But We Were Working So Hard Towards Something Beautiful

I read an article in Newsweek yesterday that made me shiver just a bit. It's from Newsweek's section entitled Belief Watch and this particular episode concerned the beliefs of Sarah Palin. It's probably best that you just go ahead and read the article yourself.

Read

The

Article.

I don't want to say much about besides suggesting that this can't be the only way. I myself have felt pressured to politically lean a certain way by those who are trying to express there faith because of my own and can attest to how uncomfortable it can be. I am not trying to insinuate that Palin is wrong in her beliefs--that would be unfair and rather unfounded. I am simply noting religion's ugly power to breed anger, resentment, inequality, insecurity etc--especially in political conquests. These things, in my opinion, are not of God but of our own tendency to really foul things up. It is going to be increasingly important to separate ourselves from the tendency to polarize and fight the urge to use 'us verse them' language; as Christians, as Americans and as humans. There seems to be a lot at stake.

Obama on Race

I just finished listening to Barack Obama's speech on Race that he delivered as a result of some remarks made by his former pastor Jeremiah Wright, which were deemed by many as racist and by Obama as divisive. I was highly encouraged as to his abilities to think beyond the criticisms and fears his relationship with Wright has generated as well as his already proved ability to unite and de-polarize controversial and divisive issues.

Beyond the nit-picky issues of both candidates, Barack has, in my opinion, established himself as the candidate who can do the best work to break down the stigmas and divisions which plague politics. Where McCain and Hillary polarize the political landscape I feel that Obama can reach to a greater portion of the spectrum and unite the most people around the betterment of ourselves--or towards a more perfect union, as Barack put it. At least I really, really hope so.

From His Speech:

But I have asserted a firm conviction - a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people - that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice is we are to continue on the path of a more perfect union.

You really out to go listen to his speech now.

The Gospel and the Government

Again, like my last entry, this is a subject I don't feel entirely comfortable or competent discussing. Please read the first paragraph of 'Compassion vs. Justice' to get a feel for what I mean and why I still am going to write.

I have been fairly lethargic about my polemecy for most of my life. It all just seemed so polarizing and cutthroat that I wasn't seeing issues or movements, I was just seeing arguments and divisions. The first campaign I was ever old enough to vote in was the presidential elections of 2004. This proved to be a less than inspiring first experience with voting and I think I voted just because I believed that you should. Neither candidate seemed like the best of Americans, which really, the president should be.

One thing that I have been serious about for a large chunk of my teen and early adult years has been my faith. This has looked different and the expressions of it have changed over the years. Lately, I have been consumed with the idea of justice. I think that justice can be defined by different groups with different ideas in very different ways; in that way it can be a very relative term. However, the justice I have been seeking to define is that of the gospel story of Jesus. The kind of justice Jesus displayed when he was overturning tables in the temple and when he was rebuking the pharisees and religious know-it-alls of his day, that’s what I’m after. And the justice Jesus showed to lepers, the blind and the crippled. I expanded on some of my ideas about justice in my last post; you can go there if you want more.

I bring this idea back up because during the increasingly heated presidential primary race I have been thinking some about how the ideas of the gospel carry over into government and politics. What I mean is that I have been considering how my vote and my opinions do and don't/can and can't reflect the radical and revolutionary teachings of the gospel.

Well, actually, I guess that was a bit of a misnomer. I probably led you to believe that I was going to talk about how to live the gospel in politics...my bad, not quite ready for that one. I've always thought that a firm structure of theory needs to be developed before it starts getting all gussied up with practice. Well, maybe in theory I don't believe that...I'll stop.

I guess the question that has really been on my mind is whether or not the gospel and politics are compatible. Whether or not a government could be run following the ideas of the gospel—turn the other cheek, placing the needs of others before your own, et cetera.

As I thought about these questions I thought about the gospel and about Jesus. I thought about how He wasn't consumed with being a citizen of Galilee but rather a citizen of the kingdom of God. I thought about how He spent almost no time arguing with the political and religious giants of his day—the Pharisees—while still undermining and changing the structure of both politics and religion for history. I thought about how He declined the devils offer to rule the lands and didn't appease all those who thought he was going to be a political ruler, but instead became a king in a different way...in a way no one suspected.

Of course Jesus was Jesus, and we (or at least certainly I) are/am something far less. But I think we can still be, as followers of Jesus, people who think out of the box. People who defy the standard. People who don’t fit the mold people think we will, but do what is right in a way that is radical. A people who seek justice, compassion and mercy before revenge, defense and policy. The latter mentioned things are still important, but if we were to seek to be citizens of God’s kingdom before citizens of a particular country or political party they seem to be less important.

What does this mean for voting or political activism? Well, I think that it means there is room to wiggle. No candidate, so far as I can tell, completely embraces the ideas of the gospel and certainly if someone had they have long lost out (somehow I don’t think turning the other cheek or tithing or putting others countries interests before the interests of our own would be the most popular platform). I’m going to vote and I’ll vote for the candidate that I feel makes the biggest strides towards compassion and justice; the candidate that will change the most policies which are not in alignment with these things. But I’ll try to remember my place in God’s kingdom, working to reach this world—to be a peace maker and a kingdom bringer—before I get to caught up in a political scene and forget that Jesus redefined justice by thinking outside of the box and that we can continue to try and radically pursue it.

Love, Love, Love.

There is more often than not a feeling that I am not myself. That there is another me. Moreover, that there is a me that I was supposed to be and that there is some sort of fraud that I am trapped being and left wondering who that other person is. This stems from a myriad of personality disorders: I care too much about what other people think, I am obsessed with the aesthetic, I lack confidence. Those of you who know me pretty well probably understand a lot of what I am saying. For those of you who only kind of know me, this might come as a bit of a shock. You see, these characteristics of mine necessarily lead me to present to you the best me I can conjure up...well, when I'm not too freaked out that you might not like the me I present. I struggle with balancing relationships. I always feel like I am abandoning or letting others down when I move from one place to another, in and out of lives and communities. I can't seem to figure out how show love to my girlfriend, my family, my friends, YoungLife kids, random people...anyone really. And, rereading that sentence I notice that the problem is intrinsic in the question itself. I wrote, I can't figure out how to show love. Was love really what I was desiring, I would have simply asked how I could love. However, all to often I find myself being way more caught up in showing love than actually loving. The difference, however subtle it may seem, is enormous. It is the difference between happiness and joy and between deception and honesty--it was the difference between Judas and John. You see, I understand love to be an amazing and important thing. I certainly give it a lot of lip service and really, I do desire it and to serve others through love. I understand God to be love and I am sure that His ways are worth seeking. Still, somehow I've gotten caught up in the presentation, in the motion and the patterns. As the expressions of my love continue to change and mature I can't seem to kick this hindering veil of image. Surely there is not perfect love outside of that of the Father and I can't expect to ever possess such a thing but I desire deeply to throw off what hinders and I have for a while now known that my quest for the appearance of love is problematic. Because of the freedom I experience by grace, I will work to know what authentic love is. I will take steps to feel, understand and accept perfect love. And I have hope that these steps, repeated endlessly, will give this life and love a passion and purpose.


I share all this to expose myself; to expose this imposter I see too often and rediscover who I was meant to be, and to make some of my old patterns more difficult and to continue to work towards letting these things go moving towards the freedom of grace. I have no misconception--such a lofty goal as authentic love isn't born out of a single blog post or confession. Rather, the things of God are beautifully elusive and it is my hope that this is just a part of the journey or a page of the conversation.

From the Mundane to the Sacred

We watched Rob Bell's Nooma video entitled 'breathe' tonight at Campaigners. For those of you unfamiliar, Rob Bell is pastor of Mars Hill Church in Grandville, Michigan and the Nooma series are a collection of sermonettes delivered by Rob and a first rate crew of cinematographers. They are excellent videos and Rob Bell has an amazing and unique heart for the world and for God. Oh, and Campaigners is a sort of small group for YoungLife.

In the video Rob Bell talks about the name of God in Hebrew. YHWH. These for letters seem to not go together all that well in English, namely because they are missing vowels, and it turns out that they also don't really go together that well in Hebrew either. In fact, the Hebrew pronunciation isn't all that different from the English. Not Ya-way like some would say, but yhwh. Say it to yourself once or twice right now phonetically. yhwh. It sort of sounds like breathing doesn't it? This name was ascribed to God by the Hebrews precisely because it does sound like breathing. That way every muttered breath is like breathing the name of God. This means that the name of God, yhwh, is constantly on our lips—even when we are not aware. Yhwh is on our lips even when we are studying or jogging or cooking. The first thing we do when brought into this world is speak yhwh. And the last thing we do before we die is the same; we speak yhwh.

God isn't so far away. Really, it's about looking, listening, feeling, smelling and tasting for God. We have been gifted with a myriad of senses which make up the human experience and I would argue that we are given these to experience God.

Makes everyday seem a bit more important. A bit more meaningful. A bit more sacred.

Cuidad Juarez

I am returning to one of my favorite places in a few weeks: Mexico. Honestly, I can't even wait. This will be my fourth trip to the country and the third to a border town. In fact, this will be my second time building houses in the colonials outside of Juarez. The realness, the humanity, the need displayed in the people make my heart beat a little different. It always blows me away as I drive from one desert town across the border to another. The cultural and economic differences are stark. They may be our neighbors, but a lot of the time it doesn't necessarily feel like it and all too often we revel in the glory of an 'out of sight, out of mind' attitude. Having the veil lifted to see anew a people in desperate need makes sense of the human plight. I find myself thinking, it isn't all about that, because here there's this...there's a lot more to the story.

I am going down over New Years to get more filled in on the story. A group of 15 or so and I are going down to build a house, to see the change, to feel the people.

Aaron wrote this about Juarez and our trip:

Ciudad Juarez sprawls across the desert landscape, a mirror image of El Paso reflected out from the Rio Grande. To say it is an enormous place does not do the city justice. By some estimates, Ciudad Juarez grows by 50,000 to 60,000 people per year. As the population rises, so does its influence. It is, in many ways, at the epicenter of the social, political, and economic changes that are rocking the borderlands, that distinct cultural space riding the line between Mexico and the United States. The drugs used by your college friends pass through Juarez. The blinds hanging from the window of your bedroom were made in Juarez. And the wall separating the United States and Mexico was first conceived of, and built, outside of Juarez. But behind the political is always the personal. Life in Juarez, like in many of the newly industrialized global cities, is very difficult. It is expensive, dangerous, and hard. Minimum wage hovers around 5 dollars a day, but the high price of everything from land to milk would suggest otherwise. For many of the people fleeing rural poverty in southern Mexico, there simply is no way to get ahead. Casas Por Cristo is the chance to provide one of the four basics: food, water, shelter, and medical care. These are the things that make survival possible. We have no illusions. We are not changing the dynamics of poverty and systemic inertia that have trapped people in houses made out of cardboard, crushed tin, and pallets. But we can give one house. We can piece together the money and make ourselves present. Open ourselves to the possibility that hope and renewal always start one person at a time.


I anxiously await seeing God move in the lives of those effected by Casas por Cristo and in our own lives. I anxiously await better understanding the story of how our humanity meets God's divinity.

Chillin in MT

There's a blizzard outside. The first big snow storm of the year has migrated from the West Coast and struck the Gallatin Valley with a vengeance. I love snow, but this comes at a poor time as I am trying to migrate to the West Coast tomorrow afternoon to spend Thanksgiving with Chris, Kyle and others. I suppose I have rocked a few Montana passes in blizzards before, I can probably do it again.

About the week in CO: There is so much that I want to say (or force myself to think hard enough about to post) but for numerous reasons I can’t and won’t. What I can say is that I learned, once again, that expectations can really cause harm. I also learned that reality is now, not later. I also learned that life is good, no matter how hard and crappy it seems. And I was reminded what it feels like to be in the midst of a hail storm and feel the warmth of people I love and love me. Colorado has remained ‘home’ in my heart. The good, the bad, the hard and the awesome— all of it.

A Little Bit Embarrassed

There has been a certain increase of protesters and demonstrators on Montana State's campus this year. These sorts of demonstrations are all too often done by those who have a very minority opinion and are all the more emboldened because of it. Many of those who demonstrate and thereby subject themselves to the general resent of the campus usually do so out of a religious or moral conviction. They often have become so entrenched in a certain issue—abortion, homosexuality, a political affiliation—that they become unable to relate in any way with those who have a different opinion about the relative issue. Because of this, campus demonstrations are hardly ever grounds for honest and progressive debate, certainly not the ones I have been witness to. Instead, they lead towards intensified bitterness and polarization.

This was certainly the case yesterday when a group of people holding massive signs proclaiming Christ were mocking those who were simply trying to make their way to class. They shouted that school and Montana State as an institution was turning us all into 'wimps' and that we had to 'take responsibility for our actions,’ because ‘hell is real and eternity is serious.’ They also demanded that we abandon all forms of structure—including church—to find God through revelation alone. My friend Gue was given a pamphlet as he cruised down the mall and as the person handed the pamphlet to him he told him, 'wake up, hell's a real place and you're going there.' They have no idea who Gue is.

These protesters make me so uncomfortable. Actually, they make me incredibly angry. I feel like they ruin my credibility as a Christ follower and make a joke out of something I take so seriously. I left campus heated yesterday wondering how people who claimed Christ could act so foolishly.

A little while later, I realized that some of my thinking was pretty off-base. In no way do I support the message they deliver and definitely not the way in which they choose to deliver it, but still, they are as human as me. They are necessarily God's children, like the rest of us. I would even say that in a lot of ways, we have the same message. Have I not done something in the name of Christ that would make another Christ follower cringe? I am sure some of you reading this know that I certainly have. What authority do I have to judge the faith of these campus demonstrators, however much I disagree?

Sometimes I try so hard to disassociate myself with demonstrators like this that I forget they are to be loved like anyone else.

YoungLife Tonight

Bozeman YoungLife club kicks the year off at 7:47 pm tomorrow night. At that time some 50+ kids will roll through the doors of The Rock—where we hold club. Some will know us, some won’t. Some will have been to plenty of clubs before and for some this will be their first. Some will be seniors, eager to finish high school and begin moving towards whatever dreams they have for themselves. Some will be freshman, looking around to others for cues and trying to observe all that is going on. Some will be excited. Some will be nervous. Someone might puke (it’s happened before). Someone will most likely be embarrassed by a skit in front of all their peers. We’ll laugh and joke and sing and dance. We’ll dress up like morons and do our best to make fools of ourselves. It will be club like I’ve known and loved for most of these last 3 years. But all of that doesn’t matter. What is behind all of this is a concern for Jesus and a concern for our high school friends. This grand and awesome procession is put together simply so we can get to know kids and so that we might be given the chance to earn the right to share Christ with them. Now that’s something worth getting excited about.

Sunrise Suprise

12 pm Thursday night. Going to bed wondering whether or not I am going to be able to get this monster homework assignment done. Need to go to work after class. Is there going to be any time? Wish there was more time in a day, wish I could control the day and the sun and its processes.

Wake up in a hurry. Need to shower quickly. No time, no time. My eye is caught by the sun rising slowly over the Bridger Mountains. In an instant, life slows down. I am beckoned to sit on the porch. I must do so. Life slows down. The screech and blur that I had created for myself melts with the amber glow. Life's pace slows to match that of the golden prairie grass swaying back in forth as controlled by the cool and calm breeze of the morning. Dew evaporates and a subtle steam meanders skyward. I am reminded of God in the warmth of the golden sun.

Have a Super Day

I have been asked on several occasions what sort of super powers I would choose given the opportunity and my replies have been varied. As a younger person I was pretty sure I wanted to fly or sling webs onto buildings in order to skate from one block to another in New York City. Then I realized that teleporting would accomplish the same goal with an even greater range. Then, a year or so I go I started responding to the question saying that I would want to be unaffected by food and sleep. That I could eat or sleep but that I didn't have to and I would be able to stay up all night or run incredible distances without stopping. Really? If I could have any power in the world I would want to stop eating and sleeping? Wow, my creativity has been snuffed by linear algebra and advanced calculus.

So, in the spirit of creativity and imagination I put a little thought into it and my new superpower would be...man, Brianne's jumping into pictures is good...uh...I want to fly...and not have to eat? Uh, pathetic. How about technopathy? which is having the ability to interact with computers and machines through extra sensory perception. Getting worse.

It seems like I am just choosing the things I wish that I could have more control over. I wish sometimes that I had more time in a day and not eating or sleeping would provide while at the same time robbing me of two activities I really enjoy. As an innocent youngster I chose flying simply for the joy of flying but then gave up the joy for a more effective less enjoyable teleporting. My creativity has been stifled because some parts of my life have lost their romance and beauty. Duty and task have replaced passion and fulfillment because I have looked elsewhere then God to find these. I am just now beginning to realize how enticing lovers less wild than He can be and how unknowingly we can choose to serve them. What I really want is the heart to avoid these lesser lovers which strip my life of passion and purpose, and one that chooses to live as it was created to do so--as well as the grace to be forgiven when I don't.


Also, I would want to a human bouncy ball.

I Can't Believe This was 2 Weeks Ago

Tuesday, May 22nd:

Today would be Brianne’s last full day here. It is often hard not let the fact that someone is leaving affect the last moments that you have with them, but we did our best.

Brianne and I took a trip out to Sumner Beach, just 20 minutes east of Christchurch, and cruised along its coast on a nice fall day. Sumner beach is one of the most popular beaches in the summer time, but on this fall day we had a good portion of it to ourselves. From the beach we headed into the town of Sumner—a small town that is a cross between a beach bum town and a tourist center. We had New Zealand’s famous fish and chips and then continued up to the port hills.


We had intended to do a little bit of rock climbing, but on arrival a cold wind was blowing across the crag and we thought better. Instead, we went to New Brighton, another beach town, and had some coffee to warm up. Hanging out at the coffee shop was awesome, it was very nice to just chill after 10 days of strait traveling and activity.

After coffee we decided to hit up the local thrift store to see if any treasures awaited us. For me it was a pair of hot pink Nike running shorts which barely covered up and a white shirt with neon green collar and this on the pocket: For Brianne it was a ¾ length light brown silky coat with fur coated neck and arm holes to be worn with leggings and Ugg boots…We’ll just have to show you some time.

That night Brianne and I had decided to make dinner for my flatmates. We prepared white wine and garlic cream sauce mussels served over pasta with some amazing garlic bread and white wine to compliment. Yeah, I know what your thinking, sounds fancy. And besides the state of our kitchen and appliances, it was. It was a perfect way to celebrate Brianne’s time here and to have everyone together once more. We spent the rest of the evening laughing, telling stories, getting a little bit sick, getting better again and making the most of our few last hours together.

Wednesday, May 23rd:

Today was the day which we had been trying our best not to think about. We had succeeded for the most part and yet it still came. We grabbed coffee and breakfast together one last time and then shuffled down to the airport.


Goodbyes are never easy, and Brianne and I have had our fair share. A couple weeks prior Chris and I had been waiting for Brianne in the airport when Chris commented on just how much of our relationship has been in airports. I think that I have said goodbye to Brianne in airports some seven times in the last nine months and they don’t get much easier with practice.

This goodbye was particularly hard. It marked the end of something that I had been dreaming about ever since I knew I was coming abroad to New Zealand. It marked the end of a grand adventure. It marked the end of a time that we would never have back.

I feel like this has been the case with a lot of Brianne and mine’s time together. It is more than incredible but there is always that goodbye at the end. It is inevitable. There is no avoiding it or trying to make it easier. It has sort of become standard for us, for our relationship which has spanned countries and continents.

Still, I am learning to cling to hope rather than sink in disappointment. I am learning that as grand adventures end new ones begin. Perhaps not immediately, but as life moves forward we are provided more chances for adventure and these experiences create memories of their own.

Yes, it was hard to say goodbye. Really hard. But as hard as it was it can’t compare to the gratefulness I feel for having been giving an opportunity to spend those weeks together, nor can it compare to the excitement I have for the journey ahead.

Lamentations, Time and B in the Big NZ

Brianne has just left, yesterday actually, and already things are just not quite as good as they were a day ago. I most likely failed a test this morning, I am feeling a little sick, the weather sucks and frankly, I miss Brianne. Not to say that these things are the fault of Brianne leaving, I guess that would be a bit ridiculous, but the contrast should be noted. Not to be too terribly pessimistic but 3 days ago I was in Kaikora with a collection of some of my favorite people in the world watching one of the bests sunsets I have ever been provided and today I am wearing wool socks and a parka, plus I’ve got the heat cranked because I am in the cold and tired stage of being sick.

START READING HERE TO AVOID UNECESSARY WHINING:

My Bloggership has been below par for the last couple of weeks, but with good reason: Brianne came to visit Chris and me and, well, I wasn’t really around much. I went to one class during this time (don’t tell my father) and spent less than 2 whole days in Christchurch and around computers. Basically, life has been about living for the last couple of weeks, not writing about it. Still, now I sit back in my flat with time to reflect and memories to recall. So, instead of wallowing in my self pity I am going to write about and remember our time, these last couple of weeks, in New Zealand.

Usually after long trips I take the sort of lazy way out of writing a lot saying something poetic sounding like, ‘the stories are too numerous and the memories far to dear to depict in words.’ Actually, I think that I wrote exactly that in my blog about Easter Break, but the reality is that I just didn’t want to write. Sorry if you had thought that memories could really be too dear to recall, but I am not sure if they can be. Plus, the adventures of these last two weeks are some of the dearest to me, which is exactly why I am going to do my best to recall them. Instead of posting 10,000 words, getting carpal tunnel and sending you all into boredom or to another blog, I am going to split it up, write a little about a couple days at a time.

Before all that, I want to say that I was sad to see Brianne leave, really sad. It wasn’t just because I won’t see her for a month; it was more because it was the end of a saga, a glorious adventure. Never again could we share that time. Never again will we be in the same circumstances and setting. Never again we’ll we drive down to Stewart Island for the first time, watch our first New Zealand sunset together, see Abel Tasman…you get the point.

I began to think about the hopelessness of time; and more than that, the amount of energy I put into wishing that it would go faster, slower, ect. I certainly invested some into wishing that it could slow while Brianne was here, or that it could reverse now.

I began to think about what I want from my time, what I except with my time when all of the sudden my thinking was turned around. I was convicted by the selfishness which was inherent in this sort of thought. My time? My expectations? Sometimes some of God’s most simple truths are the easiest to forget, and for me this was one of those times. My time is not my own, it has been given to me, it is a gift. That doesn’t mean that I won’t try to enjoy or make the most of it, but instead of worrying about changing it or getting more of it I am going to be thankful for the time I get. I am incredibly thankful for the time Brianne and I spent here together, it was a greater use of time than I could imagine. I have been greatly blessed to have this time here in New Zealand, I have been greatly blessed to share the last 12 days with Brianne in this country and still I have a hard time trusting that time will be great/fulfilling/worthwhile/meaningful in the future. I will trust and I will try and remember that my time is a gift, one that I am incredibly thankful for.

Also, go read Ryan’s latest blog right now. Really, really good.


Friday, May 11th-

I woke up in utter anticipation. I hadn’t seen Brianne for 3 months. I had almost forgotten what it was like to communicate in real time—no emails or phone calls. I had butterflies in my stomach. I am not sure if this sensation—butterflies in the stomach—is supposed to go away after several months of dating, all I know is that it hasn’t for me, and I like it. Chris and I headed for the airport at 9:30 am to meet Brianne as she arrived at 10:20 am. I skipped into the airport to which an older Kiwi man mentioned to Chris that ‘it had been sometime since he had moved like that’ as he chuckled. We found the gate which Brianne would be unloading from and waited for her to show up. When we realized that some of the people which were coming down the escalator were those from the 10:20 Auckland flight Chris hid behind the empty information counter and I crept over next to the escalator, showing only my eyes hoping that I could spot Brianne before she spotted me. I swore we had made eye contact, as does Chris, but Brianne said that she didn’t see either of us. When I saw her step onto the top of that escalator my heart leapt and I ran underneath to meet her on the other side. She turned to head towards the baggage claim, I suavely walked up behind her, tapped her on the shoulder and all the culmination of my anticipation was at hand. Finally, after three months, a hug. We then nonchalantly strolled by the information center to be started by an eager Nicoletti who had times his boisterous ‘HEY!’ just perfectly to startle Brianne a bit.

We climbed for a while in the Port Hills that afternoon. The great thing about climbing in the Port Hills is that you get an incredible view of Christchurch, Sumner, Kaikora Peninsula, Canterbury Flats and the Southern Alps. Brianne dominated her first ever sport climbing route and Graham, Chris, Brianne and I watched the sun fall behind the giant peaks of Arthur’s Pass.

We went out for Mexican with a large group of us to celebrate our roommate Zoë’s 21st birthday. I thought it was ironic to go for Mexican the first night in New Zealand, which is dominated by Asian and Indian cuisine, for Brianne who had just come from Tex-Mex Promised Land, Colorado, but I was excited for her to meet everyone and visa versa. We went back to the flat early that night because Brianne hadn’t slept in some 40 hours and somehow going to some crazy bar with raging techno music didn’t sound too appealing.


Saturday, May 12th:

We had a lazy morning and spent some two hours cooking and eating breakfast, which wasn’t actually consumed until about noon. Something about running to the store for ingredients, using fresh vegetables and not rushing a good potato scramble makes eating it at noon very satisfying.

After breakfast Brianne and I loaded up the Vista, Chris and Frank loaded up his big green van affectionately referred to as ‘Barbie’ and we started to head South on highway 1. Our first stop was not our best; actually, we have come to refer to the location of our first stop as ‘poop smell beach’. Frank lead us east in hopes to get a glimpse of the mighty south pacific only to be quite surprised when we pulled up to a rocky beach adjacent to a animal processing plant complete with a tube pouring fecal matter into the waters. This is very a-typical of New Zealand and Chris, Frank and I decided that it was definitely the worst thing we had seen in here to date. Oops. To make things worse, Frank decided that it would be a good idea to try and turn Barbie around on the beach which resulted in the submersion of his back left tire into the soft sand. Brianne and I had gone ahead and then come back only to find Frank revving the engine while Chris shoved some pieces metal underneath the tires. We unloaded from the Vista and were once again hit with poop smell beaches terrible scent, which seemed so thick I was afraid to chew. Eventually the Van became unstuck and we continued on our way.

That night was spent on the Otago Peninsula just east of Dunedin. We arrived at our destination in dark, which is one of my favorite things to do because you get to be awoken in a completely new setting, and this one was quite beautiful.

Really, I Can't Think About Much Else Right Now

On Friday morning at 10:20 Brianne gets here to Christchurch. It has been more than 3 months since we have last been in the same place. Our relationship has always been categorized as ‘long distance,’ but I don’t think that I quite understood just how really long ‘long’ can be. We have fought hard to have a presence in each other’s lives despite an amazing amount of distance and different settings. It has not always been entirely easy to communicate through emails, phone calls and letters but our connection, I have found, is beyond verbal or written communication. We have found the understanding and peace comes from God through prayer, and though I have not always been completely diligent he has always been faithful. This semester has been hard, yet difficult times have the potential to produce fruits and we have worked hard to ensure that this semester will be a fruitful one.

Friday morning will be the first time in three months I have seen Brianne, the first time in three months that I have gotten that subtle reassurance that a smile provides and a time to share in an adventure here in this place and somehow I know that because of the trial which these three months has been it will be all the better.

I Have All F's

Here at Canterbury University every student starts their semesters off with zero percent in each class. Every paper I write is a big goose egg until the professor reads it, finds my arguments, finds my evidences, and allots me points accordingly. Also, points are not deducted from an exam; your score is not one hundred minus how ever much you screwed up. Instead, your tests are zeros until the professor finds evidence that you deserve more points which are subsequently added up from zero. Then, throughout the course of the semester points are totaled, and the resultant total is your grade.

This, to me, seems like a much better way of doing grades. It is a positive feedback system, one where you feel as though you are making the difference for your grade with each amount of work you put into a paper or studying for an exam. The understanding is that your effort is what counts, not your abilities to not screw up.

When discussing this system of grading with others here at Canterbury University I started thinking about how I view my relationship with God. I feel like most my life, my Christian life, has been too focused on not screwing up. I have, at times, found myself consumed with not doing the wrong things. Also, sometimes I find myself consumed with doing the ‘right things’—appearing the right way, using the right language, reading the right books, going to the right churches—which really just act as a silly guise when in reality they are the same as not doing the ‘wrong things’.

Grace is a term commonly thrown around in Christian circles. ‘Saved by Grace’ is a phrase which few followers of Christ would hesitate to identify with. But perhaps my understanding of being saved by grace has gotten a little skewed somewhere in the journey. When I think of being saved by grace, sometimes I think that my idea of this is being taken to from zero to one hundred—and then the goal is not to screw up. Then, when inevitably I do screw up, where does that leave me?

There are several implications of being afraid of ‘messing up’ all the time. The first of which is that we are thereby bound by fear. We become slaves to legalism and render ourselves less able to function as someone who really is saved by grace. Also, I often find myself feeling like I am earning my way into good standing with God. That by being disciplined and not screwing up I am assuring that grace is still mine, which defeats the whole purpose.

Instead, I think that grace is always there, and instead of ‘getting’ grace we ‘accept’ it. It is free for the taking, always beckoning us to just rest in it. And then instead of fighting against the chains of legalism and self perpetuation we become free. Free to bask in the radiant grace which blankets us, free to turn in thankfulness for this grace and free to assume the identity which was always meant for us.

Don’t get me wrong, I think that church, a good book, some discipline, or things that can be considered 'good things' are sometimes just that, good things. Actually, I think they can be some of the most beautiful things that we can experience, but when they become our relationship with Jesus, when they become our way of earning grace, we have rendered them useless.

7665 Days Young...

Today, as some of you may know, is Chris' 21st birthday. That's right, the big 2-1. It seems to me that for a lot of people the 21st birthday is the big one, sort of last hurrah if you will. A chance for people to have another huge party and imbibe excessive amounts of alcohol, as if that isn't what they had been doing for at least the last 3 years. Even though the age at which one can legally buy alcohol in New Zealand is 18, the 21st birthday is still the biggest. This is because at 21 a person steps into adulthood, leaves adolescence and the teenage years behind, and in a way begins the rest of their life.

This troubles me to a certain extent because my 21st birthday is coming up in a mere 13 days and I am not sure if enough will change between now and then for me to jump off the proverbial springboard into adulthood. I think that it is the habit of some to overreact to an upcoming birthday milestone (16, 21, 30, 40, 50 ect) and to begin to worry about how old they are getting or already start fearing the future. This pattern of thought could sort of describe my reaction to turning 20 (along with a general fear of having to be more 'responsible'), but 352 after the fact I can say that not a lot changed. Sure I grew, became different, perhaps even may seem 'older', but that is a reflection of experiences and trials, not the date March 21st.

So as today is the birthday of one my greatest childhood friends and one of the most important people in my life today, I welcome it. I welcome 'growing up', new experiences, and new things to find and learn about life. I am grateful that this life changes, that with more days, weeks, months, and years come new things to be discovered around every corner. And, instead of reacting to growing up with fear and a longing to be young again, I’ll move towards age, maturity, new experiences, and new endeavors with excitement and gratefulness.

Next Up on Blind Date...

Studying abroad is somewhat like a blind date but with insurance. The insurance is that the date is probably going to be pretty awesome, and very few people come out of the date with out at least appreciating that they went on it. But there still remains so much unknown about the whole ordeal. So much to be discovered, embraced, weirded out by, laughed about, learned, and so much to be personally changed by. It is a unique setting for anyone without many responsibilities and plenty of time to soak up to view the outside world as well as spend some time introspectively. So I guess really it is more like a 6 month blind date that has insurance, but you get my point.

If I was on one of those blind date shows where they take breaks to do camera interviews with the daters to see how each sees it going this is what I would say:

Really, New Zealand is beautiful. All that I heard about it is proving to have been understated. Adventure abounds, the people are great, and some great stories/memories have already been made.

Besides all that, I am really beginning to see how unique my time here is going to be. My responsibilities are pretty minimal and I have quite a lot of free time to do whatever I choose with. Free time for me inevitably means reflection, introspection and contemplation. Reluctantly I have already been pulled to face some of the less presentable sides of myself in order to confront the underlying issues and began moving towards reconciliation in redemption. One major theme which has arose from this is authenticity. I am finding that to be genuine or authentic is not always the easier thing. It is often much easier for me gloss over those little thorns in life in order to keep a presentable smile on. The issue really is trust. Do I trust that I can take the harder route, the possibly unforeseen, the scary or the intimidating and come out on the other side? When I think about the people in the Old and New Testament who are giants of the faith-Paul, Peter, Moses, Noah-I see people who chose what was true instead of what comforted or benefited them.

I had the opportunity to discuss this with Chris for a little while today and we came up with a fitting analogy. It is like building a house in Montana. Of course you start in the summer time because the conditions are ideal then for building (no snow and warm days). At the start of the build you are faced with a critical decision; do you want to build the smaller house which you could finish before the first snow, or do you choose to take the time to build an immaculate, detailed, well-loved house that you will have to fight through the winter to get done. Do you trust that you can make it through the winter and do you believe that it will be better to build for the rest of your life if you choose the harder build? It is of course not about having a huge home or 'owning' anything, it is about the build.

This time here feels new to me, a chance to see what it’s like to choose authenticity, the harder route, to face the winters. I don't know where this is going to take me but I am learning to trust.