A Tribute to Southern California

Our time in Orange County is quickly coming to a close. We just realized we only have about 5 weeks here, 5 weeks in our first home, 5 weeks with our friends, 5 weeks with our students, only 5 weeks... In any transition, there are a lot of emotions to process, but more often than not those emotions form some strange conglomeration that feels a lot like numbness. My first splash of mourning crept up on me Thursday when I started feeling sad about losing my go-to LA radio stations. I mean, I love me some Ryan Seacrest or Valentine to start my morning commute, but this was certainly a hint of deeper realities of my heart. It's easy to list things I won't miss - like inexplicable traffic on any day at any time, the trains that shake our apartment at all hours, the inability to see stars, having to filter our water, and everything about the 91 freeway - but I also want to record the things I've really come to love here. So, as I process my sadness in leaving this land that had become home over the past 6 years, I've written this tribute.

Dear Southern California, 

The land of unseasonably warm weather and unnatural palm trees, you are a truly beautiful place. I will miss your gorgeous beaches, your pier boardwalks, your Ruby's Diners, the way you make my hair salty and wavy, and the way I feel when I snag a good, free parking spot in Newport Beach. I'll miss the freedom to get a donut at any time of day or night in your many 24 hour donut shops, should I get a craving. I'll miss your cultural diversity and killer hole in the wall restaurants. Ill miss your delicious traveling food trucks. I'll miss Groundlings Improv shows and exploring LA. I'll miss Monday night girls nights with my best friends - who can beat that? I'll miss your morning radio stations. I'll miss your lingo, like how everyone talks about how much time they saved by which freeways and roads they took to get to their location (I'm writing this on the 5 south, not sure if we'll take the 210 to bypass traffic in LA yet). I'll miss prefacing all freeways with "the." I'll miss the phrase 'carmegeddon', honestly, where else is that a real thing? I'll miss living blocks from your cute Old Towne Orange, full of adorable antique shops and eateries. I'll miss the first place Calvin and I have ever called home together.  I'll miss seeing little red Biola parking stickers all over as I drive around. I'll miss hearing Disneyland's fireworks every night like clockwork, or catching the tail end of a show from the freeway. I'll miss recognizing normal places and landmarks as a film location for TV shows and movies. I'll miss hearing the familiar screams as our neighborhood kids play outside or hearing our neighbor greet his cats. I'll miss your warm sunshine that provides shorts weather yearlong. I'll miss the hopefulness of young aspiring somebodies in LA. And your, people, your picture perfect OC people -- once strangers to us, now family.

It's been a good run, So Cal. We hope to bring some if your sunshine and warmth to the city by the bay.

Sincerely yours,

Kenzie

The Gift of Powerlessness

I love those "A-HA" moments, when something familiar suddenly surprises you with something you had never noticed, reminding you to always be alert.  I recall this distinctly happening while at an art museum, gazing at a well known painting.  I was familiar with the picture, but it wasn't until I saw the frenzied brush strokes, the delicately mixed paint, the drops of white that make the colors around burst to life.  That was an A-HA moment, a reminder to never grow comfortable with the world at large.

I had another A-HA moment this morning when reading Scripture. I've been reading about the life of David and its been a bit unsettling at times.  David is first introduced as a man who will seek after God's heart, who will be a faithful king as opposed to Saul.  With this initial description, its easy to fantasize and romanticize David, holding him up as the perfect example of faithfulness and devotion.  And yet this is a guy who eventually abuses his kingly power by impregnating another man's wife and then murdering him to cover his tracks.  The guy whose son rapes his daughter and all he does is slap him on the wrist and send him on his way.  This is the man after God's heart.

I was opened to the dynamic nature of David's character again today.  1 Samuel 24-26 contains three stories about David. David first spares Saul's life when he enters into a cave to relieve himself, not knowing that David is hiding in the back of the cave.  David chooses to let Saul go free rather than kill him, stating that it is the Lord's role to avenge, not him.  Following this, David and his men ask for Nabal to feed them for watching over his shepherds and sheep.  Nabal foolishly refuses and David is about ready to decimate his entire household had not Abigail rushed to David and asked for forgiveness.  David acquiesces and Nabal dies not too long after by the Lord's hand.  Finally, David sneaks into Saul's camp and has the opportunity to kill him once again.  And again, David refuses to kill Saul, leaving vengeance and retribution in the Lord's hand.

In these three stories, we get a simultaneous glimpse of David's devotion to God and his utter rashness.  David is twice willing to spare the life of the man who seeks to take David's life and yet he also is ready and willing to slaughter an entire family over a failure to provide provisions. It is the actions of Abigail that keep David from taking innocent blood, reminding him to leave things in God's hands.

I find it interesting that when David is in a position of powerlessness, with his four hundred men compared to Saul's thousands, he trusts in the Lord, acknowledging that Saul was still anointed by God.  Yet, when David is in a position of power, with four hundred fighting men compared to a single household, he is willing to kill when he doesn't get his way.

Our culture views powerlessness as a form of weakness, something to be avoided at all costs.  But maybe powerlessness and weakness are gifts from God which invite us to greater dependency and trust in the one who orders the sun and the stars. Even more, maybe powerlessness and weakness are not just gifts, but insights into the life and character of God, the God who enters this world as a baby, the God who shows his character not in displays of power, but in an act of powerlessness, helplessness, and absolute weakness.

A Motley Crew

My constant failure is a mark of being Christian, for the beginning point for anyone on the journey towards Christlikeness is a recognition that we fail.  A lot.  And even when we submit ourselves to God's present reign and rule, we still make mistakes and fail.  Thus the beauty of grace.

I was reading 1 Samuel 22 and was struck my something I had never noticed before.  David is fleeing from Saul and hides in the cave of Adullam.  His family hears he is hiding there and they come to join him.  And then the text describes the other people who came to join David in the cave:

"And everyone who was in distress, and everyone who is in debt, and everyone who was bitter in soul, gathered to him. And he became commander over them. And there were with him about four hundred men."

1 Samuel 22:2

Here we have the anointed David, the true King of Israel, fleeing from the egotistical attempts of a rejected king trying in vain to secure his position and status.  And David, rather than attracting the best of the best, those nurtured and trained from a young age with a sword in their hand, finds himself surrounded by a motley crew. Those in distress.  Those in debt. Those embittered and discontent. We don't know why they were distressed, in debt, or discontent.  Some scholars think they were social outcasts, those looking for a chance to overthrow Saul, hoping for a chance to see Saul crushed under David's feet.

When I read this short description of David's loyal band, I was reminded of those whom Jesus called to himself.  Fishermen.  Tax collectors.  Zealous revolutionaries hoping to overthrow Rome by violent means.  One who would eventually betray him.  Jesus may have eaten at the homes of the rich, but when he called them to give all they had and live by the ways and rhythms of the Kingdom, they walked away.  And yet, it was this very same motley crew of misfits that Jesus chose to launch his Kingdom movement to the corners of the world.

Last night my wife and I had dinner with my former youth pastor and a friend I've known since before I can remember.  She is, in her words, "doing what Jesus leads her to do."  She's also living in her parent's basement.  He, an engineer, is living in Long Beach, working for oil companies and attending his local church in the meantime.  My wife and I, in a move that defies reason and logic, are leaving a stable environment and venturing into the unknown.  And as we were saying goodbye last night, I thought to myself, "We are a bit of a motley crew. We may be broken and bruised, but we are still chosen."

There's a church in Colorado named The Scum of the Earth taken from 1 Corinthians 4:13. I think that's an apt description of the church. We are not the pride of the world, but the scum of the earth.  We truly are a motley crew of people to whom God has entrusted his Spirit and Kingdom movement. But should we really be surprised? A quick survey of Scripture reveals its what God has been doing from the very beginning!

Our Next Adventure

The past few months have been full of prayer, questions, decisions to be made, and lots of uncertainty. Weeks of prayer and discernment recently culminated in our final decision for our next steps  - we have decided to move back up to the bay area in August. Kenzie will be beginning her MA in Marriage & Family Counseling with Western Seminary in San Jose and Calvin will be finding a pastoral position.

Now let me rewind and explain our process of how we got here. Over the past year Calvin finished his final year of his Masters of Divinity at APU (with honors!), and Kenzie has applied and been accepted to APU, Vanguard, and Western Seminary for their MFT programs. Regardless of our location, we knew this next adventure would involve transition for us - in schedule, swapping roles, etc. As we thought about and prayed through where the Lord may be leading us, we have had a a few major requests for the Lord:

1. Unity of our hearts
2. An open door
3. Lord, increase our faith (*Admittedly, we did not think prayer requests 1 & 2 were connected with 3, but God has this funny sense of humor...see my blog post titled Doubting Thomas)

Once Kenzie was accepted into schools, the deadlines and weight of our decisions began to set in - do we stay in Orange County with our best friends, jobs, ministries, and church family....or....do we pack up and move back home to the bay area and be closer to family, with or without a job, trusting that God will provide?

After weeks of prayer and discussions, we agreed to set apart one week to "try on" both decisions. Monday and Tuesday we lived as though we had decided to stay in SoCal, noting our reactions, excitements, disappointments, fears, etc. Wednesday we took a day to pray, fast, and transition our hearts. Thursday and Friday were spent wearing the decision to move up north, again noting our reactions, fears, excitements, disappointments. Throughout this week we sought wise counsel of many people in our lives, those who were invested in us staying, those invested in us moving, and those invested in us being faithful to God's whispers.
As a bookend to our week of discernment, we took a one night campout, settling in the slow pace of camping to reflect on our week.

One of the discernment projects we practiced was writing what makes us feel alive and defeated about both decisions. We each wrote our lists separately before comparing - only to find that our lists were almost identical, even sometimes written in the same order! The week was filled with great insights, emotional highs & lows, and great dependence on God.

Though our open door is at Canyon Hills, our hearts are united, at peace, and excited about our new faith journey in moving to be closer to family. We have no idea what the next step will look like, but we know that God is good, and He will provide. Needless to say, this decision is a bitter-sweet one for us. We are excited to feel "home" again, knowing our hearts can settle and lay roots, but we are leaving a loving church family, many friends, and our cozy home in the ridiculously cute Orange circle.

The Sunday after we made our final decision, we sang  Hillsong United's Oceans at church. God's timing is good, and this song may be his first provision for us - an anthem as we continue to rely on Him.



We will be in Orange County through early August, then moving up to our next adventure, whether that be our new home, or my old bedroom at my mom's house :) Please pray with us as we look for job opportunities, housing,  financial provision for school, and increased faith. Thank you all for your support - through this blog and through every day life.
  
We covet your prayers!

To our Canyon Hills Family- We will be here through August 1st and we would love to process this transition together. We understand that losing youth leaders can feel confusing, hurtful, and sad. Know that we are grieving this as well. In our own high school years we each experienced multiple transitions of small group leaders, high school directors, and youth pastors. It's not easy to start over in relationships and it takes time to build trust. In light of that, we are humbled by the opportunities we've had over the past years to be entrusted with each of your lives, and we deeply thank you for walking alongside us. Canyon Hills will remain a special place in our hearts and we promise we won't be strangers, we'll come visit whenever we're in the area and we will gladly offer up our couch to anyone visiting San Francisco! Let's commit to finishing this last leg of our journey together well. We love you all.

Lament

Going through my desk, I (Calvin) found this lament I had written for a class about a year ago.  Our American culture is not too familiar with the lament, other than in popular break up songs.  Yet the Psalms are filled with cries of anguish as people desperately try to make sense of God's movement in the midst of pain.  Though it does not reflect my current status, I was reminded of the need to express our pain in its rawest and simplest form. May you be blessed by this.

Faithful and Redeeming God,
who has called to himself a people set apart and distinct,
bearing your name, living representations of You.

Why must I deal with your people?
What do you gain by covenanting with a people such as these?
Why have you yoked me to them?

With words and proclamations,
they deceitfully masquerade themselves as
faithful, pious, and full of compassion,
yet their hearts are hardened
to forgiveness, love and reconciliation.

Like a beginning art student,
their free-hand attempts to convey your image
only mar the original.

If you've call them to be your representation,
then I don't like the You I've gotten to know.

Pettiness,
Immaturity,
Ignorance,
and Self-Righteousness abound.
Can they get any more creative with their sin?

Though I do not understand, I know that these are your people
that you are transforming by your Holy Spirit.
I know that you have not abandoned us.
Your mercy and patience extend into eternity.

May I see your hand at work in this community and in looking at them, may I see you.

Doubting Thomas

Confession: I'm a PresbyFriend. Let me clarify - first and foremost, I follow Jesus. But I learned how to follow Jesus in a Presbyterian church. I've got reformed theology, a love for solid biblical teaching, structure, and traditional liturgy. Now I'm at an Evangelical Friends church. We love good community (and good food!), emphasizing Jesus in our midst, and influencing our culture. But if I'm really honest, I think I'm a closet wanna-be-charismatic-PresbyFriend.

I spent a summer in college living in the suburbs of Salt Lake City for an internship at a counseling center & spent a lot of time with my church family, The Adventure Four Square Church in Draper. These people are to this day some of the most amazing I've met in my life. They've got story after story of God's movement, his redemption, his life in the midst of a dead world. They also exercise a lot more freedom, movement, and power in the Spirit than my little Presbyterian brain could compute--in the best and most confusing way.

This past weekend I was home for my soon-to-be sister-in-law's bridal show & went to a Four Square church with mom. Their guest speaker was the most adorable 82 year old fire-cracker godly man who does missionary work in the Middle East, bringing millions to know Jesus. He told story after story of people being instantly healed of cancer, of signs and wonders that get people's attention and led them to Jesus. He read us parables and stories of Jesus healing the sick, of compassion welling up inside Him that led him to heal each and every person brought before Him. The speaker then led many to come up and be prayed over to be healed of cancer and sickness. No fanfire or fireworks, just a simple prayer over those with a simple faith in a big, capable God.

And there I sat in my chair, nervous. Not because anything they said was off base, but because I was convicted that my intellectual faith sometimes doesn't translate to a faith that fully trusts in God for all things. I can describe His power, cite passages of him healing the sick, blind, demonized, raising the dead...but apparently my heart doesn't fully believe it. I'm a doubting Thomas. I crave to live as Jesus intended his followers to live. A life I often describe as mundanely normal interwoven with threads of the miraculous. I struggle to find that balance, to boldly display the power of the Holy Spirit in my daily life. We are His ambassadors, with His authority, His power, & His inheritance granted to us as adopted children..

Last weekend I realized I believe all those things, yet they were wrapped in some unspoken contingencies: That living what I believe doesn't make me look foolish. That I'm not embarrassed. That it works within my schedule... Ultimately, I think I set up these walls in my heart so that I'm not disappointed if God chooses not to heal. If he chooses to answer differently than I wanted. If he chooses to be silent. I realized that I give up easily when disappointed or hurt. My heart puts up protective walls, and this week I realized once again that on those walls are written I don't fully trust you, God.  Calvin recently listened to a sermon that said the opposite of faith is not doubt, it's sight. I am Thomas, who wouldn't believe Jesus was resurrected until He saw the wounds in his hands.

This week I've struggled to make sense of my heart. I'm reading through the gospels and finding innumerable accounts of this miraculous, normal life that doesn't always fit with the world I experience. Our God is sovereign, He will do what he wants, yet there is some mysterious relationship with our faith and his movement around us. And my faith is peanut sized, easily wavered when hit with disappointments. I've got no idea what this journey will look like. I only know I'm committing myself to pursuing a persistent faith like the one of the widow seeking justice...like the bleeding woman who knew if she could just touch His garment she'd be healed...like the centurion whose servant was dying....like the paralytic's friends...like the little boy with 5 fish and 2 loaves...like my 82 year old brother in Christ. I pursue faith not for faith's sake, because a misplaced faith, no matter how great, is ultimately in vain. I pursue a great faith because my God is great.

Sometimes I'll need to borrow other people's faith. So journey with me, encourage me, remind me of our great God, of the things He's done. Together I think we'll find a rich journey of adventuring with Jesus, a life that draws attention to our great King.



**I know there are a lot of views on gifts and how they are to be used, or not used, in today's context. I'm not advocating any certain theological stance, only responding to what I read in the Bible and hoping to live that out fully. Be gracious with me.

The Untameable Cross

Tomorrow is Good Friday, the penultimate paradox of Christianity, a celebration of a death that brings life. We do well to approach tomorrow with hesitancy, with bated breath, with a slowness in our step and a quiver in our voice.  Tomorrow is the great upheaval, the day when the evil and violence that we've welcomed into our beds is overthrown, but not with a greater act of power.  Rather, the darkness of the human heart is revealed for what it is in the face of God's submission to sacrifice. No one took his life- he laid it down. God submits to death.  And at the center of it all stands the cross.

I think we've become too comfortable with the cross.  We've tamed it and simplified it so it looks good on our walls, compliments our flower garden, and spices up our outfit as a crystallized accessory. We've forgotten, or maybe chosen to forget, the scandal of the cross.  This object that we've become so familiar with, that decorates our homes and stands at the center of our houses of worship, is nothing more than a torture device.

In Jesus' time, a cross was not looked upon with fondness of heart.  The cross conjured up images of disfigured, beaten bodies, streams of blood flowing from hands and feet. One could hear the sound of agonized screams of pain, or staggered breathing as those hours from death struggled to breath. One could smell the feces, the urine, the vomit as criminals nailed to the wood lost control of their systems, their bodies shutting down. Rome, who made torture an art form, considered the cross to be their masterpiece, their magnum opus.

That we have crosses on our walls, jewelry, clothing, or back windows of our cars is akin to covering our possessions with pictures of the electric chair. We do well to remember that the cross is not first, a religious symbol that brings peace, but a symbol of our wickedness, our depraved nature.

Although it is a symbol of ancient forms of torture, today, it IS a symbol of peace and love, that salvation has been accomplished. When we look at the cross we see that the evils of this world, the sick and twisted ways we perpetuate violence day in and day out, will never have the last word.  No matter what depths we may stoop to, we see, at the cross, the love of God descending to our level, grabbing our face in his hands, and speaking three simple words - "It is finished."

The cross is a reminder that even the darkest forms of humanity are not averse to the light of God's redemption.  The light always overcomes darkness.  And though darkness covered the land at Christ's death, the light that breaks the dawn on Easter morning reminds us the resurrection is just around the corner. So this Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday, may we be simultaneously made uncomfortable and comforted, repulsed and invited, saddened and overjoyed, at the sight of the cross