The Race with Time

Donald Miller wrote: "Some people skip through life; some people are dragged through it. I sometimes wonder whether we are moving through time or time is moving through us."

I woke up today realizing that I'm over half-way done with my program in school, and that in mere months I'll be off to my internship. Where has the time gone? For that matter, it seemed like yesterday I was watching the sun set while sitting on the clay ground of the Navajo Nation. Time does more than "fly"...it shoots like an arrow, and you're lucky if you can grab it's wind as it zooms by. It makes me wonder how I'm on time for anything. I don't think that it's necessarily me whose running late, but rather the late that is doing all of the running.

David (the former shepherd turned king) wrote:
4 "Show me, O LORD , my life's end
and the number of my days;
let me know how fleeting is my life.
5 You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
the span of my years is as nothing before you.
Each man's life is but a breath.

6 Man is a mere phantom as he goes to and fro:
He bustles about, but only in vain;
he heaps up wealth, not knowing who will get it.

What is success to you? Working in any industry can be cut-throat (I know the music industry is). People step on others as rungs in a latter of (what they view is) success. I think Rich Mullins said it best when he commented: "I tend to think success is overrated, that it's something everybody goes after until they get it, then nobody know what to do with it."

I revisited the White Mountains in Arizona last weekend. I had lived in Show Low for 6 years before I journeyed to the Phoenix area for school. Driving through the mountains I passed snow which was on the side of the road, and awed to see that at night the stars still play. And in that moment something awoke in me again. I believe that what awoke was the realization of not only the fragility and shortness of life, but also of the quality. I remembered what was valuable, and what I believe success is...

Success for me is having a relationship with the Creator of the Universe.
Success for me is being loved, and having someone to love.
Success for me is getting lost in the night sky, the power of the ocean, and witnessing the strong gentleness of wind blowing through the trees.
Success for me is the experience of having compassion...whether it's on the receiving or giving end.
Success for me is banging out love songs on a piano or singing at the top of my lungs while playing guitar.
Success for me is worshiping God, with my actions, words and thoughts.

Time tugs, and if you're not careful it will sweep you off your feet. What is success to you? Let success be the quality of living, not the amount of getting, or spending.

Mercy New

Everyday is a new start.

It's been raining for a day. I woke up to the chill of rain outside, and drove to school this morning around 6 a.m. (Yes, be impressed...6 a.m., without coffee even) On the way to school my windows were fogging, so I had to use my defroster. Everything was saturated and wet. The street, the trees, my truck. I know, you're like, "Duh, that's what rain DOES, Joel." But you don't understand the novelty.

I'm not a big fan of heat (even if it's dry), and right now I live in Chandler (which is next to Phoenix). It cracks me up when people say, "Well, it's a DRY heat." Cummon, ovens are dry heat too! I know there are hotter places, but give this mountain boy the cool mountain air! My theory with Phoenix is that it was not discovered, but rather it was stumbled on by a guy who (like in the cartoons) was crawling on all fours, crying out in desperation "W-a-a-a-t-er..." And in Phoenix he found a tree with a puddle of water. Looking around he thought, "There's no way I'll be able to find my way out of this." So he built a home, and he was a haven to other people who were lost in the desert. Who knows...it could have happened.

My point is that I'm thankful for the rain, even if it doesn't seem so in my zombie-like, groggy state. On the way to school in my truck, the thing that kept coming to my mind was the word mercy. Mercy for me. Mercy for you. Mercy for the poor, the widow, and the outcast. Mercy for the people in my school, for my teachers, and for the people I work with. Mercy from the heat, to be sure, but more than that: mercy from the past. Everyday is a new start. The Creator of the Universe has allowed me a second chance (actually, it's not a SECOND chance at all, but more like chance # 235,197,002,432). However, it's my second chance because He doesn't count the other 235,197,002,431 tries against me. He's wiped the whiteboard of my exsistence clean, and His gift to me today is a mercy new, saturated, morning of His love: to love in, to play in, and to live in as best I can.

I'm going to go jump in a puddle. You're invited to join me.


Psalm 59:16
But I will sing of Your power; Yes, I will sing aloud of Your mercy in the morning; For You have been my defense And refuge in the day of my trouble.

Serendipity, "a surprise ending"

When God uses me, it often feels like a mistake. Not that I don't think that God can use me...but rather, I don't mean for Him to use me. As a matter of fact, the first thing out of my mouth when I realize that God used me is usually, "Oops." People sometimes have come up to me and told me, "God really spoke to me through what you said." And the first thing that I try to do is remember what I said; always grateful, but sometimes confused.

One day I was in church and there was a ministry time when people stood up to receive prayer. The pastor asked for those standing around the people to pray for those who were standing. Reluctant, and a little awkward, I came up beside this person, put my hand on his shoulder, and just started to pray that God would fill that person with His love. All of the sudden, the person that I was praying for fell down flat on his back! People rushed over and I winced back thinking "What have I done!?!?!" Apparently they called what happened as "Being slain in the Spirit." One of the guys that rushed over, looked at me in my eyes and said, "God's going to really use you." The first thing that I thought was, "I hope not!" I thought, "God's going to use me by slaying people?!?" It scared me to death (no pun intended). It was at least a month before I had the courage to pray for another person, and when I did gain the courage to pray for someone again it was with a silent disclaimer at the end of the prayer, asking: "...And God, please don't knock this person down." I'm not saying that I'm pentecostal per se, that's just what happened and the person (now a friend of mine) is OK, he wasn't hurt in the "slaying"...and he says that God really used that instance to speak into his life. So, "Praise God"....but..."Oops."

I think the greatest serendipity is that the sovereign God would work through flawed, weak, and sometimes stupid human beings. That as we are, He calls us to be who we are, so that He can use us (even in our frailty) to reach into a hurting world with His love. Sometimes, God does this without us knowing, and that is the biggest serendipity of all.

Serendipity, "the agreeable"

My truck sucks. I don't mean it in a derogatory "it's a peace of trash" kind of way. I mean it like a friend, playfully batting around a joking brash of a verbal noogy. I used to think of my truck as a female. Not just because it's temperamental (just kidding women), but because that's the manly thing to do. Pilots would name their planes after their woman interest back home, almost creating these women to be mythical creatures that every enlisted man dreamt of. Not so with my truck. My truck is definitely a guy. My truck is a close friend whose favorite thing to do is to play practical jokes on ME. It's like a constant game of playing bloody knuckles...or a playful battle of dead leg. I fix it. It works wonderfully. Then the transmission goes out. I get that fixed. Then the stinking door handle breaks, at the same time as needing an oil change, and new tires. My truck is a punk. Very rarely is there peace between me and my truck.

Peace:
a state of tranquillity or quiet

David (a guy who watched sheep until he was made into a king) once wrote,
"God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts."

As a king, David was always in war. Chaos happened most of David's life. But David found peace, in the all sufficiency of God. That though the earth was falling apart at it's hinges, David new that the Creator of the Universe was ever-present in every situation. And no matter what happened David knew that though his trials sucked, God liked him, and He would never forget David. Very rarely would there be peace in David's world, but he found peace regardless in the sanctuary of his heart. In the same sitting David wrote:
[God speaking]
"Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth."

The Peace of God, I believe, is "the agreeable," and all I know is that the peace that God gives has as much of a habit of sneaking up on me as the tragedy of life. That though everything in my world might be opposing me, I'm not too worried...and that sort of surprises me. I don't think that it would be that way if I weren't friends with the Giver of peace. I'm surprised by peace...everyday. I don't need to fret too terribly much because there isn't one thing that God cannot only get me through, but He can also use it to make me stronger in the end. I can't really explain it. But maybe that's why it's the peace that "surpasses all understanding."