Think Without Acting

We are a culture of armchair critics.

We sit on the couch and yell at athletes, telling them how to play the game. We comment on celebrities' relationships, weight & fashion choices, vicariously living the Hollywood life for the cost of cable. We tweet, blog, Yelp, write reviews on Amazon, and webcast our opinions & critiques. I think the real reason people go wine tasting in Napa is so that they can feel like a cultured critic, swirling, sniffing and mumbling about hints of blackberry & oak.

And I'm no different. I wish I was less critical.

I can remember years ago, going to see a movie with my family. My brother & I whispered snide remarks through the whole, awful thing, like we were characters in Mystery Science Theater. But when we shuffled out of the theater and finally let loose on the movie, my Dad looked shocked, "I liked it!" That night, my cynical brother & I wondered if we would rather go through life enjoying mediocre movies, books, food & whatnot and just be happy, or if we preferred our highbrow excellent taste. In the end, we decided it was better to be disappointed, miserable, cynical and cultured than be some average Joe that had no taste. ;)

All these thoughts have been swirling around in my head as I hear the incredible responses to the Kony 2012 video that is all the rage right now. It seems as though the whole world is circling the kill, waiting for their chance at a witty, pithy critique, a personal jab, and an "I told you so"-- especially since the filmmaker's very public & humiliating meltdown last week.

Like I said, I'm right there with the rest of them, ready with criticism, opinions, and (if I'm lucky) a little recognition for how I could have done it better. I want to be gracious and humble, believing the best of people, and not pushing to have my way on top, but if I'm honest, I'll admit that I bend more towards the critical than the optimistic-- at least in my knee-jerk reactions.

I attended a training last week on Creativity that got me thinking. Give me just a minute to unravel this one...
There are four different roles in the creative process, and each one is important:

1. The Pioneer collects, gathers, wonders & dreams
2. The Artist takes the materials around them & creates something
3. The Judge evaluates the worth & value of the creation
4. The Warrior goes out and does something with the creation

The first two roles tend to be more innovative, dreamy & imaginative, while the second two roles are more practical "get 'er done" types. But, in order to create something that is new, valuable, worthwhile or beautiful, we really need each role in the creative process. If we just have the first two, we sit with our heads in the clouds & get nothing done, and if we only have the second two, we either allow our criticism to stop us, or we jump into something that wasn't well planned.

Okay, I'm going to tie it together now: As I have heard & read the criticism of Kony 2012, I began asking myself: Is it better to act without thinking, or think without acting?

In so many ways, it seems that the boys at Invisible Children have acted without thinking. They have been Artists and Warriors, without taking the time for thoughtful analysis. But it seems that their "opposition" is so busy thinking through all the complexities of the issues in Central Africa that they have not acted. Is one better than the other? In this particular case, I might say Yes.

The criticism is that Invisible Children didn't do it right. And yet, here they are, with 100 million (and counting) views, and the entire world talking about Joseph Kony. I was upset about the simplicity of the film, as well, and have plenty of critiques-- but when was the last time I did a single thing for Uganda? Seriously. In all my passion & knowledge of how to approach the issue, when was the last time I actually approached it?

I am lazy and jaded, and I live in a lazy, jaded culture that would rather write something off as incomplete than step in and help complete it. We all long for something true, beautiful, creative & good in our lives, and when someone takes a stab at it, we jump all over them with our opinions as though they were a restaurant on Yelp, and not a human with thoughts, emotions, strengths and weaknesses.

We all have a role to play in the creative process, but I wonder if we have all taken the "Judge's" seat, and left the role of "Pioneer, Artist, and Warrior" vacant. I know I need more risk in my life. I need to ignore the voice of the Judge in my head a little bit more, and allow myself to innovate, create, and simply step out. Maybe the world needs a little more bad art in it. I know it certainly doesn't need another critic like me.

Kony 2012

I am torn.

My mind has been running circles around Uganda ever since watching Kony 2012 a few days ago. I've been reading blogs, & articles criticizing every aspect of the video and the organization. I've been talking with friends who are directly involved with the peace negotiations and rehabilitation of the abducted children. I've been thinking, talking, and reading about it so much that my brain feels a little melty. My goal was to synthesize the info a bit for all my friends & family who have been asking what I think of it all. But after everything I've heard & read & discussed, I feel even more muddled than before.
Here's my attempt to sort it out:

-I love that the whole world seems to be talking about the injustice of the LRA, and that millions of people have been moved to do something about it.

-I love the way that Invisible Children has raised awareness, and brought issues to light that so many had never heard of. I love that it was a bunch of college kids who didn't know what they were doing, but have held unwaveringly for almost 10yrs in their commitment to bring change. And I love the way that this video has captured the hearts of millions of people who just want to do something to help.

-I love the smell, and the songs, the way the sun feels like it comes through a magnifying glass, the feel of the red, red dirt, the way the hammock sways back and forth at night in the mud hut, and the sound of the children in the Internally Displaced People's Camp in the morning. I love the hospitality, the pace of life, and a million other things that I had forgotten about until I watched that video, and found myself crying like a baby in my kitchen, as my toddler stared at me in confusion. I love Uganda, and I love Ugandans.

But I'm scared, too.

Even in our best intentions, we can enter a situation as outsiders and misdiagnose a problem. In our eagerness to help, we forget to ask questions, we forget to listen. We see a gaping wound and rush in to fix it, without understanding the complexities, the history, and the resources available. It is a good, noble, and beautiful thing to want to help, but sometimes helping hurts.

That has been the major criticism of the film Kony 2012, and there have been so many great thoughts (although most of them have been extremely harsh) that I will not repeat them. If you're interested, here are a few of the best responses I have seen. To sum it up, the video takes an incredibly complex situation and simplifies it into the logic of a 4yr old (literally). It also doesn't give great current information, or the viewpoint of the Ugandan people. Having said all that, though, Invisible Children has done a great job responding to all the criticism.

As I have talked to our friends who are directly involved in the peace negotiations with the LRA, and our friends who have been working directly with the child abductees, there is frustration and mixed feelings about the video. The main problem is that Northern Ugandans do not support the initiative to bring in US troops to "stop" Kony. It's their children who are out there, who would be forced to defend Kony if troops came in to capture him (just like the failed Operation Lightning Thunder, a few years back). They are working, and have been working towards peace negotiations and amnesty programs, and have seen incredible improvement in their region (I have had the privilege of seeing it, and in the tiniest way, even being able to participate in it, myself). The simple solutions (military troops) proposed in the video are not at all what our friends, or most of Northern Uganda, want for their country.

Okay, sorry. I know I said I wasn't going to do all that. Couldn't help myself ;)

So here's the real dilemma: What do we do with all of this?

Kony 2012 raises questions, issues, and brings to light a real problem-- one that breaks our hearts & moves us to action. But now we're all hearing that it's the wrong action, told in the wrong way, by the wrong people. So what do we do? How do we respond to the need without knowing any of the people who are in need? All of the brilliant & pithy criticism still hasn't led to a solution, or even an action step.

Is it better to do something rash, idealistic & ignorant than to spew criticism and do nothing at all? Is there a third option?

I've been asking our friends out there what we can actually do to help, and this is what they've said. (Warning: It's not sexy, glamorous, exciting or edgy)

• Pray: As simple, and even silly as it sounds, that is the first thing that Ugandans ask for. Through the massacres, through the abductions, the mutilations, the rape, and other unspeakable injustices, I was humbled and amazed to see the unwavering faith of the Ugandan people. To be honest, I was ashamed of my own meager spirituality. They believe deeply in God, trust in Him, pray to Him, and want us to do the same.
• Give: Find an organization that is working to rehabilitate the victims of the conflict and give sacrificially to them. In Northern Uganda, there are very few NGO's ("non-profits", to the American) left who are still providing relief and long-term rehabilitation. After spending the summer there, here are some of my favorites:

1. Child Voice International: providing in-depth rehabilitation, counseling, education, job training & a whole lot more to youth affected by the conflict. (The group we lived/worked with. I can't say enough wonderful things about this organization)
   
2. Doctors Without Borders: giving medical assistance to people whose survival is threatened by violence, neglect, or catastrophe. (They were doing great things while we were there)
3. International Justice Mission: working through legal systems (in Uganda, and around the world) to stop injustice. (One of the many complexities in this conflict is the corruption of the Ugandan government)

• Learn: Read up on the conflict, ask about the needs, and share with others. It takes more time, effort & commitment than hanging posters for a night, but it is so very important, if we want to help, to know who we are helping, why, what exactly we are helping them to do, and how we are going to do it. It is also key in this whole process to give help with dignity, collaboration & humility.
• Be an informed consumer: Give me a second on this one... Kony & the LRA have fled up to the Democratic Republic of Congo, where they have become one of many conflicts & genocides in the DRC, Central African Republic, Chad & Sudan. These genocides are being fueled by minerals like Coltan (used in computers & cell phones), silver, gold, diamonds, and copper that are mined (by these rebel groups) in these countries and sold to us. Ever seen Blood Diamond? It's like that. So one thing we can do to help stop Kony (and dozens like him) is to raise awareness for a need of conflict-free Coltan, diamonds, etc. There's a great little group called Call + Response that is a helpful resource to get started in raising awareness & asking companies to be responsible. We can also buy refurbished & second-hand products to reduce the demand for these minerals.

My hope is that some of this was helpful to someone out there. It is an issue so very close to my heart, and I am grateful to Invisible Children for reminding me and informing millions (millions!) of people that there is a pressing, compelling, heart-breaking need out there. I'm not sure that I will be sporting a "Kony 2012" poster in my front yard (if you've seen my front yard, you would know that's actually an act of respect to the campaign!) or wallpapering San Francisco on April 20th. But I promise not to judge you if you do... just promise me you'll look into some of the details. ;)

Thanks for hangin' in there through all this information. I will update Comments with anything new I hear from our friends in the thick of it.

Rhythm

Believe it or not, I was in the Gospel Choir in college. And if I do say so myself, we were good.
Okay, to be perfectly honest, I dropped the choir's status a few notches when they let me in, but it was one of the best things I did with my college career.

Now, as a History major & Art History minor, I also admit that most of my classes weren't extremely challenging to me. I figured out how to write a 10 page paper with a perfect intro, thesis & conclusion, throw some quotes in the middle and get an A without breaking much of a sweat (unless you count the full sprint I usually did getting the paper into the professor's office on time). But learning how to sway back & forth and clap my hands on the off beat while singing required more mental energy for me than all my History classes combined. I am sorry to say that I will never live out my dream of being the drummer in a garage band. Rhythm has never been my strong suit.

My lack of rhythm has played out in the rest of my life, as well. I tend to move forward in awkward fits and starts, trying to pull together certain areas, while others are neglected. I over work, and routinely get sick every time I give myself a break (creating countless disappointing vacations).

There was this brief period of time where Chris & I were onto something. We called in Maintaining. We would set the kitchen timer every night for 10 minutes and clean as much as we could until the timer went off. We created a little weekly chart that we kept on the refrigerator with post-it's that marked how we would spend our free time each evening. We made sure that we included activities in our weekly and monthly schedules that were life-giving, and we also made space for the less-than-exciting duties of life. It was good.

We started the whole project by making lists of activities would restore us, dreaming up a life where we could go camping once every couple of months, hike every weekend, spend one night a week doing something creative or just hang out with the guys. Then we brought our lists together, looked at our calendars and did the best we could to match our fantasy life with reality. We took into account how many nights a week we tended to work late, how often we travel, and trips to the laundry mat and the auto shop.

Surprisingly, our dream life looked pretty similar to what we came up with on our chart. And even more surprising was the fact that we were able to actually live it out. Our lives are full, we travel more than is healthy, and our jobs (although we love them) can be absolutely exhausting. But when we were living out this simple rhythm and were intentional about using our time towards restoration, it was as though the reserves that are so often depleted were protected a bit more.

It is so easy, when I am worn out at the end of the day, to plug into my computer and scroll through Facebook or Pinterest and lose that precious hour or two between Nolan's bed time and my own. It is so easy to turn on Hulu and watch a few episodes of Modern Family, when what I really needed was to sit and talk with my hubby. It's funny how, in the times when we need restoration the most, we slump into our chairs stare at a screen and give ourselves the exact opposite.

Chris & I have decided that it's time to re-establish that rhythm we lost, to make a new plan to fit the current reality of our life, and help us move into living it more deeply, more intentionally. We've been red-lining for too long. So today, Chris takes his last grad-school final EVER (I just want that to soak in for a moment), tonight we celebrate with a giant homemade Italian feast, and tomorrow, we will sit down and create together a structure that will help us really live. Chris describes it an ancient Christian practice called a Rule of Life, but I've never really been one to like the word "rule". I like to think of it more as a rhythm we're creating: clapping, swaying and singing off-beat & out of tune, but singing nonetheless.

House of Cards

I don't usually have much to say about pop culture. We own a TV, technically, but it's not hooked up to cable, and I can't remember the last album I bought. I don't even have an ipod.

Even when the other seventh grade girls were wallpapering their rooms with posters from Teen Magazine (I honestly couldn't even tell you who they were posters of), I was vaguely oblivious. It's not that I am above it all or just too mature to stoop to that level, I just forget to spend my time keeping up. Perhaps is just an innate lack of coolness, or perhaps my inner self is really 90 years old.

And it's fitting that I am writing about Whitney Houston about a week late, long after all the hype has died down... but I've been thinking: We just never learn. We are fascinated with royal weddings, who's wearing what on the red carpet, who's engaged to whom now, and every golden celebrity's opinion on love, sex, and finding themselves. And I'm completely guilty, too. Even though I might be terrible at following it, I can't help but scan the magazine rack (or the Pinterest feed), secretly comparing myself to everyone on the cover. And-- come on, be honest-- who hasn't imagined their acceptance speech while holding an Oscar?

And yet, is one single celebrity out there happy? Do any of them feel secure in who they are, loved, known, content? What is the last celebrity marriage that lasted longer than 20yrs? Everyone is heart broken over the loss of Whitney, but it wasn't that long ago that we were exalting in the chance to criticize her would-be come back & drug use.

I don't say that to criticize Hollywood. More than anything, I am asking myself, What exactly am I attaining to? I confess, I am insecure about my weight, my body. I look in the mirror and see my flaws magnified. I worry about what to wear, and what others think about me. I wish I didn't-- I wish I was more of the confident, collected person I pretend to be, but in all honesty, I really just wish I looked like Rachel McAdams.

Even though I know they're all airbrushed & half-starved, I feel like I should look like all those bronzed, toned beauties, as though they represent a standard, rather than an exception. But even if I was-- even if I magically woke up tomorrow looking like a runway model, would that change anything? We watch celebrities, one after another, die of drug overdoses, check into rehab, settle for divorce and even get sent to jail. They are lonely; they are empty. They deserve my compassion, not my envy.

I hope someday that I can convince myself, deep down, that it is better to be a deeply loved, intimately known, content & authentic person with a few blemishes than an unhappy, addicted, hungry goddess, alone on my pedestal.

What's interesting is that I'm told it's all a house of cards. From what I hear, Cameron Diaz has terrible skin & needs special lighting to hide her acne. Editors go over film second by second to remove bald spots & wrinkles. Photoshop erases so many blemishes that I could very easily look just as good as Adele did in her last photo shoot (okay, maybe not quite, but, you know, close). I wonder what it feels like for Reese Witherspoon to compare herself to her own image on a magazine or in a movie. How sad to be unable to live up to yourself.

The moments when I seem to have the best perspective is when I am connected-- really connected-- with a few other people. It is completely freeing to sit in your sweats with someone and feel at home, unselfconscious, known. I never seem to worry in those moments about the surface. May I put more of an effort cultivating those moments & relationships than anything of less importance.

One More Block

There's this reoccurring dream I have had throughout my life, and it's wonderful. The setting is always a little bit different, but the feeling is the same: I am running; running long distances, and sort of gliding over the air, as though there was an elliptical under my feet instead of ground. In my dream, I am always amazed at how easy it is, delighted that I have unlocked the secret that all those other runners must experience when I see them effortlessly bouncing by. I love that dream.

I have mentioned before that I am not exactly a natural athlete. I am sure that I must be missing something, because when I have tried jogging, it is simply not the experience that other people are having. It's like there are magnets in my feet, and I am trying to gracefully trot over a metal sidewalk. I usually make it a humiliating couple of blocks, feel like I'm going to puke, and turn around in disgrace. It's terrible.

I am told that if I were to stick with it, it would get easier. Maybe that's true, but when I feel like death after less than 5 minutes, I have to admit it's just not very motivating. Give me a yoga mat, and a peppy little instructor in my TV, and I'm happy working out in the privacy of my own living room. I will never experience the personal triumph of running a marathon, but I can fit into my jeans, and that's good enough for me.

About a month ago, I had this perspective & vision & insight into my own heart & the way that I am living my life. I wanted to make a change in my daily habits, living more openly & generously, releasing my comforts and really following Jesus into loving my neighbor as myself. I knew it would be one of those things that didn't come easily, but that was too important to let go. So, I decided to go about a 40day [vegan] fast, focusing on prayer, examining my heart, making intentional steps to live more openly, and the like.

A few days into it, I shared my thoughts & vision with our staff team, and invited them to join me in fasting & praying. That night, half our team came down with a stomach flu so violent that it made 6wks of Ugandan parasites & 9mos of pregnant nausea seem like a cake walk. I won't go into details, but I can never remember being so sick in my life-- and neither could our unfortunate staff. About a week later, I shared our vision with our students, and after poorly communicating what was on my heart, ended up hurting & offending several people, causing a huge rift, drama, pain & conflict. Chris & I started fighting over the dumbest little things, so angry at each other that we couldn't be in the same room. Our toddler got sick again, and we stayed up most of the night listening to him coughing to the point of vomiting. I can't even remember what happened after that, but you get the picture.

Each time I hit a road block, I got the feeling that I was heading the right direction, and that the opposition was trying to keep me from getting there. I'm not talking creepy Poltergeist type movies complete with a soundtrack, but the real, everyday Good-verses-Evil struggle that we so often forget about. There's a line in this great 90's movie that says "The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he didn't exist". In those moments when you try to stand up and really create change, you can expect to run smack into a wall, and I don't believe that's a coincidence.

I am less than a week away from completing my 40day fast. It's kind of funny that when the big, obvious road blocks came up along the way, I actually felt more motivated to press on. But something happened in the last week or so: the stomach flu was gone, the conflict more or less resolved, we were sleeping through the night again... and I started running out of steam. The other day, I just crammed a brownie into my mouth (it wasn't even good-- it was 4days old, and I wasn't hungry at all), not caring about my fast, not feeling motivated to change the world, or even think slightly visionary thoughts. Over it.

My mind was filled with thoughts of defeat, futility, and a dragging desire to just let go & rest. I thought about all the praying & talking I had done, and realized that I hadn't really changed any of my habits, or made one tangible step to "open my doors".

It felt like the difference between dreaming of running, and actually trying to run. I get these grand visions of saving the world-- like Frodo gripping the ring and marching off in the direction of Mordor-- and after a few blocks I'm ready to turn back.

From what I'm told, the best thing to do in those moments is to push yourself to run just one more block... and to go back the next day & do the same thing. I've never really tried it, but supposedly, after a week or so, your body starts cooperating & you get into a groove.

It's tempting to stop now, to admit defeat. But I'm going to try to make it one more block...

Tracing Waves

As I walked past this giant, dog-sized bird, it's crazy googly eye followed me, and it seemed to give me a subtle, drunken smirk. Pelicans are goofy looking critters up-close. They tuck their enormous beaks down into their feathers, looking a little bit like a fat old man, resting his double chin in his chest to take a snooze.

I'm definitely not a fan of birds in general. They are dirty & gross, and when they flutter around me I get all nervous & jittery inside. Seagulls and pigeons are the worst-- filthy scavengers that are bold enough to walk right up to me & take my food. Pelicans always seemed like super-sized seagulls to me, and I've held a healthy (or possibly unhealthy) fear of them.

But yesterday morning, I took a quiet walk along the beach in Oceanside, and something about those pelicans changed my opinion of them.

I had never noticed before but as they scan for fish, they glide along the tops of breaking waves, tracing the crest with one of their wings and gliding along it until it crumbles. It is elegant & graceful, and almost even playful-- like a little girl running her fingers along the top of a fence as she walks by.

It is simply what they were made for, and as I watched them follow the waves over and over, I couldn't help but acknowledge the goodness of a Creator. What a beautiful thing it is to see something doing exactly what it was created to do. And how comical and out of place is can be to see that same creature in a different context-- like my pelican friend that watched me from the pier with a smile on his face.

It occurred to me that every single morning, those pelicans trace the waves, without me watching. I bustle about my day, my mind orbiting the million and one things I need to get done, and this perfect, tranquil scene happens everyday, with or without me. As I walked along the beach, I felt perfectly at peace, content, safe.

A memory popped into my head from several weeks back. I had been exhausted, stressed out, and felt empty & even a little depressed. I gave a seminar to a room exploding with students about justice, compassion & generosity, and as I spoke, I suddenly felt alive. A friend told me later that it just seemed like it was something I was created to do, and as funny as it sounded, it felt like she was right.

I can be awkward, clumsy and simply fail at times. I don't always feel at home in my own skin, and despite my efforts, there are some things I will just never be good at. But it gives me a peace to watch something as goofy & comical as a pelican skim across the crest of a wave, knowing there is a certain mysterious order and purpose to the way we each operate, the way we were each created.

Changing the world, from my couch

Alright, I admit it-- I've never really been one to push the envelope too far. I can tell a few great stories about bullets whizzing over my head in Compton, or living in a mud hut in a refugee camp, and I totally pierced my nose & got a tattoo before... well, before a few other people did... but when it comes down to it, I'm not really much of a risk taker.

My brother-- my brother, on the other hand, was the kind of kid who blew up sticks of dynamite in his friend's toilets, raced cross country dressed as a Super Mario character, outran cops, fired semi-automatic assault rifles for fun (don't worry, it was at a paper target) .... I guess people are just wired differently.

The highlight of most days happens about a half hour after Nolan goes to bed, and I can sip a mug of hot tea while reading a book on the couch in complete silence. A deep sense of calm and inner feng shui settles over me when the dishes are washed, the house is clean, and I can sit & be still. I absolutely love-- love-- that I can wake up early every morning, eat breakfast, pray, do some Pilates & take a shower before my little guy wakes up.

It's not that I'm a super neat, clean, structured person-- I'm actually pretty disorganized & a bit haphazard-- it's just that I really like having control over my space, being able to dictate my schedule, have time to myself, and basically do the things I want to do.

Now, before you start hating my perfect life, let me just say that my pretty picture of Life-As-It-Should-Be and Reality are usually pretty different. I get sick a lot. I travel a lot. We work late nights several times a week, and I often sleep too late to make my ideal morning routine happen. But in my mind, I'm kind of entitled to my own space, my own time, my own schedule & routine & rest & even just a little bit of pampering. Who knows why I believe I should have all that-- maybe I should blame commercials on TV, telling me that I need that vacation, that perfect moment with my cup of coffee, or that chocolate indulgence.

I do know that when those things I'm entitled to-- my sleep, my "me time", my exercise, my quiet-- are taken away, I don't always respond well. I'm realizing that I hold an iron-tight grip on my comfort; that I form an imaginary barrier around my home, trying to ward off any new variables until I can sort out everything I've got in front of me here. Maybe the real issue is that I don't want anyone to see that I don't have it all together.

Like I said, I don't really like to take many risks. I would much rather try to straighten up my little messes around me, and then retreat to the comfort of my couch.

I was confronted with this inconsistency a few weeks back, after having a conversation with someone who has lived most of his life without the option of any of those comforts that I feel so entitled to. It's not that I didn't know that brokenness like that existed in the world, it was the fact that it was sitting across from me at my kitchen table, sharing about a life without family, Home, belonging & care. It's one thing to read about it, to see it in a movie, or even confront it on the street, but all those elements of pain that put a pit in my stomach were in my own comfortable home, telling their story.

I was a bit shaken.

A dull ache settled into my chest. I am too comfortable. I cling to my comfort much too tightly. I wondered about who lived behind the closed doors I could see outside my kitchen window, what they were going through. I thought about how I close my own doors-- both physically & emotionally-- during my "off hours", carefully planning my time with people that I enjoy, who think like me & (for the most part) look like me. I thought about how I live out the teachings of Jesus to a certain point, until it gets too uncomfortable... then I just read about the rest of it from the safety of my own home.

Thoughts like this are scary. They're scary for two reasons: 1) What if I know these things are true, and never act on them, and 2) What if I actually did the things I'm thinking about right now. I've done just enough with my life to know that living a life of risk, openness, and genuine love & care is so very costly & uncomfortable. It is the kind of thing that makes you give when you're empty & worn out, in the middle of the night, when all you need is sleep and time to yourself. That is a difficult thing to walk into. It's not romantic or thrilling; there's no rosy glow around those moments, and you always wish they would have come at a better time.

But, unfortunately, if I'm going to be honest with myself, I know that is what following Jesus looks like. I don't know how I've been able to convince myself otherwise, but I do know that there is a belief that is pretty deeply engrained that I can give my life to my Creator and still be entitled to comfort at least five days out of the week.

I know-- it sucks to think this way, doesn't it? It's so tempting to ask rhetorical questions about self sacrifice, wait for an answer in the silence, and then move on feeling pretty deep & philosophical. But I didn't want to do that.

So, what I'm working in now is a time of extended fasting & prayer. I'll share more about it later, but I can say for now that 2+ weeks into it, it hasn't been pretty. As it turns out, I am incredibly ungraceful in my attempts at openness, self-sacrifice and stepping outside of my comfort zone. But I'm not being too hard on myself.
"To the stars, on the wings of a pig", right?
I pray that this lumbering soul will begin to learn how to fly...