"This Ain't A Game"

People think I'm crazy. Okay, let's be honest, I am a bit crazy. Would I be matty if I wasn't? But that craziness isn't what I'm talking about. People think I am crazy because of my deep love and connection to sports. Sometimes it's brushed off as "oh boys," or being a typical jock/male. But, for me, this love and affinity for sports runs a lot deeper than that. It's about time people start to see and understand why.

The first thing one must come to understand is that sports, particularly baseball, were a huge part of the first 18-years of my life. It all started when I was little.

My brother is 8 years older than I am. I am not as close to him as I was when I was little for various reasons (though I still love him to death), but when I was younger he was my star. Yes he picked on me like any older brother and yes I annoyed the hell out of him like any little brother, but there was more. I looked up to him, especially in sports. My brother loved sports, but he especially loved baseball. He was a ballplayer, and he was good. Anytime he had a game, I was there. I'd be in the crowd. I'd come up to the dug out to give him snacks. After the game I would put on a helmet and run the bases. I fell in love with the game, and it was a connection for me to him.

My dad says he will never forget the day I first took the field for T-Ball. My face lit up, a smile that could rival the sun. I loved every moment, my dream had come true (even through my middle school years, the smile never left when I was on the field. Batters used to get creeped out by the pitcher who was grinning, enjoying every second of life on the field). While some kids had fun, this was the world to me. I remember running around the field playing every position because no one else on my teams seemed to be quite as into it as me. It was my love, my joy. I enjoyed to write, I enjoyed drawing and playing with blocks, but I LOVED baseball. In kindergarten I would always play ball with my friends at recess. When friends came over we would take turns pretending one person was the pitcher and one was the catcher as if it were a real life game. At my grandparents I used to practice all my favorite players stances as I played wiffle ball. Me and baseball went hand in hand.

As I grew older, it seemed to be the most common link between my brother and I. Neither of my siblings are Christians so I couldn't (or didn't know how) to talk to them about the Bible/my beliefs, and my brother is older than I am so I was too young to understand anything else he enjoyed. However, video games and sports I got. I would continue to watch his games, and he would come to mine (which was the second coolest thing behind playing). I would throw the ball against the porch like he did, trying to throw harder than him. I would always try to be better than he was. I could talk baseball with him, even from a young age, because I watched it and understood it. It was a bond between brothers. I never had a girlfriend so we didn't talk girls, I was too young to talk politics, and too young to talk about my beliefs...I think my view on what life is about was always different than his. Baseball was a mutual love.

Now the older I grew, the more I kept things bottled up inside. My siblings fought a lot (though looking back, probably not that much more than any other teenage siblings two years apart), so I felt I had to be perfect to make up for their arguing. If something was ever wrong, I didn't want to tell anyone because then my parents would have three kids with issues (all kids have issues, but I didn't understand this back then). I also put an enormous pressure on myself to excel and be "perfect." To add to this, I haven't been the closest to my parents. It's not all on them or all on me, it's just the way things have happened. So, I kept things inside. I didn't tell others what was going on either. For a long time (even some to this day) I have wrestled with self-esteem and a lot of self-doubt. The Devil has always been good at convincing me people don't really care about me, it's just them responding out of obligation for my asking them how they are doing. It took a lot for me to tell people what was up, I had to save face and they had to show they really cared.


In the midst of all this....I turned to baseball. Sports became my sanctuary. When I was on the field, everything was okay. I lost myself in the routine, in the rituals and superstition. I lost myself in the grass, in the dirt, to the feel of the bat, to the sound of popping gloves. When I was there, everything else was okay. I had a team who cared about me (or at least me playing), and I had something that I was good at, and people affirmed I was good.

I found a lot of my worth, my identity in sports. I was Matt, the baseball player. Baseball was everything. My ability in baseball was going to get me into college, determine which one I went to, and pay for it. My ability was going to become my career/profession. By making it my career/profession, it would be a platform to set myself apart, to not live the luxurious life of a ball-player but to live humbly, spending little and giving a lot. I imagined myself living in rough neighborhoods and giving all the extra money to charity, to truly make a difference in the community and in peoples lives other than simply offering entertainment. It was going to be a platform for me to Glorify God, to change lives. I saw it as a platform for racial reconciliation, as a platform to show my ideas and beliefs, as a platform for people to ask "why is he different," and then to profess who Jesus is. It was a platform to help create change. Sports were going to be my ticket to a wife, as it would help me be in shape and ripped (haha that didn't happen) so I'd be physically attractive, I'd be in the spotlight so I'd gain attention, but then she would see and hear the soft-side as well. It was my everything.

A lot of hard times came, especially in high school, but sports were consistent, I always had my sanctuary. This made my injuries that much more devastating. Missing the playoffs freshman year because of my shoulder, missing them sophomore year because doctors thought I had one of the rare heart-conditions which first symptom is death (luckily I didn't), missing ALL of Junior year and my shot to be recruited because of my shoulder surgery, and missing playoffs senior year because we didn't make em.

Was I good enough to play in college or pro, I don't know. I think in my head I lied to myself and told myself I was a lot better than I was. My freshman year, my coach said if I continued at the rate I was and worked hard, I could probably play Division I, in fact I was one of the few players to go through my school while he was there that had a real chance. My brother thought so too. I look back and wonder if things had happened differently, if I had played winter and fall ball, if I had played for different leagues that could help get me recruited, if I had gone to hitting coaches, or had surgery freshman year and played all of sophomore-senior year, if things would be different. Would I still be playing. A lot of me is thankful for the opportunities I have had outside of baseball, that had I played winter and fall ball or was playing to this day I may have missed. But a piece of me still misses it. The game, the teams, everything it meant to me, the platform it was....I miss it deep inside.

I still find that sports have a special place in my heart. I experience things through them in a lot of ways. Stories can give me goosebumps, get me teary eyed, sentimental etc. But when it's a similar story in sports....it tugs my hearts strings. Invictus, a story of racial reconciliation through sports....chilled me to the bone. Stories about overcoming adversity to make it to the level of the game people are at now....makes me wobbly in the knees. Love stories, sad stories, happy stories, etc. that happen in sports or in the world of sports or using sports just trigger something special. I see sports as being so much bigger and more powerful than the game itself....and as being a platform and arena for bigger more important and incredible things. They are special.

I understand it is not this way for everyone. I love writing and reading poetry. For some people it is music (although music is huge for me too I'm just not good at it). For some it may be art, or theater, or science etc etc. But for me....sports is...it's something more.

I'm sure there are more things I haven't thought of or didn't mention....or haven't even realized yet. And I am sure I sound absolutely CRAZY, but it is me. I sometimes think/wonder if this is why I was injured and no longer play. I clung to it more than God, it was my refuge more than He was. Yes....God gives us things to go to in hard times, but ultimately do we cling to those or to Him? In an odd way....sports were almost a drug, a therapy, and He wants me to cling to Him not them.

I still can't help but wonder if there is a reason I love them so deeply....and feel so linked to them. Maybe this will play out in my future, my career. Maybe I'll be involved in some kind of sports ministry, or coach inner-city baseball for youth on the South Side of Chicago, who knows. Regardless, there will always be a special place in my heart for them.


Call me crazy, it won't be the first time and won't be last. Disagree, think I've lost it, and say "they're just a game...." but to me they are more. To me, the power of sports while on the field, far outreach the confines of the grass, the wood, the stands, and those few hours spent playing. To me....sports speak to the heart in a unique way...a venue for God to do His thing, a vessel for His divine power. Call me crazy....go ahead...that's what makes me matty :)

Yearning to Know [You] More

For a while I have been contemplating the possibility of going to Grad School, but was never sure of what I'd go for if I went. I have this mixed emotion of being ready to be done with school and just learn from experience and real life opportunities, but also liking school and having a place that pushed me, as well as offers resources and forms discipline to continue learning. But what to go to school for?

After the summer in Chicago, I was almost ready to just be done with school and jump into work/ministry/whatever. The thought of Grad School certainly was not n my mind unless He put something on my heart and sparked a new interest. LA Term has been great. I have loved experiential learning, and getting outside the four walled classroom into the world classroom. As people said move to Chicago for grad school, I thought "why go to grad school, I can just learn by doing." And this for quite some time had been my thought. I have flirted with other ideas, as I have began writing more again and my love of writing has really started coming back I have considered going to school for some sort of journalism or writing. Maybe I could become a traveling journalist or write things for organizations websites around the world or in the inner city? Or maybe I could become a teacher of creative writing at an inner-city South Side Chicago school and coach a baseball team? Fun thoughts, but are they truly things I am interested in and crave to learn more about, or is it a skill I semi-want to sharpen because it sounds cool for the future?

For quite some time I have been interested in other religions, but also used to be really afraid of them, seeing them as entirely "wrong" and at times "evil" (I think the church as a while is pretty good at condemning other religions). Last semester was a stretching semester for me, in a beautiful way. For quite some time, and last semester really emphasized and highlighted it, I have been wrestling with God, more specifically with Christianity and Western Christianity. Two classes in particular last semester really drove these wrestling home. The major question that has arisen is, "Who is this God I believe in and lean on." It has not been a questioning of faith or in my belief in God, but rather a questioning of my belittling of faith and God. Am I putting God in a box? Is He bigger than the restraints of the Christian religion?

Last semester I had a class called "Anthropology for Everyday Life." In this class we talked about other cultures, other religions, we had a cultural mentor and attended a religious service other than our own. Over the course of the class, the question arose, Can God/Jesus reveal Himself in ways other than Christianity? If we believe Jesus is the only way, do we believe that His name...and that He in Christianity is the only way? Can people find Jesus and not even know it or claim it, and it not resemble Christianity? This was a difficult question, and one I was not able or sure how to answer. We continued wondering, if all people are made in the image of God, and people have found other religions, can/do other religions have some element of truth, or show some element of God? I think of the division in Christianity alone, and how we love to condemn one another. Do we really believe ONE of our theologies is ENTIRELY correct? I highly doubt it. However, this has not made me lose faith, rather is has made me lean more on Him because I know I don't have it figured out, no person does.

This semester we are taking a class called "Urban Religion." In this class we read about various religions and have site visits at some of their centers/temples or have a Rabbi etc. come visit us. This is not limited to non-Christian religions, as we went to Emmanuel Presbyterian Church (who has a woman associate pastor and are trying to push to make it okay to have an openly gay pastor as well) and an Eastern Orthodox Christian Church (talk about opposite sides of the spectrum). So far we have also visited a Buddhist meditation center and met a Buddhist monk (who plays banjolele, a mix of banjo and ukulele), and went to a Hindu Hare Krishna center. Along with this we have a project where we choose one religion and find a center to visit multiple times, to talk to people and to learn their stories, their connection to the religion, what they believe, their impact on the community etc. etc. We go in groups of two or three, and there is a wide range of religions being studies. We simply have to choose one different from our own. Some are going to Pentecostal and Catholic Churches, some are studying Ekenkar, Buddhism (the list is long). Myself and two others selected Islam.

I personally chose Islam because of the huge tension between Christianity and Islam. Traditionally, these two have clashed. There is a lot of fear around Islam, and I know for me personally, a strong lack of knowledge. I want to learn more about Islam and meet people within that faith to learn. How can I love people as Christ loved if I don't even understand them and their beliefs? So myself and two others are doing our project on the Islamic Center of Southern California.

My first visit there, we attended a short bit of a conference (as the conference changed the usual schedule and what we had planned on doing when we planned to go). This was the second annual conference the center held on contemporary issues in Islam. One thing highlighted was how to deal with "the other," and this notion in Islam or this misunderstanding by others to fear and reject "the other." The speaker, however, highlighted the importance of learning and understanding. She spoke of how she and her father (who wrote some books on "the other" which I'd love to get) dislike the term "tolerance" (as do I). "Tolerance" seems to mean to "put up with." They didn't want to be "tolerated" nor the "tolerator." Rather, they wanted to live in harmony. In order to do so, there need to be understanding, you must learn. They emphasized learning about Christianity, especially from Christians. This was a major call out. Do we ever speak of this in our faith, to learn about other religions and to learn about other religions from people of other religions? Not necessarily to convert them, but rather just to understand and better love them. Interesting....

The second visit, the three of us met with a man named Nathan. Nathan is the director of Youth Programs at the center. Nathan has an interesting story, and had a great deal to day! He grew up in Iowa, with a Baptist minister grandfather and a Pentecostal minister grandfather. His parents were also academic/scholars and smart individuals. From a young age, Christianity didn't fit right or Nathan. While he understood it, he didn't agree with it. He spoke to others about his beliefs and they told him he was a Muslim. Everything he believed in was Islam, so he believed in Islam before he had a word for it. There is a lot more to how he has grown and learned, he is an amazing man.

What really stuck out to me about Nathan, and has helped lead to inspire me, is his declaration that he is a scholar of religion. Growing up in Iowa there wasn't a lot to do other than read, so basically he has read and studied A LOT in his life. Since 15, he has pretty much studied religion/religions. He knew biblical stories better than we did. He knew history. He had travelled to Mecca, and also wants to go to Jerusalem because of the history and to be where this incredible biblical stories took place. as he spoke about his studying of religion, he mentioned that one of his rules is he will not read a book about Christianity written by a Muslim etc. He believes no one can express and talk about their faith and religion with the same amount of passion and conviction as someone who believes/practices it. You can write about it from an anthropological or a sociological stand point, but to better understand you must learn from someone who believes and practices it. While interviewing/talking with him, we asked him what he thought of other religions. Are they wrong, is Islam the only truth, the only way? He said no. "No one can have a monopoly on God" he mentioned. If you believe in God, and that someday you are going to stand before Him and be judged for what you do. He also mentioned that he thought if you believed that, you would stand before God and be judged based on the faith/path you had chosen/fit you. While I do not know that I agree with him entirely on all the points he mentioned, he still had a lot of good points.

Deep rooted in me, and now peeking out, there is a curiosity and fascination with other religions. Whether purely historical or academic, or also to better understand people and their beliefs and rituals, there is something about religions that captivates me. There is something about rituals, traditions, peoples beliefs and the way it moves them and leads them to live life. While I still have time to pray about and truly decide, I am seriously contemplating going to Grad School to get a Masters (and who knows maybe more) in Religion/Religious Studies. While I know I can learn without going to school, and still plan on learning outside of the school setting, school will push me to make those steps. School can help give me motivation, resources, opportunity, and form the discipline I need to continue learning, both about religion and in general. Something interesting about Islam is their lack of clergy, as it is everyone's responsibility to learn and study their faith even more, no reliance on "scholars" or "clergy" to tell them answers. I want to learn/study mine and other religions.

There is some difficulty. As I learn, questions come to mind. Is Christianity the only way? Is Jesus the one true way, and is learning about other religions or learning things from other religions contradicting this belief? What about evangelism and telling people about Jesus if Christianity is not the only way? These are hard questions, and questions that will probably NEVER be answered until death, and even then we will probably not fully understand as we are not God.

I am not out to make my own religion, to convert, or discredit my faith or Christianity. Quite the opposite. It is my deep rooted faith in God and love of Jesus that makes me yearn to know more, to understand more. And I do not believe our understanding of God can be limited to Christianity, as I do not think we can confine God to Christianity. We sings songs about how big and great our God is, and I whole heartedly believe this. I also think we put Him in a box, and He is far bigger and greater than we can know or understand. I am still deeply in love with Jesus. He is my everything. And as I look at how He calls us to treat others, to love others, to reach out to the marginalized, oppressed and poor, and as He pushes us to break barriers...it pushes me to want to learn more about other people, and a big part of that is religion. I do not want to form my own religion, but I also believe God can/probably has revealed Himself in other religions as well, and we can learn from these other beliefs how to better serve God and serve people. I do not know whether or not other religions lead to God or lead to heaven. I do not know if Jesus reveals Himself without the name "Jesus" being spoken and without the understanding of Christian religion or belief. But in order to better understand and love people, and to try and get a bigger picture and understanding of God, I see great value in studying these other beliefs and traditions. I agree with Nathan, I don't think anyone has a monopoly on God, He is too big for that.

I still got some time, but Grad School for Religion/Religious Studies is something that greatly interests me, and something I want to look into.

Simply Longing for Simplicity

I don't know whether I enjoy contemplating...simply staring off into no where lost in my own thoughts. I do know, I can't stop. As the season shifts to "Fall" (Southern California doesn't know what fall is), and as there are a few overcast days, I lose myself in my own mind. I find myself paralyzed by thought. All l can do is sit and reflect. Everything that fills my head seems to be a deep revelation or question. I lose myself in dreams, in music, in my own mind. There are days when all I want to do is sit by a fire, listen to the rain, watch the sunset over the ocean, let the cool breeze chill my bones, ponder...and be. There are times where i feel lost to the world because I am so lost in myself.

Recently my thoughts have taken me to an interesting place; a place of solitude, a place of sacrifice, a place of simple living. It has led me to a thought that long ago started as a seeming joke and has now grown into a full fledged question and prayer for clarity for the future. It began as a simple smart ass remark to get people off my back about girls and lack of relationships, yet now has rooted in me a deep pondering.

At a young age I attended Catholic masses, and have bounced around various denominations throughout my life. While I am certainly progressive in nature, there is something about tradition that captivates me. There is something about entering a Cathedral that gives me chills. There is something about ritualistic prayers, so simple yet profound, that intrigue me. There is something about speaking in Greek and Hebrew, about knowing Latin and finding a deeper understanding of His word that tickle my imagination. Even in studying other religions, traditions and rituals captivate me. While I do not believe that these rituals and traditions are the way to salvation, I find them as incredibly fascinating.

Deep in my heart and soul I crave a life of simplicity. While I gawk at fancy cars, dream of big muscles and the chiseled body, and imagine a life in which I can afford to buy all the movies and music I so dearly love while clothing myself in stylish fitted caps and sweet kicks, at the depths of me this is not what I long for. There are just as many days that I dream of an extensive music collection as days that I contemplate selling my sound system. There as many days that I think of adding to my music collection as there are days I ponder giving up my dvds and ridding myself of a television. There are as many days I think of fancy cars as there are of days I enjoy the possibility of simply walking and riding the bus. There just as many days in which I revel at stylish clothes as there are that I want to merely wear sweats, or a grungy pair of jeans, or more recently a robe. Deep in my heart, I long for simplicity, for a detachment from goods and belongings, for a break from the societal definitions of prosperity and good living.

I am in a constant flux, lost between wanting to do incredible things and wanting to do nothing at all. Everyday it changes, imagining working in Non-Profits, clinging to my dream of professional athletics, dabbling in the idea of being a writer or journalist, possibly a wondering poet. Sometimes it is the image of preaching, other times it is simply sitting by a lake and pondering.

My wandering heart lately has found itself in the land of solitude. I have found deep in my mind and heart a curiosity and interest in the monkhood. I long for simplicity. I long for humility. I long to simply be, to study...ponder, to pray. I long to give up self and world in place of God. This thought came from the idea of singleness and living life without a spouse, a girlfriend, a significant other. Though there is certainly a part of the that wishes to marry, a piece that dreams of a wife and life with her....still there is a deep pondering of solidarity. There are many factors that go into this possibility, but it seems as though this thought of monkhood which stemmed out of a way to jokingly say "what if I don't get married" has become a true possibility and thought. While I still have a lot to pray about, and a lot to look into as to what this life even would look like...there is something in this that intrigues me and pulls a bit at my heart.

Yet, there is a bit of me that tugs back, that questions this thought of being a monk or a hermit. Is this, in fact, a selfish thought? Is it conceivably easier to live a life of solitude? The immediate answer is no. However, I can't help but wonder. Is part of my longing to be away from the pain of the world, and separate from the possibility of my sin and humanity harming someone else? Is my pondering of singleness out of calling, or out of fear of the pain that comes from relationships? Am I selfishly wanting to seclude myself from the despair that is so deeply embedded in our world? And in doing so will I waste my passions and my gifts given by God? How does a monk or a hermit devote oneself to racial reconciliation? Could there be a monk reaching out to gangs in our inner city, and showing them their worth? Do monks come out against the broken systems of injustice? Are there even groups of monks who tend to lean left and are more progressive? In the end, is the suffering of solitude easier to bear than the suffering of community and life in society? Does being a monk even mean to be entirely secluded and removed from society? Could there be an urban monk?

Then there is the question of the power of solitude, of giving up possessions, of living in simplicity relying entirely on God to provide. There is the freedom from societal pressure of work, of family, success/prosperity and opening time to intercede through constant prayer. Prayer is powerful, and what is more powerful than to live a life that is open to these constant prayer without the distractions of normal routines? Is this even what monks do? Or is this a twisted picture depicted in movies and imagination rather than reality? I do not know.

What this wandering soul has lost itself in this time is the dilemma of old and new, of tradition and progression, of different longings and uncertain calling. Will matty p some day become a preacher or teacher, or an activist? Or will he someday become a quite, humble monk? While much is still left unsaid, and not all my thoughts and reflections are complete or brought into words at this time, only time will tell the answers to these questions and reflections. For now, none have been ruled out and I continue to lose myself in the ideas and thoughts.

Fade Into the Background

So often I hear the question, "How is it being the only guy on LA Term?" Girls tell me, "That's too much estrogen, even for me." Guys ask me, "How's bachelor LA, have you fallen for anyone yet?" Everyone seems to think I need or want another guy here with me. Yet, all seem to miss it. God has me here for a reason. God has made me the only guy here for a reason. I would have it no other way.

No it's not because I have my "pick of the bunch" (Haha yea right, just because I'm the only guy does not mean these girls are going to fall for me, just means they have to wait 3-4 months). And currently, I honestly am not even looking. In fact, I am trying to detach myself from the longing for a relationship, and simply live single. No the reason I would have it no other way has nothing to do with ring by spring at all. I am blessed to automatically be on the outside.

While I do not feel excluded, and do not feel as though I do not belong and am unwanted in this cohort, I cannot help but be aware that I am a loner, simply by being the only guy. But this is not bad. In fact, God is doing incredible work in me because of this. My entire life I have wanted to be included. I have longed to be a part of the group. I constantly want in on conversations. I pester people to enlighten me to their inside jokes. I want to feel wanted, I want to feel needed.

I also have had this deep craving to be "the guy." Not the sexy guy, the guy everyone wants, or the guy that is the shit (ok...yes I have wanted to be that guy at times too), but rather I have always wanted to be the guy that people went to in time of need. I wanted to be the guy that people leaned on, the solid rock and firm foundation.

My whole life I have also struggled with attachment. I get connected to people (or things), and have a difficult time letting go. I lean on people or things for stability. I look to people for affirmation, for worth, for identity.

This semester, I am being challenged in all of these. While I wish I could be there for all these sisters, as a guy I cannot be there for them the way they can be there for each other, and it is better as it protects hearts as well. Instead, I am able to sit from the outside and watch this incredible fellowship of STRONG women lean on one another and God, finding strength and power from Him and each other rather than me or men. It is an inspiration, and such and honor to have a front row seat to this sisterhood. Being the only guy, I am also left out of some conversations and jokes. This is important, as it pushes me to being okay once again with being an outsider, with not being in on everything. God is also pushing me to be okay with myself, with being with just me and Him. As I do not have a roommate or a guy to meet up with, I do not have this constant companion. I spend a lot of time alone, on buses, on errands...and this is good, this is necessary. I want to be okay with spending significant time merely me and Him. I want to be ok going to the beach alone, to going to a movie alone, to treating myself to a nice dinner. I want to be okay living a life of solitude, me and Him. These sisters are a blessing, a great community, but they are nothing compared to that of my Father. Life lately has been stripping me of my comforts, of my solid rocks and my stabilizers, replacing them with Him alone. And in this I have found great peace, a Shalom.

I always dream of being in the spotlight, on the stage, in the papers. I imagine myself as the go-to guy, the popular one, the one everyone loves. I imagine myself as the cornerstone of communities and the guy who makes things mesh. Well, I'm not. God is. And He is what I need. So as this semester goes on, as I grow in my comfort sitting on the outside, as I wander around seeking my place and my roll...I find myself fading into the background. And this is ok. :)

A Prisoner of Hope Seeking Shalom in LA

Here I sit in the ungodly heat....dripping sweat, avoiding homework, and thinking of my long lost love....Chicago. In Chicago...it is fall (something that Southern California has no concept of). In Chicago, the sky is probably overcast, the weather cool, leaves beginning to change, football on everyones mind. In Chicago the tea, coffee, and cocoa is ordered warmed rather than "iced" or "frozen," because it is needed to warm the soul. In Chicago...sweats, jeans, hoodies, and long sleeves are appropriate. The South Side of the Chi has my heart....and yet....it does not have me. For you see, Jesus didn't let me stay in the Chi...not for this season anyway.

Rather, He has led me to the South side....of Los Angeles. He has taken me to South Central...a different world from the South Side of the Chi, and yet comfortable and right. In my time here so far, LA has not stolen my heart the way Chicago did within weeks...and now after an entire summer a large portion of me still remains tied with that glorious place. It is a struggle, not comparing here to there....not dreaming of greener pasture and cooler (and cleaner) air. But in the midst of my longing...God has given me peace. For it is here that He wants me...and here feels right.

The more time I spend in Los Angeles, the more comfortable I feel...as if I've been here for years. It's weird...where most people find restlessness, I find Shalom in the city. Never seems to matter which one...there's just something about cities. Not the nightlife....not the money....no, I find it somewhere else. You see, in the place people ask "God where are You, why are You allowing this to happen," I feel Him. In the emptiness of a broken system...in the pain of an oppressed people, of an unjust world, of shattered spirits where there seems to be nothing but despair...for some reason I feel comfortable. Not content or complacent...far from it. I want to see change, I want to flip the systems on their heads. I want to see equality, I want to see a place where "the common good" actually means something, I want radical change. But, to do so....I must be willing to live in the uncomfortable. Comfortable in the uncomfortable....living in the chaos, it's the motto I've come to live by.

And so I am here on my new journey, a wandering wondering soul once again. Though I am not alone on this leg. I am one man (man boy?) amongst 16 women. For some guys this would be a nightmare. For others it would be a dream. For me...it is a blessing. Not a blessing in the "you have your pick" or "Bachelor LA Term Edition" as many have joked of, I'm not looking nor am I stupid enough to show one girl favoritism and spark any kind of drama (though I do not see these young women as that type of group, but you never know). Rather...I have the blessing and privilege of watching a strong community of Godly women form. I have the honor of watching as they build one another up, pushing each other to be strong women of God. I get to see as they are empowered and see their strength as women. I get to sit in awe at a group thirsty for change in a broken world. It is not a matter of "how are you surviving being the only guy with 16 girls," but rather what an amazing privilege it is to see first hand the beautiful work God is doing in these women...and what an inspiration it is to me. As I see a different perspective, as I hear stories shedding light through different eyes...and as I watch this group and how they really do not need me....they really don't "need a man," but rather how much God sustains them and builds them from within....privileged and blessed...I'm a privileged and blessed individual.

As I came to LA, I was wondering how I would be stretched. I love the city...I do the city thing. I figured it would come from being with 16 girls and no guy companion but...this has not been the case. But rather, I have been challenged in small yet large things...and will be pushed in my internship. The largest challenge and smack in the face comes in the form of a challenge to the way I do things...what I want to be and do with my life. Lately I have been missing sports. A major part of it is indeed playing the games, the teammates, the camaraderie. But I think a huge part of it is the spotlight...the attention, the chance to be a hero. I want to change the world. I want to be known for the lasting imprint I have left. Deep down inside...I think of what an honor and how amazing it would be to be mentioned in the same breath as Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Ghandi, Mother Teresa...as agents of change. Yet it is this dream to be spectacular that pins me down. As I interviewed for a non-profit internship, they mentioned what I may be doing. They emphasized this, because for many, particularly white college students...this work seems "beneath them." The white college students want to come in and be the heroes. But with this organization, the movement was mostly women and minorities, neither of which am I. And I began realizing...my place may not be up front. My place may not be using my voice over the microphone to stir a movement. My name may not be the one that is remembered. But this doesn't mean I won't be a part of it, and it doesn't mean I won't make God proud. In reality...I can never be the hero. I cannot be the protector. I cannot be the savior who changes the world....because only God can. He chooses some pieces to make it happen, but it is Him. Regardless of whose name is remembered, it is His work and His glory. And so I sit...learning to be okay with not being the hero, not being the one to change the world, not being the one to flip systems on their head...I'm learning to be ok with laying low, going unnoticed, yet in doing the small things with great love and to the best of my ability...helping do Gods will and being a piece of the movement that flips this world on its head.

Doing the city life, having my heart firmly planted in the urban setting and issues can be difficult, heartbreaking, and make me feel so small and at times like things are hopeless. And so I leave with a quote, words of Dr. Cornel West:

~I use the language of decline, decay, and despair rather than doom, gloom, and no possibility because I think any talk about despair is not where you end but where you start..and then the courage and the sacrifice come in…but at the level of hope not optimism. Optimism and hope are different. Optimism tends to be based on the notion that there is enough evidence out there that allows us to think that things are going to be better, much more rational, deeply secular. Whereas hope looks at the evidence and says “it doesn’t look good at all,” says “it doesn’t look good at all.” Says “we gonna make a leap of faith…go beyond the evidence in the attempt to create new possibilities based on visions that become contagious to allow us to engage in heroic actions always against the odds no guarantee what so ever.” That’s hope. That’s hope.~

Dr. Cornel West says:

"I cannot be an optimist but I am a prisoner of hope"

This is what I want to be. Not an optimist, but a prisoner of hope finding the Shalom of the city as I wander wherever He sends me and wonder at the work of His hands.

Step Out into the Storm

In case you hadn't noticed, the world around us is fragile....ever changing and leaving the heart and mind spinning wildly. The sure bet consistently fails, what seems stable and safe...crashes and falls, leaving confusion and heartache in its wake. Grown men are turned to children...and the only thing that remains constant is the presence of unanswered questions. Doubt and lack of trust seems to be the theme...

Once again, this wandering heart is left wondering about home....about the future...about itself. Doubts creep in, questions dance around my mind bringing storm clouds to a sunny day. Any moment I have to rest is the most restless time I have...unsettled deep in my soul. But God has once again done what He loves to do...and prove himself ever so faithful. Once again...song lyrics jumped to my mind, as He loves to so often speak to me through. This time it rang through the beloved home town tunes of Five Iron Frenzy, and their classic "Every New Day." The chorus leaves the lips of Mr. Roper, cut through the air, slide through my ears, and land in my heart. "Dear Father, I need you, Your strength my heart to mend. I want to fly higher, every new day again." As I sit here and think of my need to be strong for those around me, as I think of the need to be "on," or even the simple desire to be ok....it's not from me. I have a Father who has the strength to mend my heart and heal my wounds...to take this mess and make a new day. As the burdens pile up on my back and my shoulders grow weary and droop to the ground....He increases and lifts me to new heights.

He continues to show me...that in my struggles, in my brokenness, He is strong, and gives me strength from a well so deep, not even me and my misery, my at times self-loathing, my confusion and heartbreak...could tap it dry. So deep, that I myself can not reach down to drink from it, but only when I rest in His huge arms will He open the flood gates and shower me in His grace and mercy. Through the smile of a child, the presence of a dear friend, or the simply because God decided in this moment He wants and needs me to be strong...the burden seems to slip away into His huge arms and is replaced with a strength and peace that I cannot explain.

I find myself most at home in thunderstorms, when chaos is all around, when God's incredible power is shown in the bolts of lightening and earth shattering thunder...when the rain soaks anything daring enough to step outside. And there it is...in the midst of the storms of my life...am I willing to step outside and see His awesome power, majesty, and glory? Can I let go of my fears and my deep desire to cling to comfort and wander out into His rain, allowing myself to be soaked in His shower of grace and mercy? Or will I stay inside, wrapped in fear and anxiety, shrouded in grief and missing out on the freedom that comes with simply letting go and stepping out the door? I want to go dance in the rain.

Peacefully Wandering Heavy Heart

A cherished person in my life asked me..."How's my heart." The question caught me off guard, while it was one I am dearly familiar with, it has been quite some time since I have been asked it. As I look deep into where I truly am at....God gave me the words... "peacefully wandering heavy heart."

Over the past few months i've really been meditating on and struggling with (cuz it's hard) what it means to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep. the things i'm passionate about are hard and depressing, giving me a constantly heavy heart. there are a lot of other longings im wrestling with and some questioning about the future...yet at the same time a sense of peace....resting in the beauty, majesty, and power that is Jesus and knowing i CANT do this....it's only because of Him. that in the wandering, in the confusion, in the heartache, He is goood, He is faithful, and He is ever present. That He loves the broken hearts, is sitting in the SHIT, and is calling me into it. so....yea....im sure there is a lot more to expand on that but thats kinda the sum of it.

And so I continue to wander and wrestle, resting in His grace...cuz it's all I truly know and yet can't even fully comprehend.

Searching for Home

Off in a new land, in my new palace for the summer, and yet I'm right back to my old antics, living in my domain....the late night. The perfect time to reflect on what's at hand....to contemplate, to relax. I can converse with myself in total peace, nothing but myself, a few tunes, Jesus, and the crazy non-stop thought machine that is my brain.

So now that I'm here in Chi-town, I decided to work on banging out a few of my thoughts, to work out everything that is marinating in my mind. The thing I have settled on...is I'm just as lost as I ever was. I have a lot of hopes for this summer, that God would settle in my heart a direction for the future. Three weeks in, and I'm back to dreaming new dreams...with no clear direction in sight. As i left for the windy city, I was looking ahead to my semester in LA, and my 6 months (hopefully) in Kenya. My mind has quickly shifted to the loathing the idea of having to leave at the end of the summer. The city I often called my "second" home has quickly stolen my heart, and begun to feel more like home than anywhere else....

For more than two years (the exact amount of time has been lost to me), I have been a wondering soul, searching for home. Denver will always be my love, but it just doesn't feel like where I'm supposed to be. That old familiar touch reminds me more of a little kid clinging to his security blanket too long rather than resting my head on the bed my Daddy prepared for me. While APU is certainly where He sent me, and where I have experienced incredible growth and met Jesus in ways I never had before, it lacked....something. And so I have wandered, and wondered.....longing for that special feeling of joy, excitement, and peace. I dreamed of big cities, study abroads, distant lands and foreign languages. I dreamed of people who looked and thought nothing like me and yet were created in the image of my Father, and who I am eternally tied to, woven into a beautiful tapestry and whose pain and joy I am bound in. I dreamed of new frontiers, of exotic places...of gracing the cover of missionary magazines and creating a buzz in my local church for the incredible exploits and Godly work I was doing. Here....here I would be home.

So God has sent me all the way to....Chicago, my second city, 1,000 miles away from that security blanket....and it feels exactly like...home. The plans I have made, all of a sudden feel insignificant. The dreams I have dreamt no longer perk my ears and flutter my heart....my soul is playing a new tune. My wandering soul has settled....leaving me more confused than ever before. Lord, is this simply home for the summer? Are you giving me this small taste to remind me to trust to lay my head in Jesus' lap and follow Him wherever He goes? Or is this a calling to lay my head in His lap...right here...and give up those dreams and plans I held...which made so much sense just a few weeks a go. Is it merely my addictive personality that has allowed me to be so present here that the longing for what the future held in distant worlds no longer strikes a cord? Or is there something deeper that has caused this stirring....and giving me this feeling I have been searching for over the past few years? New dreams of settling down in the city come to mind. This place melts and breaks my heart all at once. Is it really going to be over in a mere 7 weeks....?

As I write and think....Lifehouse plays in the background and mirrors my thoughts, my feeling of being so lost and confused and unsure and at home all at once. I'm following Jesus...and He makes such quick turns I can't tell where He's taking me or what's around the corner...I have no idea where I'm going....that security I felt about the next two years is all of a sudden lost.

"I am falling into grace, to the unknown, to where You are. And faith makes everybody scared, It's the unknown, the don't-know, that keeps me hanging on to You."

I am deeply broken and passionately in love....Lord my home is where ever you make it...and it sure feels a lot like Chicago...