Home for the Holidays

I was wondering this week about what it means to truly be at home. The beauty of the phrase, "welcome home" is never more appreciated than when said to someone like a college student who has been deprived of a comfortable bed and real food for months on end (believe me, you start to miss those things real fast!). "Welcome home," is a phrase that, when said to it's full capacity, is one of the most wonderful things to hear. Like when it is said to a soldier coming home from duty, or to a newborn being brought home from the hospital, a loved one entering in the Pearly Gates of Heaven, or, in my case, a starving college student who has forget what real roast tastes like! "Welcome Home!"

I wonder if Jesus ever really felt at home here on this earth. For instance, think about the time when Jesus' parents lost track of him in Jerusalem when he was just a boy and found him at the Temple of all places. When they scolded him for running off, Jesus looked up - probably shrugged - and said, "Don't you know I would be at my Father's house?" (Luke 2:49, Kyle's New International Version). His home was at the Temple, at church, among his Father's presence. So I wonder what it was like when Jesus went back to Mary and Joseph's house at the end of a long day and they would say, "Welcome home, Jesus!" Where did Jesus really call home?

It's not surprising that people travel during the holidays to be with family; 16.5 million one way trips according the Bureau of Transportations to be exact! This year, you may even be traveling to and from places, maybe for family or (gasps) skipping Christmas for vacation! (which is probably the safest thing you could do with all those crazy bargain shoppers milling about at Christmas time). Point is, I'm sure a lot of people will be hearing the words, "Welcome home!" or something of the like. It is a time to come together, after all, and celebrate our Savior with community. Yet, no matter where we end up for the holidays, the words "welcome home" can still be true.

Jesus' concept of home isn't a physical location. At least, it isn't a geographic location. It's an anatomic location. Home is in your heart, when you are among the presence of the LORD. 2 Corinthians 5:6-8 has Paul saying that he would rather be in the presence of the Almighty than away from him in just the flesh. God's presence makes a home inside our hearts, a home He wants to share with you and I. The amazing thing about Jesus' birth to me is that he left Heaven, a wonderful and beautiful and glory filled place, to live on this filthy and fouled up planet. I would think a transition like that would be depressing - to go from glorious Heaven to, well, here. But when Jesus came to this planet, he made a home not in a geographic location, but in the hearts of men, a home he intended to share with you.

This Christmas, when you hear, "Welcome home!" may it not just describe where you are, but also the condition of your heart. Ultimately, Christmas is a time when we celebrate Jesus entering this world, making earth his home for a period of time. I invite you to let Jesus make part of his home in your heart as well. If anyone knows what home feels like, it was Jesus, a man who made a home both in heaven, on earth, and in the hearts of men so that he might redeem man from all the mistakes, faults, problems, issues, sin, deceit, and garbage man has made. Baby Jesus - the ultimate homemaker and mender of hearts!

Merry Christmas, and Welcome Home!

KB

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests." Luke 2:13-14

Traditional Christmas

Merry Christmas America! It's that time of the year to dust off the ornaments and staple coniferous branches to your wall in celebration of Jesus' birth. This year, like every year, I along with millions of other Americans will celebrate a holiday about our Lord and Savior with fudge, discounted gift items, and the smell of gingerbread. It's ironic that Jesus probably didn't see a single one of these things during his lifetime yet they are symbols of a holiday surrounding his birth. God bless America!

This year, I have decided to make my dedication to Christmas official. How?  I bought my first Christmas tree of course! Every year, 34-36 million Christmas trees are produced to keep up with the demand of them at Christmas time - I got one in my room covered, wrapped, bedazzled, and glowing as we speak. Of course the Christmas madness doesn't end there: over 3 billion Christmas cards will be sent this year in America. On average, each household sends 28 cards to family, friends, and people they want money from and in return, will receive about 28 cards from family, friends, and people who want money from them. Also, 31 percent of diamond sales are made during the season of Christmas, more than any other time of the year (Having worked in a jewelry store, I can validate this one; it's a tiring and hectic time for the diamond people!). In one Gallup poll, 60 percent of American households believed they would spend at least 500 dollars on gifts in 2000.

Oh, we are just scratching the surface here.

This year, "A Wonderful Life" will appear on TV more than any other holiday movie, people will walk approximately five miles in store parking lots during Christmas, 400,000 illnesses during the holiday will be because of spoilt food, and people in Mexico will wear red underpants for luck. Notice that none of those traditions have anything to do with the actual birth of Jesus Christ. Strange, seeing as it is a holiday dedicated to him.

However, one tradition I find myself constantly falling into is the tradition of "rediscovering" the meaning of Christmas. I fall away from the heart of it all, consumed by presents and packages, boxes and bows, Who stockings and roast beast (for all you Grinch fans like me). And I always find myself remembering that the heart of Christmas is really about Jesus, and his birth as a man in a manger so that he might be redemption for all people. It's a frustrating cycle: Christmas glam, gifts, guilt, remembering Christmas, Jesus, turkey dinner. But this year, I want the cycle to change.

Christmas traditions are wonderful things. The spirit of giving and love for each other is greatest around the holiday times. In fact, fewer people see therapists and have psychological meltdowns around the holidays. So why aren't we embracing that aspect of Christmas sooner rather than later? The heart of the holiday is Jesus Christ and his gracious and mind blowing act of mercy of coming to earth in the form of a baby. Beyond that, all the glam and charm of Christmas is a mere addition. Most of us have been blessed to enjoy those extra Christmas traditions, no matter how silly they are. So why not enjoy them with the spirit of Christ instead of just the spirit of Christmas?


In short, may we start this holiday season with a spirit of Christ. Things are tough in the world right now, more than usual. What a perfect time to dwell on the power of God and not the power of man. With all our gift buying, tree decorating, lighted homes, and gift exchanges, may the focus start with Christ, and the other traditions be a mere afterthought. This year, I pray we may find ourselves engulfed in Christ first, and then having to rediscover the glam and glitter of Christmas later on instead. May we start with Christ, and let him be our guide into this amazing holiday!

KB

"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill to all men." Luke 2:14


Merry Christmas!

Simple Thanks

I was sitting in the school library, speechless at what I just heard. Not that amazed kind of speechless or that wind-knocked-out-of-you speechless. It was more like a sympathetic kind of speechless. For the last couple of days I have been working with a nonprofit, service organization called Wings for L.I.F.E based in Roswell, New Mexico. They work primarily with children whose parents have been in and out of jail or come from situations where their family is usually incarcerated. As an aspiring psychologist, being objective is key; you can't let stuff get to you, or so I've been told. And for the record I'm pretty good at it.

But not this time.

All the kids were leaving or were being picked up from the program except three siblings. As some of the volunteer helpers were giving them some supplies for school, I asked about their story so I could get a baseline of what kind of problems they were facing. Their story: no parents, no family, in and out of jail themselves (some had multiple arrests by the age of 10), and they were sleeping on the floor of their grandparent's living room with little food in the house and no school supplies. This is how they will spend Thanksgiving this year.

This week, I've had the humbling privilege of working with kids like this. Never have I ever had to worry about where the next meal will come from, who if anyone will remember to pick me up from school, or how I will avoid getting abused. Never have I ever had to think if I will make it to adulthood and never have I ever had to worry about what options if any I will have once I make it there. Never have I ever had to worry about knowing what I was thankful for during Thanksgiving. But most of these kids do.

Never have I ever had to worry about being thankful. I used to think that not being thankful for something meant I was a selfish kid, but this week has challenged me - what if you have a hard time being thankful for anything because you have been given nothing to be thankful for in the first place? Most of these kids I got to work with don't know the saving grace of Jesus Christ, or have a family that cares, or even have a family at all. They ache for attention, they long for someone to love them, but they never get either. One girl was so wanting attention that she would bite herself and show off her wounds to get attention - she was 7. Another girl lost her mother the year before in a traffic accident that could have been avoided - she was 10. One boy's father was incarcerated for gang related behavior which made him weary of all men and possibly even weary of trusting in God - he was 9. These kids will have a hard time knowing what to be thankful for this year, if anything. Me? I'll have hard time finding something to not be thankful for.

So, listening to the story of the siblings without a home made me speechless. But what made me speechless wasn't that these kids necessarily came from a broken home, albeit it is very tough to hear. What made me speechless was that despite these kids coming from some of the worst situations imaginable, they still found something to be thankful for. They still found something to be thankful for something. As we went around in a circle saying what we were thankful for, I wondered what these kids would say. What did they say when I asked them what they were thankful for?

"I'm thankful for you."

What a humbling statement!

What are you thankful for this year? I am thankful for a lot of things, more things than I think I could count. If you're like me, then you might have a hard time this year finding something to not be thankful for. For some people, it might be hard to find something at all to be thankful for this year. But if God has taught me anything about thanksgiving, it is that the simplest act of compassion, the simplest act of attention, or the simplest act of care that you give someone might be the thing they're most thankful for this year.

Just as our Savior's act of compassion on the cross is the most love this world has ever seen!

And for that, I'm thankful.

KB

You will be made rich in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God -2 Corinthians 9:11

Hero for a Day

This is a narrative I wrote several months ago and entered it into a national contest on satire and humor writing. I have no idea how it did because, unfortunately, I forgot the name of the contest and I'm pretty sure I gave them the wrong email address for more information on the contest. Subsequently, this satire is out there, lost in a sea of other internet stories and poetic quips without names. Moral of the story - write things down! But I remembered I have a blog and so I put it up on here for your reading pleasure. It's not my usual type of post, but I hope you enjoy it's twist! 


"Hero for a Day"

In a far-away village
Next to the town of Dool,
Was a knight named Dillage
Who was never mistaken for a fool.
He was a dashingly handsome man
With a dashingly handsome plan
That would make him hero for the day.

In a castle lay his prize,
Guarded by fearsome ghouls,
A princess with shimmering eyes
Which shined like jewels!
To the castle he'd take flight
And save the princess that night
That would prove him hero for the day.

Upon trusty steed,
Sir Dillage rode across the plains
So he might carry out the deed
Which would win his acclaim.
The townsfolk would adore him
And the Princess would love him
And he'd become hero for the day.

"S-s-s-stop! Who goes there?"
Said a timid voice from behind the castle wall.
"I, Sir Dillage am here,
To save the princess from that tower that is so tall!
The dragon I will slay
And villains too, I might just say,
And become hero for the day!"

Just then, from behind the wall
Came little Leroy, the grounds keeper
Who was barely five feet tall
But the land's biggest pip-squeaker!
At Leroy, Sir Dillage did laugh,
For he was just a runt, small & daft
And wouldn't stop him from being hero for the day.

As Dillage went past with a shove,
Leroy began to cry,
For the princess he did love
And save her he dare not try.
For he was a weak, young lad
And fighting skills he did not have
To be hero for a day.

As hours ticked & minutes passed,
Leroy knew what would happen.
That Dillage would come back fast
With the princess in good fashion.
Only Dillage would the princess adore
And have need for Leroy no more
And Sir Dillage would be hero for a day.

But lo-and-behold
Sir Dillage came back by himself!
And unlike Dillage was told,
There wasn't any wealth.
He rode by angrily
And gave Leroy the foulest look as can be,
For he wasn't hero for the day.

"I knew it!" Leroy shouted.
"The princess loved me after all!
Her love for me was not doubted
I'll go to her, to that tower so tall."
Up the steps he climbed,
Rehearsing what he'd say so it would rhyme,
Because he'd become hero for the day.

But as he burst through the tower door,
Things were different than he thought.
The princess nagged Leroy to the floor;
She was just a dreadful snot!
It was either her dress wasn't pretty enough
Or the sun on her skin was too rough
And she always demanded her hero for the day.

It is no surprise Leroy didn't last.
NO ONE could take the princess for long.
He fled the castle fast
So his life he'd prolong.
From afar she was a buttercup,
But there was a reason she was locked up,
And never found her hero for the day!

KB

"Better to live on the corner of the roof than in the house with a quarrelsome wife." -Proverbs 21:9

Lightbulbs

Fifty-five thousand fans screamed all around me at Jones AT&T Stadium in Lubbock, Texas at the Texas Tech/Missouri game this week. For the first time in, well, a long time, Texas Tech actually played good football! We aren't known for our pristine record mind you, so an opportunity to scream and yell and actually see results down on the field, well that's just rewarding. However, during the lulling moments of the game where nothing spectacular was going on or our quarterback dropped yet another pass too far to the left, I sat there thinking, particularly about light bulbs. Those really massive, gigantic lightbulbs that power stadium lights and signal airplanes to stay away from the tops of towers or tall buildings. Those kind of lightbulbs.

Who changes those?

It's the age old joke, "How many ____ does it take to change lightbulb?" Like, "How many joke writers does it take to change a lightbulb? Answer: Two hundred but don't ask why, we haven't figured it out." Or, "How many Church of Christ elders does it take to change a lightbulb? Answer: 'Change? Who wants to change?'" (compliments of my Bible professor). I'll spare you any more lame jokes. But in all truth, how many men does it take to change that lightbulb way up at the top of, say, the Empire State Building? Answer: just one.

Last guy I found who did it was a guy by the name of Deke Johnson. He was paid (substantially I hope) to climb over 1,300 feet (that's over a quarter of a mile) up in the air to the very top of the Empire State Building and change the lightbulb that signals planes and helicopters to stay away from hitting the building. The bulb he used was over 600 watts, the size of a grapefruit. The fun part is, of course, the last 80 foot climb where all he had to climb on were pencil-sized bolts. This is a job that I'm sure requires life insurance as a prerequisite.

One must get to thinking a quarter of a mile up there, above literally everything else. The view is phenomenal, the job is exhilarating, the story is one of a kind. This man, whom you've probably never heard of before, has seen the world from an angle that you and I will probably never get to see, at lengths you and I will most likely never go to see it. And even though you've never heard of Deke Johnson until now, his job has probably saved countless lives, ensuring aircraft don't accidentally hit the building. Likewise, we as Christians play an interesting role in this life, one that is unique to us in our respective perspectives and lengths. We each have been given a light, the light of Salvation, and are given the job to use that light to save and help others. We may not gain great recognition, we may not gain great acclaim, we may not even get great benefits from it ourselves. However, what we do with that life might save others and help us see the world from a greater perspective than we've ever seen it before.

So, this week, may you go great lengths and travel the heights in order to share your light. Salvation is a gift that we've been given with the intention that we share it with the rest of the world. Sharing it will be the most fulfilling thing you've ever done, I assure you. The journey you embark on to do so will be unique and special to you - it will be a journey built for you, with specific challenges and triumph that you can testify to. Furthermore, it will allow you to see the world like you've never seen it before. May you enjoy sharing the light of Salvation with the world, and enjoy the view from up top!

KB

"You are the light on a hill. A city that cannot be hidden." Matthew 5:14

Stretched for Resources

The name "At Wit's End," is pretty cliche' for a blog, I know. Why did I name it that? Great question. I was stumped at what to call it, I asked Google to spit out a cheesy title, and Google delivered! Mission accomplished! When I named this blog "At Wit's End," I didn't think of how truly accurate the title was going to be. At one point, it was called "Life's Little Lessons" or something cute along those lines, but "At Wit's End" just described it so much better, so the name stuck. From the day that I started writing this blog to the day I am publishing this latest post, nothing has slowed down or gotten easier - I always feel that I am on my wit's end! And today is no exception.

Type in "busy" into Google news search. Today's search results bring up busy elections, busy baseball teams, busy hurricane seasons, and the arrest of a man dressed as the Hamburgler (not even Google can be pinpoint accurate all the time!). We live in a busy world with busy stuff doing busy things! So what happens when you are convicted to do something for somebody but you have no time or resources to do anything to help them?

I think in college, the value of a dollar sky rockets. Heck, today I bought a blazer for only seven dollars, SEVEN DOLLARS! Only in college! I also think that the value of time becomes increasingly important with age; after all, every second we've lived is one less second we get to live- we should make the most of the time we have now. However, college is also a period where time and resources are scarce. All your money is going to overpriced textbooks and all your time is going into reading those overpriced text books. But I have to say, just because time and money is scarce doesn't mean that heart is - in fact, there's never been a time when I've seen heart bigger. 

Maybe it's because we live out of Raamen noodle cups and hand-me-down thrift stores, but college students, to me, have a better understanding of what it means to have each other than what it means to have things. And this week, I've looked around and seen folks that have needed a miracle now more than they've ever needed one before. But what is different about college students than a lot of people on this earth is that selfless, genuine college kids are typically a community that gives what they have, if and when they have it, and supports each other in a very real and physical way because they understand what it means to not have a whole lot. No checks to a non-profit group. No donations to charity. No pamphlets on where to get help. 

Real, physical help.

But so often, we are quite literally too busy and too conflicted to actually help out everybody who needs help, which leads us back to the question - what do you do when you are moved to help out this world but have neither the time nor the resources to be able to help?

Community.

Which is quite literally all around us. Often the people we see everyday are people who are just as in need as we are, but neither them nor us care to let it be known that we need each other. But in truth, we all do. Psychological studies have shown that people perform better, stronger, and more efficiently when their peers encourage them. We are all given the chance to do that- to uplift and encourage. That takes little time and effort, even less money, and a heart for each other. So this week, when your heart is convicted and your time and resources are conflicted, encourage and uplift each other. Be a community built to uplift each other. I think if we did, we'd be surprised at how valuable it turns out to be!

Oh and if you ever wanna send a starving college kid a check, don't hesitate!

KB

"Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the Law of Christ." Galatians 6:2

The Why

Over the year and a half that I've been blogging, I've talked about a lot of things. Most were senseless, like my explanation of God killing teenagers for making fun of bald men. Some were actually pretty interesting to write, like the guy who has seen over 300 state executions in his life. Others, like this one, mean a lot to me. And over the course of my writing and blogging experience, I've spread my wings over a multitude of topics and ideas and I gotta admit, it's been pretty fun. One thing that I have not talked about, though, has been why I write what I write. Or for that matter, why I write at all. In order to understand that, it must be answered with a question.

What does it take to write?

Answer: a finger. You don't even need them all! Just one will do. Any one of them, just pick one, and start typing away at your keyboard with it. Write whatever is on your heart with it. That's really all you need.

The reason I write is simply because I can. In starting this blog, I never thought it would gain very many readers. Today, there is a steady following; more than I could have ever imagined. And even still, I'm a blip in the radar of writers out there. According to one site, there are over 126 million blogs out there and still another site said that 18.6 new blog postings go up each second, equalling roughly 1.6 million per day. Consider today's little blog posting one in a million (pun intended)!

I love the readership, so thank you for killing time on my blog today! But what I think I love even more than that is writing itself. This is what I do. This is who I am. This is what I love. But I am not alone.

As I've said before, we each have a story within us itching at the bit to be told. And what I love more than readership, more than writing, and yes, even more than rootbeer, is hearing someone tell their story in their own way. It doesn't take much - really it doesn't! It just takes you, being you, telling the story about how you became you. For those redeemed by the blood of Christ, our story is all the more exciting, and redeeming! We have a message within each of us that far surpasses anything that we could conjure up with human minds or earthly creativity. We have a story that is bigger than us, and is orchastrated by the greatest story-teller of them all! That, my friends, is an epic story, far better than anything off broadway or television or (gasps) JERSEY SHORE!

So tell your story, in the way you write best - whether it be with words or actions, letters or numbers, smiles or grins - and listen to the stories being told every day by every person. By doing this, you get to leave the imprint of who you are and where you've come from on others and get to be molded by the life of those around you as well. It's what makes humans who we are, so go out there and experience story.

And that is why I write!

my small story

here is my small story,

smallest and meekest of all.

some of the details are gory,

and others will enthrall.

it is my small story which i will tell,

with a conclusion that i get to spell.

here is my small story,

smallest and meekest of all.

and if you look closely at my story,

you'll find it was HIS glory, strongest of all!

KB

"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the LORD, not for men." - Colossians 3:23

Freeze Framing

My nose itched, my foot trembled, I was crushing my friend Morgan under the weight of my dress shoes on top of her heels, a guy just stabbed himself, and I had to go to the bathroom.

And this was the third time this situation happened this week alone!

I've never been in a musical before. I've never really thought about looking to be in a musical for that matter. And it wasn't like I had much time to think about being in a musical before I was given a costume and props and told to sing in front of several hundred people. Apparently that was the strategy used by my directors to get me on stage, and it worked devilishly well I might add! Now, I was standing in front of several hundred people in a freeze frame on stage, pretending to hold back a bunch of "townspeople" from intruding on the climax of the musical. All I can remember, though, is how bad my nose itched... and how bad I had to use the bathroom!

Frozen and contorted in the most awkward positions, my fellow actors and I did our best to stand still while the leads played out a dramatic death scene. I can't tell you what the scene looks like. Not because I don't want to give away the ending of the play, it's just that I've never actually seen this scene before. My back has been turned to the scene every time we've rehearsed it. And somehow, I managed to place myself in such a way that exerts the optimum about of physical pain on my body. Either someone's stepping on my foot, clawing at my arm, squishing me between someone else, or is falling on top of me. Twenty-five rehearsals later and I'm thinking that worker's compensation is a bright alternative for me!

It's the most important scene in the whole performance, and as an extra for the scene, frozen and contorted in painful glory, it's easy to forget what the scene is going on behind us. Much like our lives, we play our part, the same one we've played hundreds of times before, and easily lose sight of the greater picture behind us. We feel contorted and awkward, with noses itching and people stepping on our toes. But we can not lose sight of the greater picture.

Even though things may feel boring and tedious, awkward and clumsy, or repetitive and dry, there's very possibly an incredible climax going on right behind us, changing hundreds of people's perception of the greater story. At work, at school, around town, the simple and small things we do often have a profound impact on the people watching our "performance." It's easy to forget that we are constantly under the scrutiny of other people and that we are contributing members to a greater story. But in those tiring and sometimes dull moments, a great climax is taking place right behind us! So keep standing, keep giving it your all, and if you have to itch your nose during the middle of a performance, avoid scratching it at all costs!

"Consider now, for the Lord has chosen you to build a temple as his sanctuary; be courageous and act!" 
I Chronicles 28:10



KB

Well, I'm Back!

3 months 14 days 15 hours and some 45 minutes.

That's how long it's been since I've updated by blog. Sad, I know...

But I can't say that taking a hiatus for a while wasn't bad. It was actually kind of therapeutic. Writing, and art in general, should never feel tiresome or boring or obligatory. It should be free. It should be compelling. It should avoid keeping me from watching Lie to Me Season 2 in the wee hours of the morning and should allow me to enjoy what some people refer to as a "social life." Unfortunately, this blog became my ball and chain... bleh.

Pumping out a fresh, new, witty idea once a week got to be tedious, I'm not going to lie. I starting pulling stuff out of thin air there for a while (i.e. March 17, 2010's posting entitled "Pimp Master Patty." Wow, even my title was lame...). So, after my 3 month, 14 day, 15 hours and now some 46 minutes later, I am returning to the indie publishing that we internet junkies call blogging.

As of right now, I've been writing and publishing blogs for almost a year and a half and although I have yet to seal the deal on my book deal (oh it'll come... eventually...) I continue to write. If you were to stack my blogs end on end at this point, you'd have nearly 40,000 words equaling over 130 pages of sarcasm and sardonic wit. On average, from what I can tell, an average person speaks roughly 6,000 - 7,000 words a day. So, basically my blog postings would take you almost a week to recite if you only read them during casual conversation.

Mercy.

I didn't know I was that wordy. In fact, I seriously doubt I speak 6,000 words a day. I have a hard time believing certain people only speak 6,000 words a day. But whatever the number of words, those words all add up to something - a story. A story that is unique to us as individuals, that no one else can recite for us. No one else can take our story from us. It's an epic story spanning the course of a lifetime with interconnecting plot lines and side stories that intrigue us even more into who we are. Our story is ours to tell, so we might as well do our best to tell in the most epic way possible!

So I'm back to writing I suppose. Somewhere between work, college, responsibilities, and being a ladykiller, I'll find some time to jot something down on here. In the mean time, may you find a way to retell your story in the best way you know how. Don't recycle the same story that everybody's heard over and over again. Don't let your story become stale or boring. Certainly avoid entitling it "Pimp Master Patty" for sure. And, of course as my mantra would say, love to live life.

(Sigh) It feels good to be back blogging.

2 Corinthians 5:17
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a NEW creation; old things have passed away; behold ALL THINGS have become NEW!


KB

Lesson 1: Wearing Crowns on Your Hands

Life is a dish best served, not waited on.

Steve Dublancia in his New York Times Bestselling book, Waiter Rant, knows exactly what this means. Steve is a waiter and is quick to convey just how painstaking and brutal the service industry is in his weekly blog, Waiter Rant. His life chronicles a series of long and arduous day with unruly and socially unacceptable behaviors enacted by ungrateful, cynical, selfish customers. Think about every waiter you've stiffed in the past, jeered at, mocked at, and complained about. Their daily routine consists of taking the garbage and service delicacies and do it with a smile.

It's the equivalent of being pummeled by roadies and then laughing about it.

Every day.

The service industry is a difficult and trying business to say the least. The level of extravagance and quality that uncaring, undeserving, ungrateful people expect from their peon underlings rises with the population. This world is filled with people who demand good service and fewer people who actually serve. This is unfortunate seeing that the thrill of living it not lived in the gluttonous feastings of quality service, but in the service itself.

It's easy to forget who has what title these days. We've created an overabundance of spectacular names that what we're left with is a sea of people with their own claim to fame. And since everybody is "original," then who's really left to stand out except the ones with no title at all?

Like the story of the princess who tried to win the affection of the kingdom. She lost her title to another princess and as the sash and crown was handed to a different successor. The other princess gracefully accepted her kingdom's rejection and, moving to the successor with tears of disappointment in her eyes, tied the bows in the sash and pinned the glimmering crown in the hair of the new princess. The kingdom below watched her carry the crown to her competitor and were in awe of her sincerity. Their allegiance was already pledged to another, but their hearts were forever wooed by the princess who wore her crown in her hands, not on her head.

No great act can be accomplished from a pedestal, which is why humility is the foundation of honest living. Helen Nielsen once said, "Humility is like underwear, essential, but indecent if it shows." It is the ultimate atribute a person can obtain. Greatness is won perserved not through force, but through delicate, meek action.

Service is an overlooked, unconsidered aspect of daily lives. People don't pay attention to people who serve just like a table at a restaurant hardly remembers their waiter's name, let alone give notice to the waiter's vital proximity to the table's personal conversation. Servers witness people with their guard down and hearts wide open. Parts of life are evident in places and ways never before imagined as a server does their duty. Life and it's complexities are better seen through the looking glass of meek courtesy.

Life is best seen when served, not waited on.

"To become truly great, one must stand with people, not above them." - Charles de Montesquleu

Facebook Phenomenon

Nearly 70%, if not more, of the advertising done for this site is done on Facebook.com. Why? Because Facebook works! It is a phenomenon that is growing rapidly not only in America but throughout the world. It is almost a necessity in today's modern era; if you don't have one, you will. If you say you won't, you'll need one. If you never get one, you'll be way out of touch. It has outgrown being a fad - it has become a way of life. So in stumbling today, I came across some facts about Facebook that astonished me. I now share them with you...



[Source: Online PhD Programs for MashableMashable.com]


Astonishing, huh?


So I encourage you in this remarkable networking world of Facebook, to find a way to live as genuinely in your cyber life as you do in your real life. As Psalm 65:5 reads, "You answer us with awesome deeds of righteousness, O God our Savior, the hope of all the ends of the earth, and of the farthest seas..." All the ends of the earth. And the farthest seas. What a distance, one that need I remind you includes Facebook, Myspace, e-mail, text messaging, telephone conversations, and yes, even faxes. 


God is present in all aspects of our lives. So I encourage you this week, if you are part of the 200 million people who check their Facebook accounts daily (and admit it, you are), then keep living that spirit of genuine love that God has poured out for us on the cross. God is not landlocked; his forgiveness extends to the farthest sea and even the web! Happy Facebooking!


KB

Competition for My Heart

What had I done?

That's what I thought as I left the panel of judges who were grading me on my extemporaneous (impromptu) speech at a national competition. It was the third day of this stuff, I had given these impromptu speeches about business, ergonomics, economics, and other assorted boring topics and had progressed to the final round. The top ten. And now, I thought I'd throw it away because of what I'd just said.

Half an hour prior to this moment, I sat alone in my room thinking about how awesome it was that I'd made it this far. Few teams from my region came close to where I was and even fewer placed in national events at this competition. My division of speaking competition contained nearly 200 participants in it alone and I had made it to the top ten. High on cloud nine, I was starting to think I'd been doing pretty well and I had been, but only by the grace of God. The day before this one, in the round to qualify me to the finals, I had bombed the speech. I had no clue what I was talking about and made it up as I went and had no business being in the finals. By the grace of God, I'd made it, so I thought I owed him a little homage for his grace.

I said my prayers and thanked God for what he'd done etc etc. I went to my competition, signed in, faked smiled a lot to people evaluating me, etc etc. Then I was given two topics to speak about and ten minutes to prepare a short speech about them. It was for a business organization so they were topics related as such.

The first question: "How do you run a successful campaign for an office?"

Bleh. I tossed that one.

The second question: "What are your mistakes and what have you done to fix them?"

I stopped. Slamming into me like a bullet, it hit me that I had not done anything to deserve this honor. I had made a mistake on the speech the day before, I had goofed up my speech earlier that morning, I had not let anyone help me prepare for this particular event, and I had not deserved to be in the finals. Moreover, the only reason I was there in the first place was by the grace of God, and I had paid my "homage" to him in a 2 minute prayer earlier that morning. My mistakes were many. My solutions were few. I was a wreck.

I didn't have much to prepare, just a lot of thought and self reflection. I walked into the room with the judges presented my topic and stood there. I could either give them a speech about how I could streamline my business solutions and make my work ergonomic or I could tell them the truth.

I was left with the truth.

I told them I was a wreck. I was prideful, arrogant about the competition, and too headstrong. I gave them a list of reasons not to pick me for the national award. And then I told them I was a religious man, humbled by a gracious God with wonderful patience and for some reason, he saw something in this stupid, prideful head of mine. I thanked them. I walked out. I figured I'd just thrown my competition.

Did I win? No way. I was beat out by a bunch of kids who spoke English as a second language go figure. I don't really care though. I doubt it would have mattered much a year from now anyways. It was the truth, though. I wasn't about to tack on "liar" to the list of mistakes I'd come up with. Although, as I walked down the hall, thinking about how I'd just thrown it away, I was reminded of Moses and the burning bush (Exodus 3). He was a man who thought he'd had it together, humbled by his flaws, and now he stood before holy ground by this burning bush. As Rob Bell comments in his book Velvet Elvis, the burning bush where God called him to deliver the Israelites was a place Moses probably walked by every day. Now, it was holy ground because God was there and Moses fell to his face, humbled by the idea that he did not have it all together.

You may call it a meltdown, but I like to think my speech in front of the judges was more than that. As I walked in, I realized I had too many flaws to talk about in one setting and moreover, the ground I was standing on was holy ground. God was there. And like Moses, I realized how messy my life really was.

Holy ground is not just found in "holy" places. It is all over. We can find it in a sudden realization in a sudden moment that we do not have things together and we do not have a clue what we are doing. Like Moses, we may find that holy place in an area that we pass by daily or it may even be in a place that is new and fresh to us. I hope you find that holy place, that place where God dwells and you can feel him all around. I pray you can hear him as clear as can be, whether it be by a bush or in front of a panel of judges. All ground is holy. It's all a matter of hearing what God is saying there.

Dimples on My Car

The sound of a fender bender is very unique. Television doesn't do it justice, really. To me, it sounds kind of like a large, styrofoam cup being punched by Lou Ferigno. Or at least, this was the sound my car made when a large F-150 backed into it in the parking lot of a bank. I guess in a very figurative sense, that is kind of what happened. Big truck meets little car and crunch. This is also exactly how I described it to the police officer when he arrived to fill out an accident report, although I don't think he got the pun.

Fender benders are kind of like wedgies - nobody likes them and they won't go away until you deal with them, which you will eventually have to do. The damages to my car were pretty minimal; in fact, it actually gives me a pretty good excuse to fix my fender, a chore I've been meaning to do for a while (albeit at my expense). This does not mean, though, that I wasn't angry. Ask the rookie I'm training to take over my job. She was with me when it happened, first week on the job, and experienced just how vocal I can be at times. I believe the words I first said were:

"YOU &#$*@ #!%@ !"


or something like that.

But what are you going to do? I had no choice but to wait there and pick the wedgie life just gave me.

I sent off my trainee to run an errand down the street. I sat down on the curb, waiting for the police report, while the other driver sat down and whipped out a pack of cigarettes. I thought about asking for one too, although I can barely concentrate the air from a sauna in my lungs without throwing a gagging fit, so I doubted I would handle Marlboros. I had nothing to do, so I prayed, mostly to get my mind off it.

"Pretty bad day, eh God?"

"Well, you didn't lose a friend today, kiddo. And you still have breath in your lungs. Looks like reason to celebrate to me."

And that's all that shut me up. I'm not sure what exactly happened in that moment. Maybe the realization that I know many families who have it much worse today. Maybe I realized that there was nothing I could do to prevent the life wedgie now, so I'd have to pick it. Maybe I just realized that God had a point! And so, that's all that shut me up.

The rest of the procedure went really well. The other driver was really nice and we spent most of the that time laughing and making jokes about how my trainee was being initiated into her new job. I looked at my car that night, thinking about how I saved up to buy it for nearly five years and bought it with my own money. That didn't make me more upset, though. It didn't bother me at all.

In fact, the dent was really actually pretty profound. It looks kind of like a dimple on a smiling cheek. That means something to me because I grew up most of my life with my family always making fun of the dimple on my cheek when I smiled. And in it's own weird, crazy way, it means a lot to me. It reminds me of me.

I am like the car. God is the owner. He buys me used, beaten up, and slightly worn around the edges for a low price of Jesus' death. Not a bad deal, right? But then, I drive off and get in fender benders, marking up my paint job and body work. But somehow, what others see as dents and body damage, God sees as dimples on a fender and he doesn't mind it. It gives the vehicles character. It gives it pizazz. It doesn't de-value the car; to Him, it only increases the value.

So, when life gives you a wedgie, pick it out and remember that God sees you as much more than just a beat up sinner - he sees you as his beat up sinner. And that couldn't make him happier!

KB

Afloat Between Two Powers

Out on the sea

Between the US and Cuba

Was a small boat, tiny and wee

That would cause a lot of hoop-la

On the radars it appeared

Not too far, closing in near-

A little boat on the sea.

The U.S. thought it was Castro’s

And demanded answers.

Cuba thought America was the maestro

With their imperialism spreading like cancer!

Neither side was too happy

Thinking the other side was attacking

With this little boat on the sea.

Hail the Chief and commission the ships-

Today we go to war!

And the Cubans got a tip

That this was reality, not just lore.

So it was off to fight

Which put both sides in a fright

Over a tiny boat on the sea.

The missiles were armed,

The muzzles were pointed,

Waiting for the other to disarm

But both were disjointed.

They stood their ground

With what they found-

A little boat on the sea.

Said both sides:

“Hold it men,

Now’s our time

To pay them back times ten

For they really drew the line!

They think they’re hot stuff

But we’ve had enough

With this little boat on the sea.”

However, right before they fought,

Out there between the U.S. and Cuba

They saw on this boat they’d both sought

An immigrant man with a tuba!

He played it well to the fleets (which he did not notice,)

A small, bald, Russian man named Otis

Out on his little boat on the sea.

Both sides sat so intent and listened

That they totally forgot why they were there.

So even though their missiles gleamed and pistols glistened,

Neither side seemed to care.

They shrugged and went back home that night

It just wouldn’t make sense to fight

Over a little boat on the sea.

I Can Feel It

Life sometimes throws curveballs. Today, for me, it came in the form of a notice on my computer at work. Not the best of places to find a curveball, but it was there nonetheless. On the screen, the note said that two kids from my school were killed in a freak accident of carbon monoxide poisoning. That was it - short and to the point. Not the best of ways to find a curveball, but it was there nonetheless.

I knew the guys. Not well, but I knew them. I knew a lot of people who knew them much better than I did, people who were much more affected by the news than I was. I saw tears, I saw fears, and I saw a blankness in people's faces, one of those blank disbeliefs that stare into the middle distance, stunned in silence. This life that we run so quickly suddenly stops. Plans are scrapped. Events are postponed.

Life stops.

And God. Where was he? People are mad, minds are blank, and where is he, we ask? "I will work all thing for good..." (Romans 8:28) but how on earth is this good? "I have a plan for you..." (Jeremiah 29:11) he says, but how does that plan involve this, we ponder? We cannot help but wonder, in these times of totally unbelievable tragedy, how we are supposed to be comforted by something like Revelation 21:4 which says that God will wipe every tear from our eye, no more sorrow, and no more pain when we here on earth are wrenching in sorrow and pain? These questions roll around our heads in times of chaos. I myself dealt with these issues to a degree, but it could be seen distinguished on the faces of every person who stood there, dumbfounded by the news.

Because life stopped. For all of us.

And in a still small voice, that evening on my computer screen shone, a simple message of few words written by a friend. It glowed gently, randomly, and individually. It was yet another curveball on my computer screen. It said:

Somebody's prayin'. I can feel it.

A lone message in a world of expansive networking stood out like a small voice in a silent crowd. What is the prayer? I don't know. Are they even praying about the same thing? I don't know. But the point remains not in the content of the prayer, but in the prayer itself. It's out there. Somebody's doing it. Questions still remain, life has still been stalled, but that voice starts a recovery. Whether it be death, addiction, heartache, or depression. Whether it stuns, stalls, stops, or halts. Whether we are full of questions or can't think at all. Somebody's praying.

And life starts again for all of us slowly and with a still, small prayer.

"God... help."

***

When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:

“Death is swallowed up in victory."

—1 Corinthians 15:54 

Dedicated to Mike Hillman and Jesse Andrus - may you rest in heavenly peace. April 12, 2010

On This Rock I Stand

For the first time in a long time, if ever, Easter has taken on a very meaningful spirit for me. Lately, the church has been under a lot of fire and stress with legal and social dilemas. The pope is under fire from the Catholic church for the controversy he has hidden. Christian radical groups, or should I say radical groups that claim to be Christian, have tainted the church by violence and extremism this past week. All this took place during the week leading up to Easter, the holy week, which made it hard to focus on the true meaning of Easter. Things have just been discouraging.

Easter this year was away from home, probably the first time we weren't at home for the holiday. We visited my sister in college and attended her church for services. Her long time boyfriend joined us, bringing his little brother from the Big Brothers, Big Sisters foundation along with him. Felipe was a young boy, around nine years old, who was mostly shy and self kept but polite and cordial.

The six of us took our seats and waited for services to start. The people were friendly, the pastor was genuine, and the church was a great place overall. Still flooded with the chaos of life and drama of Christendom, though, my mind just wasn't focused on church. It was elsewhere. I was concerned with all the things the Church should be fixing. My mind wasn't prepared for Jesus. It was distracted with other relationships. It wasn't where it should be. It was scattered.

As worship got underway, I tried to focus my heart on God, the real star of the show. It just wasn't there though. About that time, my sister leans over to her boyfriend a few chairs over and motions for him to give her his Bible, which I thought was odd seeing as she had her own Bible with her. She took his Bible and tossed it on the ground and stepped on it! It was way out of place but then it hit me. My sister has hip dysplasia, and as a result, is missing a few inches on one of her legs making her off balance when she stands still. Her boyfriend's Bible, however, compensated those inches perfectly. She could stand straight and comfortably during worship by the support of the Bible under her feet. That's when it hit me.

Psalm 119:105

Your word is a lamp unto my feet,

   and a light unto my path.

It took on a very literal meaning this year. The word of God is not just something I should take to heart, but stand on with confidence just as my sister could stand on the Word and be comforted by it, literally. It was a strong foundation that I needed to continue to build upon. It reminded me of a hymn written by Edward Mote: "On Christ the solid rock I stand; all other ground is sinking sand." My mind was sinking when it should have been founded solidly on the Rock.

And as I looked down at timid, young Felipe, I prayed it over him. After all, he's young and innocent. He doesn't need the heartache of sin and guilt over his life; a life filled with disappointments and sorrows when he could be given the Word to stand on confidently and Jesus' blood to wash him clean of guilt.

It was an unorthodox sign, but then again, I have found that most of God's signs to me are unorthodox. Stand on the Word, literally. Walk out of the house with confidence that the Word is with you, that Christ has saved you. May that confidence be wherever you go.

KB

Devotion

While our lives may be busy and bustling, what does God do during the course of the day and what part does he play every day?

KB

Pimp Master Patty

March 17th marks St. Patrick's Day, the day of the patron saint of Ireland. However, to me, it's a predominately Anglo-Saxon holiday- it's a holiday made up by white people. Tell people that, though, and they flip out. "How racist! That's full of unequality and stereotypes!" No. It is honest, my friends.

I am white. Extremely white. So say, for instance, you saw me wearing a sombrero on Cinco de Mayo- you would probably laugh at "that white guy trying to be Hispanic." Or what if I celebrated the African holiday of Kwansa- you'd probably think I was a little strange. And if I carved a dredel on Hanukkah, you'd think, "What a weird little Protestant." You'd say and do these things because I'm not Hispanic, African, or Jewish. I'm white. Extrememly white. And St. Patrick's day is an extremely white holiday.

Again, this isn't racism. I'm not pledging that white people band together and stop other cultures from wearing dorky green hats and drinking green beer. I love respecting other cultures' holidays. I AM saying that the holiday has been developed primarily by the white culture, i.e. the Irish. It's a historical fact, not a personal opinion. But I mean really, can you think of any other culture on this plant that would be crazy enough to dye the entire Chicago River green? I didn't think so. So in understanding my heritage on this Anglo-Saxon created holiday this year, I strived to better understand my roots and I found that today, they revolve around one guy named Patrick. Big surprise there, huh?

What an awful name- Patrick. Who would want to hang out with a guy named Patty? Maybe a boy named Sue (sorry for the pun). Unfortunately for this boy-wonder, he was captured and sold into slavery before he could change his name. And for six years, he worked as a sheep farm slave in Ireland before running off to a monestary a the tender age of 22. It wasn't until his thirties that he returned to Ireland to preach the Gospel and later became the driving force behind founding Catholicism in Ireland. So, on a holiday remembering a guy a Catholic legend who is responsible for the salvation of an entire country, why the heck do we wear green and pinch people? Doesn't add up.

Many of the ideas of modern St. Patrick's Day are actually derivatives of pagan rituals. That is ironic because the holiday started out originally a Catholic holiday. However, from the mythology of leprechaun to the superstitions of warding off bad spirits by wearing green, this holiday has gradually shifted from the religious holiday that it was to the Hallmark greeting card holiday it is today. In total, most of the traditions of the holiday today are derivitves of ideas and religions from all around the globe with a few exceptions sneaking in. (One of those exceptions would be eating the traditional Irish meal of corn beef and cabbage which I believe should be done away with. Why can't we celebrate it with a steak and loaded potatoes instead of this nasty garbage? I'm sure the Irish still have a few potatoes left over from their famine in 1845; load them up with sour creme and chives, laddy!)

Much like what has happened to the holdiay of St. Patrick's Day, our own personal beliefs are often flooded with the same blend of ideas. What we may mistake as the infalible truth has been fouled up by man's practices no matter if your Protestant, Catholic, New Age, or believe in the Great Speghetti Monster (yes, there is a church for the Flying Speghetti Monster). For instance, the structure of the Christian church service has been derived much from the midevil superstitions of Gregory the Great, aka the first monk to be pope. The Church building itself takes much of its structure from pagan ideaology (for instance, the steeple of a church is a derivitive of the towers anceint Egyptians used to reach towards their gods in the sky). At the root of it, the Bible is still the infallible truth; on the outside, our practices sometimes mimic that of pagan ideas.

With the right heart, there is nothing wrong with tradition. Just like Patty's Day is fun, so traditions can feel very rewarding. With the wrong heart, though, they are a waste of time. So may your St. Patrick's Day be full of fun and maybe even cultural meaning. If you are white, I hope you do your research into the heritage of this Anglo-Saxon, Irish holiday. It's who you are, "me laddy's"; you best know who you are. If your not, may you enjoy the festivities from drinking lots of green beer to dying random stuff green. All people are welcome to have fun. And may you find meaning in whatever you do in life, whether it be in religion or in entertainment.

KB

Feeling Blue

"I just don't care about it." Those were the words that became the cake topper to a testy weekend. "I just don't do that sort of thing..." he said. The person was referring to a Bible study of mine, one that I was excited to start. "It's just that I've been there, tried that, don't care, and I doubt your 'new' group will be any better than that." That is what I heard anyways, it didn't really matter what he'd said, that's what he meant. And it was at this point my heart sunk, my head throbbed, and my emotions were shot. "I just don't care," resonated with me, and this was just the cake topper!

The day before, I was enjoying a peaceful afternoon in one of my favorite stores, roaming around, looking at books, and picking out movies for the weekend. I had seen some friends there, said hi, talked about how great the afternoon was going, and enjoying life. I went to the checkout line, the guy rung in my stuff, and I swiped my debit card through the machine. Error message: did not read. I thought, that's cool, sometimes that sort of thing happens. I did it again. Another error message. Then a third time. Then a fourth. My card was ringing through as an insufficient and I freaked out. I knew I had plenty of money in that account because I had just been to the bank and my card worked fine the day before, but now, it wasn't and I immediately thought my account had been hacked and the money was gone. And if you've ever been in line when something like that happens, you know how embarrassing it can be. I paid the guy in cash and raced home, eager to call the bank to find out what was going on. Unfortunately, it was Saturday and the bank was closed. The emergency help line was about as useful as an ice-maker in Alaska, and I went ballistic. I didn't know what going ballistic meant exactly before this; now I know. It involves a lot of yelling, a lot of hitting pillows, and a lot of screaming.

The next day, I went to church, enjoyed fellowship, and ate lunch. I decided to start working on my new small group and began letting people know about this new thing. I've been really nervous about it; I mean, leaving where I was at and going to off to start this new group required some backbone but I was really excited about it. But for the past several weeks, it just hasn't come together and overall, I have been stressed about everything- school, work, more school, life. There just hasn't been a reprieve and now, feeling as frazzled as I'll ever be, I just wanted to hear some good news about this group. And up to that point, everybody I'd talked to had given me a big "no thank you" when I invited them. I got in touch with one more guy, one of my good friends. "Sorry, I just don't do those groups," he said. "Not interested." And thus, my heart sank into my gut as life pounded me into the ground. (P.S. for all those I got in touch with about the group, this is not an effort to guilt you into coming, although, there will be pizza, and free pizza should guilt you into coming! Just kidding, no pressure).

Life can be terrible at times. I mean, it can feel simply rotten. At this point, I was upset, tired, angry, doubtful, and confused. I got in my car and just took off, driving for nearly an hour in plain silence trying to clear my mind. Along the way, I passed friends who turned me down, a sign that said my bank was switching owners (probably why my card didn't work), and my school which was an unpleasant sight as any. I was feeling broken and beaten. Tired and sore. Alone and down.

"Why are you doing this, God?" I shouted feeling like I was God's next Job. "Why are you letting this happen to me? What did I do?"

And simply, I believe this was my answer. "Why don't you stop worrying about who or what is making you feel so down and why don't you just adapt. You can't change anything right now anyways, it will take time. Besides, it's not about what is happening to you, it's about how you respond to what's happening to you. So will you choose to overcome or succumb?"

And I drove, a little longer, in silence, pondering this very thing. Since then, life hasn't been any kinder. Circumstances aren't any better. People aren't any more forgiving.  Hopefully, those words spoken to me will encourage you through anything you may be going through. But in that moment, I figured I only had one thing to say to something like that.  I simply shrugged, sighed, and said, "Okay. I'll give it a shot." I dunno, maybe it will work.

I dunno, but, okay.

KB

Fast Frustration

I am frustrated. Being the cynic that I am, this may not be out of the ordinary to you, but to me it is. I am frustrated with how stale things have gotten lately, and I'm not just talking about spiritual or emotional things, I am talking about tangible things. I feel so distraught lately, like I am not making a difference and while I know that statistically I am, I just don't feel it inside my heart. So far, I'm sure you are thinking this is a real down and outer type of blog and I'd almost agree with you. However, don't be upset or concerned about me. I'm not going through a total meltdown, I'm just ready for more, itching for more productivity. Are you?

This past week, I visited a church in Lubbock, Texas called Church on the Rock. They seem like nice people and seem like they have a decent community there, but they are starting something today that pulled at my heartstrings and compels me to do it with them as well. They are starting a fast. A fast is simply sacrificing something in your life for advancing or bettering yourself, in this case spiritually. Protestants call it a fast. Catholics call it lent. Humanists call it streamlining your life. Self improvement gurus call it stress relief. I call it focus.

Think of something this week you wish to sacrifice for the idea of bettering yourself. This doesn't apply to just spiritual things. In fact, Biblically speaking for all my Christian readers, Mark 9:50 states we are to be at peace with one another. In fact, from Colossians 3:15 to 1 Peter 3:11 and all throughout the Bible, a call for outward peace with everybody and everything can be seen. So this call to fast can be for anything in your life; there is nothing to big or too small to deal with in life, it's all important. In fact it is sometimes the small things that ruin the big things. So starting today and for the next 40 days, join me on a "fast" of something, anything. Me? Well I doubt I could even go 3 hours without food (which is traditionally what is sacrificed in a fast), so that's out of the question. I think it will be of my time, I don't know yet. For you it may be the computer, priorities, reading material, music, or it may be food. Just make an effort to do something for the next 40 days to focus your life on what is really important again. Don't make a big deal out of it, just do it. After all, that's all a fast is, doing something for yourself, not unto others- focusing your life so that you optimize your impact on this world. Some call it self improvement. I call it clarity.

KB

Social Experiment No. 2

I'm sure you have an iPod. If you don't, you will. If you say you will never own one, you will one day say you love iPods. If you own a Zune, you will trade it in and use the cash toward an iPod. Fact is, the iPod is part of our everyday life, a facet of who we are, and an item some people use on a daily basis. On average, most people have over 2,000 songs in the song library these days. The average song length is around 4 minutes which means that a library of 2,000 songs with an average length of 4 minutes would give you 8000 minutes of songs or around 133 hours which translates to around 5 1/2 days of music, granted you play the music non-stop. That's a lot of music. I only have a mere 2 days worth of songs in my personal library. But it feels like 2 days of songs I hardly listen to.

In my music library, there are songs that I have listen to dozens of times. There are also songs I have listened to only once or twice. Some stuff on my iPod has never even been listened to. Reason is I get in these ruts where I like the same thing over and over again even though I have hundreds of songs on my iPod that I have listened to only a few times! I think about it and ask myself why I leave them on there if I don't like them. And when I put my iPod on shuffle, put the songs on random, I find myself just skipping through a horde of songs I don't listen to in order to get to the same songs I listen to all the time. But recently, I decided to try something new; I dared myself to set my playlist on random, let it run, and just see what happens. Richter once said, "Music is the poetry of the air." I certainly believe that writing is a powerful facet to society, but it is important to remember that music is just as powerful, if not more so. I like to think that the songs I listen to are like soundtracks to my life, they are a way to complement my feelings or emotions at the time being. That would be 2 whole days of music for me to feel every day.

Here is my call to you, the "social experiment" part if you will. I dare you to start your day tomorrow with your iPod on shuffle, starting out simply by listening to the first song and then trusting that God will orchestrate your iPod to play just what you need when you need that. For instance, as I was listening to my iPod one day, reminiscing about my friends Chris and Garret who like rapping to lame 1980's hip-hop songs and lo and behold, next song was a hit from the Digital Underground. Or the time when I was preparing for a speaking engagement and I was getting really nervous, and the Lord led me to listen to my iPod and the first song on shuffle was Stars by David Crowder, my favorite song in the whole world which put me at ease. It's amazing the power of song and even the irony behind it at time, and so I dare you this week to just let your iPod play, and not skip a song. See what happens. And as each day goes on, I encourage you to post what your song of the day somewhere (Facebook, desk, on this blog, etc.). May each day you live be filled with the perfect song for the perfect whether.

Today, my song is my favorites. It reminds me how God takes me and lifts me to heights I can hardly believe are possible. Beauty and redemption, undeserved- the soundtrack to my life!

Don't Bring a Quarter to a Gun Fight

As a boy, I remember seeing a man come to speak with our class during a presentation day. I loved presentation days. It meant we got to sit around and listen and even if the guy was talking about something boring, like wearing helmets on bikes or not taking candy from strangers, we got to do something besides sitting in a stuffy classroom. I couldn't have been more than 6 or 7 years old, my hair combed perfectly with a crease off to the side, my goofy smile with a few teeth missing here and there, and my strange heighth (even back then I was a sasquatch for my age). Our school was having a "western day," with everything from hay rides to lasso contests and BBQ. Like I said, though, I didn't really care a whole lot about that, I just liked that we didn't have to sit in class all day. We moved from station to station, learning all about the wild west and a bunch of other country-related stuff, of which I don't remember, with the exception of this man.

He was a tall, scrawny man with a handlebar mustache that dipped low on his chin. His hair was coarse, plastered down by his bulky, wild cowboy hat. His leather jacket covered his flanal shirt that was tucked into his starched, brown jeans. His belt buckle was huge as I recall, but none of his apparel caught my eye except for one thing. Hooked around his belt loop, clutching tightly to his hip was a silver pistol. It stole my attention as it did with all the other boys around me. We watched as he pulled it out of the thick, leather holster and raised it up in the air. We leaned forward with intense excitement as he tossed a quarter up into the air and shot the pistol, the sound of the gun clashing through the air. The coin plumeted to the earth and in the coin was a hole the size of a bullet. Right then and there, I thought guns were the coolest and I wanted to be able to do that one day. That initial shot never stopped resonating with me.

Years later, here I am shooting guns like a madman. I am somewhat of a conesure, as I am sure I have mentioned before on this blog. As a kid, my dad would take me to the range and he instilled in me a respect for guns as well as a passion for them. Today, I go to gun conventions, go to gun ranges, watch shows based on guns, speak about guns on a regular basis, and even spoke at a business/economic workshop about, you guessed it, guns! I am a little obessed, I realize this, but it's not called a passion for nothing. I consider it a gift, one area of my life that I excel in.

Ephesians 4:11-13 says this in the Message translation: "He handed out gifts of apostle, prophet, evangelist, and pastor-teacher to train Christ's followers in skilled servant work, working within Christ's body, the church, until we're all moving rhythmically and easily with each other, efficient and graceful in response to God's Son, fully mature adults, fully developed within and without, fully alive like Christ." God has given out different passions for each of us, no matter how unconventional they may be- singing, dancing, writing, speaking, selling, driving, shooting- all of which have the fascinating potential to be made into something awesome. When someone mentions "using your talents for the Kingdom of God," I often wonder what that means. How do I do that? In truth, I believe it means that you should enjoy what you do. There is a book out there called "Strength Finder 2.0" which talks about developing your strengths over developing your weakness. It reasons that using your strengths compels you to greater heights where as dealing with your weaknesses only fill you with stress. In their book Jim and Casper Go to Church, Jim Henderson and Matt Casper talk about how we often focus our spiritual life to become a one-stop-shop for God instead of using what we are gifted with, our strengths. Too often, we find people who aren't necessarily disgruntled with life, but just average. They are glazed over with indifference and filled with an absense of consideration for others. It seems that this "average" mentality is a result of not using your strengths and thus not doing what you enjoy on a day to day basis. They simply feel unfulfilled, a feeling Christians often feel in their walk. We like to dwell in our weaknesses, but in 2 Corinthians 12:10 God assures us that "When you are weak, I am strong." Life is covered, whether you are struggling or sailing, so why not sail?

My point is about finding your strengths through finding your inspiration. We cannot be everything at once. We cannot be a one-stop-shop for everybody's needs, but we often try to solve the world's problems as a one man band. One of my strengths is shooting, and it was a strength I discovered by inspiration. Likewise, we each have an intergral part in the kingdom to play, a place we each have to stand in the body, but I doubt we will find that place if we don't have our inspiration. Like DaVinci had his board to paint a Mona Lisa, like VanGough had his starry night to gaze upon, so the Master Artist has us to shape and mold-- clay in the potter's hands. So my prayer this week is that you find your inspiration from the Father much like I found my inspiration from the man at my school. May you sit at his feet and listen with intense excitement at his words and may they encourage you to strive for higher places.

As for the inspiration in my life, the funny thing was, the coin already had a hole in it. 7 year old kids don't realize that a man can't just shoot a loaded gun on a school campus so he used blanks and a pre-shot quarter. It didn't stop me though and I doubt that if I knew that back then, I would be any less impressed.

KB