a day at work

We had already loaded the truck with the materials we needed to spend the day working on the houses. The tools rattled around as the truck made its way down the freeway. It took about a half hour or so to get to the job site. We spoke of the beautiful sunrise as it fought to rise above the mountains in the east. The clouds were being painted a spectrum of pastel colors as it rose to push the darkness away.

Once at the job site we surveyed the houses and then started laying out the material to get ready for our day of work. Conversation ended at that point. I had put in my ear plugs as did my boss to guard our ears from the loud sounds that construction sites make. Hours passed and we made our way though each house and on to the next one. We hadn't spoken much at all during the course of the day. He was busy working on his tasks and I at mine. As we finished up and started loading the truck, I smiled at the realization that my day working with my boss is much like my relationship with the God of this universe.

I may not spend the entire day in conversation with him, but I know he was right there working on the same goal. The days that are spend in constant conversation with God are awesome, but even the days that are not, seem to be just as amazing as we are working toward building his kingdom. I know his paradigm is becoming mine. It is promised so in Philippians 1:6.

Intersection(s)

He stood elevated above the gathered crowd. Not for the appearance of authority, but for the mere practical reason of allowing his voice to be heard at a greater distance. He was speaking of an event that had just taken place. An event that to this every day effects us all.

There once was a building, built with great care and precision. The architect not only designed the layout, but also how it was to be decorated. Within the inner-most room was the intersection of heaven and earth. There the presence of the divine being dwelt, behind a vale that was not to be breached but once a year.

A little more than a month before he stood talking this crowd, there had been an earthquake. And while earthquakes cause foundations to be tested, this quake broke the very foundation of that inner-most room. The vale had been torn in two, from top to bottom.

He stood elevated above the gathered crowd, speaking of how his paradigm had changed. The intersection of heaven and earth was no longer contained behind a vale in the Temple. It was now freely accessible to all who sought it. As he ended his rooftop speech, he asked "what then shall we do?" He knew that this event required action to be taken.

The intersection of heaven and earth exists. Those who are an intersection of heaven and earth our paradigm has changed and we need to answer Peters question of "what then shall we do?"

My Gethsemane

The piece of concrete is just large enough to sit on as it tries hard not to slide down the Huntington Beach cliffs. It has been blocked off for years by weathered railing that guards the bike trail from the forty foot drop to the sand. It is a place I use to frequent at times such as these. Many times lately, I've pondered making the drive out to that very rock. The lifeguards never seemed to care much at all that I sat staring out at the relentless waves roaring as they rolled toward the shore. I would just sit, listening to the wind blow up the cliffs and drown all the other sounds out. A place where I would be quick to listen and slow to speak.
There is something about having a spot like that. A spot where I could rest in the shadow of his wing. A spot where there is a stillness. A spot that no one knows to look for me except him. It is my Gethsemane.
Find your Matthew 6:6 spot.

Construction Begins

Walking through a construction site there is an echo of a voice calling to everyone. There are a half dozen guys standing around framing houses with an uncanny expertise of the hammer. Just a few houses down, concrete is being poured with such speed and precision. The finish guys are making a mess in the houses, but adding the details to call it a finished house after the final sweep is made. The smell of dirt kicked up from the machinery mixes with the potent odor of fresh paint. Hands are at work building something and that is what His paradigm is about.

The voice heard as an echo is calling you and me both to start building. We need not have the mastery of swinging a hammer. We need not know how to set up the electric panel to power our project. The foundation has already been poured, the houses already erected.

The voice announced many years ago that this kingdom was near. He started the construction, He finished the construction and left it to you and me to invite people to come and live in it.

He talked about that kingdom being available to us here, right now. It's the voice that echo's within the hearts of us all as we see things being built. I hear that echo everyday and say in response the words of Isaiah, "Here am I"

A prayer

I sat and read. I tend to do that quite often at Starbucks, only because the chairs are a bit too high for the low tables at Coffee Bean. I went in today, to finish the book of Daniel, and re-read A.W. Tozer's Knowledge of the Holy. I had read chapters 1-7 of Daniel the day before and was inspired, but today, I struggled to see through the theological debates of the prophecy filling the last few chapters. I ended Daniel in frustration and went on to reading Tozer.

A quote from the preface of the book reads in part: "...we shall think because we believe, not in order that we may believe."
There have been other great authors that have written similar wisdom.
C.S. Lewis said "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else."

When I read scripture, it is hard to look at the world and perceive it in the same way as I did before. There are times when I read and fall face down in awe of a God that loves me still. There are times when I read and have to consult numerous scholars to understand the grandeur of words I have just read. Then there are the times when as I read, I look up to see the people standing in line, sitting and chatting, studying textbooks. Do they know the that the Kingdom is at hand? Are they seeking it? These questions will be answered and I shall aid as a tutor.

I don't want to see the world as I see it, but see it as he who died setting it to rights. I am adopting a paradigm that is so foreign, yet echoes within all I experience.

I pray that when you open your eyes, the words of Matthew 6:33 are the lens you see through. I pray as you hear the alarm clock rudely awake you to start your day, that Matthew 6:33 echoes between your ears. I pray that as you roll from your warm nook under your sheets that your feel Matthew 6:33 take shape in your hands. I pray as you break bread throughout the day, that you remember him broken for you. I pray that as you hear the noise of existence, you hear the echo of his words telling us what this life is all about.

Stare into the fire

Stare into the fire.
The smoke from the fire catches the breeze and blows a billow into his face. He blinks hard as the burn causes them to tear up. He reopens them and see that the wind has blown the smoke off in the other direction. Out in the middle of the desert, the stars shine down in a majestic way. He escapes out to the refuge of the desert once or twice a year to sit below these stars. There is not much to do for the average person, but he enjoys climbing the rocks that seem too perfectly placed for any other purpose. Once his hands are raw from the coarse granite, the desert wild flowers are something to be amazed by each spring when they avail themselves for a few short weeks. Even sitting there long after the sun as descended below the horizon when the coyotes howl off in the distance, the crickets playing their melody all around you, but nowhere to be seen, there is enjoyment.
This is it. A place that has an uncanny feel to it. It may not be what it has, but maybe what it lacks that allows an undeniable voice to be heard as more than an echo.

I cannot describe how beautiful you are. Out here when there are no phones to answer, no people to distract, no business to attend to, I can sit and marvel at the crickets melody. Are they crying out to praise you? Do the rocks I stand on top of, moan for your glory? I sit here in awe of you.
If I only allowed myself to live your message it would be a different world. Break my paradigm and replace it with yours. Here I am, use me to live out the life you've given. Give me the strength to rise, the courage to stand, the humbleness to remember where it came from.
I have fallen short of what you want for me, but yet you still encourage me to follow. I am trying to see myself as you see me, I am trying to see others as you see them.
Your paradigm is becoming mine.

The words screamed but not heard by the ear. No, these words need not be spoken for any to hear. A tear wells up in the corner of my eye, not from the smoke changing direction, but from my heart changing form. I keep staring into the fire and see more than just the wood is being consumed.

Brandon's Paradigm

Brandon's Paradigm

He stood on the stage in front of the youth. The lighting seemed perfect, as if Hollywood itself had hired its best technicians to have him dimly lit as the center of all attention. He stood, his eyes watering, as he held the small half-sheet of paper in his hand. His lips were already quivering before he began to read.

He was twenty-three years old. He had just graduated from college. This was the first summer of the rest of his life. As all of God's messages are, the timing of his teaching was perfectly planned.

As he finished reading, his ears encountered a long silence. The all-too-welcoming darkness in the room hid the somber faces but could not muffle the sound of the audience holding back an onslaught of tears.

Brandon had just read his own obituary. He wrote it that morning as he prepared the last few details of the teaching. His desire was to shock every person in the room with the realization that one day, maybe near or far, someone could be reading their obituary.

“How do you want to be remembered?” he asked and paused silently afterwards. Then he challenged, “Are you living that life right now?”

The music started to play so softly as the stage behind him began to glow from the increasing light. The worship leader sang and closed in prayer, dismissing the youth out into the world. As they readied to leave he asked them to pick up a half-sheet of paper and write their own obituary.

Brandon knew these kids, He had taught some of them for years. He knew their struggles, he saw the lives they lived outside the walls of the Church. He knew that many of them knew the answers to the questions he asked. He watched them sing songs every service, some with their hands held high. He saw them interact with one another. He knew that once these kids left the room and went back out to the ‘real world’ that many would forget the message and just go on living as they saw fit.

Many, I am certain, will never forget the message he gave that night. They will remember how Brandon stood before them, hands trembling while holding a piece of paper, reading the words aloud of an obituary, penned by himself hours before. He knew how he'd be remembered, because he was clearly living the life what was recounted on that paper.

Even more will never forget another man, reading that same obituary five days later to many of the same faces. There was standing room only, as we gathered in that crowded room to mourn his passing.

I received a phone call three days earlier. Brandon had died that morning in a motorcycle accident, less than 36 hours after delivering that message.

At his funeral, there were half-sheets of paper left on each seat. I picked up a sheet and started to read. It said, in part:

His life was characterized by faith, integrity, dependability, self-sacrifice and humility. He rejected passivity, accepted responsibility, led courageously and is experiencing God’s greater reward. He died well and left nothing unfinished.

Brandon wrote this while he was still alive. He had a clear vision of how God wanted him to be remembered and he lived to do so. While, he was never able to be a 'passionate husband' and 'loving father,' as Brandon had written in hope, everyone in that room knew he would be. 

While he is experiencing God’s greater reward, God's reward is something that Brandon thought we could experience today, right now. Brandon believed Jesus, when He spoke of the Kingdom being present now! Brandon had His Paradigm so deeply written on his heart that he lived as he knew he should and challenged others to do the same.