Thankful.

This has been a long time coming. It’s been months since I poured out my heart via this webpage, but my heart is overjoyed and bursting with thankfullness for so many things.

Today is March 21st, 2011
Currently I’m sitting at the window of Empresso Coffee house located on Stockton’s Miracle Mile. People are talking, background music is playing, the slams and the sound of coffee grinding fills the room. One might say that this is like organized chaos.

It’s Monday morning and the people here are choosing to spend their morning here to prepare for the hustle and bustle work week. I’m sitting here watching cars go by and watching people walk in the door and am finding myself in awe and in amazement that there are so many different types of people in this city. People with different backgrounds, different perspectives, different lifestyles, different economic statuses, different nieghborhoods, different goals, different personalities, different interests, different hearts.

It really amazes me that God knows each and every one of these people intimantley and loves and adores them.

As I look at my own life, I realize how my life in alot of ways has been like this coffee shop. My life, like this place, has been organized chaos. Just here me out. There have been so many things which have taken place in my life which in some ways have shaped me into the person I’ve become. There have been times that my heart has been put to the grind by the gnarliness of life’s trials (kind of like the coffee beans being grinded) but in the end there’s something beautiful, something refined and something that’s able to be enjoyed. In another sense, I think about the countless numbers of people who have been involved in my life in some aspect or another. People with differing opinions than my own, differing goals than mine, differing perspectives than mine, and people with differing personalities than my own. Like this coffee shop, in my life, people have played an active roll. People come and sit and drink, some use the space, some help out around the shop, some support and promote, and others may find a sense of comfort here. In my life there have been people who are just simply there in my life. There are those which help build me up, support me through my darkest times and those who constantly point me to Jesus. They encourage me, they pour into me, and they treat me like a brother and friend. There also have been other people who I’ve been able to pour into and encourage and love. In my life there also has been “Background noise”…something which I like to see as the subtleties of life. The fun times, the boring times and the times which have left me satisfied and overjoyed.

This building cannot be called a coffee shop without the grinds, the chaos, the background noise and the people. If people didn’t come here and converse and enjoy it, these doors should just be closed.

I’m not saying I find my satisfaction in people or the business of life, I find that in Christ but what I am saying is that I’m thankful that those people are in my life.

I turn 23 years old today and can honestly say, my heart is resounding with joy, knowing that my life thus far has been filled with great people and great memories. So here’s to another 23. Love you all.

Why We Fight… and Why We Fight With Love.

Memorial Day.
Today, once again, I was put in check.
Not by a friend, pastor, parent or any person for that matter, but by a familiar portrayal of World War II.

In 2001, a series called “Band of Brothers” was released.
Many analogies and references have been used by this gripping documentary since its release and still its moving and truthful portrayal of the war blows me away.

After a long day spending time with family and friends celebrating our “Day off” because of Memorial Day, I turned on the tv and stopped the channel as I was flipping through meaningless shows. I immediately was at ease when I realized Band of Brothers was on. Ease only for a short minute. What I then saw “Put me in check.”

It was an episode called “Why We Fight.” The American soldiers stumbled across something that would change their motivation and hearts during the war. As they walked through a suspected burned down town with guns in hand, as smoldering buildings lay in ruins, they soon realized this was no town but a little glimpse of hell. The troop of soldiers at this point had no clue as to what they were about to witness due to the fact that they had never seen nor heard of what Hitler was keeping under wraps in these Death Camps which sat right outside of German towns.
Young men with uniforms held their stomachs as they strolled through these camps gazing into the eyes of men and women who had stared “Death” in the eye. At the sight of these young American Soldiers, the prisoners who were treated like cattle and worse by the Nazis had a glimmer of hope. They for once in three years had some light shine on the darkness which enslaved them leading them to the slaughter. One might say that they were rescued.
In the following scene, a few men were ordered to get food and water for the remaining survivors. As they gathered bread and water from a near town, they ran into a man who was a bread baker. As they snatched bags of bread from his little store, he faught with them cursing them in his native tongue. (German) One soldier gripped by the reality of indifference these people had to the lingering, horrific, smell of death that had loomed over their town for three years, grabbed his pistol and “called it like he seen it.” “You knew where that smell came from, You Bastard!” (Knowing full well that he, just like the others in that town, were responsible for the deaths of the Jewish people held in that camp. Not just the Nazis.) These were a few words that expressed the mear anger this young soldier quickly built up just by seeing what he just saw in the camp.
In the next scene, as shots of dead bodies and rotting flesh raced across the screen, the soldiers start feeding the remaing Jewish captives back at camp. As the survivors are partaking in something so foreign to them over the passed couple of years, (Food) a colonel then comes up with a doctor and orders the soldiers to stop feeding them. The doctor stated that since these people were starving, feeding them too much would cause even more damage and possibly kill them. The colonel then orders a young Jewish American Private, who was a translator, to tell the captives that they would need to go back into the camps until more help had arrived. As the sound of these words ringed from the lips of this reluctant Private, that glimmer of hope soon faded. A sense of false hope for the captives. The young Private is crushed as he takes in what he had just done. He buries his face in his hands and starts crying. I believe these tears fell because he realized the direct effect of this indifference. Although American forces didn’t turn their backs on these survivors and the orders of the colonel were legiment, I seen the parrellel between the meaning of those words for the survivors and how religion has had this same affect on a hurting and starving people.

I know you, the reader, are wondering how this put me in check. Truth is, the parrallel between this false sense of hope offered to the survivors still happens today in something so near and dear to this country. Church.

The church in American over the passed couple of centuries can directly relate to the Bread Baker in this story. Religion has gripped churches all across this country and in a sense, allows them only to offer false hope, (like the orders of the colonel.) Religion offers empty promises of “Better Lives,” only if they follow a set of rules or doctrine. This is motivated out of fear and self righteousness. The same fear and self righteousness that developed indifference in the hearts and minds of the people like the Bread Baker. They might have been afraid that if they stood up against this evil, their lives would be at stake. Or they might have thought that the Jewish deserved what was happening to them because they weren’t part of this “Chosen Race.”

This is like the lame man signaling for Jesus to come to him. Then as Jesus starts walking to him, the man starts to see a sense of Hope. Jesus then reaches out His hand. Then immediately He has a change of heart, quickly turns and then walks the other way. As every step of Jesus’ feet hit the ground, the hope this lame man just had, is crushed. As Jesus’ disciples just witnessed this, they run to Jesus and ask Him, “Lord, why did you turn your back on this man and not heal him?” Jesus turns to them then says, “For this man must have had sin in his life, therefore if I touched him I would be made unclean. I would no longer be acceptable and Rigtheous to my Heavenly Father, for I fear that if I heal him, I would be cast out of Heaven.” This is a false sense of Hope.

This I can honestly say was never the motivation for Jesus. He wasn’t gripped with fear and self rigtheousness. He knew He was capable of healing and did. He never intended His church to have this same mentality of offering false hope to unbelievers because of the law. Sadly, religion has skewed the true Hope only Jesus can offer. Like the neglect and indifference of the people of those towns surrounding the concentration camps, religion, is just as responsible for the hurt, pain, and death of the people of this country. The False Hope offered by religion, pushes people farther and farther away from Jesus. Leading them to find their satisfaction in things of this world, which only leaves them starving. Jesus, being the Bread of Life and Living Water fills any starving heart. Unlike the situation for the survivors in the concentration camp, Jesus can fill an empty heart and won’t cause more damage, but makes the heart new. He is the sustanance that our hearts long for.

The amazing thing is, is that Jesus hears every cry in the dark, He knows of every starving soul, He has the key to every shackle which binds up you and I, and can’t be held back or taken away like the food from the starving survivors’ mouths.

As His bride, His Church, we can’t allow fear and self rigtheousness to order us around only allowing us to offer false hope. We can snatch the bread out of the starving people’s mouths. We need to remember WHY WE FIGHT AND WHY WE FIGHT WITH LOVE. Like the young soldier who translated the orders of the colonel, I put my face in my hands and cry. I cry and repent because I have been guilty of allowing fear and self righteousness keep me from putting my gun in the Baker’s face and “calling it like I see it.” I have once been bound to religion but I will be like that young soldier and be “righteously angry” because of indifference and how fear and self righteousness has plagued the Church of Christ. I won’t allow the lingering smell of death cripple me from picking up my sword and fighting.
Dear reader,
Please, please, please remember that religion is not of Christ. He fought with love, not laws. People never made it to Heaven because of following rules, but because of His Grace And Love. As the Church, let that be the motivation of our lives. The Gospel. What He Did, not us. Don’t be motivated by fear that God won’t approve of you because in reality, He already has, Just as you are.

I guess this Memorial Day has lived up to its name.
I’ve remembered what happened in battle.
I’ve remembered the LIFE that was sacrificed for my freedom.
I’ve remembered that Jesus has done it all.
And I’ve remembered the reason “Why We fight…and Why We Fight With Love.”

Saying Farewell to the Future of Stockton

“We have had the time of our lives
And now the page is turned
The stories we will write
We have had the time of our lives
And I will not forget the faces left behind
It’s hard to walk away from the best of days
But if it has to end, I’m glad you have been my friend
In the time of our lives.” Tyrone Wells- “Time of Our Lives”

When I think about the future of Stockton, I see great things being done. I see cultural barriers broken, racial boundaries trampled on, social statuses done away with, economical and physical needs met. I see ONE PEOPLE. ONE GOAL. ONE CITY. ONE PURPOSE. I see chains broken. Joy restored, I see community and commonality. Seeing these things in a city like Stockton might seem like an empty vision that may never be fulfilled, but I believe it will happen.I believe we aren’t too crazy to hope for this type of a future for a hurting city. I don’t know what the future may hold, but I know Who holds the future.

When I think of the future of this city I think of 1,500 Plus kids. Maybe more.

Over the past four years I’ve been able to “do life” with young individuals who call Stockton their “home.” I have had the great honor and privilege to have spent time with and have had the opportunity to make memories with some of the coolest kids. Yes they are children. Children who will directly impact the future of this city.

I’ve spent time in school yards feeling the heart beat of the youth of Stockton. A pulse that has kept beating despite attempted attacks to stop the substance of life. Situations and injustices have tried to pin these kids between a rock and a hard place. The reflected behavior of a “Broken People” has tried to sway the hearts and minds of these kids. Robbing them of their  joy and child like faith. It’s safe to say that as years have gone on, the kids of Stockton have had to “fend for themselves”, (so to speak) seeking out what’s right and wrong, what’s real and fake, what’s true and false, what satisfies our needs and what leaves us empty. As generations which have gone before, we have put ourselves before the wellbeing and future of our kids. We have neglected and have been indifferent to the needs and guidance these kids are due.

I have seen this “neglect and indifference” in its entirety. I have seen the wounds, and the scars that “Neglect” has given to our kids, first hand. I’ve helped aide and “bandage” up some of these wounds, as I’m sure others have helped out too. But still there’s more wounded than we can ever imagine.

As the school year reaches an end, I can’t help but reflect on how good God has been over this past year. I think of and reflect on the stories each one of those faces represent. This past year I have had 92 precious children walk into my program. 92 kids who each have different stories, different pasts, different goals and different futures. They all share one commonality though. They all are kids.

When I think of my childhood, I immediately think of the good and bad memories. Memories filled with lots of laughter and plenty of tears. Memories of late night games of “hide and seek,” times spent throwing a baseball, times spent running around with not a care in the world. Truth is, the majority of these kids I’m talking about haven’t had memories similar to mine. I think of three siblings who were in my program this year. After bouncing around from foster home to foster home, they finally wound up in a loving home where the promise of “Family” isn’t too far gone. I think of the hurt they still hold. The insecurity  of not knowing if they are really “wanted” or “loved.” These three are all different but have shared the same experience. One boy still holds onto the anger he developed because of not feeling wanted. These things aren’t uncommon wounds that these kids have.

On the flip side, I’ve seen joy in its full effect. During this past year, I’ve been able to throw kids over my shoulder and run and jump, sparking tons of laugher. I’ve shared “yo Momma” jokes with the best of them. I’ve received some of the coolest and creative pieces of art any one has ever seen. I’ve held the hands of a “little bundle of joy,” named “Terri.” I’ve sang out loud alongside some of the tiniest voices. I’ve had the privilege of wiping tears, giving counsel, receiving a “high-five,” throwing a paper air plane, figuring out a simple math problem, wiping a snotty nose, tying tiny shoes, and teaching kids how to have fun. I have been put in my place by a 6th grader because I didn’t hold true to my word. I’ve played catch with, struggled with and rejoiced with these kids. I used a bit of my knowledge and past experiences to lead and guide a group of friends to “befriend” another. I shared my life, and opened “my book” to them. I conversed with; a future doctor, a future policeman, a future mom, a future dad, a future pastor, a future politician, a future nurse, a future “professional video game designer,” a future skateboarder, a future big sister and a future friend. I have had the great opportunity of getting to know each one of these kids. I’ve been able to take a glimpse into the future of this city. Only by the Grace of God and great love Jesus has for me, can I recognize that these memories have made up a great chapter of my life. Not only did these kids learn from me, but also I learned a ton from them. Truly, I am grateful for the time spent and memories made over this past year.

As I’m writing these words I don’t know if I’ll ever see the full effect and impact I’ve made on these precious kids, but I do know this, I will always know and cherish the times I had and memories made with the kids of Ansel Adams Elementary.

Just today I thought of my sixth graders and how they are growing up. I may never see them in the future, but I hope and pray for the very best for them. I pray that they will choose to take the road less traveled and turn from things which have for years enslaved the young people of Stockton. I hope they keep their joy and one day come to know where that joy comes from. I hope they never stop striving for their own personal best and that they will one day lead and guide the generation behind them. That they would run hard, laugh harder and love till it hurts. As for my other younger students, I can’t help but laugh and giggle as I think of the great times we’ve spent. They’re the rulers of the playground now.

I wish you guys could see the joy that I have of just thinking about some of the things we have done.

Next year I’ll be moving on to another batch of students, probably at another school across town but this must be said…As this chapter ends…

We have had the time of our lives, now the page has turned, the stories we will write, we have had the time of our lives, and I will not forget the faces left behind, it’s hard to walk away, from the best of days, but if it has to end, I’m glad you have been my friend in the time of our lives…

I am truly excited to see the effect these young kids will have on the future of Stockton. In years to come, the relationships between me and these kids just might shape and effect the decisions they make. I will never know. Although there is tremendous joy in my heart in sending off some of these children, I will deeply miss each and every one of them. I can name them all, and one thing I admire about each and every one of them but that would take forever.

These recent words I know are scattered and random but I hope that you, the reader, can see the importance of our children. There is not one young person who is out of reach, or too far gone in order to reach out to. Please, please, please pray for and live out the Gospel, so that these kids can see it plain as day. Love them, protect them, fight for them and remember to act like them every once in awhile. After all, we were once right there with them. Don’t be indifferent, don’t neglect. Step in and bridge the gap. Place their hands into the hands of Jesus. Love.

A Mother’s Love

Here in American and in other nations around the world, we celebrate “Mother’s Day.” I don’t really know who started this holiday or when it was first celebrated but it’s a good little reminder once a year to appreciate the hard work, diligence, and love of Mothers.

First off I would like to say that not everyone has or had a “Good Mother.” Having a Mother is not a right, but a great blessing from our Great God. Yes, everyone has been brought to life through the means of a Mother but our society shows that having a Mother is not ” a given.” So to speak. So when I here stories or see the works of a loving Mother I thank God and rejoice with those who are privileged to be blessed with that love of a Mother.

As I mentioned earlier, “Mother’s Day” is a small reminder once a year of how thankful we should be for our Mothers. This is not enough, considering all that Mothers really do for their children.

When a woman is pregnant and is giving birth, we say they are in “Labor.” It is just that. From the beginning to the end, it is labor. They set the tone of the work that they are committed to for the rest of their children’s lives.

Time and time again we as children forget of this labor that for them, is something that comes with few to no complaints.

As for me, I’m guilty of putting myself far above anything my Mom would ever deserve. I know clearly that not all Mother’s strive to raise their children with love, patience, and comfort, but for some, they really do.

My Mom time after time has put her childrens’ wellbeing at the top of her “unselfish list of things to do.” I’ve seen my Mom at her best and worst moments and have never heard her talk about giving up on me and my brothers. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve tested her patience, caused her to loose sleep, drove her insane, and mock her with our actions, but still she  would stand firm holding up our arms. Without a doubt there is not a woman alive who can loves her children like my Mom does. This sounds so cliche’, but hear me out…

Growing up, my Mom, Carla was the youngest of four children. She didn’t have anything promised to her growing up. Beaten up by the world, she stood firm. She rose from the ashes and overcame societies plight and smothering. Like a jewel amidst the rubble, she started to shine when gazed upon, even now she shines as I gaze upon what she’s done for me and others.

Truly I am a horrible son. I couldn’t do anything to fix my condition as such. Thankfully she doesn’t see me that way. Instead she sees a little boy with bright eyes and  little hands which she has taught to fight with. She sees another great opportunity to pour out her love by showing me how to treat and respect a woman, starting with her.

My Mom is a rarity. She doesn’t put on a front for no one. She can take a beating and dish it right back with love. She doesn’t back down or sway. I recall one occasion where she told a “Hell’s Angel” to shut his mouth, with some brash words might I add, because he used the Lord’s name in vain. This rigid, gargantuan of a man stood there with his jaw on the ground and  began asking for forgiveness. He stared at my Mom and was taken back because he, up to that point was never put in his place. My Mom is hard. As hard as she may seem to the outside world, she’s still sensitive. She’s sensitive to the needs and wellbeing of others, not just us boys. She has given us everything us boys have ever needed to go out and live life. She’s cared for, nurtured, held, and comforted us when we were sick. She helped us see who we really could be if we got passed just thinking about ourselves. She was the best example of this by always putting others before herself.

I think of her influence on our neighborhood. With kids running around all day making noise, raising hell in our front yard, up and down the street, she just sits and invites them over to talk or to enjoy an ice-cream. I know she doesn’t get no satisfaction out of putting others before herself because honestly she knows Who she is pleasing. She knows she’s a daughter of a King and can never match up to His love, but knows that because of that love, she can share it the best way she knows how. She really does care for people, no matter who they are.

I think of our next door neighbors. A young family with four children. When the dad was away for work, my mom would help out the mom around the house with the babies and invite them over for meals, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be able to eat because we only had enough for them. Without hesitation, she would pick up the kids from school when the mom would call from work saying she would be late. My mom had no problem having these kids over and feeding them when they got out of school. She’s living out the Gospel whether she knows it or not.

Everyday I find myself amazed at how close this woman gets to hitting the mark. For most, we are way off when it comes to loving others but she’s as close as she can possibly get.

Honestly, I didn’t write this blog to boast about how great of a Mother my Mom is. If that were the case I can list all her good deeds because I have watched close and taken note of how much her life looks like that of Christ. It truly blows me away. My Mom is no angel, believe me. She’s far from perfect. To to those that really know her, they will always know that she has their back no matter what the case. My Mom loves.

I believe that I can recognize this love because I know Who love is. Jesus.

If anything, let these words be a reminder to you that the love of a mother is a mystery. A love worth recognition. Not just one day out of the year but everyday. While you’re at it thank Jesus because He is the true author and perfector  of love. His loves runs deeper than any Mother’s ever can and is the only reason why any Mother can ever love her children the way she does.

Mom,

Thank you. Your life as an open book has made me realize that this life is not about ourselves. Our own goals and satisfaction are not to be held tightly. Thank you for all you do. When I one day understand the reason why you love me the way you do I will scream it from the mountain tops. For know I truly don;t know why. You amaze me. Beautiful in everything you do. I love you.

Your little boy,

Billy Joel

The “Retreating Gates of Hell”…

Compassion:

Deep awareness of the suffering of another, coupled with the wish to relieve it.

“Gates” – As Cities Burn

“We will wear compassion,
We will wear it,
And the gates of Hell,
Won’t stand against it,
They won’t stand, they won’t stand against it.”

Recently I’ve been burdened to share what has been going through my mind over the past few months. I’m not a super “Spiritual” person so to speak. I mean I love Jesus and see His working hand throughout the day, and notice different things most others wouldn’t normally see. I pray and read my bible, and look for opportunities to share the love of Christ in the most practical ways, but still I don’t consider myself as this “Spiritual Guru”. I don’t need to get my “Holy Spirit fix”, or need to do “deep inner reflections” and meditation everyday to recognize my need for my Savior’s love, strength and guidance. I believe He lives inside me and is constantly with me, so therefore there’s no need to seclude myself and chant, and sway in order for Him to show up. Calling myself a “Spiritual Person” would discredit the fact that I am human, which is changed by the Love and Deed of Jesus Christ Himself. I’m real. Once a sinner, enslaved to sin and darkness until His Light burst forth and penetrated the inner core of my heart, cleansing it of all its filth.

I’m not spiritual but moved by The Spirit. Being a spiritual being could mean I give my allegiance to any form of a spirit, so therefore I refuse to be called spiritual. I live on Earth and recognize that there is a spiritual realm where the angels of darkness, without ceasing, try to enslave and oppress the people in which God longs to be in relationship with. In this realm, God’s angels, through His strength, combat the schemes of the prince of darkness. His army has yet to fail nor will it ever. The victory was won. Jesus our Savior conquered everything Satan threw at Him. He reigns and has dominion over all beings with authority, Satan included.

Luke 4:1-1 After being tempted by Satan, here’s Jesus’ response. Bold.

Verse 8: And Jesus answered and said to him, “Get behind me ,Satan! For it is written, you shall worship the Lord your God, and Him only you shall serve.”

Every time I read this I see Jesus clear as day. I envision Jesus with fire in His eyes, standing firm in Satan’s face. I see Satan hanging his head taking the rebuke, his blood boiling because he knows that even though he’s ruling the Earth now, his authority is still under that of the Most High. God still uses what Satan wrecks and draws people closer to Him. What we neglect to think of is the fact that even though Satan is talking to Jesus, he’s still as distant as anyone can get from God. He’s separated from Jesus.

When we think of demons and their manifestations, we as humans develop fear. As Christians, who are the very dwelling place of our God, we can stand firm in the fact that we will always be separated from them. They can’t touch us, nor can they overcome the power of the One who lives inside of us.

The gates of hell will not prevail.

I think of two magnets, how when flipped one way they attract each other but when flipped in the opposite direction, actually repel the other. This reminds me of the spiritual realm. We combat, fight, restrain, and cause retreat to the gates of hell with prayer and our reliance on Jesus. As long as the church of Christ pushes, the gates of hell will be pushed farther and farther back. They will have less territory, smaller boundaries, and no claim to the people.

As I have been listening to the song I have written at the top of this page, I see the Bride of Christ standing at those gates yelling those words. With our compassion, which is made possible because of the love of Christ, we stand. Standing firm. Standing boldly. Standing unafraid. Standing in awe of the beauty of Jesus’ holiness, and the splendor of our King. All while driving the gates of hell into the sea.

As we stand and proclaim the Victory over sin and death I see the Satan’s legion, trembling. I see their grips on the people weakening. I see lives being made new, chains broken and captives set free.

Our Compassion intensifies the blows to the gates of hell. Satan can’t stand to see God’s children loving on his captives. As he tries to swoon and manipulate his captives, genuine compassion reveals the lies and deceit of his schemes. The gospel lived out is the parallel to God crushing the serpent under His feet.

So remember, every time we share the Love which we have been bestowed, we have pushed back the gates of hell. Not only are we glorifying our God, but we’re also smiting the evil one across his face.

Be encouraged my friend, do not let the schemes of the evil one oppress you. Stand firm and remember Who’s side you are on. Victory is ours. The fullness of joy is granted to us, claim it, own it, and embrace it. Love.

The Lord Gives and Takes Away…Grateful That He Gives.

Sadly, the first clustered words I want to share about this new year has to be about Tragedy.

I’m writing this from a place of brokenness but my soul is at rest in the peace and comfort only offered by the One who we call JESUS.

Tonight a suffering woman received a call.. She had been anxiously awaiting the invitation to go and dine with one of her good Friends. She finally received the call. The voice on the other line wasn’t a co-worker, or friend from across the sates, but the same voice which spoke the Universe into existence. This voice has been the whisper in the wind, the sound of thunder and the music in our  hearts since the beginning of time. This voice is the comfort to the ones who are burdensome, the vision to the blind, the the peace to the weary ones, the rest to the restless ones and the Hope for all nations. This voice is the same one which calmed the seas, the same one which cried his first cry in a manger, the same one which was heard from the mountaintop and the same voice which whispers His banner of love over you and I. This voice is that which comes from The Christ.

I received a call about a quarter to 8pm this evening, and on the line was my crying mother. I was across town sitting in a room with fellow believers just longing to see more of this VOICE. She told me to come home and that she needed me, through the sobbing. I had to leave knowing that my grandma had been in the hospital and recently had been doing worse and struggling to hold on. Before I left, my brothers and sisters in that room prayed for my grandma, my family and myself.

Death has always been something that has plagued my life, in my short time here on this planet and I have grown pretty cold towards it. Mainly because I know the hope which I have through Jesus, who says that sin and death are for the old me and I’m not bound to them no longer. Praise Jesus. But death still is a part of the conclusion of this earthly life, and it still takes its toll and inflicts pain.

Prayer has been the one thing that has kept my eyes on the Giver of Life, not just the Taker of it. I know God holds all things in His sovereign hands, and gives and takes away. Praise Him for His giving. I am no longer focusing on the taking.

He’s blessed me with a grandmother who was one of my biggest fans in everything I did. The care and nurture I had received from countless moments spent at Nana’s house will never be forgotten. Although those times are now gone, they once were given to me, and forever I am grateful. She loved me, and spoke highly of me to her “gal friends.” We watched primetime television after a hard days work, while enjoying bottomless bowls of ice-cream when I would visit her. When I was at her house, I was welcomed, and urged to be a man. Whether cutting fire wood all day, repairing the house or out hunting those “Pesky Woodpeckers,” the times I spent with my Nana, helped shape me to be the man I am today. For that I am forever grateful.

I loved her and will miss her but I know my God doesn’t just “take away” without the “giving” first.

So right know she’s probably wrapping up the evening with her good friend Jesus, enjoying the sweet drink, and endless mounds of ice-cream.

Dear reader, I encourage you to look at your life. Step back and ponder. Think of those things God has given you and noticed how they outweigh those of which He has taken away, for He doesn’t just take to keep for Himself.If that was so then He wouldn’t of had to give His son Jesus. God is good, and He is Love.

This state of brokenness that I am in is okay with me, because it’s times like these where I realize that HE GIVES.

Sublteties

According to Webster’s Dictionary:

Subtlety- (n.) The quality or state of being subtle/Something subtle

Subtle- (adj.) difficult to understand or perceive.

I like this definition. Lately my mind has been in a million different places and back again. It’s traveled to distant parts of the world, near and far, high and low. It’s taken refuge in small villages across the globe. It’s spent time in a little town called Canteranas, Honduras. It’s spent time mulling over thoughts of the homeless in India. It has been hanging out with little children who are dying and afraid. My mind. My mind has also been here in Stockton where I see God move and work daily. Also where the enemy has been taking captive thousands of precious people. My mind has fought for and related to these people. I’ve tried to put myself in the place of these people all across this town.  From the suburban communities where five bedroom homes are the norm, to the back alleys of Wilson Way, where prostitution and drugs are widely accepted. I’ve thought of children playing in the school yards, men who congregate outside liquor stores, families who dine in restaurants, people who walk down the street and those who wander aimlessly in life. My mind has been forcing itself into these places and the hearts of the people who live in them. My thoughts have been one big blur lately. Nothing too clear. I think the only clear thing I’ve been able to picture is the hurt and pain. It’s so easy to focus on these things. Lately I’ve been trying to adjust my lens to see the clearer, brighter, sharper picture. I’ve had many moments where I have seen things in “high resolution.” They usually occur in black and white. It helps me see things clearer.

Jesus saw things in white and black. For example, you were either hot or cold. Trusting or doubting. Clinging or holding loosely. For Him, or against Him. I like that. Jesus also saw the Subtleties. He knew that what He had to do on the cross was necessary to carry out the will of His Father, but to us, it was difficult to understand or perceive.  He knew that healing people had to be done, but it’s hard to understand. Why do people suffer? Why is there death and disease? Why is sin so rampant? This is hard to understand. But Jesus saw it all. He also saw the little things in life. These are subtleties. They are very important.

When I started this blog, I titled it “Subtleties in a Big World.”  I knew that one day I would have to elaborate on this for you readers, so here it is.

There are little things in life, little pieces that form the “Big Picture” in high resolution. For you, in whatever stage in life you are, they are different. For example, When you get a chance to sit and rest, your mind will wander. Sometimes it wanders and dwells on current issues or events in your life. Big Things. Sometimes your thoughts are filled with things that normally you wouldn’t think of. Where does this come from? What is it? For me, this is the majority of my thinking. Sometimes, I think of the person who is in the car next to me. What is their name? What are they thinking at that exact moment in time? What is their favorite feeling? What makes them happy? Sometimes I think of the coolest way to tell someone you love them, with little or no words. Sometimes I think of the grass and how it springs up from the Earth. Sometimes I think of the one thing that makes my friend angry, and think of how I will try to avoid that. It’s weird yes. Wrong? NO! These are Subtle thoughts that fill in the gaps of normal thinking. There are certain things which happen in life that we have “pre-programmed thinking” for. Like when you have a baby. You automatically think of how crazy your life is going to change or how are you ever going to love this child like a good parent should. These are easy thoughts.

Subtle thoughts are ones which make life more clearer. Things that are subtle sometimes  go unnoticed or unrecognized. Like when a person opens up a door for you, or when someone tells you they love you, but you don’t notice that it’s sincere. Subtleties make the world go-round. The little things. Like the countless hours a teacher spends preparing a lesson for their students. Or when that teacher tends to not call on that student in the back of the class because he/she knows that student is struggling in math and would be embarrassed because he/ she doesn’t know the answer, but the teacher takes a few moments each day after class to review the math with that student. This is subtle,  something little in the big scheme of things. It’s hard to understand but it’s necessary for the student to excel. There are tons of examples I could use to support my thinking. I’m not trying to stir up conviction or trying to make you think of every little thing. But I am trying to make a point.

Christmas was yesterday. Isn’t it weird how Jesus came in “Baby form?” Why didn’t He come as a grown man to redeem and save the lost. It would’ve been much easier I think. But He came in a small, little, subtle package. So small, humble and hard to understand. But necessary.

So I close with this, “The little things in life are important. Don’t let them go unnoticed or unrecognized. Embrace them and remember they are just helping you see the Bigger Picture.” Life’s crazy, yes it is. I can agree with anyone on that, but somethings are necessary. As hard to understand as they may be, they’re important.

Let the SUBTLETIES of life brighten your view. Put on the Gospel lens and check out the world. It changes everything. Love.

Here’s some quotes: “The next time it begins to rain… lie down on your belly, nestle your chin into the grass, and get a frog’s-eye view of how raindrops fall… The sight of hundreds of blades of grass bowing down and popping back up like piano keys strikes me as one of the merriest sights in the world.”
– Malcolm Margolin

“Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.”
– Vincent Van Gogh

Life of Prayer.

Crushed a lion today, under my feet, saw a guy dancing in the street, leaping for joy, thank goodness You took time to talk to this boy, i’m forever greatful for what You did for me, thank You jesus i can look forward to eternity. Played some songs which brought you praise, together we sang with voices raised, today must have been a glimpse of You, the One who claims to be truth. Stockton o Stockton, this is love.The One who brought peace from above, o Stockton o Stockton, how long will it be? When you see the One True Love, that runs deeper than any ocean or sea. Just take a gander at the love He has for you and me. He rises the sun, sets the stars, brightens the moon, and fills our hearts, love so true, so divine, i can’t believe this love is mine. So I pray that one day, you’ll look passed the darkness of day, see the light that shines right through every failure of me and you. Don’t give up hope, cause, He never gave up on you. Just cling on to the only thing that’s TRUE. His son so right and holy, He took our sin, THIS IS OUR STORY.So lets crown Him Author of these tattered pages, they’ll tell of His love through out the ages. Til the last word is written, we have been forgiven. So let this be our aim, our guide, the One who took a pierced side. On that cross He turned His head, to see me instead, hanging there because of my sin. But He said no, come dine with me in a little paradise place called Eternity. So here’s a boy who can’t be saved by nothing other than Amazing Grace. So free, so abundant, so plentiful, and good, how can it be understood? It’s crazy, it’s nuts, but it’s for us. Packaged and delivered to us broken and weak, this gift that’ll set us free. Maybe one day we’ll be able to pay Him back but for now, He says ”none of that! Just rest and cling to these garments of righteousness, I cover you my son, my daughter too, come to Me and I’ll make you new.” So I speak for my nation, my people, my town, here we are Lord, please come spiraling down, swoop us up on those wings, and fly us away to the holy throne of You our King. I make a bold statement saying this for them, but if You hear me I know You will act. So do it now Lord come like the thief, come rustle this city, shake it likes the leaves. A call for revival is not the plea. But for my brothers and sisters a permanent seat, at Your table, Your city, Your dwelling, Lord if it happens I’ll never stop yelling. So God come do it, right now come quick, because my brothers and sisters are dying and sick.

These words are short of doing justice to the LOVE we have been given. Just remember you are FORGIVEN. ACCEPTED and APPROVED. CHOSEN, TREASURED and HELD. Held by the same hands which formed you in your mothers’ womb, hands which healed, hands which gave, hands which were nailed to that piece of wood. You are held. Your circumstances, your failures, your worries, and your desires. They are all in the hands of a loving Savior. Place your hand in His, and walk with LOVE Himself. Jesus.

Indifference and a Thing Called Love

It’s been awhile since I’ve poured out my heart via blog.
The reality is I’ve been too busy living life to the fullest. So much has happened since I’ve pressed hard on this keyboard. Where do I start…
We’ll go with the tangible, practical, day-to-day things I’ve been revealed about life.

As you all may know, my life is and has been a journey filled with struggles, defeat, Victory, deceit, neglect, Truth, hurt, sorrow, Hope, hate, and Love.
If you think about each one of these words you may be able to associate numerous accounts in your life that describes the full meaning of each of these. For me they are in order. I’ve tried living this life alone. In my own power and strength. Leading me towards defeat with my struggles. But God has won the VICTORY.  I’ve given into the thinking that I am alone and the feeling of being neglected. This was the deceit that the world threw at me. But the TRUTH of God’s word says that He is with me and has gone before me and has already won the VICTORY. “For I am with you.” Even knowing that, I’ve been hurt. I’ve been sorrowful because I gave into the deceit once again the whispering that “if God is good, then why would He allow bad things to happen to you.” My life was filled with sorrow because He took my dad. But there’s HOPE. Hope that one day I will see my earthly father again when I go home to be with my Heavenly Father. Even knowing that, I’ve been hated and have hated in return. I was indifferent to many things and people. This is the very opposite of LOVE. But while I was defeated because of deceit, while I was neglected in the midst of hurt, while I was sorrowful and in return hated the very God who gave me life, I was LOVED. Loved because He desired me and only me. LOVED because His TRUTH gave me HOPE because of His VICTORY on the cross.

This is the very purpose of my being. My life wouldn’t be worth anything if I couldn’t sit here and say that these words which have been my life.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about people. About the people I’ve been around, the people I come into contact with, the people who I love dearly, the people I neglect, the people I pass, the people who hurt and may have been hurt by me.

There’s a saying I’ve heard and have made my aim for living my life the way God has called me to. This saying is, “The opposite of Love, is indifference.” By making it my aim I don’t mean by living a life of being indifferent to the things and people around me. It’s the very opposite. I want to be aware, be sensitive to, and in return be burdened by the hurt and injustices of people. The people I’m blessed by being around or in other words have been divinely placed in their lives to either spark a change or bless by sharing love and truth. I can think of at least 90 people I come into contact with on a daily basis where I’ve been privileged to be in a place of leadership over them. Will I choose to love them or be indifferent to the hurt they hold inside?
I’m in a place of leadership mainly, because it’s my job. I’d like to think of it more as an opportunity though. Working with a group of children for the past four years has been crazy. I’ve met with, counseled, disciplined, interacted with, joked around with, rejoiced with, played with, did life with at least 1500 different kids in the City of Stockton. These kids, each with their own personalities, different backgrounds, different goals, and different lives. The funny thing is that until now I’ve never really realized of what a great honor and privilege it is to do what I do. I’ve had some of the coolest times chatting with these kids. Whether it’s while waiting with them in line for the bathroom, playing basketball, helping them with their homework or making cool arts and crafts. I’ve conversed and invested in literally “The future of America.” It’s crazy. I have had a literal glimpse of the future and maybe I’ve helped shape their minds. I could’ve never done this if I was indifferent to their stories.

I remember when I first started working with kids, when one would tell me something they were going through, I’d just be like uh… cool. I didn’t give them my full, undivided attention. I was indifferent. I didn’t show love. I’ve heard of young girls who were in my program years ago who are now pregnant and in bad places. I feel responsible. I know that it wasn’t because of me they made these choices but I do feel that I could’ve been more attentive to their needs and struggles. I could’ve pointed them in the right direction. Could’ve shed some light on the darkness that surrounded them. It honestly hurts my heart to think of half the stuff these kids go through on a daily basis. Praise Jesus the Word says that He is a father to the fatherless. Broken families are too rampant in this time. Part of me wants to just bring some of these kids home. I would love to take them to a ball game, cast a rod with, or help them fly a kite. I’d love to sail the seven seas on an imaginary boat. I’d love to play “Cowboys and Indians.” I’d love to wake up early on a Saturday morning and watch some cartoons with them. These are some of the things I remember my dad would do with me before he went to be with Jesus. Sadly, some children have perfectly healthy parents and fathers and never get a chance to do a single thing from that list. I’ve realized that these kids aren’t being allowed to be kids anymore.

Our society has been taking a drastic turn in fueling the indifference towards our children. If you disagree just think of what you did as a kid and see if you can find one kid in your neighborhood who does the same things and has fun doing them. It’s sad. Kids aren’t kids anymore, they’re mommy and daddy’s burden.
We can easily slip back into our comfort zones, stare from a distance and see these kids as just another generation of hopeless youth, or we can look close at the individual.
When I think about it, Jesus was always surround by People. People who would look at the cross and turn with shame. He was surrounded by people who were in need of a savior, but still overlooked Him. Surrounded by people who couldn’t even look Him in the eye. But what amazes me the most is the fact that He got close, got His hands dirty and loved. I love hearing about Him roll around with a bunch of stinky, beaten up, good for nothing men. In reality if we were the ones in Jesus’ place, we would have picked some disciples who at least ironed their clothes and got pedicures on the weekends. I love how He hung out with sinners. He didn’t just sit around in the temple preaching to the choir. He wasn’t indifferent to what was going on outside the walls of the temple. He inserted Himself into the lives of the people who would eventually spit on Him at the cross. He got to know them. Ate food with them. He even wept with them. He has compassion. Sometimes we have a hard time empathizing with people who are broken. We find it hard to work up a tear, or an emotion to show that we really care. No need for tears or emotions, we need to just look through the gospel lens and look with compassion. I just read this last night in Proverbs, “ The hearing ear and seeing eye, the Lord has made them both.” How freaking crazy is this? We have ears to hear the cries in the dark. We have eyes to look with compassion. These are the same ears and eyes of Jesus. Being intentional. It’s what we need to do. I heard a man say the other day…”We need to preach the Gospel continually, and every now and then use words.” We need to preach the gospel by our lives. Sometimes we don’t need to say anything.

These kids are just some of the people I’ve been blessed to be around. I continually pray that I paint a perfect picture of Jesus for them each day before work. When we see them outside of the schools passing by would look indifferently or with compassion? I don’t know what God’s doing with the kids of this city, but I’m willing and ready to live a life of love.
We need to be people that understand who Jesus really is. We need to understand who we really are because of Him. We have the ability to place someone’s hand into the hand of Jesus, will I be indifferent and miss out on doing that? Hopefully not.

No more indifference from me.

The Bloodiest Muddiest Battles.

Let me set the stage for you. It’s 2am. Sunday morning. I have another long day ahead of me and the sun is yet to rise. I have to lead  and serve tmrw with kids at the church. I get the pleasure and opportunity to sing to my God all while leading  children in Praise and Adoration to our King who sits on His holy throne. A good night’s rest is probably key in my ability to effectively carry out this task…I’m not getting a “GOOD NIGHT”S REST.” So…You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this blog at such a late hour. For one, the life of a college kid doesn’t take breaks. Two, I’m writing with intentions to get some people to rethink there views on “Love, and Community” And three, mainly because I felt burdened…emphasis on the burden, to write for a cause.

One: my life is far more different from the typical status quo of American college students. No, I don’t go to a prestigious university which promises a life of comfort and solitude once you complete the required courses. I don’t live on a campus where I’m constantly surrounded by the opinions of young people which society says will shape my future. No, I’m not relying on my parents provision to get by, but I am aware of their provision thus  far over the span of my near 22 years, and I’m thankful .I’m not impressed with the educational institution’s view on success. I’m not shaken. I know where I am in life and walk hard towards where I need to be. I don’t live in a dream. I have responsibilities and obligations as a student, brother, son, uncle, and friend and I carry them out to the best of my abilities. I don’t wait for someone else to pick up the slack, so this is why I’m writing.

I hope you’re reading this with open eyes, ears and an open heart.

It’s now 2:15 am and still I haven’t had a chance to lay my head down. I’m tired, weary, beat up and ready to call it quits. But…I can’t. I heard something the other day that got  my blood boiling. That’s an exaggeration. Blood can’t boil. But this got me thinking and my HEART WRENCHED.

Someone likened “community”to fighting in the trenches. Truth is, we as people living in this generation don’t know the slightest idea of what it was like for our soldiers to fight in the trenches. We only have few accounts to look at for a thousand lives represented by those who fought in those trenches.But still we ignore our ignorance to make our justifications sound good. So I’m going to jump on the ban-wagon. Here you go…Doing life as we were called to as God centered community is similar to fighting in the trenches.

Two: The reason why I’m still up is because I’m in the trench and I can’t fall asleep because I hear the sound of a brother slowly dying a few spots over. I heard his cry in the dark and no one rushed to his side to ease him to sleep. So I take it upon myself to be there with him.I’m grabbing my Gun (The Word), and my Helmet and I’m climbing up onto the cold wet mud at the top of this trench. I’m putting myself in the line of fire. I may not reach him. The enemy might hear my footsteps and light up the sky with flashes of gun fire, but I don’t let that stop me. I can’t take this anymore. My legs are beaten and bruised from the barbed wire. (These wounds are My Experience.) But still I run. I’m at the edge of his hole. I’m looking down, looking back. Seeing him there huddled up against the wall and the soldiers across the way who are fixing their sights on me. I leap and land right in front of this young man who is at his end. His voice is that of a child in desperate need of his father. His vision (His purpose) is fading fast but he knows a brother is by his side. He calls out to a young woman he had to leave back at home. She doesn’t answer. Only I. Standing strong in his eyes but  every part of me is broken. I have this to offer. A fresh drink from my canteen (The living water). He asks me my name. I tell him. I’m Joel, the son of a widow, a husband to one wife, a brother to so many, and a friend who will be there for him. His reply is simply, “I’m dying.”

What do you do? What would you do? Would you reply, “I know.” Would you be there by his side? Would you give up? Would you think to yourself that you’re better than him? Would you kick him when he’s down? Would you suffocate him with “I told you so.”

I take his hand into my own. I rest his head on my bloody coat. I tell him it’s going to be “Okay”… I say the battle was lost but the outcome of the war, victory, (Jesus) is on our side. I sing him to sleep while keeping pressure on the hole in his heart (left by “Friendly fire”). As his heart rate begins to drop, i think of the life that could’ve been represented by his loving, humble character. I begin to lose hope. I see the fire in his eyes fading. Hold on. Don’t let go. Hold fast. Daddy’s almost here.

How could I fall asleep when I hear that cry. I received a text. Thought about ignoring it but put myself in the line of fire.

Say what you will, think what you may, but don’t be careless with your love don’t be one who is charged with friendly fire. Don’t narrow your sights too much so that you shoot a fellow soldier who happens to “get in the way”.

Three: That’s my cause.

Now maybe I’ll be able to sleep. If I’m not up tmrw morning don’t bother calling, don’t wake me up, because I spent ALL NIGHT “Fighting in The Trenches.”