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so much can change in 24 hours, and so much can be uncovered. in just a moment, dreams can be fulfilled, passions fueled and our wildest imaginations can become reality. in just a moment, hearts can break. and we can be left picking up the pieces.
and in just a moment, our lives no longer make as much sense as they once did.
sometimes it takes a moment of heartache to shake lose the paint thats has been crumbling, and allow the failing posts to appear from behind their whitewashed exterior.
i wish it didnt take something harsh to rip away the mask. that i’d be more willing to allow it to drop and deal with the issues at hand, find healing….
but i’m not. i much prefer to run around with a hammer, nails and a paint brush and work fervently to keep the crumbling facade in a state of perpetual well-painted disrepair.
i prefer the masks.
because i’m done with the pain. i’m done dealing with it. surviving around it, pretending its not there. my heart is is like the jalopy you’ve had parked in the garage for years, taking up space in hopes that someday in the future you’ll find someone with the knowledge, skills, time and desire to fix what was broken. and although you’ve tried, you cannot remember the last time it worked, the last time it actually ran.
at some point, you decide that its not worth keeping any longer, that its just easier to start with a clean slate. you’ve got some boxes that could be stored in the garage, if only you had the room. you dont see any value in keeping this old car. it doesnt work and its more rust and holes than metal and paint. so you make a phone call, and have the old heap towed to the dump.
at some point, you decide your heart isnt worth keeping any longer. that its just easier not to feel anything. you’ve got something that resembles a life to live, and the pain that takes your breath away, now just gets in the way of going through those oh-so-important motions. so you make the decision, that love, that loving, just isnt worth it. so you banish your heart to the far comers of your existence. you chose to live as robotic as possible. you stuff those boxes in and around the holes in your heart, and in time, you forget its there.
you dont go out to the garage anymore.
and it’s not until a fierce storm knocks down a tree and damages the roof of the garage that you’re forced to open the doors, and you’re reacquainted with your heart. and you realize again how much of a mess everything is. and how broken everything is. and you dont honestly see how something this broken can be made whole.
so you patch up the garage, close the door, and move on with your life. you go through the motions, hoping that the storms of life will bypass your garage and that you wont have to deal with the brokenness that exists inside of your chest.
we can want that, we can hope and pray and pretend that the storms will pass us by. and if we’re lucky, we’ll live a fair portion of our lives storm free. but inevitably, storms come.
and its in those moments, when we’re forced to confront who we are, who we’ve become, the decisions we’ve made and the clutter we’ve hidden, that we take our biggest steps. that our destinies are written, and rewritten.
it’s in those moments that chapters end, and new chapters begin. that we change. that we find the courage we never had, and the beauty that existed inside of us all along.
and its in those moments, that we make the decisions that set the course for the rest of our lives.
we either patch up the garage, and go about the motions, or we leave the doors open, and begin the painful process of unpacking our hearts. of facing the holes, the rust, the stains and the brokenness. of facing the pain and dealing with it….
even if it means we hurt.
we either continue something that resembles living, or we allow ourselves to be deconstructed, in the hope of one day, finding this thing called life. in the hope of finding it abundantly.
Future of Forestry – Sanctitatis
sometimes i wonder if are allowed stages in our life where we are overwhelmed, when the only thing we can do is cope, to bring us to the place where we begin to understand how much bigger life can be. maybe we need to be shown how small our view of life is, before it can be broken and remade into something that allows us to experience how awe-filled this life is. and maybe the more we allow our views of life to be shaken, the bigger they become.
it has been said that there is no breath sweeter than the first gasping breath of a drowning man. that the air we all take for granted, tasted different, somehow better, to someone who has nearly drowned.
maybe, in a way, we need to have our views of life, our boxes if you will, taken apart piece by piece before we realize how amazing what we have, truly is.
i was out to dinner a few nights ago. a bunch of coworkers and i. and in walked this very attractive young lady. if that had been all i noticed, then it would have been a testament to my vision and to how small it is. i’ll be honest, her physical beauty was the first thing i noticed. but it wasnt the last.
she was in pain. it was evident. it may not have been physical scars, but she was in pain. her eyes told more than her words. and in her own way, spoken through the way she was dressed, she was asking for more attention than she would know what to do with. her view of the world was broken, and she was looking to the world to fill the cracks.
i felt ashamed. that i hadnt seen that first.
and i felt her pain.
and i whispered a prayer.
that she would be found. that true Men, men with the Fathers heart would surround her, and protect her, and help to slowly dismantle her world view. i prayed that friends would envelope her, and love her, and remind her of her value. and most of all, i prayed that her window would be repaired. that her vision would be restored. that those first glimpses of life would be the breath of life to a drowning man. that she’d see the beauty created within her. and that she’d come to the place where she knew, that this beauty, never changes.
and to be honest, i prayed the same. for me.
Fernando Ortega – Be Thou My Vision
high King of heaven
my victory won
may i reach heaven’s joys
oh bright Heavens Sun
heart of my own heart
whatever befalls
still be my vision
oh Ruler of all
i think, if we’re honest with ourselves, we would say we were each left with questions. we would nod our heads and agree that we could each remember a time when those who came before us, who were supposed to build us up, show us the ropes, explain how to work this thing called life, those people, dropped the ball.
i think we were all left with questions.
we’d knock our glasses together, give each other looks that say ‘we understand’ and drink to the fact that we all have life experiences that echo the same questions.
we’d pat shoulders, and give hugs. we’d be there for each other and support each other through the act of simple remembrance. remembering when we first asked these questions, when we first lived through these experiences of not knowing. of waking up every morning and questioning if we have what it takes. if we have what it takes to be the man or woman we want to see staring back at us in the mirror. if we can be successful. if we’re intelligent, smart, handsome or beautiful.
i think we all have our own questions. as much as it’s a shared experience, the questions are very personal. and the ones you may struggle with, i may not. but as diverse, personal and individual the questions are, i believe if we peeled away the layers, if we looked deeper, we would all come to the place where at the heart of the issue, beats one question.
am i worthy?
and the sad thing, is that most of us will live our entire lives avoiding the answers. we’ll live our lives so shallow, drowning in the circumstantial, that the questions will never get faced. we will never allow ourselves to face the pain that those questions left us with.
maybe the question was first given to you by an experience in your childhood. maybe it was a heartbreak in your teen years, or the abandonment of someone close. maybe it was innocence that was stripped away. maybe it was as simple as someone important not taking the time to show you what they were supposed to show you.
however the questions present themselves, if you’re like me, this is the question you’ve realized you’ve been asking all this time. am i worthy? am i worth it?
am i worth the love of a woman?
the love of a Saviour?
will i live my life avoiding the answers? will i whitewash the walls? will i constrain myself to live in shallow tidal pools all the while dreaming of distant shorelines? or will i ask the only question that actually matters?
will i ask to be written into the great story? will i ask to be written into the song of grace? the song that started millenia ago and that is being woven together even today?
inside of that story, the questions that haunt us find their answers. the wounds we carry, find healing. and our scars, become medals. in that story, in that great overarching story written by an Author far beyond our comprehension, we find grace, we find beauty, we find we are beautiful, and we find freedom.
in that story, its not that the question gets answered. it’s that we realize, that it never really mattered.
one sonic society – burn
tonight i am filled with hope. hope for the future. for the life that lies ahead. tonight i am filled with a deeper understanding of what it may take, what it may cost to see those hopes fulfilled.
tonight, i am filled with expectancy.
tonight, i am humbled. humbled to see, in a new light, the beauty of those i am surrounded by. humbled by the grace i have been shown, and humbled to know the work that still needs to be done.
tonight? another chapter begins. and i am thankful. for the mercy, for the love, for the cleansing, for the blood that i have been shown.
and i am thankful.
this weekend is full of memories. there is something about Memorial day weekend that seems to cause moments of more depth, of more story than other weekends. maybe it’s that this weekend heralds the soon arriving summer, or that it is on this weekend we pause and honestly remember. we remember those who fought and those who died, protecting the liberties and freedoms we take so often for granted.
this weekend brings memories of happy times. of camp fires, smores, trips to the lake. and it also brings with it memories that are wholly different. memories not of what did happen, but of what didnt.
memories, seem to be the theme, the subject, the story that is being told right now. i’ve caught myself more this weekend then i have in a long time, remembering. thinking back. and in some ways, looking forward.
thinking back to a time many years ago when life seemed simpler. when friends were closer and when joy was easier. when following this path, when writing this story was easier than it is now.
do i regret the decisions i’ve made between then and now? some of them, yes, absolutely. i think if we’re honest, we would all say we have things we wish we’d done and didnt, or that we did, and would give our right arm to have never done. we’ve all hungered after grace, after forgiveness, even if we didnt know it was what we needed. our stories, if they share any common thread, is that we all made mistakes, we all failed at something. that our memories, our stories of times past aren’t all full of golden moments. that there are dark times in our past, times we wished we could forget.
if anything though, it’s remembering those times, those times that remind us of old scars, memories that still need effort to push beyond, its in those memories that we find the tenacity, the desire, the will, drive and passion to make new memories. its in remembering those who’ve died for our freedoms that we remember we are free. it’s in stopping and letting the memory wash over us that we realize how far we’ve come, how the scars have healed, and in some cases, how far we have to go.
it’s in remembering, that we see our story that has been written. and it’s in remembering, that we see how many blank pages are yet to be written in.
this moment, right now, is a blank page. and how i chose to use it, the words i chose to write on it, are done so with indelible ink. once written, they will never be erased.
and my heart aches, in a good way. for the challenge, for the calling that i hear. to make these next pages count. to show those i love, that they’re loved. to love unconditionally, without fear. to learn what being a son means, and in the process, to discover what it means to be a man.
all we have, all we’re ever truly given, is a blank page and a pen. and the whispered call of the One we call Father, to follow His leading.
so as you sit, as i sit, on this day of Memorial, we should do just that. remember. remember where we’ve come from, and remember those who sacrificed their all in defense of freedom. of the freedom for us to write our own stories. and may we also look forward, to the blank pages.
may we pick up our pens, and write our stories. and may our stories, be worth telling.
Future of Forestry – Close Your Eyes
there are moments when i question. when i honestly wonder if i have what it takes. to become the man i yearn to be. to see the dreams in my heart come to pass in my life. there are moments when i question my own abilities. when i question if i’m good enough. there are moments when i honestly wonder how any woman could fall in love with a man as flawed as i am.
and i am reminded.
that it is in my weakness that He is strong. that this morning was birthed in grace. that He never let go. that i can rest.
that there is hope. for us both.
that the One who is holding me tonight….
that i am His child. no one elses.
i may not be the man i want to be, yet. but i’m closer than i was in January. and i’ll be closer still tomorrow.
Fee – Arms That Hold The Universe
there are moments when i sit and inspiration just comes. the sounds of birds awakening the dawn, the dark, bitter taste of hot coffee, the warmth of the first rays of sun breaking across the land.
and there are moments that i sit and await inspiration. and it’s not there. and i wonder. wonder why i cannot seem to put my heart onto paper. wonder why the yearnings inside of my soul are strangled on their way to my lips. i wonder what life would be like if i threw caution to the wind.
it’s in these moments that i remind myself of the inspiration ive already been given. of the truths i’ve already learned, the truths i lean on. that i serve an amazing God. that just one cup of His mercy covers more sin than i could ever commit. that His love for me is amazing, beyond comprehension. that He is the God who created life. and if He created life, then He also created the art of living it. and its in these moments that i recommit myself to following Him.
and i ask to see through His eyes. to see things as He sees them. to have my heart break when His breaks. to hear His heartbeat, to become a son. to know His love as deeply as i possibly can. and to love as He does.
i can look outside of myself for the inspiration i need each day, or i can look to the one who gave grace, who’s Son paid the ultimate price so i could be adopted. i can look for inspiration from those around me, and find myself unsatisfied, or i can look to the one who Created the dreams in my heart.
i could look anywhere i wanted to for inspiration. and because of my own fears, my father issues and my insecurities, i do. i do, but i shouldnt. because the one who Created life, is calling for me to live life. to throw caution to the wind and follow Him as He leads. to become a character in the amazing story that He wants to tell through my life.
when i look to Him, i realize i dont need to be inspired, i need to follow. to drop the burdens i carry and simply follow.
when i look to Him, life may not make sense, but i know i have hope.
what is it about performance that scares so many of us? that keep us from pursuing our dreams or following what we love? have we bought into the lie that if we cannot be the best at whatever it is we want to try, that we shouldnt try it? why is it that we, that i believe that if i cant nail it on the first try, it’s not worth trying?
what is it about failure that we fear? that i fear?
why can i not simply accept the fact that i am loved by a perfect God? that i’m playing a role in my own story, and that i want it to be one worth reading? why dont i realize that the books i read are exciting and full of life because the protagonist faces a challenge of overwhelming odds and yet doesnt turn away?
why dont i realize that it’s in these stories that the protagonist becomes the man he was meant to be, that it’s the journey as much as it is the destination that makes the story a story? that it’s the battles, the victories, and yes, the losses, that make the story one worth telling and retelling.
without risk, without reward, without there being an overwhelming obstacle and without a reason to face that obstacle, there is no story.
tonight im faced with the challenge that in a lot of ways, i may be my own biggest obstacle. and if we’re honest with ourselves, that may be the same for a lot of us.
yes, we can blame our parents, our upbringing, the ways we were or werent treated. we can point to our history and share our stories and say that it’s not our fault. but when you strip all that away, no one holds you back from your dreams with any more power than you give them.
i think the rest of this year will be me facing myself. my own fears, fears of failure. fears of trying new things and allowing myself to bask in the grace that is so freely given.
isnt that what life was meant to be? loving enough to allow others to stumble? loving them so much that the freedom of trying something new, of stepping on toes and painting outside the lines becomes the reality that you live in?
i struggle with that. i do.
i like order and neatness and patterns.
but thats not all there is to life.
we forget that we were created. and if we were actually created, than there was a creator. and if there was a creator, then creativity is what literally gave us life. we’ve forgotten that it was love, passionate overwhelming love that created us.
we’ve forgotten that creativity was the very art form that breathed life into everything we see around us. we, you and i, are pieces of art.
and it’s that art that i want to fall in love with. i want to fall in love with the art, the beauty that exists inside of each of us. inside of you. i want to fall in love with music and passion and pottery and dancing. i want to fall in love with a creative spirit. and i want to rediscover the creative that lives in me.
Future of Forestry – Slow Your Breath Down
this chest is full of memories
of gold and silver tears
i’ll give you more to own than all of this
and i’ll give you more than years
for you were once a child of innocence
and i see you just the same
your burdens couldnt win or lose a thing
oh i’d tell you once again
but you’re always on the run
slow your breath down
just take it slow
find your heart now, oh
you can trust in love again
slow your breath down
just take it slow
find your smile now, oh
you can trust in love again
if you leave, i’ll still be close to you
when all your fears rain down
i’ll take you back a thousand times again
and i’ll take you as my own
i will sing you songs of innocence
till the light of morning comes
till the rays of golden honey cover you
in the sweetness of the dawn
but you’re always on the run
slow your breath down
just take it slow
find your heart now oh
you can trust in love again
slow your breath down
just take it slow
find your smile now oh
you can trust in love again
you’re not alone
you’re now a part of me
you feel the cure
i feel the toil it brought you
i got a raise this week. a big raise.
part of me was thrilled. part of me was thankful that the company noticed my efforts and rewarded as such. and for the rest of that day, i was filled with a temporal sense of happiness. but then something changed. and i think i’m only now beginning to understand.
my prayers of late have been those of struggle, of wanting to let go but fighting to hold on. they have been those asking to be saved from the kingdom of self.
i wondered earlier this week, why the raise didnt make me happier. why things didnt seem lighter or easier to deal with. and i think im finally realizing that things will never fill the void. i’ve always known that. but i think that changes when you hit thirty. and your attention shifts from work, the career, getting ahead, to the things that have a more eternal value.
our focuses shift to family, friends, and that place called home. to the bigger story that each chapter of our lives has thus far alluded to. and as our focus, as my focus shifts, i realize again that i dont want to be king. i dont want to live my life pursuing my own comforts.
i want a battle to fight, a girl to fight for, and a story to live.
in a million miles in a thousand years donald miller writes about his experience of having a movie made about his first book. a movie, literally made about his life. and its during the making of the movie that he realizes that a movie about his life would be boring. because his life, was boring. his life wasnt a story worth telling.
i want a story, stories, worth telling. stories of the battles, the girl, and amazing grace. stories full of hope.
because it’s in those things, its in the heat of the battle that we learn the value of life. it’s in the love and beauty of a woman that man finally begins to understand the mystery of grace. and it’s in living through the story being told, that we see ineffable proof of an Author who cares more for us than we’ve yet begun to comprehend.
and if it takes walking through the storm, the storms, to get to the place where i can be that man. the man who will fight, who will love, and who will follow the King of all stories…. then so be it.
Husbands, go all out in your love for your wives, exactly as Christ did for the church—a love marked by giving, not getting. Christ’s love makes the church whole. His words evoke her beauty. Everything he does and says is designed to bring the best out of her, dressing her in dazzling white silk, radiant with holiness.
that is what i want to be.
FindingTheCourageToDream.com 