Thrown By the Father

Dear Anonymous Reader,

There's a verse in the bible that speaks of Jesus as the author of our faith. Like most, I envision Him sitting before a book that is my life, and I immediately know that such an image is as far from the truth as anyone can get.

Because it isn't about me. I don't have my own book. I don't believe He sits there in whatever infinite study Heaven contains and writes a book dedicated to my life alone.

But then again, He's God. Maybe He has the time (C.S. Lewis thought so).

Instead, if we're still using the book metaphor, I see Him sitting before a massive book, something so titanic in scope that even the words written within its pages couldn't describe just how mind numbingly big it is. It contains every life, every interaction, every piece of that infinite puzzle that makes up eternal history.

And there, on page seven billion and twenty-seven, somewhere in the margin, is a blotch of ink. It's a liquidy, iron, charcoal-black drop, and it's slightly smeared, as if His hand brushed over it while finishing a sentence on the opposite page.

I mean, could God do that? From whatever pen He uses (I imagine one of those old, feathery fountain pens that you have to dip into the inkwell every few sentences), could some stray, divine, story-creating ink randomly find its way into the outlying margins; a genuine, seemingly misplaced speck of writing material?

(Now, I understand some of you are already pouncing on this page theologically (I am, too), spitting accusations of how that isn't how God directs our steps. Then again, I don't care. They're my thoughts and my virtual paper, so hush up and let me finish.)

And if so, can that splotch of black turn into a person's life? Could it be my life? Could there be millions of these splotches riddled throughout the book that is God's story of His creation: those of us long dead, those of us dying, and those of us yet to come?

Have I been thrown by the Father into the margins? And if so, and even if I'm smeared by His hand, even if I'm separated from the rest of the story, from the paragraphs of all those lives intertwined, does that mean I'm just as seemingly insignificant?

Or does He purposefully place these blotches of ink? Is He still working, even when I don't understand it all? Is He still writing me in, somewhere, even when I feel thrown to the side? Are the words that have created me, breathed life into me, taking shape inside the margins, even though I appear accidental?

Thrown by the Father. Those words hammer themselves through my prefrontal cortex like an obstinate drummer. So many of us find ourselves thrown by the Father into lives that, at the time, don't make any sense whatsoever. We're abused, confused, misplaced, and alone. We struggle not through existence, but for existence. In a society that's constantly changing, we wonder where, and if ever, we fit in.

Thrown by the Father: the question of relevance.

Thrown by the Father: the question of purpose.

Thrown by the Father: our question of love.

In the same way, I see a man hanging on a tree. From his hand, nailed tightly to the bruised wood, a drop of blood falls. It lands in the margins below, but its purpose is overwhelming and undeniably eternal.

That drop in the margin begins to take shape.

And sometimes, I wonder if it's me.

Sincerely,

-Sean

For Sale: Relational Monkeys

Dear Anonymous Reader,

Let's face it...I'm awesome. I mean, look at me: I've got the car, the hair, and I can play guitar.

I mean really, who wouldn't want to be me?

Right.

I was playing guitar last night...alone. So I shot up some Facebook and noticed there was an open mic going on downtown. What's better than playing guitar alone? Sitting at a bar playing guitar in front of people, heck yeah! 'Cause who wouldn't want to partake in this acoustical, melodic awesomeness?

Right.

Truth is, I'm pretty shallow. I sit at home and watch a show about cars because it's more entertaining than folding clothes (although, I guess I could fold clothes while I watch the show), and it's a heck of a lot easier than writing a story...or anything at all, really.

Painting the kitchen is a lot of work...and it's dark outside, so that's out of the question.

I'm pretty sure I'm not tired enough to sleep just yet.

Not that any of that makes me shallow...it's just a general statement followed up by my own interpretation of laziness.

Not that I'm lazy or anything. I work at a job, yo.

Aw, look at the kitty

Anyway, I've come to learn that many people are probably more prideful than they give themselves credit for. And by many, I mean me...'cause I'm the most important person in my life.

Which is bad...right?

Or wait, maybe not. How does that verse go? "Love your neighbor?"

Oh wait, that's right, it finishes up with "...as yourself."

So I've gotta know how much I love myself to know how much I should love you.

Which, I've gotta say, I love me a lot. Again, just look at my car and fancy hair. And maybe my shoes.

So if I love me that much and I'm supposed to love you that much...then I must really suck at life. I'll make sure I've got food...and wheels...and attention...and a job...and a place to sleep...and a shower...and maybe some socks...

But what about my neighbor? In fact, who is my neighbor? Or better yet...am I neighborly...regardless of who it is?

Or am I just someone that likes to talk a lot?

*reads previous paragraphs*

Ah.

Sincerely,

-Sean

Ages ago, before dinosaurs and women...

Dear Anonymous Reader,

It's easy to talk about imagination.

It's even easier to imaginate...as it were.

It's so easy, in fact, that I'm doing it right now.

(now scroll fancy pictures of an Oregon coast, a fast car, a ranch full of trees and rivers, and some girl that actually enjoys putting up with my nonsense who I call my wife)

Then imagine none of that being good enough for no reason at all.

Finding myself lost on the tail end of summer isn't anything new. It's quite easy, in fact. So simple, that if you were to ask me how I felt at any particular moment, you'd be bound to a chair amidst dull conversation about the size of the universe and how God seems to enjoy watching us try to "figure it all out."

And then I'd tell you how much I enjoy pizza.

Of all the things to worry about, my lack of direction isn't one of them.

Really.

I have enough sense to know that with a year of school left, I have no need to worry about what's after that. Some might find it a foolish conclusion.

"You need a plan!" most yell from the scaffolding above my apartment.

Well no crap, Sherlock. I've got a plan.

However, I'm fully away that a year from now, that plan will most likely look a little bit (or a lotta bit) different.

Why?

Because every year before, it always has been.

It's not to say I'm flippant or unsure of myself. It's just to say that I'm unsure and flippant about who I think I am, what I think I want, and where I believe God is taking me.

Roughly five years ago (my insincere apologies to all unbelievers and general "religion is ridiculous" nay sayers out there) God, after years of "searching," gave me a couple of simple, fairly straight forward directions.

"Finish school," was the first. The second isn't really important to anyone else, but it had nothing to do with women, children, a car, Oregon, or even the songs I so desperately thought should have made me famous by now (not that those aren't important, but there's nothing worse than a big head itching for fame).

So for the last 5 years, I've been doing just that: school. I take my time with it, obviously, since I've been going off and on for about 7 years now, but I guess I'm not in as much a rush as most everyone else. I don't have this vision of a career with kids and a wife and a house and a car and a dog that loves to jump when I come home and a perpetual Christmas with family.

Although I do enjoy the idea of it all.

Truthfully, I'm just sitting here watching an entertaining car show, enjoying how goofy things look from a couch and two spread out bottles of beer (yup, I enjoy a drink or two now and then).

I never thought, 5 years ago, that I'd be in the position I'm in. Single, still unsure of a definite career direction (sorry dad), and more interested in the circumference of the universe than how I'm going to retire well off enough to own a boat, a plane, annnnd a nice house with horses and mountains in the background (cause Lord knows that's what I think I want at this point).

In the end, and maybe this is what's most important, I just want to know, and then do, what He wants me to.

And you know what? I suck at it.

Like anyone else, Paul especially, I can't do the simplest things. Don't lie, don't lust, don't be prideful, feed the hungry, visit the orphans and widows, pray without ceasing, etc. etc. etc.

So many natural guidelines that should flow from love of a Creator...but I suck at following even the simplest one.

I mean truthfully, at the end of the day, I many times wonder why I bother. What does it matter? I'm some finite human being. Christianity these days seems to be more egotistical than a harmonious picture of what the Body of Christ should look like. It's all about me, me, and me and does God show Himself in enough convincing ways to be believable or is He just...outdated?

I digress.

God is our refuge and strength, A very present help in trouble.” Psalm 46:1

The verse of the day. Shows up every evening around 11pm, and I find it one of the very few things worth posting on Facebook. Most get lost in Mankind's assumption of what an all-powerful, creative deity should be and do. Our parameters fill books and libraries and tired minds until no one understands what the fuss is all about anymore.

It's just that, after so long, what's been presented just isn't good enough.

And that seems to be my own problem these days. I'm stuck in the rut that nothing's good enough. The girls, the cars, the society, the careers, the writing, the songs, the dreams...

...none of it, even the idea of it, is good enough.

And you know what? None of it is.

But He is.

His Grace, whether you believe it or not, IS good enough, and it makes all the other things He sets before me good enough.

I'm not good enough for anything, really. I can kind of carry a tune, but only so much. I'm not as compassionate as I'd like to think. And I can't cook to save my life.

But His sacrifice...that wasn't only good enough...that was enough.

The proverbial definition of true fulfillment.

And even though, in the midst of life, doubt, death, struggle, success, and almost certain confusion, His grace will always be good enough.

You don't have to believe it for it to be true, or effective, it just is.

And at the end of the day, regardless of where it began, I hope it can end with the knowledge that He is our strength, and He is our very present (not distant) help when we need it most.

And most importantly...to me, anyway, He is our refuge. When all other protection falls away, He remains...felt or not...a hedge over all other things dark and dangerous. And even though I may wander, He values me enough to leave the 99 to bring me back.

To hoist me over His shoulders.

To even break my leg when I can't seem to get it right.

To love me enough to cause me pain for a bigger picture and purpose I cannot see nor understand at this finite point in history.

Even unto death...for what is death but just a door I just can't see behind? Too simple? Maybe.

I imagine a lot of things, but His love isn't one of them. Regardless of what you believe, the one thing I can share with any sense of certainty is that when I'm at the end of whatever rope I'm holding, when belief has long fled from my mind and heart, He's still there watching over everything great, terrible, beautiful, and small...

...and in it all is His purpose.

Sincerely,

-Sean

Change

Dear Anonymous Reader,

It's cliche, I know, but everything changes. Everyone leaves. And somehow, even you leave yourself at some point.

It might have a bit of cheese mixed in, but someday, if you're lucky, you'll wake up and realize that the person you were five years ago is no long around.

For some of us, this is a good thing. For the jerk in high school who managed to find a heart; for the lazy kid who somehow manages to run a family; for the less ambitious who somehow found a dream, despite the cheesy songs of "you're perfect the way you are," we all hope something about us changes.

Otherwise (and to be perfectly frank), what the hell are we doing here?

Many people graduated from college yesterday. Some I'll see again, but most I won't. I'll only manage a few lines over the next few years through the miracle of Facebook, but otherwise, truth be told, their season in my life is over.

And surprisingly enough, that's alright.

The Sean from five years ago would have been slightly heartbroken. But after this long, after seeing so many people leave and move on, it's understood that nothing lasts forever, regardless of how we feel.

That whole "circle of life" thing.

If we allow it to, such change will give us room for the new seasons, the new people, and the new experiences we have waiting for us.

Congrats, College Grads. I'll join you one of these days.

But as you can tell, I'm in no hurry.

Sincerely,

-Sean

If You're Right and You Know It (clap your hands!)

Dear Anonymous Reader,

I've got one of those story telling personalities that has to start at the beginning.

The very beginning.

                 The, "Two hundred years before I was born," beginning.

It's not that I necessarily like to hear myself talk as much as I just like for there to be substantial context for the story I'm telling...and the ultimate point I'm trying to make.

Because it's all about the story.

Yes, yes, you have the point of the story, the capstone, and such impatient types would love for you to skip to the end like any lazy chap (too much Top Gear) could "reading" a book (cheaters), but the entire point itself is wrapped up into the very story you're telling (or skipping).

(guilty)

We've become an impatient, cheap society.

Well, wait, that's not right. We've always been an impatient, cheap society, and to tell that story, I've got to go back roughly 7,000 years.

You see, there was this guy, Moses, and he was out shepherding sheep one day when...

Just kidding. I won't bore you (myself included) with such things this early in the morning (or late in the evening, whichever you prefer).

The easiest way I can make this point without delving into thousands of years of biblical history is this:

And He died on the cross so that you might live.

That's the point. The entire history of the bible, the entire message of the gospel, is wrapped up (basically) into that sentence right there.

But how'd He get there? one might ask. And who is He anyway? Why did He have to die? Why the cross? Where'd He come from and where'd He go? Was it even necessary? Is it even true?

What's the point?

There's always more to the point than just "the point." There's more to me than my desire to provide lengthy explanations that very well may put you to sleep. And there's more to being right than the profound knowledge that I'm more than likely wrong.

A lot.

But I see my story...the sides you don't. Even when the story's written on my face in lines and figures, expressions of surprise, gratitude, regret, happiness, or anger, there's more to it than just your interpretation and postmortem assumptions of why it is I do what I do (or did).

And I've been around long enough to know that even when I know for sure why you do what you do, most of the time, I don't really know jack squat.

Regardless of who you are.

All I can tell you is that I know I'm right, for now, even though I know I'm more than likely wrong.

And that's okay.

And if you find yourself in the same position, that's alright, too. We've all had to experience the rude awaking of realizing we're wrong.

"Every man’s way is right in his own eyes, but the LORD weighs the hearts." -Proverbs 21:2

There are days when I have no idea where my heart is. In fact, I could probably say that most days I have no clue where it is and which way it's going. Accordingly:

"The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick; who can understand it? -Jeremiah 17:9

Therefore, I know only to do this:

“...looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” -Hebrews 12:2

The entire point is that I'm not the point.

He is.

And there's a long, incredible story at my fingertips that tells me about it, and it's still being written.

I'm hardly right, despite my confidence and my stories, but He is. And if you don't know Him, just take a look and make an attempt to see Him not as some grand figure stapled to a religion, but as a living being allowing His creation to get to know Him in creative ways.

And if you really give it a go, despite the outcome, you'll be in for and a part of an amazing ride and fascinating story.

Sincerely,

-Sean

In Pursuit of Women (To ask or not to ask?) Part 6

Dear Anonymous Reader,

It's been a few days (or weeks...maybe)...seems I'm not procrastinating as much as I used to (except for that English paper...it's been procrastinated like a mo-fo).

At any rate, these next few "In Pursuit of Women" installments may not be in the particular order in which they occurred. I can think of at least 5 girls I liked throughout high school, but for the life of me, remembering the exact order or grade when I liked them is sketchy.

Not that you really care about those details anyway, but there ya have it.

This next girl is significant because she's the first girl I asked out...who I didn't really think I wanted to go out with.

Heck, I probably didn't even really like her all that much.

Yeah, how often does that happen?

We were both in band, and from early on in whatever school year it was (maybe Freshman year), I could tell there seemed to be some sort of interest on her part. I honestly don't remember much aside from the fact that I enjoyed the attention, but like with most all girls, she didn't fit what I thought I was looking for.

And, honestly, I think she got on my nerves more than anything.

But that aside, we took a band trip to Corpus Christi later in the year. Most of what happened is fuzzy (aside from the monstrous stick man I made in the sand the next morning), but one night as everyone took a walk on the beach, I think someone told me this girl liked me and that we'd look cute together...or something of the sort. All I really remember is knowing I didn't want to ask her out, but I felt bad, so I did anyway.

And naturally, by this point, she was probably put off by my obvious lack of interest, and so she took the power into her hands and said no

I felt rejected, for a moment, but then I remembered that I didn't really want to go out with her anyway, so I was thankful. If she would have actually said yes, then I more than likely would have found myself in an extremely awkward position the very next day when I woke up and realized I was "dating" some girl I didn't even like.

Awkward for me, and a jerk move for me to pull on her.

My dad gave me some great advice once based on a personal story of his I won't take the time to go into, but it basically goes like this:

"Don't ruin your life just to be polite."

There's a big difference (I hope) in caring for a person vs. knowing they're the sort of person you actually want to spend the rest of your life with. Thanks to our schizophrenic hormones, those lines can sometimes become cloudy...very cloudy.

Figure out what you want, where it counts, and don't worry about anything else until they come around. It's better to live alone learning patience and how to enjoy life than be stuck with someone you can't stand...or who can't stand you.

In short, and in conclusion, don't settle, and don't be the one settled for.

Sincerely,

-Sean

Kony 2012 (Make him...what?)

Dear Anonymous Reader,

Sometimes procrastination is a very good thing.

I'm sure by now most of you have seen or heard of the Kony 2012 (Make Him Famous) viral/social networking movement/trend/fad/whatever-you-feel-like-calling-it. If you haven't, here's a link to Invisible Children's 30 minute vid followed by a short summary:

A non-profit group known as Invisible Children aims at bringing Joseph Kony (war criminal and leader of the L.R.A., a rebel group who desires to see people follow the 10 commandments) to justice in 2012 by "making him famous." Their reasoning is that if everyone in the western world (or world in general) knows who Kony is and what he's done, then people will be forced to do what it takes, to back (or create) whatever policy it takes, to assist the Ugandan Government in bringing him down. So on April 20th, it's I.C.'s hope that thousands (if not millions) of young people across the nation (and the world, if possible) will blanket their cities in posters, t-shirts, and other such merchandise to make Joseph Kony undeniably famous. 

Simple enough?

It's never that simple.

The first night the video aired over vimeo/youtube, I watched Facebook/Twitter lit up like a proverbial Christmas tree as people joined the cause to see justice brought to the people (and especially the children) of Uganda.

So like everyone else, I watched the video. And despite my general skepticism, I was touched and wanted to know more about the issue at hand...as well as the other side of the story.

As a side note (for context of my position, not for boasting), I already give to a couple of charities that run various programs in Africa and Asia. So my interest and position on Invisible Children and their methods didn't suddenly appear in reaction to the hype. 

Needless to say, there's a lot to the "other side of the story" that most that night did not take the time to consider. Emotionally invigorated by talented cinematography, the unintentional mob mentality (my own opinion), and the hope of doing something good for a group of people that need it, a great many signed on to bring Kony down in 2012.

Now before you get ahead of me, I'm not against Invisible Children or their desire to see a war criminal brought to justice. That, without argument, is a very good and necessary goal. I also can't deny that some of the programs I.C. provides, and especially the awareness they raise about issues that would otherwise go unnoticed, are commendable.

I am, however, for this issue, against their desired method. But more than that, I'm against the general population's lack of further research and consideration into the potential repercussions of April 20th.

Some have tried to argue against I.C.'s position by pointing out poor money management, their current lack of financial accountability, and other such fiscal related issues. To Invisible Children's credit, they've addressed these questions with grace and transparency. My problem isn't with how Invisible Children spends the money they're given. They have the right and freedom to do with it what they will.

My problem is with how we spend our money. And is I.C. the proper place at this point?

So far, over half a million "action kits" have been purchased from I.C. since this campaign started. At $30 a pop, that's over $15 million dollars.

That's almost twice what they made for the entire year of 2011.

I.C. freely admits that they're not an aid organization, they're an advocacy group. That's great. People need advocates.

But does I.C. properly reflect the current issues in Uganda (or Africa in general), or do they have their own agenda of good intentions that unintentionally leaves Africans misrepresented and angry?

In my own opinion, spending millions of dollars on "action kits" and littering cities with tomorrows trash ends up being a gross waste of money and proverbial "clanging cymbal."

More-so, when April 21st rolls around, the general population will awake (in the West anyway) to cities littered in red talking about a man they've already heard of online and in the news.

Redundancy at its best.

Thus, millions of tax payer dollars will go to cleaning up the streets (since posters only last so long, especially in the rain), and for the price of redundancy, millions of dollars which could have gone to direct aid and efforts not only in Africa (there are great many other organizations out there) but at home (tax payer dollars which fund local programs) will have been wasted to retell the world something they already know:

Kony sucks.

Meanwhile, the actual voice of the Ugandans go unheard and unassisted because we youth thought it a better idea to pay for chatter about an issue than for actual aid for the many issues they may indeed face.

From a Christian perspective, it's along the lines of telling the world, "There are hungry people! Feed them!" without actually giving the hungry any food.

Dead Faith.

But more importantly, we fail to do the research so that we can understand what we should actually be doing to assist those in need (and do they even need our help in the first place...or are we making matters worse?).

We've merely been told what to do, and like sheep, we blindly follow.

Procrastinate, for once, on this issue, and do the research to see where your money and efforts can best be invested. If you conclude it's with Invisible Children, great. But it's a big world; take the time to look around.

Sincerely,

-Sean

There are a lot of different sources for the information I've posted. This guy, however, has done a lot more research than I have, and has compiled resources here. Please take a look.