musings

Three Recent Discoveries

I've recently left Hobbiton, you might say.  So I thought, from time to time, I'd share some things I've been learning on this little journey of mine.  Come join the ride!

Highway guard rails are different now.  Perhaps they learned something and made it better.

  • Constant Feedback is Essential. In a recent episode of The Portfolio Life, Jeff Goins and Pat Flynn discussed the need to "validate an idea before you leap." Deciding to own a franchise of a restaurant no one likes and building it in a county with only 85 residents is not a well-thought-out plan.  In order to validate an idea, you have to pitch it: talk to friends, launch a beta release, pepper various strangers with questions. It's possible your idea is good, but seeking ruthless feedback and criticism can make your idea great. I didn't ask for much feedback when I designed this website. The more I learn, the more I realize I need to go talk to more people and seriously overhaul this thing.  What's good about this website?  What's garbage?  Is the word 'curiousitive' cool at all or actually completely stupid (I'm starting to think it's the latter!)?
  • Good Storytelling is Good Marketing. Don Miller and the Story Brand team basically take the essential plot of Star Wars (Hero with a problem meets a guide who sends him/her on a quest where failure brings disastrous consequences and success yields amazing results), and teach a businessperson to frame their service or product through this lens, in which the businessperson is the guide and their client is the hero. If I can tell you the story of what I do - the problem of yours that I can solve - in a compelling and understandable way, it's much easier for you to know what I have to offer and whether it truly does solve your problem.  When you need photographs, what are they for?  How do you choose a photographer?  Does this website clearly identify how I can meet those needs?
  • I Do My Best Writing In The Morning. I tried to write this post late on Saturday evening after a busy week. After a half hour of fogged frustration I gave up and watched an episode of Agent Carter. On Monday evening, I tried again, scrapping the original manuscript and going with this 'what-I've-learned' format. After choosing two topics and stalling on the third, I thought, ugh, I can't write at night! With a laugh, I realized I discovered my third topic. I am much better at writing in the morning when I am fresh and my mind is full of possibility, rather than exhausted by the events of the day. Therefore, if I am to consistently write quality content, I need to schedule time in the mornings to sit down and just do it. When are you at your highest levels of productivity and creativity?

Keep learning!  And I'd love to read your comments below.

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Beauty for Ashes

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Hawaiian fire hydrants are different.  The birds are too.

On the island of Oahu, there is a place called Hanauma Bay.  The sea, long ago, wore away one slice of a volcanic crater, birthing a tranquil bay of bright blue water, scattered coral, and sandy beaches igneously pockmarked.  Here, hundreds - thousands - of fish swim, in every shape and size and color combination imaginable.

It's entirely unnecessary.

Everything could be concrete.  Everyone's eyes could be a dull lifeless color.  Birds could, instead of singing, simply make grumpy sounds and complain about the city's fire services.

I spent the first part of May in Hawaii with my friends Jim and Jess, who have been on staff with YWAM Honolulu the past several years and are soon transitioning to a new context where they'll continue to follow Jesus and equip people to know - to deeply know - the story of scripture.

The last months, for various reasons, had worn me down.  There was little point in getting excited for anything, it seemed, as a variety of hopes had been dashed several times in quick succession.  Indeed, as I packed my gear, I noticed that I was hardly excited to go to Hawaii.  For this statement, there are hundreds of people who would gladly punch me in the face while incredulously asking, "what the crap is wrong with you?"

So I spent a week with Jim, joined by Jess as she was able.  We traveled the island, went camping, visited coffee shops, wandered a half-dozen beaches, and talked about all sorts of things.  I took a five mile hike through the jungle, tried local delicacies (I, quite understandably to most readers, discovered that I like Mochi better than Spam), yelled in the car just for the sake of doing so, visited Pearl Harbor, met wonderful people, and went snorkeling with all those fish in Hanauma Bay.  

Perhaps more detailed anecdotes will come in later posts, but a notable takeaway point is this: in resting, in talking through recent hurts with Jim, in meeting amazing new people, in reading Scripture, in spending time listening, my heart began to find restoration.  I began to simply enjoy the day without anxiety, began to see what structural changes I need to make at home so that I may not fall into a listless frustration that has often characterized my outlook as of late.

Has not God made a wondrously beautiful world?  What has happened to our hearts when we lose sight of that?  There's hundreds of thousands of neon rainbow fish flitting through the reefs of Hawaii that wish to remind you: 

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives
and recovering of sight to the blind,
to set at liberty those who are oppressed,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
— Jesus, in Luke 4:18-19

Jesus' promise is for all people, in all its fullness - whether rescuing an addict, a slave, a mobster, or simply one whose heart has been hardened by pain.

God will make beautiful things out of dust - a tranquil bay out of volcanic ash, or perhaps a triumphant son our daughter out of a broken soul.

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Sure, I'll fly to Boston for Easter

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Clam Chowder at a pub whose namesake is that where Patrick Henry and Sam Adams planned the revolution?  Yes please.

I woke early and headed to BWI courtesy of another early-rising friend, breezing through security with enough time to wander the terminal, browse the books, and do some reading.  We boarded, the girl next to me giving advice on where to eat and what to see while in Boston.  Up and back down nearly as quickly, flying over suburbs which, from high above, betrayed lingering signs of the ten feet of snow that had buried the city a few weeks before.

Walk, bus, subway, and up the stairs and out to the streets of Boston, oddly quiet for a Saturday.  To the right stood the towering Celtics stadium; to the left, city streets of eating establishments and apartments.  I wandered around the block and settled on a coffee shop.  I purchased a small black coffee from a barista who seemed miffed at my choice and sat down to read as people came and went, conversations flowing past until early afternoon.

Marcus arrived, having won the battle against traffic, and we headed down the street to the Grand Canal, a wonderfully Irish pub.  We caught up on life, discussing the various pains and joys we’ve both endured and celebrated over the past months, wondering about the journey we are on and where it might lead.  He, studying at seminary; I, designing ductwork and plumbing - both of us earnestly concerned about what we might do with our lives, how we might impact this world for good.

“Cheers, thanks a million,” said the waitress in true Irish fashion, and we headed onwards.  A drive, a prayer for God’s continued grace in our lives, and back on the streets I went, now at Park Street - bustling with lives in the midst of a bright and blustery day.  I wandered the paths, wondering about this city and how it got that way and what the passers-by were pondering.  The Steinway Piano store beckoned and I entered, sitting down at a $124,000 to play a simple song about a God who sees us, knows us, and loves us - through and through.  Shall I not express my thankfulness on one of the very best pianos, the culmination of decades of thought and innovation?  I shall, and a small part of my soul will grow lighter.

More wandering and finally Isaac’s arrival, later than expected due to a roommate’s clogged shower drain, which had required immediate attention.  We caught up as well, discussing his graduate studies and my work as we wandered the Freedom Trail, taking in all the buildings and streets which once knew the names of men like Patrick Henry and Sam Adams.  Cannoli from Mike’s Pastry, a delightfully crowded counter of all sorts of folks clamoring for dessert, and clam chowder at the Green Dragon, which bills itself as the Birthplace of the Revolution.  The original building, sadly, is no more, but an enthralling idea nonetheless to eat in the same pub where the Sons of Liberty talked and planned and dreamed and birthed a nation.

Again on the T - another prayer and another goodbye - and then on a bench, waiting.  Yunhe then appeared from a hotel, through which we doubled back to see his office building.  Our walk became a meandering tour of MIT as dusk turned to nighttime, and the campus streets around the engineering department’s wind tunnel turned into a scene from a film noir.  Finished now with walking, we left the city and headed to his apartment in the suburbs.  Yunhe made dinner - shrimp and broccoli - quite delighted to host a guest.  We ate and talked and finished the day.

Up the next morning, a large breakfast, and a long ride on the T from one end of the Red line to the other.  Conversation about life and what matters, really?  A girl sits next to me and I ask, "where are you headed?"  She seems surprised by the question (who speaks to strangers on the subway?) and yet delighted, and shares that she’s on her way to church.  The train stops, “happy Easter,” says she, and out she goes.  A few more stops and we leave the train as well, up to a waiting car driven by Nola, a friend.  To church we go to celebrate Easter - indeed, the original reason why I found myself in Boston was due to Yunhe’s request.  Some text messages, confirmations, and a plane ticket later and the plans were set.

We enjoyed the service, a typical American protestant/non-denominational service as far as I understand, and afterward had many conversations with Yunhe’s friends.  After meeting twenty people, many of whom were characters and wonderfully so, we were off.  Down to the Red Line, nearly punched in the face by a man jealously guarding his backpack as he washed his face in the restroom, through the gates, and back on the train.  We paused to wander Harvard, pondering the question of whether Jesus really raised a girl from the dead and what it says about who He may be.  Can we believe that story?  What about Jesus would give him the authority to call a dead person back to life?  Can a person be spiritually or emotionally dead?  Could Jesus raise that person to life?

We pass a gate with the Harvard logo, veritas emblazoned thereon.  Veritas.  Truth.

What is true?  Does it matter?

Onwards we go, back to the airport.  Another goodbye with much gratitude on my part - both of us, really.  Another flight, another landing - back to Baltimore.

And I am thankful - for soul-conversations, for Steinway pianos, for Patrick Henry, for people, for life, for grace, for resurrection. 

What I Learned This Summer, Part IV: The Gospel

This is the last of a four-part series.  Part I, Part II, Part III.

I’ve written several posts over the past weeks: the first dealt with my education in business and photography through self-employment; the second, some of my thoughts on homelessness.  Last week, I discussed what I learned about a Christian idea called “guarding your heart” and nontraditional housing compared to my suburban upbringing.  This week, I’d love to tell you what I learned about the Gospel of Jesus Christ this summer.

What is the Gospel not?

Some of you who may read this have had bad experiences with the church.  So have I: twice have I watched a church disintegrate around me in sad fashion.  I’m not talking about the church here, but Jesus Christ.  I ask you, as I have tried to do, not to judge Him by people who (momentarily or consistently) represent Him poorly.

The Gospel is not guilt and shame.  It is not the word of God speaking against you and constantly reminding you of your faults.  The Gospel does not give permission for followers of Jesus Christ to heap guilt on others.

The Gospel is not a set of rules.  The Christian does not earn God’s favor through his or her morality.  A Christian is not breathlessly running around, doing everything possible to get into heaven by his or her own merit.

The Gospel is not an intellectual idea.  To believe in Jesus is not simply to acknowledge His existence, but to put complete trust in Him.

What is the Gospel?

In a word, freedom.

The truth is, we know this world is a shambles.  We read the news of civil unrest and earthquakes, of flooding and family strife, of senseless murder and senseless gossip.  All sorts of evils, large and small, surround us.  Yet there is so much good, so many things which cause us to cry inside, this is so right!  This world was created by a perfect God to be good, created so that we – His creation – could live in free relationship with Him.  Yet, for love to be real, it must be chosen.  When Satan deceived Adam and Eve into eating the fruit of the tree from which they were forbidden to eat, the perfect relationship between God and man was severed.  Mankind, by eating of this fruit, was put under the curse of sin and death.  Man and Woman had chosen to disobey God – to not trust in His love for them and therefore not love Him fully.  Sin – rebellion against God – entered the world.  Mankind exchanged a perfect, loving master for a cruel, deceptive master and became enslaved to sin.

Even a highly moral person (by whatever standard you choose) will tell you in moments of honesty that they do not live up to that standard.  Time and again, I fail the moral standards I set for myself.  I am a sinner and I cannot change that of my own accord.  Can a slave free himself?  Can a dead woman breath life back into her body?

So where does that leave us?  O wretched people that we are, who will save us from death?

About a year ago, I shared the Gospel at our InterVarsity fall retreat, as part of our series of talks on love that weekend.  I said that our sin is abhorrent to God and that we fall under his sentence of death.  We have rebelled, denied God, stated that we don’t accept His lordship.  Yet, He wants us back, and so sent His son Jesus to die in our place.  He still metes out justice and also pours out his love by taking our place on the chopping block.  Sin is punished and dealt with and we, if we choose, can reenter a relationship with him (typically understood as “going to heaven when we die”).

This is incomplete.  This is cheap grace.  The only problem solved here is that the criminal is let off the hook.  God’s wrath over his or her disobedience is shunted over to Christ on the cross, and the criminal goes free, happy that Jesus died for him, yet the reason this person is a criminal remains.

I, in sharing the gospel that night, in no way told the whole story.  This summer, in reading a blog post by my friend Bryan, listening to the sermon to which he linked, and rereading the four biographies of Jesus contained in the Bible, I realized that I had inadequately communicated the Gospel.

God is not looking to simply find a way to keep us from the death we deserve due to sin.  He wants to reconcile us to Himself.  He wants to free us, here and now, from the slavery of sin.  He wants to heal us, here and now of the disease of sin.  He wants to forgive us, here and now, that we can come before Him washed clean.  He wants to make us completely new.  In John, Chapter 5, Jesus says that he does only what he sees the Father doing.  Jesus, as God the Son, and God the Father have the very same purpose in restoring a loving relationship between God and man.  They have the same purpose in freeing, healing, and forgiving mankind.  Christ, on the cross, does not simply absorb the Father’s wrath against sin, but also bears the curse of sin so that we do not need to.  He breaks the power of the curse over us that we may be free, no longer slaves.

The Gospel is God’s great work of grace to make us free.  Freedom from sin and death.  Freedom to live as His children.  

People sometimes think Christianity is about being a good person so that you can go to heaven when you die, and Jesus fits in there somehow. 

I passionately disagree.

Christianity is living a life knowing you are loved by God Himself (what a mystery!), that He has gone to tremendous lengths to free you from sin and death and be a part of what He is doing on this earth in restoring all things. 

How to write this?  There is so much more I want to say!  If we were talking face to face, I would probably be jumping and speaking way too fast, trying to convey the wondrousness of this love of God, that He would come to earth and die a terrible death to rescue us from our sin, our rebellion, our soul disease.

This summer, I came to see God’s grace in a fuller, greater way.  I came to see that His love and sacrifice is so much more incredible than I had previously understood.

Jesus says “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”  Jesus says, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

Will you trust Him?  Will you stake your life on His promise of freedom?  Choose Him and know His grace.  Run to Him and know His love!  Walk with Christ and know His freedom.  Leave your life of sin, allow God to change your heart, and find yourself forgiven.  Trust in Christ.

In this, the love of God was manifested toward us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through Him. [1 John 4:9]