Someone had to train Yoda.

Conquering BBS, nice people and big decisions

I have BBS. What is BBS you ask? Well, it is a rather personal issue; not information one generally shares (or chooses to read about...and yet, here we are). We blog wackos will talk about (just about) anything from the perceived privacy of our own homes.

BBS--"Bashful Bladder Syndrome."

...I get shy.

It is estimated that one in ten suffer from this completely legitimate, not-ridiculous-at-all condition. I don't have it as bad as some, but in the presence of others it takes extreme concentration (...think waterfall, think waterfall!), turning on a bathroom fan or faucet, or waiting for the guy in the next urinal to...umm...finish before I can...well you know. Let me tell you, its a really bad deal when two Bashful bladders end up using the urinals right next to each other.

What possible reason could I have for sharing such ridiculously private information? Last week I was staying in the home of a couple I barely know, and when I went to use their restroom, I was able to "spell pig backwards" freely without even thinking about it!

I was staying at the house of Pastor Skip and Linda of the Fosston Baptist church. It was this experience that revealed to me just how relaxed and at ease I was thanks to their warmth and kindness. A guy has to be relaxed to overcome such great odds!

But really, the greater purpose in my writing is to express the warm and welcoming spirit of all the people I met in Fosston...not so much to talk about my bladder (are you relieved? Ooooh! an unintentional pun!).

I was in Fosston last week to meet with the elders, youth and youth leaders of the Fosston Baptist church to talk about the possibility of stepping into their youth pastor position. Their current youth pastor, Steve, leaves to plant a church in Moorhead this June. It was such a great blessing meeting all these people. Such a warm welcome. I spent a great deal of my two days in Fosston laughing and/or soaking up all the wisdom and knowledge Pastors Skip and Steve were pouring on me. It was such a great experience that even if it doesn't result in me filling the position in Fosston, I know that God wanted me there for the experience of it; so many nuggets of wisdom to grab, and being able to witness the beautiful love these volunteer youth leaders have for the youth group was wonderful. Wow! I can learn so much from their passion.

The other cool thing about this position is that along with youth pastoring in Fosston, I would become the program director (or something to that effect; the title has yet to be determined) of the Baptist camp for the Red River Valley. It's this camp in which I had my first youth ministry experience. It would be amazing to be able to pour into the camp that has played such a significant role in my life; helping to make it a more healthy and vibrant ministry, all the while working alongside some very cool, very passionate, and wise people.

I am meeting with pastor Skip, pastor Pat (from my home church), and Lake Bronson camp Director, Boyce this Tuesday to talk about what this camp position will look like.

Please pray with me for this up coming meeting, for wisdom as Fosston Baptist and I pray about the possibility of me taking on a role at their church in the months ahead, and for humble obedience to go wherever God leads.

...I suppose you could pray about my bashful bladder too, but that's not quite as important. Just think waterfall.

Picnic in the park: good idea. Picnic in Jurassic Park...

My latest thrift shop painting piece. I paid $8.50 for this mediocre painting, but I thought the set up with the huge empty, T-Rex sized space was well worth it. At least now we know what the kids are looking at.

I realize that it has been quite awhile since I last posted anything of substance on here. I will try to share some of the things God's teaching me, and what's going on in my life very soon, but for now, this is SO much easier.

Oh, lazy blogging apathy.

When I was 5, I named our cat "Black-Spot-White". True Story.

I love thinking about names; what I would like to name my children one day, how certain names become common, their meanings and significance, the joy of a good nick-name, what it means to be named by God. Names...so special.

This was a bad joke I thought of, and then drew. I post allot of my art on Facebook, but I guess this is a good spot to post it too. Do drawings make bad jokes better (do they Family Circus, do they)? I don't know--sometimes Get Fuzzy's jokes aren't all that stupendous (and every now and then, Darby Conley will hit one straight out of the park with sheer brilliance) , but the drawing is always phenomenal, and the expressions in the characters say more then the speech bubbles ever could. I have neither the skill in joking, nor drawing to reach that level of humor yet, but I think I am going to start practicing drawing out jokes; even my most groan-worthy ones. It could be fun to one day reach a caliber at which I could do some freelance. Just a bit of a dream.

Conceited things come in small packages

My mind has been stuck in a rut lately. I've never thought of myself as a worrier, but when you can only seem to focus on one thing, I suppose that would be worrying. I'm not even concerned with the things I need. I have allowed my mind to be consumed lately with the desires of my heart; wondering if God will provide for my deep want.

A wise couple in church today shared some comments. She said, "We don't need to worry for ourselves as Christians, because God has already promised to take care of us. What we should be focused on is our cup overflowing and spilling onto others. They should be our concern."

He then chimed in to say, "The fella who is wrapped up in himself makes for a very small package." Ha.

I am a small package. I need to be ripped open and spilled out for others.

Hello MP3PO!

A couple months back, I wrote on here that my friend Taylor and I have started a indie music blog and gave you a link. Well, we promptly changed the name of the blog, and therefore the web address, so that link became useless within a few days. If you are a music fan of the indie persuasion, please check out our blog at http://www.hellomp3po.blogspot.com/. I have been introduced to many of my favorite artists by Taylor, so maybe he can do the same for you.

Also, if you would ever be interested in contributing a post to our music blog, let us know!

Creative Morbidity

A few years back, my cousins and I just couldn't hold it in. Our creative juices splurged forth in morbid Christmas prankfulness. Making a few slight adjustments In Aunt Iris's kitchen, a pig that usually holds both spatula and whisk, gave them up for rocks and slingshot, performing heinous acts of violence on Christmas deer.

This year, having the absolute perfect snow, my cousin Nathan, my sisters, my mom, and I all went outside to make some snow creations. Maybe we felt suppressed as children (I mean, I wasn't even allowed to watch ninja turtles, come on!), but morbidity emerged once again. This time in true Calvin and Hobbe's snowman fashion.

In the morning, gravity added its creative hand, causing our poor snowman to bend in the dizzying agony of snowball cannon pain.

Today, for the first time since Christmas, the weather was warm enough to get out and create dastardly sadistic scenes once again. Mom helped me out! What kind of sick and twisted mother-son duo does this stuff?!!?

Once you have had a taste of snowman violence, you cant escape it. Here is our inspiration. The one and only Bill Watterson and his comic strip, Calvin and Hobbes

God loves Haiti

In light of such horrific tragedy in Haiti, it is easy to ask questions like how a good God could allow such horrid devastation and tragedy. The ultimate answer will simply be that we cannot know. It is not a satisfying answer, nor a comforting one. We can dig for answers in theodicy, delve into the mind of Augustine, but in the face of suffering even the best explanations seem trite. There will be no comfort for the father whose child has been crushed in rubble.

This isn't an ivory tower issue. This issue dwells in the streets alongside the suffering.

As Christians, we simply have to trust that our God truly is a good God. That his love for the Haitian people is deep, and it is wide, and it is limitless. Asking how a good God could allow such atrocity is asking the wrong question. Instead, being believers in a truly good God, we must ask ourselves, as the hands and feet of Christ, how do we show that our God is good? In the face of evil, how do we demonstrate Christ's love?

Watching the news coverage can be simply overwhelming. How do we help the helpless? The greatest way in which you and I can make a difference is through prayer. I struggle to see what impact a few uttered words can make in the lives of an obliterated nation thousands of miles away, but they aren't just hollow uttered words. When we pray, we communicate with the creator of the universe. He is love, and He is light. Through our prayers He will penetrate the darkness and accomplish more than we could fathom.

Our generosity is also needed. Nearly 80% of Haiti lives under the poverty line; two dollars a day or less. This poverty is only intensified in light of the earthquake. Our money is needed; whatever we can afford to give will make a significant difference. Here is a link to a site that lists different organizations who can use your funds to make a difference.

Reject Apathy

I have good parents.

I love my church. There are times when I feel guilty that I am not in full time ministry yet, but I am so very thankful that I have had the opportunity after five years of being away at college to get to know my home church again. It is so wonderful coming back and establishing relationships as an adult. I feel so greatly blessed to be a part of such a beautiful community. God has done (and is doing) great things in Roseau and all around the world through this small body of believers. I am so fortunate for such a great training ground of what it means to live and serve as the church before steping into a leadership position of my own.

This evening my parents and I went to listen to a young lady from our church who for the past few years has been ministering in China. I love hearing how God's Spirit is working throughout the world because of the faithful witness of believers. There are so many young missionaries that have come from my church, young men and women less then ten years older then me, who are earnestly, excitedly and diligently sharing God's love and good news in full time ministry.

Many young people feel a pressure from their parents to "make something of themselves". Make lots of money, be successful, make a name for yourself. Growing up, I have watched my parents greatest respect not fall on those role models who have landed jobs as doctors or lawyers or business men and women, but on those who have surrendered so much in order to live out the Great Commission daily. I should clarify. It is not that doctors and lawyers cannot, and do not live out the Great Commission daily. I applaud my friends and family who have become Christian examples of godly lawyers, doctors, and business people; certainly there is a mission field there as well that is just as significant as any other. I just say, there was no pressure in those directions for me growing up. My sister just took on a position in an inner city youth mission which requires her to raise full support, and I don't think my parents could be more proud. I see a great pride in my parents through their partnership in both prayer and financial support of several missionaries. They have shown me in ways words could never that they truly want to see their children choose eternally significant paths then to see us make good names for ourselves, our have huge houses with rooms we could never fill.

Being a college grad, in debt, without medical insurance, working a minimum wage job, and knowing I have devoted my college career to pursue a ministry that will never make me wealthy causes me to think about money every now and then. OK, worry about money every now and then. Then I remember that simply by living on North American soil, I am rich. Financially, I am incredibly wealthy; rarely in need or want. I am blessed. Even more so, because I am a Christian, I am wealthy. I have a heavenly inheritance, and because God gave me godly parents, I have learned to see what is truly valuable.

Pirate Monks

Every Thursday morning I begrudgingly pull myself from the warmth of my covers, and roll over fumbling to turn off my alarm clock. Rubbing my eyes, I stare at the red digital numbers, casting their evil early morning glow. "Why do I do this? I hate this! I need this. I want to sleep. No, I really want to go (but I don't). I need to go." The argument rages in my sleepy head.

It's time for men's group.

I drive in my cold car, hearing the engine's belt screaming, "Why do you do this to me!", ducking my head below the frost on my windshield, watching the road pass beneath the tires. I often wonder why I do this to myself. Even as I drive into the Church parking lot, I hear a voice saying, "Maybe no one saw you pull in. You could still turn around and catch a few more winks before work."

There are times when,I admit, the voice wins out well before I pull off the covers, much less into a parking spot, but I know it will throw any lies it can at me to keep me from meeting with these godly men; my lifeline.

Why is it so hard? The cold? The hour of the day? Or is it becoming emotionally, and spiritually vulnerable before a group of men. Confessing. It's admitting to men I respect that I messed up that week. It's letting them see me for who I am, rather then who I want to be. It's the accountability of knowing they can keep tabs on me. They'll know if I am making changes in my life or standing stagnant.

Vulnerability is horribly uncomfortable. Ironically, it's also what keeps me coming back.

Men's group is not a tea time (although I do like tea times). We don't eat crumpets (although I certainly wouldn't mind a crumpet every now and then), and cry about how the world has failed us. We don't check our masculinity at the door. Instead, we strive to become better men--fathers, sons, husbands, and brothers. To take responsibility; to live disciplined, God honoring lives. We are Pirate Monks, as a favorite book of mine would call us--sinners in the process of sainthood. Active journeyers in our Christian walk, recognizing Christ's sanctifying work in our lives.

I have seen godly men fail. I can no longer say, "I could never do that." I know my heart is deceitfully wicked. I am capable of all kinds of evil. I know all human hearts are. Without the grace of God, the cleansing sanctification of Christ, and the uplifting support of the church, we are all doomed to fail. We can't afford to pretend any longer that we got it all together. We don't, and no one does.

There is such a beauty and freedom that falls upon that circle of men in our vulnerability with one another; uncomfortable yet truly liberating freedom. I realize that every guy in that room is just as screwed up as me, and that God loves us each immensely.

Human beings are capable of deep bonding. Trials, interests, values, experiences; all of these things can weave a bond as thick as family between people. But the link between brother's and sisters in Christ is different. It runs deeper then the blood of family ties; because it is eternal. It is family in the truest sense of the word.

I love these men(a manly, beef jerky-football-grunting kind of love of course...). We are the Church, living as the Church. I can't imagine what life would be like without the support of the body of Christ. So empty, and constricting. I will choose to live in the freedom I have been given. Even if I have to set my alarm clock a bit earlier.

Rudolf arrested for flying under the influence

"You know Dasher and Dancer, Prancer and Vixon. Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzon. But do you recall the most famous reindeer of all?"

Many of us grew up singing these words; a holiday favorite of millions. Children will undoubtedly be disappointed to find out that Rudolf may go down in history for a very different reason then that stated in the song.

Rudolf was pulled over for reckless flight under the influence on Dec. 6, 2:00 a.m. after a party at a friend's establishment, North Pole.

Deputy Conner Gillespie stated, "Rudolf's breathalyzer revealed that his blood alcohol level was .21; well above the legal level for a reindeer. The test was unnecessary, there was such a strong scent of hard egg nog on his breath."

The song, Rudolf the Red nosed Reindeer, was introduced to the public shortly after the rookie reindeer joined the current line up back in the 1930's. Very few have ever doubted the validity of this song. Now it seems that all of Rudolf's credibility is crumbling like a Christmas cookie.

"Well for one thing, Rudolf was not the most famous reindeer. That was pure propaganda shoved on the public by an agency Santa hired to recruit reindeer hopefuls back in 1939. We had made it through many "foggy Christmas Eve's" before Rudolf--heck every Christmas Eve is foggy somewhere in the world," said Vixon.

Vixon and the other seven of Santa's team have been flying together every Christmas Eve since the early 1800's. Though the song makes claim that "all the reindeer loved him" after Santa asked Rudolf to lead his sleigh "one foggy Christmas Eve", some say these words are far from the truth.

"I hate that cocky, shiny nosed punk." said Donner in a phone interview this morning. "That hoodlum thought he could just strut into a group that had been working together for over a hundred years, becoming the glowing face of our team. He thinks he's the ginger's snap."

It is true that Rudolf was practically unknown before the song stated his fame, but like a self-fulfilling prophecy, Rudolf's fame grew--along with his pay check.

Frank Turner, current reindeer trainer and stable hand said, "Rudolf makes considerably more then the rest of the reindeer. First, he's got the royalties going for him. The song, films, children's books...this guy will never be in want of carrots or hay!"

One of Santa's elves, who wished to remain nameless spilled to Reindeer Weekly last year that Rudolf makes more per flight then the other's as well.

"Rudolf is making a quarter of a cent per roof top. that might not sound like much, but hey, they are hitting up thousands--millions of houses every Christmas. Do the math. That is one rich deer!"

It appears that the fame may have went to Rudolf's head. Santa's establishment took notice.

When asked if Rudolf's drinking habits were known, all eight reindeer attest that this was common knowledge.

FedEx CEO Carl Berkly was not pleased with the news. "Every year we entrust millions of dollars worth of packages to Santa and his reindeer, for nostalgia's sake--people don't want the FedEx guy to come to their door, they want the fat guy to come down their chimney. We could loose lots of revenue, not to mention the danger of a drunken reindeer weaving round people's homes. Santa needs to drop that sorry cow. Pathetic!"

Rudolf's pilot license has been revoked, and it is currently uncertain when, if ever, Rudolf will be rejoining the team.

"Good riddance", said Blitzen. "I am sick of flying down wind from him anyway. His engine is never short of gas, if you catch my drift. haha...drift."

Many share Blitzen's sentiment, especially on the eve of a new technology that may make Rudolf's nose obsolete.

"We are working on a technology alongside Princeton Tec for a reindeer LED head lamp that should aid navigation in future Christmas Eve journeys." said, Troy DeVries, lead design manager of Santa's workshop. "It should be ready in time for this years flight." This couldn't be more timely, given the circumstances.

"This was a long time coming."stated Corbin Anderson, Technician for Sleigh Control tower. "Rudolf was just to costly, and his behavior was to dangerous. LED technology will cut down our costs, provide more light for the whole team of reindeer, and a LED light doesn't skip work with a hangover."

North Pole locals are pleased, for many reasons. "When it's a stormy night and you see this eerie red glow and here the sound of sleigh bells, you're not thinking, hey, must be Santa and his reindeer come to spread holiday cheer. You're thinking Horsemen of the Apocalypse, that's what you're thinking." said Bob Burr from his North pole igloo pad.

Neither Santa nor Rudolf's lawyer have responded to our request for comment, concerning Rudolf's sentence.

The other reindeer are taking it in stride, even joking about the song they have come to detest so much.

"Whoever labeled Monopoly a reindeer game? We have hooves, we hate that game!" stated Dasher.

Rudolf better polish up that nose of his, he's got one dark road ahead of him.

That's getting into the Christmas spirit!

It's snow good

Snow has come to Minnesota.

My family went to cut down the Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving. Its just not quite the same walking on grass in tennis shoes to cut down a tree. But December came and along with it, the snow. And it has really come. I had one of those excited moments where I stood outside smiling, thinking, "At last! It is finally here, a Winter Wonderland!" which quickly transitioned into, "and it will probably be here for five more months....sigh...." Where has my inner child gone?

Today I went outside to play with Mom's daycare kids in the snow (only for a short while, its cold out there!). Addie (she's three) asked me to build a snowman. I said, "Sorry kiddo, it's to cold; the snow won't stick together. We can't build a snowman."

Her response. "That's OK, do it anyway."

I love the logic of a three year old.

Has anybody ever made a snowman and really pretended he is Parson Brown? Apparently Parson is just an old term for a minister (you know, parson--parsonage...makes sense now, eh?), hence the "He'll say are you married, we'll say no man, but you can do the job when you're in town!" Unfortunately, snowmen cannot sign marriage licenses.

I think that some day around Christmas if I ask a girl if she's married, and she responds, "No man, but you can do the job when you're in town," I'll go and elope with her right then.

Faith and Reason

I frequent Patrol Magazine's site from time to time. I recently read a blog about faith and reason, by Tim Raveling titled How I became Agnostic; You can't have faith and reason at the same time. I had to choose.

A very well written, well thought blog. I enjoyed it, and was excited to see that he originally posted here, and that there were many comments. It's such a refreshing rarity to read respectful debate in comments on such a topic.

I wondered, is it true? Is it impossible to have faith and reason at the same time?

Tim states,

"Faith exists in the absence of reason. The two cannot coexist for any given belief."

and at another point in his post,

"Every action we take as human beings has something of reason and something of faith, but those “somethings” do not coincide."

He goes on to explain...

"When you fly, your reason tells you first that airplanes work, and rarely crash, based on the evidence of your knowledge, your visual perception of other planes taking off and, if you are a physicist, your knowledge of aerodynamics. Your faith tells you that your knowledge is accurate, that your eyes are working, and that the laws of physics will continue to function. Coincidentally, the less faith you have in these things, the more nervous you will be to fly."

I believe I disagree with Tim here. It appears to me that even in this example, faith and reason do coincide. When we climb into a plane, we believe it will fly because it is reasonable to believe it will fly. Faith and reason are serving the same purpose and acting at the same time; a reasonable faith and a faith-filled reasoning.

But what if reason and faith do conflict? Can faith and reason then coincide? Tim states that there are three responses to such an apparent contradiction; blind faith (who cares what it looks like, I know this is true simply because I believe it's true!), rationalization (bringing reasoning to the level of faith; at surface level this doesn't appear rational so there must be a reason beyond the surface level that can explain it). Or rejection, simply accepting that what was believed to be true was not true; believing that putting faith in the irrational is insane.

One of my favorite Theologians, Thomas F. Torrance, (a student of Karl Barth) spoke on the relationship of Faith and reason. His book Incarnation says,

"For Torrance, faith may be defined as what happens to our reason when it encounters the nature and reality of God. It encounters a personal reality it has not met before, which it cannot fit into its predefined categories, which far outstrips its powers of comprehension but which makes itself intelligible in terms of its own unique reality. Reason must either reject such a reality or recognise it and learn to reshape its whole way of perception in accordance with the nature of this new reality. If it does the latter, reason becomes faith" (xliii).

I guess this means, in Torrance's understanding, that reasoning is rationalized into faith.

And that is the thing. Sometimes it seems ludicrous to live in faith. But even then, it is reasonable. In my last post, I wrote of the faith of George Muller. God provided for all his needs. He never once had to ask for finances in his different ministries. It certainly seems foolish to count on an invisible hand to provide for the physical needs of hundreds of orphans under your care; downright irresponsible! Common logic would say if you don't ask for money to go buy and prepare food for the kids, there will be none. George stepped out in blind faith, and God provided.

Was he unreasonable to do this? God had always provided. should he not expect that God would do so again?

Sometimes its just more reasonable to believe in the unreasonable.

Tim says, in his last paragraph, "...I still believe in God, and I still believe that Christ was humanity’s best incarnation of him."

I have other friends who have left the Christian faith who would probably say similar things.

My question is this: Is it rational to believe that Christ was a good man; the best incarnation of God, if he was not God himself? To me, this seems far less reasonable then Christianity itself.

C.S. Lewis said it best,

"I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: 'I'm ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don't accept His claim to be God.' That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic -- on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg -- or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to. "

I do not know Tim. He is quite obviously a talented writer, well-read, and intelligent. I am sure he exceeds me in all these areas. I also do not believe he came to this decision lightly. In many ways I understand his struggle recognizing that there is a lot to our faith (much of which Tim mentions) that just doesn't seem to make sense. I can hardly imagine the struggle and how fearful it must have been to leave a life long faith and hope behind. The only difference between Tim and I in our struggles with the Christian faith is the direction our reason took us. He chose reason over faith and my reason became faith. I pray that as Tim continues to seek truth, the true God will guide him to His arms.

Check out Faith and Doubt by Aaron Espe. Good song.

Come and see what God will do!

Every now and then, I get asked to speak for some youth event or something of the sort. I often speak on the very things I struggle with the most, like faith. Recently I read a book about George Muller, a great man of remarkable faith. George Muller; The Guardian of Bristol's Orphans. An amazing book--you could easily read it in a day, and everyone should.

George Muller, amongst the multitude of wonderful things he did, started the first orphanage of Bristol, England back in the 1800s. Starting an orphanage, though amazing in itself, may not be the most amazing thing in the world. Starting it with the trust and expectation that God would provide everything--EVERYTHING--for such a ministry is. George Muller was also a pastor, and though he truly desired to provide for the great need of countless homeless and needy orphans in Bristol, his main desire for beginning the orphanage was as a testament of faith to the members of his church and the community at large. George Muller determined to never ask for one cent in the support of his orphanages. In the sixty or so years of his life after beginning the orphanage, he never once asked for any provision, trusting that God would completely provide.

And he did.

I love this one story. George was in his office going over some business with one of his assistants. The daughter of friend and assistant, John Townsend was playing out in the garden below. George watched the then eight year old Abigail Townsend through his window with a smile; she was like a grand daughter to him. He loved her dearly. There was a knock on the door. It was the matron from Orphan house three. At this point in the orphanage history, there were three orphanages; I believe each had about 300 or more orphans living in their walls. The matron informed George that there was no food in the kitchen. none. It was breakfast time for 300 hungry orphans. George just said. "I'll take care of it."

I can almost picture the excitement and smile on his face, like a child on Christmas day, as he ran down the stairs, out the door and straight to Abigail in the garden.

"Abigail, come with me. Come and see what God will do!"

As they walked into Orphan house 3, George stood before the 300 orphans all quietly and patiently standing before their spots at their tables, empty plates and cups before them. George said, "Good Morning Children, Let us pray. Dear God, we thank you for what you are going to give us to eat. Amen."

The children pulled out their chairs across the wooden floor, and that was when a knock came at the door. The baker. He couldn't sleep the night before feeling as if he was supposed to make bread for the orphans, so he stayed up, and now had fresh bread for everyone.

"God has blessed us through you this morning!"

Then there was the next knock. The milkman. His cart had broken down right in front of the orphanage. The load was to heavy. It would need to be lightened in order to fix the cart. Milk was given, free of charge if they would only help him take it off the cart.

Sometimes God multiplies loaves and fish; other times he breaks down milk carts.

I have always thought that faith is something that I need to muster up; something I really need to work on. But the bible says it is given to us. Eph 2:8 says, "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith--and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God.

Why does it seem that some Christians have a George Muller faith then, while others have...my kind.

The more we walk with God, the more he blesses our faith. The more time we spend with our Father, the more we trust him. George Muller read through his bible over 300 times in his Christian life. He became a Christian in his early 20s and died at 89. Do the math. This man loved God's word, and he was in love with his Lord, his constant provider.

Are we self-sufficient? Independent? In control of our situations? Bummer if we think so; we're missing out on a lot of excitement.

Where is my blog? right here.

I have had this blog for many years; all the way back to 2004. It didn't take me long to regret choosing a domain address as confusing and difficult to type as once-a-sinner-now-saved.blogspot.com. I thought it was cool at the time... Recently, I discovered that it is possible to change your blog's address with just a few simple clicks. Yes, it took me five years to discover this. Sinnernowsaved.blogspot.com should be much easier to remember. Soon after making this change, however, I realized that this will screw up any link ever made to my blog, as well as prevent many people from finding my blog being that it is no longer located at the old address. Oh foolish, foolish me. In fact perhaps no one will even read this because they won't be able to find my blog! Gasp!

What's that? Just change it back you say. Yes, this would make sense, but the first time I made the change, it messed with my layout a bit, and I lost a few things, so I dare not return to my old address for fear of doing irreversible damage to my page. I am not computer savvy enough to prevent these blog blunders. Sigh. sorry for all the confusion.

In other news, for those of you who perchance have stumbled upon this page despite the change of address, I have another new blog--an indie music blog with my friend, Taylor.

http://www.thekindestdays.blogspot.com/

I am pretty stoked about it. Taylor is a veritable Indie genius so hipster wisdom should abound.

Raw Chicken Stimulates the Imagination

I am currently in job purgatory--that place between college and career when one works a menial part time job often reserved for high school students. But its not that bad, it provides lots of time to think. I often pray, sing to myself, think about church planting, youth ministry, girls, family and friends, books, music, God. Some times when breading the raw chicken, I imagine that there was a strain of chicken zombieism that went unchecked; that some farm butchered and plucked those zombie chickens, and then shipped them to our pizza place. It wasn't their fault really--they didn't know; zombies often run around like chickens with their heads cut off--especially zombie chickens. As I quickly bread the chicken, I accidentally prick my skin on a chicken breast rib, contract the chicken zombie virus and begin rampaging the town of Roseau. The government sends in snipers to destroy all the strutting, clucking undead. But it's to late, soon all Roseau is running around, pecking at each other in a zombie stupor!

These are the mindless places mindless jobs take me. I have had many stressful, think-on-your-feet-or-crash-and-burn jobs, so this can be a pleasant change...for the time being, at least.

I recognize that even having a reliable job in small town Minnesota during a recession is a blessing in itself. Even though I am not in full time ministry right now, God is still providing opportunity to hone my skills, and serve within my own church. And though a pizza place is not the most exciting job in the world, I can't help but think that God has some lessons and opportunities here for me. The job has already challenged my pride (go minnimum wage college grad!), and I am beginning to see that if I put myself out there, God could really use me to touch lives for him through relationships I form. Pray that I take that leap--that I see the opportunities before me and take them. That I really love the people I work with. I want to bring meaning to this period in my life, to show the love of Christ to the people I encounter. I continually find myself imagining friends, family and co-workers on the day of judgement looking straight into my eyes and asking me why I never told them about Christ. That is so much scarier then zombie chickens, and yet, it seems so much easier to push out of my mind.

It shouldn't be.

What the...

My roommate from last year is a photographer. This has made me a professional model. Here is the story.

Taylor: Hey Tyler, let me take your picture.

Tyler: OK, let me do something stupid first.

(buzzzzz).

Tyler: Ha! There we go.

Taylor: Oh...wow...

One year later, I receive this email from Taylor.

"Dear Tyler

An image of you has sold through Getty images. It's the one of you against the pink background with your poorly shaved beard. A company paid close to $600 for it. Best of all that company lists itself as an "Addiction Agency." I laughed and laughed and laughed. And then laughed some more. Thought you might get a kick out of it. I owe you a cigar.

-Taylor"

I am the face of addicts everywhere.

Dog

My family is a pet family. We've had animals since I was very young. Fish, birds, cats, dogs, hamsters. Right now we have a cat and dog; so we're not quite the zoo we have been. Most of these pets have been wonderful, and quite smart. Our first dog wasn't.

It was perhaps the cutest stupid animal to ever gnaw a tennis shoe. One time this dog climbed onto our dinning room table...and peed. I have had many years to contemplate what was (or wasn't) going on in the head of this ridiculous animal. The only logical conclusion I can come to is something like "hmmm....this surface is often full of delicious food, I had better claim it as my territory." Dumb mutt.

I realize that my love for animals is conditional. I am so thankful that God's love for me is not. I have spent so much of my life trying to earn the salvation he has already freely given me. I can't earn his love through my works, and though I pee on the proverbial table all the time, God loves this stupid mutt! His love does not change.

A good friend shared some verses from Hebrews 10 with me; how we can confidently walk into the thrown room of God with clear consciences because Christ, our High Preist, goes before us. Awesome. I especially like verse 14,

"...by one sacrifice he has made perfect forever those who are being made holy."

We are made perfect, yet are in the process of being made holy. Already but not yet. Already viewed as perfect even as we are slowly being made perfect. Our God is great. Our High Priest is beautiful.

Philosophy of Humor

It is my belief that even the lamest joke/pun will be found humorous to the recipient if the deliverer delights in said joke/pun.

If I am wrong, please don't correct me.