If I were drowning in water… what would I yell out? Would I yell out? Or would I just sink?

Interesting thought to ask myself. Would I care what others around me would think if they heard me crying out? Would I begin a long, drawn-out conversation to the lifeguard on duty that takes all-too long to get to the point?
No!
Then why am I timid sometimes to cry out to God when I’m drowning? In Scripture, Psalm 69.1, David cries out, “Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck.”

This past weekend, I was over on the West side of Michigan with 300 some people for a student ministry Winter Retreat. Ken Rudolph challenged our students using David’s words- to cry out “God Save Me”. In Psalms, David uses this phrase 126 times! This amazing leader and man of God obviously realized the importance of crying out to his creator.

It is a humbling act- but I need to shout out to God much more often than I do.

“Wherever you are, be all there. Live to the Hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God!” Jim Elliot

And that is what I’m trying to do. Here I am in Kalamazoo hanging out with my friend Dan so the morning commute to Grand Rapids won’t sting quite as much as the drive from Troy. Tomorrow is my second of five Saturday seminars in the Ministry Leadership program through Cornerstone University. Last spring, I left architecture school because it was not God’s Will. Don’t get me wrong; I loved my classes, classmates, professors, and projects. But as the designs went by and different projects were chosen for the gallery, the ‘climb’ was all wrong. I was not following the Will of God.

I’m now ‘living life to the hilt’ because I decided to obey.

I am thrilled to be the Woodside Student Ministry Intern since May 28th! I am also the Administrator for all technical aspects of rooms 231 and 232.

A bit about myself: I am an art and architecture person, a reader, a runner, uncle of two, brother of two sisters, son of faithful parents, music person, outdoor lover, water sports person, coffee drinker, and traveler… especially Chicago, where a special someone resides.

I am excited to share random thoughts, interesting articles, and pose compelling questions on a weekly basis.

I’ve had a few people ask me about the dearth of blog entries and have said to me that they don’t know what’s going on in my head now… So here goes…

I had a staff meeting this morning – that isn’t strange, we have one every Tuesday morning at 8am (ouch – seriously) – but today one of the ladies that is on staff shared her “story” which apparently everyone has done over the last year and a half or so. I don’t know her well but what I know is that she is funny, a little sarcastic, but all in all – I would call her “fun”.

When she finished her story – I was STUNNED.

Her story sounded like it had been ripped from the pages of the Old Testament or the promo for an upcoming episode of Oprah. Unloved, abused, neglected, homeless, drug addicted, sexually active, pregnant, raped… I sat and listened as tears filled my eyes and pain pierced my heart. To hear her say that God has used her story to restore her family and to ultimately RESCUE HER, was beyond moving. It was miraculous. It was humbling. It was exhilarating.

The most powerful thing to me is that Jesus would have been her friend. He would have been near her when she was using, comforted her when she was beaten and impregnated, had compassion and tenderness for her after she was raped.

The kingdom of heaven is full of people with stories like hers - people who have seen the glory of God’s scandalous grace and his irresistible love.

After she shared, different staffers shared words of encouragement and affirmation with her – and one pointed to a passage of scripture, Proverbs 31. This chapter contains a description about the Virtuous Wife – and the verse that really hits home says that “Her children will rise up and call her blessed…”

Now I was crying again – not because I know her family or her children – but because of something from my own past.

I have made a lot of jokes about the Christian product sub-culture, from the Faith Poker Chips, to TestaMints – but I have to confess that one year for mother’s day, I made a purchase of an overtly Christian T-shirt for my mom. It said, #1 MOM on the front, and on the back it quoted that verse about the children rising up from Proverbs 31. I remember giving it to her, and watching her eyes well up with tears and she pointed to the sky and said “This has been my dream all my life… That I could be this kind of a mother.”

My mother had a similar childhood to hers. Alcoholic father. Abuse. Fear. Thankfully, my mom’s father quit drinking and eventually came to Christ, but the damage had been done. Later in life, her suffering would change its form and come at her in the form of Stage 4 brain and lung cancer (non-smokers). This cancer, instead of stealing her hope and joy, somehow enhanced them with a side order of evangelistic urgency. I watched as she became the most desperate preacher of the gospel this side of the priest having an emergency mass while the Titanic was going down. I watched her share the story of a man named Jesus that wanted to save people from the inside out, even as her body was being ravaged by the cancer in the same way. She lived her last 4 and a half years as if each day was her last, confident that she would be with her Jesus when her job was finished here.

What kind of a kingdom is built upon the suffering of its own? What kind of a building rests on a foundation of persecution and pain? What kind of a love only grows stronger the more it is beaten and kicked? When’s the last time any of our world leaders or “kings” has ever been called a “servant” or “humble”? This kingdom of God is truly a new world order. The Gospel. The Good News. All are welcome – not many enter.

My heart is heavy today because I miss my mom. She loved Christmas. She loved people. But most of all – she loved Jesus, and I’m sure she is excited to spend her first Christmas with Him.

By the way, I share my story in staff meeting next week.

I heard it again… Cancer has been found in someone I love. It was last week, and Angela and I had just landed in Minneapolis for a quick visit for some small group research with a local church that does them well. We had just finished lunch at Jamie and Gretchen’s when Ange made the call to find out how the appointment went.

Scotty and Mary Syde stepped into our lives in the fall of 2001 and very quickly became family to us. When I found out about my mom’s cancer in early ’02, they were over at our house minutes later crying with us and buying me a plane ticket for the next day to go surprise her. They made it possible for me to walk into my mom’s hospital room and see her tears of surprise.

Scotty was my right hand man in Student Ministries – making everyone feel welcome and solving any problem, whether in our Youth Room or in Honduras. Scottie is one of those people that has a magnetism about him that affects everyone around him – if he is on board, everyone is on board. In fact, I used to call him a dreamer, but I realized that he isn’t so much a dreamer, as he is a doer, someone who recognizes big dreams and champions them early and passionately to the point where it seems like his idea. He is what every transformation needs – a strong proponent of the vision – no matter how crazy it may be.

Scotty and I have a relationship that is hard to describe – on one hand I see him as a great friend, an intimate ally that I can have great times with but also share my heart with. On the other hand, he and Mary have been like parents to Angela and I when we lived in Minnesota. Our actual families were hundreds of miles away, but Scotty and Mary proved to be just a phone call away. They were with us in when we were looking at houses, and even there when we bought our first! Scotty would be the first call I would make if Ange got sick, and he was the first and most frequent visitor when her illness led her to a hospital bed. We celebrated Christmas with them and their son Dan, who is in my inner circle of lifelong friends and someone with whom I share too many hobbies and interests to list. Most Sunday nights would find Angela and I laughing and swapping stories in their living room until well past midnight (so late that Scotty would be sound asleep but would try to act as if he was still listening). Scotty is a friend and feels a lot like a dad to me at times when mine is far away.

One of the biggest strengths and maybe even his biggest weakness is that Scotty is a fixer. He wants to solve problems in whatever form they present themselves. When the doctors were stumped by what was keeping Angela so sick or unable to walk, Scotty was calling doctors or researching online or scheming with me on the phone to try to “get this thing figured out”. I’ll never forget seeing him on our London missions trip a few years back rubbing the back of a student that was in the throes of a nasty bout of motion sickness and even holding the bag for her. His favorite TV character is of course Jack Bauer of 24, a character that can single-handedly stop the world from being destroyed without ever having to use the bathroom or eat. When our church was seemingly headed in the wrong direction, it was Scotty who spoke truth and risked to try to “fix” the problems that it was headed for. The reason that it’s a weakness for him is that when he can’t fix it, it tears him up inside. From Angela’s health to board members that disagreed with him, when he couldn’t fix it – he felt weak and helpless.

If there is one thing that I’ve learned in being married and being in ministry, it is that God chooses the weak things to change the world. God chooses the weak things to confound and to frustrate the wise and strong things. When we are feeling most helpless and weak, God is now ready to work in us and through us. When we cannot possibly fix the pain, suffering, apathy, or mindset of someone it forces us to our knees. Desperate. Urgent. Weak. We limp to the cross – desperately carrying or attempting to carry our friend to our suffering savior. I picture the sight of Samm carrying Frodo up the side of the mountain tripping and falling and stumbling yet pushing.

Now my friend Scotty that has been the fixer and the source of so much strength and encouragement needs us to carry him to the feet of Jesus. All of us, in our brokenness and weakness have the chance to do for Scotty what he has done for us. To love him. To fight for him. To cry out to God for him and his family. To pray for Mary and Dan as they cling to Scotty and they cling to Jesus.

And we know God hears us when we cry out to him. We know that He draws near to those who draw near to Him. We know that He has a plan for Scotty. Already we can see it… Just a few days ago at Mayo Clinic, Scotty underwent surgery on the growth in his afflicted pancreas. It was a difficult surgery – but it was done with the skill and expertise of a medical miracle worker and surgical artisan. Hands that were guided by God himself.

Scotty is recovering now and as anyone familiar with this situation knows, recovery can be much more trying than the procedure itself. Mary has been by his side the entire time, sleeping on whatever furniture is in the room – she’d rather be uncomfortable and exhausted next to her lover than alone in a hotel room down the street.

I share this story with all of you because it’s not just Scotty’s story – it’s our story. We all have brokenness, all are wounded and suffering. The need for us to claim the words of Isaiah have never been truer – “By his stripes (wounds) we are healed.” I may not have cancer of the pancreas, but I have wounds that need healing. No one but Jesus can heal me. No one. I cry out to him now for Scotty, Mary, Dan, Angela, Jerry, Bekah, my dad, my sisters, myself, and for you… For Africa, Detroit, New Orleans, Iraq, Minnesota, and Darfur…

Jesus – please heal our brokenness… If you choose to heal others by breaking us, please bring your presence with the pain. Allow us to know your comfort and peace in the midst of the raging war. Pierce our hearts for those who are suffering with no hope. Shower them with love and comfort. Surround them with those who will mourn with them, cry with them, and bring them encouragement. Inspire them through your Word and the words of your saints. Remind us God that Jesus is alive, that death was defeated, the tomb is empty and He is seated at your right hand. Conjure in our hearts the sight of our loved ones that have passed on that are now worshipping you wholly and intimately in your presence. We long to join them, but for the sake of this world we will remain until you call us home. We love you Jesus.

I was once asked a question that went like this, “If you were given one day to do anything you wanted, for 24 hours, with no schedules or responsibilities or possibility of being contacted, what would you do?”

I thought about it for awhile… In fact, I think about it a lot… When I’m buried by the cares and troubles of life… When I find myself too busy during the day to enjoy it, and too tired at night to enjoy my time with my wife…

An entire day? Whatever I want?

My dream day is one that consists of trying to re-construct the events that have been the source of some of my best memories.

The day begins with me waking up early, not in an exhausted or forced or dutiful way, but in an excited, Christmas morning way. The anticipation of what this day will bring wakes me up refreshed and alert.

I wander into the bathroom to perform the cleansing rituals that I do daily for the good of mankind, and find the water temperature to be perfectly scalding for the entire session – no loss of pressure or temperature even though I take a really long shower.

I walk outside freshly clean and scrubbed and see a spread of my favorite breakfast delicacies – plump strawberries, perfectly ripe bananas, freshly washed green grapes, Panera Cinnamon Sugar Bagels, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs with chunky salsa, and a steaming cup of Starbucks finest.

The sounds of nature waking up with me fill the air with a symphonic beauty that provides a stirring soundtrack to my breakfast feast. Now my wife walks out to join me in the festival of taste… She is at once radiant and vulnerable, she sits down next to me and leans in for a snuggle and a kiss. She is pain free today, and we both scheme and dream about what this gift of a day will bring.

Our activities would bring me to the exhilarating edge of danger and risk, as I dive deep, drive fast, and swing far. In the midst of all of the heart pounding adventure, we find a hammock to take a sun drenched nap in…

Now we are joined by some of our closest friends and family to laugh and play in the yard – watching the little ones yell and run, and fall and cry, and chase bubbles through the fields… Now it’s off to the water… The lake is so calm that it appears frozen, so quiet that it almost dares us to noisily slice through it’s serenity… Hours are spent racing and trolling, tubing and swimming…

The grill is on now and the steaks are almost finished… The ladies are busy inside preparing the side dishes of garlic mashed potatoes, fresh corn on the cob, a grilled chicken Caesar salad, along with a REAL fruit salad, full of the best fruits and completely lacking the dominance of cheap melon. The guys are outside hovering over the grill, sharing life and salivating over its contents…

The meal is one of those rare instances where everything is delicious – taste complementing taste – a complex assortment of flavors that is satisfying even the most demanding and discerning palate. The conversation is as life-giving and stimulating as the food, with hearty laughter the dominant sound of our authentic exchanges about our journeys of faith and life.

Darkness has now cloaked the landscape, but the full moon is providing some accent lighting to the beauty of God’s creation. The smell of hot apple pie and espresso has wafted out to the deck where we are relaxed and unbuttoned.

An epic film has been chosen to finish out this wondrously refreshing day, and the home theater is now occupied with blankets and fresh coffees…

After hugs and goodbyes, we slide into our soft and inviting bed to rest our tired yet refreshed bodies after enjoying a Sabbath day to worship and to play, to rest and feast, to laugh and reflect.

That is my answer to the question… What does your day look like? Is it possible to fight for a day like this? Does that day sound refreshing? I realize that is my dream day, but weren’t there elements that could happen quite easily? Weren’t there parts that we could honestly practice? Conversation, food, film, friends, naps, worship… All part of the Sabbath experience – all vital to our very makeup by our Creator.

What is your Sabbath Dream?

Let me tell you a bit about my ‘booties’. My 100% Finish Grandmother or ‘Mumu’ (grandmother in Finish) made them for me before she passed away. You may laugh… but these lace-up booties are significant because I loved my grandmother, her stories, my heritage and the Finish Culture. She made these slippers in the style of my grandfather’s boxing shoes- he was the heavyweight-boxing champion of the Upper Peninsula in the 1940s. His name was Bruno- hence my middle name. That’s right- they’re Masculine Booties. And she made them blue and white, the Finish Colors!

There have been a select few who have seen these Finish heirlooms. Partially because if I wore them everyday they would fall apart sooner than I would like, but mostly because I wouldn’t throw pearls before pigs… they would not appreciate them, same with the delicate footwear.

Check out Matthew chapter 7 this week- the words of Christ are powerful.

Today marks the one month anniversary of our departure from our humble home in St. Paul, Minnesota where we had served for four years as the Pastor of Student Ministries at Bloomington Baptist Church to the Metro Detroit area. I remember the feelings and emotions that overwhelmed me as I drove away from our best friend’s home that chilly morning - feelings that were amped up by my insistence on playing a selection of break up songs on my iPod while I drove. Angela, my wife (look up for a visual cue) was driving behind me in our other car - so I had the Subaru to myself to weep and moan. It was a strange emotional journey to say the least… It began with some heavy sniffing and loud exhaling - then it transitioned to some head nodding and lip curling - which then led to the inevitable nose running and audible whimpering. I guess the rush of faces and experiences tied to the melodic strains of Fix You by Coldplay made for a combustible compound. I was at once humbled, relieved, saddened, angered, inspired, and regretful. I was battling the feelings like those at the end of Schindler’s List when Liam Neeson begins to desperately remove any personal items that he could have used to buy more Jewish lives - if only I had done more! If only I had made that one extra phone call - or asked that one extra question - or planned one more retreat - or confronted him - or loved more - or spent less on myself - or worshipped more passionately - or fought more bravely. “Tears stream, down your face - when you lose something you cannot replace…” Sniff…

But then something else rushed in - a new feeling… A feeling of joy and confidence - a feeling that God had done amazing and impossible things in the hearts and lives of those people. A smile crept across my tear stained cheeks - the deep pain of loss slowly was influenced by the purpose of our lives - to love God with all our hearts - and to love people. People - they will be the source of some of your greatest joys and profound woundings. To watch them learn and grow and fall and get up again - in a sense to love them with a parental love as you journey through life with them… Many times during these moments of heart piercing pain at love lost or left I have wondered if this business of loving people is really worth all the pain…

Simone Weil once said that the only things that pierce the human heart are beauty and affliction. I would rather live life and risk my heart being pierced by loving too much, than by protecting it from the joy and sorrow. The only way to have your heart truly pierced by beauty is to make it available to be crushed and hurt. Life is not an emotional buffet - you cannot choose what your heart receives - you have to take the good with the bad - the pain with the beauty.

So yes - i choose to love God and others with all I have - and when they are un-lovable, I will ask God for his supernatural love to fill me…

Now we are a month in - and I have already been overwhelmed with love from our new people… You… You have not held back…

I want to dive in deep - so far down that the water is dark and cold… I want to lead and love that far down - to the places in your heart that light has never been… To help introduce you to Jesus, the only one that can illuminate and heal those dark places… To follow him together as true disciples - imitating Jesus to the point where people will call us Christians.

The new chapter has begun - and many pages have already been written… I am practicing passionate patience with God as He leads our steps together… As we coauthor our next adventure - join us as we sail off the cliff into the mystical unknown of God’s plan and presence.

I’ll see you there…

Have you ever fallen asleep in church?

I remember countless times as a young tike, leaning over on my Dad or Mom and falling asleep on the pew. Well, tonight proved that I have not grown out of that stage of dozing off into the beautiful land of rest. Granted, I was not in a pew and my mother and father were nowhere to be found, I was caught sleeping. And by caught, I mean, right when I came back into the land of church attentiveness the pastor looked right at me and smirked… yep, I was caught. It’s also bad when your pastor is your boss as well- ouch. We live under the umbrella of grace, right?

Falling asleep in church as an adult is altogether different than my childhood memories. For some unknown reason, when one reaches adulthood, sleeping in church, class, or the workplace brings with it a shameful billboard: ‘the head-jerk into consciousness.’ This phrase, as you all know, refers to the huge sign to everyone in the room that ‘I Was Sleeping.’

Well Cliff, before I passed on to study my eyelids, I was really enjoying the challenge you presented in redefining the term ‘Christian.’ I will certainly tune in to the podcast this week to pick up what I missed.

Emotionally, physically, and academically this week has been trying. Car problems, emotional ‘highs’, speaking responsibilities, major reading for school… I know you all can relate, because we all have weeks like this from time to time.

If you are ever near me in a service and you see me ready to go to the land of slumber, you have my permission to nudge me.