Every so often I get the feeling that I am, as the title of this post would indicate, alone and unknown. Or perhaps more accurately, unknown and alone.
In these instances, I am overcome by the feeling that very few, if any, know the real me - with all my baggage, issues, and flaws. The result is a palpable sense of being alone.
We all have an innate desire for intimacy, to be known. And yet it is often our own protectionist efforts that keep this desire from being realized. We are so preoccupied with guarding our hearts that we refuse to let down our facades so that others might see and know what is real and true.
And so we end up feeling alone and unknown...like I did tonight.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Your Love Is Strong
I heard this song for the first time at the Fiction Family concert on Wednesday, and was immediately struck by its familiarity and simplicity. It just may be my new favorite song.
The song is "Your Love Is Strong" by Jon Foreman.
Heavenly Father, you always amaze me
Let your kingdom come in my world and in my life
Give me the food I need to live through today
And forgive me as I forgive the people that wrong me
Lead me far from temptation
Deliver me from the evil one
I look out the window the birds are composing
Not a note is out of tune or out of place
I walk to the meadow and stare at the flowers
Better dressed than any girl on her wedding day
So why do I worry?
Why do I freak out?
God knows what I need
You know what I need
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
The kingdom of the heavens is now advancing
Invade my heart, invade this broken town
The kingdom of the Heavens is buried treasure
Would you sell yourself to buy the one you've found?
Two things you told me
That you are strong
And you love me
Yes, you love me
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
Our God in Heaven
Hallowed be thy name
Above all names
Your kingdom come
Your will be done
On earth as it is in heaven
Give us today our daily bread
Forgive us weary sinners
Keep us far away from our vices
And deliver us from these prisons
The song is "Your Love Is Strong" by Jon Foreman.
Heavenly Father, you always amaze me
Let your kingdom come in my world and in my life
Give me the food I need to live through today
And forgive me as I forgive the people that wrong me
Lead me far from temptation
Deliver me from the evil one
I look out the window the birds are composing
Not a note is out of tune or out of place
I walk to the meadow and stare at the flowers
Better dressed than any girl on her wedding day
So why do I worry?
Why do I freak out?
God knows what I need
You know what I need
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
The kingdom of the heavens is now advancing
Invade my heart, invade this broken town
The kingdom of the Heavens is buried treasure
Would you sell yourself to buy the one you've found?
Two things you told me
That you are strong
And you love me
Yes, you love me
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong
Our God in Heaven
Hallowed be thy name
Above all names
Your kingdom come
Your will be done
On earth as it is in heaven
Give us today our daily bread
Forgive us weary sinners
Keep us far away from our vices
And deliver us from these prisons
Sunday, December 14, 2008
learning to trust - part 1
Seven months ago, I met with Tom Johnson at Chapters. He was preparing to retire from teaching at George Fox, and I wanted an opportunity to sit and have a conversation over coffee with this incredible man before he and his wife moved to the Seattle area. I didn't really know Tom very well, as we had little interaction beyond a few work-related things (he played a critical role in the presidential inauguration that I was responsible for). What I knew of him, however, was that he was a very well-respected, and much loved faculty member who deeply cared for others.
We talked a bit about The Shack, as he was planning on doing some writing about the book. He wanted to get my thoughts, and I wanted to pick his brain a bit too. It was a fascinating conversation. As we wrapped up the discussion about the book, Tom began asking questions about me: my background, my goals and desires, and what God was teaching me. I answered each of his questions, but as is my nature I held back a bit. This was in the midst of a fairly rough patch of life. A short but promising relationship had just ended, and I was a bit lost and overwhelmed as a result. Even though there are probably few people who can be trusted more in this world than Tom, I resisted complete vulnerability.
I did share that I had been wrestling a bit with trust, more specifically how, when and why I trust (or don't trust) God. What I found is that when confronted with deeper spiritual questions like this, Tom is a great person to talk through it with. He shared a bit about his own journey, careful not to imply that his experience held all the answers. As we concluded our time together, he suggested that I read Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning. This book had really impacted Tom, and he thought that it may help me process through some of my thoughts on trust. It sounded like a good idea, and so I added it to my long list of books to read.
Several days later I had lunch with my friend Katie. As we talked about life she asked, "Have you ever read Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning?" I just smiled. She too spoke of the impact that this book had on her own spiritual journey. Two strong recommendations of a book that I had previously never heard of, by two disparate people in the span of a few days was enough for me. I bought the book later that day.
This morning, seven months later still wrestling with some of the same questions about trust, I started reading it with intentionality. (I've started it a few times over the past few months, usually as I am laying in bed falling asleep. And with school as an excuse, I just haven't made time for it. The snow outside became the perfect opportunity to begin.) I am quite sure that there will be a number of blogs that come out of this reading in the next few days and weeks, but for now I'll share a few quotes that stood out today.
"Craving clarity, we attempt to eliminate the risk of trusting God. Fear of the unknown path stretching ahead of use destroys childlike trust in the Father's active goodness and unrestricted love" (p. 6).
"The way of trust is a movement into obscurity, into the undefined, into ambiguity, not into some predetermined, clearly delineated plan for the future. The next step discloses itself only out of a discernment of God acting in the desert of the present moment. The reality of naked trust is the life of a pilgrim who leaves what is nailed down, obvious, and secure, and walks into the unknown without any rational explanation to justify the decision of guarantee the future. Why? Because God has signaled the movement and offered it his presence and his promise" (p. 13).
We talked a bit about The Shack, as he was planning on doing some writing about the book. He wanted to get my thoughts, and I wanted to pick his brain a bit too. It was a fascinating conversation. As we wrapped up the discussion about the book, Tom began asking questions about me: my background, my goals and desires, and what God was teaching me. I answered each of his questions, but as is my nature I held back a bit. This was in the midst of a fairly rough patch of life. A short but promising relationship had just ended, and I was a bit lost and overwhelmed as a result. Even though there are probably few people who can be trusted more in this world than Tom, I resisted complete vulnerability.
I did share that I had been wrestling a bit with trust, more specifically how, when and why I trust (or don't trust) God. What I found is that when confronted with deeper spiritual questions like this, Tom is a great person to talk through it with. He shared a bit about his own journey, careful not to imply that his experience held all the answers. As we concluded our time together, he suggested that I read Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning. This book had really impacted Tom, and he thought that it may help me process through some of my thoughts on trust. It sounded like a good idea, and so I added it to my long list of books to read.
Several days later I had lunch with my friend Katie. As we talked about life she asked, "Have you ever read Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning?" I just smiled. She too spoke of the impact that this book had on her own spiritual journey. Two strong recommendations of a book that I had previously never heard of, by two disparate people in the span of a few days was enough for me. I bought the book later that day.
This morning, seven months later still wrestling with some of the same questions about trust, I started reading it with intentionality. (I've started it a few times over the past few months, usually as I am laying in bed falling asleep. And with school as an excuse, I just haven't made time for it. The snow outside became the perfect opportunity to begin.) I am quite sure that there will be a number of blogs that come out of this reading in the next few days and weeks, but for now I'll share a few quotes that stood out today.
"Craving clarity, we attempt to eliminate the risk of trusting God. Fear of the unknown path stretching ahead of use destroys childlike trust in the Father's active goodness and unrestricted love" (p. 6).
"The way of trust is a movement into obscurity, into the undefined, into ambiguity, not into some predetermined, clearly delineated plan for the future. The next step discloses itself only out of a discernment of God acting in the desert of the present moment. The reality of naked trust is the life of a pilgrim who leaves what is nailed down, obvious, and secure, and walks into the unknown without any rational explanation to justify the decision of guarantee the future. Why? Because God has signaled the movement and offered it his presence and his promise" (p. 13).
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
getting back to the point
"I am dying to be known. Can anyone concur? And yet, sometimes, I forget that being known as someone who I am NOT doesn’t feel any better than not being known in the first place. In fact, I think it feels worse."These earnest words belong to my friend Ally Spotts from her recent post "the truth, the lies, and the not talking..." As I read them, they began to reverberate through my mind, my heart, my soul. I was, and still am, struck by the simple truth of her words. Perhaps it is because I have come to this realization already. Perhaps it is because despite this previous realization, I still find new and creative ways to mask my identity, to conceal my heart.
These words directly reflect my purpose for creating this blog. To identify and challenge myself, and in turn others, to live in a manner consistent with and in light of my true identity. To be the man that God uniquely created me to be on this earth. I plan on posting more about this soon. In the meantime, read Ally's post. In many ways, she speaks my heart. And she does so in a manner that is far more eloquent that I am able to at this point.
To answer Ally's initial question...Yes, I concur. Do you?
Monday, June 23, 2008
unwrapping nostalgia
Pulling out of the driveway on his way back to see his wife and son at the hospital the day after his son was born, Bob pressed record on the cassette player. This was long before the advent of video cameras, digital recorders, and other modern recording devices. He had an 8mm movie camera. But because it lacked the ability to record sound and his goal was to record his thoughts, he carefully placed the family tape recorder in the passenger seat and left for the hospital.
This was a significant moment in his life; in the life of his young family. It was their second child, a son; they named him Robert, Jr. He wanted to remember it; to preserve it. For what specifically, he wasn't sure. He merely knew that this was a tape-worthy moment. As he drove the forty-four blocks in the family's white Buick alone, he poured out his heart, his emotion. He spoke of his joy and his hopes. He was methodical and eloquent in his approach and delivery, not disheveled as could be expected under the circumstances. He understood the magnitude of what he was doing and wanted to leave nothing out. He was, and is to this day, a sentimental man. The moment was one to remember, and thanks to the tape recorder faithfully chronicling every word and sound from the passenger seat, it would be.
As he sat excitedly at one of the last stoplights before turning into the hospital's small parking lot, just beginning to wrap up his 10-15 minute emotion-filled discourse, he looked down at the recorder just long enough to see that the button labeled "pause" was also depressed. It was gone; all of it. Despite his best intention to record the full spectrum of emotion that he was feeling, none of it had been saved.
He quickly reset the machine and in the two remaining blocks attempted to recreate all that he had just said. He began by describing his first effort, and then moved quickly into describing his feelings once again. Understandably, this second attempt was hurried. The right words were no longer on the tip of his tongue. They escaped him. As the clutch and squeaky gear shifter provided background noise, the sound of humorous disappointment filled his words as he walked his future listener through the situation and his emotions. The result was a shorter, less eloquent version that still manages to convey the weight of the moment.
My dad shared this story with me while we were eating dinner at Jake's Grill in downtown Portland on my 30th birthday. It's a story that I had never heard before, but one that I could hear him tell over and over again. Although he laughs about the situation now, the emotion that he felt thirty years ago is still there. Later that night after opening gifts, as my parents and I sat talking in the living room, my dad slipped away. Thinking he was headed to the bathroom my mom and I thought nothing of it. A few minutes later he returned with a tape recorder and a tape. Thirty years later, and he knew right where it was. I couldn't believe that he still had it.
He pushed play and we all sat there filled with anticipation, waiting to hear those hurried words spoken thirty years ago by my dad, who was thirty years younger, about me who was less than one day old. I sat in stunned silence hearing my much younger dad's voice; his emotion; his pride.
It was surreal. And was hands down the most amazing birthday present I could have ever received.
Thanks Dad.
This was a significant moment in his life; in the life of his young family. It was their second child, a son; they named him Robert, Jr. He wanted to remember it; to preserve it. For what specifically, he wasn't sure. He merely knew that this was a tape-worthy moment. As he drove the forty-four blocks in the family's white Buick alone, he poured out his heart, his emotion. He spoke of his joy and his hopes. He was methodical and eloquent in his approach and delivery, not disheveled as could be expected under the circumstances. He understood the magnitude of what he was doing and wanted to leave nothing out. He was, and is to this day, a sentimental man. The moment was one to remember, and thanks to the tape recorder faithfully chronicling every word and sound from the passenger seat, it would be.
As he sat excitedly at one of the last stoplights before turning into the hospital's small parking lot, just beginning to wrap up his 10-15 minute emotion-filled discourse, he looked down at the recorder just long enough to see that the button labeled "pause" was also depressed. It was gone; all of it. Despite his best intention to record the full spectrum of emotion that he was feeling, none of it had been saved.
He quickly reset the machine and in the two remaining blocks attempted to recreate all that he had just said. He began by describing his first effort, and then moved quickly into describing his feelings once again. Understandably, this second attempt was hurried. The right words were no longer on the tip of his tongue. They escaped him. As the clutch and squeaky gear shifter provided background noise, the sound of humorous disappointment filled his words as he walked his future listener through the situation and his emotions. The result was a shorter, less eloquent version that still manages to convey the weight of the moment.
My dad shared this story with me while we were eating dinner at Jake's Grill in downtown Portland on my 30th birthday. It's a story that I had never heard before, but one that I could hear him tell over and over again. Although he laughs about the situation now, the emotion that he felt thirty years ago is still there. Later that night after opening gifts, as my parents and I sat talking in the living room, my dad slipped away. Thinking he was headed to the bathroom my mom and I thought nothing of it. A few minutes later he returned with a tape recorder and a tape. Thirty years later, and he knew right where it was. I couldn't believe that he still had it.
He pushed play and we all sat there filled with anticipation, waiting to hear those hurried words spoken thirty years ago by my dad, who was thirty years younger, about me who was less than one day old. I sat in stunned silence hearing my much younger dad's voice; his emotion; his pride.
It was surreal. And was hands down the most amazing birthday present I could have ever received.
Thanks Dad.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
mother's day
Sunday was Mother's Day, and it was pretty dang sweet. I showed up at my parents house at about 7:30 a.m. with a bouquet of Lilacs (one of my mom's favorite flowers). They definitely weren't expecting me, and frankly I hadn't planned to see them. I was just going to leave the flowers on the porch with a card.
You see at 6 a.m. I was at PDX to see the Thailand May Serve team off. This is a group of students that is spending about three weeks working alongside ministries in Chaing Mai, Thailand. I really wanted to be there to affirm them in their calling to give up a portion of their summer for such a great purpose. This was my first May Serve send off, and I hope it wasn't my last.
So back to mom...I thought that we would be gone from the airport by about 6:30, I could drop the flowers off by 6:40 and my mom would have a surprise waiting for her when she woke up. Well, we didn't leave the airport until about 7:15...plan foiled. It didn't go the way that I thought it would, but I'm glad. I got to see my parents, give them hugs, and hand the flowers to my mom. I only wished I could have stayed longer (but I had other people in the car).
Yesterday, I was going through some old pictures and I found this one of my mom and I. If I remember correctly I was only a day old and we were still at the hospital (nice decor huh?). Okay, I don't remember that.
I love this picture. I can see the love that she had from me the day I was born. I see her beauty. This past Sunday as I dropped off the lilacs, nearly 30 years later, I saw that same love in her eyes. And, I saw that same beauty.
I love my mom.
I love you mom.
You see at 6 a.m. I was at PDX to see the Thailand May Serve team off. This is a group of students that is spending about three weeks working alongside ministries in Chaing Mai, Thailand. I really wanted to be there to affirm them in their calling to give up a portion of their summer for such a great purpose. This was my first May Serve send off, and I hope it wasn't my last.
So back to mom...I thought that we would be gone from the airport by about 6:30, I could drop the flowers off by 6:40 and my mom would have a surprise waiting for her when she woke up. Well, we didn't leave the airport until about 7:15...plan foiled. It didn't go the way that I thought it would, but I'm glad. I got to see my parents, give them hugs, and hand the flowers to my mom. I only wished I could have stayed longer (but I had other people in the car).
Yesterday, I was going through some old pictures and I found this one of my mom and I. If I remember correctly I was only a day old and we were still at the hospital (nice decor huh?). Okay, I don't remember that.
I love this picture. I can see the love that she had from me the day I was born. I see her beauty. This past Sunday as I dropped off the lilacs, nearly 30 years later, I saw that same love in her eyes. And, I saw that same beauty.
I love my mom.
I love you mom.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Jesus, All For Jesus
Yesterday at Baccalaureate we sang this song. I love its message, and pray that increasingly I am able to live out its words.
Jesus, all for Jesus,
All I am and have and ever hope to be.
Jesus, all for Jesus,
All I am and have and ever hope to be.All of my ambitions, hopes and plans
I surrender these into Your hands.
All of my ambitions, hopes and plans
I surrender these into Your hands.For it's only in Your will that I am free,
For it's only in Your will that I am free,
Jesus, all for Jesus,
All I am and have and ever hope to be.
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