Pots and Pans

Remember when we formed those lines with animals torn in half

bloody and grotesque?

But then I fell asleep

and you walked through alone saying

"Its probably better this way."

oh the pots and pans and stranger things

I try to stop you from loving me

And you laugh

Wedding Day

There they go the church bells ringing

Can you see the steeple top

Men in suits, children playing 

And all this is for us.

People sitting waiting talking

Laggards run and take a seat

A silence fills the chapel

And my heart skips a beat

Did you e’er see it coming

Love we swore not for us

But your kindness never faltered 

And my heart learned to trust

Now I’m standing by the alter

Giddy like a lil kid

And my breath keeps getting faster

And my knees ‘bout to give

There’s no one, no no one 

I’d rather be here with

There’s no one, no no one

Who gets me like you did

Do you see the path of flowers 

All the hope connecting us

The little girls they giggle 

As I crane to see my love

And when those doors they open

All my doubts lose their strength 

Cause this is what we always wanted

And I cannot look away

There’s no one, no no one 

I’d rather be here with

There’s no one, no no one

Who gets me like you did

Do you feel your hand in mine

All my fears dissipate 

I smile so big it hurts

thought I’d ne’er see the day 

As your lips brush mine the people stand 

They Clap they shout 'n' roar 

We’ve got our happy ending

And e’ryday we’ll have one more

To have and to hold

I promise every morrow

In sickness and in health

In rags or wealth

In laughter and in joy

May we love and serve the Lord

And when we meet our end

May we say we say once again

There’s no one, no no one 

I’d rather be here with

There’s no one, no no one

Who gets me like you did

America

I used to love the homeless man
but now I’m scared he’ll bite my hand
take my money and buy alcohol.

I used to love the aliens
but now I know they steal my tax
so I agree let’s kick them out and watch them starve

My friends are gay and quite I’m confused
So I read some blogs on what to do
but all are proud of battle lines

And now its all becoming clear
What the point of life is here
"Love, laugh just have some fun
You’re saved, you’re done"

america, land of the free
america, where Jesus is who
you want Him to be


So lets all go turn off our brains
grab our iPhones and watch the game
binge on a show and sit and hope
that someday somethings change

And all around me things try to grow
as I watch for likes on Facebook posts
And when we all try to be heard
mockingbirds, we’re mockingbirds

We use our freedom to make more laws
and with our privilege build more walls
to keep the sick from getting well
to condemn the seeking straight to hell

Whitewashed tombs with comfort gods
Ignore the poor and clothe our dogs
We were made for so much more
than what we buy, consume, or store

america, land of the free
america, where Jesus is who
You want Him to be

And we’re not into sanctification
But we’ll take the gifts.
And the Holy Spirit freaks us out
So we leave him out of this
And I feel like I’m drowning slowly
“Being saved” can feel like chains
Oh Jesus we need you dearly
When we lead, we lose the way

Your Real Name

comfort, distraction, and the pursuit of placation
that’s the gospel which names you king.
ambition, pictures, scrolling through facebook.
addict, who sleeps in designer dreams.
gaza, russia, famine, disease
slipped into hash-tags. at last we care
beyond what we want. amazon prime.
consumer. diagnosed. balloon without air.

but my friend
hold fast to the flickering heart
there's a light, a hope, a life, a love,
a voice that comes beyond the noise.
calling a name you haven't yet heard.
your real name. Beloved.

The Darkest Light

The sun long-ago burned the flesh from my bones,
exposed with no place to hide.
The drought-cracked dirt fills canyons of hurt
And crows have eaten my eyes.
My heart still attached, full of dust and trash,
longs to connect. It beats on.
If they asked me to tell how I came to know hell,
I fear that I would just lie.

I dismiss my soul, though it won’t let go.
Tenacious it holds hope of
A doctor somewhere in the hot desert air
who would not be sick at the sight
Of a faithless heart and an scavenged mind,
the smell of dried bones and death.
Why not oh my soul relinquish your hold
There is no rescue ahead.

As the wind blows thoughts around in my chest,
Sights and sounds come rushing back
Of love that had won and then lost its way
long before it gave out strength
of a younger man full of life and guile
Who traded it all for whores

I wake up from dreams and see my love close.
My skin intact I'm alive.
Her pretty face shines uncertainly asleep
in the light that steals my life.

Identity, Wanderlust, and the Problem with Being a Wild Stallion (pt. 2)

Introduction

I wrote the previous blog post to communicate a little of the background into what I have been feeling the last several months.  I am writing this one to share what I’ve been learning in the last week about this season of my life.

Many of the lessons I’ve been learning stem from the book “The Meaning of Marriage” by Timothy and Kathy Keller and if I could sum it all up in one sentence, it would be as follows: our identity is formed in the promises that we make and believe.

Identity

Feeling restlessness or wanderlust sometimes transcends being solely an emotional experience for me, if I’m not careful it tries to define who I am. Some part of my mind whispers I don’t just enjoy traveling, but that I by my nature am transient, not meant to remain still. Another part of my conscious suggests that I haven’t been in a relationship in a while because I was not made for one, or that it just isn’t in the cards for my life. Those subtle voices tempt me to perceive responsibilities and commitments like ominous chains enticing me to become bound to a normal life. Not to mention that they seem to feed off of each other.  One commitment threatens to lead to more commitments.  Relationships often seem the scariest in this regard.  Go on a date, iron out your ten year plan, get a lease, have kids and then you're twenty-five with with no hope until retirement.  I don't want that.  That's freaky. Cynical, but still freaky.  I can't make those commitments! I don't even know who I am yet. 

As I’ve reflected on this fear the last week, I’ve started to ask the following question: What if making commitments plays a central role in knowing who I am?  Currently, I have no commitments to a job, community, lease, or relationship.  The only promise that guides me is my commitment to Christ, and more importantly his steadfast commitment to me.  His promises to me (that He loves me, He forgives me, He will be with me, and He will finish what He started) are the boards with which I built my sailboat to weather the seas of life.  The sailboat in which I know I won’t sink. Still, if I do not anchor myself to a community, or lash my boat aside another, why would I expect to do anything but float through the seas? And I do feel as if I am just floating through the seas. I know my boat is trustworthy in the still waters or fiercest storm. And I know that God has a good story for me. So I am safe, but I still can't help feel like I am adrift.

Don’t Expect the Toy If You Didn’t Order the Happy Meal

I think so many of us try to find ourselves before we commit to anything, which results in spending our twenties jumping from one community to another or one place of employment to the next. I’ve been searching for a home or a place that just clicks in the deepest part of my soul.  Lately it seems, this very searching has kept me away from the very thing I’ve been trying to find.  Maybe I won’t find a home until I commit to staying still.  Maybe I won’t feel secure in a relationship until I commit to making it work.

I think if we are not ready (for a career, home, relationship, etc.), that’s fine.  If that’s the case though, then perhaps we shouldn’t ever expect to feel like we really belong.  How many of us look to feel that sense of belonging before we make a commitment? Ever since college, I’ve been guilty of approaching, church, friendships, and even relationships in this manner.  I want to feel like I belong before I commit to something.  I want it to feel like home before I promise to stay still.  I want the feel the fruits of commitment before I actually put myself out there.  I'm starting to see this isn't how its supposed to work. 

Commitments

No place is a perfect fit, no church works without flaws, no friend group always has a ton of fun, and no one ever marries the right person.  Maybe that's the point of commitment.  It carries us through the lame nights and let’s us laugh about it later.  It causes us to see an area of need in our Church body and let it bother us so much that instead of walking away, we do something about it.  Commitment empowers lovers to be content with friendship while they learn to love again. And it’s in these commitments that I find who I really am.

What if I can’t really know who I am outside of the promises that I make and believe? Emotions are fleeting, goals changing, I mean, even our bodies won’t be the same a year from now.  Many of the roles through which I once helped to define myself don’t even apply anymore (e.g. I know longer view myself as a camp counselor or high school soccer team captain). The majority of current roles probably won’t be applicable in five years. So what remains? Promises. Promises of a good Father to always be there for me, and my promise to Him that I’m in this for life. My promise to my family to put them in front of myself, and my parents promise to always do what they can.  Promises. Commitments. Maybe they aren't the chains I thought they were. Maybe they are anchors: chances to have a community in the middle of the storm.  Chances to find something constant within ourselves.  Chances to find out what we're made of. 

Ending Note

You might have noticed this post has a lot of declarative statements.  That’s not because I have all the answers.  This post has a lot of declarative statements because I think God has been teaching me a lot this last week and I wanted to share what I was learning. I still don’t know what to do with half of this stuff! Commitments still freak me out, and I still want to go drop everything and just travel the world. Yet, I'm starting to see beauty in commitments, and it starts by recognizing that the best thing in my life is a commitment: God's commitment to me.  So while I’m not sure what I want to do, where I want to live, or if I want to be with someone, I want to invite you along for the journey.  Let’s figure out how to do this together.

Identity, Wanderlust, and the Problem with Being a Wild Stallion (pt.1)

A Little Background to the Name

Bravado, fear, and perhaps a little attention seeking.  I'm sure the motivations for creating a Bachelor's Club on a conservative Christian campus swirled together like one's first attempt at a mix drink.   There were about eight of us who rubbed elbows together around that cafeteria table, dramatizing visions of rebellion against the oppressive dating culture that saturated the environment around us. We voted that our mascot would be the Wild Stallions, as we were unbridled dangerous men who wished to remain as such.  We would pursue chivalry, act brashly, and offer an alternative to the ring-by-spring dictatorship that has transformed casual coffee dates into pre-engagement, public affairs.  As Wild Stallions we would laugh in the face of societal pressure. Sitting at that cafeteria table, if someone had possessed at that moment some ancient parchment or vellum, each one of us would have probably signed our names in blood under some impressive display of calligraphy.  However, lacking the necessary elements for a ridiculous level of melodrama, we sealed our commitments with laughter, the clinking of clear plastic cups, and the promise to gather on Thursday nights.

Unfortunately, you've probably never heard of the Bachelor Club Revolution sweeping across Christian college campuses.  This wouldn't surprise me. I would attribute this naiveté to the alpha chapter's less than sparkling success.  Within two months, six of the original founding brothers had begun "talking to" or dating girls. This shift in participation naturally effected the recruitment process. Testimony night became a little repetitive, and the school did not officially recognize a club of two. The pair of remaining participants struggled to carry on the vision until one of them offered the survivor best wishes and moved to Ireland. This departure left the club with one member who would soon come to view himself as "the Wild Stallion."

Online Relevant Articles

It might encourage you to know that two years after graduating college, I no longer refer to myself in the third person or insist that people recognize me as "the Wild Stallion." (I think the Holy Spirit prompted this change just in time for job interviews.)  No, in fact, I think my life follows a pretty typical rhythm.  I go to work, think about exercising, alternate between eating salads and indulgent meals, and spend more time than I would like admit to checking to see if I have any new notifications on Facebook.  In the midst of clicking refresh and browsing through a potentially embarrassing amount of an ex-crush's profile pictures, I inevitably follow some link to an online blog or Relevant article. These links usually promise 77 emotion-causing photos or a encouraging checklist of 24 things to do for every possible relationship status in each and every year of a person's young life. 

Lately, some of these articles have been about Wanderlust, which I would define as the strong, reoccurring "need" to have new experiences, to travel, or to be transient.   Most of the time these articles feel like one of those chicken-or-the-egg things.  By the time I've finished reading about the signs of Wanderlust, I've gone from feeling content to wanting to write a two-week notice.  Suddenly, I find myself making Expedia my home page and cursing at capitalism for making plane tickets so ridiculously expensive.  Not that I need a lot of help from these articles to get to this point anyways.  I always want to travel. It seems restlessness fills my marrow and and I long for adventure like I do sunshine after a cloudy week. Don't get my wrong, I enjoy my job, but it still ties me down. Keeps me rooted. After all, a velvet tether is still a tether.

Peter Pan

This blog post has been written with a feeling of excitement and panic in my stomach.  I know I'm not supposed to say the following statement, but here it goes regardless: I don't want to be an adult.  No part of me wants the bills, the house, or the retirement plan.  I don't want kids, commitments, work schedules, nicer clothes, or responsibilities.  I especially don't want anyone to depend on me.  Society can keep their questions concerning when I will start dating people again or whether I am making wise choices to establish a lifelong career. (I'm not. Nor do I wish to.) Perhaps these emotions stem from fear, insecurities, or plain old fashioned resistance to growing up. I'm not sure, although it seems safe to assume that others will form and possibly offer their own conclusions.  Great, I welcome them. I don't know where I am, what I want to do, or what's going awry in this maturation process.

It's just in the end, so much of my heart longs to be unbridled, untethered, and uncommitted.  I feel like I should apologize for this, but I won't. I'm not sorry for how I feel: I don't want to be an adult. I think I just feel the need to apologize because I'm afraid of failing others' expectations of me.

A Song

Verse 1:
8 to 5  five days a week
it's enough to make me crazy
overtime and conference calls
Make sure you know the dress code
It's not bad not bad at all
Just not like what my dreams were
Should I let them drift and die
is that the price of growing up?

Chorus:
I never meant to grow up
I just kept passing classes got a job and did laundry
I never meant to grow up
It's just this older body tries to hide the kid in me
And if you know then stand and sing

Cause we don't want to be
we don't, don't, wanna be
No we don't wanna be adults

Verse 2:
I want to be Peter Pan
but I can't find Neverland
Everyday I wake from dreams
 Go to work and punch a keyboard
Hoping that one day I'll wake
Living the life I dreamed of
Where I don't work for money
and live for the weekends nights
Where my friends call me back
And I have passion in my life
Where I love God and others
And I'm not afraid to fail
Where I believe that I could change the world
I can't change the world

Bridge:
What if this is growing up?
Slowly compromising dreams
filling time so full of stuff
And living for the unlived days
Is there another way to live?
can I just remain a kid?
Cause now people count on me
And expect maturity
And my life stretches out
And I don't really like what I see