Plot Points

Story Telling - The ability to talk until you have something to say.
-Garrison Keillor

Have you ever been in the middle of telling a funny story when you suddenly realize that the story is not funny at all? In fact, it is downright stupid? Welcome to every day of my life.

I started this blog to be a starting point. It is just a plot point in a story that has been telling itself to me for many years. Since I started these short entries, I also began writing a book. So, allow me to rephrase my earlier question. Have you ever been writing a book when you suddenly realize that the story is not interesting at all? In fact, it is downright boring? Welcome to every day of my life.

All those things they say about how difficult it is to write a book are absolutely true. It is quite a lot of work. I always assumed that going into the process but I still couldn't imagine what the difficult part would be. Now I'm starting to piece some of it together.

My wife, Aly, once told me that she wished she had a better testimony. For Christians, your testimony is sort of an important thing. It is the story of how you came to follow Christ. Some people have these really elaborate stories about how they were lying in a gutter after a massive drug trip, then they heard God speak to them and dropped their needles cold turkey. Crazy stuff like that. Others can give you the exact date that they prayed a prayer and explain in detail how their life began to change from that moment on.

What troubled Aly was that she didn't feel like anyone would be interested in her story. That it was boring. This is the case for many Christians I meet who grew up in a Christian home or who were always involved with a church. They say that there is nothing to tell concerning their testimony.

I fall into this category. The story of how I got to know Jesus is fairly uneventful.

However, I would like to propose an idea that I stumbled upon. I have another friend who told me the same thing. He said that his story was just not that interesting. But every time we get together I've learned to start asking him questions and encouraging him to speak. I started because I find his stories to be absolutely fascinating. Each time we talk he has something interesting and thought provoking to share. Let me give you an example:

A few weeks ago, we were at this cigar thing that a few of my friends and I host once a month. It's a time for guys to hang out and get to know each other better. It's really not a big thing, but with every event we put together, it seems that something unique happens. Usually it's around one or two in the morning after most of the crowd has left. That's when things get interesting.

At our last event, there were seven of us left when one guy shared his own story with us. He was really struggling with some stuff and wanted our opinion. I spoke a lot, as I tend to do, and a few other guys contributed as well. Then my friend, the one with the boring story, he decided to chime in. He had the most amazing things to say. It was so personal and yet universally practical at the same time. What he said was very meaningful and I can honestly say it spoke to all of us and not just our troubled friend.

So, here is what I've learned. Your story matters. Even if you think that you have nothing of value to add to the conversation. Our stories shape who we are. There are always others who are on the same journey but just have not  reached to the same point as you. You may not have done anything really exciting in your life, but that does not mean that you haven't learned anything along the way. And it certainly doesn't mean that people are not interested.

Though it has been a challenge, my book is coming along just fine. It is a memoir of sorts so it deals with my own story. The problem I have is that I often question whether or not anyone cares what I have to say. It just doesn't seem like there is enough excitement. So I guess I'm writing this blog for me as much as for you. Thanks for reading and thanks for listening to my stories.

Note - I've included some of the pictures I've been editing from my backyard. This is where I get to do most of my writing.

The Great Gatsby - A Forward

  I was in high school the first time I read F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. Even then I knew there was something I loved about this novel though I couldn't put a finger on it. You see, back then I was required to read. We would have a set number of assigned chapters and then a quiz followed by some discussion of themes. We read all kinds of great book but Gatsby was one of the few I actually finished. Back then, I was too worried about girls to read books. Maybe that was what I loved about the book.


  Since then I have revisited the novel half a dozen times. Every few years I start to forget the details and a new urge to relive this story rises up in me. It is the same feeling as remembering something that happened to you many years prior that you will never forget. "Remember the time..." For me, the experience is the same. From the first sentence I become Nick Carraway and I am remembering the events of that long ago summer. "In my younger and more vulnerable years..." and so on. I can hear the sounds of Gatsby's wild parties. I see the eyes of Dr. Eckleburg piercing my skin and revealing my secrets. I can still taste the brandy and wine on my lips.

  It interests me that this story has stuck with our culture for so long. With Baz Luhrmann's latest installment, there are now four motion pictures based upon Fitzgerald's greatest work. But what is it that keeps the story so interesting to us today? It's not like there is a particular amount of action, save a few scenes. Due to Fitzgerald's attentiveness to detail, the story will forever be captured in the hustle and bustle of the roaring twenties. And yet it speaks to us somehow. There is an element of the story that seeps out to capture our attention.

  Still, with each reading I find myself among the characters as each plot point unfolds. What I think captures my attention the most, as with many readers, is Gatsby himself. Jay Gatsby, from the moment he is introduced, has a noticeable air about him. He views the American Dream differently than ever other character. While the others get caught up in the superficiality of life, Gatsby seems to think that the world can be better than it appears. He is a true romantic. And it's Gatsby's American Dream that I see as the key component of this woeful tale. It is what leaps off the pages and has a direct affect on us, the reader. To me, that is why Fitzgerald uses Nick as his main character. Although the story of Gatsby's pursuit of Daisy is meant to hold our attention, the change that takes place in Nick is what we can really relate to. It is because that change is meant to take place in us as well.

  As the years have gone by, I have finished reading most of the books that I neglected in high school. Each has had something spectacular to say that makes me wish I had not ignored them back then. But The Great Gatsby still stands above the others to me. Maybe it is the superb writing, or maybe it just holds a special place in my heart. But I truly believe that this book will always be read. Years from now people will still be retelling F. Scott Fitzgerald's tale. Each time they do, giving new life to Gatsby's American Dream.

I Used To Go To a Church

 
          Let me start with this: I used to go to a church. You may know what church I'm talking about, or you may think you know, but may I please emphasize how unimportant the name on the sign may be. Though my own experiences have shaped the outline of this story, the building itself is merely a footnote. The truth is, if you've gone to any church, then we may in fact share the same story.

           Over the course of my life, I have been an active attendee of several churches. Although every church is different, they have a lot of similarities. A common opinion about churches is that they should function like a community or a family of sorts. Churches light up these words on signs just off the highway. They use them to identify to the world what it is they stand for. And often they are not too far off. When you frequent a place often enough, it is more than likely that you will form bonds with the people you see every week. And that's what I like about church. It ceases to be what you get out of it and becomes what you can pour into it. But that's a different story.

           It has been awhile since I've been to this particular church, but I had an opportunity recently to speak with many of my friends who also used to attend. Visiting with old friends is like dreaming of a movie that you've already lived. It is a reimagining of what was and a reflection of how you came to be the person you are today. It is both refreshing to the soul and deeply painful to the heart. The perfect blend of joy and sadness. As friends often do, we spoke of things that are only interesting to those involved in the narrative. And as it goes with most of these encounters, you begin to wonder what happened to the others. There is a vibrant cast of supporting characters in each of our stories that fade into our memories.

I must refrain from the details. I do not wish to gossip, so for the sake of those who may think they know any of these individuals I will keep things as vague as I can. But some of the details are important to the narrative.

           We told stories of extreme pain. Stories of our friends losing their grip on reality. Stories of people who were hurting and people who hurt others. It is amazing how much divorce is rampant in a place where relationships are held in the highest regard. Financial ruin, arrests, infidelity, and so on and so on.... Keep in mind, these are people that I used to see every week for years. People that I knew very well. People that I love. So it's hard to hear these stories. You want to pretend that they don't exist.

           My friend Zach told my wife recently that some people decide to go back to their college town in hopes that they can relive the time they spent there. Or something like that. I think that is true with churches too. In a community, you don't just see people every so often. You are living your life out alongside them. Life is happening. When that life is no longer available, you long for it. We had something really special while at this church and I still miss it today. Knowing what we had there together and knowing how much things have changed for the worse is difficult to take in. It is the unfortunate reality of all relationships. But there is an exception.

           The purpose of this writing is to illustrate where I think we often fail as a church community. You see, I've been witness to many people in very similar situations. When your life collapses, you need someone to keep you afloat. Often times, we Christians get a little too wrapped up in the sin of a situation. Or we think too much about the politics of how we respond. We sometimes make decisions with our gut or with a handbook rather than with our heart. I've made these mistakes and I still pay for them today. Even as I type these words I am faced with the reality of relationships that I crushed with my own actions. But I've learned a lot from those mistakes.

           We all screw up from time to time. Some of us worse than others. Some much worse. But if Jesus is our example, we must remember to grab our friends by the arm and say, "I've been there." "I'm here for you." "I know you're hurting, but I'm not letting you go." We must remain one thing above all else: a community.

           Not all stories end poorly. Many people have since left my old church and left for good reasons. It has changed for the better along with the worse. Some churches and some communities will shrivel and die in the face of adversity. But my old friends, along with the church we used to frequent, continue to persevere. That is the message of the gospel really. It is a story of redemption when there was no hope to be found. Regardless of how many people from that community are suffering today, new life awaits each one of them.

Death's Sting

Let me start by saying that I have not known very many people that have died. A few, but not many. So, I'm not exactly an expert on the subject. There are many people I know who are able to recount the feelings they had when someone they were close to ceased to be physically present in their lives. I know enough only to be sure that this is a difficult experience. But where I am well versed on the topic of death is much different than experience.

So here it is. I am afraid of death. I know I shouldn't be. As someone who believes in Jesus, I really shouldn't be. The Bible even says I shouldn't be. Yet, here I am.

Understand that I am slightly obsessive compulsive. Especially when it comes to certain things. That old saying, "better safe than sorry", I want to murder the guy who came up with that haunting phrase (which I suppose is appropriate considering the topic).

This idea of heaven and hell and "where will you end up when you die?" has torn me apart right to my core. Because I'd rather be safe than sorry in the realm of eternity. I've been to enough fire and brimstone church services that I'll be messed up for a long time. Maybe that is why I feel a sharp sense of disgust when I see these guys in black suits on the side of Davis Highway thumping their Bible at me. I know it's not their fault. They are just doing what they feel is right.

My issue is that I can't get a grasp of the guidelines involved to get into heaven. I sometimes imagine the pearly gates as a kind of nightclub where St. Peter is the bouncer. He wears dark sunglasses and is holding a trendy clipboard, checking off a list of names while a line forms out front. He's watching his ratios. This being the case, in the back of my mind there is this tiny voice.

"Are you sure you're right?" it says.
"What if you missed something"
"Maybe the KJV movement is onto something"

Sometimes it just makes me chuckle quietly to myself. Other times I am paralyzed with an existential crisis that shuts me down mentally. I'm not exagerating this. Total shutdown. Like when 007 or Macgyver pulls the right wire with 1 second left on the timer and the bomb is rendered useless. That's me.

Why am I telling you this? You see, despite my own struggle with the end, I believe in something better. I believe in a faith that is less concerned about getting a ticket to the eternal nightclub and more concerened about loving others, feeding the poor, and caring for the sick. Loving God is not a matter of what you get out of it. It's about giving something back.

Don't misunderstand me. I believe in the afterlife and heaven and hell. I really do. But I don't always agree with the presentation of the topic. I know of conversations had by myself and others dealing with eternity that were very loving and very real. They meant something. Those stories are too personal for me to share here, but it is important to note them. If you believe in God, these conversations are a reality of that faith.

God and I had a mental conversation recently. If you didn't read my recent entry about talking to God, then please note that I did not hear a booming voice from the sky. What did happen, when I was having one of these mental checks about the afterlife, was I felt a small nudging in the back of my head. It said, "I'm sorry." Then I thought, "what does God have to be sorry about?"

I think that for many years I had a slightly misguided perception of who God is. I don't blame him for it. I've just witnessed too many people try to frighten people into becoming a christian. I take issue with this. I'm tired of it. And I'm tired of being afraid.

Maybe one day I'll write about the death I have experienced in my own life. Maybe one day I'll write about growing old and slowly losing control of your life. Maybe I'll even write about losing a mental grasp of reality. But right now I have only one thing to say. I'm sorry. I'm sorry to all of you that live in fear because you worry more about eternal death than the precious life God has given to you. I'm sorry to those of you who feel you can't have a loving relationship with someone because they don't believe in God. Even more so, I'm sorry to those of you that mourn the loss of those who are close to you.

I'm sorry because I know the words of many people, who mutter the name of God in the same sentence, have not shown you a message of love but one of damnation.

There is obviously more to the topic of death than this. There is a very real discussion to be had about heaven and hell that I don't mean to downplay. There are conversations about motives and ends justifying the means and interpretation and blah blah blah.... But I'm not the right person for those conversations. Not yet at least. Just know that God loves you as you are. Now. Today. When Jesus talks in the gospels He doesn't say that the Kingdom of God will come when you die. He says that the Kingdom of God is at hand. That fact helps me set aside some of these worries.

 

Awe and Wonder

Lucas knows the air museum better than I do. He holds my hand and pulls me along to his favorite exhibits. Under Lake Michigan. Old Pensacola. The mock aircraft carrier. The moon display. And, of course, the Blue Angels. Each destination, though he has visited them many times, brings a glow of excitement to his face. He is filled with awe and wonder at the sight of the aircraft. Each one worn from years of soaring high. Now resting still under bright lights.

When I was a boy I used to dream about flying. I would watch Top Gun and wish I was piloting an f-14 Tomcat and buzzing the tower. I read a book about the Wright Brothers and thought about building my own bicycle, thinking this would somehow get me a step closer to flight. My wife had the same problem. She wanted to be the first female Blue Angel pilot.

Today I watch Star Trek and dream of boldly going where no man has gone before. I always grab the window seat when I fly commercially. I still watch the Blue Angels practice from my front lawn. I take photographs of tiny airplane models under glass.

I remember this time when I was in Central Florida. I bought a car in Tampa and was driving it back to Orlando down Interstate 4. Out of nowhere, a WWII era prop plane dashed over the busy road. I could have crashed the car the way I was straining to see it.

In the Bible, there is a book called Exodus that tells the story of Israel being held as slaves by Egypt. God performed many miracles through a man named Moses in order to set them free. From there, they traveled through the desert in search of a land that God had promised to them. Yet, no matter how many times God helped them on their journey, no matter how many miracles He performed, it seemed that they always lost sight of how powerful their God was. Few remained convinced that God would meet their needs.

Throughout Biblical history, the same story continues to repeat itself. God does something great and then His people forget it ever happened. Aldous Huxley said, "That men do not learn very much from the lessons of history is the most important of all the lessons of history."

Watching my son marvel at these works of aviation reminds me of how I felt as a kid. And though I will probably never fly a plane or land a spacecraft on some distant planet, I still have that feeling in my gut that there is something truly magical about flight. I hope I never lose the awe and wonder of a child watching the wheels of a plane separate from the Earth.

There is a Psalm, number 126, that says,

When the Lord brought back the captive ones of Zion,
We were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter
And our tongue with joyful shouting;
Then they said among the nations,
"The Lord has done great things for them."
The Lord has done great things for us;
We are glad.

Restore our captivity, O Lord, as the streams in the South. Those who sow in tears shall reap with joyful shouting. He who goes to and fro weeping, carrying his bag of seed, shall indeed come again with a shout of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.

In the same way, I hope I never take for granted the awesome things that God has done. Like airplanes at rest, displayed under bright lights.

 

Finding Who We Are

               Lately I have been thinking about hearing from God. Growing up in a religious environment it was always explained that you needed to sit and be still then you could hear what God was trying to say to you. Trust me when I say that I spend a lot of time just sitting and listening. Even so, I haven't been able to make out exactly what God has been trying to tell me. A few days ago, however, a question popped into my head. Am I not able to hear God's voice or is he not saying what I want him to say?

                This question caught me off guard because I knew the answer as soon as I asked it. I just didn't know what that meant for me and I still didn't know what God was trying to tell me.

                Quick back story. A little over a year ago, I had a beer with a friend of mine that I had not seen in a while. We used to go to church together and he had left a job to start his own company. I wanted to know more about it. He started by reminded me about a silly worship song we used to play at our church called "Finding Who We Are". The verse began:


In You we're living
In You we're moving
In You we're finding who we are

               He explained to me how that was his problem. His life had always lacked direction and focus. He didn't know exactly who he was. That's why he had started this company. He felt like this was closer to what God wanted for his life. Of course, I was excited for him and admired his decision. But that left me in a similar situation. Because I didn't know who I was.

                So Alyson and I doubled down. Over that next year we left a church, I quit playing music, I almost left my job, on top of having our little girl, Kaede. I fasted for the first time ever which was quite an experience. We helped start a house church while watching another church die. Yet as much as I listened I never felt like I knew what God was doing to me. Confusion is an understatement.

                Back to my original question. Was I just not hearing from God, or was He not giving me the answer I wanted Him to give?

                A youth pastor I knew used to say this verse all the time to his teens.

Matthew 6:33 (NASB)
But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

                He used to explain how that verse is often translated as "Put God first and He will give you whatever you want." Then he would translate it a different way. "Put God first and He will give you everything that you never knew you wanted."

                See, I think Christians have a problem. I think we use the Bible to try and tell God what to do. Like when a kid doesn't get what he/she wants and says to their father, "But you promised." I will let you imagine the exaggerated tone. We forget that when Jesus asked His disciples to give up everything and follow Him, what He meant was everything. That includes all the plans we had before he came along. When you follow Jesus, you can't just live out your life as if little has changed. Everything changes.

                That brings me here. Another thing I think we Christians do is to imagine this Holy purpose that God has placed on our lives. We spend so much time trying to figure out what it is that we were meant for. And I agree. I think God has a purpose for all of us. But I have spent so much time trying to find my purpose that I forgot to listen to what God was trying to tell me. He was telling me to seek Him first. Make the desire of my heart Him. After that, then He would give me purpose.

                I suppose that this works out differently for everyone. My friend who started his company has made quite a journey since then, and I envy him. As for me, the more I seek after God the more He seems to make me content with where I'm at in life. Things are going well and God seems to be giving me new opportunities that I was not looking for. Things I was running from. And I feel good about that.

                I doubt I'll ever be one of those people who hears the audible voice of God Almighty bellowing from heaven. But I think the more I learn who God is the more i recognize His leading in my life. His voice in all of this.


　
 Matthew 6:30-33 (The Message)
If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

If I Ran the Zoo

               This week I took my kids to the Zoo. Lucas has been a couple times but this was Kaede's first trip. Here in Pensacola we have two zoos within driving distance: one in Gulf Shores and one in Gulf Breeze. We opted for Gulf Shores which included a beautiful drive along the beach. The kids had a blast.

                Being a vegetarian, I have mixed feelings about zoos. Without wasting a lot of your time, let me just say one thing. I find it difficult to see animals behind cages. Granted, I have not seen 90% of these creatures in the wild, but I feel like there is something that is robbed from an animal that is not free to run. Take the lion, for example. We think of the lion as a beast that rules over other beasts. The "king" of the jungle. We have probably all watched National Geographic when a lion hunts down and kills a fleeing gazelle. To see the same power behind a chain link fence, confined to what is basically a jungle gym, takes some of the awe away from an animal so powerful.

                But this story is not about a lion. It is about a tiger and a goose.

                At the beginning of our zoo trip, Lucas spotted a bengal tiger across the lake at the entrance. We started in a different direction all the while listening to Lucas explain that he wanted to see the tiger. "We'll see the tiger in a little while, buddy," was not the correct response. However, he got over this by the time we made it to the reptile exhibit. An hour or so later we got to see the tigers.

                If you have been to a zoo, then you know that the most interesting thing you will usually see a tiger do is sleep. I have cats and that is how they spend the majority of their time as well. The Gulf Shores zoo has a total of six tigers and they were all apparently exhausted from a long day.

                What caught my attention happened when I noticed a tiger pacing along his fence, which is not unusual. But what was unusual was just outside the fence. There was a small white rabbit, enjoying a delicious vegetarian meal, and two white geese. The geese were clearly working on their tan because they were nestled into the grass. I thought to myself, "Wow! If I were a goose, the last place I would pick to take a relaxing nap would be next to the bengal tiger cage." But, there they were.

                I watched them for a little while. Took a couple photographs. Held Lucas up so he could see one of the tigers relaxing in some water. Then, as we were heading to the next exhibit, Lucas noticed the rabbit. Of course he wanted a closer look so we walked that direction. The rabbit, upon seeing the 3-year-old coming at him, darted in a different direction which caused the geese to also relocate. All of the excitement was too much for the tiger who began to pace about, watching the other animals intensely. That's when it happened. One of the geese turned around, rushed at the tiger, and let out a menacing hiss. That's right, the goose hissed at the tiger, and then went about its business. I was stunned.

                It's funny how captivity changes an animal. But to do something so outside of what I thought would be instict was rather odd. What I find more odd is my reaction to the event. See, I've been thinking about it and I can't decide if I am more like the goose or the tiger.

                First, take the goose. Here is an animal that should fear the tiger. The goose is lunch, after all. Yet, at the sight of something that the goose fears locked behind a fence, it is suddenly filled with courage. Strength. Power.

                Then, there is the tiger. The tiger should be in charge here. The goose probably would not have even seen the tiger until it was too late. The tiger is the predator. And still, as I watched this goose taunt such a powerful creature, the tiger was powerless to do anything. So an animal that the tiger would normally strike fear into now jests at the tiger.

                I have to admit, most of the time I feel like that tiger. I feel like I should be in total control of my surroundings. But sometimes the little things that I should not even bat an eye at rear their head and challenge me anyhow. And I feel powerless. I feel trapped behind chain links wishing to strike at what threatens me. But instead I just end up taking a long nap while people stop in for a minute and then head to the next exhibit.

                But, since I am being honest here, the mere fact that my fingers keep typing is proof that I am trying to change that. I have recently set a large goal in front of myself. First I told my wife about it, to make sure I wasn't totally crazy. Then I talked with a few of my close friends. Then I started telling everyone who asked. Now I can't back out of it, even though I sometimes want to. I set this goal bacause I'm scared that I can't do it.

                The point is, sometimes we have to do what scares us the most. We can't be afraid of mistakes and we can't be afraid to fail. Besides, if there is not a risk of failure then it is probably not worth doing. I sincerely do not feel capable of accomplishing my goal. However, since I intend on achieving success then I also intend to stare certain death in the face, pull back my shoulders, and charge.