It isn't uncommon that my face to fails to make the appropriate expression as I perceive the world around me. My response to this song was no different. At first I laughed in amusement, then dropped my jaw in surprise, then I grimaced with disdain, and then I laughed with disbelief... and I still don't know whether I find the lyrics to this song funny or disheartening or a bit of both.

"I’m really glad I found my way to church
‘Cause I’m already feelin’ better and I thank God for the words
Yeah I’m goin’to take the high road
And do what the preacher told me to do
You keep messin’ up and I’ll keep prayin’ for you"

And then proceeds to pray for judgement and punishment... I realize that this song is written with some jest and I am not offended by music on the radio.... but the lyrics did make me think because this is sad, but true. How many people convince themselves that they are taking the high road through prayer, when really they are justifying the bitterness and pride in their own hearts through a religious practice?

How often do we pray for God's wrath rather than His love and mercy? Do we pray for our enemies to experience hell or to find the redemption of salvation? Jesus prayed for His enemies to be forgiven, and Paul reminded us to do good to those who harm us because we are "little Christs". Quoting Proverbs, Romans 12:20 reads:

"If your enemy is hungry, feed him; 

if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.

In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.”

Neither suggested that we desire that actual burning coals be heaped on their heads.  It's interesting that Jesus' outline of how to pray in the Lord's prayer is to pray that debts would be forgiven, that temptations would be lifted, and that things would be as they are in heaven (not as they are in God's wrath and the tortures of hell). And, here Paul reminds us that we are supposed to play an active role in bringing a little bit of God's goodness to this world. Through prayer and deed, we are supposed to reflect God's love and mercy. And, it is the very absence of those attributes that comprise God's wrath and judgement; if God wasn't loving and merciful, He couldn't be jealous and just. People either forget that love and service toward those less than likable people in our lives could transform them into our friends, or forget that it is their love and service that may lead people to repentance by showing them the Godly sorrow of true conviction by means of selfless kindness. Either way, the prayer is for reconciliation and redemption, not for destruction.

Jesus begged for those who were persecuting Him, while Jonah wished that people he despised would remain unrepentant and see God's wrath to its fullest extent. Who will we model our prayers after? When we pray for wars and conflicts, do we pray that men like Joseph Kony would repent from his sins or burn in hell for all the children he has corrupted? When we pray for thieves and murders, do we pray that they will experience true liberation or be locked in an eternal prison away from God's presence? When we pray for prostitutes and drug dealers, do we pray that they would enter our services and our homes and become our friends, or do we pray that they would flee from our cities?

Are will praying God's will over the world around us or our idea of what God's will should be? The distinction between obeying the preacher and obeying the High Priest may appear slight, but it really makes all the difference. It is the distinction between praying like Jesus and praying like Jonah.

As C.H. Spurgeon once wisely suggested: "Prayer itself is an art which only the Holy Spirit can teach us. Pray for prayer.  Pray until you can really pray." The Holy Spirit, the spirit that rose Christ from the grave, lives within us and can teach us to pray like Jesus prayed. Instead of Jonah like prayers where I give God suggestions of how to fix this broken world, I pray that Spirit will continue to teach me to pray like Christ, to pray that the Father's will be done on earth as it is in Heaven and that my life could play a little role in actively showing the world His goodness.

And, I'll continue to pray the same for you...

Seat belt, check. Harness, check. Thumbs up from the operator, check. Click, click, click. Up, we go. Obligatory poking and mocking the scared younger sibling or older grandparent riding with you, check. Momentary hang time at the top, and then... double fist pumped hands up, breaking the rules by standing up, smile on your face as  you scream... a 225 foot plunge and 1 minute 45 seconds of twisted metal and air time... then brakes... station... disembark.

Multiple people have suggested to me that I keep a blog for my ministry partners and support team.

So, here is the game plan folks. This blog remains active, and I remain faithful to it. You can continue to expect randomness, reflections, revelations, reviews, rants, and a number of other things that aren't coming to mind at the moment because of the amount of alliteration in this sentence.  Definitely keep checking in here. This place will continue to be the best source of insight to what is going inside my head.

The other blog will become my main source of communication with my support team.  If you want the updates specifically regarding what I am doing with Chi Alpha, follow that blog as well. [Also, shameless plug, I am still short of my budget and really need some help support raising. If you know of anyone who might be interested in investing in campus ministry, please let me know or send them towards the info pages on the other blog. Thanks!!]

Why have two different blogs? Well, some people will want to know what is going on with the ministry on campus, but could care less about the musing of my mind. I don't like the compartmentalization, but in this particular circumstance, I see value in it. Somedays there will be overlap, I'm sure.

Another reason for the separation, I don't want my personal musings to be seen as the face of the ministry on campus... especially since I plan on making this blog a little more public and transparent than it has been. What do I mean by that? Well, for one, I am going to make it findable for the first time... and I am going to be posting a lot more links on facebook to this site.

Why? Recently God has really been challenging me to tap back into my hidden giftings and to be a lot more public with the things that make me who I am -- my passion for processing the world around me, writing, books, theology, music, culture, and all the other things that I have touched upon or should have touched upon in this blog over the years. There may also be a return to the more creative writing, photography, art, and all that jazz...

As my public ministry officially launches with this internship, my personal ministry... my life... is also going to be put on display for all to see... and this blog is my life in type, one day at a time. 

The marquee indicated that the bus was headed north, its location on the road suggested it was heading south, and my memory recalled that this particular weekend route had a deceptive loop. I needed a southbound bus to reach my purposed destination; I didn't need to board this bus. Accidentally, but knowingly, I walked up the stairs and embarked on a ridiculous, roundabout journey.  Bused to a metro stop north of my apartment, only to board the metro headed southeast, and then walked about a mile northeast to arrive at my intended destination right on schedule.

The dots have been spread out all over the page for awhile... and now they are quickly connecting one by one... I would have never seen this picture coming, and I am still unsure of how it will turn out... but my life is going somewhere and it's going to be one wild ride. And, I wouldn't have it any other way.

"are you kidding me?! your life is the best story ever."

"All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely." 1 Cor 13:12 (NLT) 

One last post concerning Ibiza.... for now at least. For anyone who has talked with me in the last four months, you know that I had a tremendous amount of difficulty deciding whether or not to go on this trip.  I am in the middle of support raising for my internship, out of contacts and ideas, and about $1000 a month short of my goal... and I hopped on a plane and fled the country. It was irrational and not great timing... yet I still felt like I should go.

With my eyes fixed on my tattoo -Kairos, timing, opportunity, my monument to what God has done in my life... and my ear turned to Heaven hoping that I heard Him correctly... I charged the plane tickets on my credit card and decided to seize the opportunity. I did  so fully knowing that the consequences could be irreversible. But, I believed I heard God say "go", so I went.

In retrospect, it was absolutely God and regardless of the consequences, I will never regret boarding that plane. My time in Ibiza was two of the best weeks of my life, and may actually greatly impact my future as I have reconfirmed some things that He has been revealing about my life. And, He reconfirmed that I know how to hear His voice.

Before Ibiza, when I glanced down at the tattoo... I was reminded of all the Kairos moments I seemingly missed. The moments were I interpreted God's leading incorrectly, when I hesitated too long to see God move, and when I flat out disobeyed God intentionally by ignoring Him.

Now when I look down at the tattoo, I am reminded of what happens when I obey God's voice... incredible, life changing experiences.. specific directions to streets and corners where opportunities to help people and amazing conversations occur...specific questions and words for  people... specific insights to things going on in the spiritual realm... specific scriptures, pictures and words to pray through. When glance down at my wrist, I remember that I hear God's voice and I know how to respond to the way He speaks to me. I recall this with a humble submission knowing that it is all God and all for His glory...  and a holy confidence knowing that with Him all things are possible.

The night rounds start around midnight and go until four or five in the morning. We go out in twos, armed with a bag full of bibles, first aid and vomit cleaning supplies, water, lighters, and prayer cards. Some shifts out involve walking a drunk person home, some are messy, some involve rides in the vomit wagon, but others just involve conversations and prayer with people. Generally long conversations happen on slower nights. Wednesday is normally a busier messier night, but last Wednesday, my second to last night on the island...I had both a busy night and a good long conversation.

His friend stopped us to inform us that we would need the wheel chair later that night to take his buddy home. His mate was celebrating his last night on the island, and seemed smart enough to not drink himself into a stupor. After sharing that I was also leaving soon, we began discussing why I came to Ibiza. Which led to how I decided to enter into ministry and why I became a Christian. Then the conversation shifted to how we can help people in the areas we live in and then back to how to find authentic Christians. Then he confessed to me that he once believed and could no longer... that he felt like God had abandoned him.. that he had no purpose in his life because he had missed his opportunity already. The questions that followed included: "Why doesn't God answer my prayers? How can I hope for a purpose when I already messed that up? Does God even know me? Is it possible that He forgot to give me a purpose, that some people are useless? Why do bad things happen if God cares? How can He forgive us for those bad things that we do, for the missed opportunities?".  Question by question, I tried to my best to relay what I know to be true.. in summary: "Jesus loves you mate. He knows you. He has a purpose for you. I don't know why you feel like He is far off. I understand it though, I've been there and felt that...but I challenge you to give God a chance again. With a sincere heart ask Him to reveal Himself and He will. Matthew 7:7, a life verse for me. Can I pray with you, that it would be your life verse too. That you will continue to seek God and find Him?" 

Our willingness to stop allowed God to use me to speak some words of truth and encouragement into the life of a prodigal son and to share my testimony with him. Awesome, and I know his name and bits and pieces of his story.... which means I can continue praying for him. Here is to being willing to slow down, even on the busy nights, and take the time to listen to and talk with others.

As the plane descended into the airport, my first thought about Ibiza involved climbing the mountains and jumping into the sea. Ascending into the sky two weeks later, I was wondering if my return trip would involve some outdoor antics. Love the idea of rock climbing, but my upper body strength isn't as great as it used to be.. and I just may be too insecure to even attempt it. Even if I can find the footholds and hand grips, I don't know if I can pull myself up the rock face. The imagery of the side of the cliff stuck in my mind throughout the duration of my twenty something hours in transit.

Footholds? Reminds me of the lovely phrase: "don't give the devil a foothold". I've wrote about this before, and I will probably write about it again... I think I have some footholds and hand grips exposed in my life that need to be dealt with in the upcoming year. My time in Ibiza confirmed that, but also affirmed the fact that the devil is too weak to pull himself up the rock face.

Let me explain in a different way.... on the flight back, I was trying to watch some mindless movies to deter my thoughts. My choice: She's Outta My League. Funny, the film takes place near my home turf in Pittsburgh mainly at the airport. One sentence plot summary: an average guy starts dating an successful, attractive woman who he perceives to be out of his league and his insecurity about the incompatibility leads him to almost ruin the relationship. Like the guy in the film, I am extremely insecure and often worry more about the disparities in life than the possibilities. For me, I often feel like the tasks God calls me to are outta of my league.

In a previous entry, I mentioned three foothold areas that God and I am working on... artsy creativity, physical fitness, and self expression via personal appearance. If you want a healthy dose of exposure therapy for those three things, I would suggest clubbing. When they informed me that we were going clubbing at the world's most respectable nightclub, my initial thought was "*gulp* I can't do this. Love house music, love to dance, love people... but I can't do this, I am not good enough to be a clubbing person, life in Ibiza is outta my league. So, how do I get out of this? Or rather, how do I push through?"

That small foothold of insecurity could have led me to not go out with the team. It could have led me to going out and being miserable. It could have led me to missing an awesome opportunity to worship God in the midst of a sea of people worshiping music, alcohol, drugs and sex. Instead, I pushed through and LOVED every moment of it. Why? I loved  the experience because God created me with a love of music, dance and worship, but the footholds of my personal insecurity are generally just enough room for the devil to get a grip on my life and cripple me with fear.... preventing me from fully being the person God created me to be.

Upon my return stateside, I am already eagerly awaiting another opportunity to climb some personal mountains... I am also aware of that I need to destroy some exposed footholds and hand grips in my own life. Here is to ten months in DC, the place where I am most insecure, to continue to prove to myself that this calling on my life is not outta my league with God's help and guidance. After those ten months, we'll see where He leads me... I can only hope that it's to a place way outta my league so that I know that I am clinging to Him, being the person He created me to be.

Being the American that I am, I smirked every time one of the UK peeps asked "What's your favorite bit?"... such a funny phrase that reminds me of puppy chow, but nevertheless an adequate question. Bit is defined as a small fraction of the whole and anything I could write about the last two weeks would be just that: a small piece of a massive life changing experience. Since I know that even my master oration skills can not do my time in Ibiza justice, here is the first of a few bits and pieces of my time in Ibiza. 

Night 2: PR worker directs us to a passed out man sleeping under the serving window of a bar. Abby and I sat him up and attempt to wake him up. After several minutes of poking pressure points and some water on the back of the neck, he opens his eyes... looks at Abby and throws up all over her, and then rolls back over. I kneel down next to him and prop him up against my knees. He is still not responding, there is bloody vomit everywhere, and his breathing is slowing. His eyes are rolling and we do not know his name or anything about him. The Spanish police stop to ask us if we need help. Through broken Spanglish, we relay the message that our newly acquired friend needs medical attention. They phone the local ambulance (not the expensive private clinic like most authorities phone). A bar owner comes out and berates us for slowing his business because of the drunk in the street. The police ask him to leave and decide to stay with us to help ward off the crowd of scoffers. A drunken group of guys walk by, identify the kid, but refuse to help us get him home or to a medical center. They run off cursing the spectacle, abandoning their friend. Abby and I carry him a block to the main street with our police escort friends. On the ground, in the recovery position, his head in my arms we waited for the ambulance to take our new friend away. He'll never remember our names, but he may remember that someone helped him when everyone else left him unconscious in the streets, and I will never forget him or the police who waited with us.

Later that night, with sick still soaking the bottom of my jeans and the smell of vomit spritzed through my hair... worship continued as we celebrated in the club until sunrise. When I remembered that I was wearing a bit of our dear friend's rough night, I couldn't help but smile because I  know Jesus was smiling too.  This is His kind of community... one that selflessly serves the masses, faithfully ministers to the few, and jubilantly celebrates the One true God.

As my facebook status currently indicates, I walked out of church this morning. Standing there, I tried to worship God, but it felt so contrived-  like I was faking it. The music was familar and well played, but my heart was not in it. Too much head noise, too many distractions. The lights flickering from the stage, my annoyance at the group of girls commenting on how I was wearing jeans and a tshirt, the prayers intertwined with the song that sounded like they were straight from a Christianese Hallmark card, singing songs about fire falling down and being the hands and feet of the Gospel knowing that the words are seemingly empty... I could not focus. Nothing in worship changed from the last time I was there, none of these criticisms are new, but for some reason this morning I could not get through the emerging church "Sunday's coming" model  that every church has seeming adopted (catch the funny video reference on vimeo). I dropped to my knees hoping to tune out the distractions and hear God's voice...

"Why are you here? This isn't you. You want to love and serve me with all you have, all I have given you and this isn't the place for you. Here, you are caged. So why are you trying soo hard to fit here? Just leave. Get up, walk to your car, leave. We can talk on your way back. We'll start with your family. Love and serve there. If they see you like this, so passionate and wrecked and excited, they will understand. Go tell them what you have seen, how you have changed, what you desire... let's start there. Get up and worship me...."

So I got up, and as soon as I had the opportunity to sneak out without being distracting, I walked out mid-worship and got in my car. 4.5 hours later....after hours of worship through prayer, spoken word, spontaneous song, and a bit of dancing behind the wheel...

Through a stream of tears, I began telling my brother what God is doing in my life, what God is doing in Ibiza, what I hope God will continue doing in the people I met these last few weeks.  From the perspective of my brother who has known me my entire life and has not necessarily been affirming of what I have been doing recently, "Yeah, that all sounds cool. Sounds like something you'd do. Sounds more like you than what you are doing now. You're going back, right? For a few months, maybe a year or something? I can't see you there forever, well I can't actually see you anywhere forever, but I can see you living in Spain for a bit.  Just be sure to get some international calling on that phone."
 
Survey says: I have a strong feeling I'll be back in Ibiza next summer. The question is just a matter of the length and context of my stay on the island.

Words penned into my journal while watching the sun disappear over the horizon...
 

Last night, the smell of alcohol still on my hands, my jeans damped from sick... I turn to the Word... share a bit of truth, prophesied to the dry bones, trusting in their liberation... my words are His weapons... arrows targeting deception... my hands are His tools, lifting the downtrodden, comforting the shoulders of the brokenhearted... my feet, His vehicle... unveiling His glory and Good News to the nations in the streets... paving the way for the King. His bass fills my ears, my heart invaded by the rhythm of His grace... and this is Home... where earthly destruction meets heavenly beauty, where overindulgence meets selfless worship... here my heart finds its unexpected home... in the proximity or the place? perhaps a little of both... either way, as the sun sets, the lights rise again. as the sky darkens, their dawn breaks... and they'll emerge into the streets... and we'll welcome them home... into Your arms.

It began with dreams of sharing the Gospel in the streets. As the trees were shedding their leaves, my nights were filled with the ghosts of the alleyways. I saw myself standing on the corner chatting with a group of people about Jesus, laying hands on darkened buildings, and treading through the rain drenched European cobblestone.

Before the snow fell, I already knew.The front page of a new Moleskin, in ink... I penned: "Ibiza." As that last dot hit the page, visions of many years past invaded my mind. My secret European dreams.

Oh, I am living the dream. It may only be for two weeks, but this is Heaven on Earth. The mountains, the sea, the hand of God at work, moving with the rhythm of prayer and Spirit, praising Him through song and dance... this is it.

And, the more I am here, the more my heart knows I will return. To the cobblestone, to the pub, to the other side of the world. I cannot explain the allure or the burden, but I feel like I belong here. At the vortex of Spain and the UK, a crazy American is feeling at home.

For the first time in a long time, I feel complete.