight of Christ, the Prince of Peace?

One word. Nationalism.

There are some incredible parallels to be made between the German church of the 1920's and 30's along with the American church of the early 2000's. I'm afraid the nationalistic tendencies are running rather deep here, too, with many "American Christians" identifying first as Americans then as Christians, similar to their German predecessors.

We should all be quick, I think, to learn a lesson from these German Christians and understand that our Kingdom is not of this world. We are dual citizens, but our primary citizenship is in Heaven and because of this, we should allow heavenly thought to impact each of our decisions, regardless of our American citizenship.

I feel obligated to make a clear point of what I am not saying. I'm not suggesting that we burn our flags. I'm not suggesting that we move to another country. I'm not suggesting that America sucks. I'm not suggesting that Christians shouldn't feel blessed to have a freedom of worship guaranteed by the Bill of Rights.

It is most assuredly a blessing to live in America, but it's a far greater blessing to be a citizen of Heaven. Let us never lose sight of that.

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Book #4 - The Land Between

A few years ago, when I was pastoring at High Street, a church on the district got a new youth pastor. He literally started just a few months after me, but I had "seniority" on him, since I was on the district first.

Joel and I quickly became friends. We directed a district retreat together, attended events together and basically just started really enjoying each other's company. We actually were pitted against each other a couple years ago for District Secretary (I won). He went through a difficult time at his church which ended with him leaving for a church in Michigan. He's not an OSU fan, so this didn't bother him nearly as much as it bothered me that he ended up in Michigan.

We've stayed in contact since he left the district (and now that I've left the district in any sort of official capacity). He and his wonderful wife had a baby a few months ago and they instagram tons of pictures so that we can keep up.

Anyrate, a few weeks ago, Joel asked me for my address because he wanted to send me a book. I gave it to him and a couple days later a book called The Land Between arrived in my mailbox. Written by Neil Mancini, this book parallels the difficult times in our lives (like being between jobs) and the struggle that the Israelites felt when they were between Egypt and The Promised Land.

The book was fantastic! If you saw any of my instagram/facebook/twitter (social media junkie!) activity while I was reading it, you know that I was touched by the honesty of the book and the way that it connected with my life.

This past year has been incredibly difficult. Without a doubt, it's been the most difficult thing I've ever gone through (and that includes an almost-cancer scare). But, Mancini summed it up so well as he wrote about his son (who is, coincidentally, named Alex too):

"Though it was a difficult [year] for Alex, I am grateful he had to endure it. I believe God is molding him into a leader, and this molding will require pressure as part of his formation. I am thankful for the trials [he] experiences and for the hardships he faces. It is my belief that he is not only maturing as a man but also as a man of God. I trust that God will use the difficulties and challenges in Alex's life to transform him. Far from being alarmed by [his] burdens, I give thanks, because I know that he is being stretched and pulled for a reason. Alex is being provided with an opportunity to become a man of faith, a man of trust." (emphasis mine)

My prayer is that these things are true, that my "Land Between," my "Exile" has provided me with the opportunity and proven me to be a man of faith, a man of trust.

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The Post I've Been Waiting to Write

On June 16, 2012, I was on my way home from MVNU with a small group of my students. Things at High Street had been very tense for a few weeks. There was a lot of pressure coming from a few individuals on the board that was wearing me thin. Xavier was five weeks old, so sleep was at a premium. All-in-all, I was already high-stress.

We had a conversation in April or May with some of the board and the DS, the DS informed us that finances were somewhat tight at HSN and nobody's job was secure. He told us there would be no hard feelings if we left in the interim because, quite frankly, it would make things a lot less painful. (My wording, not his)

So, I started "looking" then. I had already been down to the "final 2" of a church before June. My resume was already in the hands of a couple churches even after that original interview on the NWO District."

Anyway, back to June 16. I was on my home from BLAST at MVNU and I got a call from a board member asking if I could meet at Tim Hortons. After a few phone calls back and forth, they cancelled the meeting then asked again if I could meet. I asked if it was anything important so that I could prepare myself for the conversation (already having had a number of tough conversations with some board members), they told me it wasn't. So, I went.

My spidey-senses were tingling, I even told my friend Dave (another youth pastor) that I was pretty sure I was being let go. He prayed with me in the parking lot of a Wendys before we parted ways.

I went to the meeting and was, in fact, let go. My ministry at High Street would be over at the end of June. They asked me to keep tight lipped about it and not tell the whole church, they wanted the opportunity to present the facts.

We were absolutely devastated.

In the weeks that followed, we prayed and asked God for direction. I started a more earnest search, enlisting the help of friends who were more connected than I was.

I had a phone interview with a church in Mason, Michigan while I was in Chicago on the HSN mission trip with my students. I sat in the air conditioned van and talked with the church board.

I had a phone interview with a church in San Diego, where I was informed I was the pastor's top candidate.

Then, I made the "Final 4" with Mason. They were having 4 candidates come in to interview for the soon-to-be vacant youth pastor position and I was given the choice of when to come in (which felt like an honor to me). We went first.

After the interview weekend in Mason, we had another phone interview in San Diego, this time with the search committee. The pastor seemed really excited about Holly and I. We were ready to pack our bags for a weekend interview onsite in San Diego.

Then Mason called, they were going with one of the other candidates.

Then San Diego called, they wanted someone more "SoCal."

After months of silence, we got a call from a church in Baltimore. I had a couple phone interviews, then we went out for a weekend interview. I asked if we were the only people being interviewed, basically asking "Is it my job to lose." We were told that there was another interview scheduled, but it was my job to lose.

After the weekend in Maryland, we were ready to move out there, even getting an "unofficial offer" on the last day we were there. After about a month of waiting, Maryland called, they were going with the other guy, he was from the area, his folks actually went to the church.

Cue another couple months wait before getting the call from Marietta. Things went really fast there before getting asked down for a weekend interview. We went down knowing we were the only interview scheduled and the NYI President (who had run the search) was really excited for us to come be the new youth pastor.

We left there knowing they were having a board meeting in 2 days, so we were ready to get the call on Wednesday morning. As Wednesday afternoon rolled around, my senses started going off again; I texted the NYI President and she told me the pastor was going to call me. He did about 5 minutes later, they were going to go with someone else.

That was in April. I even wrote about the absolute heartbreak that accompanied that phone call. You can read it here.

Fast forward a couple months and we got another chance with a church in Springfield. I met the pastor over coffee, we met the search committee then finally the whole church was invited to meet us. I preached there on June 16, 2013 (exactly one year to the day after being fired).

They voted this morning and the vote was "overwhelmingly positive." So, as of tomorrow morning, I'm the Family Life Pastor at Hillside Church of God in Springfield Ohio!

Thank you all, seriously, I can't thank you all enough for your prayers, love and support. The past year was the most difficult year of my life (which is sad because I had such joy with my little boy). There were times when I thought we'd never find another position in ministry. But, we've accepted the position, start there tomorrow.

I'm so excited to be back in the saddle. It feels great to be "pa" again. Note, that's not "Pa" to my hillbilly friends (although there are a couple people who do call me Pa), it's p-a, as in, Pastor Alex!

Thanks for supporting us through our time of Exile, our Land Between and being willing to console through the tears, frustrations, and moments of anger. We count ourselves lucky to have such great friends.

And with this news, I officially cross off the first thing from my list of 30 things to do before turning 30, get back into full time ministry!

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Reflections on the year that was

On May 6, 2012, at about 2 in the morning, my wife made what I've grown fond of calling her "ninja move" out of the bed as her water broke. The next 24 hours were spent in the hospital eagerly awaiting the birth of Xavier.

That day was the culmination of a lot of expectation and the beginning of an entirely new chapter in our lives.

In order to properly place my emotions of that day, a little bit of historical perspective is necessary. Things at my job weren't going well. I knew that there was a chance a staff member was going to be let go before the pastoral search was finished up. We had been explicitly told that it wasn't a problem if we were sending out our resume.

To be honest, the writing was written in big, bold letters on the wall that the staff member who would be let go was me. I was the least tenured of the staff in pastoral ministry, and I had been at High Street the least amount of time. I started sending out my resume, feeling helpless against the onslaught of "things" that were happening to me. I told one of my good friends that I couldn't wait to hold my baby boy. I knew that holding him would make things better.

So, on May 7, when Xavier finally arrived, I felt like my life was complete. Holding him for that first time was literally the greatest feeling I ever felt. I really did feel like nothing could go wrong in my life.

The last year has been a whirlwind. Losing my job was incredibly difficult for me, the idea that I couldn't provide for my wife and my son was difficult. I've spent a lot of time on that here in this blog. I don't suppose I need to go further into detail.

Losing my job isn't the only thing that happened this year! It's been a complete whirlwind!

When we brought Xavier home, we thought we were so ready.

Xavier crashed out on me the day we brought him home.

We. Were. So. Wrong.

We put him to bed, and went to bed ourselves, ready for a night of blissful sleep (something that had eluded me for a few nights and something that had eluded Holly for much longer). He started crying after about an hour and he would not stop! We did everything we could, and couldn't get him to stop crying and go back to sleep. Feeling like complete failures as parents, we both were crying and finally broke down and called Holly's mom, asking her to come stay with us for the night (and maybe more).

Xavier didn't have trouble sleeping, just when we wanted him to sleep, apparently.

 Man, we had no idea what we were getting into!

We moved in with Holly's parents after I lost my job, it's been interesting having three generations in one house. It's not what we had planned, but it's definitely been a blessing, especially as the search for a new job has taken much longer than we thought it would.

Watching Xavier grow has been incredible, he's learning so much, starting to understand things and respond to more and more with "trained" responses. For example, he gives "fives" now if you hold your hand out to him.

The year has been intense. There have been tears.

There have been smiles.

We've traveled to Michigan:

to London (OH) to meet our friends Nate, Kristen and Cole:

Learned to crawl:

Found ourselves trapped in rotten situations that we didn't like:

Felt on top of the world:

And we even stood strong during difficulties:

All in all, it's been a crazy year! Happy birthday to my little monster man! He turns one year old tomorrow. It's an absolute joy to be a daddy!

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Every throne?

We sang a song at church on Sunday. I'm pretty sure I'd heard it before. The song was "Crown Him," by Chris Tomlin. The chorus of the song says,

Majesty, Lord of all

Let every throne, before Him fall

The king of kings, O come adore

Our God who reigns forevermore.

I think a lot of times, we sing words without taking time to digest the complexity or theological significance of the words. So, as I was singing the song, I was struck by the phrase, "Let every throne before Him fall."

That's a really powerful, political statement though, isn't it? It's not just a clever lyric that rhymes and fits with the tempo of the song. 

I was thinking about the thrones that we build in our own lives. For some of us, our thrones are money, cars, sex, drugs or something like that. We generally recognize those things as vices (when placed on thrones or used outside of God's design. 

But what if there are other things we need to remove from the throne? I've been spending time this week considering my own thrones and ensuring that they fall before the Lord. 

What are yours?

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#RunforBoston

I imagine that every family has an odd-ball cousin or uncle or nephew or whatever who doesn't quite fit in. Maybe that person smells bad, or doesn't understand normal social conventions, or whatever.

I feel like I'm that odd-ball cousin of the running family. I enjoy running, but I don't really think of myself as part of the "Running Family." I'm sure my runner friends will disagree with that sentiment, they'll say, "You run, you're in the 'family.'"

But seriously, when I'm running on the roads and oncoming traffic gets over to what I consider a safe distance from my body, or slows down to a near-stop to allow me to run next to them, I always give them the "live-long-and-prosper" made famous by Mr. Spock. Yeah, I'm a nerd runner.

I play the drums while I run. Seriously, if you watch me running, quite often I'm playing the drums with my hands/arms while running. It means I'm not streamlined or efficient in my motions, but why do I care?

I'm slow as Moses. I ran my first (and so far only) half-marathon in 2011. I finished in 2:38. That's 13.1 miles in 2 hours and 38 minutes. To me, it felt Herculean. However, to qualify to run the Boston marathon (if you're under 35), you have to post a sub-3:05 time. That means, I'd have to run 13.1 more miles in about 30 minutes to qualify for Boston. I may be the slowest runner of all time.

But, check this out. I'm perfectly okay with that. Seriously, I don't mind being the awkward cousin of the running family.

We all know what happened on Monday. The bombings at the Boston Marathon actually made me sick to my stomach. Knowing that a lot of people try so hard just to qualify to run that marathon, and then to DNF or be injured in a bombing makes me sick.

But here's what I've learned about runners. Don't ever tell us it can't be done. Never.

Some people might see this tragedy, and think, "I would never put myself in that sort of danger."

That's not what runners do. Never, in my whole life, have I wanted to run a marathon more than I have wanted to this week.

Had I been at Yankee Stadium on Tuesday night, I would've belted out Sweet Caroline at the top of my lungs, because some things are bigger than sports rivalries.

I may never actually Run for Boston, meaning, qualify for the Boston Marathon. But, for the rest of my life, I'll be Running for Boston, because I'll never give up. As my good friend Dave said, "we can't live in fear or it allows the bad people to win."

So, keep running.

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It just started raining

Happy Monday! This is a small piece I wrote a number of months ago. I imagine it's relatively self-explanatory. I'm posting it as a sort of "ode to vulnerability." I suppose it's unfinished (hence the ellipsis at the end), and I imagine it will remain unfinished for the rest of history. I won't spend any more time detailing it, because I don't think it needs to be quantified today, with nearly 9 months of hindsight since writing it.

Take time today to reflect on where you've been in your life.

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It's June 16, 2012 and it just started raining. It is raining metaphorically and literally. I was informed today that my position was being eliminated at High Street.

I'm not being fired, I'm a casualty of the economic realities of this decade. 

Unfortunately, that doesn't make me feel any better.

I suppose it's normal to run a gamut of emotions when you're faced with this situation, I've gone from disbelief to sadness to anger to disappointment and back again.

I don't believe this is happening to me. I don't understand why it's happening now. Despite the insistence that I didn't do anything to cause this to happen, I can't help but feel that there is something I could have done to prevent this. If only I were a better pastor, this wouldn't have happened. 

I'm sad. I really love ministry at high street, I love my students. I absolutely wanted the chance to see some of my students graduate. I can't believe that I'm going to miss the rest of their experiences through high school. I'm sad because I was so excited to work with an awesome pastor like Rob. That won't be happening now. I won't get any of that. Instead, I'm being forced out of a door, and there don't seem to be any doors open to me at this point.

I'm angry for a great many reasons. I'm positive that anger is an appropriate and healthy thing. I'm angry at the people who have asked me to leave. I'm angry at their decision. I'm angry that this is happening t me, at this time in my life. I don't suppose there is ever a good time, but this feels like the worst time. 

I'm disappointed, I really wanted to finish what I started...

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