What Are You Waiting For?

I don't agree with how I live. I say things that I obviously don't mean. I do things I really don't want to do. I talk about the man I want to be, but so far, I'm not that man. I don't agree with how I live.

I'm eighteen, and I believe my best years are ahead of me, but I'm sick of waiting for them. I feel like I have become complacent. For reasons unknown, I have decided to accept the way things are. I have decided that society, bad experiences, and other people can tell me who I am and what my life has to become. I've decided that I just have to accept my faults or my situation or the evil in the world. Why? Someone, explain to me why the hell am I so passive? I don't agree with how I live.

This earth has seen millions of people doing life instead of living it. These people accepted the dominant thinking of their day, pursued only things to which that thinking assigned value, and generally made little difference in history. I don't want that. Those people experienced the philosophy of their day. I want to change the philosophy of my day. Those people were pleasant and content. I want to be excited and happy. Those people breathed oxygen. I want to breathe fire.

Up to now, I have been so damn scared--scared of rejection, scared to fail, scared to try. I can't live like that. I have, honestly, been scared to be as good as I can. I don't do things because I don't want to appear overly weak, overly strong, overly good, overly arrogant, overly quiet, overly smart, overly Christian. So I sit, paralyzed, and instead of doing anything, I wish, wait, or worry.

I can't take it anymore. I can't go another day saying "someday." Never again. Life is short. Life is good. Life is for living, and I'm going to while I have the chance. I'm coming out swinging.

Life As I Know It

This is me, writing another post... Almost two weeks after my previous one. I think I have a thing for procrastinating. I also have a thing for taking on alot. I won't say I try to do more than I can handle, but that might be true. Regardless, when I'm exhausted and still have finished virtually nothing I wanted to accomplish, I can happily (yes, that's sarcasm) thank only one person: me. This week has seen some of that, but it's also seen me feeling more accomplished and motivated... in between the elaborate plans to sell all I could and start for the coast with my car, cash, and no worries or responsibilities to speak of. Though amusing, it's destructive thinking, I know.

So my life these past two weeks has been like this: work, work, and crash. I kind of like it though. When you've got nothing but things to do, life can't be boring. Plus, I've felt really fulfilled. Let me give a quick snapshot of what's been going on in my seven week saga:

• I took an ACT practice test last Thursday and raised my score... Two points! Yeah, that was cool, not even gonna lie. Geeks rule the world.
• I've now completed two weeks of the workout cycle I'm on, and it's left me feeling... sore. Good sore though.
• I still suck at music, which is also what I've done least the past two weeks
• I preached at youth group last night, if you can believe that.

Add in hanging out with friends, band practice, volleyball, church, and working over 20 hours a week, and I've got a full life. Can I handle doing anything else? Probably not. Could I be coerced into trying to do something else. Probably so. It doesn't matter though. Life is kind of fun. The more I remember that, the better. The more fun I can have with it, the better. I've realized in the midst of all my stress and frustration lately, that stress and frustration are pointless. And, honestly, I don't have time for them. It's almost ironic; the schedule that was making stressed out suddenly is not allowing time for that stress.

Was this post of any advantage to you? Maybe not, but it was short, so if you thought it was going to get good ,and then it ended before you started enjoying it (which is hard to believe, because I read it and loved it), you didn't lose much time.

Seven Weeks

I have something geeky to admit. I'm trying to change my life based on my next attempt at the ACT. Yep. Laugh, go ahead, I'll still be good looking when you're done. Anyway, I want to live the life Jesus Christ came to give His followers. I want an abundant life. I don't want to just do the best I can in everything I attempt; I want the best from everything I attempt. I want to seize each day and ride it for all it's got... And I want to score unbelievably high on the most important scholastic test I've so far encountered.

How does it relate? The next ACT date is (I know, this is painfully obvious) seven weeks away. My idea was to see what I could accomplish in those seven weeks. Simple, easy to remember, but hard to execute. In fact, this idea started as "Eight Weeks." Yeah, procrastinators might rule the future but never the moment.

I have some goals. I have some things I've tried to do and never really seen through. The two are the same. I didn't study for the ACT at all the first time I took it. Actually, I'd been out of school, and thus had done nothing scholarly, for a month. I still didn't do too bad. What if for the next seven weeks, I forced myself to put all I could into this Goliath? What do I have to lose? Why not get all I can from this? I'm going for it.

I've worked out spoiradically most of my life. I'm strong, (if you don't believe me, watch me climb a rope sometime. It's breathtaking.) but I'm really thin. I want to build more muscle, and I found a program on the internet that I tried this past week. Guess how many weeks are left in the first cycle? Go ahead, guess! Seven. Weeks.

I play (around with) bass. I can sort of groove. I don't want that. It sucks. I don't care about slightly grooving. I want to rock. I have the means, and I have the motivation in the form of rock concerts and a brother who wants to rock with me. When would be a better time to learn to bust out fat lines and destroy the lighted stage?

Those are the three main things I want to accomplish these next seven weeks; there's more, but I want those the most--and the blog, can't forget the blog--I've been forgetting the blog. I just want to see what would happen if I took all my opportunities and used all my time and just did everything as severely as I could. I wonder what would happen if I lived to God, knowing that the life I can give Him is short. We'll find out I guess--assuming you join me.

Awkward...

Tonight, I experienced fear. I felt nervous, uncomfortable, stupid, and completely out of place. In the midst of talent far greater than my own, I strained to survive the allotted time of... worship team practice. Yes, tonight, I was freaking out over playing music with our worship leader and my youth pastor's wife. And yes, I asked for it. I wanted, and still want, to play on Sundays at my church. I've been playing my bass guitar at home for a while, and I've been getting better. Knowing that playing to a cd that came with my method book couldn't compare with playing along to a live band, though, I desired to bring my playing to the next level. I approached our worship leader, Mr. Kyle, and made my plea. He simply said "Bring your bass Wednesday." I was ecstatic. That was so easy! However, volunteering to play in a worship band may be compared to (if you have and imagination that verges on unhealthy) enlisting in the military. They'll let you in, but you'll earn everything you get through blood, sweat, toil, and tears.

I attempted to play along to the insanely easy-going chord progressions, but, as I soon found, it's no picnic (or walk in the park, piece of cake, cliche, cliche...). One song had me playing an F# to an E. I noticed the F# sounded terrible with the rest of the band. I inquired of Mr. Kyle about this phenomenon. Paraphrased, it went like this:
Me: "What's going on, when I play the F# it sounds awful(sounds the note)."
Mr. Kyle: "That's D#."
Me: "I promise I'm not stupid, just nervous."

Shamed-faced, I went back wiser to the song.

As much as I hated parts of this experience, it honestly wasn't that bad. It stretched my feeble knowledge of music, and as a result that knowledge grew. I felt weird, confused, and awkward; however, next time I'll feel less so. By the end of the practice, I was holding my own... at least sort of. It was the kind of experience that causes you to think, "Man, I'm terrible at this. I've just been wasting my time trying to learn such an elusive skill. I'm forever doomed to be completely inept at playing music." OK, so maybe nobody else thinks like that, but you get my drift. At the same time, though, I thought, "I know what to aim for now; I've pushed my limits, and I'm better for it." I'm resolved to keep this attitude; it makes me feel better.

"Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus," Phillipians 2:5

Reason's Got Something To Do With It

They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. So I'm going to blog again. The saying and my decision are interconnected more than you might assume; blogging is a premeditated choice on my part. I've had thoughts and experiences which made me think "hey, I'd like to share that." Unfortunately, these events and ideas are the stuff of which facebook is unworthy (that is to say, two sentence status updates just aren't enough). So I would say, "I should blog; I'll get on that soon." Soon, my friends, is a destination at which one never arrives. In spite of my tendency towards procrastination, and with an exhaustion brought about by allergies, a caffeine crash, and sleep deprivation, I thought, "Why not post now? I need to do something that at least has the illusion of being productive."

So that, in a nutshell, is why blogging is not likely to be pavement on the road to Hell (yes, most of the time my blog will make this much sense). I figure with this introductory post, I'll explain what you should expect from my blog. As a rule, don't expect anything. I intend to surprise my readers (as if I actually have readers, right?) with completely unexpected topics. Beyond that, I intend to relate my thrilling adventures with a style that would make even the great Larry Daley shocked and amazed. Also, I want this to be a place where I can express my thoughts about God, friends, music, and just life in general. Whether any of what I say matters to you is up for debate. If it does interest you, though, drop me a comment. I want to hear your thoughts and discuss ideas with you. So look out everbody! The faint-of-heart should stay outdoors and away from computers; I'm blogging again!

A Place in the Son

The parable Jesus tells in Luke 15:11-32 is not about the "Prodigal Son." Well, it isn't completely about him. There is an aspect of the story that we seem to simply read over, either because it's confusing or because it makes us uncomfortable. This part of the parable is about the older brother. But even if we carefully study the area detailing the older son and his reaction to his younger sibling, we're still missing the point of the story. Jesus told this parable because He wanted people to see the father in the story (who represents God) and his grace in a way that the older son didn't.

You see, both the older and the younger son just didn't get their dad. This is understandable, because this man was a complete culture shock. We can see the first example of this when the younger son asks for his inheritance before his father is dead. This son is practically saying "I can't wait for you to die." The father gave it to him, but that's not the whole story. Luke 15 reads, "So he divided the property between them." He gave not only the younger son his inheritance, but also the older son his. The father gave up everything he had! The younger son went off to live a little, but the older son stayed home like nothing ever happened! It was as if he didn't realize the gift he'd been given.

The next shocking part of the story comes when the father sees his son coming home from his escapade into depravity, and runs to meet him. This doesn't really mean much to us if we don't know the culture of the day. Let me explain, this man was obviously a wealthy Jewish farmer, and, as speaker Mike Pilavachi said, wealthy Jewish farmers "ran nowhere." He then acted as though his son hadn't just spent the inheritance on prostitutes and wild living, and he threw his son a party. He forgave and forgot before the son could even apologize.

This is where the older brother comes in. He had never left his father's home, and he was returning from working his father's field when he heard the celebration in the house. When he heard the party was for his brother, his blood boiled. The older son had some twisted, self-righteous idea of fairness, and throwing a party for the son who hated you and waisted your money didn't agree with that idea. In his mind, he was the perfect child who deserved the celebration, but his idiot of a father gave it to the black sheep of the family.

The older son really didn't understand his dad. I think he might have actually been embarrassed by him. The father in the story did do irrational things. But those irrational things could have blessed the older son just as much as the younger. The inheritance had been divided. He had a double portion of what his younger brother had, and he was sitting on it! He refused to go into the party, so his father came out and begged him to. The son answered, "Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends" (Luke 15:29). This son thought he had earned something from his father. He thought he was perfect.

"'My son,' the father said, 'you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found" (Luke 15:31-32). The older son couldn't earn his father's wealth, he wasn't perfect. But he had the inheritance because he was a son. The father had given him his portion; everything the father had was indeed the son's. But the older son didn't understand that, it didn't agree with the way he thought things should be. He couldn't let go of his idea of fairness and justice and embrace the father's love and forgiveness. The house in this parable, I think, represents grace. In the beginning of the story, the prodigal left grace. At the end of the story, the older son refused to enter grace. He couldn't go in because he wouldn't forgive the one already there, the one who hadn't even wronged him. May we never be this way, so unwilling to give grace that we cannot ourselves receive it.

More Fearless Than Taylor Swift

For me, the most impressing aspect of Franklin's adult life was his boldness for the Gospel. It wasn't just him though; everyone around him lived what the Bible said. I'll talk about Dennis Agajanian first. Dennis' street preaching experience made a big impact on me. If you don't remember, Dennis was with Ruth Graham in town, and she incidentally parked in front of a porno store (the only space available). Before you could say "bluegrass" Dennis had his guitar out and was serenading the shop's customers with lyrics like "you're going to Hell" and "you need Jesus." We can discuss his methods of evangelism, but his motives were pure. He obviously felt God leading him to witness, and so he did. He wasn't the only one of Franklin's acquaintances who had "guts for Jesus" though.



Another story in this last third of the book that I especially liked was in the chapter titled "God Doesn't Love the Kurds." Some members of another missionary organization were with Franklin's crew when they surveyed the terrible condition of the Kurds. One of the members of the other organization quickly opened his Bible and began telling the devastated people about God's salvation. This is great example of the purpose behind God-centered humanitarian groups. When people are down and out, they come and meet their physical needs to earn the right to share Christ. The Christians in Rebel With A Cause have their priorities straight.

And then there's the rebel himself, our friend Franklin. I like Franklin because he knew what the Bible said and he did it. Though he hesitated at times, he still had faith to persevere. If something is uncomfortable or difficult, I often spend too much time deciding if I should do it. God calls us to act. Another part of Franklin's life that not only affected me deeply but also possibly emotionally scarred me was the chapter involving the horrific video tape. I won't try to jog your memory, it's not something easily forgotten. As I read the officer's words to Franklin about the unspeakable acts committed by the men in the tape, my blood boiled. Franklin admits the hatred he felt for those evil soldiers. Even in the midst of hearing that atrocity, though, Franklin remembered that Jesus died for those men as well as him. When the officer asked Franklin why those villains acted as they did, Franklin used it as an opportunity to witness. Then Franklin acted on his knowledge and proceeded to build a house of refuge for widows and victims of rape in a war-torn area.

This book challenged me. From "God room" to "Operation Desert Save" to Dennis Agajanian, this book is filled with Christ-honoring principles and people. It's inspired me, and I want to live like Franklin learned to live, with guts for Jesus.

"The wicked man flees though no one pursues, but the righteous are as bold as a lion" (Proverbs 28:1).