A Leg Up

The other night, while Sara and I waited for her parents to arrive, we got an unexpected surprise. As we sat on the couch watching our dog Jack be frightened to death by a purple exercise ball, Ella decided to be active. She squirmed, kicked, and shifted almost as if she was playing jump rope with her umbilical cord. Sara's belly looked like she had been possessed by some stomach alien that desperately sought to get out.

The unexpected surprise came when we actually felt out an appendage. We could actually feel one of Ella's limbs. Sara thinks it was an arm, I believe it to have been a leg, neither of us are certain one way or the other. But we are certain it wasn't a butt, back, or head. Talk about a fun experience... I think I goosed Ella's knee. She must take after my Granddaddy. He's real sensitive on his knees. I say that because as soon as I pinched what I believe to be a leg, she immediately drew it back. As quickly as we discovered the limb, it disappeared. Ella thought she had gotten a leg up on us... okay, so she did. Nonetheless, we are thankful to have had a that brief moment to feel our precious little girl's leg (or arm) even if we did goose her.

I realize this probably seems insignificant to most people, but to Sara and I it was a moment to cherish. A simple moment of joy. A simple moment of love. A simple moment where we connected with our developing baby, our little girl. In our world, that's huge. In our world, that moment had meaning because we got to share it together. Our simple experience may not give us a leg up in parenting but at least it gives us a leg up in memories we will never forget. Thanks Ella for getting a leg up and letting us connect with you and each other.

How The Christmas Cheaters Stole Christmas Eve Gift

One of my favorite family Christmas traditions involves a little competition we call the "Christmas Eve gift" game. Allow me to explain to those of you who may be unfamiliar with the game just how it works. The main goal is to say to another member of the family "Christmas Eve Gift" before they say it to you. In some traditions you are actually supposed to present the winner with a small gift, but we just play for fun and bragging rights. The rules are simple: you must say it to the person either over the phone or in person. Easy enough right?

Well, a few member of my beloved family have decided to use modern technology and social media to advance their gameplay. Now some would say that I am just upset that I did not think of it first. This is totally false. Believe me friends, I have thought about it, contemplated long and hard, and considered it an unfair option. I am technology and social media geek. One would have to be a fool to believe that I had not already thought of such a surprise attach. The fact that others would even consider such a thing, reveal just how little they know about my devious and brilliant ways.

I just wanted my heart and mind to be clear on this issue of cheating the game. You Grinches have stolen the Christmas Even gift. My hope remains that after reading my blog and contemplating your actions you will reconsider your wicked ways. I hold out hope for you all, I mean, even the Grinch relented. Don't tell me that your hearts are about three sizes too small.

You can bah-humbug me all you want, but this is simply how I feel. I love how modern technology has improved and simplified our lives, but using it to steal the Christmas Eve Gift game is just unacceptable. Ah, enough has been said. I bid you ado and a Christmas Eve gift too.

If I Couldn't...

A Senseless Poem

If I couldn't drink... would I still thirst for Him?

If I couldn't eat... would I still hunger for Him?

If I couldn't hear... would I still listen to Him?

If I couldn't speak... would I still talk to Him?

If I couldn't walk... would I still run to Him?

If I couldn't see... would I still look to Him?

If I couldn't read... would I still want Him to write to me?

If I couldn't feel... would I still want to touch Him?

If I couldn't perhaps for once I would.

Kids Ask the Best Questions

This morning as I made my way into work, I went to visit the mall’s public restroom before clocking in. As I turned down the long corridor that leads to restrooms, I saw a little girl and her mom exit the ladies restroom at the end of the long stretch. They were making their way back into the mall and I was walking down to the men’s room. We passed without a word to one another. Nothing out of the ordinary. However, after we passed each other, I heard the little girl ask, “Mom, why didn’t you say hi to him?” The mom responded kindly to her daughter, “Well honey, I didn’t know him.”

That little girl’s question has haunted me all day. Why didn’t I say hello? Would I had offended anyone by just kindly saying hello. Would I have ruined someone’s day by simply acknowledging their presence as we passed? In that little girl’s innocence it only made sense that you say hello to everyone. No one is too good or not good enough to be acknowledged whether you know them or not.

I have been challenged today... by a little girl. A little girl who sees a much smaller world than I do. A little girl who’s less worried about if anyone responds back as long they are acknowledged. A little girl who gets the big picture even in if only in an innocent way. Thank you little girl for asking the question. Now, I need to respond.

So, I dare ask... did you pass someone today... sure you did. But why didn’t you say hi to them?

The Battle Rages

I haven't written prose in quite a while, this may very well been my last attempt, however, as I was digging through some of my old documents, I stumbled upon this little treasure. It was written almost 2 years ago. I hope some will find encouragement from reading. Grace be with you all.

The Battle Rages

11/12/05

Demons are lurking

Pressing for the moment of attack

With dark ambitions

Evil is their only intent.

Angels encamp around me

Prepared to heal my wounds

Or mount me on eagle’s wings

Their desire and mine is the One’s command

Obedience our only response.

Suffering is upon me

Heavy it weighs upon my soul

I know not the outcome

But I wait upon the Lord

He is my strength, my shield

He will sustain me.

Alas, the battle rages

Torment has just begun

But my soul longs only deeper

For that pure and holy One

I will fight this fight

And run this race

It is only temporal

When I consider the eternal goal.

My heart may be tattered and beaten

My soul my take its wounds

But I will not be defeated

For I know that which stills my soul.

O Victorious Warrior,

Let not my road end here

But allow me grace to travel

Into the Promised Land.

There I will rest

And feast in glory

For I know I will never finish

But the war has been won

I celebrate not my triumph

But the One who conquered all.

The Recent Desert

As one who finds himself undone, I can't help but relate to you this part of my journey. Those of you who know me well, even some who don't know so well, have noticed a distinct change in character for AO. I have been reserved, guarded, and at times unresponsive. I have been physically exhausted and spiritually dry. Emotionally, I have truly felt nothing for months now. Needless to say, I have been miserable.

As Christians, we have a way of talking about our spiritual journey as valley and mountaintop experiences. The past year has been neither. I have been trekking through a desert. The Bible often refers to it as the wilderness. You may recall the Israelites wandered there for 40 years, Jesus himself spent time there. The desert is a wasteland, where one will feel abandoned, restless, and burned out. The sand will rub you raw, the sun will scorch your skin, and the dry air will leave you thirsty. It's no walk in the park, it's a struggle to survive.

I will confess, I have been weak, scared, and down right out of my mind at times. I did not see other footprints in the sand, but yet I know I was never alone, even though I felt that way many times. I do not believe God abandoned me but brought me to the desert for a reason. I needed the reserve pool of past spiritual successes to dry up. I needed to know what it meant to be completely spiritually hungry. I needed to be beat down and wore out. I needed to the old skin to be rubbed away. I needed to know that when there is nothing else, there is always God. I needed a to put everything else aside and rely solely on Him and Christ crucified. I needed renewal, but needed the long, hard road to find it.

I have not yet emerged from the desert, but I do see an oasis up ahead. I do not reset God for dragging me through the desert (mind you I could not say that up until just now). I thank God for knowing what I needed for renewal. There are times in our journey with God that we need to suffer the desert. My time is now. I have a very fresh perspective on the faithfulness of Jesus Christ, His provision, His timing, His call, His kingdom, and the life He gives us. Life with Christ is an adventure, anew everyday. Thank you Jesus, for my recent desert. I am nothing without you. I need you everyday. I am not alone for I could not survive alone. You meet my need and I praise you. You have suffered long with me and for me. I count my suffering as delight in the cause for you Kingdom. Thank you Jesus for counting my life worth it. May your grace and mercy fill my life, to your glory alone. Amen.

Today, at the Bridge, our Lead Pastor, Tim Dunn, brought a challenging message on the real F word (he also wrote about it on his blog: realtimdunn). Let me tell you, I got my face rocked off today...

After walking us thoroughly through Jesus' parable on the unforgiving servant in Matthew 18:23-37, he wrapped up with the following activity (I know engaging his audience, what was he thinking... brilliant!! ): Each person was given a 3x5 index card and a pen. We were instructed to write down an event/a person that we refused to forgive. As if this were not challenging enough, Tim went a step further and asked us to carry that card around with us until we were truly ready to lay down our unforgiveness. Just so you are aware, he didn't mean keep this in your pocket or purse, he meant physically carry it around, like a badge on your sleeve if you. People need to know you harbor unforgiveness... the card should be visible.

Who wants to carry around a 3x5 card all of the time, right? Well, in case you missed it, that was a large part of the point. Bring to your mind how silly it is to continue in resentment and unforgiveness. I confess, as I look at my card right now... it's hard to let go. Part of me wants to hold on to it. So, I can say, "Look what this person did to me! How outrageous!" This person deserves my resentment... besides, they brought it on themselves. This activity stirred up a good deal of emotion for me that I thought I had dealt with appropriately. That little card reminds me even now, how I most certainly have not. I confess, I just as I carry this silly card, I carry unforgiveness. Well, I've had a enough. I'm laying mine down. Stupid card! Stupid unforgiveness! Burdened, no more.

I challenge you to give this little exercise a try. Take a 3x5 card and write down who you harbor unforgiveness towards. Explain why you do, maybe even what happened to bring it about if necessary. You may have more than one instance, write them all down. But be prepared to carry the card until you are truly ready to lay down the burden of unforgiveness, then share you're experience with us. We dedicated a special page at the Bridge's website to celebrate our triumph (only by and through the grace of Jesus Christ of course) share your experience. Lay down the burden of unforgiveness... live free and undone.

Giving My Seconds to God

So, everyone talks about giving God your firsts, your best, your everything... I confess, I struggle with giving God this stuff, I am a selfish and incredibly lazy person. However, this morning I've been challenged to give God something else. Frank C. Laubach in Letters by a Modern Mystic* outlines a process, no an adventure, in giving your seconds to God.

Seconds, do not seem like a lot. And I will be honest giving seconds sounds more doable thangiving God my hours. The challenge is bringing God to mind for at least one second each minute. I don't know about you, but generally speaking if I think of something for one second, that thought has a tendency to linger. Like that stupid song that gets stuck in your head... yeah you know when that one word is said or thought and suddenly you find yourself singing that phrase of song for the next 30 minutes... happens to me all of the time. So, I am praying today that God will be the song that gets stuck in my head and I hope I can't shake it.

I believe this new adventure serves as an answer to my recent struggle. As of late, I have been exceptionally gifted in squandering time as opposed to making time. I could call this problem a whole bunch of things but the simple fact is I've been complacent and lazy. Today, it's time to get to work. Besides, who doesn't love a good adventure. It breaks up the monotony of everyday life. I'm up for that. You?

I am starting my adventure today, I invite you to join me. Let's give our seconds to God. No, not the leftovers, but our seconds. Let it begin with one second of every minute. Think on God, get Him in your mind, and let's pray His being there even for one second stains our thought process all day. I will be sharing my experience of giving my seconds and becoming undone here. Share yours with me here as well... leave comments and let's do this adventure together.

* Letters by a Modern Mystic by Frank C. Laubach. This is one of the books I'm currently processing. It's a small, very digestable book. It highlights the giving God your seconds process but also the journey Frank took during the most lonesome and depressing time of his life... being a missionary. The joy in his life jumps off the pages. Incredible. Pick this little treasure up.

Rethink Discipleship

A sacred part of the Christian faith has become fossilized and dilapidated. The practice of discipleship has all but disappeared or at minimum been buried under the pile of self-help books and personal discovery exercises. I am fearful, we have forgotten that discipleship is even a practice. I mean for most it was something you went to on a Sunday or Wednesday night. It developed into a process, a procedure if you will, and less of an actual living practice. Discipleship got relegated to a room and not lives. I suggest it's time to rethink discipleship.

1. reTHINK discipleship ..: For the longest time, we have made discipleship a personal journey, when indeed discipleship is lived and practiced with in community (aka relationships). It is both vertical (with Christ) and horizontal (with people). Discipleship was never intended to be done alone.

reTHINK where & when discipleship is done ..: move from a designated time and place to more of an organic, everyday occurrence. It can happen in a coffee shop, at the gas station, at work in the break room, in your office, at a party, get this... it can happen where ever you just so happen to be. Oh yeah, you don't have to have "arrived" if you will to disciple. Start the process, grow together. See #3.

2. reTHINK how you disciple ..: Discipleship has been a matter of forming people to act and think a prescribed Christian philosophy. Whereas this is not wrong, we should be making people disciples of Christ, not ourselves or our denominations even.

3. reTHINK who you disciple ..: First be a disciple. Learn from someone... someone who knows the ropes. Invest others as well though. Bring them along for the journey. Jesus called first-class "nobodies" to be his disciples and he entrusted them to be disciple makers. He will give you the tools, the wisdom, the people, and the resources... you need only ask. We are commanded to disciple "all nations..." not the church (this is not a mandate to abandon nor neglect the church, just give the thought proper attention).

I fully believe it is high time to get our minds around the idea of living, personal discipleship. Its not a job, its not a hassle... its a mission. Make your life a life of learning. Be a learner, who doesn't live much less learn in isolation, but actively engages the world, and more importantly makes learners in Christ out of the world.

reTHINK.

Be a friend, be a discipler... offer your discipleship story(s), tips and/or practices by leaving a comment.

The Parables: Work and Whine

In Matthew 20:1-15, Jesus tells the parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard. Quick context, just prior to this parable, the disciples have a few questions for Jesus about "rewards." They have given up so much to follow him, they feel it is only right to receive a great reward. Jesus replies along these lines: The first shall be last and the last shall be first. Then he launches into the parable.

This parable provides clear insight into the problem I mentioned in an earlier post (God's Ridiculous Faithfulness). As the story goes, workers were hired at the beginning of the day and agreed to a set wage. Throughout the day, the owner of the vineyard hires more workers, mid-morning, midday, mid-afternoon, and an hour before close. Those hired last get their wage first and it just so happens they get the same amount as those hired first thing in the morning. Of course the workers who put in a full day do what any other vineyard worker would do... they whine (I can almost imagine the owner saying, "Would you like cheese with that whine?").

It's only logical that the owner would recognize this error and correct it, right? I mean these guys worked all day, the others only a small part. They deserve better. Well in all graciousness, the owner reminds them they had an agreement. He had been generous in holding up his end of the deal. It was his right to deal with the others workers as he saw fit. And he ask them a great question: Do you begrudge my generosity?

Note the owners question. His question put the first workers right in their place. Sure, the reality is the situation didn't make sense, but he had been generous to all the workers. The brilliant question provided the one thing the first workers needed: perspective. That perspective, fair or not, made these first workers realize what they got was equality. And in some cases, like this particular one, equality is not fair. The owner didn't pull a fast one, he simply welcomed them (and us) to the economy of grace... God's ridiculous, radical grace.

I have a question for you: Is equality fair?

God's Ridiculous Faithfulness

I received a call from one my most dear friends, Grant, today. He and I had not talked in several months, so needless to say his call was a pleasant surprise.

As we wrapped up our conversation, I commented to Grant, "Well, God is continually faithful to us, that's just the way He tends to be." Grant cracked back, "Yeah, I've been meaning to discuss that with Him." This started a hilarious stint of random thoughts on the illogical process that is called God's faithfulness:

God, I've spit in your face more times than I care to count and yet you're faithful. I've turned tail and ran the other way more than a 100 times I'm sure and yet you take me back. I've been the prodigal and the son that stayed, but you've always been the faithful, loving father. Would you for just a moment take on my faulted thinking and see it my way. I mean seriously, this is getting ridiculous! It's simply illogical and makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.

But you know... I just want to say thanks for being soo incredibly illogical.

What part of the silliness of God are you most thankful?

Bumper Stick Theology

As I drove home from work today, I followed behind a vehicle that played host to a bumper stick that looked similar to what you see pictured above. After seeing this decal, I fell into a pattern that deeply bothers my precious wife. I followed the car in front of me a lot longer than was necessary. That fact is neither here nor there in reference to this post. Shall we continue... okay thanks.

So, this bumper stick struck me. My first reaction, yeah I hope so too in your case sweetheart... no only kidding. In all seriousness, it did occur to me the many differing theologies that have to do with the issue presented by the bumper sticker. I'll spin it a few ways, and you let me know what you think. How about that?

One, God is not picky at all. Some would argue that he doen't pick, or even engage creation/humanity at all. Life is merely a spectator sport of which he doesn't even choose a favorite to cheer for, just sits back and lets things be. Some would say He's even too lazy to pick up the remote to change the channel, but who cares... He's not picky. I've heard it said that beggars can't be choosers (pardon the pun).

Two, God is picky. As an ultimate authoritative being, He has a right if you will to pick and choose. It's his design, He laid out the rules, He can do as He his heart so desires. The word "favorites" would not be used, but one could probably understand the concept that way. Essentially, God is picky and chooses he wants and chooses who he doesn't. So does that make him picky? He's still choosing... just maybe not choosing the way everyone would want?

Three, God isn't picky, but knows what He wants. This is where you're scratching your head, thinking to yourself: What! Many believe that God allows for the freedom of choice in those He created. That is to say, that man chooses God. Interestingly enough, in this scenario the human race becomes the picky one. God is an option, but may not be the option that is chosen. However, this is where it gets fun. God knows who will pick Him, but doesn't influence them in anyway.

Four, God is picky, but gracious... at times. The best way to explain this is as follows... Remember the Grey's Anatomy scene where Meredith Grey begs McDreamie, "Choose me, pick me, love me!" Perhaps if we do the right thing, say the right thing, so on and so forth, God will indeed pick me. But there's no security in if he will or not. Just the hope that He might.

Five, God is picky, justifiably so, but incredibly gracious... but yet still just. Yeah, I know you're still scratching your head, but now you're more likely saying William Trent Flowers' initials (and by that I mean What The Foot!). Yeah, you thought I meant something else. Ha! joke is on you. Back to the point... As creator of the universe and humanity, and laying out one simple demand that was unfortanetly not kept, God has the divine right to determine who and how things should play out. But in His loving nature, has so designed it that humans (okay, see God is picky) may indeed choose His love after He has lovingly prodded them. The unique thing is He prods all, but not all accept His gracious offer. They get picky and want their way, which happens to be contratrary to His will and desire for you. He's picky in that you love him back after you accept His love, that's His two requirements (two doesn't seem to be too picky). Accept His love of you and then love in return. And hear me when I say, acceptance is not always easy.

Please share your thoughts... leave a comment.

When Reality Hits

I feel like everyone I have ever spoken with has these moments, I mean, I hope it's not just me, but you get that overwhelming feeling of reality. You know what I mean... that moment reality plops right down in front of you and smacks you in the face. I have come to realize and embrace that this feeling comes out of nowhere. It's on no timetable. It just happens. Much like that catchy little slogan for feces.

This morning as I was getting ready for the day, it happened. Reality hit. For those of you who missed it Sara and I are going to be parents. January 29, 2010 is the big day. Somewhere near that day and time we will welcome a little person in the world, into our home, and into our family. Here are some of the things that crossed my mind this morning as reality hit me with a left hook:

Alan, you do well to take care of yourself and another human being who is most capable of caring for theirself, what are you going to do with one that relies solely on YOU! I imagined holding this little person in my arms and making the realization that there was an equal part of me and equal part of Sara and yet this little baby would be its own person, wonderfully made weaved together miraclously by the Great Creator and Life Giver (Yahweh). He/She will grow up exceptionally faster than I can imagine. He/she will change the way Sara and I do life together, in the best sense I know. This fragile little being will be our responsibility. What?! God, I know and understand you KNOW everything and order things in such a way that Your will will be accomplished. But...?

Then, I couldn't think of the question I needed or even wanted to ask. The silence fell in my mind. Reality had hit hard and I looked like one of the losers after a UFC fight. Dazed and confused. Wondering where I was and what in the world just happened. Here's the best part though, just as quickly as reality landed its breath-taking blow, peace rushed on me like rain. Yeah maybe it was just being in the shower, but it was a real experience. My mind cleared and I heard a small, still voice say, "You will be okay. As will your child, my child." Yes, that happened this morning.

What I realized in all of this is how thankful I am that the God who orchestrates reality, exists within it to not only empowers us to withstand reality's striking blows, but equips us to live in and through reality. And oh yeah, walks with us all the way. That's what I call AWESOME!!!

Share your Reality hitting moment by leaving a comment.

A Conversation of Meaning

This evening, I wandered outside to check on my tomatoes and get a breath of fresh air. The cool evening air gently laid lightly against my skin. The dark night brought the humble reminder that another day was not just passing but had indeed passed.

As I made toward the back door to head in for the night, a faint whistle caught my attention. I looked back over the fence that separates my yard from my neighbors and could not determine where the whistle originated. The floodlights off my back porch only illuminated my side of the yard, so I totally missed my next door neighbor standing out behind his house waving me down. I walked up to our metal rusting fence and leaned in, and waited for him to make his way over.

Slowly, the dark shape of a tall, lanky man took form to reveal my white haired, cordial neighbor. I reached over the fence to shake his hand. He kindly asked, "How are you?" "Well." I responded. "Wish I could say the same..." His statement surprised me. I believe my face gave me away to him. "Yeah, going away for a few days." "Yeah, where you headed?" "Don't know, my wife is driving. Somewhere in Indiana." "Oh, okay." I sheepishly remarked. "Had to have a shunt put in this week. You know what that is?" "I do." I replied. "Yeah, need to just get away. Get somethings straightened out." "Well, I can only imagine." He stared blankly right past me. "Doc says I should be okay. I hope so." I could hear the doubt in the voice. He even gave one of those fearful laughs. Not really knowing what to say I responded, "Well, I am sure that's the plan." "Yeah, sure is." He then turned his gaze towards me and while I looked him right in the eye I said, "We will be thinking about you." "That means a lot... thank you."

Changing the subject he asked how Sara and I were doing. I told him the good news about Sara being pregnant. A smile lit up his face. "That's great! I know you both are excited." "We certainly are." "That's why you live there." He pointed to my house. "Yeah, apparently it's a fruitful place. The past two owners have had two children while living in the house." "Really..." he said. You could see the gears turning as he tried to remember who all had lived in the house. He spouted off a few last names, then returned his gaze to somewhere in the distance behind me. "I'll be sure to tell my wife... and my boy of course." "Please do." I said with a smile on my face.

About that time, my floodlights cut off and the dark night overcame us. My neighbor said, "I guess that's a sign." While he was getting the words out he started falling over towards the fence. His yard is on a hill just above mine so he was standing a good two feet above where I was standing. I reached over and placed my hand on his thin, frail arm. "Are you alright?" I asked with great concern in my voice. "Yeah, yeah... I'm fine. I'm fine." His voice seasoned with stubbornness. He pushed himself back from the fence to level ground and clumsily made his way back to his back door. "Have a good trip." I commented. "A safe trip is all I ask for." He bid me good evening and turned in for the night. I stood there for a few moments, leaning against the fence, contemplating the conversation that had just taken place.

I could and still can't get the image of his pale, aged face as he said the words, "That means a lot... thank you." He his hopeless gaze warmed and I saw sparks of life resurface. I would have sworn I saw a physical weight lift from his worn and weak shoulders. I suppose he knew I meant what I said. He was a totally different person when I told him the news about our baby. You would have thought I he was this kid's grandparent. Pure delight struck his whole being. I kid you not. It was cool to watch. The man that came to the fence had been replaced by one who somehow, someway remembered life and that it had meaning. I won't soon get over that.

The conversation was short and sweet. I suspect it took no more than five minutes for all that I just described to transpire. But, I can't get over the fact that a simple conversation had such meaning. In all honestly, it would not have meant so much to me had I not seen how much it meant to him. I encourage you... give your conversations meaning... mean them.

A Letter to My Child

Dear precious child,

At this moment, you find yourself warmly wrapped in the womb of your mother. Floating in fluid ever developing and taking shape to be a beautiful baby. Your mother and I anxiously await your arrival. I would be lying to say we think of much else but you. We have already developed a love for you far beyond your and even our comprehension.

We feel inadequate, unprepared, unready, and just simply at the mercy of God as to what to do with you. You are a special child, yes because you are our child. Your presence is already changing our lives and you haven't breathed your first breath outside the womb. My child you have brought abundant joy to our hearts and I assure you, we were pleasantly content before you were conceived and are even more so knowing you are on the way.

Our faces glow with smiles as we talk about you and plan for you. Our hearts know a new fulness and warmth as we pray for you everyday. I promise you child, you will know full well what it means to be loved, cared for, and adored. We do not promise you much materially, but we do promise you a wealth of hope and love.

I assure you even now we will make mistakes, we will screw up, but we will never stop loving you. You will find we are far from perfect, but we are honored to be your parents. We welcome you into our lives, our home, and our family. You are nothing less than a miracle and a blessing from the one and only God. We give honor and praise to Him who richly blessed us with this precious gift... we call our child. We know full well dear child you are only being lent to us, but what a privilege, one of which your mother and I will cherish forever. We love you and can't wait for you to join us. Godspeed.

With great pride and adoration,

Your Loving Father

The Problem with Kindaness

It appears there is an epidemic sweeping our society called, kindaness. Kindaness: I kinda want to be nice. I kinda don't. I knida don't care. I kinda care. I kinda want to help. I kinda don't. I kinda see your point. I kinda don't. Perhaps you only kinda get my point. You see what I mean. The uncertainity has left all of us rambling, confused, and somewhat insecure.

Kindaness came to my mind today as I was at the United Dairy Farmer right down the road from my home. I entered the store and noticed as I entered the door a gentleman no more than 10 years older than myself was just a few strides behind me. I decided that I would hold the door for him. A simple gesture of kindness... a forgotten common courtesy if you ask me (But of course you did not and why would you). As he rushed for the door because he noticed I held it for him, our eyes met and I saw it... Kindaness. You could see the wheels turning... I'm kinda glad you held the door. I kinda wonder if you have an alterior motive. I kinda think you might just have wanted to be nice. I'm kinda not sure. You could say he felt kinda confused. I don't blame him.

I kinda wondered the same. I kinda thought I might not hold the door before I walked in. I kinda felt what's the point. But as I processed that interaction, I realized people in general kinda have a problem with kindness. I am not sure if its due to fear, uncertainity, or just plain laziness. We act as if kindness is kinda difficult, maybe even kind of wrong. Kindaness is the in between place we find ourselves. We kinda want to be kind, we kinda don't. We also find it exceptionally difficult to put into practice Jesus' kinda odd words in Luke 6:27-3:

“But to you who are willing to listen, I say, love your enemies! Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who hurt you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, offer the other cheek also. If someone demands your coat, offer your shirt also. Give to anyone who asks; and when things are taken away from you, don’t try to get them back. (NLT)

Show kindness, do good, give away. What in the world? That kinda makes me sick to think about. Those words kinda fly against everything my society has led me to believe. However, more and more attention is given to the topic of kindness. If you paid any attention to commercials right before and after the election... the main message presented: help, do good, show kindness. Be the changing agent yourself. Act.

It strikes me kinda funny that there really is a problem with kindaness. My suggestion for a cure: You need to just kinda get over it and be kind. Take two and call me in the morning. By the way, undone ones suffer from this sickness as much as anyone. But as we are made aware... we realize just how undone we truly are. No friends, we are not kinda done. We are still completely undone. Enjoy the journey, it's kinda fun.

Change

Change... it comes and it goes. Some put change in a cup, or a piggy bank, they cherish it, they save it. These individuals know and understand change, even though seemingly insignificant it can add up over time and be incredibly valuable, well worth enduring.

For others, change is not so well received. In these individual's mind, change is meaningless and serves no purpose. They find change an annoyance, something to keep up with, leaves an odd odor, and draws attention to them because of the noise it makes when several pieces collide together. Change provides no value and therefore seems worthless to bear.

The change I speaks of really has nothing to do with money. Sure, the amount you have or do not have could play a part in the change you experience. The change I refer to here has to do with life change... simple and complex. At this moment in my life, I am discovering that the only real constant in life (in mine and in general) is change. Think about it this way: You experience a certain change in your life, whether sudden or delayed, after a period of time you adjust to this so-called change. The moment you move from uneasy to comfortable with the recent change you experience in essence experience change yet again. The moment you have adopted to that change, ah yes, you guessed it change happens once more. Change, the constant variable.

However, as astonishing as that last thought may have been, my fascination with change runs a bit deeper. We are in need of change. Whether any of us recognize this fact or not, the truth remains... we need and must have change. Change allows for growth (whether that be physical, mental, spiritually, etc). Change brings new perspective of which we all need to see. You would never know the thrill of riding your favorite roller coaster if you never changed your position from standing in line to actually getting on the ride. You would never know how good a certain food that you love is unless you changed your mind, and changed the location of the food from your plate to your mouth. You would also never change from hungry to satisfied. Just think, if you did not change shirts just how rotten your smell and appearance would be?

Change a necessary evil, or fundamental good? Sure, I agree, most likely change is both. Not all change has positive results. You change moods and hurt other's feelings. You change medicines and turns out they aren't for your diagnosed issue. You change jobs only to find that you are not has happy as you were. You change from being married to single or vice versa.

I can not say with certainty all change is indeed good. I can say change is a sure thing. So if I were you, I would put all my money (or change) on change. You bank on change you will never be guessing. You will know it is coming. Embrace change, it will happen, who I am kidding,do not be so surprise to realize change is happening now whether you want it to or not. However, I guarantee if you bet on change, you will leave with more than just spare change. You will be able to not only face change, but do so boldly and with a good spirit, you will bear it.

I'm not much of a gambler, but I am letting it ride and I am going all in on... change.

Wounded

Every wound tells a story. Whether the wound be internal or external, a mere scratch or a deep gash, everybody has had a least one. Some wounds come by self infliction, some by accident, some by pre-meditation, and yes some come by sticks and stones. Some wounds heal, some wounds leave a scar, yet some wounds are fatal. Regardless, each wound tells a tale.

The age old questions always raises it ugly head when we see wounds: What happened? How quickly we forget not all wounds are as simple as a skinned knee. Where the question may appear simple enough, the asker typically does not adequately calculate just how loaded those two words are? Whereas some stories come easy and are told with great pride, others desire greatly for the story to remain buried... deep under layers of shame and even guilt.

If I may say so, I doubt many of us have considered that wounds are one thing that all humanity shares in. Wounds form an unidentified bond between every person who lives and breathes on this thing we call earth. Now that's not to say we all share equal wounds, but we all share wounds. Our lives are wrapped up in a wounded world and society. Wounds are an unescapable reality. But I reveal this to you not to proclaim a message of gloom and doom, but to encourage you. As wounded ones, we tend to turn inward and go it alone. Many of us walking wounded convince ourselves this or that will fix it, but telling someone my story will only bring me shame and them disgust. Our only resort, hurt alone. I beg to differ.

I present to you another solution. I dare to ask you, "What happened?" I gladly hand you the shovel and take my own and say to you, let's dig this one up together. I say to you... you don't have to hurt alone. As one who is undone, I say to you, I will bleed with you, cry with you, hurt with you, and in time heal with you. I, too, am one who has been and will again be wounded. I'm not afraid, but I am undone. I am undone, because...

The one in whom I believe thought enough of me, to be wounded on my behalf. And I don't mean to say he fell and skinned his knee, mind you. Oh no, my Savior, Jesus Christ, bore fatal wounds, so that this pain I feel would only be temporary and so I would know immense joy. He bled so I would be whole. He died that I might live. He who knew no wrong became all that is wrong in me (and yes you are the "me" in this wound story as much as I am) and was dealt death's greatest blow. He willfully absorbed that pain and those fatal wounds for me. He knew pain, he knew death, but he did not know them long. He still bears the scars, so you and I can not only know the story, but proudly tell it. So as we experience our own wounds, we can boldly hope in the only one who can heal them as we hold tightly to His wounded hand. You see, God the Father, used the one bond we all share to unite us to Him through His wounded son. Wounds are a unique bond. Let us not hide them, but bear them together in Christ, who offers you His wound-scar hand of healing and hope.

Friends, I implore you, fear your wounds no more. Be free from them. Again, wounded ones I say to you, "Our wounds bring us together. You do not and must not go it along. Let us heal together." So let us be one with the one who knows our wounds, for He too, took them on and yes boldly wears them even now.

Feel free to share your wounds, via comments, or email (brotherao@gmail.com)

Practice

You have heard it said that to get better at an art (or something you love) you must practice. We all know this saying to be true. We've experienced the results. But what about the things you that you love and you seek to fully master? What must you do then?

Practice will help, but is practice alone enough? I'm not talking about learning a new skill just for the sake of learning it. Oh no, I mean actually mastering something.

I have not lived long, but my experience has taught me that those who are truly masters in their area of expertise do more than practice. Take musicians for instance. Musicians do not just practice. Do they ever practice? Sure, all of the time. And you're thinking to yourself, "Okay, AO, now you are just contradicting yourself." Hold on, I'm not done (remember I'm undone). Great musicians don't just practice, they live their music. Jazz is probably where you see this best displayed. As I have heard it said, "In jazz, the music tells the story. It sets the plot. You don't have to listen long to hear the story. " This happens because Jazz players don't just practice... they live their music.

Same is true of anyone who's really mastered something. Whether it be a sport, a hobby, or useful skill (like complex mathematical equations), the masters don't just practice they breathe, eat, sleep, and live their passion, their art... yeah their life.

For me that's teaching. People have asked, why do you study so much when you teach. I'm not one of those who just wants to get by. I study to the point that what I am learning and what I in turn will teach is in my skin. It's a natural part of who I am. I shouldn't just tell you believe I what I'm telling you. I should believe it. You, yourself, may not be convinced, but one thing for sure, you should be convinced I believe if I'm the one teaching. My preaching professor and father in the ministry (Dr. Robert Smith) always says, "You gotta live with the text. You should wake up in the morning and the text you're teaching should be lying next to you. You sit down to eat and it should be sitting across from you. Your text should be your constant companion."

So my challenge to you... You say you want to be good at something... really good. Then you have to ask yourself a real question? Am I just practicing? Or am I living my art?

Live it!

Loss

As human beings, we understand loss as a certainty. However, we most often experience it as an unwelcome event in our lives. Whether we lose something as simple as a set of keys or the remote control, or even something as major as a loss of a job or family member it is rarely convenient or well accepted. One could say that loss of any kind leaves us undone.

My family currently mourns the loss of a young family member. A tragic loss for us for sure. Oddly, death has the unique power to draw families together even more so than just living. Suddenly, our minds and hearts begin to grasp just how fragile and significant the life is in our current finite state. We realize that now our lives will be different because of the recent loss. The void is real. The pain is felt and shared. The experience grips you. Loss becomes real. We know if only for a brief moment the meaning of being undone. Our hearts... undone. Our minds... undone. Our love... undone. Our pain... undone. Our tears... undone. Our relationship... undone. Yes, in loss we are undone.

Grief and mourning are proper and need to be experienced and processed in a timely fashion. The question I pose: In our undone state, will we be trapped in the loss? Or will we embrace life and the lives around us revealing just how undone we are?

The Grace of the Cross

As I made myself ready for Good Friday, I read this prayer from The Valley of Vision. It struck me so I felt compelled to share it. I encourage you to just read it first. Then read it again and do so prayerfully. Have a blessed Good Friday!

O My Saviour,

I thank thee from the depths of my being
for thy wondrous grace and love
in bearing my sin in thine own body on the tree.

May thy cross be to me
as the tree that sweetens my bitter Marahs*,
as the rod that blossoms with life and beauty,
as the brazen serpent that calls forth
the look of faith.

By thy cross crucify me every sin;
Use it to increase my intimacy with thyself;
Make it the ground of all my comfort,
the liveliness of all my duties,
the sum of all thy gospel promises,
the comfort of all my afflictions,
the vigor of my love, thankfulness, graces,
the very essence of my religion;
And by it give me that rest without rest,
the rest of ceaseless praise.

O My Lord and Saviour,

Thou hast also appointed a cross for me
to take up and carry,
a cross before thou givest me a crown.
Thou hast appointed it to by my portion,
but self-love hates it,
carnal reason is unreconciled to it;
without the grace of patience I cannot bear it,
walk with it, profit by it.
O blessed cross, what mercies dost thou bring
with thee!
Thou art only esteemed hateful by me rebel will,
heavy because I shirk thy load.
Teach me, gracious Lord and Saviour,
that with my cross thou sendest promised grace
so that I may bear it patiently,
that my cross is thy yoke which is easy,
and thy burden which light.

*marah - bitterness, a fountain at the sixth station of the Israelites (Ex. 15:23, 24; Num. 33:8) whose waters were so bitter that they could not drink them. On this account they murmured against Moses, who, under divine direction, cast into the fountain "a certain tree" which took away its bitterness, so that the people drank of it. This was probably the 'Ain Hawarah, where there are still several springs of water that are very "bitter," distant some 47 miles from 'Ayun Mousa.

Bennett, Arthur G. The Valley of Vision A Collection of Puritan Prayers and Devotions. Carlisle: Banner of Truth, 2003.

Reflect

A mirror has one function: it provides a reflection. Albeit, a reversed image, but it reflects an image all the same. One simple purpose, a purpose that a mirror can pull off without fail. It is one-tracked, one minded, and will not part from its grand design: reflect.

Webster's Dictionary defines the word reflect in several ways, but two stand out. 1) to give back or exhibit an image, likeness, or outline; 2) to make manifest or apparent. As I read the word "reflect" this evening, I stopped and pondered for a moment... What do I reflect?

I give an image of something. With every breath, every thought, every action, I make something apparent. Unfortunately, I am not as consistent as the mirror. I make no bones about it, I rarely reflect the same things consistently except my brokenness. Most often others see a poor reflection of what I call my faith in Christ. Yes, this is an honest confession of who is undone.

But in a twisted way, I am like a mirror. I do provide a backward image. Because he created me in his image, I am indeed a reflection of Him. But unfortunately the image I reflect is a distorted one, yet He continues to shine His light upon me, giving me the opportunity to reflect. I've heard it said that lighting is everything. In the case of Christ in my life, this saying couldn't be more true. Regardless of the my feeble (some would say awkward AO) attempts to reflect a magnificent glory that goes beyond description and imagination, the true image reveals itself in my broken, awkward, and yes distorted reflection. As to why, I cannot answer you in a justifiable manner, only suffice to say the proof is in the reflection.

As Paul rightly says, "Now we see but a poor reflection, then we shall see face to face... (1 Corinthians 13:12a)." Reflect.

When She Cries

Few things tear at my heart like the tears of my beloved wife. As her face streaks, my heart breaks. Her hurt becomes my hurt even when I don't fully understand it. Because we are one, I don't just share her pain... her pain is my pain.

Tonight as I watched the tears roll, her lips quiver, and body shake, I felt it. Even though she correctly assessed that I did not fully understand, I felt it. I fight back tears even now as I write.

This evening, as my wife spoke with sheer honesty about her day to day job, I began to realize the immense weight that she carries. Allow me to share a portion of her struggle:

I am charged with convincing a teenage boy with a non-curable disease, that he will be okay. That he will pull through. That everything will be just fine... And in a day I will turn him over to the care of someone else. Like its just that easy... It's sweet you try to understand, but you don't.

Yes dear, you couldn't be more right. As she spoke those words, I realized just how much I don't understand. Tonight, once again I am undone. Undone in the best but most challenging way. I married to a magnificent woman, who I under appreciate and unintentionally neglect. Forgive me for my stupidity, dearest one.

My wife is my hero... a superhuman, who cares, truly cares about her patients. She takes patient care to whole new level. She actually cares about the patient (this in no way implies others don't).

Life and death are more than just sayings in her line of work. Life and death are realities she works in. Life and death are her profession. No, I do not understand. I love this woman... with all that I am and all that I have. What an honor to be called her husband. I am glad I get to be by her side... when she cries.

Bankruptcy

In our current economic crisis, bankruptcy will be the unfortunate choice for many. Businesses as well as individuals will fall victim to having more debt than they have credit. The American society(in general) drank from the cup of plenty, but apparently the cup is no longer full. Perhaps this is good, perhaps not. Time will tell the story. Nonetheless, I would like to speak to another economic crisis, if I may... a spiritual crisis.

Blessed are the poor in spirit,

for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.

Matthew 5:3

Many will say this is a ridiculous saying and I would not argue. In the American mind (mine included), saying the word "poor" is like saying any of the other dirty little four letter words. We know and understand when people use such language they obviously mean business and/or desire to catch your attention. POOR!

Most of us do not fully understand this word. We have no clue what it means to have nothing. Literally, be unable to make payments, meet needs, so on and so forth. Destitution is a condition we see on commercials, where people are asking us to stand in the gap. But yet here, as Jesus speaks directly to his disciples (in Greek, "learner") and less to directly to the crowds (seen in Matthew's gospel as curious, but disinterested bystanders) says plainly and candidly "You will be happy and content when you declare spiritual bankruptcy."

In most instances of bankruptcy there are still financial responsibilities. The beauty in this instance is the one who comes to collect what is owed, pays your debt for you. In our selfish, backbiting, over-indulgent, unrelenting and unlovable state, the one whom we turn against pursues after us. What foolishness! In our current spiritual state, we owe more than we can pay. Needless to say, we let our eyes overload our stomachs. We to some extent unknowingly have bought lies, deceptions, and manipulation. Believing we could have it all, safety, security, luxury, and success, but in the end regardless of what we perceive to have, we ultimately have nothing. Yes, we are poor in spirit. The creditors are coming, they will cash in. They will take what you don't have and make you pay the price. The wages of sin are death, but the gift of grace is eternal life. Paul uses our language. We always want the bottom line. Well there you have it.

But you have a choice. Recognize your pitiful, decrepit state. Accept that you are poor and destitute. Embrace it actually. Declare your bankruptcy to the King, Jesus Christ. At that moment He will make you whole. There you will find not only your debts paid in full, but a kingdom. A kingdom where life is abundant, hope is the currency, mercy rains down like an spring shower, grace abounds, and you are without burden. There you will find the one who took your debt upon Himself. I don't know about you but when someone pays on my behalf, I am grateful. Imagine an eternity of gratefulness, where the one you are grateful toward is equally grateful toward you. There you will experience true love and grace.

Oh, I declare I am bankrupt. I am destitute and desperate. I am the worst of the worst. I live in the depths of debt spiritually. I have turned with reckless abandon toward my own selfish desires. Sin is my nature and my desire. Oh God! I am a complete wreck. I am damaged goods. Hear my cry, I am poor. I say it again, I am totally bankrupt. I can't be trusted with your kingdom, but yet somehow I know you will entrust it to me and any of other poor fool who gives ourselves away to you. I do not understand your love or your grace, but I seek to embrace them. Father, keep my mind wrapped around my bankruptcy so that I may depend solely on your provisions and there be room enough in me to receive them. In Christ Jesus' name, Amen.

A Handout

Interestingly enough, I discovered this week that people, in general, fight the idea of free. There appears to be a fear of the handout.

For example, at my place of employment we were offering customers a card that provided them with a code for a free music download. Almost without fail, every person would respond,"what's the catch?"

This morning a friend of mine from LHC was telling me about his experience handing out free toothbrushes in the community. He said he had a man raise his voice at him declaring that NOTHING IS FREE. There were even a contigent of girl scouts selling leftover cookies who commented on the situation, "We are having better luck selling stuff than you are giving it away free."

I surmise that there exist a "strings-attached" syndrome. Maybe it's a lack of trust or just a simple guilt complex where we feel a sense of "IOU" regardless. Maybe the American way has taken root: if you want something you work hard to get it. Perhaps, people have simply lost the understanding of charity. I believe the more likely issue is pride.

This week's events have led me to begin to understand people's subtle and outright refusal of the Gospel. In the Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning states, "Jesus comes not for the super-spiritual but for the wobbly and the weakkneed who know they don't have it all together, and who are not too proud to accept the handout of amazing grace." Read that line again. Yahweh's amazing, matchless, uncomprehendable grace is a handout. That's right friends Yahweh hands out His grace as a free gift. No, you don't work to earn it. You don't just happen onto it. You don't even ask first. Yahweh hands you grace. But that doesn't make it cheap.

Go ahead, let the handout image take root. I'll even help. When most us of hear the word" handout" we immediately assume poor, needy, some when even goes as far to say, "those who are looking for an easy way out." You got that visual... Good, welcome to grace.

People accept handouts because their need overrules their pride. The only sense the needy know takes the shape of desperate. A person in real need becomes reckless-abandon in getting what is required for survival. The recognized need must be met and will readily be done so through whatever means necessary. Yes, even a handout. And no fellow skeptics, it's not stealing when you take something that has been freely offerred.

And for those of us who suffer from the "strings-attached" syndrome, you are justified but only on the past tense. Christ cut the strings when He gave His life on a tree. He took our curse. What we should have had to work for in terms of the Law... He fulfilled with His complete obedience even into death. The moment his life was cut short by death on the cross, so were the strings. So, I remind you this handout of grace is not cheap. It came at the price of life. I know your still wondering. Thats cool, let's consider the otherside of the coin. Now that I've taken the handout, what next?

The beauty of free grace... no expectations. Let's use logic here for a moment, the most likely thing to occur when you accept a handout is you take advantge of possessing it. If someone handed you a million dollars you would effectively put it to use. When people accept the handout of grace they are overwhelming compelled to experience it fully. And that's when life gets interesting... A free gift of grace transforms you into a being who is indeed free. Free from the eternal bondage of sin and it's effects (death, seperation, shame, etc). Free from oh yes religious expectations. Free from any type of limitation. Admit it, the whole "free" idea completely scares you. I bet it even makes you uncomfortable.

You're thinking to yourself: Thats just not kosher. You right, it's not. It's grace and by the way, did i mention it's a handout? Don't let the hand of God scare you... He holds life in it and He's offereing it to you, and to everyone who has need. He does reach down to give you punishment and take away everythingnwe consider as life. Quite the contrary, He offers life more abundant. Aren't you tires of living in a cage? You know you want to be free, but are you ready to admit you need to be free? Yahweh's hand is out and it's free for you...
Ready to take a handout?

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Freedom

As I watched the graphic novel turned movie, 300, a quote struck me. As King Leonidas wrestles with the decision to go and break the Greek law he swore to protect and honor, his wife, the queen, counters him with a powerful line: "It is not a question of what a Spartan citizen should do, or a husband, or a king. It's to ask yourself, dearest love... What should a free man do?" What should a free man do?

In reality, most of us can can't ask ourselves the question Leonidas' queen asks. Why? I am so glad you asked. You see, the majority of us, do not accept freedom. We love our bondage. Our bondage may be simple and petty, but in many cases it keeps us grounded. One's bondage could be something blatant like illegal drugs or murder. Or it could be something as innocent as the occasional slip of the tongue or mere self-righteousness. It could be an action we feel gives us the power to "stick it to the man" or a sheer act of unequivocal disobedience. It could be nothing more than gluttony or plain laziness. It may be unmentionable or down-right despicable. It could appear justified and valiant, but wrongly motivated all the same. But one typically does not have to dig deep to find their chains. I will say it again, most of us prefer them.

But why, I ask. What about our chains, our bondage is so inviting? Why do we find our defiance of freedom so tantalizing? Are we afraid of the rush we will find in freedom? Do we fear the unknown and the unpredictable to the point we will endure torture and shame? I warn you, friend... it is unneccessary. Take it from one who has tasted freedom. NO, I do not mean a free country, where you are bound by often times unseemingly senseless laws and even logical, necessary ones. I mean real freedom. Freedom from detestable self-bonding chains. Freedom that exhilirates the mind, the heart, and the spirit. Freedom that eliminates shame, guilt, and oh yeah security.

Believe it friends. The freedom I speak of is far from safe. It will cost you. How much you ask? Well probably everything but that's really nothing. Life is all any one has and the freedom of which I speak provides you with life in an overflowing, never-ending reservoir of life. But you have to ask yourself a real question... I am ready to truly live? I am ready to be totally free? I explicitly warn you not to accept an offer to life and freedom unless you are ready give up your bondage. Because, oh by the way, you will be asked to leave it at the check-in desk before you crossover.

If you are ready to live, then follow me. The preceeding line is not a call from AO. That prhase came from the mouth of Christ as he spoke to his disciples. That's what Christ said to me. That's what Christ says to you. Oh yeah, He's talking to you, kid! If you are ready to discover and explore and what a free man should do, then join me in the journey. The good news remains, we do not have to answer the quetion alone. I encourage you brothers and sisters alike, if you are ready to live or just desire to know more leave a comment, email me (brotherao@gmail.com), pull me aside, get my attention, just let me know. P.S. You have been warned.

Altered

My sister, Alana, weighs heavy on my heart. Her fight and just life in general have long served as an inspiration to me. Now, for those of you who are unaware, Alana is my younger sister. She suffers from Cystic Fibrosis and epilepsy. Before I jump in head first on this post, let provide you a bit of the back story.

Cystic Fibrosis is a inherited disease (both parents must be a carrier of the gene) that adversely affects the respiratory and digestive systems (more info on CF). With any disease it comes in varying degrees of of intensity. On a scale of 1-10 Alana probably ranged between a 7 and 8 (more towards 8). Definitely not the worst case, but suffered from a bad case nonetheless. She spent a majority of her life in a hospital, Le Bonheur Children's Hospital in Memphis, TN and then later at UAB in Birmingham, AL. She had a quick bout with epilepsy for about 2 years (1992-1994) and with proper medication, the seizures faded. She graduated high school and even won Homecoming queen. When she turned 18, she could no longer go to a receive treatment at a children's hospital and was in need of a double lung transplant anyway so that's where she shifted to UAB. Eighteen months they told us, and you will have two new lungs. Three years later, we were still waiting, hoping, grasping at straws. Time was not Alana's friend and the docs were running out of creative treatment options. We got several calls and none of them worked out. One little thing would be amiss. It wouldn't be a tissue match, the lungs weren't a good match, she had a fever, etc. Then it happened, I was on my way home from a two and half week trip in India, and my family got the call. It was a go. The procedure took way longer than expected thanks to Alana's concrete lungs (hardened mucus), but all in all the procedure was a success. In actuality, Alana recovered in record time. The docs set the expectation that you will be there for months and Alana was in and out within 5 weeks. UNHEARD OF, by the way. Yes, a little on the miraclous side. The next year would be prove to be glorious, she got married and got to live like the rest of us. Deep breaths, she could actually talk on the phone with out losing her breath. It was an awesome time. We watched her bloom and she just glowed.

The next part I don't even know how to express. The past year has been difficult to watch, even from a distance for me. Her seizures are back in full effect, she shakes to the point she can't write, eating is troublesome, and she is a prisoner in her home because she can't drive, the dephts of depression rest upon her. Alana is not my sister anymore. I don't know the altered spirit that now resides in her. My heart breaks for her. I so desperately want to be her BIG brother and save the day, but I am powerless. I want to yell, kick, and scream. I want to be the one whose sick, so she doesn't have to be. Let me bear the burden. I want to make things better for her. I want to make things better for her husband. I want to give her a life worth living, but how?

I recall something she said back when the doctors were explaining the possible outcomes that result from a double lung transplant and just a transplant in general. They painted a realistic picture. They said things like this could happen. But who knew. You want and expect the best and we got it for a year. I am scared to even post this, just because of its content. I don't know if I want people to read this. I will be upfront and honest, I don't want to read it, much less write it. Yes, I am questioning where God is in all of this. I would be a bold liar if I said I wasn't. But, the problem is I know where God is in all of it. He right smack in the middle of it. His purpose in my sister's life is bigger than my understanding. I will even go as far to say that He is altering the way I think and believe because of her. I know, as an American in some twisted way, I have become convinced health is a right, when in reality I know it is not.

Nonetheless, stuff like this gives you real perspective on living, not just life. Because here is the deal, there a lot of easy solutions for Alana. I don't have to spell them out for you or for her. She knows them and talks openly about them. But has said time and time again, I've come this far why give up now. How do you say that! I mean really HOW DO YOU SAY THAT!!!! My life has been easy compared to hers and I don't have the balls the say that. God knows that if he did give me her sickness and circumstances I would quit (I'm a wuss to the inth degree when it comes to sickness).

I mean I can't even compehrend a life of suffering, like she has known, and oh by the way, I lived it with her. I can't even imagine life the way she has had to bear it and yet she can say, why give up now. I want to give up for her. I want to say make it all go away God. Alana is the strongest person I know. Her will and her fight are like that of a lion. Life hears her roar and puts it's tail between it's legs. Alana Oliver-Mills is the real deal. Despite being captive to a incurable disease, she lives. Muhammod Ali eat your heart out. You may have flown like a butterfly and stung like a bee, but Alana has given life 24 solid rounds and continues to punch hard. I wonder, do I fight with the same kind of resiliency she has boldly demonstrated and continues to. Man, I owe a lot to my sister. She's taught me more about living than anybody I know. Thank you Alana for never giving up. Thank you Alana for fighting when throwing in the towel would have been so much more simple. Thank you Alana for giving me reason to keep on. Thank you Alana for teaching me what it means to be REAL! Thank you God, for blessing me with a sister who knows how to live. I am in your debt Alana. I love you. I am altered because of you (and for the better).

In Between... Still

I heard a wise pastor once say, "Alan, as a pastor, you will preach a sermon that will morph into your life sermon." I questioned, "What do you mean?" He responded, "A life sermon will be one that forever serves as Yahweh's message to you. It will be the sermon that engulfs and informs your being, your mission, and your soul." Oh, ok.

On December 28, 2008, I preached a sermon entitled In Between. Well, it may not prove to be my life sermon, but it certainly serves as my "right now" sermon. You can listen to In Between by clicking here.

So, yeah I am in between... still. I will be transparent with you and confess: I am in between infuriating anger and astounding compassion. In between wanting to throw in the towel and fight to the death. In between cursing and blessing. In between a moment of strength and a moment of weakness. In between confusion and peace. In between frustration and simply not giving a rip. In between second guessing and confidence. Dude, I am straight up IN BETWEEN.

Understand this post serves more as a therapeutic exercise than as a simple post. I am processing out loud. Yahweh and I are having it out and anyone who chooses to read this simply has the benefit of listening in on an engaging, ongoing, real conversation between a weak, broken child and his loving Father.

Father, I greatly desire to be obedient. I realize life is a movement of "in betweens". Now matter how hard I try I will always be in between, but I pray that you will give me power and faith to go forward, cross between the walls of strife that seek to overcome me. Yes, I hear you, I must keep moving. I will move and I will watch you move just as you did that day when the Egyptians chased the Israelites. I will move and I will watch you move just as you did on the day you put your son, Jesus Christ, on a god-forsaken tree to be crucified and die in place of sinners like me. I will move and I will watch you move as you did on the day the stone was rolled away from the tomb to reveal HE LIVES! I will move and I will watch for the day you move again in the return of your Son. Marantha! This time is yours Father, just as it always has, always is, and always will be. Do with it what You will. Into Your hands I give my life, my love, my all. In Christ's name, AMEN.

Search Me (Part 2)

The most basic way I can explain my experience yesterday is as follows.

I simply prayed three words: God, search me. So you could say God (aka Yahweh) typed my name in the search line at Google and clicked the "I'm Feeling Lucky" button. The top results:

His thoughts of me before the foundations of the earth.
His plan for my life that He has known since before time.
His creating me and my birth.
My life, my heart, my mind, and my strength (oh yeah and my weaknesses).

The crazy part about all of this is he knew I was going to make my search request on that very day at that very moment before He even created me. So, needless to say He came to our meeting yesteday prepared, or would it just be suffice to say omniscient. Either way, He knew my innermost thoughts and shared them with me. Compare it to that moment when you know something and someone else becomes aware that you know and they too know what it is, but you don't want them to know it. Yeah, not a good time. But He was not angry or upset. He calmly laid ME out in front of me and said, "AO, I love you." Now, I remind you, I know ME. I am messed up, screwed up, torn up, beat up, a good for nothing, piece of crap. I am inconsistent, incompentent, insane, and invalid. I am selfish, self-righteous, self-involved, and just plain full of myself. And Yahweh has the audacity to say, "AO, I love you." At that moment, I knew it. Pure truth poured from His mouth. I couldn't argue with it, despite wanting to. I knew I couldn't escape it. His presence and love would follow me. They would be there waiting for me where ever I ran to and remain my constant companions as I ran. What I would want to be a lonely trail, would turn into an adventure in love. My only choice... acceptance. I could not refute the TRUTH.

By acceptance, I mean accepting the truth that Yahweh has, does, and always will love me and accepting the reality of being unconditionally loved. I can accept the truth part, but accepting the reality part remains a challenge. A challenge that I will battle everyday. Remember, I am MESSED UP. Love will make you honest too, by the way.

Truth trashed me right there. Now, I went from messed up to extremely messed up, but in the best way. Love, real love will mess you up. It will get all over you. It will strip down your pride, wipe out your defenses, and leave you vunerable. I confess, there is something about vunerability that brings excitement, humility, and authentic fear (the best kind though). For some Godly reason, I am AO-k with that fact. As a result, my prayer will continue to be: God, search me.

Inspiration for this blog comes from Psalm 139.

Search Me (Part 1)

This morning, during my 10 & 10 (a practice where you take 20 minutes to communicate with Yahweh... 10 minutes talking & 10 minutes listening... it's how a conversation works [Communication 101]) and let me tell you He got all over me. Thankfully. So, I am certain He did nothing more than just turn the faucet on just enough to get a drip ( like you do when it's going to freeze overnight and you don't want the pipes to freeze) but it felt like the force of a fire hydrant. Oh gosh a migthy!! But you want to know the surprising part about the experience, the violent rush ushered in refreshment like jumping into a pool on hot day. As the flood rushed over me, I felt my bitterness, anger, confusion, doubt, guilt, shame, and all my simple AO tom-foolery wash away. As quickly as those conditions washed away, newness came upon me. At that moment, I knew joy, relief, and hope. I still don't have answers to many of my questions but God said, "AO, you don't need them now." Ok, if you say so.

This all started with three simple words, "God, search me." That's right Psalm 139. I will continue this blog later. Here's a teaser... I bet you didn't know God invented Google.

Get the Point, AO

For any of you who question whether or not God still communicates, then let me put your fears at ease. Now please understand that I will be using a great deal of discretion in sharing this story. Those of you familiar with my story will understand, otherwise I just ask that you appreciate the the main point... God gets his point across.

Yesterday (January 28, 2009), I had a first. I had my first drive in real snow and ice. It was awesome. I will attempt to blog about the experience at The Oliver Tale. Nonetheless, I made it to work safely and was greeted at the door by the gracious Jack Craig. He is such an encourager. After a brief meeting with him, I felt it necessary to seek the face of the Lord. So, I took to the discipline of prayer. "Father, what do you want me to do today?" That's all I asked. I listened... nothing. I opened my Bible... nothing. I wanted to hear the small, still voice, but apparently it was a bit too small and still for me at that moment. The sound of my racing heart, raging emotions, and uneasy spirit provided to much distraction. It was getting close to staff meeting, so I trucked off to the rest room. As I returned, I noticed I had mail in my box. I sifted through the two items and something caught my eye. I pulled out a promotional card for who knows what and read the following: Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. Ephesians 4:32. At that moment, I felt God say, "AO, this is my word to you today, my child." I can't even begin to tell you how that rocked my world. It would turn out to be useful. Oh just so you don't think it was a sillly AO thing... later that afternoon, as I was reviewing our Kids Worship material for Sunday, I discovered the key verse to be Ephesians 4:32. NO KIDDING!!! That ate my lunch for sure.

So, I came home early (to beat the White Death) and studied Ephesians 4:32 hard. Now, Ephesians just happens to be my favorite book of the Bible. I know you aren't supposed to have favorites, but it's just raw and real to me. Ephesians is all encompassing, yet simple. Ephesians tells a story that I am play an active part in and I just can't get enough. Ephesians 4:32 brings chapter 4 to a close. It is the lynch pin that holds Paul's teaching on life in the Spirit and being an imitator of God together. The imperative in 4:32 is "be". I know I am get consumed with the "do" and forget about the "be". The text (the Greek text that is) actually indicates that our being is not dependent on us, but some outside force. A force acting out on and in us empowering us to "be". Now, if you just read 4:32 by itself you miss this completely. We can only "be" because of the life we have and live in the Spirit (recall Ephesians 4:3-4 and following).

And Paul seals up his thought so nicely with: just as you have been freely given forgiveness from God in Christ. Paul makes theology simple, but so profound. We have nothing on our own. All that we have whether it be forgiveness, life, breath, gifts, etc. we have because God has given it to us in Christ. Oh thank you Lord for Jesus Christ. Thank you for kindly and calmly making sure I get the point. I get it.

P.S. Yes, God calls me AO.

Change

Dear America,

Today, the long awaited promise of "change" will officially begin tenure. How many times have we heard the campaign slogan of "change"? Countless, I know. But for the first time in history we will have it on day one. How long it will last, we know for sure at least 4 years. But, I would like to challenge us all to take a long hard look at today and the events will transpire.

Whether or not you agree politically with our President elect Barak Obama, you must confess his election to the respected office is a milestone in our American history. Now, sure President elect Obama has a white mother and grew up in surburbia does not take away from his climb to success. I am proud of our nation in giving this man an opportunity. For when you boil it all down, which I myself attempt to do, all you have is a man. He is no more or less a man than I am and for that he deserves my respect, regardless of his skin color. I feel we forget at critical times that we live in a free country where differing viewpoints are not only accepted but encouraged, within reason for sure.

Today, we as Americans must put aside our differences and celebrate a momentous, historical occasion. I hope we can look at January 20, 2009 as a turning point in our country. A day where we let go of the past and continue to move forward to a bright future of change. I do hope and pray that our new President will bring more than just a change in presidents. I know the cards are stacked against him and only our Great God knows President elect Obama has been dealt a most horrible hand to play. But if America hopes to succeed it will not come from throwing another president under the bus. Yes, national media I speak to you as well. We see all to well how overly scrutinizing a President can not only destroy the man, but it can severely damage our nation as a whole. Let's be honest with ourselves, in our current hardship we all need to "change" and get on the same team. I heard President elect Obama say in an interview yesterday, "We all have to chip in." This was as he was painting a dorm room for homeless teenagers.

I do not seek to lift up Barak Obama as a national hero. Our country does not need a hero. We need our nation to be UNITED. We need to join hands and hearts and rise above our plight. I only propose that we give this man, this human being, a fair shot. Again, I do not ask that anyone let go of their principles nor should any of us give him and his staff a get out of jail free card. But I do ask that we, as Americans, "change" as well. Change our hearts toward one another. Change our minds and hearts and begin to make a difference in our homes, in our coummunties, in our states, in our nation, in our world. Let's give "change" a chance. If you want to pro-actively move in the direction of change yourself check out twelvethreeconspiracy.blogspot.com.

The 12:3 Conspiracy is a movement being led by my LEAD Pastor and friend, Jeff Flowers. It is a movement to find ways to be actively involved in real change, not only in your community and beyond, but in your life.

Will you be a conspirator? Will you give "change" a chance? The ball is your court. Don't look back on today as a day you missed your opportunity. Change.