Do the dishes

Sometimes I get hung up.  Lately, I’ve been waiting for things to get perfect.  I won’t go running until the weather gets better.  I won’t do ministry until God gets my other stuff in order.  I won’t advance with anything, until all of my current issues are dealt with, and everything lines up the way I want it to.

And that’s really harmful.

Because there’s always something to get hung up on.

When I’m sitting around and waiting for things to get fixed, I’m missing out on something really valuable.  Because God likes fixing things.  He’s always got his hands in our business, pulling things apart and putting them together.  And that’s what he asks me to help him with.  So when I wait for things to be good before I get involved, I’m bypassing the very thing that God is inviting me to participate in.  So I think I’m going to stop waiting for perfection.  I’m going to go running in the rain, and I’m going to go do ministry even though I have mounds of other things to take care of.  I’m going to be who I’m meant to be, and do what I’m meant to do, and trust that God’s going to make sure the important things end up good.  Or at least I’m going to try.  Sometimes you’ve gotta do the dishes, just because they need to be done.

Castles

Confession time.  Deep, deep inside me is a secret desire.  This desire motivates most of the things I do, almost every single day.  It dictates who I am (or who I act like) most of the time, and it directly influences how I treat my friends and family and the people I work and live with.  This desire is also responsible for most moments of unrest and uncertainty in my life, and it has wrought a lot more harm than good within my soul.  Just like Jesus said it would.

Obviously, I’m talking about my life-long yearning to live in a freaking awesome castle.  I’ve got it all planned out.  I’ll earn money, make friends, stockpile knowledge and get a few defensive tools.  Everything I buy goes in the castle.  Everything I make goes in the castle.  Everything I learn goes in the castle.  Everything (and everyone!) I love goes in the castle.  As I build up my wealth of things and people and ideas and experiences, I’ll put up some walls.  And probably a moat.  And my castle will be sitting on a beautiful hill.  And it will definitely have those little windows that you can stick a bow-and-arrow through, to shoot at intruders.  And it will have a good carriage out front.  And nobody can get in except those I want to.  And I’ll be able to leave whenever I want to go help people or visit my friend’s castles or do other important things, but I’ll always have a safe, comfortable, warm, beautiful place to return to at the end of the night.  It will be mine, and it will be awesome.

And while castles are really, really great (I mean…come on! They’re castles! ), I wonder if they can also be really dangerous.  I know that when I focus on building my castle, I’m not focused on building communities.  Or churches.  Or gardens.  Or theaters.  Or soup kitchens.  I mean, on my better days I try to help build those things too, but only as much as I can without endangering the welfare of my personal castle.  I have this idea that in order to help people and do what Jesus wants me to do in this world, I need to have myself squared away.  I need to have my life in order before I worry about others.  This is a logical way to think.  It makes sense, and it’s responsible.  It has led to the success of many, many great people in the past.  But it can also be crippling.  Because we really like comfort, and I know that when I’m worrying about myself I’m not worrying about others.

I wonder what would happen if I tried building a community instead of a castle.  I would probably have less stuff, and that would probably be a pain in the butt sometimes.  I would probably be more dependent on other people, and that would probably be humiliating (or at least humbling) sometimes.  There’d probably be a lot more awkward moments, and there would definitely be more eye-rolls and difficulties.  I would definitely not be as efficient, and I definitely wouldn’t be as comfortable.  But I wouldn’t be as alone, either.  I would be forced to be more intentional with my time, and energy.  And I would have to try loving everybody, instead of just those I want to allow into my castle.

I guess that the kind of community Jesus is creating is one without walls.  Without moats or arrow-shooting holes in the wall or locks on the door.  And that kind of community is really scary to me, because some thief could just walk in the door and take what is mine.  Some crazy homeless man could just come and hurt me or my loved ones.  Somebody who is bigger and smarter and better looking than I am could just ride in on his white horse and stage a coup for the hearts of all my friends and loved ones and associates, leaving me in the dust with nothing.  But if I really believe what Jesus says, I can’t get hung up on that stuff.  Because like he says, the kind of stuff that really matters isn’t the kind you can put in a castle and protect with walls.  I think my life would be a lot better if I acted like I believed that, instead of saying I believed it and continuing to build my walls and moats and castle, just in case.  Lord, tear down my castle!

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Jesus, Love, Facebook, Humans.

I think that sometimes I try too hard.

It seems like, these days, most of my energy is spent trying to earn love that has nothing to do with what I do (like God’s, or my mother’s). When I’m not worried about that, I spend my time figuring out how to get others to like me. What clothes can I wear, to impress the people I like? What words can I say and books can I read to create a certain image of myself? What things should I like or dislike? What opinions should I hold, and how should I express them? Where have I messed up with all that in the past, and how can I avoid that now? These are the thoughts that fill my brain throughout the day…and that’s a waste. God has given me a brain, and a heart, and I firmly believe that those two organs die if they are not being used to relate with and help other people. We were designed to live with others–to love others–and when I’m running around worrying about my reputation and my image and my money and my life, I’m not worrying about the others that God asks me to love. My brain is only so big, after all.

I think that Facebook might contribute to this problem. I mean, sure. A website is just a website, and the internet doesn’t kill people–people kill people. But really. My generation grew up with things like Myspace and eHarmony and Facebook and billions of message boards and chat forums, and all of these things–intentionally or not–send the same message: you don’t have to be who you really are. This is a good message in some ways (the message of redemption is one of the most powerful themes within in the Gospel), but it can also be bad. You see, I have this idea in my head that people are walking Facebook profiles. All I need to do to find acceptance or community or love is find the people whose “interests” are sort of like mine, who are “fans” of the same kind of music or actors or Wishbone or Doug, or whose “about me” is something that I’m attracted to (which usually means rather witty or vaguely artistic). Come to think of it, it’d be really neat if people could just wear signs around their neck stating their political and religious views in a few words, as well as their relationship status and date of birth. And we should all just lug around a big portfolio of every picture that has ever been taken of us, candid or otherwise.

While making friends is definitely a good thing, and building communities is never bad, it’s important for me to keep in mind why I’m doing those things. I know that when I look at people as no more than walking Facebook profiles or a big list of political and religious opinions (whose clothes I may or may not like), I’m much more inclined to be self-centered in the relationships that I build with those people. And that’s a bad thing. Because people have value apart from what they can or can’t give me (like community or compliments or love), and because all people (Facebook profile or no!) deserve to be loved. Being human means loving people, and loving people means being selfless towards them.

For somebody like me, being selfless is a really hard thing to do. I’ve got too much street-cred and and far too many plans to just stop worrying about myself and start concerning myself with others. But that’s what I’ve got to do. And for me, it starts with prayer. I’m not sure about the mechanics of this whole “talking to God thing”…I figure he’s got that all worked out. I don’t know what exactly it means to pray for somebody, or how exactly I should go about doing that. But I do know that when I spend “my” time with God focused on talking to him about my friends and loved ones and enemies, my soul is better for it. Usually, I only think of other people in the context of how they affect me and my life–which is, really, how I think about God, as well. And I miss out on a lot of life because of that. The truest love is that in which both parties are completely invested in the other. And I can only invest in people (or God) my leftovers after I have invested in myself.

It’s been a long time since I’ve liked somebody for the sake of liking them, or spoken with God for the sake of hanging out with Him. And I think I want to start. So I’m going to try to stop worrying about improving myself, writing witty Facebook stati and analyzing where my soul is at in relation to God. And I’m going to try to start loving people. Which begins with helping them. Which begins with knowing them. Which begins with caring about them. Which begins with talking to them, and praying for them. Maybe after I get that part all figured out (as if that will ever happen!), I’ll have the time to start worrying about myself…but until then, I’m going to try to find some people’s feet to wash. And that kind of scares me…but God is always at his best when he’s a little scary.

God, help me love and serve my neighbors and enemies…because when I focus on loving and serving myself, nobody wins.

Rhythms

I’m not an athlete.

In fact, if somebody were to come up with a list that described what it looks like to be the absolute opposite of anything closely regarding physically fit or athletically inclined, I’m pretty sure I’d fit the bill to a ‘t’.  All that considered, though, I’ve recently taken up running.  It’s great.  It’s free.  You can do it wherever you want (except for maybe the ocean, or outer space, or on an airplane, mid-flight), and you can do it whenever you’d like (except for maybe during an interrogation, or at a funeral).  It’s always refreshing, and it almost always clears my head.  It’s also a tad addictive, and can lead to some fun adventures.  But that’s not why it appeals to me.  After thinking about it for a while (you run out of interesting things to think about pretty fast while you’re running by yourself), I’ve come to realize that it’s the rhythm that I like.

I also like rhythm in other areas of my life.  I like to have the same routine before going to bed.  I like to have a schedule that generally looks the same, from week to week.  I like to go to the same classes and sit next to the same people.  Usually, when I open my computer, I open the same applications in roughly the same order, and check the same websites–facebook, New York Times, Politico, email, blogs.  I drive up to Yuba-Gardens Middle school using the same route as I did the week previous, and my commute to Jessup, whenever I make it, only rarely varies depending on where I’m driving in from.  Though most of these routines are unintentional or simply convenient, I live a life of rhythm.  And I like that.

Through all of this talk about rhythm, though, I’m faced with a couple realities.  First, my rhythms and routines are always centered around myself, and second, there’s rarely room for God.  These two problems are pretty closely connected, and I’m convinced that to fix one is to correct the other.  So where to begin?

Some people fix this problem by injecting Jesus or love into their daily, weekly, monthly, or yearly rhythms.  Pray while you’re driving, or only listen to worship music in your car.  Read your Bible or pray for 30 minutes before you go to bed each night.  Go to church every Sunday, and say the right prayers or fast on all the sacred holidays.  I’m sure this works for those who commit to it and I’m certain that a love/Jesus-centered life includes all of these things, but I’ve found that when I try to do them without really changing anything else, nothing really changes (imagine that!).  It may just be my lack of self-discipline.  No doubt, if I could discipline myself better, I’d excel much more  at the spiritual life and at sports, than I do now.  But whatever it is, I’m not sure that injecting more Jesus into the same rhythms will bring about anything substantial…at least for me.

So, if simply adding to the rhythms and routines doesn’t work, what am I left with?  How can I change my selfish, loveless tendencies?

I’ve got to change the rhythms themselves.  Undoubtably, the time I’ve seen God work the clearest, and communicated with him the best, was when I was in India, absolutely void of any routine whatsoever.  Every day was different, new, and unplanned (that’s what happens when a guy like me is responsible for planning a trip), and many of the things we did were scary, nerve-wracking, and seemed dangerous or foolish (that’s also what happens when a guy like me is responsible for planning a trip).  We seldom knew how we were going to get where we needed to go, or what would be in store for us when we got there.  But God showed up through all of it, even when we didn’t plan for him to be there.  And he showed up in real-vivid ways that I could have only imagined before the trip.

So, since I’m not going back to India next week or this summer, what can I do to break through this comfortable, routine-dictated life I’ve created for myself, to live a life that is glorifying to God and reflective of the adventure and splendor and abundant live he has set in store for me–for all of us?  I can make it easy on myself.  I can make my routines and my rhythms–force them, even–to put me in the path of those God hangs out with, and those he commands me to help.  I can use up the extra gas and create a commute that takes me through the bad parts of town, offering a ride to whoever needs it.  I can give away more money than I fool myself into thinking I can afford to, just to appreciate the creative ways that God gives me what I need, as I do the same for others.  I can decide to intentionally break out of my rhythms every once and a while, and use that free time to love on somebody else.  Maybe one day I’ll go running during lunch (something I’ve never done), and spend my usual running time and energy listening to a friend talk about whatever they’d like to talk about.  Maybe one day I’ll write an essay early (which has never been a part of my routine.  Ever.), and use my planned all-nighter in prayer or hanging out with one of my Wyldlife boys or going on an adventure.

I don’t know.  There’s a limit to my creativity, just like there’s a limit to my athleticism and my self-discipline.  That’s what happens when you’re human.  But I do know one thing for sure.  We serve a God who meets us where we’re at, and promises to change those conditions for the better.  If I’m stuck in my self-centered, void of true, sacrificing love, materialistic rhythms and routines, that’s where God is going to meet me.  If I’m living an abundant life, full of surprise, love, intentional relationship-building, and care for my brother and sister and enemy, that’s where God is going to meet me.  Since I’d much rather God encounter me in the second place, I’m going to change my rhythms and routines in such a way that I can’t help but live as God wants me to.  I’m lazy, so I’m going to make it easy on myself.  I’m going to make my routines and rhythms expose to this things I’d rather not be exposed to, and put around those things and people that push me out of my comfort zone.  I’m going to set my car on auto-pilot and drive through the dark places with my fists clenched and my teeth gritted, until God molds me into the kind of person that loves those dark places, and the people in them–and then I’ll drive some more.  Beyond that, I’ll pray and show up.  Hopefully God will meet me there.

Prayer, according to Shaddy

Every few weeks or so, I get a call from a very good friend.  Rashad is one of the Jr. High boys that I hung out with in Reno a couple years ago, and he has taught me many spiritual lessons.  He’s had a very hard life, and lately has been moving around the country with his sister and her sons.  He lost his parents when he was fairly young, and when I met him in Reno he was in 8^th grade, attending the special education program at the local middle school–that was almost three years ago.  He doesn’t have it all together, and sometimes he forgets about simple things like how old he is or what school he goes what grade he’s in, or even the names of people he has met.  But he knows my phone number and wherever he’s at, he’ll give me a call every couple weeks, usually leaving a message in his rough, gravely voice, to the tune of: “hey Austin, this is Rashad.  When you get this message, I’ll call you back”.  It doesn’t always make sense, but Rashad always calls, leaves the same message, and then calls again (usually after I’ve gotten the message telling me that he’ll call me back).

When Shaddy calls, it’s usually awkward.  We haven’t lived in the same state for two years or so, and Rashad’s level of deep and critical thinking doesn’t really lend us with many suitable conversation topics to pull out of thin air.  When that’s coupled with the fact that neither of us have super interesting lives right now (past hanging out with friends, going to school, and trying to follow Jesus), our conversations really aren’t that meaty, deep, or full–or at least not as much as would qualify our conversations as ‘productive’ or ‘great’, in my mind.  But he calls, every 10 days or so, without fail.  We usually have a little 10 minute conversation (always about the same stuff, every day stuff), and then it’s done.  As short and awkward as these calls may be, I value them and look forward to them more than most calls I get.  First, I never know where he’s going to call me from–a pay phone at a gas station, his cousin’s cell phone…one day he called me from a payday loan office he was just passing by!–so that’s always fun and exciting to hear.  Deeper than that, though, I always look forward to getting calls from Rashad for another reason.  Simply put, he likes to talk to me, and I like to talk to him.

So often, I have an agenda.  When I call people, I ether want to discuss something specific, or ask some particular questions or make a request.  When I write letters, I do so because I have something on my mind that I want to address, or something that I want to give somebody.  When I hang out with my friends and loved ones, it’s usually because I want to ‘have a good time’, or to see a certain movie or band, or to go somewhere special.  Rarely ever do I simply hang out with or talk to somebody, just because I enjoy their company.  Just because I like them.

And I need to do more of that.

After my last ‘Shaddy call’, I started thinking about my prayers.  Every time I’ve prayed for at least the last month, I’ve had an agenda.  I can’t remember the last time I’ve spoken with God just to talk with God.  And I think that’s a problem.  You see, over the past couple months, Rashad’s calls have become my favorite part of the week.  And we’ve gotten to the point now where it’s no longer awkward.  Shaddy calls, we chat for a while, and it’s done.  Sometimes, we talk about Jesus, other times we don’t.  Sometimes we talk about important stuff, other times we don’t.  Sometimes we talk about his life and favorite t.v. shows, and sometimes we talk about school.  Sometimes we don’t really have anything to talk about, but that’s great too.  The thing is, what we talk about doesn’t really matter.  All that is important to us is being connected for that 10 minutes or so, once every couple weeks.  We simply enjoy each other’s presence and conversation.

What if I felt the same way about God?  What if I didn’t simply approach God when I wanted something from him or to feel something special or to cope with something?  What if I made an effort to talk to God just because?  About normal, every day things?  I believe that Rashad calls me for two main reasons.  First, he knows that I want to listen, and second, he knows that I care about him.  What if I actually believed that God was the same way?  What would my prayer life–my everyday life–look like?  I’d be a little less selfish, and a little more loving…that’s for sure.  And I’m sure that’s a good thing.

Dancing into the Kingdom (Jessup style)

Sometimes, I don’t believe in Jesus.

In the Sermon on the Mount, or what Brian McLaren calls his ‘Kingdom Manifesto’, Jesus lays out a pretty detailed example of what it looks like to follow him and to live in his Kingdom.  And I don’t live like that.

Every day I make decisions.  I choose what clothes I’m going to wear, what I’m going to eat, and how I’m going to treat people.  I choose to spend my time and energy on things that matter like relationships, learning, and God, or on things that don’t matter like video games, clothes, or money.  With every choice I make, I’m making a statement of belief.  I’m either choosing to believe in Jesus, his Kingdom, his values, and his life, or in the world, its values and toys and empires.

More often than not, I choose the world.

I have no faith, and no need of faith–I have my bank accounts and money for that.  I don’t love my enemies…sometimes I don’t even love my friends.  I often judge others by far steeper standards than I judge myself.  I don’t give my clothes away to the ones who need them very often, and I seldom go above and beyond any requests made of me unless somebody else is watching.  Too quickly do I look for excuses to continue my life as is, unaltered, comfortable and consistent…and too quickly do those excuses present themselves.  I’m usually more concerned about my life and my things than I am about anything or anyone else, and I tend to pass every choice I make through that filter.  And something tells me that you’re not any different.

But that doesn’t really matter, because I am not defined by any of those things.  They have all lost their power.  You see, I am salt.  I have inside of me a light that cannot be hidden, no matter how hard I try to snuff it out.  After he shows us what his Kingdom looks like and who will be there, Jesus tells all of the people listening that they are the ‘salt of the earth’ and the ‘light of the world’.  He doesn’t say “if you follow my teachings you are the salt of the earth”; he says simply, “you are the salt of the Earth”.  He doesn’t tell us that we’re only the light of the world if we believe in him or do loving things.  He says “you are the light of the world”.  Jesus was stating fact.  That is who we are.  As human beings, we bear the image of God.  We are beautiful.  We are loved creations who can reveal the “God-flavors” of the earth we’re living on.  And that doesn’t change, whether I believe it or not.

From here, Jesus gives us a warning.  He tells us that salt that isn’t salty is useless, and that light that doesn’t illuminate dark places doesn’t do much good.  And that’s where belief comes in.  Do I believe that Jesus and his Kingdom are the source of real life, and life to the full?  Do I believe that Love is the answer to all of the problems I face, even when everything I know is saying something different?  In my head, I certainly do.  In my heart and through my actions, I don’t as often as I should or could or want to.  But that doesn’t change who I am and what I was created for.  And that doesn’t change the fact that Love is the answer to everything.  And there is nothing I can do about that, save come along for the ride…which is pretty liberating (not to mention, fun).

I’m a pretty awkward person, and a terrible dancer.  Last night we had our ‘Spring Formal’, and this event managed to bring out both of those qualities.  The food was great, the music was wonderful, and for the first half hour or 45 minutes nobody danced.  We all sort of just stood around, making small talk and felling awkward.  And then we had a lesson in swing dancing from some awesome instructors.   Just like that, the ice was broken, the shoes came off, and raucous revelry became the name of the game.  As soon as I learned how to do a couple swing moves and move my feet to the rhythm (or somewhat close to the rhythm) of the songs, I cut loose with no hesitation whatsoever.  And the rest of the night was a super fun…for me at least.  After we broke through the beginning awkwardness and confusion and discovered what we were really there for, nothing could dampen our spirits or get in the way of us having a good time.  The music didn’t change, I didn’t become a better dancer or less socially awkward, and my partner was the same.  But I understood that I was there to have fun.  To dance.  I woke up to the reality of where I was, and once that happened many toes were broken, I made a fool of myself, and I had a stinking blast in the process.

What if God’s Kingdom is the same way?  We’re here, living.  We are image-bearers of God, with unlimited potential.  We are salt of the earth, light of the world.  We simply have to break through the awkwardness and confusion, and stumble our way through the first couple steps, and then dance like there’s no tomorrow.  The best part is that God’s our partner, whether we like it or not.

Jesus, teach me how to dance…and stumble along with me while I’m learning.  Thank you for loving me and believing in me, whether I return the favor or not.  Help me do the former more often than the latter, for the sake of everyone.

Thinking and talking

We do a couple things really well at Jessup; we think a lot, and we talk about it.  Sometimes we debate.  Sometimes we discuss.  Sometimes we dialogue.  Sometimes we just plain argue.  Whatever you choose to call it, however, the fact remains that most of my time and energy here has been spent either thinking or talking.  Over the past three or four months, I’m sure that I’ve discussed more theology and literature and philosophy than ever before.  I’m definitely learning new things up here every day, and my personal opinions and thoughts are always growing and expanding.  And that’s a good thing.  In fact, I think that what’s happening here at Jessup is reflective of the American Evangelical church as a whole.  We evangelicals really like to think, talk, and argue.  It’s part of our identity, and it’s definitely a fun way to pass the time and to give our selves meaning and importance, two things which I think are really crucial to living a good life.

But what if there’s more?  What if we’re missing out on some stuff?  Some of God’s kingdom?  What if we’re missing out on part of life?

I’m really embarrassed about something.  Almost every time I sit through a sermon in church, I get bored.  And it’s getting worse.  Back in the old days, it’d be alright.  I’d go to church, sing the songs and be super into it, and then maybe just doze off around the 33rd minute or so of the pastor’s lecture, only to catch myself pretty quick and force myself to listen and stay awake for the rest of the time.  Or I’d listen for a while, check out to count the celling tiles for a bit, maybe draw some alien attacks and super-hero battles in my moleskin, and then listen again for a while.  But not so, anymore.  It’s bad.  As soon as the pastor steps up to the podium, I find myself reaching for my bible or notebook.  Not to follow along or underline things or take notes, but to distract myself.  I can’t even stick with most speakers or teachers through the first ten minutes these days.  And it bums me out!  Surely, I’m missing out on whatever wisdom or knowledge these guys have to tell me.  Plus, it’s just a jerk thing to do.  These people are taking time out of their day to give a message that they obviously think is pretty important.  And I repay them by not listening.  Horrible.  But as I think about more and more, I’m faced with the fact that I’m just not interested in what they’re saying.

Quite frankly, I’m just sick and tired of thinking, listening, and talking.  And that sort of makes me feel bad, but it’s true.  I’ve just had enough.  I know why I’m not a Calvinist, and I know what I think about the Bible and inerrancy and the Emergent church, and I know what I think about Jesus being God.  I know that I don’t believe in literal six day creation, and I know what I think about heaven and hell, and the reality of both of those places.  I know that I agree with N.T. Wright and Francis Chan and Jesus on most things, and that I disagree with Mark Driscoll a lot.  But as I go deeper and deeper into this list, I’m hit with something pretty huge.

It doesn’t really matter.

I’m missing the point.

We do another thing pretty well here at Jessup.  We’re constantly giving our students opportunities to serve.   Last Saturday, I went down to one of the biggest mega-churches in the city to help out some homeless people with a couple of other students.  We teamed up with around 30 other volunteers from the church and went down-town to hand out food, clothes, and hope to some of the poorest of the poor.  And it was amazing.  For the first time in a while, I was able to look into the eyes of the people who Jesus says will inherit his kingdom.  And I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed that.  Because it’s life-giving.

Earlier today, I got to go hang out with some of my Jr. High friends during their lunch period up in Olivehurst and just talk about life and rain and relationships and hurt and normal things.  And it was refreshing.  Because it was life-giving.

Sometimes, in the midst of all this knowledge (and there’s quite a bit of that floating around here at WJU), I think we can miss something.  And that something is life.  Jesus says that we’re not going to find real life unless we give our current ones away, and I struggle with putting that into action while I’m busy pontificating and refining my theological opinions and finding my identity in that.  To be sure, knowledge is fun and important and I love it (indeed, I’m too much of a nerd for anybody to argue otherwise!).  But that’s not all there is.  And there’s a kind of life that you can only get from living with and loving your brothers and sisters.  And that’s the kind of life I’m interested in right now…the kind I’m drawn to.  It’s the kind of life that is irresistible, if we do it right.  The kind that we were created to have.  The kind that’s right.  There comes a point when words are shallow…when ideas and doctrines no longer suffice as explanations for the reality we are experiencing and the God we are discovering.  And that’s okay.  Because we weren’t created for words or ideas or doctrines or religions.  We were created for life–and while life includes those things, it’s certainly not limited to them.  Lucky for us, God can’t be limited, and he has given us the kind of life we need.  May we wake up to that, and look outside our boxes.

Austin Thomas is.

I’ve got and identity issue.  By ‘identity issue’ I mean that I just don’t know who I am sometimes.  And it seems to me that college just compounds that feeling.  Up here at Jessup I’m surrounded by people I either want to be like or want to impress…and I guess that’s good, in some ways.  Being around such amazing people certainly makes me more inclined to do amazing things like write more poetry, read more books, be a nicer person, do more adventurous things and tell more funny stories, or actually pay attention to the clothes that I wear and the words that I say.  But it’s also got a negative effect…and by ‘it’s also got a negative effect’, I mean that I just don’t know who I am sometimes.

While I may not know who I am sometimes, I do know a couple things.  My name is Austin Thomas and I’m 19 years old.  I like to read, write, and think.  I learned to play guitar when I was in high school to impress girls and play for Young Life club and I really only do one of those things these days (the latter, if you’re wondering), but I like to make music, too.  I also love to teach, and to do live-giving things like hang out with my middle school friends or worship with widows and lepers and street kids or partake in a spontaneous playground game with whoever happens to be around.  I worked for Barack Obama’s presidential campaign, and I’m a nerdy fellow who gets excited for things like the Large Hadron Collider, new Star Wars novels, or ridiculously long film adaptations of great British books.  I’m a sucker for coffee, coffee shops, and hole-in-the-wall bookstores.  I wish that I could grow a full beard and play the banjo, because if I ever did that I’m reasonably certain that all of my wildest folklore dreams would come true.  I care a lot about poverty, injustice, and love (the kind we’re supposed to show our neighbors), and I’m sure that whatever I do when I grow up will involve those three things.  When I was in Jr. High, I just knew that I was going to be the next Eminem, because I aint frontin, goon.  I am surrounded by a group of amazing friends and an amazing family, and I strive to do them proud some day.

And that’s just the beginning.  But it should also be the end.  Because none of that stuff matters.  Of course, by ‘because none of that stuff matters’ I mean that it’s insanely important to me in my life right now, because that’s how I define myself.  These are the things that I use to figure out who I am.  That list of qualities and quirks and facts and dreams, that’s where I find my value.  That’s where I find my identity.

And that’s the problem.

Because I have identity issues.  And so do you.  And so does Barack Obama.  And so does every human who has ever existed, except for Jesus.

And that’s the answer.

I mean, let’s think about it.  That’s really what sin is, isn’t it?  One big, messy, global identity issue?

We don’t believe that we’re humans, we believe that we’re Gods.  Our entire lives are dedicated to either making life as comfortable as possible for ourselves and our loved ones, or making sure that other people will remember us after we die…making sure that we’re immortal.  And that’s what God is supposed to worry about, isn’t it?

We don’t believe that we’re stewards, we believe that we’re consumers, free to use and abuse, with little regard to the consequence.  Cars, clothes, toys, energy, all of those things exist to make my life better.  Friends or pretty girls.  They exist for my use, to be consumed and then dropped once they’re expired or not useful to me any more.  Church is there for me to get ‘filled up’, so that I can have a ‘right relationship with God’.

And that’s really the answer, isn’t it?  Jesus?  God incarnate?  Jesus ‘your sins have been forgiven’ Christ, the Risen Lord?

So, we’ve got an identity issue.  And by ‘identity issue’, I mean that we just don’t know who we are sometimes.  Because really, we’re stewards.  We’re humans.  We are children of Jesus, adopted into his family and lovingly created and planned out since “before the foundation of the world” (Ephesians 1:4).

And I have a hard time buying that sometimes.

But that’s okay.

In fact, it’s natural.

And it doesn’t change the fact that my identity lies in Christ, and not in the things of this world.

I’ve just got to figure out how to wake up to that, and God’s made that a lot easier by putting me around such amazing people, some who I want to impress, and others who I want to be like.  So I’m going to give it a shot.  Austin Thomas is God’s son. God’s creation. God’s love.  And I can’t fit that in a little box on the internet asking “about me”…even though I try to…every day.  But that’s okay.  Because through all of that, there’s love, and we can only make love our identity by loving each other.  And I can do that.  May we all try!

It’s great to be back!

It’s great to be back!

Jobs are starting, homework is getting assigned, we’re all starting to get back into a general routine, and it’s great to be back!

As I made my way through this break, and even the first couple weeks of school, a certain theme kept popping up.  We are a broken people.  Over break, I got to spend some time with a couple of the boys that I had mentored when I lived in Reno.  And they had broken lives.  Lives full of pain and let-downs…disappointment and trouble.  Spending some time with my family members revealed the same thing happening in all of their lives.  We had done things to hurt each other in the past.  We do things that hurt other people all the time.  Most of the time, we hurt ourselves in the process.  We’re a broken people.

As I returned to Jessup, this theme intensified a bit.  A friend of mine going through a really hard season in her life.  Broken.  Another buddy dealing with some really tough, deep, identity-affecting events.  Broken.  A room full of teenagers up at Young Life camp, praying together, worshiping together, crying together, sharing their pain and insecurity and hurt together.  Broken.  In a meeting for one of my new jobs at school, a group of people worried and stressing and full of anxiety.  Broken.  And this is just some of it.  But that’s not the crazy part.

The crazy part is that all of this hasn’t made me sad.  In fact, it’s had quite the opposite effect.  And it’s not because I’m some crazy guy who likes seeing other people hurt.  Indeed, I think that I owe it to what God has allowed to accompany all of these “brokenness incidents.”

Upon returning to my life up here at Jessup, to my homework and my jobs and my meetings and my friends, I’ve really been struck by something in addition to the hurt of my friends.  Oddly enough, I’ve been struck by the power of love.  Of community.  There’s immense power in these two things, because it’s what we were created for.  We were created for shalom, which means nothing missing, nothing broken.  And living in a (generally) Christ-centered community full of genuine people who love one another and care for one another is a great way to experience that.

Today for Chapel, we broke up by class and I had the amazing opportunity of hanging out with the Juniors.  It was an awesome time of fellowship, as we sang together, prayed together, and said the Lord’s Prayer corporately.  Through it, God provided some perspective for all of this stuff I’ve been thinking about.  Psalm 113 says that we should praise the name of the Lord, both now and forever.  Even when we’re hurt, even when we’re broken.  Because he is good.  He is love.  He is caring.  He is shalom.  He is working through us to change the world.  He is working through the world to change us..  And in that perspective, our brokenness is really quite beautiful.  Yeah it hurts, yeah it sucks.  But that isn’t the important thing…because God’s already taken care of all that.  The important thing is that, in addition to all of this, God has given us an opportunity to be a shalom-people.  He’s given us people to love, and people to care for.  He’s given us community, and he’s given us friends.  And this is what I’ve found, upon returning to school and schedules and books and homework these past weeks.

We’re all broken.  But God’s given us the chance to be broken together…and because of this, it’s great to be back!

Christmas

Merry Christmas, my friends!

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the date that’s quickly approaching.  Since it’s now the 16th, most of my brain waves have been spent trying to figure out what I’m going to get for whom, and whether stealing is an acceptable way to procure my gifts, being the poor college student that I am.  At the same time, I’ve been making lists and thinking about about the kinds of things that I hope to get.  All of this has caused me to reflect on the idea of Christmas and how the earth-shattering event that we celebrate through Christmas alters the way that we think about gifts and toys and things.

The biggest struggle for me up here at William Jessup has been being away from my family and friends in Reno.  While I’ve been blessed with an absolutely amazing community up here (I’m writing this blog in a tiny coffee shop down-town, hanging out with some of my favorite buddies), I still miss the family that I left in Reno.  Indeed, I’ve never been away from so many of my family and friends for such an extended period of time…and that’s sort of hard, sometimes.  As I’ve been mulling over all of this for the last couple days, I’ve realized that the thing I’m most excited about for Christmas break is the people that I’m going to visit.  In the midst of Christmas lists and gift ideas and shopping and greed, I’ve been hit with the realization that if I don’t get any new things this Christmas, I’ll still have the best Christmas of my life.  Because I’m going to see my family and my friends.  I’m going eat with them and play games with them and laugh with them and watch movies with them and hug them.  We’re going to get together when I get home and we’re going to be humans together.  And that’s going to be good.  Because that’s what we were created to do together.  I can tell, because when I think about it, my chest starts thumping and my brain starts twirling and I get excited.  Being humans together is how we express our love for each other.

And that’s really what we’re celebrating on the day that’s coming up here in a little over a week…isn’t it?  God saw that we needed life, and he came down to give it to us.

As a human.

He came down as a baby, who cried and laughed and smiled and had to be fed by his mother.  He came down to hang out with us.  He came down to play games with us, and laugh, and hug, and eat and party with us.  He came down to be a human with us.  And he did that because he’s crazy about us.  Because when he thinks about seeing us, his chest starts to thump a little and his mind starts spinning like nothing else.  Because that’s how we’re created to love each other, and he created us in his image.

So, as we wade through Christmas lists and reams of wrapping paper and crazy store crowds and credit card bills…maybe we should think about ways to be human together?

Nice things are really fun and cool and appealing and good–that’s what makes them nice things.  It’s been pretty easy for me to get caught up in the world of nice things, up at Jessup where there a lot of really nice people–who I have begun to love–with a lot really nice things.  And there’s not really anything wrong with that…in moderation.  But what if we’re picking the wrong day to focus on nice things?  We have 364 other days to spend in the world of nice things…worrying about how to get more of them or how to get less of them…worrying about what to buy for whom, or whether stealing them is okay…worrying about whether we should worry about them.

What if on Christmas day, in memory of our savior who came down to be a human with us, we simply worried about being human with each other?  What if that was our gift to each other?  What if we really celebrated what we say when we call “Jesus the reason for the season”?

This year, that is what I want to shoot for.  And yeah, I’ll still give some gifts to some loved ones.  And I’m sure I’ll receive my fair share, as well.  But if being up at Jessup has taught me anything this semester, it’s that we can be humans in the midst of worrying about really nice things.  All it takes is some talking and laughing and hugging and eating.  So I’m going to go out of my way to give those kind of gifts, too.  Because that’s the kind of gift that Jesus gave me…and when I think about that, my chest starts thumping.