This June will mark four years of living in Arizona.

Four long years.

We made a move across the country from North Carolina in 2006 due to my wife’s employer relocating her.  Both of us were born and raised in North Carolina, where the unspoken rule is that you live and die there, living no further than 14 minutes from your parents in the meantime.  Needless to say, our move to the desert was not highly approved, especially by my family.  My wife’s is much more understanding in this area.  Or, perhaps they’re just less vocal than mine.  But I digress.

It felt, in many ways, like starting a life from scratch.  Everything changed: jobs, culture, weather, grocery stores, traffic, churches, and….

Relationships.

Most everything else has been fairly easy to adjust to.  Relationships, however, are a much different story.

It seems like most people already have the maximum number of active relationships that they can handle, and simply do not have any more of themselves to give to a new relationship.  Those with kids tend to typically interact with other folks who have kids, which makes sense to a certain degree.  So, being new to the area and having no kids has proven to create a difficult scenario for my wife and I.  Relationships that we maintain from North Carolina have expectedly become more difficult, as we either communicate via voicemail, text message or social media.  These methods of communication are all fine and well, but they do not replace real interaction with people.

And boy do we know it.

It’s easy to take on a mixture of emotions, including bitterness, loneliness, and my favorite choice: cynicism.

Community seems difficult to have and maintain.

But perhaps it seems this way because we’ve made community about what we can get and how much we have to give in order to obtain it.

It’s quite selfish, really.

There is a cost involved with community.

Time, patience, forgiveness, your own interests.

Grace.

I feel like I’ve been living this “victim” role for too long.  It’s a form a pride, after all.  It’s high time I start to engage with people where they’re at, not requiring us all to be the same.

People in real community should be stronger because of their differences, not weaker.  As believers, we should remember that we all have one thing in common for sure:  the Holy Spirit.

How about you?  What do you think?

What has been your experience in community, both successful and not successful?

image: sam

One of my favorite passages of the scriptures, hands down:

Come, let us return to the LORD.  He has torn us to pieces but he will heal us; he has injured us but he will bind up our wounds.  After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will restore us, that we may live in his presence.  Let us acknowledge the LORD; let us press on to acknowledge him.  As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.
- Hosea 6:1-3

Perhaps you feel torn to pieces lately.  I know the feeling.  Let us press on to know him and acknowledge him, shall we?

Our third day is sure to come.

I believe I remember him doing that some other time, too…

Happy Good Friday! 

Today marks the day that Jesus died on the cross.  A day where things began to change drastically.  On Sunday, we’ll celebrate the day where everything changed.  I’m humbled today when I think of the sacrifice that Jesus made.  And I’m hopeful because he showed that love wins.  Always. 

The series of posts on my journey through this season of Lent came to a close with Wednesday’s post. 

If you’d like to read all of the posts, they are linked below.  Thanks so much for engaging in the conversation.  I’ve tried to capture where my heart has been throughout this particular season of restoration and  I hope it has encouraged and challenged you.  Otherwise, I’m just rambling. 

May the God of the impossible be with you in the midst of what may feel to you like the impossibles of life.  He’s in the business of redemption, and you and I are a part of that, both in our own stories of restoration and in him using us to be a part of that restoration in others.  He’s so good…

Lent: 2010

• Here’s to Death: Lent (part one)
• Here’s to Death: Lent (part two)
• Take Time to Stop: Lent (part three)
• Gaining Wisdom: Lent (part four)
• A Break in the Clouds: Lent (part five)
• Be Thawed & Rejoice: Lent (part six)
• Sometimes I Don’t Feel Him: Lent (part seven)
• A Prayer: Lent (part eight)
• I’m A Restoration Project: Lent (part nine)

I love old cars.

The lines, the power, the heritage- all things I love about vintage automobiles.  You will often find me glued to the couch on Saturdays watching collector car auctions on television, where my excitement level increases with each bid.

I especially love the stories of cars that sat in barns for decades, only to be meticulously restored to better-than-original condition.  Sure, there’s the same model car that has rarely been driven, with only 18,000 miles or something.  One can appreciate the fact that someone knew that the car may have been worth something one day.  But, I would argue that the car was barely driven, and it spent a lifetime just sitting still.  And besides…

Restoration stories are so much better.

It’s not just the end result of the better-than-new car that appeals, it’s the story of how it got to that point.  Often times the person who restored the car will share on how, when the car was stripped down to the bare metal, major issues reared their ugly heads.  Multiple layers of paint and body filler do a pretty good job of creating something pleasant to look at on the outside, only to be decaying from within.  When those layers are peeled back, the truth of what needs restoration is revealed.

At this point of the post, insert my (and your) life here.

This season of participating in Christ’s death have peeled ripped back many layers in my life. Complacency and sitting still has caused the tires to rot and the battery to die.  Being exposed to the elements have brought about a thick, rusty layer of pride, degrading and decaying anything in its path.  The discovery (on this sort of level this season) has proven to be far from a gentle process.  I’m not sure why I was expecting anything different.  All I need to do is look at Christ.  Look what they did to him.  Why would I expect anything easy? Remember, there’s no story of redemption without depravity. If we have nothing to be restored to, why do you and I need restoration?

So restore away, God.  I don’t want to just sit.  Maybe that would mean less risk, but it would certainly mean less living.  Besides…

I can’t wait to tell others the story.

Every detail.  No omissions.

image: sam

Let me just say that this season will not be forgotten.

I hope these posts have been encouraging to you, as I’ve tried my best to honestly share my experience participating in Christ’s death before celebrating his resurrection.  There is a bit more to say in terms of it, but for today, I’d like to keep it simple.  I came across this prayer, and I find it quite fitting these days.

Almighty God,
You know that we have no power in ourselves
to help ourselves:
Keep us both outwardly in our bodies
and inwardly in our souls,
that we may be defended from all adversities
which may happen to the body,
and from all evil thoughts
which may assault and hurt the soul;
through Jesus Christ our Lord,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Take that in.  Rinse & Repeat...