I'm Not Over It

This post is part of my weekly Time for Honesty. I do my best to share something that's on my heart that is honest, sincere, and transparent - something that will get you thinking and get you to be honest with yourself.

On Sunday, it will have been three years. For anyone that's counting, that's  1,068 days. Or 25,632 hours. Or even 1,537,920 minutes. Heck, let's even say it will have been 92,275,200 seconds.

Three years is a long time when you look at it like that.

It was three years ago that I tried to call my dad and got an operator because his phone was disconnected.

Three years ago that my older younger sister, Scarlett, randomly asked me, "Do you think Dad is dead?"

It was three years ago that I witnessed the most horrific scene of my life as my grandparents delivered the news.  

One thousand, sixty-eight days ago on Sunday, my dad passed away.

Since that day, I've learned a lot from my dad. More than I ever did while he was alive.

As I was asked to speak at his funeral, along with my beautiful sisters, I was forced to think about him. To wrestle with the reality of his sudden departure. To contend with the fact that I had just made a pact with God to reestablish my relationship with my dad.

When his funeral came, I spoke without notes. Why would I need notes to talk about my father? I spoke of his passion. I quipped about the fact that I wouldn't just get a tattoo in his memory and move on. I exhorted those present to not let that day go to waste - to remember my dad through the way they live. To live with passion, as he did.

Now before you get the wrong idea, my dad was no saint. He was a messed up guy. I'm not one to idealize a dead guy, so I want you to know that now. He drank mightily. We still find bottles around my mom's house from him - and he didn't even live there. He was passionate, but boy howdy did he do some stupid stuff.

On Sunday it will have been three years. And clearly, I'm not over this. I am not "over" the death of my dad, and I am okay with that. I don't want to be. Mourning is a process, and maybe it's one that never ends. Maybe it's not as cut and dry as we want it to be. Maybe, just maybe, grieving has no end, as hopeless as that sounds. And that's okay.

Again, though, I may be misleading you. For I do not grieve as one without hope. Instead, I mourn my dad's death as a part of the brokenness of this world. There are so  many injustices, so much pain. And my dad's death is among that hurt.

For now, then, all I can do is heal. Myself. Others. This world. I cannot be reunited with my dad for now (and will I ever? I don't know), but I can share his passion with the world around me. And I can remember him. I can mourn my loss. I can yearn to visit his grave site, if only to get a glimpse of his face on that marker that designates his place of burial.

I'm not over his death. Quite possibly, I never will be. And that's alright. And no, I won't "get past it" or "get over it" someday. I never want to be over it because I want to remember. I want to remember how precious each day is and remember how passionately I'm called to live.

For my dad.

For the people I love.

For my God, who is healing me, and will be until the day I pass on to a place I call home.

Have you experienced anything like this in your own life? Death is a tender subject, so please share with discretion - pain is as personal as you want it to be.

I'd love to hear from you about this (or anything else)! Leave a comment or shoot me an e-mail! 

And if you enjoyed this post, please share it with your friends - it would mean a lot to me. 

My Feathers Have Been Ruffled

This post is part of my weekly Time for Honesty. I do my best to share something that's on my heart that is honest, sincere, and transparent - something that will get you thinking and get you to be honest with yourself.

The other day I was perusing my infinite list of blogs, reading, enjoying myself, and probably drinking coffee, though I can't be sure (so don't quote me on that). Nothing too earth shattering arose, and I was okay with that. Until I read through K. Syrah's latest post over at Shoes Never Worn: "The Indie Writer/Indie Author."

Darn you, K, for ruffling my feathers.

(She does that sometimes, so if you're into that sort of writing, you should really check out her blog.)

Anyway, K was writing about being an Indie author, and ended her post with a quip that made a lot of sense to me, but made me kind of mad:

Of course, I say that because at this moment, money isn’t an issue, and if one has a full belly, and all the bills are paid, it’s easier to be righteous.

Now when I say that K made me mad, I really just mean she rattled my cage. Because frankly, I'm dealing with this right now, and I was mad that she brought it up and threw it in my face, as if it were no big deal. Don't mind the fact that it's completely illogical for me to be mad at her - after all, she has no clue that this is something I'm wrestling with right now.

Here's the deal: I've really been struggling with trusting God in my finances. This is something I've always taken a little pride in, because I don't want to care about money, so I let God take care of it. Typically, our budget doesn't add up and more goes out than comes in. But at the end of the day, we find ourselves blessed by God for trusting him with our cash.

Lately, though, things have been getting a little tighter. And suddenly, I start wondering. I start doubting.  

Does God care? 

Did I do something wrong? 

Is there a certain ritual I need to perform to fix all of this?

And suddenly, I want to take matters into my own hands. 

You see, that quote I posted from K really shook me because I've found myself beginning to back down from what I so firmly believed when I "had a full belly and all the bills were paid."

I've always believed in God's provision and frankly, He's always one-upped me when it comes to finances, always doing more than I could ever expect. However, lately, it seems like God has all but disappeared from managing our money. And suddenly, I want to stop giving radically. I want to start saving back our money, keeping it for ourselves, instead of supporting our beautiful Compassion children.

But then I'm reminded of my calling:

Give to those who ask.

Don't turn away from those who want to borrow.

Don't store up treasures on earth.

Don't worry about your life.

Don't worry about tomorrow.

Give, God says. Don't worry, He reminds me.  

Give. Don't worry.

I guess it's no coincidence that when Matthew pens those words, he talks about radical giving first and then says not to worry. It's like he knew what his readers would be experiencing as they read his admonition to give without hesitation.

I want so badly to be able to keep giving and enjoy it. And I'm trying. I haven't given up on God, and I guess I've just come to terms with the fact that God is still taking care of me. I'm just being selfish and I want more. Because, obviously, I deserve better. I'm entitled to his blessings. He owes me.

Wrong. Double wrong. In fact, that's all a bucket of lard.

I need nothing more. I deserve nothing better. His blessings are his to give, not mine. And God owes me nothing. In fact, I'm sure it's the other way around. I owe him. A lot. Everything, in fact. And so I keep giving. I keep trusting. I keep hoping. And along the way, I'm trying not to worry, because, hey, what good has worry done any of us anyway?

Did that quote from K hit home with you? Can you relate to my struggle here? Or do you struggle with trusting God for other things, beyond money? What are you having a hard time trusting God with today?

I'd love to hear from you about this (or anything else!). Just drop me a comment or an e-mail! And while you're at it, feel free to share this post with some of your friends!
 

An Open Letter to an Extrovert

The medicine I'm taking right now tastes like soap. Fifteen minutes straight of inhaling mist that takes like soap.

Dear Extrovert,

Hey! How are you doing? You see, I ask you that because I'm genuinely curious, not just because I'm polite and know how to banter. In fact, I really do like you a lot and think about you regularly. Sometimes, though, I think you misunderstand me.

You see, I'm an introvert. You know this well, and you accept me anyway - for the most part. However, I can't help but think that you have some sort of ulterior motive when you're talking to me. It's almost as if you're trying to convert me. Or cure me. I'm not sure which. As if I have some unspeakable disease that I'm suffering from, slowly dying from.

Allow me to let you in on a secret: I have no disease. There is nothing wrong with me. Frankly, I like how God made me. Introversion is not a disease - it's a piece of who I am.


I know that sometimes, since I'm quiet or reserved, I may appear to you as someone who thinks more highly of themselves than others. And granted, you're probably right part of the time - but only because I'm human and we all think that way from time to time. However, just because I'm quiet does not mean that I need to be "fixed." Just because I keep to myself does not mean I have a "problem."

It has also come to my attention that, since I'm a Christian, my faith and my personality type do not mesh. As a Christian, I know when I said I believe in the life and resurrection of Jesus and submitted my life to his Kingdom, I also said something to the effect of "I will be as loud and obnoxious as possible, showing myself off and partying like it's 1999." However, I must withdraw my words (which I seriously doubt I ever said).

Being a Christian is not synonymous with being an extrovert.

You see, I am a an introvert. And a Christian. And, whether you like it or not, God made me this way. It's who I am and who I will always be. I realize that I will never be loud and up front like you. And I'm quite glad for this, though I'm sure you believe that I'm distraught over my lack of supposed "leadership" ability.

Instead, I'll flounder in the background, doomed to a life of servitude and under-exposure. And I'm sure, in your mind's eye, you'll wonder why my gifts are going to waste, when they could surely be used to "lead" (see also: command, order, yell at) people closer to God. I'm sure you'll pray for me to change, and though I appreciate the concern, allow me to ask you for one thing: to stop.

I like who I am.

I like who God made me to be.

Please stop trying to fix that.

Sincerely,
An Introvert

Rebellion

This post is part of my weekly Time for Honesty. I do my best to share something that's on my heart that is honest, sincere, and transparent - something that will get you thinking and get you to be honest with yourself.


Since this is the time for my weekly Time for Honesty, I'm just going to cut to the chase. Quick, easy, painless. I promise. Here's what I want to know: 

Do you have a relationship with God?

Now, before you stop reading, hear me out. Because I'm going to assume that you don't. However, I'm not going to try and convince you of why you're "wrong." Because who says you are?

Most people (myself included) struggle with the idea of a relationship with God. We don't get it. Frankly, it doesn't make sense most of the time. Why would a Being, who created everything, down to the molecule, want a relationship with his creation? And, to be exact, how insane must he be to want a relationship with me?

If you don't have a relationship with God, I want to tell you something: God does want a relationship with you.

However, I'm not really posting this to convince you of that. Instead, I want to get you thinking about something else: why don't you have a relationship with God? What's stopping you?

Now, I could be wrong (and I usually am - I'm a guy, after all), but most of the people I know who don't have a relationship with God are people who were raised to believe in him and raised to follow rules that were said to be from the Bible. Some of those rules probably were found in Scripture somewhere, while some were probably part of a church's half-century old by-laws.

These people heard all the religious mumbo-jumbo, went along with it because they had to, and made a split for it the second that they could. I would have too. Thankfully, I wasn't raised in this way.

Last night, though, I figured something out. I mean, not completely, because then I'd probably be rich and would be showering you with money, but God at least gave me a peek into something pretty cool. I was at a class that is taught at the Pregnancy Crisis Center that I'm interning at and I was looking through the worksheets we received. Something caught my eye, though. A quote to be exact. 


"Rules without relationship leads to rebellion." - Josh McDowell

And maybe, just maybe, you're in rebellion. Heck, I am a lot of times. I shove God away a lot. When I struggle. And even when times are good. I rebel because sometimes, I forget about my relationship with God. 

Maybe, just maybe, you were raised to know all of the rules, go through all of the rituals, and recite all of the religious mumbo-jumbo you could retain. And you rebelled as soon as you could. Why? Because you're a person, and no person wants loaded down by rules, rituals, and religion. I sure as heck don't want to be.

I think, though, that if this was the case for you, you might have missed something. A very big piece of the puzzle. And I'm not pointing any fingers at who might have forgotten to tell you, but there's another very imperative "R" word that makes the rest of those ridiculous "R" words make a little more sense. And you already know it. It's a relationship.

Relationships make all the difference. In school, at work, and at home. Just think about it. If you tell your kids not to do something, chances are that they're going to do it anyway. It's natural. But if you have a great relationship with them, your chances increase dramatically that they might actually listen to what you have to say. Otherwise, if they don't have that, the rules set before them simply lead them to rebel. It's only natural.

It works the same way with God. He loves us. He wants a relationship with us, through Jesus. But we rebel. Why? We hear the rules and we don't want any part in it because, frankly, who wants to listen to rules set by someone we don't even know?

So here's my challenge to you today:

No matter who you are, where you're from, or where you're at with God, examine yourself. Have your own Time for Honesty. Do you have a relationship with God? Just think about it for a few minutes. Why don't you have a relationship with him? What's truly keeping you from that?

And if you do have some sort of relationship with him, how well do you really know him? Has that relationship actually changed your life? What about the lives around you? If it hasn't, it might be time to have a heart-to-heart with yourself and see what's going on.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on any of this (or anything else)! Just leave me a comment or send me an e-mail.

Let Your Money Do the Talking

I took some Tylenol before I went to sleep last night and I woke up feeling like I had been drugged. That can't be normal.

How rich are you?

No, seriously. Think about it for a second.

Think about the value of every single dollar that you earn.

It's hard to see when you're sitting next to the Joneses, who actually own the money-printing factory downtown, but trust me when I say these words: if you're reading this, then you're richer than you know.

Don't believe me? Check out this website. Just do it.

Here are my results, in case you were wondering (since this IS my Time for Honesty this week):

Now, granted, I don't feel like I'm in the top 12.5% of the wealthiest people in the world. But how I feel doesn't negate the fact that I am. And as a member of the group of the richest people in the world, I feel responsible.

That's $40. It's worth 118,000 Le in Sierra Leone.

I feel responsible to handle my money well. A dollar may not seem like a lot, but it's worth a lot more when you don't actually have it. And whether we like to admit it or not, every dollar we earn is going to go somewhere.

If you've taken a budgeting class, you've heard that before. You know that if you don't plan where your money is going, it's going to leave you anyway. That's the tricky thing about finances. We all want money, but when we have it, it leaves as quickly as it arrives.

That's all good and well, but the question here is what on earth am I getting at? I promise I have a point. And I promise it's important.

Let's think about what we know so far:

Numero Uno - We're rich. Period. End of story.
Numero Dos - We have money, and it's valuable.
Numero Tres - The money we have is going to get spent somewhere.

Now, maybe I should have said this sooner, but I hate money. I hate that we need it to live. I hate that it keeps people from living. I hate that so many people depend on it, as if money, in and of itself, can save us from anything. But there's a lot to be learned from where our money goes. Take this hypothetical situation, for instance:

Person A spends 5% of his money at church, 25% on bills, 50% on entertainment, and 20% on vacations.

Now this may not be even slightly realistic, but work with me here. Person A seems like a pretty rude, petty person. Sure, he gives 5% to his church, and he gets the bills paid. But 70% of his income feeds his own desires. What do you think he values most in life?

I say this, not to rip on people who take vacations or spend money entertaining themselves (because I love to do both when I can afford it), but to make a point.  

And that point is this: we spend our money in the places that matter most to us.

This may seem obvious, but think about it for a second. Even Jesus said, "Where your treasure is, there your heart will also be." Dude knew what he was saying.

This idea really gets to me, especially when I think about the way that organizations spend their money. Take, for instance, a hypothetical organization that supports small groups and building up people through that avenue.

This organization talks and talks about how important small groups are to their success. They even provide a little training and the occasional encouragement for small group leaders. However, when it comes down to it, they only invest $3 a person per year through this medium.

Do you really believe that they value small groups when you hear that?

I didn't think so. People put their money where their heart is. And that rings true for organizations, big and small, as well.

I say all of this, not to degrade or to discourage, but to raise awareness. Because, like we saw earlier, a few things are undeniably true:

1. We are rich.
2. Money is valuable.
3. That money is getting spent somewhere.
4. We spend our money where our heart is.

Be more aware of where you spend your money. Take a brief inventory where your money is going. It will reveal what you truly value in life, not just what you proclaim to value. And if you don't like what your finances reveal about who you are, change it. Ultimately, you're the only one who controls what you do with your money. Make every penny count toward what you're passionate about, not just toward what you think you're supposed to be spending your money on.

What do you think? Is there truth to this idea that we spend our money in the places that are most important to us? What do you think about being one of the richest people in the world? Do you think that makes you responsible to spend your money wisely? Or is your money your own business?

I want to hear your thoughts! Leave a comment or shoot me an e-mail! And while you're at it, Share this post with your friends - I want everyone in on this!