conferences upon us again

Thankful season is back.

Time for conversations with families. Time for conversations with students.

Then, when it all wraps up, time with family and friends.

Even though I've never been a fan of November, Thanksgiving is pretty great.

pre-season

I made a "page of summer" calendar on a piece of kraft paper in June. It's something I started a few years ago, to keep track of summer appointments. Ashley made one first this year, which only encouraged me to maintain the tradition. Katherine noticed today that it ended at August 15th and excitedly turned it over to update my adventure agenda.

"There's nothing on the back," she said with sadness in her voice, "Does this mean summer is over?"

Even better.

The pre-season begins tomorrow.

The office is open. If PowerSchool works, I can call all of the ASB officers that forgot to leave me contact info for our first official meeting. I have the latest version of the cross-country schedule, so it's time to really turn up my personal workouts and leave "the pit" to the professionals now.

Here's one glimpse of the final adventure of a spectacular off-season:

Megan and I attempted to reprise our 2013 trek to Sahale Arm. True to form, we didn't make it this time, either. (A kind ranger mentioned there could be thunderstorms which triggered different responses between my risk management and Megan's.) It's fitting, though, to conclude a summer that lived up to all of my expectations without matching any of my plans...

"Understanding is the reward given by faith. Do not try to understand in order to believe, but believe in order to understand." -St. Augustine

when it doesn't rain in april

The flowers are blooming more than ever before. Gifts from neighbors last spring, both the front and back yards are turning quickly into strawberry farms. A six foot tall pink hollyhock guards the front corner. Blue bachelors buttons envelop the driveway. Cosmos of every color line the rock wall. And the roses...

Life is fast. Love is furious. Time runs deeply here.

There's a giant pit in the yard.

And there's a fuel oil tank stuck in the pit, still.

This is what happens when it doesn't rain in April, or much in May. There's time to rest: June.

new things

A year ago, spiders could crawl straight into the house through our old basement windows. The only heat came from our Walmart space heaters. The pipes leaked and left red spots on our dinner plates. The yard had four boxes of dirt, three new fruit trees, and some sunflower seeds.

Today, I was up to my knees in the dirt that covers the fuel tank awaiting liberation. The air smelled uniquely spring-like.

That's when I realized: this little house is newer than I thought.

It's the beauty of Spring, too. The hope that Easter screamed. God makes all things new. Even dirt (especially dirt) gives way to beautiful life.

la luz se fue

The power's not supposed to brown down in Bremerton. But it does in my house.

So, here I am frustrated that no one else on the block has to deal with the third-world issues in my little yellow Faraday cage. My heart crusted over, far removed from passport stamps. I grab a glass of coffee from the fridge to calm down.

Lord, how is my heart so distant from the margins?

forsythia and ditches

The forsythia began blooming in February. Confident and yellow. Even though it's freezing.

The pipes in my yard might freeze, too, on account of the ditches.

Spring is a season for change. A time to regain perspective before Easter. A time to get ready. And the ditches are ready, the forsythia, too.

how we know we're winning

Tonight at church, a few kids shared parts of their stories that cement my claim that the Church is thriving on earth.

The third through sixth grade group asked if we could please read the Bible out loud. Five of the kids who brought Bibles asked to read the story of the Greatest Commandment themselves. One fourth grader insisted that she would only read a red verse, "because those are the ones Jesus said."

Then, when the big kids switched stations to listen to a Bible story with our Kid's Pastor, I got to lead group for the Kinder-second graders. We talked about things we love and Valentine's Day before reciting the big idea: "I will love God and love others." We played a game of "what do you love more", which in other circumstances would be "would you rather." I asked the kids if they loved Saturday or Sunday more:

"Saturday," one kid yelled, "because Saturday nights are dinners at church!"

Saturday nights at church are always crazy.

But tonight, tonight felt like winning. Kids getting the Gospel. Kids loving the Bible. Kids embracing community.

This is how hope wins!

This is how the Gospel is Good News to change the world forever.

shame and the Super Bowl

I am not defined by my shame.

That was the declaration, the theme, of today's sermon. Further proclaimed throughout the day, men transformed by grace declared their freedom in Christ at a recovery celebration. The Gospel wins. It changes everything. The Gospel literally changes the rules of sin and death.

While I'm sad that the Seahawks lost the superbowl in the final 20 seconds of the game, there are such larger gains of today. Gospel, beautiful Gospel. Transformation. Freedom. Victory.

I'll wear my "#beatnewengland" shirt ironically now, but steeped with the memories of a beautiful day of community in Christ. 

A few years ago we did a series at church about grace. The title was something about "lean in to the awkward moments." Praise God, the lesson stuck. Truth wins out when there's time to show grace. 

snapshot

Today.


Today deserves a few sentences to remember it by. It rained, of course, but that's not why it's memorable.
Vision cast. Intentional community. These are beautiful reasons to remember how the Gospel changes everything. And discovered time to read another book of Les Miserables.
Serving as a team. Saturdays are for church now, somehow. Forty kids on a room with a broken projector. Covered with children who ate too much pizza at the community dinner, I want to remember this forever. Offshore becoming the church.
Community takes work. Awkward sometimes, but work. Now full of horchata from the Winco, Hannah and I are waiting for SNL to start.
Today, all of today, is a snapshot of the Gospel invading the city I love. In a month, in a year,I look forward to revisiting this moment with retrospect.

resolutions, predictably

In order to settle on the resolution for 2015, I started with two prohibitions:

1) No more facebook.

2) No alcohol this year.

Two days in, I'm trying to observe which prohibition is more difficult. Yesterday I climbed a mountain with friends, so both were easy. Perhaps I should resolve to climb mountains each day...

Seriously, though, I'm still sorting out the true resolution of 2015. I know it has to do with authenticity and community. Both prohibitions are tied to social fabrics of young adult life, but I hope to strengthen relationships in spite of fasting this year.

Tonight I went to a brewery with my roommate and some of her friends. They suggested I take up instagram for 2015. I think "intentional, authentic community" has more potential to change the corner of the world around me. But... what does that look like?

We have 362 more days to find out.