dirty.knees

In preparation for yesterday’s message at Thrive Church, my heart has been in some serious “exploration” mode with God. Many of you know that I am a “tentmaker,” pastoring a church and holding a career as an architectural designer. So, it sort of goes without saying that I don’t mind working hard. But, I have to admit that I sometimes struggle with a calling to be a pastor and having to endure this season of splitting my time between the calling and a career.
Continue reading dirty.knees

thats.over.the.line

So… I’ve been thinking… and no, I haven’t hurt myself yet!

But seriously, I’ve been asking myself, “When is ‘it’ over the line?”

I love a good laugh, even if it means introducing a little potty humor (thanks Mo!) – I am a male after all.

My team at Thrive Church has at times skirted “the line” – often without realizing we were close to “it.” The only way I know is when someone says something like, “Wow, we could never do that our previous church” or “Be careful, don’t let the district office see that!” Continue reading thats.over.the.line

about.banners

I have the privilege of writing as a guest at “A Heart That Burns” – a blog by my friend, Chad Elliot.

I wrote about the banners we Christians wave. Here are a couple excerpts:

Giving a little background:

My bride and I, along with a small handful of people, planted a new church that launched in 2007. In the midst of a heavily Baptist town (a Baptist college is here), the Church of the Nazarene is pretty unknown here, even though there have been at least two different Nazarene churches in the town over the previous century. Both of those churches are now gone, the last closing in 2006. I still have people ask me “what is a Nazarene?” even after being here for four years (in March 2011). It’s hard to give them a short version of an answer to that question.

Changing the questions:

Then I say, “but none of that matters, does it?” That is usually met with a tilted head and confused look in their eyes. What matters most, above all, is our unity in Jesus Christ. What matters is our common beliefs in the one, true God, who sent His Son Jesus to rescue us from the perils of sin, and give us new life that we live with the graceful help of the Holy Spirit.

I’d love for you to share your thoughts. You can find the post by clicking this link.

I appreciate all who dare to read what I write – you bless me.

the.forgotten.instrument

neglected
that’s his name
his finish is worn in places
exposing the raw wood beneath

discovered
as she finds him in a corner
her hand finds the first string
the other presses at a fret

crinkled
that’s her brow with the sound
the first note so obviously bent
she smiles and marvels at him anew

inspired
as she begins turning keys
stretching and plucking each string
one by one they tune to her ear

beautiful
that’s his new sound
melodies ringing in aromatic chords
her voice fulfilling the destined duet

adoring
as she smiles, sounds still in the air
her hand follows the inlaid edges
as she loves the worn places

complete
that’s his new name
as his strings and her voice resonate
in songs only they can create

Dedicated to my bride, Angel, for Valentine’s Day.

This poem is part of The Warrior Poet Circle hosted by fellow warrior poet and friend Jason at Endless Impact.

the.peak

the gear is gathered
one by one they are secured
mental lists scroll to infinity
final checks with hands and eyes

I look to that peak
the formidable distance
the cold fire wisps in wind
contrails rolling, tumbling out

one more check
testing straps and clasps
a long sighing breath
as I steal another look at it

trudging on in angry wind
tucking my chin to watch my steps
a mental excuse to avoid a glimpse
of that overwhelming distance to climb

one more step and another reach
a grueling fight for that next ledge
it has to be close that withered peak
I steal a glance but regret the deed

farther and higher I push
fighting the desire
to measure the way
knowing regret is its price

but I look up anyway, and sigh
I look back down and cry
this endeavor is robbing me
of the joy of the trek

closer and closer I know it must be
and finally joy begins to creep
hearing the wispy contrails whistling
I look to see that it is in reach

joy upon joy the peak is near
that place to which I’ve pressed to be
that rest that’s promised at the peak
floods my soul with joyous relief

one final push to grasp the point
the stony throne that has no king
I pull and pull at last to see that peak
but it’s just the first of too many before me