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Christian Hipsters and Hatian Boat People

the reality of being in a situation where one is being remade is very daunting. things that were are no more. confidence that existed has turned to pause and caution.
being 47 and being re-worked from the ground up is kinda scary. should be enjoying a chosen career. should be dealing with connections, making plans for retirement, looking at some time shares, planning out long road trips.

not.

so the question is this...will my attitude be that of the "Christian Hipster" that seems to reflect the emergent cool look, rely on connections, conferences and clothes (disqualified already)?

saw an interview once of a guy who had been on a boat from Haiti for 3 weeks. he was asked how he felt (a question that i was asked today). he said in his deep Haitian accent..."i am just happy to be here."

I'm just happy to be here. still allowed to be involved in a vibrant church, creative people to work along side, and "my wife still lets me in at night."

kinda sums it all up.

attitude?

I'm just happy to be here.

sometimes...i remember

it all started last night when i was channel surfing. came across this show called Crossroads. Jamey Johnson and Shooter Jennings hooked up and sang each others tunes.

not a country music guy, but when hard livin outlaws sing about the old outlaw days, it always brings me back to the heartache i lived through for so many years.

this song, was my life for so long. set free from that now. no desire to go back. but the honesty here is so close to my actions it was scary. especially the part about the church...well all of it. it was as if he had taken a year out of my life and put it down to music.

The High Cost of Living

I was just a normal guy
Life was just a nine to five
With bills and pressurePiled up to the sky
She never asked She knew
I’d beHangin’ with my wilder friends
Looking for some other way to fly
And three days straight was no big feat
Could get by with no food or sleep
And crazy was becoming my new norm
I’d pass out on the bedroom floor
And sleep right through the calm before the storm

My life was just an old routine
Every day the same damn thing
I couldn’t even tell I was alive
I tell youThe high cost of livin’Ain’t nothing like the cost of livin’ high

That southern Baptist parking lot
Is where I’d go to smoke my pot
Sit there in my pickup truck and pray
Staring at that giant cross
Just reminded me that I was lost
And it just never seemed to point the way
As soon as Jesus turned his back
I find my way across the track
Lookin’ just to score . . . another deal
With my back against that damn eight ball
I didn’t have to think or talk . . . or feel

My life was just an old routine
Every day the same damn thing
I couldn’t even tell I was alive
I tell youThe high cost of livin’Ain’t nothing like the cost of livin’ high

My whole life went through my head
Layin’ in that motel bed
Watchin’ as the cops kicked in the door
I had a job and a piece of land
My sweet wife was my best friend
But I traded that for cocaine and a whore
With my new found sobriety
I’ve got the time to sit and thinkOf all the things I had . . . and threw away
This prison is much colder than
That one that I was locked up in just yesterday

My life is just an old routine
Every day the same damn thing
Hell I can’t even tell if I’m alive
I tell youThe high cost of livin’Ain’t nothing like the cost of livin’ high
I tell youThe high cost of livin’Ain’t nothing like the cost of livin’ high

Jamey Johnson

http://www.cmt.com/videos/unplugged/jamey-johnson/264138/high-cost-of-living.jhtml

gypsy roots uncovered.

thought the other day about wandering. read somewhere about wanderlust. i am that. always have been. been wandering for years, though not without purpose or meaning.

prepared this week to give a talk about connection. the journey of discovery through scripture on the thought of community has been eye opening. oddly enough, as i have prepared, several connections that were made 10-12 years ago or more have been rekindled.

recent connects with people here have been amazing. challenging. real. but that happens everywhere we go. would not have it any other way. these true connections that touch the soul are never broken. time, situations, distance. these things cannot stop that.

so we carry our tent from place to place. sharing life, events, love, journey along the way. leaving bits of ourselves, gathering parts from others, so that our makeup changes just a bit each time.

without fail, we are welcomed, loved and encouraged where ever the path leads. he has always guided, corrected, smacked, and gently persuaded. the bride is more beautiful now than ever. although she may be more stationary than she was meant to be, i love her all the same.

turned 47 today. prolly lived longer than i am going to. insert smile here, for a life full of Grace and pain. love and frustration. fear and loathing. wonder and stupidity.

it is comforting to know that these roots i call my own can be traced so far back in antiquity. sojourner, wanderer, journeyman, freak and zealot, court jester and pot head. junkie and thief. all these have been my title at one time or another. but they have never defined me. neither will a building, or a thought, or a political system. what has defined me has been love. i like that.

roll gypsy role.

jacked up...again

obviously, the following are my own thoughts. if they rattle you, sorry.

over the years, i have had many opportunities to attend conferences, read various books, and be friends with people who ascribe to one common theme...something is wrong and someone, or something is to blame.

words and phrases like God is moving, resurgence, emergent, tradition, worship style, culture, post modern and relevance are just a few of the descriptives that have been used to tell us what the problem may be, how to address it, and how to solve it.

i have heard great men of God speak on these issues. i have been moved, and blessed by wisdom and education that is far beyond me and my dismal attempt at intellect.

there seems to be lots of blame to go around.

the new breed blames the old school for not getting it.
the old school blames the new breed for not respecting it.
leaders at educational institutions admonish their graduates to tackle it, yet they seem so ill equipped to do so. we go to these gatherings to refresh and rekindle what may be sleeping deep within, yet the tide continues to erode away what we cannot quite put our finger on. they continue to encourage us with what is wrong and how to fix it. but classes did not quite cover this issue.

the fact the Jesus is not republican still escapes us, and even though we think he is, all the government help we thought we had did not outlaw abortion, so we blame the new guy. and we seem surprised when a culture turns against us because we are judgemental and display a lack of understanding and grace towards them.

so. i had just about had enough. really. left wing, right wing, i mean wtf?

then yesterday i was in a meeting, a long meeting mind you, and it all became clear.
15 years of asking how, and what had become so heavy, so sad, so tiring, so weak, so typical.

and in 3 min time, i was reminded. not what the problem was, or even how to address the issues of philosophy that could deal with such a daunting task. but why.

i watched a guy weep over why. why she is here. why we do what we do.
in that moment, i was cleansed and all that is wrong gave way to why he came. i was warmed by the mercy and grace that was in his eyes. glory rested on him. almost like Moses when he saw God.

all the books about how to deal with an emerging culture (i have read more than i would like to admit), all the conferences on what the problem is, and what kind of leaders we need to address it (i have wasted many a church dollar on that as an excuse to get away...sorry), never flashed before my eyes or entered my mind.

what came to mind was this..."it is his kindness that leads us to repentance."