With a lack of maturity

I have a confession to make.

I am very critical.

while many times this is just plain wrong, I think God even uses our negative characteristics to show us things about "life, love, and happiness," so to speak.

so, I am indeed very critical. and the other day, I was taking a good look at our generation.
we are a people screaming for rights. for freedom. for privelidges. but we are so immature.

it started on Valentines Day, this train of critical, yet thought-provoking, thinking.
I looked around at girls with their boyfriends, boys with their girlfriends, and I thought to myself, "wow, what the heck did they see in him? in her?"

that's the critical part.

here's the thought-provoking part:

I pondered this for awhile. I couldn't help but be reminded of it. it was freaking Valentine's Day, and everywhere I turned I saw it. Then it hit me.

we are so immature.
we're not willing to go deep.

what do I mean by this?
well, I'll tell you.

these relationships; they don't last long. they don't go very deep. they're shallow. seriously, how deep can you expect to get when you're going through a few boyfriends or girlfriends in a single school year? it can be very superficial. now, don't get me wrong, I've witnessed relationships that have indeed gone deep. they're a  beautiful thing to see. but unfortunately, most just don't make it that far. they hastily, immaturely we could even say, get themselves into a relationship then realize a little while later "woops, that was a mistake." let's break it off.

alright, so now let's take it past girlfriends and boyfriends.
let's take it to your friends.

who are your friends?
are they willing to challenge you?
do they want  you to grow?
will they counter something you say just to make you think?

I'm pretty convinced that that is a sign of true love in a friendship. when they want to make you think. when they want to see you grow.

I was sitting in the Barnes and Noble Cafe today, and as I looked around, I couldn't help but notice the people in there. Nearly all of them were having discussions, really good discussions. One man was talking to his pastor about some of the man's teaching, clarifyings things. Two men were discussing some politics and problems in America. Others looked just so intent on their discussions. I loved it. these people were aware of what was going on around them. they wanted to go deeper. they wanted to discuss things, toss around ideas, deepen their knowledge.

they wanted to grow.

I love coffee shops. and one of the main reasons is because of the people that gather there. these intellectual, aware, thought-provoking people.

so, back to my main point.

we live in a generation where being aware just takes too much time. we don't like spending time on such things.
we don't want to take the time to sit. talk. discuss. dive deep. challenge each other. mature.
we're all about "just livin'"

once again, don't get me wrong.
we're all not an immature bunch of kids. and coffee-shop people aren't perfect.
but I do think that maturity, knowledge, and awareness is something that we could definitely do a little more striving for. 

I'm not entirely sure I expressed that the way it sounds in my head.
some things are just hard to write out.

but, speaking of maturity, I "triple dog dare" you to

ask someone you love a thought-provoking question.

something more than "if you were stuck on a deserted island, and you could only have TWO things..."
no.
that won't work.
make 'em think. make 'em wrestle with it. challenge them.

I dare you (:

yes, I realize it's been a whole hour and a half since I last posted, but I just had to (:

I'm reading Searching For God Knows What by Donald Miller. That man never ceases to amaze me. He describes Paul, the apostle Paul, as a man. writing by candlelight in a stranger's home. He is passionate. He is lonely. He is real.

Donald Miller describes the Bible as artistic. Moses, when writing, would break into poetry at random intervals. just to capture emotion. David was a passionate poet. John the evangelist wrote everything boldly. The Bible is a collection of art, words, love letters from God. it's not a manual. it's not the "3-steps To Salvation" guide. it's beautiful.

I have a journal, and I like to write in it, late at night, when all the creative, artistic juices are flowing. I usually start out with an idea, a technical idea, but it dissolves, linearly with my handwriting, which goes from neat print to cursive. I like cursive. it's artistic.

When reading this particular passage in Mr. Miller's book, I got a picture in my head of Paul, sitting up, late at night, writing in his journal of letters to his friends. and all of a sudden, his hand turns to writing cursive, linearly with his deepening passion for the truth he is conveying through his words. flowing, artistic. beautiful.

I'm sure Paul had better handwriting than me.

as I read this, I got an incredible urge to write. and to read. I wanted so badly to read some of Paul's passion. some of his God-inspired art. God-infused art.
just the introduction to the book of Romans brought tears to my eyes.

it was pure beauty.

pure, Holy Spirit-inspired art.

real men behind real words. real words inspired by a real God, who is even more passionate, artistic, and beautiful than the writers of the Bible and the words they recorded.

I used to view the Bible so technically. Do this. Do that. Don't do this. Get that. Be rewarded with this. Don't do that. but it's not like that at all. that Bible is boring. tedious. not something I wanted to read.
it's like a painting. each co-author inspired by God to pour all of their passion into their individual color in the painting. and that painting is Christ's passionate word.

and it is pure art.

Currently Listening Where You Live By Tracy Chapman see related

hmm.
hrmm.

I have tried to post so many times since Thailand.
but I can never think of what to say.

so here goes nothing.

first off, let's just say I'm majorally jetlagged. sometimes it's kind of nifty being able to stay up until 3 AM without feeling tired...nifty until 3 PM the next day that is. then all I want is a nap or the world's largest cup of coffee. however, it does come in handy on nights like this when I have an entire speech to write before the next day.

but that's not the point.

how do you describe an experience like serving in Thailand?
I spent 10 days of my life, thrown together with many people I didn't know to take care of children, teach english, laugh, play, and grow along with kids. just your average kid...who is the only white person in their small village in malaysia. vietnam. thailand. china. laos.

just your average kid, eh?

they were precious. sure, sometimes working with mass amounts of 8-11 year olds can make you want to pull your hair out, but in a good way. you only have 3-4 days with them. 3-4 days to make an impression. to make an impact. to encourage them. to build them up. to love them.
I'm noticing a reoccuring theme of love lately. before I left, during the trip, post-trip. it's like I'm drowning in a big pool of convicting love...only not all of it's mine. most of its God's. and He's letting me try to put out a little of my own.

I'm not doing very well.
until He finds the problem. the leak. He comes along side me and helps me fix it and says "there you go! good as new! now you're ready to love."

love who?

that difficult child that won't sit still and obey.
that frustrating team-mate that has different views than my own.
that parent that always seems to pick up their kid late when all I want to do is finally get a break.
that flight attendant that keeps serving me nasty food!

ok, so that last one was a joke.

kind of.
haha.

but really.
maybe that difficult child has a hard time being in a room with a lot of other kids his age. he's not used to it.
maybe it's ok for that team-mate to be different. some things just aren't important enough to break fellowship over.
maybe that parent hasn't had a child-care opportunity since the last conference they attended. even super-parents need a break.

I've been washed in love.
maybe it's time I start giving back a little more.
washing others' feet in the same love I've been cleansed by.

well, next stop: Honduras.
more opportunities for love.

just 6 days before I head off to Washington DC, and from there: Thailand.

I'm not sure how it's all going to get done. the school, the packing, the little preparations that always seem to add up rather quickly.

prayer would be greatly appreciated. stress will be high this next week. the devil will be in prime attack mode. pray for peace. strength. clearness of mind. health. safety.

pray for the families attending. pray for the kids we, as teens, will have an impact on.

pray for love.

sometimes it's hard to love kids after 3 days of them testing the limits of your patience.
under normal circumstances, I couldn't watch a kid for more than 3 hours.
but on this trip, these kids become a source of joy for me.

I can't wait to see them. to meet them. to learn their names, their personalities, their favorite color or cookie.
I love them.

and that is God-given.

pray for love. God-given love.

seeing miracles

my sister told me a story today as we sat in Starbucks pretending to do homework.
Her evangelism teacher was talking about miracles. He said that even changed lives are miracles.
"Have any of you ever seen a miracle? A changed life?"

she replied with, "I have. My sister."

I almost started crying. Sometimes it feels like I'm not moving forward. Like God hasn't brought me very far in life. Like I accepted Him, and that was the end of the journey.

I feel like that a lot. too often we forget where we were before God took our hand and said "Come with me. Be my child. I love you, despite your pain, your bitterness, your confusion. I love you too much to let you stay like this. Please, just come." and that pull is irresistable.

and so I looked back. way back. I looked back at what He brought me from.

There was a time in my life, and when I look back, it all seems very dark. My flesh didn't want God, but He wouldn't let me go. It took love, patience, and more than I even know to bring me out of it. He held my hand the whole way. When I pulled away, distracted and confused, He held on tight, even if it was just to a finger or two.

I read my journal. the one I used to keep and write in when I was angry. Honestly, it's like reading someone else's words. They're painful. They're desperate. They're hopeless. They're bitter. Every time I read them, I think "Are these really mine?"
they scream for comfort. love. protection. security.

imagine pages upon pages of such words.
I tried to write them here, but I can't. they're really very hard to read.

All things happen according to His will.

and here is the end of that very same journal.

The Lord
Who has given light to the blind man's eyes
Restored His people
Raised the dead
Brought thousands to His name!
Only our Lord
Only our Strong Deliverer
The King who was and is and is to come
Only Yah-Weh!

I stand in wonder and humbled silence
Wondering what I've done to receive Your grace.
The Lord of hosts, who alone is holy
I give my life to seeking Your face.

Pride has no place in the light of Your glory
Kings throw their crowns at Your feet
We bow down and worship in Your presence
You've taken the strong and through Your strength made them weak.

 look back and see what the Lord has done.