I think I’ve forgotten how to play.

I’m reading an amazing book by Mark Buchanan right now, called The Rest of God. It is dealing with the wildly misunderstood concept of Sabbath. I just finished a chapter on play, some could even call it a Theology of Play. In it, he explained how as adults, we have forgotten what it means to lose track of time and just play, for the sake of playing. Instead, we have become slaves to the clock and have stopped playing and instead choose to sit and stare at others playing.

The irony is that the best memories of our lives are when we are playing. The risks we took, the exhilaration we felt, the laughter, the feeling of being alive. The crazy thing is, that I don’t make time to play. Not that we should “schedule” it in, like a golf lesson, but that we just take our watches and toss them on our nightstand, grab friends and loved ones and just go have an adventure.

My mind is instantly drawn to moments of extreme danger and risk, followed by laughter and the feeling that every last muscle and cell is dancing with you. A smile covers my face as I think of the first time I ever went 4 wheeling. It was a couple of years ago with Dan Syde down at their property that exists for one reason, to play. We hopped on these crazy, huge, hulking machines, and after a few brief instructions (here’s the gas, here’s the brake - see you in the stream!) I was off to the races. Something inside of me, someone else I think, took over and I wasn’t, you know, getting the feel of the ATV, I was gunning it. I was flying all over the place, going as fast as I could, then hitting the brakes and turning hard so I could have that Dukes of Hazzard moment. Then I saw some hills in the landscape and starting to climb, and drop and swerve. My wrists were getting sore - but I didn’t care. I was grinning like a grandpa watching toddlers play on Christmas morning. My eyes were wide open, with wind caused tears streaming down my cheeks. And then I was something out of the corner of my eye - a strange mass of land jutting out of the center of the ravine. Could it be? A JUMP???? At first I went over it cautiously, just to make sure that I wouldn’t hit the base of the jump and be thrown into the distance while the ATV sat chuckling at me. It seemed safe, sort of. I hit it a little faster, and felt a little air beneath my tires. HECK YES! Before long, I was starting as far back as I could and going as fast as it would carry me… Launching high and far into the air and landing with a resounding thud, now my whole body is feeling out of whack, but still the adrenal glands were serving as my motivation and anesthesia. Then up the hills, racing as fast as I could through the orchard, up on two wheels - giggling like a little school girl. Even the moment of near tragedy, when I gunned it going down the hill and lost control - slammed head-on into a tree and flew 20 feet into the forest hitting my head on a few saplings, even that moment couldn’t dampen my joy. Although when I rolled the ATV 5 minutes later, I figured maybe it was time to get some lunch.

My heart races back into memories of falling off a horse on ranch in Colorado, going cliff jumping in the Adirondacks with college buddies, jumping on trampolines, swinging on a trapeze that dropped me into a huge lake, playing war with bottlerockets at my friend Chris’ house, playing wiffle ball in my back yard, leading dorm raids in college (then refusing to serve my sentence), and snowmobiling with Angela on a surprise Valentines getaway.

All of these were times that time seemed to be inconsequential - in fact - when I was on my wilderness trip of ‘01, we had a day all to ourselves, a solo day. I had no watch and never was a boy scout, so I had no way of telling time. At some point during the afternoon, after spending time journaling and singing and fighting off a swarm of angry ladybugs (long story), I sat down and leaned back against two huge pine trees that were so close that I could rest against both of them at the same time, sort of like mission style furniture. Well - I fell asleep and when I woke up, I had no idea how long I had been asleep. I still couldn’t see the sun being that I was deep in the forest - so that didn’t help me. I knew it had to be for a while based on my sore throat (huge snorer) and stiff neck, but I was totally at a loss for how much time had passed. It was at first unsettling and a little scary - was it 15 minutes or 3 hours? I checked my facial hair to see if it was even the same day, yup, same patchy stubble. After my initial confusion passed, I started to realize how refreshing it was to have it NOT MATTER. It honestly didn’t matter, I hadn’t slept through class, I wasn’t running late to work, or missing a key episode of 24… My day was all about enjoyment and resting. A sabbath.

Our hearts desperately need that - a time to play and rest. A time to laugh and dance and sing and not care. A time to feast and burp and show our bellies to the sun. Nowhere to be. No way to be reached. This is what we have been created for - in fact we are commanded to take this time. I know the battle you fight - I fight it too… “But I have to get this done, and it’s our only day to do that!!” The guilt arrives quickly and deeply - screaming infidelities in our ears. What would our lives look like if we fought for time to do nothing - to get away, even if it is just to your back yard - to take the cell phone and stick it underneath your sweaters in the bottom drawer.

It is in this joyful freedom that we most connect to the heart of God. We can hear Him when He speaks, follow when He leads, laugh when he jokes, and snuggle when He’s close.

A Sabbath to Remember

Ahhh…

What a day!

We slept in ’til past 11am. I was awakened with the aroma of bacon and eggs - soon accompanied by a steaming mug of Starbucks finest coffee, their Black Apron Exclusive Rwandan Blue Bourbon (thanks Abby). I finished things off with a large bowl overflowing with fresh green grapes, so juicy and ripe that I had to keep wiping my face off after each bite.

After a breakfast spent talking about what we were NOT going to do today, the conversation shifted to the future… But this time, as opposed to other times more recently, I felt a stronger sense of hope and excitement about the steps we are taking towards co-authoring the next chapter of our lives.

I didn’t shower, and I didn’t care.

We grabbed some blankets, pillows, drinks, and great books as we sprawled out in the backyard on our suddenly green lawn.
The sun showed up for work today with a wink and a smile, and the breeze fanned us when a drop of perspiration appeared. I read more about rest and play and sabbath… Today I read about Restoration and Healing, and also about Feasting. I was strongly impressed and stirred by the stories of Jesus healing on the Sabbath. Now I had always been taught that it was to teach a lesson to the Pharisees, and to us, about grace versus the law. But today I was challenged by the statement, “Jesus’ favorite day to heal and restore was on the Sabbath. He deemed that day most appropriate.”

We all have wounds, all of us are broken. If anyone claims otherwise, then he is lying to himself and the chasm between his head and his heart is very wide indeed. The thing is - busyness keeps us from dealing with the quiet things, the hidden things, the wounded places of our hearts. Those wounds get covered up by work, or soccer practice, or food, or media, or simply overbooking ourselves. One thing I have found is that those who CHOOSE to be overly busy - seem to have the most profound woundings. Anyway, the heart needs our attention, our focus, most importantly our TIME in order for our wounds to be dressed, treated, and eventually healed. Sabbath is that day. Not vacation. Not sabbatical. Sabbath - a day, once per week as planned by God himself, that is held in highest honor and importance for our bodies, minds, and hearts to rest. To play. To be. To heal.

After a long time in the sun, the results of which have colored my face and arms red, Ange wanted to mow the lawn. Now to some - that seems like work - but to my wife, it is an absolute relaxing joy. Part of that joy is due to the fact that we own a fabulous John Deere riding mower, and normally I fight for the right to mow, but today I could see in her eyes that she realllllly wanted to.

Have you ever done work that didn’t feel like - well, WORK?

That was today for us… While Ange mowed with a big silly grin on her face - I went into our almost finished dream basement, plugged in my ipod to some speakers, and had a painting party. I sang along to some of my favorite tunes, harmonizing at the top of my lungs along with the likes of James Blunt, Sufjan Stevens, Bloc Party, and of course, the Modern Skirts. I danced a little, when no one was looking, and oh yeah - painted all the boards.

It was a day of relaxation, rest, love, music, food, great conversation, and accomplishment…

And now my lover beckons me to snuggle as we fade into midnight…

Thank you God for the Sabbath… I feasted on your gifts today.

I am sitting on the 38th floor of my hotel on Michigan Avenue, Magnificent Mile, out looking the beautiful city and mulling over all that happened yesterday. Yes- I popped the Question to my beautiful girlfriend! It all started in Chicago, so I thought it appropriate to continue the Chicago milestones.

Three years ago in May, I drove out here where Adrienne attends Moody Bible Institute to spend a few days with my cousin Ryan who attended Illinois Institute of Technology. That’s what I told her, but we all know I was there to spend time with her. So at the end of my three-day visit, I asked her to consider dating me. Soon after, she came home to Rochester for the summer and we began our dating relationship.

We can take Zero credit for our relationship. God brought us together through ministry. Back before we dated, I was very involved with the Middle School ministry at Woodside and soon after, she became a leader as well. As time went by, I would ask her to help out with other random projects I was working on throughout the church: Missions Conferences, Christmas sets, etc. Ministry is such a great way to see someone’s heart. At the time I was pursuing my Architecture degree and I knew ministry was a passion but I never knew God would redirect my path into full time, vocational ministry. So, Adrienne has been with me throughout the past three interesting years where we watched and experienced God change us, preparing us for a life together serving Him!

Sentimental Details of ‘the day’:
On Thursday, March 8th, I flew to Chicago in the morning. Adrienne had no idea that I was on my way; it was a complete surprise. I arrived in the afternoon because I had details to work out before 5pm when all the fun began.

Have you seen the movie Elizabethtown? Well, in this rather contemplative movie, Kirsten Dunsts’ character sends Orlando Blooms’ character on a road trip by himself to ‘get into the deep beautiful melancholy of all that has happened.’ This trip was complete with maps, music, and emotion. This movie happens to be a favorite of Adrienne’s, so I set up a similar setting.

I surprised her at work and presented her with a book and music to start the journey, and then she was relieved early from her job to follow the map. When she saw me, I think the exact words were, “I’m so confused”. After all, what I doing there- I live in Troy. I kissed her and told her I would see her later. The next two hours were filled with visits to memorable spots, pictures, short stories, all building up to the end where we met in front of Mies Van der Rohe’s Lake Shore Drive apartments on Lake Michigan (this spot holds significance). Also, one of my favorite Architects! It was here where I asked her the big question: ‘where do you want to eat dinner’ –just kidding. You all know what I asked. (She said yes)

All of the events are still sinking in…
We are thrilled for the future and beautiful Adventure together with our Savior-

I told my story again the other day. It was at around 8:45 am this past Tuesday, and it was during staff meeting (which is cruelly scheduled for 8 am every week)… I made sure I was highly caffeinated before I began to recount the events of my life during these past 31 years – in fact, it has technically been “my turn” to share my story since mid December, so every Tuesday for the last 2 months I have been collecting my thoughts during the meeting, only to be told that unless I can squeeze 30 years into 10 minutes, I’d have to wait til next week. I was supposed to tell my story when I was still 30, but it ended up being after my 31st birthday.

Telling your story is not an easy task… Most people end up chronicling their life year by year, you know, by saying things like “in first grade, not much happened”, “in third grade, we moved to Peoria to help out my grandmother”, “in fifth grade I won first place at Track and Field Day for my elementary school” (ok, that one is me). It’s pretty funny actually, watching people tell their stories – it is almost as if they have never stopped to think about where they have been or what they’ve done. The one constant in all of these stories is that they hit on the highs and lows – the beauty and the pain. The trophies and the tourniquets.

The one thing that I noticed as I have told my story recently, is that I have left out one really significant detail from the last year of my life. I don’t know why I keep forgetting it – I just get done with the story, exhale, sip some brown holy nectar (coffee for those unaddicted/unenlightened), and then quietly feel that really scary sensation that I have forgotten something very important. No – I didn’t forget to mention that I was the worst behaved student in Mrs. Widmeyer’s 27 years of public school kindergarten teaching. It seemed major, like realizing you have completely missed an early morning meeting that you scheduled at Starbucks… Or like the time that you HAD to wake up at 6am to finish (or start and finish) studying for that huge test that will make or break your final grade, only to roll over and glance at a clock that reads 1:13pm. Scary. But this seemed bigger than forgetting to mention my lead role in the stellar stage adaptation of Good King Wenceslas at the tender age of 9 to rave reviews from the packed house on Christmas Sunday in 1985. No – this is bigger. Then it hit me like a shower at a Christian summer camp. My mom died.

Last night we talked about formulas*, or at least how we have relegated much of the gospel of Jesus and the Bible to a list of how to’s or do not’s… We have been able to pick out three steps to just about anything through very complex teachings and stories. This common practice has led us to simplify and perhaps even neuter or ignore or just plain butcher some of the most mysterious and beautiful words of Jesus. Or we have trivialized and sermonized brutal executions and beatings into inspiring talks on perseverance when someone giggles at your Christian t-shirt. I have to admit, as someone who attempts to communicate the truth of the Bible to fairly large crowds on a regular basis, I have fallen prey to this habit. I have packaged supernatural and mystical events in a self-help pep talk that would make Dr. Phil flash a smile so broad that his zoom whitened teeth would temporarily blind any studio audience.

In my quest for the elusive spiritual equivalent of the Pythagorean theorem, I have even taken major life events that have fifty supernatural and unnatural steps and relegated them to a procedure that can put anyone on a pathway to finding the purpose of their lives and losing 40 pounds in the process!

When I share the story of the last year, it is so full of betrayal, depression, doubt, debt, loss, grief, tears, joy, weight loss, weight gain, friends lost, and hearts broken that I cannot fit those parts of the story into my inspirational talk that I’m giving at 3am on BET. You see, I have called 2006: What Do You Do When God Is Silent? 3 Steps to Living Your Dreams. My main points are DECIDE WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN CREATED TO DO, then DECIDE WHAT YOU NEED TO DO NOW TO GET THERE, then TAKE DRASTIC ACTION TO MAKE IT HAPPEN! Can’t you see this on the NY Times best seller list with a picture of me on the cover with eyebrows raised and my arms out in a sort of shrug that encourages everyone that it’s so simple to be like me (now plop down 21.95 for the hardcover please).

I leave out the story of my mom’s death while I was holding her hand at her bedside following her four plus year battle with brain and lung cancer because it doesn’t fit the formula. I have taken a painful and mystical journey of pain and intimacy and reduced it to easy to follow steps. I have taken out the spirituality and unknown, and replaced it with the idea that it was a simple path that anyone can take. Having a best friend tell you that he’s “stabbed you in the back” doesn’t fit… Having a group of friends that you have dreamed with for years abandon you and then apologize a year later doesn’t fit… Avoiding calls and watching movies and living lives of isolation doesn’t fit… Taking a break from church because of huge pain and burnout doesn’t fit… Sobbing in an emergency room parking lot because of horrifying news about your wife’s health doesn’t fit… Feeling your heart for God and others shriveling because of neglect doesn’t fit… Telling your sister that her mom just died while she was watching a movie 50 feet away doesn’t fit… Being treated like a lower class citizen by rude consumers pondering whether to upgrade their speakers or not doesn’t fit…

Ironically enough, the very words that we attempt to simplify and formulate are the words that contain these types of stories… We have turned David (rightfully called a man after God’s own heart) into a brave warrior poet king, turning his one “indiscretion” into a message about the dangers of porn. We take Abraham’s faith and leadership, yet we downplay his cowardice and his prostituting of his own wife. We want simple answers and simple stories. The problem is that the Bible is very much like real life – complex and deeply flawed people making huge mistakes, yet finding redemption and rescue through the grace and love of God.

The stories that we find in the Bible should serve as inspiration for those of us that see our faith as a journey with ups and downs, sin and salvation, bravery and cowardice… God is shown in the Bible as being a warrior that will wipe out an entire city, women and children included, but also as a loving Father racing out to meet his prodigal son. Can I be a pastor who has experienced a journey that is at once inspirational and depressing? Can I be a man who has great strengths and weaknesses? Can I have as many questions as I do answers?

Losing my mom last year was one of the hardest things that I’ve ever had to experience in my life. I still have dreams where she is there and my whole family is together, arguing and laughing, but even while I’m dreaming I realize that she’s really gone. I believe she is in the presence of Jesus, her deepest desire and friend. I am a member of a club that no one wants to be a part of – losing a parent to cancer way too early. I know that I have been able to relate to those in this club and maybe speak words or prayers that encourage and empathize – and I recognize something in their eyes. I see it in myself sometimes – this feeling that you have experienced a deep loss that you will never truly get over.

My recent epiphany about the God that doesn’t obey the formulas that we have forced on Him has increased my love and affection and desire to draw closer to Him. I want to know Him more now – I want to race into His arms when I have fallen and gotten wounded. I want to want what he wants. I want to dive deeper into His word than others have. I want to swim so far down that the water is getting colder and colder as I encounter undiscovered treasures. I don’t want to just accept the popular understandings or interpretations or formulas – I want to journey further, study harder, and say the truth no matter how hard it is to hear or what the ramifications may be.

Hello all. Introductions are not really my specialty. Most of my friends call me Fritts, but I always feel I should introduce myself with my first name, Eric. This has honestly led many a times to me sounding like a complete idiot meeting people a la “Bond, James Bond”. Well, I’m not that cool and I often feel strange meeting people in that fashion, but my name is Fritts…Eric Fritts.

I’ve been at Woodside my entire life, since the days of Troy Baptist. I remember Pastor Anderson and when Pastor Doug came into the church. In fact, I was best friends with Andy Schmidt all through high school. I graduated from Troy High in 1998…do the math people, and then graduated from Alma College in ’02. I’ve been playing guitar for about 12 years now and have sung for even longer, and after years of volunteer service at Woodside was offered the position of Student and Young Adult Ministries Worship Director. I’ve been working with the Kids For Christ Choir since ’03 and Oasis (middle school) since ’04. Now, I have the privilege of also leading worship for The Awakening and Lighthouse.

Out of college I worked for Chrysler as a bill collector for almost two years. Wow! What a fabulous job that was (sarcasm invoked). But following that wonderful position I went back to school in an attempt to become a teacher. Guess what? I didn’t finish. Well, I just kind of stopped after getting a couple gigs as a musician. I was soon teaching guitar, playing restaurants, and back living with my parents. Woo hoo! But it did happen to allow me to lead worship for Camp Woodside and subsequently Oasis.

In particular, it’s great to work with people my own age at Lighthouse. It’s really an amazing collection of great guys and girls from all walks of life that I’m so grateful to be part of. I’ve been truly blessed and am excited for the work that is God is going to do for the youth and young adults of metro-Detroit.

In this, my first and only blog, I look to inform anyone who’s interested about music, news, facts, truths, sports, and life from Fritts’s perspective. Here are some quickies; Check out the Sam Roberts Band, up for Spin Magazine’s artist of the year. Democratic presidential candidates are seeking to attract the African American and religious swing voters, quoting Bible verses and focusing on inner-city policies. Cats sleep 16 to 18 hours per day. The Neanderthals brain was bigger than yours is. The Pistons and Red Wings are going to make this spring exciting…as well as the Tigers. And finally, I absolutely cannot wait for summer nights, driving with my windows down, and bar-b-cues. March needs to drive out the winter and usher in warm enough weather for us to open up pools by April. Then, and only then, will I be reminded that’s it’s not that bad living in Michigan. But until that day, I will be hibernating in hooded sweatshirts and wool socks curled up in a ball by a fireplace and writing this blog while watching CSPAN and listening to any new music I can get my hands on. Talk to you soon.