Profound Moments

Every once in a while you have to mark a moment that is profound. This last week was just one of the times. For those of you who know me, I love the San Jose Sharks in the NHL. I watch about sixty games a year on tv and try to catch at least three games a year in person.

But the reality is that hockey is an East Coast/Canada thing. Getting press on ESPN is next to impossible. Unless you're Detroit, New Jersey, Boston, or any Canada team, good luck getting some love.

About five years ago, ESPN started listing power rankings for teams in the NHL. The Sharks, no matter how good they were were usually about six to ten spots below what they should have been. Last year for example, the Sharks had the best record post the Thornton trade. Yet they got no love, finding themselves no better than 12 before the guys running the rankings forgot to post anymore with three weeks to go.

Well this week the Sharks found themselves at the top of the list. WOW! Thanks ESPN

Zags Come Up Big Time

My beloved Zags pull a huge upset over #2 ranked North Carolina, scoring big time and showing the world that they are for real...AGAIN.

What I Am Thankful For

This morning I'm in my pajamas watching the Macy's Day parade with my children, sipping coffee, and doing nothing. It is not hard for me to be aware of my blessings. I am grateful for my Father's hand in my life. I sense his peace in my life in a really great way. I am thankful for my family, and all of the cliche things people usually say. But a cliche is a cliche because it it said so many times. My family is healthy. A good friend of mine just watched his daughter go through Cancer. I hope I never have to go through that. I am thankful that I have work. My new career with Thrive Ministries is something I wake up to and want to do. I am grateful that I have been given opportunity, and hope to make a better world possible for my children and those in the world. I am thankful that I have discovered faith and hope and love. I am thankful that my eyes have been opened to a world needing these things. I am thankful that I have been given an opportunity to love my neighbor.

Blessings to you all on this Thanksgiving.

The Bracelet

Yesterday I was in line to get a cup of coffee and I saw a man with a bunch of rubber bracelets. You know the kind Lance Armstrong started with his Livestrong campaign. I thought Livestrong was a brilliant idea. Then everyone had them. They were everywhere, which is simply a testimony to how great the idea was.

I even got one. It said "courage" on it. I actually got it from Taco Bell for 25 cents from a vending machine. My son, who is four always gets two quarters when we go to Taco Bell and he didn't have a clue what it was. He just knew it wasn't the Ninja guy he wanted. So he gave it to me. I wore it for a while because I like what it meant. I liked being reminded of the idea of courage. Unfortunately it was cheap (what do you expect for a quarter) and broke after about a month. I threw it away and didn't think about it for a while.

And then a good friend of mine gave me a ONE bracelet. I believe in the One Campaign and what they are doing for social justice and fighting poverty. The ONE bracelets are made really well and they are white. I put it on and that was that.

So yesterday when I saw this guy in line I began to think of why I wear the bracelet. It has now been over 9 months that I've had it on and I have thought about the question before. Did I wear it because I wanted to make people aware of ONE.org? Yeah, a little. Did I wear it because it makes a cool statement about who I am? Not really. Did I wear it because it looks cool and everyone is doing it? No.

I wear it because it reminds me that we are part of the human race. We are God's creation first, connected together. I am called to love and be loved in community. The bracelet reminds me of that. It reminds me to remember those less fortunate than myself. It reminds me to love my neighbor and to be part of the solution.

That's why I wear the bracelet.

Keep Congress Honest

I tend to be very careful with how I spend my time in activities that aren't close to home, geographically. I only support two organizations with my time at this point, which could change. The first is Oxfam, and their Fair Trade Campaign. I drink a lot of coffee and have worked on their campaign in the past. Its very important that we don't kill the local farmers around the world. Its easy to do.



The second organization is the One Campaign. I believe in what Bono is doing to push us as a human race to find the best in us by loving our brother who is destitute and in poverty. These are God's children too. Last year, at the G8 summit, world leaders committed to fighting poverty on a global scale by funding initiatives to attack the problem. So far their track record is poor at best, but at this years G8 summit, they recommitted to the solving the problem.

You can help. Simple click here to sign up for a group to meet your congressional leader and let them know we have to keep our commitments to the poor and the oppressed. This is a grassroots campaign to get the word out that we believe in reaching the world with a redemptive touch and meeting people basics needs.

Thank you for helping.

When Death Knocks On Your Door

I have been part of a men's spiritual development group for almost four years now. I would consider what we do to be groundbreaking in nature because we have been able to really create a "real" environment for becoming what God has designed us to be. The group is called Band of Brothers and has generated a tremendously interesting gossip (good and bad) because we remained exclusive for so long and really good things happened within the group.

When we started we knew something good was happening. Men were able to really share their hearts, learn to make commitments, dive into what it means to love and make commitments. So much of what we did felt like pioneering in a way. We were sort of discovering our hearts and souls. We all knew it was something special.

But something happened at about the three year period. The group got restless in a way that created a change in the way men approached the group. When it first happened I got mad to be honest. I felt like the men in the group didn't care. I tried to fix things using my position of leadership with the group, but it didn't work. Something was definitely wrong. It wasn't that the guys didn't care. They just stopped coming as much. And for an intentional group based upon a covenant, when a guy doesn't show up it is a big deal. But for a lot of men the reason for not being there became trivial. And no one seemed to really care anymore.

At the beginning of the journey we knew we had good food for men interested in the journey to the heart. We often talked about how long we would stay a closed group and when the journey would end in it present form. During the first year, I mentioned the idea of three years to guys, and for some this seemed unreasonably long. We needed to split and grow. I held onto the three years because this was Jesus' model. Why three years? I don't know. It just was.

Well it just so happens that at the three year mark, guys started getting restless. Funny how that works. We tried to find a way to make it work but something was consistently wrong. In the first three years, guys missing the group was the exception. After that, it was the norm. We tried to solve the problem by bringing in new guys, but after review, I think we cheated the new guys of the real experience of their own group. And it didn't solve the problem.

So last night we finally did it. We had THE conversation. We talked about the group ending in its current form and guys stepping into leadership roles for new groups. The idea did scare some of the guys, but I think everyone agreed that real maturity, real growth in the journey meant stepping into the next phase of the journey.

And for my sake, I was glad that it was broached by someone other than me. I had been feeling it for at least four months about dropping out. I struggled with this because I didn't want to leave what we were doing, but I didn't want how we were doing it anymore. I was no longer in leadership and it would be easy to leave. But just dropping out would hurt. It just didn't seem right. I wanted to leave well. Now we were talking about ending the group. It seemed so much like a divine conversation.

And in some ways, this conversation was our's to have. We had pioneered the group and it was up to us to figure out if there was an end to the process. Actually the end ended up being a way station because if we close the group, up to five new groups could start.

I thought a lot about what the disciples must have felt like the day Jesus died. "What do you mean it is over? You can't die. It is not supposed to be like this." But if he didn't die, I wonder if they would have ever taken the next step into maturity and their own growth.

It is funny when you really look at death. To a great extent it is so much a natural part of the order of the world. Death does come in the form of winter, and life is renewed out of death in the spring. It is inevitable that the group must die. But the reality is that I want to hold onto what was. It became clear last night that if I do I will be missing out on what can be. That's scary to a certain extent. I want what I know, but if I really want the real me I have to let that go.

I love my brothers and have loved the journey as hard as it has been. But now it is time to move on. What the path looks like, I don't know. But I'm ready to find out.

Here we go.

Trusting Days

I just spent Easter week on a road trip with my family. The purpose of the trip was to take a vacation, see the sights and end up in Spokane to evaluate the idea of moving there for my PhD. The trip was awesome to say the least. An RV can be a daunting experience, cramped, and never enough time out of the cabin but this was not the case for us. For the first 9 of the 11 days we enjoyed awesome weather that allowed us to get out and see the sites. Seattle was beautiful and so was Coeur D'Alene.

But then there was that little stop in Spokane. Remember I have nothing against Spokane. I am currently attending Gonzaga but through the online program. I went there in January for my residency requirement and I had a lot of fun. But, I didn't really get to see anything outside of the school. My hotel was right next to downtown and the River Park is beautiful, even in the winter.

As we drove into Spokane, we made our way to the school. I wanted to show my family where I was attending and let them get a first taste of the city. It was nice and I felt like I was really enjoying being back in school. It was fun showing off my school to my children. Students were out in the courtyard practicing rugby and the weather was nice. It was a good start.

But then I made the mistake of driving to our RV Park which was not in the best of neighborhoods. We drove down 3rd street and I could instantly tell my wife was not liking the city. I have three kids and security is important to her, as its important to any parent. And she was not secure. The RV Park was actually nice and we met some great people, but as we drove around town I could see my dream of getting my Ph.D. at Gonzaga go down the tubes.

See the point of this story is not that Spokane is a bad city, or that the trip turned bad. Both of those are untrue. Spokane is a great city. A lot of people have told me that it is awesome, and I have to admit we only saw much of the city center. We drove to South Hill to look at houses, and it reminded me of Willow Glen in San Jose about twenty years ago. Spokane is a sleepy little town and I think it wants to be that way.

The point of this story is that as we drove towards Coeur D'Alene the next day, it was as if I was driving away from what I had expected my future to be. I knew that my wife was not into the idea of moving there. As we spoke over the next couple of days, she confirmed this. Something inside of her just couldn't do it. She had become aware over the drive how far she would be from family and she needed certain things to be able to make the move. Spokane just wasn't it.

I wrestled with the emotions that emerge when a dream I had lived with for several months went traveling in a different direction. I had built a story, told my friends, made commitments, looked for a job. This was supposed to be my direction and here it was going some place I didn't expect.

And then it dawned on me that I had narrowed my view. I had assumed that Spokane was the end when it quite possibly wasn't. I haven't ruled out Spokane, but the likelihood is less so since the trip. As I watched my future go a different direction I realized that it was possible that my Father had other plans for me.

I had to make a decision at that moment to do one of two things. I could fight it and try and talk my wife into Spokane, but it occurred to me that this would be an uphill fight and my future wouldn't be there with me. Or, I could let go of my perception and follow my future in a different direction.

I don't believe that I won't get another degree, or my Ph.D. As I step back and lean towards a new direction I realize that as in the past, my Father may have something better in mind.

So what was the point of the Spokane exercise then. Why get all geared up and send me in that direction. I believe what it did was get me to think outside of my box and cause me to see where my heart wanted to go. I want to find some blend of teaching, education, spiritual development, and business.

These are trusting days, and as I ponder a new direction, I'm not scared. I'm very aware for the first time, that following my Father means going in directions that are unfamiliar, but ultimately they will be fulfilling to my heart. I know now that he really does love me. I know that he has something better for me. And if I don't let that go, I'll miss what is perfect for me.

Here we go!!

The Least Of These

I think I saw Jesus today.

I'm traveling this week with my family up the West Coast on a family trip. We're taking a RV for the first time, hitting some great spots. Ashland has great food and a wonderful downtown. Believe the waitress when she tries to sell you a bottle of Medford wine over a cheaper Napa brand. Nice wine.

Today we spent the entire day visiting Seattle. We saw the Space Needle, the Pike's Place Market, but we missed the fish throwers. The immigration rally was taking place downtown and made for a really bad traffic flow. (Note to self: Next time join the rally or stay the hell away.)

As we walked towards the fish market, a woman named Lenora walked up to me. She was obviously homeless and didn't have any shoes on. She tried to sell me a story on how she needed money for a key deposit for the shelter. I didn't really need a story. I knew it was most likely a lie, but it didn't matter. This was my moment to meet Lenora.

I don't like to think about giving to the homeless. What I mean by that is I want to have my hand on my wallet ready to give before they ask. I want this for my own soul. I want to give because in giving I validate myself. In recognizing Lenora's dignity, I lift my own.

I didn't really let her finish her story and I just felt like $20 was the right answer. I don't know how to explain that other than I just went with my heart and gut and what felt right at the moment. I've given to homeless people before but something was different this time. I looked into my wallet and then went to the local coffee house to get some change. I bought a coffee and then went back to Lenora. I handed her a twenty and then asked her if she wanted the coffee. She smiled at me as though I had saved the world that day. Believe it or not the coffee meant more to her than the money at the moment.

I asked her if she like cream or sugar and she did, so I took the coffee back and got it for her. I found out that most coffee establishments in Seattle won't allow the homeless in unless they have shoes. Lenora didn't. I went back and got her cream and Equal, four packets.

While I was gone, Lenora talked with my children and was deeply gracious to them. She made my son laugh and complimented him on his Spiderman skills, which he loved. I returned and handed her the coffee just the way she liked it.

I introduced her to my family and they all were gracious to her. Lenora really didn't know how to act. I left and she was beaming.

I recount this story because I recognized something in the giving that I had never seen before. In giving her money, I was satisfying a present need in her. She may have been telling the truth about the key deposit. Or she may have been waiting for her next heroin dose. I'll never know. But in just giving money, and walking on, I have missed something in the giving.

What I do know is that when I stopped and served her, got her coffee, went back for cream and sugar, she lit up. My recognition of her dignity was infinitely more valuable to her, represented in the simple cup of coffee. As I walked away with my family, she held onto it as though it were gold. It had become a symbol that she was still valuable in this world.

The experience made me wonder, no realize, that the heart can still be touched with love. It made me question our methods of dealing with the homeless and that our first response should be to restore the dignity. It made me realize that there is a human being, deeply valued on the other end of the $20. And when I've done my giving, and walked on by, I've missed the real gift in giving.

I want to thank Lenora for helping me see that.

Roto Players Will Know

For anyone who has ever played Rotisserie baseball you know that Opening Day is a sacred moment. Its that first real day when you get to see how smart you were on draft day, make ridiculous assumptions about your team and go into a frenzy about that one player you drafted for 37 dollars and sucked it up big time. I wrote this fun email to my league in response to those feelings. Because isn't this what we're all thinking?

Message: It's time to dump.

After yesterday, it has become very clear to me that I can't make a run at the title so I'm starting early this year. It's time to dump. I know. I know. Your saying "what?" It April. But think about it. You have to start some time. Why not now? If I dump now, I'm sure to get ahead of the game and every other player who wondered why the guy who he spent 37 dollars on went 0-4 or had a 7.34 ERA.

If you really think about it, its easy at this point in the season to still get you to focus on last season stats before my star player goes into stats hell or blows out his arm and becomes untradeable. I know, I'm a forward thinker.

And...I won't have to spend endless hours this season looking at seventeen different roto services trying to find that one key player that will turn my team into a contender. Which makes me really wonder what I do on Saturday mornings while my lawn grows two feet tall. Damn, is it spring already?

But still...it's April. I know. But think about all the time I'm saving that I could be spending with my kids. Think about all the time I could be working on the next great American novel that I've been thinking about for at least fifteen years. Think about all the conversations I won't have to have as my wife tries to pull me away from the computer to come to bed, but I won't because the waiver deadline is coming up.

You see, the truth of the matter is, I'm a good roto player, but I'm not a great roto player. The best I've done is 2nd, and that was 9 years ago. I know Roloff is not with us this year and that increases my chances about 3% but I don't know if I'm willing to give it a shot anymore. I've decided it time to come to my senses and work towards next years draft.

So, everyone's available. Send all offers.

Jonathan

PS: Just in case you were really wondering, yes this was a joke.

Isn't baseball great?

Love Wins

I have a project that I work on called Vacation Rentals America. It is a vacation rental listing service. It is a fun project and I don't make money on it. It was meant to be for profit but is still in incubation mode. I don't have to do much to support it and I hope that it sprouts someday.

To build the database of rentals I've given away free listings for new customers. They can use a coupon to add the property for free. Sometimes they don't add the listing and I do it for them as a service. It is no big deal.

Yesterday I added a credit for a customer who had signed up but didn't add his property. I added the credit for him so he could then add his information. The process is very easy and usually takes customers 10-20 minutes. The credit automatically notifies him that he can add his information. It's simple.

I got this email back from him.

"I have advertised my condo on many different sites. Your site has been designed by a moron. It is the most unnecessarily complicated and difficult site to create an ad. If I were you I would shut down immediately for you have no chance of making a success. Also shoot your web site designer. Remove me from your mailing list, etc."

Honestly my first reaction was surprise. I have received numerous emails from customers telling me they love the site, the process is easy, and the graphics are great. I thought about sending him a nasty letter, but then it hit me. This guy is hurting. He's probably having a bad day and my auto-email caught him at his worst moment. He tried to get on my site, didn 't understand something and then got frustrated. I sent him back this email.

"(Name Withheld), You must have had a bad day to write something like this. Hope it gets better for you. We've deleted your account. Best wishes. Jonathan"

I didn't expect to hear from him again. But then I got this reply from him today.

"My day has been fine. The truth hurts,eh?"

I was quietly stunned. I realized that to send the first email, he had to spend the time to say what he did. I replied back to him letting him know that we had fulfilled his request. That should have been the end of it. But then he came back at me a second time, with as much spite as the first. I just couldn't help feeling sorry for this guy. To expend that kind of negative energy a person really has to be lost.

I thought about my response all day. I thought about sending him some awful response telling him to "get lost" but not in such kind words. But then I realized that Love Wins. It really does. He just didn't get the memo. And if I really believed that I would respond with my own medicine, which was love.

I finally sent him back a response. It said very simply, "Love Wins."

I hope he stops and really reads it. I also hope I can keep saying it. Because I believe it.

Do you?

The Father's Love

This morning I woke up to my son's feet in my back. Whenever my wife is out of town my son likes to sleep in my bed and he always sleeps sideways. He has to be touching me as if I'm his comfort blanket. He woke up before me and began sitting on top of me telling me he wanted to go downstairs for juice and his favorite Spiderman show. I got up thinking this morning was just like any other. It almost wasn't.

My two daughters were still sleeping, so I thought, and I wanted to close their doors so the sound of the television wouldn't wake them up. Amber was fast asleep so I closed her door. I looked in McKenna's room and she wasn't there. I assumed she was downstairs already.

Carter and I walked downstairs and I proceeded to pour him his juice and put on Spiderman. He tucked himself under the blanket and watched his favorite show. But then I realized that McKenna wasn't downstairs. I assumed she was in the bathroom or something. No big deal.

I went upstairs to find her and checked her room again. I had that feeling inside of me that she had to be somewhere and there was no worry, at this point. When I checked her room she wasn't there. I checked my room to see if she had crawled into my bed, which she has done before. She wasn't there. I tried not to let the fear get to me, except there was one important fact I was suddenly aware of. I had not locked the doors to the back door last night. I rationalized the fear with the realization that if someone entered the house during the night, Kipper, my dog would have barked instantly. He just does that.

I quickly ran around the house checking everywhere. I ran outside. I checked the back, the front, the garage, everywhere. And then for that one split second it hit me. What would it mean to lose my daughter? What would it mean to me not to have her by my side? The sudden thought gripped me. I was not ready for that.

I continued to check the house, now looking in the cupboards, crevices, and under the beds. Amber was now awake and I didn't want to scare her but I was now calling out McKenna's name. She didn't answer. I didn't like the fear.

Amber began to help me but as I checked each little crack in the house, in the showers, places we had played hide and go seek, I couldn't help but process what it would mean to lose my daughter.

Then I went back into her room and there she was, in her bed. The fear left me, now rushes of joy swept into my heart. She was found. I think she was playing an April Fool's joke on me, not realizing it was the 2nd of April. I held her for a minute or two allowing the fear to leave me.

After thinking about it, I was struck by the thought of how God must feel when we leave him. When we choose to walk away into the hands of the world. I was aware of the lost coin, the lose sheep, and the Prodigal Son. How the Father must have felt to lose his precious child. I realized that there is no way he could ever NOT miss us. There is no way his heart could do anything but grieve. That is the way a Father is built. To love his child.

It also made me realize that my Father could never not love me. There was no way I could not love McKenna. It's just not possible. I'm just not built that way. Maybe my Father was trying to teach me that he loves me more than I give him credit for. Thanks You Father.

House Party - Oxfam Style

I got this email from Brian Rawson who works at Oxfam, which you really should know more about. If you can help, click on the link below.

Jonathan,

Because of your experience volunteering with us, I am writing to offer an exciting and powerful way you can help Make Trade Fair without even leaving your home – simply by getting a few friends together to write letters. From April 16 – 22 Oxfam supporters will be hosting house parties in targeted Congressional districts across the country. House parties will give your guests the opportunity to draft hand-written letters to their US Senators and Representative urging them to oppose the US-Peru Free Trade Agreement (FTA). We’ve found that personalized letters are one of the most effective ways to influence your elected officials.

On the heels of the Central American Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA), the United States recently negotiated a similar free trade agreement with Peru, a developing country in South America where over half of the population lives in poverty. If the US-Peru FTA is passed by Congress it would force Peru to open its markets to subsidized agricultural imports, destroying the market for local small-scale farmers. It would also limit people’s access to affordable, life-saving medicines. And it would prevent the Peruvian government from making sure that foreign investments promote local development.

The US-Peru FTA can be defeated, but we urgently need your help! Your elected officials hold the key, but they need to hear from enough voters like you. Amplify your voice by hosting a Make Trade Fair House Party during the week of April 16 - 22. We will provide posters, talking points and other materials to make this a fun and easy way to build community while making a difference in the lives of millions Peruvians living in poverty.

Again, as one of Oxfam’s most engaged supporters we need your help. Oxfam will provide almost everything you’ll need to plan and host a successful party—including my direct and personal support. Register today to host a house party by filling out a simple form at, www.oaaf.org/houseparties.

Please let me know if you if you have any questions. Thank you for all you have done and continue to do to Make Trade Fair! Together, we can end poverty.

Sincerely,

Brian Rawson

My Beloved

Have you ever noticed those moments in your life when there is more to learn than you realize. Last night was one of those moments. I am currently attending Gonzaga for my Master's in Organizational Leadership and unless you live in the remote outskirts of Saskatoon Canada and don't read the newspaper, you've probably heard about my beloved Zags. They are the little guy representing the West Coast in the March Madness tourney. Adam Morrison is up for player of the year honors and is the leading scorer in the nation.

Several pundits picked the Zags to win the Oakland bracket and I agreed with them. I honestly thought it was possible. They were well coached, had a well rounded team, and could score on anyone. They were a great team.

So if you watched it last night, you saw that they lost literally in the last seconds of the game to UCLA. It was like someone pulling the rug out from under you. They had been leading by as much as 17 points during the game and by 10 points with four minutes left. It was agonizing to watch.

So where does the learning come from? Well, I had the pleasure of living at USC during college. It was an awesome experience, so I consider myself a fan of USC as well. If you remember, USC had the team of the century this year in football. The run up to the Rose Bowl was the most anticipated game in the last 50 years of college football. And if you remember the game, you'll remember that USC was winning the game. All they had to do was stop Texas from scoring on one last play. Several times they could have stopped Vince Young and didn't. Texas won.

On both occasions I was standing for most of the game. I can't sit for moments like these. They are too much fun and I like to scream, punch, kick, and just be an everloving fan during the event. My wife laughs at me because its like I'm at the game.

As I'm watching the Zags play, with minutes left and UCLA making a run, I had one of those feelings in the pit of my stomach that I was watching the USC game all over again. And with nine seconds left UCLA steals the ball and scores. I remembered the exact same feeling watching my team go down in flames. Adam Morrison fell to his knees and cried. Defeat was at hand.

As I stood there with the game over, I couldn't help but realize that I had experienced the same thing over again. It was the moment in my life when I was on the losing end of the game. My beloved had lost and I was left to deal with the emotions and judgments that come with losing. I don't like losing but I couldn't help but be immediately aware of something really important. Losing did not define me.

I don't know why I thought this. Maybe because I felt like I had experienced this before. My beloved team had lost and I couldn't help but feel for Morrison and Batista and all the guys. I kept thinking about all the things in life that can define who we think we are and this could be one of them. The look on Morrison's face was pure agony and despair.

I was also aware of how many times I had let losing or failure define who I was. I think the thing that caught my attention was that I was aware that I was still who I was, a whole person.

Love has a way of doing that to you. It reminds you that life's experiences don't define you. Who I am as a child of God does. It's funny that my realization of this came during a basketball game. It seems so trivial. But if you're like me, really wanting to make life whole, these moments are not trivial. They are the experiences that make my journey so rich.

So here's to making good out of bad. Maybe Morrison will come back for his senior year and we'll go all the way. Go Zags.

Honesty

I was listening to an old Mp3 of one of my mentors. He was talking about the Kingdom of Heaven breaking into our hearts, and how God prepared the way through John who called out "repent". He has this really cool discussion about what repent means and how it is the doorway to the Kingdom. I've heard the sermon at least twelve times, so my iTunes says.

But tonight I heard something new, which you hope happens after listening to something twelve times or you feel like you've heard it before. He kept talking about honesty and how the Kingdom came crashing in to the hearts in his community when they got honest.

Then it hit me. Honesty is the doorway. To repent means essentially to turn around, but what John was trying to communicate was that if I really want the Kingdom of God to break into my heart in a real way, in a fresh way that transforms my life, I have to first get honest with myself. I have to be honest about what's really in my life and that I need God.

This was a great reframing for me because I've always thought of repentance as this bad thing, where I have to get down on my knees and grovel to God, "I'm not worthy", like some Saturday Night Live skit. But what he was saying was different. I just have to get honest with myself. I just have to get honest with God.

And isn't this what I'm really after in the first place, a place to get honest. I'm so tired of the b.s. that I long for a place to be real. I long for a place to really communicate and share what is on my heart.

Thank you Rick.

The Love Of The Father

Yesterday I had lunch at Rubio's, which is a great place for shrimp tacos, but that's another story. I was standing in line waiting to order. Behind me, in walked two young boys about 5 and 7. They had smiles on their faces and they sat down in a booth just three feet away from me. Their father came up behind me and was waiting to order as well.

The boys were very happy and were laughing with each other. Then the younger boy turned to his father and said, "I want you to sit by me."

The father replied, "Of course." The boy's face lit up as though he had just won first prize in a school race or something.

Then his older brother stood up and declared, "I want you to sit by me too."

The father just smiled and said, "Of course I will sit next to you too."

What struck me about this incident was how much the father's love brought joy to the boys. They fed off the love of their father. He was their hero. It honestly made me think about how much a father's love creates such an important foundation in our lives. It reminded me of how much my Heavenly Father loves me. I want to feed off of that and allow it to transform my life in a way that when people see me they see my hero.

Because love is that good.

The coolest speech I ever heard.

If you've never heard this speech given by Martin Luther King, Jr. your missing out. You can check it out here. Its really cool to hear his voice in the presentation.

You can also read it here:

If you want to be important, wonderful
If you want to be recognized, wonderful
If you want to be great, wonderful
But recognize that he who is greatest among shall be your servant.
That's the new definition of greatest.

This morning the thing that I like about it:
by giving that definition of greatness
it means that everybody can be great.
Because everybody can serve.

You don't have to have a college degree to serve.
You don't have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve.
You don't have to know about Plato and Aristotle to serve.
You dont' have to know Einstein's theory of relativity to serve.
You don't have to know the second theory of thermodynamics in Physics to serve.

You only need a heart full of grace,
A soul generated by love.

You can be that servant.

Copyright, From the King Center

How cool is that.

Growing Up

Over the last several days I have been having conversations with people about my journey. Significant people I trust. Each of these conversations has been a great dialog that has allowed me to process my experience with someone else.

A friend of mine called me back after our conversation to say that he has noticed a significant change in my personality and demeanor. I was, to say, validated. I have been walking through this journey of love with eyes wide open, not sure if anyone has noticed. Some people have said things, others have not. I'm not worried.

But my friend was intrigued by my change. He asked me what had been the catalyst, or reason for the change. I know my mom's death had something to do with it. But this would be limiting to say it was the defining thing. Death does have a way of speaking to us, but I know that it was not the only thing. I believe it was a lot of things.

But one event sticks out in my mind. I was in the shower about six weeks ago when I felt like God was asking to grow up. I'm 38 and I've been studying the faith journey for at least 12 years, if not longer. I was stunned to say the least. As I pondered the question, I realized that it was that time. In order for me to fully mature in love, I had to let go of my wounded identity. I had to let go of who I was. And I did, right there in the shower.

The unique thing about this was that it wasn't hard. Actually I've been processing this for as long as I can remember. But now I was willing to let it go. I think I was just ready.

The funny thing is that when I did, it was awesome. It felt like a rebirth. I liken it to letting go of a thousand pound weight. My burden was light again. I now ask myself why I had waited so long to embrace who I was becoming as a mature person of faith. I guess I was just ready.

My friend shared with me a really great observation. He told me of the story of the blind man at the pool, which I've heard many times.

6When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, "Do you want to get well?" 7"Sir," the invalid replied, "I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me."

My friend made an interesting observation about the blind man. Instead of responding "Yes, I want to get well," which was the question, he makes an excuse. Pow it hit me, upside the head like a knockout punch. How many times have I made excuses rather than just saying, "Yes, I want to get well."

To be honest, the guy reminded me of myself. When it really came to change, I didn't want to. It's easier to live in the identity of wounded person because my wounds provided me with an excuse for my humanity. I was just doing what I was supposed to.

I'm actually glad I made the choice to grow up. I like this place better. I don't want to sit on the mat anymore and make excuses. I want to love. I want to feel his presence in my life, joy, healing, purpose and love. The reality is that these were not prevailing traits of my life before my decision to grow up.

When I turn to my son and I see a four year old boy, I shudder to think of him growing up physically but never maturing beyond four years old. It would crush me if he were stunted in this age, as fun, and charming, and great as it is right now. I want him to grow up and become who God designed him to really be. To live valiantly, to love deeply, to pursue his purpose with passionate resolve. I just don't think he can become this person as a four year old.

It's hard to grow up. Not in a literal sense. Our bodies biological process happens regardless of our choice. I speaking of our maturity of heart. When wounds cripple us, it becomes something that takes courage to really step into. I want that for me, for my son, for those I come in contact with. Why? Because I believe that it is in maturity of heart that we love deeply, which is the fully expression of who we are as humans.

And I want to become that person. Do you?

Rent

Today I watched the movie "Rent". I saw the stage play about five years ago in San Francisco, and I remember being impacted by it. But as I rented the movie, I could not remember exactly why. This time something was different. I could see what the play was about. Love.

"You'll never share real love until you love yourself. I should know." (Roger, from Rent)

This hit me. The movie made me realize how much I have missed out on real love in my life. Don't get me wrong. I have been loved by many. But I have not loved the way my heart knows I can. And more importantly, I didn't love myself. This is a profound awakening for me about how much I missed out on loving people. It is in this simple act that I am made complete. It is the purpose for which I was born. It is the marrow of my bone, and the beat of my heart.

I know why I didn't love. Because I didn't love myself. I was wounded. I suffered the crushing effects of divorce in my family and I went inward, lost in my childhood interpretations of my own value. I had a father who was wounded as well. I never doubted his love but he didn't know how to show me what it meant to be whole. He knew how to play cards with me. Gin was our favorite. I don't blame him.

I didn't know how to love myself. I didn't know how to accept who I was and be okay with my flaws, to laugh at their silliness and enjoy life. Because of this, I didn't know how to love others. That is until love broke into my heart.

Learning to love begins with love in our own heart. It begins by finding our own dignity and value. It begins by recognizing who we are as children of God and embracing the deep, deep significance of this once thing. We are designed to love...but we have to be loved first.

Learning to love is a rich experience. I cry more now as I see and recognize the beauty around me. I used to not cry. Not because I didn't want to but because I believe my heart was closed to seeing the beauty within everyone around me.

My favorite scene is the Aids group where they sing, Will I. It is a profound recognition of the moment when they are aware of their brokeness and their need for each other. In this moment, they find their own dignity and hold tight to the moment when they need it most.

I love Rent. It's a beautiful story about loving each other, holding onto the love and not letting it go. Make sure you watch it.

The Economics of Love

I just had a really great conversation with a guy who is struggling to figure out what it means to love his neighbor. He's picked a family in his neighborhood and is looking for ways to just love them. His first experience came last week when the mother got sick and his wife brought them chicken soup. A simple act.

The following week she heard the doorbell ring and it was the neighbor's wife with a bottle of wine in her hand. The simple act of love had touched them in a really great way, but it had also created a subtle expectation of obligation. The wine released them from that obligation. Not wanting to be rude, my friend's wife accepted the bottle, even though it wasn't why she did it.

Which brings me to my point. In every act of love their is this intrinsic possibility of it being an economic exchange. We give and then someone gives back. It's a nice process, and in some ways contributes to community but can quickly become political. When it does, it leads to a subtle questioning of expectation. The next time she does something, is a bottle of wine expected? This is the quandary.

I cannot tell you how many times someone had said, "Let me get this one, you got the last one." People don't like obligation, and love creates an obligation of sorts. And we don't like obligation.

Jesus posed a very different way. He essentially said, "give without them knowing it." I am just now beginning to understand why. When we give without someone knowing it, we remove the economic exchange. We reduce it to a blessing from above.

I recently watched a friend process a gift that was given to him blindly. In some respects, he couldn't handle it. He spent twenty minutes trying to figure out who did it, and why they would do that. He coudln't handle the obligation and wanted to get rid of it. He realized that his obligation was now to God, and this created a deeper obligation. In the end, he couldn't help but realize it was love. He knew in his heart that those who love give without an expectation of return. He was grateful, but it really caught his attention.

The best part about this is that when we do give blindly, God promises to reward us. I used to think that God would save the reward for when we get to heaven, which kind of created this bank of extention forty or fifty years out. It seemed to steal the juice out of it. I liked the idea of God rewarding me but why wait so long. Now I'm not so sure that's the way it happens. I now believe, through several experiences, that God gives to us in the moment. The primary gift is joy in recognizing what we are created to do in this life, love.

I like that recognition. I like seeing joy in my life. I feel in those moments, the real connection to what I am here for. As God said in Genesis after reflecting, "It is so very good."

Sunflowers

I'm reading The Sunflower, by Simon Wiesenthal. It is a fascinating discussion about the concept of forgiveness, written by Wiesenthal some fifteen years after the holocaust. I am truly amazed by this book for its depth of conversation about such an important topic. I read it in several sittings because it is so deep.

The story recounts Wiesenthal's experience with a Nazi soldier who asks for forgiveness for a murder of another person. Wiesenthal remained silent and the officer died the next day. But what was interesting is that Wiesenthal was not able to let it go. The question haunted him, and thus lead to the book. About forty philosophers, poets, rabbis and scholars contemplate his question. Different faiths are present in this conversation, Judaism, Christian, Buddhist, and Atheist.

As a Christian I wrestle with this question deeply. My wounds sometimes resound in my life in a way that shouts the incompleteness of my soul. I wish to be rid of these infirmities. They seem to be a weight that my heart cannot let go of. But when I do let go, the joy in my heart affirms to me that forgiveness is the right path.

The book presents two obvious differences in the Jewish and Christian faiths. The Jewish scholars value justice and morality and are thus inclined not to forgive, for many different reasons. The Christians and the Buddhists recount Jesus' commandment and are inclined to forgive. What I was left with were more questions. I kept screaming to myself, "But why could Wiesenthal not find resolution?"

What I took away from this reading was an awareness and affirmation that we are designed for love. Wiesenthal never walked away complete. It seemed like a divine appointment for Wiesenthal. Is it possible that Wiesenthal was wrestling with his own heart desire for completeness, which was found in the forgiveness?

Which lead me to other questions. Isn't the greatest act of our humanity, or expression of our soul, the response of rescuing the souls of those lost and revealing to them their own humanity, their worth, and their dignity? The soldier was this emobidment. Isn't forgiveness one of the defining vehicles for this rescue, where love is at its most present? Isn't the human soul's greatest work to love, and forgiveness is that love in its strongest form.

I felt deep sorrow for those who were involved in the holocaust, Jew, Nazi, bystander. What seems apparent is the damage to every soul involved, as evidenced by all parties in the book. We were not meant for atrocities of any kind. May they all find forgiveness.

Breaking Into My Heart

There are times in my life when I have stopped the daily routine, looked backwards and taken stock of my life. I'm in one of those periods right now. I evaluating the realities in my life and I'm seeing something special. I realize that I have allowed love to break into my heart.

How do I know this? Well, I can feel it. I can feel love inside my heart for the first time in a long while. A love that is divine, telling me that I am good, that I am made for something, that I am his child. It is a love that has allowed me to really take a step outside of myself and realize that I am designed to love.

Although it may seem a simple concept, for me it has been the mysterious part of the journey. I have danced around it, taught it, wrote about it, but I've always had a thin protective coating around it so it couldn't truly get to me. I hadn't allowed God's love to fully penetrate my heart.

The most subtle but obvious change has been the ability to laugh, about just about anything. I find myself enjoying life in ways that seem only distant memories of better times. I find myself enjoying other people, where I wouldn't have before. It is as though I have seen with new eyes, and the picture is good.

Rick McKinley, a gentleman I consider a mentor, even though he doesn't know it, talks often about the Kingdom of God breaking into someone. As I embrace this happening, I realize that it is He, not me, that is doing the work. He is breaking into my heart. He is restoring my soul.

The reality is that I am a self conscious person or that I am aware of my own self. For too long this has ruled my life. I have tried too long to fit in and be the right person. This is simply the desire for love. But I have looked to long to the world to love me, when His love has been there all along.

Which leads me to the question of why I could not see it? Why was this simple fact so hidden? In hindsight, I believe once I allowed love to break into my heart, I knew I had to give up control, which is a scary place. It means that I had to grow up, and become what I am designed to be, which means responsibility and consequence. It means I have to love. And in the absence of what that looks like I stepped back from it and took a seat in the stands, comfortable to watch. Comfortable to play the game the way it is meant to be played. That was me.

I realize my picture is not a whole picture. I have been on the journey in the Kingdom of God for a while. It has been rich with experiences. But is has also been about me. What about me? This inward journey has dominated my experience, and left me missing another side of the journey, the outward one, the one that calls us to love, the one that calls us to love the poor, the widow, and the fatherless.

As I look at the deeper picture behind me, the real turning point became the death of my Mother. This woke me up in more ways than I can imagine. But it wasn't until I really looked at her life that I realized she got it. She allowed love to break into her heart, to the deep crevices within her soul, and allowed it to transform her into a person that could love, and deeply. So my mom's final gift to me was an awakening. An awareness to look outside myself and see that I needed to grow up. I needed to step into who I was and allow God's love to break into my heart. Otherwise, I would miss the real point of the journey.

I've been on the journey for so long but it has never been a complete journey. Something has always been missing. Believe it or not, I started at this place of awakening. I started with God breaking into my heart. But he had things to do within me, things to work out in me, that it was a temporal experience. I was not ready to grow up. I am just grateful that he has stayed with me long enough for me to experience it again.

So I say thank you Father. Thank you for breaking into my heart and loving me so that I may learn what it means to love.

My Morning Coffee

If you're like millions of Americans you drink a cup of coffee in the morning. It has become a ritual for so many of us, me included. Coffee has replaced apple pie as the center piece of conversation. Check out your local coffee shop and you will see people sitting down, sharing stories, enjoying a smile with each other over their favorite joe.

I love coffee. A really good cup of joe has a truly great flavor and stimulates my palette like no other. I love Peet's Coffee the best. Its like mud, rich with flavor, and reminds me of the what is good in life. If you haven't tried Peet's, you're really missing something special. As a cautionary note, the first time I tried it I didn't like it so give it time.

But this isn't about coffee that way. Not after last night. I was checking out VolunteerMatch a week ago and found a really great opportunity to work for Oxfam at the Coldplay concert. Chris Martin, the lead singer, for those who live outside of the pop culture planet, is passionate about Oxfam and supports them at the concerts. I have to admit I went for the desire to serve but was swayed by the idea of a free concert. It just seemed like a great pairing of ideas. I like Coldplay but I don't own any of their CDs.

But this isn't about Coldplay either. Its about coffee. But its not about coffee the way you think its about coffee. Its about the people who grow coffee. You see Oxfam has identified one of the key components to world poverty. Coffee. Don't get me wrong. Coffee is not the cause. Its just part of the problem. You see 90% of the world makes a living growing agriculture. Most people around work a little piece of land to grow something and sell it at the local marketplace. They've done this for millenniums. Its just the way it is.

So where's the coffee come in? Well, people grow coffee. Local farmers in countries like Belize, Honduras, and Uganda grow coffee and sell it in the international marketplace. They must compete on price just like the rest of the world. Sounds simple, right? If you're like me, this just seems like simple economics and capitalism. It should encourage growth and competitiveness. With this information it becomes easy to just walk by the booth and worry about where the nearest bathroom is. Right?

But its still about the coffee. You see the 10 largest countries produce 80 percent of the world's exports. They create consortiums that can produce coffee very effectively. This is still good economics and capitalism.

Next word. Dumping.

Dumping is the real problem. Large consortiums dump large quantities of EXCESS coffee onto the marketplaces, driving the prices down to extreme lows and the little guy completely out of business. These families have never done anything else. They end up bankrupt and in extreme poverty, which means they live on less than one dollar a day. That's less than my venti drip with room for cream.

But there is no way this can be happening in America. Unfortunately it is. America subsidizes 24 billion a year to overproduce crops which flood international marketplaces. And they don't just hurt the other guys half way across the world. The rural American farmer, which the subsidies were originally meant for, are going out of business too.

Its really easy, right about now, to just throw up your hands, walk by the booth and say, "there's nothing I can do". And you'd be wrong. There are lots of opportunities to volunteer, write your senator, or just get educated. You can even sign up for the Big Noise Campaign or buy a really cool Make Trade Fair t-shirt.

But that's not the real action you can make. To really get practical, to really help the poor begins with your $1.79. Your cup of coffee. Simply ask your local coffee establishment for "fair trade certified coffee". Its that simple. By doing so, you'd be saving the little guy and feeling that much better about a great cup of joe.

Laugh With Me

As I look back on my life, the memories that seemed to stand out to me are when I was laughing. I can remember the moments at family dinners or over a beer with friends where something inside of me just allowed me to laugh. Not just a little laugh at a funny joke, but the kind of laugh that fills your belly. The kind that makes you cry and realize that I was meant to laugh.

This weekend I went to Spokane for a weekend residency for my Master's Program. I met some of the greatest people and found them to be engaging, smart, passionate, and also willing to laugh. I had the best time. At night, we would go to Fast Eddies and have a beer and tell stories, and laugh. I remember walking home last night, the cold biting my face, my cheeks hurting. And I remember thinking to myself, "Thanks God for laughter".

So laugh with me. Lets find the funniest, most hilarious, filled with joy stories that make us laugh together. Isn't that what makes community so special? I think so.

A Voice In The Wilderness

Today is one of those days that you wait decades for. This morning, I attended a workshop with a friend, given by a gentleman named Reggie McNeal. Reggie wrote the book The Present Future about the cultural shift happening in the church in response to post-modernism. His thesis was that we must move out of doing church and be the church. There is a growing body of work that lends credibility to idea of the movement, or shift, depending on who you talk to.

To really understand the moment you have to understand that the feelings espoused in the missional church are not new in general. But, they have been brewing and stirring in my heart for as long as I have been following Jesus. Something has always been just a little bit plastic about the church and too well packaged. A thin veneer has covered it, just thin enough that I could not quite get my hands around it. When you're in it, it feels like going to sleep in you bed after sweating real hard. You know something is there but its not bad enough to take care of it.

Reggie spent time really addressing some of the underlying themes that have plagued the church and destroyed its credibility. The suburban/historical church has essentially become a club that you sign up for a pay dues for. I smiled realizing that I could enjoy the fact that he said it and not me.

As I sat there in my seat my body grew numb. Not from a rejection of the content. Quite the opposite. It was a radical response to someone else saying what I had been feeling forever and doing something about it. That was important but not what really struck me and left me in a deep state of wonder. As I looked around during the workshop I began to notice that the average age of the group was probably fifty. This was radical to me because these were the people within the traditional structures of power, and they were engaged.

Which lead me to really believe we were on to something. You see, the principal message of the missional church is to connect people to loving their neighbor. This is cool, but is goes deeper than that. I validates a deeper truth that I have been exploring. When you connect people to the truth, which is that we are designed to love, you connect them to hope, to purpose, and to what ignites something within them intrinsically. Some won't get it, but for those who do watch out.

Reggie is like a voice in the wilderness to me, but what I am realizing is that he is not the only voice in the wilderness out there. There are many, and as he said, they are bubbling up from the ground, with a message people are ready to hear.

A Walk In The Night

Tonight was an interesting experience. I usually walk my dog Kipper late at night and listen to podcasts of various rabbis and mentors I consider important and required reading for my life. I walk around the golf course to the beginning of the third hole and then turn back around. Its normally about a 35 minute walk.

Tonight I was sitting at the table and wanting to spend some time with my kids. I mentioned the idea of taking Kipper for a walk and they all shouted, "Yeah!" It was a date.

We bundled up and headed out the door, everyone's eyes peering out from their parkas. Folsom is cold in the winter because it is so close to the Sierras. We brought a flashlight and a light saber for light. It was fun.

We walked around the course and looked at the stars, prentended to dance on the light and sang songs. My children seemed to bring a sense of clarity about me. They seemed to show me that I was a a pivotal force in their life. It was just me and my kids, and it was great.

On the way back, my daughter saw the divot repair bottles that were close to the tees. She grabbed one and my first instinct was to tell her to put it back. I stopped and let her look at it, and explained what it was for. They were all curious. As we walked back towards the house we stopped by the tee box and I noticed the divots on the grass. My daughter asked if she could fill them.

There are moments when things seem to come together and this is one of them. I told them all to grab a bottle and they bolted back to the stand grabbing one as though they were getting candy. We spent the next ten minutes filling the divots the golfers had left behind. They were filled with joy, and for such a simple little thing.

On the way back we had an absolutely amazing conversation about how we are made by God to love other people. This was just one way we could help. I explained how we weren't doing it for us but for other people. What was amazing was that they didn't care. They liked the idea of serving other people.

I walked home with a smile on my face. Something had happened and I was a part of it. It was one of those moments that the truth had shown its face to me and I was there to see it.

I walked away convinced that within each of us there is the capacity and design to love. I saw it in my kids. Not just one of them, but all three of them. All I had to do was show them the way.

Learning to Love

My wife and I are exploring what Jesus meant when he said love your neighbor. It seems like such a simple but radical concept when you think about it. How many of us love our neighbor? My wife and I really wanted to find something that we could engage our kids in with us. We wanted to explore this as a family so we could discuss it over dinners and let them explore this with us. We wanted to find a way to make it real for us and for them.

Loving your neighbor is an interesting concept. In my previous neighborhood, I barely knew the guy three doors down, let alone loved him. I remember moving in and a guy that lived across the street brought us brownies as a welcoming gift. It was really awesome to feel welcomed but I never saw the guy again though. He moved a little bit later.

The other guys across the street was also nice but it always felt he had an agenda, as though our conversations would lead to some political vote for something I was yet aware of. His palms were sometimes sweaty and he had a grin about him that made me wonder. He was always looking around waiting for the next neighbor. I confess I didn't really understand the guy, nor did I know him.

In my new neighborhood, everything feels great. I really do love my neighbors, in sort of a great community sense. But as my wife and I talked about it, they don't need much. Not in the way I think Jesus meant it. Everyone has a good job, and most have great kids that play with our kids. It is really a great community. Most of my neighbors actually know Jesus and are involved in some kind of church. I know they would be there for me if I needed it, and they know I would be there for them if they needed it. The problem is that none of us ever really need it.

In high school, my pastor was always talking about going to Africa for missions, as if my neighbor was someone on the other side of the world. This never really made sense to me, and left me pondering. For me, I don't find myself wanting to go to Africa, unless it means going to a Safari. I read an article recently that Africa now has more Christian's that the U.S. does, so I thought it was more practical to go next door or some place local. When ever someone would talk about missions, I would think about how much it would cost just to get there and then think what that could do for the guy who really needed it here. There was a need here wasn't there.

In college, I did experience a missions trip to Mexico with some friends. We went to a border town in Jalisco and played games with the kids, handed out used clothing, and washed some fo the youth who really neeeded it. But the experience has an economic feel to it. I was out to get something from the experience. I did walk away from it with a better sense of myself, as though I had done my part and could now go back to school and not feel guilty about partying. It felt as though God would give me a pardon for my partying because I had served the poor. My card was punched. As I reflected on this experience, I wanted something without the economic exchange, something deeper.

A friend of mine mentioned to me a couple of weeks ago that he helped serve with a local homeless shelter. He was even able to include his kids in the process and they loved it. I took my family last week really wanting to just love, to be available to whatever was in the moment. I didn't want any economic return out of it. I just wanted to love. When we got there, there were more volunteers than homeless people. There was nothing to do. I tried not to be disappointed but I was.

As I drove home with my family, looking for some place to grab a Taco, I reflected on the experience. What it did show me was that I live in a pretty safe world. Outside of this little homeless shelter, there isn't another place like this. The fact that I live in a community that has little to no homeless should be a good thing. Folsom is also home to one of the nation's most famous prisons, made famous by Johnny Cash. But in reality, I don't hear about the prison at all Its neatly placed behind the hills and you have to really look to notice its even there. A good friend of mine works there but I don't see him much beyond days at the clubhouse pool, and it never seems to come up.

As I munched on my Taco that evening, around our Pier One glass table in our convenient breakfast nook, I wrestled with my own experience with need. It made me wonder if I had created a cocoon around my family to insulate us from a world that needed love. I really didn't know anyone with needs in the traditional sense. I didn't know anyone who wondered where their next meal came from or how they were going to pay for the lights. Suburbia had driven me to a pretty safe life.

I'm not brow beating myself. I am in the beginning stages of exploring what I believe is what I am created for, to love. But in that journey, I am beginning to wonder what walls I have created for myself that keep me from being who I am.

Jesus calls us to love the poor, the sick, the broken-hearted, and the fatherless. I wonder if by selecting those who have no capacity to give back with anything other than a smile, we can remove the economics from it all. By removing the economics, or return on investment, I wonder if I will discover something deeper about giving than I am presently aware of. I say that with an expectation of "yes". When I really think about it I think people like Mother Theresa, who serve those in greatest need, had to know something more than I do. There just has to be something deeper there that would allow them to serve in what is widely considered "hell on earth". I wanted to discover that something.

But to do so requires me to tear down my walls, and to enter an unsafe world. A world that is messy. Am I ready for messy? I want to be. Oh this heart of mine.

Tonight I found this really great ministry organizations called Angel Food Ministries. My heart leaped for some reason. It seemed like a really great idea that I could explore with my family. The idea is fairly simple and the volunteers simply help distribute food to the poor who need it. I like the simplicity of it. I like the name, the idea, and that I can bring my children with me.

We'll see what happens.