Have you ever had your heart break for something or someone? Maybe it was losing someone you loved so deeply or finding out that the door closed on a job you desired to have. Does your heart break on a regular basis for the people around you or just when something bad happens to you? Murders, divorce, sickness, poverty- are these issues that make your heart break?

Tingly legs and heavy eyes made the 18-hour flight to South Africa one that seemed to be never ending. Not sensing the call of God strongly in my life until then, I had made the split decision months before to take a trip to a faraway land filled with people that I would call my little angels four weeks later.

Issues that we see on the news each day are minor in comparison to the developing ailments that take lives of the beautiful African people everyday. Darkness, sickness, death, sunken faces, hunched backs, infected urine, foaming mouths, broken hearts, a desire to live, a sentence to die, silenced lips, rape– these are only a few characteristics of AIDS. Children are often infected at birth or left as orphans, removing their purity and creating a “lost” generation.

We had one week of training that was supposed to educate and prepare us for what we would see and experience, but I don’t believe there is any amount of preparation that can stop anyone’s heart from breaking for these people. I was able to look into the eyes of girls that had been raped by boyfriends, dads and strangers- rapes that had taken place even as young children. I saw the fear that resided in them.

I was placed in two schools with a curriculum that went through a week-long program on abstinence. It focused not only on saving themselves from AIDS, but also on saving themselves for marriage. Many of these girls laughed in our faces. “Why wouldn’t we sleep with our boyfriends, if we love them”, they would repeatedly say. Or, “I’m already not clean. My male teacher raped me when I was in grade one, and now I have AIDS.”

The timing of God is incredible. I was broken and searching in my own life for a love that was unconditional. I was looking for some integrity, some self-confidence and joy. One of the last days I was in my classroom, I was able to share my broken-hearted story with about ten African girls. I told them about my fatherless childhood, being taken advantage of at a young age, growing up to find that I was falling into all the temptations that the world had to offer without an ounce of integrity to say ‘I’m better then it all’. I allowed myself to be treated badly by guys, everyday slumping deeper and deeper into a hole of despair. As I opened my heart, tears began to fall from all of our weary eyes. We each realized that we were experiencing the same struggles and for once we didn’t feel alone.

I was able to share with these girls the joy of the Lord. Even though I didn’t have it all together at this point, and I too was searching, I knew deep down that the love of the Lord was real. I was able to share and begin to find healing along with these girls as all of us began to see that even though we may not have had dads in our lives and have experienced great pain repeatedly, the Lord can fill the voids and hurts of our hearts. He is the One that helps us to have true God-given integrity and to be mighty women of God.

Many of you may know if you have talked to me for more then a few minutes that I have a compassion for Africa that burns in me daily. I love the culture, the beautiful smiling faces of the African people, their courage and strength in the midst of poverty and death, but most of all their hearts. Just as I was helping to teach girls of all ages to make a decision to stay pure, no matter where they have been or what they have been through, they ministered to me in this same way.

My heart broke for these people. But in the breaking of my own heart, the Lord was able to do some housekeeping in my own life as well. My heart will be forever formed into the shape of Africa.

On vacation last year, I spent a week at a resort along the coast of Oregon in a relatively small town called Newport. It was a solo trip meant for the purpose of becoming physically, emotionally, and most importantly- spiritually refreshed. Prior to my trip I was completely bogged down from the pressures of work and too many commitments, and I was drained. My relationship with God was suffering and I knew that I needed to get away from my routine, to explore areas of God’s creation, and most importantly- to have a lot of “me and God” time so that I could become refreshed and renewed spiritually.

Once arriving in Oregon, I began to plan out my week, filling it up with plans to drive up and down the coast, hikes in the national forests, and visits to all of the local “touristy” spots. Each day I found myself to be completely exhausted once arriving back at the resort after packing that day full of activities. On the fifth day however, I had such a relaxing day. I didn’t drive all over the state of Oregon, but stayed right in Newport- meandering the streets of Historic Nye Beach and looking in all the little shops while sipping my chai latte, squeezing my way around the crowds of people at the Oregon Coast Aquarium, browsing in the little shops along Newport’s Historic Bayfront, and having a nice dinner at the Embarcadero restaurant while looking out over the port docks. I felt a certain peace throughout the day. I really had no agenda and therefore had no reason to constantly be checking my watch to make sure I accomplished every task that was on my list for that day. It was then that I began to notice that despite being on vacation to relax and recover from my packed weekly routine, I was having a hard time relaxing and seemed to push myself to always be on the go. The devil was using sly tactics such as, “You only have a week here, and you better make good use of it and see all that you can see.” The devil was saying things like this to me in order to limit my time with God. However, God was using this trip to teach me to more effectively “stop and smell the roses.”

There are times when I think I am stopping to smell the roses and yet I walk away having no recollection of the scent. It’s like someone asking you, “How are you doing?” while they continue to walk past. You could be having one of the worst days of your life and no one would ever know because they didn’t wait for your answer. How would it be if God gave us that kind of time? You go to Him in prayer and after the first sentence or two as you begin to pour your heart out, God yawns and turns away. Wow…how would you feel? I know I would feel rejected, unloved, and unimportant. Maybe God feels that way towards us at times. God is pouring His heart out to us through His creation, through the opportunities and experiences He provides, through His faithfulness and love. However, as He is pouring out His heart to us we become bored and yawn at yet another sunset, another spring rain, another squirrel scampering off, and another child being born. Does God feel rejected and unloved when we respond in this way? May we never grow weary of His magnificent creation, never weary of His faithfulness, and never weary of His love. Next time, let’s stop to smell the roses- and I don’t mean to just smell them as you continue on your way, but to stop and linger- take in the scent, the color, the texture, and listen to what God may be whispering in your ear.

My wife and I were at Starbucks a few days ago. We saw a young couple talking to an older man, and it appeared to us that they may be newly engaged. We assumed that they were doing marital counseling with a volunteer from their church, and based on the smiles that were etched on their faces, I’m sure they were very much in love. As we had our drinks Angela asked me what advice I would give them if I was doing the counseling.

The first thing that jumped into my mind was this: “Embrace the inevitable molding that is about to take place. Learn to be patient; don’t fight it.” The ironic thing is that Angela’s advice might have been the same thing! I look at our marriage and often times pat myself on the back for being so patient while she shops, gets ready to go out, or socializes after group events. But then I forget how patient she has become when I leave crumbs on the counter, leave toothpaste residue in the sink, leave dirty fingerprints on the microwave, or leave food drippings on the stove top. The thing is, after 4 years of marriage I can kind of laugh at the things that used to get me fired up. Hopefully, she can too.

The truth is, the sooner I learned that getting things my way is highly over-rated, the more patient I became, and the better our relationship has been as a result. Marriage has shown me two things about myself. First, I’m not as great as I once thought I was. And second, I’m not as patient as I need to be. But, looking at those two points, pride and selfishness (i.e. wanting things my way), I realized that all humans struggle with them. Maybe I’m more normal than I thought.

What better way to grow closer to God than through marriage! Marriage, over time, reveals who I am, both to myself and to my wife. It gives another person an honest glimpse into who I am on the inside. Instead of viewing things the same way as I always have for the rest of my life, marriage gives me an excuse to change for the better.

And I’ll add this- willingness to change for Angela’s sake encourages me more than anything. If I’m willing to change for her, I’ll definitely be willing to change for God. Willingness to change for the better is a sign of humility. I never worry for a second if my wife is “walking all over me” (which she doesn’t). Ultimately, I’d rather grow in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control than have things my way.

Lying in bed, I desperately wanted to dream. I was sweating; my stomach was turning; my head was pounding. The first thing I tend to do, along with many others I’m sure, is quickly reach for the first bottle of medicine that is in reach. The Advil, or whichever medicine I chose to take during these moments of agony, instantly becomes my best friend as it quickly begins to absorb throughout my blood. Sound familiar? For me this is a common experience that I have dealt with on several accounts.

When I was twelve years old, I went skiing with my dad at Mt. Holly for the first time. As I grabbed onto the brown rope with my skis parallel beneath me, I felt confident that I could make it down the bunny hill. I actually felt extremely childish as I watched the small children ski down the hill beside me. Therefore, moments later I was at the top of an even larger hill. I began to slide down this large mound of white snow in all of my glory, but before I knew it I saw a snowboarder coming at me with no intention to slow down. BOOM!! My neck snapped backwards, and I was lying on my back paralyzed with pain. Nonetheless, I made it down with a little help; however, this was only the beginning of a lot pain for me.

For 11 years now, I have struggled with the pain of migraines. Some days, I found myself taking 2000 milligrams in pain medications just to relieve the pain until the next day when the migraines would commonly start all over again. It wasn’t until a few years after the accident that I paid a visit to a chiropractor, who showed me that I had acquired scoliosis in my neck and back from the accident. I had finally found the root of the problem. For months and years afterward, I found myself in this same office getting adjusted.

Have you ever had an experience like this one? It comes at us out of nowhere– you were an innocent child or teenager, just trying to get down the slopes of life. Then, someone comes at you and knocks you on your back, causing you pain that was indescribable. And after the accident, like me, you try to ignore the pain, by taking pills to maintain it, never finding the true reason why you are feeling the way that you do. If the answer is yes, then I’m glad someone can relate with me.

A few months ago, Cliff spoke on the life of Joseph. I don’t know about you, but this was a message that hit dead center in the bull’s eye of my heart. I have experienced a lot of hurt in my life. On many occasions I can relate with Joseph, because in my short life, I have been mistreated and abused by individuals that were the closest to me. In the rulebooks, these people should have been the most loving.

Until a few years ago, I tried extremely hard to make it day to day while constantly holding the 2000 milligrams of Advil in my hand. If someone hurt or disappointed me, I would instantly “pop the pills” and move on with life. I didn’t want to deal with the hurt. What I failed to realize was that if I never dealt with the hurt and began to find healing, I would never experience relief.

Slowly, as my chiropractor helped my body experience relief from the constant pain in my back, God removed my scared heart, placed it into his hands, and began to do surgery on the wounds– but only when I allowed him to do so. You see, if you don’t go to the doctor when you are experiencing pain, it will most likely only get worse. Just alike, when you don’t allow Jesus to be the healer of your wounds, you will continually feel pain. It’s as simple as that.

Allow Jesus to be the relief giver in your life. Instead of running to all the pain relievers that life has to offer (friends, work, church, sports, family, etc.), run to the one that will not only temporarily relive the pain, but also begin to make it disappear forever. I’m warning you; this may hurt at first. Digging deep into a wound that has been closed for a long time can be very painful. You have to let God reveal the root of the pain before you can cure the systems. Trust me, some of my wounds are 18 years old; it has been a difficult journey. But it was an amazing experience to let the Lord begin running an IV to all of my wounds.

Put your grubby clothes on and get ready to dig. I was extremely weak when I began digging with God, and without God’s strength I am still weak. Let Jesus become your strength. He loves those that are humble enough to admit that they need his help. Find Freedom in him, and do not be burdened by the slavery of pain anymore. Run to him in the middle of the night. Let him become your best friend and your helping hand through all the hurts that life has to offer. Don’t be afraid! You are only going to find freedom in the end.

I Promise!!

My buddy Jimmy the Tulip brought up a good point the other night at small group. “I like to be a servant on my own terms. I like being looked at like a servant or a slave [when people are looking at my lifestyle], but I don’t like being treated like a slave.” That’s the best way to explain my life too. Sometimes we are prideful in ways we don’t even understand. I had been explaining to Tulip and my other friend B-Boo that I need to work on being less prideful when Tulip spoke those words of truth. It’s so easy for me to clean toilets and help out at work when I feel like being a servant or a slave… but when my boss tells me to go take over the harder part of work (so he can sit and relax) I feel frustrated. I get defensive because of my pride. Pride can be as surprising and as violent as the tide.

We had been talking about taking a vacation: travel vouchers and public transportation schedules, skyscrapers and Chinatown, museums, ice-skating, a trip through the city during late winter.

Then, attentions shifted.

At first there was only breath—a small wisp hovering just above the ground, vapors expanding and retracting with each hesitant inhalation. The movement, a whisper of recognition, was unsteady and shallow. Dusk settled over the highway, lights flickering on slowly. Cars inched past on either side, the rubber of the tires trailing after the sirens.

The man lay immobilized on a stretcher in the middle of a busy cross street, cops diverting traffic on either side. Empty stare, ashen face, thin gray lips. The responsible party (another man, mid-fifties, stocky with bushy eyebrows and a slight paunch) stood off to the side, answering questions from an officer. Flares marked the median, as candles lined the aisles of a cathedral.

Denise turned to me, her checks sallow and eyes wide, her words stopping mid-sentence. My hands gripped the steering wheel, uncommonly translucent. All I could focus on was that shallow breath, drifting away on the still night air. We didn’t have time to reflect, my foot easing off the brake as the cars moved forward at a more steady pace.

The doors of the ambulance swung shut and drove off.

It doesn’t always take moments like this to remind us of the frailty of life. Disappointments, fractured relationships, emotional barriers, and apathy- we live in the daily reality of a broken world. But we have hope for the future in the only living God. Psalm 34:18 states that “the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” It’s encouraging to know that our Lord draws near in times of spiritual and emotional bankruptcy. Not only that, but that He promises to heal us from the inside out, to bring us back to life when there doesn’t seem to be any hope of a recovery.

There are those experiences that shock us into change, into living again: car accidents and heart-breaking failures that drive us to achieve something more. But there are also those other moments, those that magnify God’s still, quiet voice. How strange to me that such an awesome, powerful God speaks in whispers! Sometimes I can hear it before I go to sleep at night. And all I can think is, “Thank you.”

My wife and I have a history of mouse stories. The first story takes place when we were both still students at Michigan State. Angela and her two roommates had to deal with a mouse situation in their apartment. They named the mouse “Mortimer” (no reason- it just must have sounded like a good mouse name) and then essentially ran away and screamed whenever he poked his little head around anywhere near them. Eventually, the mouse showed his face when all three girls were in the apartment together. Individually they probably would have continued doing nothing, but collectively, they must have found courage to take on their little mouse problem. To make a long story short, they captured Mortimer in a bowl and somehow worked together to transfer him to a pot. From there they filled the pot with water and basically created Mouse soup. Ask Angela about it, and make sure you ask her to imitate Mortimer in the pot.

The mouse problem seemed to follow Angela as we moved into our first house together. After being in the house for a little less than a year, random pieces of what looked like black rice started to appear in the TV room. Of course, I was completely oblivious to the mounting pile of “black rice”. Ironically, they appeared in the same room where I do my push-ups in the morning. If anyone SHOULD HAVE noticed, it should’ve been me, but again, I’m not the most observant person you’ll ever meet. So basically after weeks of doing push-ups in the middle of mouse dung, my wife notices and says, “Joe, I think we have a mouse”. She points to the tiny pieces of you-know-what and tells me what she thinks they are. Of course in typical Kalczynski fashion I go into denial mode. “No…I don’t think it’s that,…it’ll be fine….it’s no big deal…etc.”

So after my wife convinces me that we need to take care of the problem, I reluctantly go to the store thinking about the exorbitant cost of catching this mouse. I start imagining the book I’m going to have to buy which will tell me where to put the traps, the magical mouse food that will attract them to the trap, the huge cost of actually buying mouse traps, and everything else my wife is going to want to buy. When we get to Meijer, I realize that the whole process is actually a lot simpler than I was thinking. We bought 4 traps for $2.08!! Hey, that’s not too expensive!! Apparently peanut butter works as good bait, and there was no book to tell me how to position the traps, just the cashier who told us, “Put the traps where you think the mouse has been”. BRILLIANT!! I already KNOW the mouse has been in the TV room because I’ve been doing push-ups for 2 weeks in the middle of his poop.

So we get home, set the traps, and sure enough 2 days later, we have a dead mouse compliments of the $0.52 mouse trap I purchased from Meijer. I’m not going to lie- it was a pretty happy day for me. I protected my house like a good husband should. I had visions of the Under-Armor Commercial: “We must protect this house!!” Plus I learned that mouse control is actually pretty cheap. And, finding a dead mouse in a trap that I set is sort of like a sick & twisted birthday present.

Each year at about the same time, we have had a mouse or mice in the house that needed to be taken care of. So for the past 3 years I’ve protected my house from those darn field mice that invade us so regularly. Last night, instead of the “black rice” on the carpet, my wife actually saw the mouse itself as she was talking on the phone to her grandmother. Before she could even finish the phone conversation, I asked her “Do you want me to go to Meijer?” with a big smile on my face.

As I set the traps this year, I thought about how God can be found in mouse traps. It got me to thinking, all the mice that I’ve killed the last three years (5), had no idea that they were going to die before they snuck up on the peanut butter. One day they’re happily living as guests in our house, and the next day they have a metal bar crashing through their neck. And so I thought, instead of killing the mouse this one time, why not catch the mouse, keep it as a pet, and show the mouse some grace. God shows us grace by giving us salvation even though we’ve done nothing to deserve it. Why not show grace toward this new mouse in our house? That way, we could name the mouse “Grace”, and then take care of it even though it deserved death, just like we do. Every time we looked at “Grace”, we’d be reminded of the central message of the Bible, and that would be a good thing.

So last night, after I have this vision of what we can do for the new mouse in our house, I run the plan by my lovely wife of four years (the kindest, most caring person I know, or have ever met). I explain to her “Grace”, is what we can call the mouse, and we’ll be demonstrating God’s love as a reminder of what He has done for us. She says to me, and I quote, “Umm, NO!!…We have guests coming over tomorrow”.

So there you have it. Welcome to my world. I’ll keep everyone informed of when and how many mice we get this year. My grace towards the mouse will have to wait. Maybe next year. I’m glad our Father in Heaven isn’t as easily persuaded as I was to withhold grace.

“What is Mae?” has been a question posed to the group since the beginning of their musical endeavors. Technically speaking Mae refers to a “multisensory aesthetic experience”, a phrase coined by drummer Jacob Marshall while studying music at Old Dominion University. In layman’s terms, Mae is good. Well known for their brand of what some would call “power-pop,” Mae’s uplifting melodies and soothing vocals have been the backbone of their success, and have created a strong following. The longevity sustained in the life of Mae is a rare case in an “indie pop” world flooded with one hit wonders and “come and go” artists, and the quality music that has flowed from the creative group is even rarer. Fans simply adored their previous venture, “The Everglow” and truth be told “Singularity” does have a lot to live up to. “Singularity” marks a new beginning for the group, as their debut record under their new home at Capitol Records.

Instrumental dynamics create a notable difference between “Singularity” and “The Everglow”. While the former was known for its keyboard driven songs, “Singularity” cranks up the guitars and bass. Tracks such as “Brink of Disaster” and “Sometimes I Can’t Make It Alone” can be classified as anthems, and will definitely serve as new fan favorites. While guitars are more aggressive, when combined with the signature smooth vocals of Dave Elkin, they blend to create the perfect fusion of pop and rock. As always, production is top notch, and despite the switch from Tooth and Nail’s Aaron Sprinkle (Anberlin, Thousand Foot Krutch, Dead Poetic) to producer Howard Benson, Mae’s sound remains untarnished and true to their roots. Those who enjoyed the mellower tracks found on “The Everglow” need not worry, as “Singularity” does have its softer moments with “Release Me” and “On Top”. On the downside, while “The Everglow” was epic, “Singularity” is merely good. Realizing this complaint isn’t with the album itself, but rather a failure to meet extremely high expectations. “Singularity” is far from a letdown. A few songs seemed to serve as “fillers”- what some would rather see released as B-Sides instead of actual album tracks.

In a nutshell, “Singularity” is a must pick up for any fan, and is sure to sell just as well, if not better than previous releases. Realizing band’s sounds evolve and change with time, one cannot be critical of the album solely based on “how good” the previous was. However, it does seem that Mae could probably produce even better. Regardless, another solid release for music enthusiasts to check out.

3 out of 5
Release Date: August 14th, 2007
Label: Capitol Records

Track Listing:
1.) Brink of Disaster
2.) Crazy 8’s
3.) Sometimes I Can’t Make It Alone
4.) Just Let Go
5.) On Top
6.) Waiting
7.) Sic Semper Tyrannis
8.) Release Me
9.) Telescopes
10.) Rocket
11.) Home
12.) Reflections

So our Kairos group has been reading Your God is Too Safe by Mark Buchanan and we’re only two chapters in but I’m loving it. In case that’s not the book you’re reading I’ll bring you up to speed. Buchanan talks about a place called Borderland. It’s a place that many Christians love to spend their days. It’s that place between being a sinner without a savior and being a follower of Christ. It’s accepting the grace but not the God. It’s being willing to take the prize but pretending you don’t have to do the work that is involved with getting there. This book is just the kick in the butt I need. It’s not that I am not reading my Bible or reading my Kairos book because I’m doing those things. I love to worship on Sunday mornings and nights. But when it comes to the things that truly require mind and soul…eh… that’s not the most important thing on my plate…(but it should be).Now, don’t get me wrong, when I worship my heart and soul are right there. But it’s different because I’m the one who’s talking. See, I love to talk. It’s easy to talk to God but it’s not as easy to listen. Because when I listen to the Holy Spirit as my mind starts to drift in class to a thought of slander or lust it makes me feel bad. Or when I listen to God as He slowly draws me to what He wants me to be… I have to let go of myself and that’s not that easy.I’m writing this because as Buchanan said you can feel lonely in Borderland, but you’re not alone. I think I feel a spiritual loneliness too. I talk WAY more than I let Him talk. He’s always there, but how could I know if I don’t let Him speak.

I like adventure— backpacking and camping, engaging strangers in conversation, urban exploration, getting lost and finding my way home. But I’m also a cautious person. I’m afraid of police officers. I’m overly paranoid with my driving. And the possibility of falling off a mountain (or a ski lift) before I’ve even reached the top scares me to death.

I’ve realized that there has to be a balance between spontaneity and caution, that space that we keep open between the two and wait for God’s direction. What we think is crazy merges with the God-typical. And to be obedient, we follow even when it seems illogical or impossible.

Chances are probably good that you know of my love for China and Asian culture. I lived there in the summer of 2006 for roughly six weeks, but had been enamored with eastern culture long before that. During childhood, I wrote reports about China for class, checked out library books, and tried to learn how to write my name in traditional Chinese script. I wanted to do anything that I could to learn about the culture and would often take my parents through the process with me.

When I told them the winter of my junior year that I wanted to spend my summer in China, my dad dismissed it as one of my passing schemes and my mother refused to even acknowledge the possibility. I had been the kid on the elastic child leash (seriously), the over-protected first born. And in her mind there was no possible way she would relinquish me to a world a full twelve hours in the future.

I learned that summer that God likes to work with the unworkable; sometimes I think He rather prefers it because it illuminates His glory. For all earthly purposes, I shouldn’t have had the opportunity to spend my summer in China- my parents disapproved, the amount of money that I needed to raise seemed impossibly high, and I worried about the loss of income I would incur from forgoing a summer of full-time work. But the Lord provided as He always does, quelling my doubts as He once calmed the stormy waters of Galilee.

That June, I boarded a plane in Chicago and landed on the other side the world. Up until that point I’d always wondered how it was possible to exist in a place so different from one’s own and still feel completely at home, to recognize dissonance and embrace it, creating one world from two opposing environments. Now I knew.

I learned more in those two months than I have collectively in my entire life. Perhaps most significant is the fact that God’s will trumps everything. No matter what decisions we come to on our own, no matter what we are influenced by, and no matter what obstacles we encounter, He will find a way to show us His will. All we have to do is believe, to step out on that water and trust that He won’t allow us to sink.