Requiem

I’m sick and I think my head is about to explode. Oh dear. I cannot wait to drug myself up and sleep for hours after writing this.

I was sitting in my theories class today, quite bitter and upset at how much I don’t care about the book we are reading, when this question popped into my head: “What am I working towards?”

It’s a valid question too, because here I am, a twenty-year-old college student trying to earn a couple degrees to go out into the world and do what? Become a pastor? Work for a non-profit organization? Evangelize on the streets of Seattle and sleep in a homeless shelter for a couple years? Travel across the nation or even world and pick up life on a completely different pace than what I’m currently living? Pastor Richard spoke yesterday about how, “We don’t get to choose our role in the story; instead the role is given to us.” And that role we are given, well, I may not even know what it is until the moment it’s thrust upon me. Actually, no, that’s not true. Our role isn’t defined by a single moment or event, or even a grand decision that may alter the rest of our life – our role is handed out daily, and that’s all we should be prepping for. I was talking with Sarah about what life’s going to look like post-SPU, and we both have no idea what we’re doing. Yeah, there are small ambitions here and there, but when it comes down to it, there’s not much I’m eagerly anticipating to pursue.

I think that’s all right, though. God’s been faithful in opening up a variety of doors as the years go by, some of which I initially regret but grow to love; others I have high expectations for but later understand it wasn’t what I quite thought it would be. Either way, I’m going in a direction that I can faithfully say is good in the eyes of the Lord, and it’s simply my goal to make the most out of what each day has to offer. I’ve decided to start praying for each individual event in my day when I wake up. That way I can stay focused on what needs to get done, but also so that I can find joy in each individual moment as those are the tasks God’s called me to perform for the day. And I pray that I may do them well.

When I leave SPU the tagalong name of “Chris Kyle” is hastily going to die, I’ve come to realize. It’s been a process, but for so long my name was the identity I’ve sought to build up solely for the prestige and power I may receive from it. I’m sure it came to the point where it’s where I found my worth, and if it was threatened in any way I would become defensive and haughty in trying to save it. But what about now?
Keuss mentioned today about the Gerasene Demoniac found in Mark 5. In here we have this demon possessed man literally destroying his own body because of the evil spirits that dwell within him. There is an affliction so great that he cannot say his own name, but only that of “legion.” He can’t muster up the truth of his identity because he’s lost it completely and doesn’t know how to reclaim who he really is. And then we have Jesus, who shows up and restores this man’s name by casting out the demons that have plagued him so by sending them into a herd of swine. Afterwards, the man asks if he might accompany Jesus, but He responds, “Go home to your people and report to them what great things the Lord has done for you, and how He had mercy on you.” (Mark 5.19) Jesus provided this man with his true identity, the one that God gave to him; not the one his culture and community had so uncaringly given. However, what’s interesting is that Jesus says no to the man on him physically accompanying Him on His journey. Instead the man is asked to go home and preach the wonders of what Christ has done. Christ says, “Hey, this role you want isn’t in the story. Here is your new role, your new name, your new identity. Take it and proclaim the truth of the Lord.”

I believe I’m at this point where I’m on the verge of reclaiming my new name in Christ. This honor of VPM and the reputation that comes with the name I’ve built is becoming more and more foreign to me as the days linger on. How much do they matter anyway, you know? Especially in comparison to the Name that I should be representing! I just wonder where God is going to send me to preach this glorious Name, and how much of it depends upon my own ability to grasp the name that God first blessed me with.

So I must ask myself: “Am I going to delight in the fruit my own pride, or will I assume the role of a ‘man of whom the world is not worthy… having gained approval through faith, and having not received what was promised, because God had provided something better.’” (Heb. 11.38-39)

I think it all comes down to faith. To be triumphant in faith. We can trust in our own prerogatives and successes, but how does that separate us from being any different from the rest of the world? Are those the triumphs of faith Christ has called us to? I don’t think so. I think it’s when you forsake everything of selfish ambition and say, “Christ, I trust You, and I’m ready to finally pursue an adventure far greater than myself.”

Relinquish yourself of autonomy and finally give up your crutch.

God doesn’t call anyone to mediocrity

You’re worth more than you think.

Vanilla Twilight

I experienced the swift draft of fear today. It was curious, rare, and pleasant.

The guy I sat next to on the plane had a gaping, open wound on his left elbow, and when putting my bag away I brushed up against it and saw my arm covered in blood. Thanks, Boise.

I’m listening to a song from a video game soundtrack I got over the weekend. It’s probably one of the greatest ambient, instrumental songs I’ve ever heard. Chrono Cross – “Faraway Promise”

I’ve come to learn that my grandpa is the root of my recklessness. When he was sixteen he took 10 hours of flying lessons and then decided he was good enough to go out on his own. He scoped out various places in Boise for a cheap plane and found a condemned on meaning it was too crappy to fly, so the feds punctured holes in the wings to prevent anyone from taking it out. My grandpa bought it for 400 bucks, put some adhesive tape over the holes, and took the plane to flight. A couple years later, after a drunken party during St. Patties Day, he was flying and fell asleep only to awake with hardly any gas left and no idea where he was in the air. He looked for the nearest place to land, found a local highway, landed the sucker, and then pulled her up to a gas station to fill up. True story, I promise.

It’s 83.6 degrees in my apartment right now. How the crap am I supposed to fall asleep to this?

John 16:33 – “”These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.” I pray you find strength in it as well.

Last night my brother and I pulled out his bed mattress into the middle of the living room, got our blankets, and fell asleep watching a movie at 2AM. It’s tradition.

I spent my plane rides today listening to the last two hours of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on tape. I started at the chapter where Harry walks into the forest ready to give himself up for the sake of the wizarding world and his beloved friends. I cried, like usual, except this time it was in an airport terminal. I still have 20 minutes left and will finish up the grand story shortly after I post this.

Dumbledore reaffirmed an epiphany he provided me with 6 months back, which ultimately led to me running for VPM. I’ll tell the story another day, but it’s given me hope for this year’s ministry.

I downloaded the 6th Harry Potter movie while at home this weekend. Now, some of you may condemn me for doing so, but know that my mom will buy it when it comes out on video, which means that I technically own it, which means that I’m not stealing. Right? At least that’s my justification for it. In the meantime, I’m going to watch it this weekend and it’s going to be glorious.

I stole a jar of peanut butter from my mom’s house because I was too cheap to buy it here. Hope you don’t mind, mother.

Checkmarks

Nothing beats waking up in the private of your own room, having nothing on the agenda other than being awesome with your little brother, and being able to write, listen to music, and lie in bed knowing that at any moment you can get up, open the loaded fridge, and eat whatever the crap you want.

Yesterday morning was quite the trip as I woke up at 4:30, showered up, finished packing, and hit the road a little before 5. I made a reservation the previous night at some cheap car parking place so that I could stash my car for a couple days while visiting in Boise. My first adventure was driving down Aurora to the airport for the first time in my life, and whenever I drive somewhere for the first time, I inevitably get lost. Surely enough, I found myself stranded in the middle of SeaTac (it’s actually a city I’ve come to learn) where everything is still dark, and not a soul is wandering the streets. Oddly enough, there was hardly any noise as well, but I figure that to be because I was much farther from the airport than formerly thought. I guess I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere, and it should be noted that whenever I fly I like to see how much I can push the limit on making it to the terminal in just enough time to walk onto the plane the moment I pass through security. I’ve never actually done it yet, but there was hope. However, I was supposed to board my plane in 40 minutes, and I still had no idea where to park my car, so began to worry… just a little. Nick had been gracious enough to make me a roadtrip CD for when I was going to drive, but seeing how that didn’t work out I only got to hear part of it on my drive to the airport. But how grand and soothing it was as the Jonas Brothers screeched their whiney and pre-pubescent voices into my ear, which gave me just enough hope to carry on in my struggle to find my destination. Not a moment after their song ended I arrived on sight, drove around a bit curious as what to do next, and parked my car in the middle of the street. I walked into the office, which had one light that was on the verge of dying, giving the room that sort of eerie look you see in jacked up horror films. I was in some weird adventure mood, though, so I stumbled around looking for somebody to talk to, all the while looking at the clock knowing that I needed to check in pronto because boarding was now in half an hour. Hmm…

Eventually a guy wearing a turban showed up and started talking to me in a heavy accent that made little sense. We fumbled through paying for the weekend, I handed over my key, and then he walked off without saying a word. Confused, I went to my car to move it to a parking spot, and then realized I had given away the only key I had. Dang it. Sitting there for a second I remembered my dad putting a spare underneath the car over two years ago, but the odds of it still being there were next to none. Realizing the predicament of my situation I had no other choice but to check, so I get on my knees, reach under the car, and the first thing I touch is the key box. What fortune! I manage it open, see the endearing treasure, and start my car. I immediately hear a knock on my window and it’s the park owner saying I can’t park my car, he has to. Dang, so much for executing my sexy plan on survival. I took this time to ask him when the shuttle to take me to the airport came, and he said I just missed it and would have to wait another 10-15 minutes. Staring at him blankly I realized this would take some crazy luck to make my flight, so I grabbed my bags from the backseat, walked back to the front of the office, sat in a surprisingly comfy chair, and said, “Bring the pain!”

When the shuttle finally arrived we had to wait for another person to fill our paperwork who had shown up a minute before the shuttle, which tested my patience, but caused me to laugh as well. I’ve come to learn that whenever I find a situation overwhelmingly ridiculous I can do nothing but laugh because that’s how I vent my emotion of frustration towards the stupidity of whatever party is deserving. Most of this laughter was at myself though, because coming here was more a testament to my frugality than wanting of security and comfort, which in the end can often screw me over. But we made it on our way, and when we got to the airport I had 5 minutes before boarding, which means I had 5 minutes to get my bag checked in so that it could make it to the plane before liftoff. Going into crunch time mode I scoped out which line looked best, but they were all equally busy with about 3-4 people waiting, so I sighed, choose the line to the far left, and waited. By the grace of God, the moment I stood in line the people in front of me said, “Oh, sorry, we were just waiting for somebody but aren’t actually in line. You can just go in front of us.” BOOM! Next thing I know I was talking to the check-in guy who informed me that the new policy charges $15 a bag to regular customers. Remembering what the father told me about him being an MVP member because of the company he works for, I decided to pull that card out by saying I had MVP status, and surely enough it worked, making this trip even cheaper than expected. Bag check-in price: $0. Bag check-in time: 5:59AM

I made my way through security, headed to my gate, and right when I showed up they were on the intercom saying they were going to start boarding all MVP and Gold members; so I walked up, handed over my ticked, and made history as I was the first person to board the plane. Doesn’t get better than that.

I’ll write more about being home and hanging with the family later, but for now I’ve got to go eat some cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven. They’re my brother’s specialty.

Oh My God

I’ve come to figure that stories seem to be the breaker of division and the catalyst to solidifying relationships. They draw attention, allow for listeners, create bonds, and set up for another moment of continuance in life’s grand story. They spark imagination, give advice, sever insecurities, and call for repentance.

No wonder Jesus spoke through parables.

At the shelter stories are created day by day, and I only get to collect a few, but of the ones I had the honor of hearing, I’ve decided I’d like to share.

Frankie was a white ol’ chap living in Mexico with his wife and kids for a couple years as he owned a coffee shop and did whatever he could to make their lives comfortable. Unfortunately, and by knowing him now this seems like a stretch to believe, he became addicted to heroin, which resulted in the loss of his family and home. He wound up here, in Seattle, and entered the rehabilitation program so that he may one day go back home to regain and renew his life. In order to be admitted though, one has to go through a 30-day isolation treatment from the outside world in which they cannot speak to anybody, but must stay within a block of the shelter under strict supervision. Once this is done, they go through the program, which takes about 3 months (I had always figured I’d be longer), and once they’re clean, they’re free to carry on with life. It’s been 5 months and Frankie is still here. However, it’s not because of failing the treatment, but so that he knows he’ll never revert to his old lifestyle. He decided it would be best to stay here for a year to eliminate any possibility of going back to drugs, all so that he never loses his family again. He’s assumed the role of chapel aid as Christ has entered his life, and as we were talking yesterday he was adamant in making sure that he’d never said or done anything offensive towards me since I started working here. Although I said “No, you’ve been gold, buddy “ he still sought repentance and stumbled out the door still locked to my eyes. I can only do my best in describing his mannerisms to better paint you a picture of who this guy is, but to receive full understanding you’d have to meet him. I think he’s got some sort of speech impediment, which sometimes jumbles his words; he has tattoos all over his left arm; his hair reminds me of the prince in Beauty and the Beast after the transformation; he wears the same clothes every day (untucked green dress shirt, tie, and khaki pants); is about 6.2 with some muscley girth; but his most defining quality is his peaceful, loving face that tells you there’s more hope in this world that you previously perceived. How great a gift he has in that you are filled with delight upon the luxury of being in his presence.

And I don’t believe this gift to be exclusive; so I wonder, what do I need to change in life to become one who inspires hope to those who are looking; who understands my need for repentance before sinning; and who prepares himself for excellence before making that last stretch to the place we call Home?

Brian was also a heroin addict, but started while in high school and dropped out, spent years and jail, and continued to repeat the cycle for the next 10+ years. Each time his mom would bail him out, but once he got out at the age of 27 she finally said no, you need to figure things out before I let you back into the home. Surprised and discouraged, he moved from Lynnwood to Seattle and spent his first week sleeping outside of 2nd Ave. Eventually swallowing his pride, he bowed his head and signed up for a mat at UGM, ate some meals, attended chapel, and spent his first night in the shelter. The next day he signed up for the rehabilitation program, graduated, attained his GED, and is finishing up classes before applying for a job outside of the shelter to start the next chapter of his life. He gets two nights off a week, Thursdays and Fridays now, and usually takes a bus up to Lynnwood to hang out with his mother. She’s the only person in the family who will talk to him; who will give him the time of day despite his past with drugs and alcohol. His siblings don’t associate themselves and he and his dad had their first conversation in over a year just last week.

So what is Brian’s inspiration and joy of the week? Knowing that come his days off he gets to go home and see a movie with his mom. Simple as that. That he gets to see a freakin movie with his mother, the last person who loves and hasn’t given up hope on him. What a beautiful and heartbreaking joy! You know what tears me up even more, though? The fact that him telling me his story brought him just as much joy because somebody actually cared enough to ask him how he was doing.

This reopened my eyes to how lonely the world is, and that the simple pleasures of life we all take for granted, such as friendship, conversation, and love, are none other than driving forces that give a person the basic will to keep living. Where would Brian be if he didn’t have the face of his mother as something to hold onto as he was sleeping outside and then recovering in rehab? Who knows, and with the deprivation of love this world is suffering from, I think the question society currently asks is, “Who cares?”

When I think of this I’ve overwhelmed with how great an endeavor Christ has left us with, or better, has called us to. Being a light to the world no longer means sacrificing a couple hours of your week to care for the destitute, whether it be a friend or homeless guy, but has been transcended to the point where being a Light To The World is an all consuming conviction that travels with you to the ends of the earth. I pray that we even have the ability and strength to still see that calling amidst our travels and don’t lose sight of the mission we have each been bestowed.

As Christians we understand, to the best of our ability, our love and worth in Christ, yet we still seek that affirmation from other people. However, and I’m not sure if this is hopeful wishing or a fortunate truth, this affirmation from other people may be none other than Christ Himself that dwells within us. If this is true then we have a gift and responsibility to give to the world, and it starts with the person right next door. You hear about people in the dorm or at school who are surrounded by “community” yet still suffer from depression and loneliness and ask, “How is that possible? There are so many people live here, how can they actually feel alone?” Well, good sir, when was the last time you sought that person out to see how they were doing? Real community goes farther than the casual hello and the mere acquaintance.

Lord, I pray we may see others not obligations but as beings of affection and merit. Forgive us our unwillingness to commit and convict us of missed opportunity. Cleanse our pride and take our hearts; give us the wisdom to see our days not as a time of personal devotion, but as moments to respond to the promise and gift you have given us.

“When the apostles returned, they reported to Jesus what they had done. Then he took them with him and they withdrew by themselves to a town called Bethsaida, but the crowds learned about it and followed him. He welcomed them and spoke to them about the kingdom of God, and healed those who needed healing.” – Luke 9.10-11

Although we may be tired, give us the vitality to endure.

Today I experienced generosity beyond my expectation for the weekend. When I went to work this morning the father called me into his office and said that he had some free airlines miles and wondered if I’d like them to fly home for free this weekend instead of having to suffer through 16 hours of driving to and fro. Reluctant to take such a gift I first declined, but after further considering accepted and now I have a ticket to Boise for tomorrow morning. They said it’s their pleasure to give me such a blessing because of my work for the summer, but I can’t help but feel like I’m the one being given far more than I deserve. Thank you so much, God, for I am not worthy.

So here I am. A kid who’s counted his blessings, seen how much he’s been given, and excited to give back sevenfold what he’s received in the past week. I praise God for showing me just how tangible His presence and love are, and beg that I may do the same for my brother as this weekend carries one. God is good, my friends, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

“The plans of the heart belong to man,
But the answer of the tongue is from the LORD.
All the ways of a man are clean in his own sight,
But the LORD weighs the motives.
Commit your works to the LORD
And your plans will be established.”

- Proverbs 16.1-3

The Incomprehensible Sleep

Our lives up to this point have lead to this
A garden in the dark, a deadly kiss (Matthew 36:47-49)
If you want to follow me
We’ll walk into suffering
It’s this act that will distinguish us

My disciples, those I’ve chosen (John 15:16)
Don’t listen to the sirens
Don’t you know that I would never lead you astray
Tie yourself to the mast and cover your ears with wax and
Keep your gaze on me, for God’s sake stay awake

Sometimes you have to close your eyes to see.
Sometimes to walk you have to get down on your knees.
All I ask is that you pray
All I ask is that you stay awake
But your dreams betray me

My disciples, those I’ve chosen
Don’t listen to the sirens
Don’t you know that I would never lead you astray
Tie yourself to the mast and cover your ears with wax and
Keep your gaze on me, for God’s sake stay awake

Wake up.

Are you resting? Are you still asleep?

Wake Up, O Sleeper (Ephesians 5:14)
Wake Up and say a prayer
Wake Up, O Sleeper
Are you my betrayer?
Wake up, O Sleeper
Wake up, O Sleeper
Incomprehensible, Incomprehensible

Rest

Lord.

I long to put my passion in a bottle.

Just to break it at your feet.

Me and the Moon

I just bought Nevertheless’ new album, “In the Making…” and I’ve already got a handful of songs that are going to be caught within my infamous realm of the repeat option. Listen to this sexy melody:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aumJPzeRrSI

Also, listen to this sweet action piano and cello combo to form a special, little somethin’ somethin’. And Sarah, ignore the fact that it’s Taylor Swift and just listen:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0v3d6SFcDys&feature=related

I met with Bob Zurinsky today, who’s going to be my VPM advisor for the upcoming year. He’s such a stud and it’s going to be wicked awesome working with him to form the greatest coalition of ministries SPU has ever seen! The meeting got me super pumped for the position next year and I can’t wait to get everything rolling as soon as everybody is back in town. Yes yes yes!

I also spent about 5 hours in the office today, which made me feel somewhat hardcore, but it was boring as crap half the time due to monotonous work and sending more emails than I’d like to remember. But I prevailed and managed to play outside for a couple hours before carrying on with my evening. I’d also like to point out that today was my first time eating chocolate in 6 days. This, ladies and gentlemen, is a new record, and as fate would have it, after I finished my fantabulous treat, I got a stomach ache about half an hour later. Never in my wildest dreams would I have dreamed of my body rejecting sugar. Perhaps this is the dawning of a new age… Oh dear.

Lastly, it’s official, I’m going to Boise next weekend to hang out with my brother because he contracted mono in the most terrible of circumstances. In two days he is supposed to leave for a short-term mission trip to Honduras with my mom and our church but has now been denied the opportunity because of some beezy he shared a drink with. About a month ago he asked a girl if he could drink some of her lemonade, she thoughtfully said yes, and they thought nothing more of the moment of sharing. Right as my brother was about to leave the house the girl stopped him and said, “Garrett, I forgot to tell you, I have mono!” Ugh, girls… Loads of trouble, if you ask me. So instead of going on the mission he’s going to be at home, sick, along with a broken hand he received about a month back as well, leaving me with one option: Head home and give this kid the best weekend of all time! I’m not sure what we’re going to do, but I know it’s going to consist of eating pounds upon pounds of peach rings from Winco, for cheap. It will be glorious.

Truth is a Whisper

I was talking with my friend, Michael, who’s in China right now exploring the lands in which he was born, all the while doing ministry where he can. It’s pretty great too, because he’s been sending periodic emails of humor and joy that always have me laughing at the great time he’s having. He was telling me about how he ate about twenty sticks of meat over a fire the other day, and the selection ranged anywhere from lamb to kiwi to gizzards. I was quite grossed out at the gizzards simply because that’s disgusting and you don’t eat organs unless it’s absolutely necessary. However, I speak of all this because his email reminded me of something I saw today, which most likely isn’t a good idea to make public, but I find it funny right now (it’s about 2AM), so I’ll just throw it out there.

I was driving from work today and saw a dead kitten in the road. Initially, I thought to myself, “Dang, I wonder how long that thing got to live. Kittens certainly aren’t the most common of animals you find in roadkill form.” As I continued to ponder on this idea my mind continued to flow and I soon figured, “Hmm… I wonder how hardcore it would be if I scooped up that kitten, skinned it, and ate what meat was left in a stew solely for the purpose of saying I’d eaten kitten roadkill?” I decided against the idea because 1) I’d die and 2) There’s probably only a handful of people who would fully understand just how grand this endeavor was, and of those people, odds are I haven’t met them yet. So I’ll hold off until I find a homie who’s just as crazy.

UGM keeps getting crazier and crazier as the days go on. I’m learning so much about Seattle’s homelessness situation and how it compares to other cities, and it turns out that Seattle’s issues are pathetically miniscule to those on the east coast. Over here we have the occasion mental illness patient, drunkard, druggie, unsuspecting victim to either the economy or a relationship pitfall, or just the apathetic and lazy person. The men who walk in that I’ve talked to have a plethora of expressions and responses where one will give you a cheerful wave, another a blank stare, and then the unfortunate somber gentleman who steps up to the window saying in a disheartened tone, “I… I don’t know what to do. This is my first time here and I’m not sure where to go. Can… can you help me?” They were either just kicked out of their house because of marital issues, evicted from their homes because of unemployment and lack of income, or their life took some other sudden dive that landed them unexpectedly at this shelter. These people are never in despair for long, though.

(Crap, I guess I fell asleep writing this. I just woke up and am currently eating chocolatey, sweetened rice cereal, also known as COCOA KRISPIES!!! Yes sir.)

I say these people are quickly lifted from their hopeless mood because there’s another aspect to homelessness that few people see or even understand if they haven’t witnessed it for themselves. The homeless have formed a kind of sub-community, which can be clearly seen on the streets if you look hard enough, but is definitely prevalent within the shelter. I mentioned earlier in the month that the homeless don’t have relationships, at least ones like we do where somebody, i.e. family or friends, can take care of us if something happens, and that’s a hefty contributing reason to why they’re on the streets. I still believe this, but it’s interesting to see how that lack of relationship within their lives before homelessness can so drastically change the moment they are vulnerable, desperate for love, and seeking to survive amongst hundreds of others who are trying to figure the same thing out. It’s as if they’re free from the middle-class hell that so many of us reside in where life is monotonous, broken of the community that Christ has really called us to, and filled with idols that all of us fail to recognize or address. The homeless have lost their “lives”, at least from our perspective, but in turn have found such a community, though imperfect yet still fulfilling, that many of us may never experience even within the Church.

For example, all the Mexicans that come from Spanish chapel sleep in the dayroom of the mission and soon after they’ve set up their mats and everything for the night they slowly make their way to the front desk to buy a sack lunch. However, there have been times where some either don’t have the change or enough money to buy a lunch, so one guy will step up and buy for the lot of them because he’s the one who has the means of doing so for the night. On Urban Plunge we were at Pike Place early one Saturday morning talking with a guy who’d slept outside despite it raining and night. Everything he owned was soaked and laid out on a table to dry. Soon after our conversation some random, fairly well dressed man walks up, talks to our new friend, and they begin gathering up all the stuff and soon walk away. We don’t think much of it until we are eating at a shelter that evening when we run into the well dressed man again who just so happens to be sitting in the same pew as us during chapel. We ask him what he’s doing here, he explains that he his homeless, which then prompts us to ask what he was doing with the guy that was soaking earlier in the morning. It turns out they’d never met but the well dressed guy saw our soaking friend, knew he could provide help in taking him to a place to get dry, and that was that. What’s even more beautiful is that his guy in the pew continues to talk to us and then asks if he can take a picture. We say, sure, if you’d like, in which he pulls out a disposable camera, snaps the shot, and says these words that I’m sure I’ll never forget, “True friends.”

Sadly many of them were forced into submission of surrendering and redirecting their lives, and from this I don’t know how many was because God has greater plans for them or if it’s due to their own brokenness, but I’m going to stand by the fact that the love and support they provide for each other often exceeds that in which we are giving. This whole internship reminds me of those high school short term mission trips where you go to help the people in another country but end up being the subject that gets ministered to. I only pray I’m showing as much Jesus to these people as they are to me.

I’m going to see if I can turn this volunteer experience into a full blown ministry on campus via Urban Involvement, so if you’re interested just say the word. I know 5 people who want to pursue this in the upcoming year, but if we could get at least five more I’m sure we’d be recognized as a legitimate ministry. UGM needs the help too, especially during the school year. You’ll love every minute of it too, I promise.

The Boys of Summer

Things learned in Portland this past weekend:

1. Happy Valley truly is the greatest place on earth. Jake, I finally understand why you never want to go back to school after breaks.
2. When hiking, Sarah does this sort of “scamper” up the hill when trying to pass people. Jake and I mock and laugh.
3. I love M&Ms a lot more than I thought. So much that greed and screeching overcomes me when they are about to be taken away. My immaturity and imperfection shined brightest at that moment. Shame.
4. I am the king of Bocce Ball. Bring it on, haters.
5. I am a tenor. I play the piano in A minor. Sarah can hardly keep up with my mind blowing key changes.
6. Emma Watson is on the verge of a comeback and will be coming to college in the states. Jake guesses it will be Brown University. I’m still hoping for SPU or UW…
7. On the other side of things, Emma Grace is the cutest little four-year-old ever, and will grow up to break more hearts than Jake and me combined during freshman year. Sorry, Sarah, just had to throw that out there…
8. One of my new life goals is to pee of Multnomah Falls. Or to base jump off it. Or both. At the same time.
9. Virgin margaritas being consumed by the gallon amidst a group of college Christians who think it cool to pretend it’s real alcohol is mildly embarrassing yet absolutely hilarious. Or maybe it’s just Megan who finds this funny.
10. Coming off sugar highs suck. My intake is usually at a constant level throughout the day but on Saturday I consumed far too much. In fact, it’s come to the point where I think I have a problem. Time to fast.
11. Going to bed on a Friday night at 12:30 is cool when you know you’re cool. It’s considered lame by those striving to be cool. Jake and I comfortably went to bed at 12:30 with no regrets or questions of our awesomeness. Sarah probably stayed away just to pack the stats and build self esteem.
12. Don’t touch bricks that are sitting in a fire. You’ll burn your thumb.
13. Voodoo doughnuts = heart attack and completion of my soul.
14. Don’t speed in worker zones. It’ll be the death of your pocketbook. Unless you lead a “charmed” life, of course.
15. Friendship is a blessing beyond measure.