Who am I?

Colossians 3:17

And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Because of the nature of what I do, I hear this question asked (whether directly or indirectly) all the time. Because of the nature of my own personality I hear this question rattling around in my own brain all the time. It seems to be a question that plagues so many of our generation... even those who start with so much confidence in their future. Is it a byproduct of the previous "me" generation or is it just human nature? Sometimes it has a sense of discovery and joy and sometimes "lostness" and sorrow but it always seems to be connected to some intangible place/person that is just beyond reach. If we could only discover who we REALLY were... then we could change the world... then we could be truly pleasing to God... then we would be happy. If only I knew who I REALLY was... I read a quote the other day that might take a different swing at it though:

We are what we repeatedly do, excellence then is not an act, but a habit. ~ Aristotle

Maybe we are what we're becoming... and maybe we're becoming what we are actually doing. I know it kind of turns it all on it's head but maybe that is the point of the freedom that God gives us... the freedom to become.

entitlement...

I read an article today on techticker about the 18.4 Billion dollars that were spent on Wall Street bonuses this last year. Bob O'Brian comments that, "The sense of entitlement that's been engendered in this group of people has clearly not been beaten out of them by the brutal performance of the financial sector over the course of the last year,"... truly amazing. Taking what is the 6th highest level of bonuses that have ever been recorded in one of the most financially shattered years America has ever had... and potentially FROM the very money the government had given to them to help get the economic gears moving again. Entitlement indeed.

As I read, I couldn't help but think of the spiritual metaphore this situation represents. How often do I move with this same sense of entitlement with the grace given me? It's mine to do with what I want... but instead of passing it on to those around me I horde it. And, in the midst of a omnipotent eternal "TARP" plan, I protect my assets instead of sharing the wealth. Entitlement indeed.

Forgive us Lord and move us forward...

communities of faith

It is amazing to me the broad spectrum of faith communities we cross through on any given day.

Sunday I counted five.

1st - Of course, there is the team of people we have come to "do life" with here in Golden Hill. It is small and curious. We have be spending a lot of time listening and looking for what God is saying to us and calling us to say... community here is learning and exploring.

2nd - We have been attending a GIGANTIC church in the mornings called The Rock pastored by Miles McPherson. No matter your thoughts on "mega" churches this one definitely stands out. Both with its passion for God and His Words AND its desire to transform the San Diego landscape... community here is moving and hopeful.

3rd - This particular Sunday we attended a service put on by another missional community called the Ecclesia Collective. It is a collection of communities seeking common ground and committed to pursuing the Kingdom objectives in action... community here is seeking and protesting.

4th - At this service I bumped into some of the other missionaries with CRM (our organisation) doing other things in and around the greater San Diego area. There is SO much uniqueness in each of these missionaries call and work as they equip leaders for Christ's body around the world... community here is global and developing.

5th - And as the evening went on I had the opportunity to go forward with Duncan and take communion with him... father and son. I was deeply aware in the moment as I was kneeling on the floor in front of him of the deep spiritual communion I share with my son... a community of two... or in my case 6! It is VERY precious to me... community here is deeply connected and full of what could be.

Bless these communities Lord in Your name... Amen.

prayer for this day

Lord help me be the me that looks the most like You.
And help my heart to beat the way that it's supposed to.
Guide each look today, each word a precious gift.
Use this simple life to bring joy, hope, faith and lift...
to those who's hearts have faltered, who's lives feel at their end.
Your Spirits touch. Your Fathers heart. A blood bought life. Amen.

feels like worship

Psalm 66:1-4

Shout for joy to God, all the earth;
sing the glory of his name;
give to him glorious praise!
Say to God, "How awesome are your deeds!
So great is your power that your enemies come cringing to you.
All the earth worships you
and sings praises to you;
they sing praises to your name."
Selah

I am sitting here at my kitchen table this morning listening to the sound of the rain hitting the pavement outside (YES, it does occasionally rain here in So Cal)... I love rain... especially when you haven't had it for 40 days straight. I think it is because (to me) it represents cleansing, freshness... even newness. It reminds me on my childhood.

I remember the storms that used to move across the prairies where I grew up. It would be dry, dusty and lifeless yellow everywhere you'd look. The air (and everything else) seemed thin... without substance.

And then...

in a moment...

you could feel the shift.

The air would become heavier and begin to smell like Spring at the lake. And it would begin to move, like it was alive... you could feel the storm coming. And though the sky would still be light blue from one gigantic end to the other you KNEW the storm was coming. After a while the edge of the giant blue sheet would turn purple... then almost black... and it would move with steady, constant power from one edge to the other. And when the storm hit it was like some sort of misplaced tsunami or tidal wave. The rain wasn't a mist or even drops... it felt like my Labrador's tongue as he licks my hand... womp, womp, womp. In a moment you are soaked. In an instant the dust and dryness was gone. You could cut the air with your hand. And as quick as it arrived, it would vanish... except for the amazing smells and sights of newness and life.

It feels like redemption.

It feels like new life.

It feels like worship.

writing again...

It's interesting how we as people put off things that are good for us... like exercise. Repentance. Eating better. Forgiving one another. Learning something new... or old. Changing our rhythms. Getting better at procrastinating...

Sometimes I think when we put things off long enough we don't just forget that they are good for us... we forget who we are. Yeah, I know, some of the nagging voices just need to be let go. They are voices that are trying to remake us into an image that we were never intended to be. But the other voices (or maybe Voice) represent a type of hope... one that we must learn not to be afraid of... one we must learn to embrace if we are to become who God is calling us to be.

So here is to a new year of hopes yet realized... and verses yet unwritten.