Mysterious Ways

It's been a while since I've really had a good talk with God. I've been busy, or I laze around in bed for too long, or, frankly, I just choose to ignore Him.

Yesterday my pastor spoke about God's desire for us to celebrate life. To celebrate Him. I've felt lately that I've been a failure to my Savior. My life isn't one that stands out or is full of the miraculous power of God. (Actually it is, I just don't want to look deep enough to see it).

Today on the bus ride in I listened to a sermon on Esther, and I was reminded that we all are called by God. We all have a mission in life. But we also have a "shadow mission," that more selfish use of our time and talents that we tend towards. Our true mission requires effort and self-sacrifice. It calls us to do that which is beyond us.

I've been on my shadow mission of late. Coasting through life. As I hopped the train to the med center, I switched my mp3 player over to a Joan Osborne album. God used it to speak to me - first through "Crazy Baby." Here's a smattering of the lyrics:

"Oh you're getting really hard to be with, and you're crying everytime you turn around, and you wonder why you cannot pick your head up, off the ground. Oh my crazy baby, try to hold on tight. Oh my crazy baby, don't put out the light."

It really spoke to me as I contemplated life without God, following my "shadow" mission. Just a selfish focus on myself and my small little world. It's a tiring way to live. It sucks the life out of you.

And then, my player kicked over to "Ladder" and God was clearly telling me directly "I'm gonna love you anyway, today and everyday, today and everyday" in the chorus. That's something He keeps reminding me. I can choose my path, and my path choice does nothing to affect how He does feel or will feel about me. His love for me never changes. And that is life changing.

Downtown Transit Center, Doors Open Left

Seen on the Monday morning train: lady with a shirt saying, "Property of the Official Oklahoma cow tipping association."

Yesterday's message at church has been rolling around in my brain. The gist is this: Spiritual Disciplines mean nothing if the aren't causing you to love God and other people. Like most people, I tend to measure my spiritual condition based on my "spiritual activity." It gives me a dipstick reading of holiness that shows where I stand with other people. It makes me feel better about myself (at least I am reading my Bible, unlike so and so) or worse about myself (he prays 3 hours every day, what are you doing wrong, schmuck?)

The problem with that kind of thinking is that it has nothing to do with whether or not I am loving God and other people more.

MORE BEER! MORE BEER!

Now that Shondra and I are back in the house, I'm settling back in with the neighbors. Our neighbors to the North are a great hispanic couple with 4 cute young'uns who frequently hit us up for whatever the local school fundraiser might be. Across the street to the East are the neighbors who I share my grass clippings with and who frequently are called upon to watch our cats when we are gone on vacations.

To the South are some neighbors I've been a bit hesitant about. Every year they have a HUGE Halloween party which consists of massive decorations, several kegs, and a large number of revelers - many of whom leave me gifts of empty beer containers on my lawn. Needless to say, they haven't been my favorite neighbors.

As we've been moving in, I've made an effort to get to know my neighbors a bit better. I walked over and borrowed some drillbits from my Southern neighbor, and I have to say that he's a decent guy. His garage is a neighborhood phenomenon. It is a full blown bar, complete with pool table, TV, and the beer bottle trophies of beverages conquered by those who have gone before. I hung out at his place a couple Friday nights ago and had a good time chatting about Star Wars books and the intricacies of good wheat brews.

This Sunday I was out working on my flower beds and I heard someone yelling something unintelligible above the roar of a lawnmower from the direction of the Southern Neighbor. As I peered over the fence and listened more closely I was amused to find my neighbor's housemate (I think) plowing down the grass in their lawn while yelling at the top of his lungs "MORE BEER! MORE BEER!" Great stuff.

It's good to have some quirky neighbors. That way I don't feel like the only oddball.

The Little Stuff

Yesterday at church, my pastor talked about "Cursed Worship." In a nutshell, bringing our leftovers to God instead of our best. Disrespecting who God is because we'd rather love the world than Him.

Commuting in to work has been somewhat of a blessing. It forces me to slow down. I look around. I notice the sunrise. I notice the variety and diversity of the people on the train as I ride to the med center.

It's so easy to get caught up in needs and wants. Needing to pay the bills. Needing to save up for property taxes. Needing to clean the house. Wanting a new TV. Wanting to do some landscaping. Wanting more stuff for my bike.

It keeps my head down so I can't see all the beauty around me in my trouble. It lies to me and tells me how much better it will be when I finally do this or that.

The truth is all I have, all we have, is now. This moment. It is joy and sorrow, beauty and brokenness.

Bicycle Commute - Day 1 ride home

Shondra asked me yesterday, 'what if it rains?' Tonight on the ride home I found out. You get wet.



When I arrived at the bus station tonight, skies were overcast and it was thundering a bit, but it looked like it was clearing. I hopped on the bike and headed towards home. About halfway there I hit a cloudburst. I pulled off the road and stood under the shelter of some trees until it lightened a bit. I really need to get some fenders and a rain jacket.



Got home safe, though. And as hot as the last few days have been, the rain felt nice on the ride.