I hate when I feel so comfortable with my life. I hate when it feel like I'm just going through the motions. When each day is the same as the last and a template for the next. When each weekend is predictable and ends with a feeling of waste.

But the truth is, I'm a coward. I ask God to shake things up in my life - to offer me new opportunities; ways out of my comfort zone. And when those opportunities are presented, I shy away from them. I make excuses about it not being the right time. I make excuses about the people and things I'll miss. I make excuses that it's just not convenient for anyone.

This perpetuates a vicious circle. I get uncomfortable with the fact that I'm so comfortable with my life -> I look for opportunities to make me uncomfortable -> I get uncomfortable with the idea of leaving my comfort zone -> I find comfort in my static life -> I get uncomfortable with the fact that I'm so comfortable with my life

I know I'm not the only one that experiences this. In fact, I'd venture to say at least 95% of people experience exactly this.

So should I bury the gifts that God has given me? Put them away until it seems like the path is clear and convenient?

Or should I make a move away from comfort? Take a leap, trust God, follow my heart?

The answer seems obvious, right?

Then how come I always seem to pick the wrong answer?

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate winter?  I'm rather satisfied with all other seasons, but I am certain I could live without winter.  Allow me to vent my hatred in list form:

Snow.  Snow is beautiful when it first falls.  Then it becomes grossly soiled and eventually turns into slush.  It makes otherwise competent drivers into out-of-control demolition derby participants.  It makes going anywhere a chore and a life-threatening endeavor.  And it's cold.

The cold.  I can deal with freezing temperatures.  They're not comfortable, but they're not painful.  In Michigan, we tend to drop way below freezing.  So every little wisp of wind feels like needles being jammed into your face.  I happen to have sensitive eyes that become waterfalls of tears when cold air hits them.  This does not help the pain.

My mood.  I'm always down during the winter.  I wouldn't say I'm depressed or sad, I just feel sluggish and energy-lacking.  The sun just provides so much energy and good-feelings, and when it's gone, it's definitely noticeable.

The cold.  Did I mention this already?  I feel it needs to be mentioned again.  I really hate the extreme cold.

It came to my attention a few years ago that there is a solution to my winter hatred: moving.

It seemed like a simple solution, at first.  Find a place that is generally always the perfect temperature (between 65 and 75 degrees) and move there.  I found such a place and began, years ago, planning my move.

Then, I realized it wasn't so easy.  As much as I hate Michigan weather, I love Michigan.  I love the people in Michigan, the places, the nature (in the summer).  I love my family and friends.

So, for now, having those things in my life are more important to me than living in the luxury of good weather. But, maybe one day, everyone I love will realize the same thing I did.  Then we can all move, together, to that place that has it all, including the perfect weather.

I remember the day we got her.  I was 10.  We took a trip to the Michigan Humane Society, all in high hopes of finding an addition to our family.  She was part of an unwanted litter.  She was small, black, and playful.  I remember how she came to the front of the cage to greet us; how she looked us in the eyes.

I remember the day we brought her home.  After days of deliberation, we had decided to call her Scout, after the main character of To Kill a Mockingbird.  She started out as an "outside" dog, but none of us had the heart to leave her out there all night.  So she became a "back room only" dog, but the way she stood at the gate, staring at us, made it tough for us to not let her in.  She became a part of our family.

I remember the day we left her outside while we took a quick trip to the store, and it started to storm.  We came home to find the fence forced open, and Scout was nowhere to be found.  We were all devastated by the thought of losing her.  Only a short time later, we got a call from the person who had found her.  We were all so happy to see her, and she was so happy to be home.  She never ran away again.

I remember the way she always found her way into our home movies, whether we wanted her to or not.

I remember how she would start running around the house at top speed at 10pm every night, right on cue.

I remember the way you would rub her stomach and yell, "Piranah!" and she would turn on her back and snap at the air.

I remember how she started to turn gray as she got older.  I remember how she started to struggle to stand up and walk up stairs.  I remember how she would start choking out of nowhere, sometimes vomiting in order to breathe.

Most of all, I remember just how much love I had for this little puppy that we brought home one day, and how she stuck around to watch all of us grow up.

My dad called me today to tell me that Scout had passed away.  He found her on the back patio, lying next to the door of the house she had won her way into as a pup; the house of the family that loved her as much as she loved us.

I'm going to miss her a lot.

God gave us a great gift; the concept of fairness.  And we grossly misuse it.

Fairness is something we begin to recognize at a very young age.  We can tell when we've been given the smaller slice of cake or a shorter amount of time playing with a toy.  We instantly recognize that it's "not fair!" when we are given something we perceive to be inferior to what someone else has gotten.

And this sense of fairness only grows as we get older. 

So is that why God gave us this ability?  To be able to make sure we get our "fair" share?  That's certainly what we've turned it into.

I thing God gave us this ability so we can recognize when things are unfair for others.

And the truth is, things are so unfair for so many people.

There are more than 27 million people currently enslaved.  27 MILLION! 

80% of those are women and children.

Roughly 84% of countries in the world are involved in some sort of human trafficking, including the US.

25,000 children die each day due to poverty and the inability to meet their basic needs.

More than 1.1 billion people don't even have access to clean water.

More than 80% of the world lives on less than $10 a day.

And we still think it's unfair if we make less than $10 an hour.  Then we turn around, spend that on useless crap, including a $2 bottle of water (ignoring the fact that we can turn on the faucet and drink perfectly good water for about 15 cents).  We go out and drop our paychecks on things we could easily live without, oblivious to the fact that our excessive spending is actually enabling this modern day slavery.  Then we call up our friends to go out for $5 cups of coffee so we can sit around and talk about how unfair life is for us.


Sound fair?

I'm always fascinated by the beauty of fall. It's one of the few weather-related things I would miss if I were to ever leave the Midwest. I love the change of color, the crispy crunching of leaves, the cool breeze.

What I love most is the picture it paints of death and rebirth. I think that perfectly illustrates the cycles we have to go through in life.

There are times in our lives where we have to break away from a part of ourselves. Whether it's a sin that we've been holding onto, a relationship that isn't good for us, our spending habits... Whatever it might be, it's usually tough to just let it go. We don't want to just pluck it from our tree.

So we slowly start to sever ties. As we consciously try to avoid the sin, stop seeing a person as much, stop spending outrageously, the leaf begins to turn orange. The leaf still seems so appealing and is still a part of us, but we know if we don't get rid of it soon, it's just going to cause long-term damage.

So we sever more ties. We start finding ways to take our mind off the sin, we start spending time with different people, we start budgeting our money. And the leaf turns red. It still looks beautiful. It could probably be nurtured back to life.

But is it worth the long-term damage? Is it worth damaging the tree?

So we sever the final ties. We fill our time with constructive activities, we start building new relationships, we find wise ways to use our money. The leaf finishes it's life and falls from our tree.

Here's where the best part comes in: rebirth.

When we are able to break away from those things in our lives, it opens us up to new growth. We can begin to make a difference in others' lives. We can start to build close and fostering relationships. We can start using our resources to benefit others.

All things that couldn't happen if we just held on to those old leaves.

Isn't it beautiful?

I read this article in Relevant Magazine last week, and it really annoyed me. The article addresses the topic of Christians and cussing. I understand that we as Christians should hold a higher standard for ourselves, but I think this article really misses the point of what the Bible says about cussing.

The problem with using "bad words" is not the words themselves. When the Bible was written, there was no such thing as English. There was no F-word, or S-word. The problem with choosing to use these words is not the words themselves, but the context in which you use them. It's not what you say that is the problem, it's where your heart is when you say it.

But (most) Christians don't put the focus on the right thing in this situation, so they substitute words. They say things like "FUDGE!" or "You're a jerk!" because those don't include "swear words."

Except that they do. Just because you didn't say the THE F-word doesn't mean you weren't implying it's usage. Saying "Fudge!" out of anger is worse than saying the F-word out of jest.

The worst part of this article is that the author decides that "a well-placed swear word might be appropriate for a Christian when no other word will get across an idea or express a certain level of emotion/emphasis." He then goes on to give examples of some Christian artists that have used curse words in their songs before and excuses them by saying, "there is definitely a place and a time for a well-placed cuss word. But it has to be used sparingly and with a real meaningful purpose behind it."

This guy doesn't get what the Bible says about cussing. He even references James 3:1-12 as proof of his position. James is saying that the meaning behind your words is what matters. "Cursing" doesn't necessarily mean saying no-no words, it means purposely inflicting harm with your words; allowing your anger to speak.

I've always been under the impression that words are only as powerful as the heart behind them. If somebody is joking around and curses, I don't think much of it. In that situation, it's just another word. But when I'm walking around downtown and I see a preacher standing on the corner saying, "God hates you because of your sin and you're going to burn in hell forever," I am stunned. That's what cursing is. It doesn't matter what words you use to do it, but what you mean when you say them. Those words are meant to inflict pain or hatred upon someone. THAT is what the Bible says is cussing.

"With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness." -James 1:9

It's about time for us to take a Biblical stance on cursing, not a religious one. It's about time for us to worry more about being holy and not just appearing so.

(I love Relevant magazine and value their willingness to publish a variety of positions. My response to this article in no way reflects my feelings for their publication.)

I went to an Emery concert a couple weeks ago. I've seen them in concert a bunch of times (more than I can count), and it's phenomenal every time. It's really hard to explain the feeling I get at those concerts, but I'll do my best.

It really feels like I just become a different person. Those that know me will know that I'm rather reserved. I'm not really loud, I'm not hyperactive. I'm generally calm and collected.

That is not who I am when I'm standing in a mosh of people and Emery is playing their hearts out. I transform into a crazy person. I become completely unaware of the other people around me. I sing every last song and scream every last scream. I pull myself up on the barricade and I throw my hands in the air.

And, apparently, my enthusiasm does not go unnoticed.

The last couple times, Josh (the keyboardist and screamer) has allowed me to join the performance experience. He makes his way over to where I'm standing, grabs my head, puts the microphone in my face, and screams at me while I scream along with him. Sound crazy? It's amazing.

This craziness doesn't come about just because of some euphoria created by that environment; it's the connection I have to Emery's music. There's just something in the passion and emotion of their music and the messages they convey. They tackle issues that people struggle with, but never cease to push a message of hope. And when you see them perform, you know that these songs are directly from their hearts. And their passion and energy just translates to my own life, and I can't help but go crazy with them.

When I leave those concerts, I usually feel a variety of things:

Thirsty.
Gross. (I'm covered in my sweat and the sweat of strangers.)
Hoarse. (All the screaming and singing usually makes me lose my voice.)
Achy. (It's a lot of work to maintain that front row spot!)
Alive.

I feel so alive. For just that hour of them performing, I forget about all those other things that might weigh on my mind. For that hour, it's just this amazing band putting on this amazing show and just truthfully sharing their hearts and offering words of hope. That's the thing that makes the show so awesome for me. It's not because the band is phenomenal musically (which they are)or that they know how to put on a good show (which they do), it's because they're speaking to me where I'm at. I mess up, I struggle with things, but I have hope because those sins are forgiven. I have hope because I have a God that just loves me so much, that I can't comprehend.

And for that hour, I am just worshiping. I am letting go of everything else and just singing of failure, struggle, and hope. It's unbelievable.

I wonder what my church would think if I rushed the stage next weekend and went crazy like that...

Well, I definitely haven't been writing as much as I'd like to these past few months.