My Trip to Chicago with Megan and Morgan

Here are some pictures from my recent trip to Chicago -- words to come later:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2037590&id=220400154&l=fef1e7be30

My New Home

Well, it's official -- I'm moving into my fourth new home and for the fifth time in 2009. I started in DeKalb, moved home to Yorkville, got kicked out and moved back to Sycamore, then back to Yorkville after only a couple of days, got kicked out again on Sunday and am now in Saint Charles -- a beautiful, beautiful city that, ironically, I've always to raise a family in. Could this be the start of something...?

There's obviously a lot of details I'm leaving out here, but I promise I will try to fill you all in with the details in the days to come.

Please pray for an opportunity to open up soon, so I will not become a burden on my new hosts.

My Lack of Friends

I was watching It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia today -- the episode where the gang decides they're going to go on a manhunt for more friends. To aid them in this adventure, they create flyers to pass out, as advertisements of themselves. At one point, Dennis says something along the lines of, "I'm in my late 20's -- where am I supposed to meet new people? These flyers do all the work themselves." Then I recalled something my friend, Jeff, told me last year: "I got married, woke up one day and realized I didn't have any friends anymore."

Well, I'm not in my late 20's -- I'm merely in my mid 20's. But already I'm discovering the truth of these statements. I'm suddenly waking up everyday and realizing "I'm going to spend this entire day by myself. I'm going to wake up alone, do my daily life stuff alone, eat dinner alone and go to bed alone."

Every night for the last two weeks I have been feeling incredibly lonely; I think this is largely due to the fact that I have spent every night of the last two weeks alone, in my basement. So, I suppose my feeling lonely is partially my fault. However, the flip side of this argument is that I have no gas in my car and no money in my bank account -- thus, I am unable to purchase the gas necessary to fuel the car that will take me all the way out to DeKalb, where the majority of my friends reside. So I guess that makes me a victim of circumstance. Could any of my DeKalb friends come to Yorkville to see me? Yes -- I suppose they could. But it seems as though unless I make the effort to invite myself over to their houses and drive up there, nothing happens. C'est la vie?

Distance and personal conflicts seem to be intruding on my relationships lately: I broke up with my girlfriend because of distance and the fact that she has no time for me (not her fault, but...); a good friend of mine, Mary, lives way down in Mississippi; my best friend, Caitlin, hasn't had time for me since the day I met her -- always, always, always busy or simply not wanting to hang out; my new friend, Amanda, is not only busy, but also recently decided to revolutionize her life by giving herself more "me time;" Josh usually only calls me if he needs me to do something for him; my friends, the Nashes, just had a baby and both work full-time, so they have no time; my friends, the Leighs, also just had a baby and are usually busy hanging out with other people...

I could keep going, but I'm depressing myself.

Now, granted, I'm probably just feeling sorry for myself. And if anybody I know even reads this shitty blog, they'll probably say, "Well YOU never call ME! YOU never visit ME!" In fact, I know that will happen (providing, of course, somebody I know reads this shitty blog -- which I doubt very much). And, yeah -- they'll be right. I suppose I COULD call them and invite myself over every single night. And I suppose I COULD spend $50+ per week on gas just to have a social life outside of my basement.

But I'm so tired of being the one that has to initiate this stuff all the time. I'm so tired of schedules and meeting times and dates -- whatever happened to spontaneity? Why can't I just call someone up and say, "Hey -- come over to my house"? Is this what being an adult is? Does adulthood suddenly mean everyone gets married and forgets all about their single friends now that they have their married friends? Does adulthood mean relationships are the first to go when embracing "responsibilities"?

If so, I say, "Fuck it." That sounds like a shit existence and I don't want anything to do with it.

My Loneliness and the Even Darker Place of Nothingness

"I’m just going to accept my loneliness. And I’m gonna go to an even darker place of nothingness from an even farther, more extreme nothingness, on my own." - Tommy Corn, I Heart Huckabees

That's a powerfully dark, strange line that has been on my heart this entire week. I watched I Heart Huckabees on Monday night and this line comes from the scene in which Tommy (Mark Wahlberg) walks in on Albert (Jason Schwartzman) and Catarine (Isabelle Huppert) after what appears to be a sexual romp in the hotel bed. Tommy, whose wife just took his daughter and left him, falls into a world of loneliness, which only intensifies when the philosopher he has clung to and invested his thoughts and emotions into has sex with his friend, Albert.

As a Christian, I know that I cannot honestly repeat this line; for one thing, I know that even when I am lonely, I am never alone. Secondly, there's no such thing as nothingness -- there is only our thoughts and emotions which devalue the meaningfulness of everything that surrounds us.

However, I can empathize with him.

For most of my life, I've been lonely. I didn't have many friends as a kid, I grew up in a cult that discouraged communication with the outside world (and that was during my awkward teenage years, which are difficult enough as they are), girls have never really been interested in me and all the friends I did (and do) have are either married or in long-term relationships. I've always been everyone's afterthought: either I was on the outskirts of society because I didn't fit in or because nobody wanted me. When I did start making friends, the "And then there's Drew" factor came with it.

The "And then there's Drew" factor is an occurrence in which a friend will invite all of their friends over and then remember "Oh! And then there's Drew!"

Always the afterthought.

Currently, I have a girlfriend that I never see and rarely speak with. For a person whose love language is quality time, this has been incredibly difficult on me, but I've pressed on and broke on through to the other side. But, lately... It's been more difficult than usual. I couldn't be there when her dad was in the hospital, I couldn't be there for her birthday, I couldn't be there any day during the summer, I can't be there now -- not because of my schedule, but because of her's. She simply does not have time for me. And, you know -- that's not necessarily her fault. But I spend my nights alone, everynight, sending text messages into the darkness.

I could hang out with friends, but I always feel weird about it, and that is for a couple of reasons: 1) all of my close friends are either married, are in long-term relationships and a) I hate being the third wheel and b) I always feel weird taking away a couple's quality time by hanging around, 2) they live far away, 3) I don't believe in "people just to hang out with" friends (we're either best friends or nothing, sorry), 4) even when I do get over my worry of being the third wheel, some of my closest friends now have babies and so they REALLY don't have time for me. The Leighs, the Nashes and the Seelingers all have children now.

So, here I am, on Saturday night, sitting in front of the computer typing up a blog, listening to my family watch a movie in the other room, arguing with my girlfriend via text message and wondering what the hell happened to my life that made me this way? What events transpired in my personal history that made me endure this overwhelming feeling of loneliness and why is so easy for me to fall into this trap of loneliness?

I could blame my parents for leaving me home alone when I was a little kid and I had to fend for myself. I could blame a couple of my exes for cheating on me. I could blame my girlfriend for never spending time with me. I could blame the UPC for not allowing me to hang out with people outside the church. I could blame my stepmom for picking and choosing who I could and couldn't hang out with. I could blame kids in my adolescent years for thinking I was a weirdo and ignoring me. I could blame the worship leaders I've played with for never valuing my input. I could blame everyone who never thanked me for the times I bent over backwards for them.

I could blame anyone I want, but in the end, it always boils down to me.

I feel lonely because I don't love myself. I feel neglected because I neglect myself. I feel rejected because I reject myself.

I'm a mess of a self-saboteur.

My Near-Death Experience

A few days ago, my niece, Keira, 4, was playing by the fireplace and noticed a golden key sticking out of the wall. I don't know the details, obviously, of exactly what was going through her mind when she did this, but upon seeing it, she proceeded to give it a couple turns, then yanked it out of the wall and took it to another part of the house. So when everyone in the house couldn't hardly wake up Sunday morning, it suddenly became clear why.

My mom was sitting in the easy chair adjacent to the fireplace Sunday morning and was, for the most, incapacitated -- she couldn't hardly move and was having an even more difficult time keeping her eyes open. After she turned the television off so that she could take a nap (after just waking up, mind you), she noticed a hissing noise coming from the fireplace.

The gas was leaking.

Now, I was gone all day Sunday and Monday, so I didn't know about this. So when I came home Monday night and went to bed (my bedroom is in the basement), it didn't take very long for me to fall asleep. But why? I wasn't even tired! I had a lot of energy when I got home!

Last night, I discovered the difference between falling asleep and slowly blacking out. I was laying in bed and my head suddenly got very heavy -- my eyelids too. I couldn't keep them open while watching a movie and I couldn't move my head to its pillow. In fact, I couldn't hardly move my entire body! Every muscle just... gave out. I was laying there, helpless and defenseless. That's around the time that I started having trouble breathing.

I took deep breaths, not because I was relaxing, but because I was gasping for air. I was actually suffocating in my bed -- my near-death bed, if you will. I fought and struggled to keep my eyes open, because I had a feeling that if I closed them, I would never open them again. I wanted to get out of bed and run upstairs, but my muscles wouldn't even allow me to roll over. I was stuck.

Then the breathing stopped.

And my eyes closed.

And everything was black.

And I knew I was awake during all of this, because my heart started racing as I panicked and feverishly struggled to wake myself up.

Everyone has heard it said that, just as you're about to die, a bright, white light appears in front of you, or that all of your life flashes before you. Maybe I wasn't really about to die, but that didn't happen to me last night. Instead, faces and voices flashed in front of me, so rapidly that I had a difficult time recognizing them.

All of my best friends were there -- the Leighs, the Jorays, the Stellers, the Seelingers, the Rileys, the Van Homampours, the Nashes, the Mays. I heard their voices and saw replays of specific moments I spent with them. I saw Tim and Dustin at P.J.'s, drawing up ideas for a comic book on a napkin and I was taking pictures of them doing it; Suzi, laying into the couch with her feet on the coffee table and her cat, Tasuki, curled up on her big, pregnant belly; Katie at the hospital, sleeping in the bed after just giving birth to Claire; the Nashes walking their dog, Bella; Josh and Sam driving my car to Ohio; my Dad playing catch with me in the front yard; Jeff and Meggie, exchanging vows on their wedding day.

And, at the very last, I saw Megan. Everything slowed down for this vision, so I could watch it in real-time. She was standing in front of me, and we both of our hands clasped together between us. We gazed deep into each other's eyes and we were talking, but I couldn't hear the conversation. It just sounded like a murmur in an empty chamber.

And I realized I didn't want to die. I wanted to have that conversation, whatever it was.

Immediately upon thinking this, I woke up and shot straight out of bed, crashing onto the floor. My heart has beating so hard and pumping blood so fast that, if it weren't for my useless muscles, I could've flew, like Superman, up the stairs and outside. Instead, I crawled and dragged myself across the floor, up the stairs, through the kitchen and onto the deck outside. Then I rolled over on my back, just laid there and, like a person who just survived drowning, I breathed deep and savored every ounce of oxygen that filled my lungs. I was in the spot for about half of an hour, just regaining strength and breathing deep.

As it turns out, gas, unlike heat and fire, does not rise. Instead, it settles. So that Sunday afternoon, when my family realized that gas had been leaking for all of Saturday and opened every window and door in the house to aerate the place, they weren't doing a whole lot of good. Sure, the gas that had leaked into the rooms on the main floor was removed from the house, but the gas that had gotten into the vents and made its way down to the basement had not been taken care of. Instead, it filled the basement for three days, just waiting for me to come home, go downstairs and lock the door behind me, trapping me in a gassy grave.

But that didn't happen. God spared me and once again, I cheated Death.

And that's the kind of thing to write a blog about.

Her

What would I say when I saw her?

I spent the better part of three days wondering that; it was, for the most part, the only thing on my mind. What would I say when I saw her? As my friends, the Rileys, and I drove my car, Ol' Bessie, east to Columbus, Ohio, I rehearsed some lines of dialogue in my head: cheesy one-liners, smooth words, wistful, sweet nothings.

Megan, charming smile, it's such a pleasure to finally meet you.

Wow, the stars are dancing in your eyes tonight.

Hands in pockets, shoulders a little shrugged, head cocked slightly to the left, big, puppy eyes and a sheepish smile... Hi.

The words, the looks -- these fantasies dominated my thoughts for a week.

But, let me backtrack.

I almost hate to say it, but we met online. I don't know why I feel that's something to be ashamed of, but I redden with embarrassment every time I mention it. When those words, "We met online," come out of my mouth, it feels like the person I'm talking to is taken aback a little. "Oh," they reply. "Well, that's certainly... Something."

She lives four hours away from me, in central Indiana, so meeting would prove to be difficult. Luckily, Joshua needed to go to Columbus to visit a seminary and invited me along for the ride; I needed a vacation anyway, but I really wanted to meet Megan -- driving to Columbus would provide me the opportunity to do so. So I went.

All the way there, the four of us had different things on our minds, different goals, different intentions. Joshua was visiting the seminary his oldest brother attended and was deciding whether or not to pursue ministry; his wife, Sam, was eager to move out of DeKalb and start over; Aaron, Sam's younger brother, was excited at the prospect of meeting new people and leaving his troubled past behind; I was head over heels for a girl I hardly knew and wanted nothing more than to meet her.

We were in Ohio for three days, from Wednesday to Friday. When we left that Friday afternoon, the plan was to stop in Indianapolis on the way home, have dinner with Megan, then head back to DeKalb.

I had never done anything like this before, so I didn't know what to expect. I had never met someone that I've already met, if that makes any sense. What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to act?

So I rehearsed. I prepared.

Around 7:30pm or so, that night, I got a text message from her: "I'm here!" Suddenly, my nerves, which were very apparent the minute before I received the text, went below the surface and I was, suddenly, very calm. I responded, "We're pulling off the interstate now -- we're going to park, then we'll find you." She told me she was standing next to a fountain and that she'd wait for me there.

After parking, I got out of the car and my legs gave up from under me and I was suddenly very terrified. Josh managed to calm me down just enough to walk me into the men's room at Nordstrom's. Or maybe it was Macy's. Either way, it was a fairly high-end department store. I locked myself in a stall and just... sat there for about 10 minutes. My mind was a blank -- all of the dialogue that I had rehearsed for so many days was gone -- and I was terrified. I pulled myself together, walked over to the sink and splashed cold water in my face, stared into my own eyes in the mirror and tried not to panic.

Josh came in to, again, calm me down. "Joshua, I think I'm going to finish the remainder of my life with this woman. What am I supposed to do if I can't figure out a way to start?" He wrapped his arms around me, gave me a bear hug and replied, "You just do it."

We walked outside and the fresh air, stroking my cheeks, did me good. It restored a bit of confidence. The streets were relatively empty -- certainly more empty than the streets of Chicago. I was relieved, because the emptiness helped me to concentrate on simply putting one foot in front of the other. Step, step, step, step, homeless guy, step, step, step. There we go, Drew. This is going to be okay. My rehearsed lines even started coming back to me.

I called her, so that she could guide me in her direction. It was a delight to hear her voice and it was, somehow, soothing. This is going to be okay. You're just fine.

And then I saw her.

It was from a distance, but I saw her. We were still on the phone, and she didn't see me just yet because of the awkward angle and the fact that her back was turned to me. But I saw her. My entire body turned to a leaf, and I felt the wind propel me in her direction at an alarming rate -- I quickened my steps, leaving the Rileys far behind me when they were, just seconds before, walking right alongside me.

I saw her and I couldn't force away the giant, idiotic smile that consumed my face. I told her where I was, walking up behind her and laughed a little as I watched her turn frantically from side to side to find me, but to no avail.

I saw her and she was standing only a hundred or so feet from me. I stopped dead in my tracks for a second, just to take a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out. Close my eyes to gather myself. She turns around.

Then she saw me.

We hang up simultaneously, pause for a moment, then walk towards each other. She smiled at me from a distance and we both exchanged "hello's." Then, we were standing two feet from each other. That's when she smiled and every fiber of my being surrendered to her beauty.

I opened my mouth and wasn't surprised when my nerves reached out of the grave I buried them in and strangled me. The only thing that came out from the pit of my soul was, "Uhhhh..."

I looked into her eyes and melted. They were like champagne and I wanted nothing more than to cry, just to release a small amount of the mixed emotions that were bubbling up inside of me. Instead we reached for each other and embraced. We hugged for a little under half of a minute, but I didn't want to let go. Ever. It felt perfect, our bodies pressed against each other, so close, so well fitted.

I stepped back from her, breathed her in with my eyes and said, "Your picture doesn't do you any justice at all."

What? That wasn't part of the rehearsals, Drew! Stick to the script!

The rest of the night, from that moment to the one where I got into my car and drove away, was a blur of bad jokes, awkward glances, dinner in a loud restaurant, uneasiness, a homeless man on the corner who did his best to pretend he was satisfied with the leftover nachos I gave him and one more magnificent hug that didn't last nearly long enough. I can't even remember what happened, because her mere presence was so intoxicating. I drank her in, became wonderfully inebriated and have been hung over ever since.

Addison

First of all, my apologies for not writing the past two days. I promise I have a good excuse.

I don't, that was a lie.

However, I have some photos that will cheer you up.

For a long time (about 10 years now), I've had an acoustic Ibanez guitar named Addison. She's a good lady, always treated me well and has stood by my side through thick and thin -- more than I can say for any other lady in my life. She's not the prettiest girl in the world and she certainly isn't the most elegant, but, boy, when she gets the right set of strings on her, she purrs like a dream.

I've taken her out for nights on the town, one night stands, camping trips, vacations, church services, even to strange streets in the middle of the night to serenade the passersby. Since she's treated me so well, there was always one thing I wanted to do for her, and that was to give her a complete makeover.

Well, thanks to my good friend, Josh Richter, I was able to make that happen for Addison.

Ladies and gentlemen, without any further ado, allow me to present to you, the new and improved Addison...

My Weekend

What a long weekend. What a long, strange, exhausting weekend.

Saturday morning: I wake up right on time to get ready for work, which starts at 10. I am surprised at my timely rise as I was up until all hours of the night on Friday and didn't get much sleep. What doesn't surprise me, however, was that I fell asleep for 30 minutes while showering. That, of course, made me 15 minutes late for work. When I did eventually get to work, I was surprised to find my mom in the office with, once again, her boyfriend. Now, I've been getting worked up about this for a long time as it is; I've been extremely aggravated with my mom's stupid actions and irresponsibility. I was hoping things were going to get better after she and my stepdad, apparently, decided to work things out. She even told the entire family, "I am through with Hector -- he is no more." So, one can imagine my chagrin -- nay, rage -- when I found them having a laugh in the office. Again. I walked into the office, saw them, made a quick left turn for the men's room so that I could get into the pumphouse (my office) and proceeded to trash the place with a lead pipe while shouting every obscenity in my vocabulary. My Irish blood was boiling. After a good 10 minutes, I tired myself out, collapsed in a chair and held back tears. I didn't see what good crying would've done me, but I also didn't see what bad not crying would've done me.

Saturday noon: I sat at my post, reading my Umberto Eco book, smoking cigarette after cigarette and fantasizing the things I would do to Hector with that lead pipe were he to come anywhere near me. Or look at me. I kept the pipe within reaching distance, hidden by the leg of my table, just to my right.

Saturday afternoon: Mom clocked out and went home at 3. Surprisingly, she went straight home. She tells us that Hector is, now, just a friend and that they're not having sex anymore. I'm still skeptical, but she's gone straight home three nights in a row, so that's something I guess. I supposed Hector stayed at the apartments, so I kept the pipe within reach, just in case. I've never dreamed of violence in my life; up until this situation, I've been the poster boy for pacifism. Now, I'm having daydreams about smashing a guy's face in with a lead pipe. That's troubling. I spend the rest of the afternoon shooting the shit with a couple friends at the apartments.

Saturday evening: Here was the plan -- I'd get off work at 9, then drive to Sycamore to have an all-night jam session with Josh, Ian and Corey. Joel, however, sends me a text around 8 that said his wife had just gone into labor. I relay this information to Josh and he proposes that we still hang out and, possibly, stay up all night -- sort of a "watch night," as it were. If Mandi were to give birth in the middle of the night, we were prepared to drive out to the hospital to congratulate them.

Saturday night: I drive to Sycamore and said jam session occurs. Josh's new townhouse is fantastic. We laugh, we sing, we play guitars, we watch picnicface.com. Corey goes home, then Ian falls asleep on the couch.

Midnight: Josh and I decide that if we're going to stay up, we need coffee. So we drive over to Steak 'n' Shake and talk about a myriad of things. Creepy DeKalb townies come into the restaurant, so we leave. We drive his car all over Sycamore, Maple Park, Elburn, Cortland, St. Charles and we just talk. We talked mostly about relationships -- mine with Megan and his with his wife. It was so refreshing to finally be able to talk with a friend about the significant life events that are taking place all at once in my life. I've met with Pastor Tom the last two Fridays and I think that's going to become a weekly thing, which is good and well, but as much as he's a friend, he's ultimately my pastor. It's an entirely different situation to discuss life and spirituality with a friend -- someone who's on the same level as you; not someone who speaks authoritatively into your life, but someone who helps to point you in the right direction and even sympathize with you. I miss that about DeKalb -- I don't have anyone in Yorkville that I can do that with.

Early Sunday morning: At five in the morning, after not hearing from the Nashes, I drove back to the pool to sleep on the couch in the clubhouse. I figured I could sleep at Josh's, on the floor, and get about four hours of sleep, or I could sleep on the couch at the clubhouse and get about five hours of sleep. I slept on the couch at the clubhouse and got about two hours of sleep. I did, though, get to watch the sunrise while driving there. I was hoping the sunrise would be symbolic of a new dawn in my life, but I doubt it was; the sun's rising is just an illusion caused by the world's rotation. There isn't much hope in that.

Sunday morning: The Nashes text me around 7:30 to inform that their daughter, Taylor Anne Nash, was born. I sent a brief reply and tried to fall asleep again, but it was of no use. I was excited for the Nashes, I was too tired to sleep, the sun was shining directly into my eyes and people were starting to walk around the clubhouse. I opted to just open the pool early and get back to reading Eco. I fell asleep, with the book in my hands, in the lawn chair I was sitting in by the pool. I didn't wake up again until 10:45, when I finally got my first swimmer.



Sunday afternoon: Since I run the joint and, essentially, make my own rules, I decided to leave in the middle of the day to go to the hospital for an hour or so to visit the Nashes and catch a glimpse of baby Taylor. She's a beautiful, beautiful baby and Joel and Mandi make for beautiful, beautiful parents. I'm very happy for them, very proud of them -- I know they're going to be wonderful parents for Taylor and she is going to grow up with a solid family. It is my prayer that she will be fully aware of just how blessed she is to have Joel and Mandi as her parents.

Sunday evening: I watch the Cubs split their Sunday double header and their four game series with the Cardinals. That is exactly what I did not need as my weekend's nightcap.

Sunday night: I come home for the first time since Friday night. I'm still so mad at my mom, I can't even look at her. I decided to write a blog.

And, now, I am going to bed.

Over the Wire Bible Study #4 -- Luke 1:57-66

Wow -- four posts and I'm not even through Chapter 1 yet. I don't know if I'm being too meticulous or whatever, but I hope to get through Chapter 2 by Sunday. This "one pericapy at a time" business isn't getting me very far!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Luke 1:57-66

57 Now the time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son. 58 And her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her. 59 And on the eighth day they came to circumcise the child. And they would have called him Zechariah after his father, 60 but his mother answered, "No; he shall be called John." 61 And they said to her, "None of your relatives is called by this name." 62 And they made signs to his father, inquiring what he wanted him to be called. 63 And he asked for a writing tablet and wrote, "His name is John." And they all wondered. 64 And immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue loosed, and he spoke, blessing God. 65 And fear came on all their neighbors. And all these things were talked about through all the hill country of Judea, 66 and all who heard them laid them up in their hearts, saying, "What then will this child be?" For the hand of the Lord was with him.

---> I'm most intrigued by the word "fear" in this section. Luke informs us that "fear came on all their neighbors," (v65) -- why "fear?" What was it about this particular event that inspired "fear" in the hearts of their neighbors?

The word "fear" is used all over the Bible -- mostly in the phrases "fear of God" or "fear of the Lord." In my understanding, in such contexts, this word denotes an awe-inspiring respect for God. But I don't believe that is the context for "fear" in this passage -- I have to believe these people were legitimately afraid of what was happening. Here, Zechariah was muted for at least nine months for questioning God. When his neighbors start questioning Elizabeth's name choice for their baby and even going to Zechariah about it (I can only assume to nag), he blurts out, "His name is John!" (Luke tells us that he actually wrote that on a tablet since he was mute and, since this is the only account we have of this event, that must have been what happened. My imagination, however, prefers the possibility that Zechariah boldly proclaimed it silence his naysayers)

Whatever happened, it made everyone stop questioning the name immediately. I can imagine them throwing up their hands and slowly backing away, saying, "Whoa -- easy now, Zach. His name is John -- that's a good choice. Strong name," then walking away and murmuring to each other, "Well that reaction was a little unnecessary!"

But Luke tells us that they were fearful. I'm fascinated about how quickly their attitudes change from one moment to the next; one minute, they were rejoicing and praising God for His mercy (v57-58), the next minute, they're freaked out and, probably, a little offended at Zechariah's outburst.

But, consider the two events they were reacting to: when they were cheerful, they had just seen a birth. There was a cute new baby to join their little village and they were excited that God had allowed such a thing to happen. Then, when God's will, His word, is boldly proclaimed by Zechariah, they are suddenly silenced and fearful.

I find this in the church today: we get excited about the miraculous, we get excited about God's goodness and mercy and love. When we hear about forgiveness and liberty and freedom, we, rightfully, rejoice and praise God. Then the preacher comes at us with a hard gospel, with a high calling, and we are suddenly offended. When there was a cute new baby, -- possibly, for some in the village, symbolic of a new beginning -- there was something to rejoice about. But, when Zechariah comes to them and says, "You people are perverting God's will and tempting my wife to pervert God's will -- his name is JOHN!," suddenly there's nothing to rejoice about anymore. Now everyone is solemn, fearful and a little offended.

Interesting.

Luke tells us that they, then, walked away and talked amongst themselves about John's destiny, for they understood that if such miracles took place, surely John had a high calling on his life (v65-66).

And this leads me to ponder callings:

1) Everyone knew John had a high calling because of the miracles that surrounded his birth: Elizabeth gave birth at a very old age, Zechariah was muted for doubting God and his speech was restored for declaring God's word. If these things happened, surely God has something big in mind for John! God made these things happen for a reason; He re-aligns the stars and the planets to make His will happen.

2) The ball was in Zechariah and Elizabeth's court to facilitate God's will, His master plan. I find this to be one of the downfalls of Calvinism and open theism: Zechariah and Elizabeth had to be willing (free will), first of all, to carry out God's plan; He wasn't going to force them to do anything they didn't want to do. I believe, when Gabriel came to Zechariah and told him what was going to happen, Zechariah could have said, "Absolutely not," and flipped Gabriel off. But he didn't. And who's to say what might have happened had that happened? It was up to them to live their lives in His will and act accordingly.
The same goes for us, I think. For example, I believe I am called to be a missionary: guess what -- it's up to me to keep my passport up to date, to buy plane tickets, to learn another language if necessary, to find a place to live, to have some sort of plan. I believe I am called to be a worship leader: again, it's up to me to learn to play an instrument and practice, to get involved with a church that either needs a worship leader or has room on the worship team for another musician.
Things, more often than not, don't just happen. It's up to us to be God's hand and feet in these situations; to carry out His work. If we choose to reject His plan for our lives, if we choose not to believe, if we choose not to participate in the work He his doing, we won't receive the blessings He has in store for us (Luke 1:45, 1 Peter 3:9, Deuteronomy 28).

Over the Wire Bible Study #3 -- Luke 1:39-55

It's been a while since my last Over the Wire Bible Study update -- I don't believe Josh is doing it anymore, since he has bigger fish to fry, but it is a Wednesday night and I am bored silly; obviously this is the exact kind of spirits I should be in when deciding to study the Word a little bit.

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Luke 1:39-45

39 In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a town in Judah, 40 and she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. 41 And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, 42 and she exclaimed with a loud cry, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! 43 And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me? 44 For behold, when the sound of your greeting came to my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. 45 And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord."

---> Luke 1, thus far, deals a great deal with faith. As I've discussed in the two previous posts, Luke dedicated the book to Theophilus so that he might increase in faith, Zechariah was silenced because he lacked faith even though he was a man of the cloth and Gabriel dealt fairly with Mary's lack of faith because she was an unlearned child. And now, in this selection of verses, we find Mary and Elizabeth, once again, dealing with faith.

In verse 45, Elizabeth declares the Lord's blessings on Mary because she believed that what God said was going to happen was actually going to happen. She had faith.

Now, when an angel of the Lord comes to you in the middle of the night and says, "You are going to birth the Messiah while you are still a virgin," there's one of a few ways you can react:

1) Disbelief - Mary could have very well said, "That is ridiculous. I'm 14, I'm a virgin and I'm not even the most spiritual person I know."

2) Anger - Again, Mary could have very well said, "That is ridiculous! I'm 14, I'm a virgin and I'm not even the most spiritual person I know! I don't want anything to do with this Messiah! This is going to ruin my reputation and alienate me from my friends and family! This is going to cost my life!"

3) Indifference - Mary could have said, "Well, Gabriel, let's not get too excited. I've heard God make promises before that have yet to come to pass. I mean, Israel is still in bondage, am I right? Let's just wait and see what happens."

4) Belief - Mary could have said, "Okay."

While the first three options are completely understandable reactions in Mary's situation, she opted to go with the fourth -- she laid down her life, her pride, her reservations and her doubts and said, "Okay." Because of that, even in her first meeting with someone else, the course of history already started changing.

Luke tells us that as soon as Mary came into contact with Elizabeth, the baby in her womb (John the Baptist) leaped for joy and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. Two souls were filled with the Holy Spirit just by being near Jesus -- even as he was in the womb.

I have to believe that it wasn't just Jesus' mere presence that so affected Elizabeth and John, though; I have to believe that it was Elizabeth's faith that earned such a chemical reaction. Consider what Elizabeth said immediately upon seeing Mary: she didn't greet her with hugs and kisses, she didn't just say "Hello" and she didn't invite them in for milk and cookies; she boldly exclaimed, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!" (v41-42)

Elizabeth knew because of her faith and she had faith because she knew. That is what saved her.

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I've been thinking a lot about faith, lately. Anyone who knows me, even moderately well, knows what I've gone through in my 24 years. And I feel like God has promised me so many things that have yet to come to pass. I don't have a job, I'm still single, I'm not out of debt, I haven't traveled, etc., etc. There are so many things that I've yet to see happen.

When I start throwing myself a pity party or when I start casting stones at God, I am now reminded of verse 45: "And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord."

I don't feel blessed and, yet, I know I have been blessed -- interesting paradox. In the same way, I know God has spoken to me and, yet, I don't feel as though He is honoring the commitments He made to me.

This leads me to question myself, to check my heart. Is it possible that I am not being blessed because I don't really, truly believe that there will be a fulfillment of what was spoken to me from the Lord? Is it possible that I am the problem? Hmmmm.

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The Magnificat, I feel, is one of those things I simply don't need to write any sort of commentary on, so I will just copy and paste it here. I pray that Mary's praise will serve as a reminder to us who struggle with our faiths that God really is in charge and that He really will fulfill His promises:

Luke 1:46-55

46And Mary said,

"My soul magnifies the Lord,
47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
48 for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
49 for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
50 And his mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
51 He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
52 he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
and exalted those of humble estate;
53 he has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
54 He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
55 as he spoke to our fathers,
to Abraham and to his offspring forever."

Over the Wire Bible Study #2 -- Luke 1:5-38

And, now, it is time for the second edition of the "Over the Wire Bible Study" with Drew Moody and Joshua Riley. Last night, I looked into the first four verses of the first chapter of Luke; tonight I'll be covering the next 40 verses. Again, I invite all of [ the drew ]'s subscribers and readership to take part in this conversation -- Josh and I always welcome an interruption.

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Luke 1:5-24
5 In the days of Herod, king of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah, of the division of Abijah. And he had a wife from the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. 6 And they were both righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord. 7 But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were advanced in years.

8 Now while he was serving as priest before God when his division was on duty, 9 according to the custom of the priesthood, he was chosen by lot to enter the temple of the Lord and burn incense. 10 And the whole multitude of the people were praying outside at the hour of incense. 11 And there appeared to him an angel of the Lord standing on the right side of the altar of incense. 12 And Zechariah was troubled when he saw him, and fear fell upon him. 13 But the angel said to him, "Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard, and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John. 14 And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, 15 for he will be great before the Lord. And he must not drink wine or strong drink, and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother’s womb. 16 And he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God, 17 and he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared."

18 And Zechariah said to the angel, "How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years." 19 And the angel answered him, "I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I was sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. 20 And behold, you will be silent and unable to speak until the day that these things take place, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time." 21 And the people were waiting for Zechariah, and they were wondering at his delay in the temple. 22 And when he came out, he was unable to speak to them, and they realized that he had seen a vision in the temple. And he kept making signs to them and remained mute. 23 And when his time of service was ended, he went to his home.

24 After these days his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she kept herself hidden, saying, 25 "Thus the Lord has done for me in the days when he looked on me, to take away my reproach among people."

---> A couple things:

According to v6, Zechariah and Elizabeth were both faultless, blameless and honored all of God's statutes. They knew the Law and they obeyed. They were the models for exemplary behavior. So it strikes me as odd that God had not honored their prayers for a child (v7); if they were faultless and blameless, it would seem to me that God would be more than happy to give them a child! This, however, is not how God does things.

I often marvel at how some of the greatest in God's Kingdom were born from the most perplexing of situations.

Much like Zechariah and Elizabeth, Abraham and Sarah also did not conceive until they were very, very old -- well beyond the (naturally) normal child-producing years (Genesis 11:30), In fact, when God promised them a child, Abraham didn't even take Him seriously! He laughed -- nay, guffawed -- at the idea of a 100 year old man and a 90 year old woman having children (Genesis 17:17).

It almost seems like a prerequisite for people in Biblical times who were to lead significant, historical lives to have miraculous birth stories.

Consider, for example:

The very first births -- Adam and Eve. Adam was formed in the image of God, by God, from a pile of clay. He learned to breathe when God breathed life into his nostrils. Eve, on the other hand -- God constructed her with one of Adam's ribs. These two people lived in daily communion and fellowship with the Ultimate Creator and fathered and mothered all of mankind. Foolish, unnatural, miraculous.

Moses, born a Hebrew peasant in times when Pharaoh was rounding up all the Hebrews and making them slaves. His mother put him in a basket, sent him floating up the Nile River and was discovered by one of Pharaoh's wives. Moses was raised in the Egyptian courts, grew up (for all intents and purposes) an Egyptian and, yet, managed to lead the Hebrews out of Egyptian bondage. Foolish, unnatural, miraculous.

Joseph was born in a completely natural way, but the story of his birth was totally unnatural. His mother, who died in child birth, was called Rachel and his father, Jacob, was a slave for Rachel's father for 14 years because she was the love of his life and he knew he absolutely had to be with her. He worked her father's fields for 14 years just to gain his approval! Joseph would grow up to be hated and envied by his brothers, beaten up, thrown into a well, then sold into Egyptian slavery, then made Pharaoh's right-hand man for his dream-interpreting skills, then, ultimately, became one of the highest ranking officials in Egypt. Foolish, unnatural, miraculous.

But this is the way in which God operates; this is the way He goes about things. God chooses the foolish things of the world, that he might confound them that are wise; and God chooses the weak things of the world, that he might put to shame the things that are strong (1 Corinthians 1:27).

So the fact that Gabriel came to Zechariah and foretold that Zechariah and Elizabeth would have a child called John shouldn't have been too surprising, considering how tantamount that story is to Old Testament births.

Then, most miraculously of all, there is the story of Jesus's birth:

Luke 1:26-38
26 In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, 27 to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. And the virgin’s name was Mary. 28 And he came to her and said, "Greetings, O favored one, the Lord is with you!" 29 But she was greatly troubled at the saying, and tried to discern what sort of greeting this might be. 30 And the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 31 And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. 32 He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, 33and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end."

34 And Mary said to the angel, "How will this be, since I am a virgin?"

35 And the angel answered her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy — the Son of God. 36 And behold, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month with her who was called barren. 37 For nothing will be impossible with God." 38 And Mary said, "Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word." And the angel departed from her.

So, now we have two stories that are not identical, but very, very similar. In both stories, Gabriel comes to two sets of people and prophecies miraculous births to both: one birth to a very elderly couple who have been married for many years and are well beyond their prime, and one birth to a very young couple who are not married and are both virgins (v34)! These two stories, in the natural, make no sense. It's the pinnacle of foolishness to believe that these two couples would give birth!

However, again, God uses the foolish things of the world to confound the wise and the weak to put to shame the strong.

What I find interesting, though, are the reactions Gabriel receives from both parties he talks to and the responses these reactions elicit from Gabriel: both immediately doubted his words, but Gabriel responds differently to them. When Zechariah expresses his doubts (v18), Gabriel silences him -- he makes him literally dumbstruck -- because of his lack of faith (v19-20). When Mary expresses her doubts, on the other hand (v34), Gabriel deals with her gently and calmly explains the specifics of the situation (v35-37). Why the disparity between the two stories?

I think it has to do with the status levels of the two parties involved.

On the one hand, we have Zechariah -- a man who is, as aforementioned, faultless and blameless. He was a priest and communed with God in the holy of holies -- he burned incense before the Lord while the other priests were content to stay outside and pray on their own (v8-10). He was raised in the faith, lived out the faith, perfected the faith, preached the faith and loved the faith. He knew the Scriptures inside and out, was well-versed with the miracles that God -- the God of Abraham and Jacob and Isaac, his forefathers -- performed for the benefit of His people.

And, yet, for all this knowledge, he still had the audacity and lack of faith to go so far as to try correcting God's messenger. Rather than falling to his knees, with tears streaming down his face, thanking God for His blessings of provision, his immediate reaction was to doubt God's word. So, Gabriel silenced him for his lack of faith.

I also find it interesting that the first several verses of Luke directly deal with doubt -- first, Theophilus in v1-4, then Zechariah in v18-23 and, finally, Mary in v26-34. Hmmm... Do I sense a theme? Perhaps a bit of foreshadowing of things to come? Oh, Luke -- you and your stellar writing abilities -- you do go on!

Now, at first, I will admit, I thought Zechariah's punishment seemed a little harsh; one slight indiscretion, one slight moment of doubt, and Zechariah is doomed to nine months of muteness. But, upon reading this selection again, I have to wonder whether or not Gabriel really had any other choice but to silence him. I mean, Zechariah was a high priest -- a leader and teacher of men. What sort of message would be conveyed to His people if God had not punished Zechariah for his doubtfulness? If God were to allow Zechariah's doubt to go unpunished, who's to say what sort of agnosticism would stem from Zechariah's congregation?

Mary, on the other hand, was not punished for her faithlessness (v34). As aforementioned, Gabriel calmly explained the situation to her (v30-37) and she was excited at the prospect of being the Holy Mother (v38). But Mary, on the other hand, was not a priestess -- she wasn't a leader. She wasn't even a leader in her household! Her gender automatically negated her leadership abilities, her age negated her leadership abilities and her social status negated her leadership abilities. Don't hear me wrong -- I'm not saying she wasn't capable of being a leader (she is, after all, the Holy Mother), but she was not able to lead in her day and age because of those three things. A believer though she may have been, there wasn't any need to punish her for her doubts. I'd like to believe that God had mercy on her, despite her doubts, because of the road that lied ahead of her.

See, when Elizabeth would conceive, all of her family members and contemporaries and peers would congratulate her and Zechariah and hail them as faithful to God's promises. They would recall the stories of the Old Testament and praise God for, once again, miraculously bringing a child into the world. When Mary conceived, on the other hand, she would become despised by those around her. She was a very young, single woman. When she told her family and friends that she was pregnant and single (the ultimate single mother), they would call her a slut, a harlot, a Jezebel. When she'd tell them that was still a virgin, that the Holy Spirit impregnated her rather than Joseph, they would call her insane and, quite possibly, stone her to death for blasphemy.

I think there is also a lesson to be learned here regarding the power of the tongue:

James 3:1-12
1 Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness. 2 For we all stumble in many ways. And if anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle his whole body. 3 If we put bits into the mouths of horses so that they obey us, we guide their whole bodies as well. 4 Look at the ships also: though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. 5 So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things. How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire! 6 And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell. 7 For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by mankind, 8 but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. 9 With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God. 10 From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so. 11 Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and salt water? 12 Can a fig tree, my brothers, bear olives, or a grapevine produce figs? Neither can a salt pond yield fresh water.

See, according to v1, Zechariah had to be greatly punished for his one single act of doubt. Furthermore, Luke even writes:

Luke 17:1-2
1 And he said to his disciples, "Temptations to sin are sure to come, but woe to the one through whom they come! 2 It would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck and he were cast into the sea than that he should cause one of these little ones to sin."

There are serious consequences for tempting believers to stumble -- this is one thing that Jesus did not take lightly. Have you ever seen a millstone?? They are massive pieces of masonry -- about half the size of a man and considerably more heavy. According to Jesus, it would be better to have one of these things tied around your neck and to have you tossed into the ocean than to tempt someone to sin. So, really, Zechariah got off easy -- he was just silenced for nine months so that he wouldn't be able to spread his doubt to others.

I quite like the way Adam Clarke's commentary puts it:

Dumbness ordinarily proceeds from a natural imperfection or debility of the organs of speech; in this case there was no natural weakness or unfitness in those organs; but, for his rash and unbelieving speech, silence is imposed upon him by the Lord, and he shall not be able to break it, till the power that has silenced him gives him again the permission to speak! Let those who are intemperate in the use of their tongues behold here the severity and mercy of the Lord; nine months' silence for one intemperate speech! Many, by giving way to the language of unbelief, have lost the language of praise and thanksgiving for months, if not years!

May this be a lesson to us today, to tame our tongues -- to be wary of professing and/or spreading doubt and unbelief.

Over the Wire Bible Study #1 -- Luke 1:1-4

I was going to attempt writing an introduction for this blog to explain what is happening, but Joshua Riley explained it so well, that I just copied and pasted it into my blog. Hopefully, that is ethical and he is okay with it.

For everyone who reads my blog, feel free to check out Josh's updates at In Waiting We Are Lost and join in the conversation!

"This blog series...is an attempt to keep a friendship alive that is floundering in an uncertain sea of turmoil and distance. So this blog series is to take a stand, fight the good fight worth fighting and make this friendship work...In order to see [our relationship] sustained and our friendship and relationship with God grow, we plan on reading the Gospel of Luke separately, and blogging about our discoveries, reading each others' discoveries and being emboldened to, in our faiths, by each others' faiths and writings. Here it goes. I don't know where this is going to end up but I know that Luke's Gospel is the first step in what could end up as anything. We will leave comments on each others' pages; you are welcome to do so with us. We don't have a reading plan because reading plans are an avenue to some sort of failure of missed goals and frustration. We are going to read and post everyday -- that is the only plan. Other than that we are going to let God guide us..." -- Joshua Riley

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Luke 1:1-4
1 Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things that have been accomplished among us, 2 just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word have delivered them to us, 3 it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, 4 that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught.

--> Now, Luke is my favorite gospel account and, quite possibly indeed, my favorite book of the Bible. As a fellow writer (or, at least a fellow who claims to be a writer), I feel a kindred spirit with Luke, the historian. His attention to detail is impeccable; rather than focusing on what Jesus said and spending most of his time writing out Jesus's words (like Matthew), he focused more on the context and the setting of where these things were being said; rather than giving very basic summaries of what happened (like Mark), he went into great detail each miracle performed, each action Christ took and each reaction Christ received; rather than writing with an inclination to become very preachy as a means of reaching the lost faction of his readership (like John), Luke didn't offer much commentary at all -- he let the stories of Christ's birth, ministry, death and resurrection suffice for themselves.

In the preface of this book, in those first four chapters, Luke even explains that his intentions are different from his contemporaries! He is fully aware that stories were circulating and that books were being written. "It seemed good to [him] also" to offer his version of the story, his own spin on the story.

Maybe it's because I'm embarking on this blogging adventure with Josh that I am reading Scriptures more closely. And maybe it's because I'm reading Scriptures more closely that I have taken such a notice to the first four verses that introduce Luke's account of the gospel -- an introduction which I have never really paid any mind to until this project.

The book of Luke is a story about life. Of the four apostles who wrote gospels, Luke shares the most stories about the miracles Jesus performed: giving sight to the blind, speech to the dumb, hearing to the deaf, healing blood clots and paralytics and lepers, casting out demons and even resurrecting the dead. It is the story of vagabonds, ragamuffins, castaways, sinners, demoniacs, freaks and, as Josh sometimes says, "a ragtag team of misfits and miscreants" -- all people who lost their way and were in desperate need of salvation, of a second chance at life (and "life more abundantly" (John 10:10)). Ultimately, as it is with the three other gospel accounts, the gospel according to Luke is the story of the greatest miracle of all: Christ's resurrection -- the very gospel itself.

Luke's account of the gospel is a book about the human condition and God's saving grace.

Another thing that sets Luke's gospel story apart is his target audience. Unlike the other three gospels, we cannot assume that he is writing for the sake of the general public; we cannot assume that Luke intended for his account to be widespread. We cannot assume such things because of verses 3-4: it is made very evident that Luke wrote this gospel account to a single person, Theophilus. Don't hear me wrong -- I believe that all Scripture is the word of God and that the Holy Spirit wrote the Scriptures just as much as anyone else and that God is sovereign. Perhaps Luke knew that 2,000 years later, you could pick up a paperback copy of his gospel account at a local bookstore -- God definitely did. What I'm presupposing is that we cannot say, for sure, Luke knew that; we did, however, know that he was writing this account to Theophilus, so that he "may have certainty concerning the things [he had] been taught" (v4).

The phrase, "the things you have been taught," leads this writer to believe that Theophilus was a believer or, at the very least, one who had been preached to. The fact that Luke is writing a personal letter to him out of great concern for the certainty of his faith, as if he were an old friend or even, perhaps, a ministerial associate, points to the former possibility.

And this believer, much like every believer from time to time, at one point or another will experience, was struggling with his faith. He had heard the gospel, he had experienced the gospel and he even had a relationship with at least one of the people who had firsthand experience with Jesus's daily interactions (namely, Luke). And, yet, for all this knowledge, he was still struggling with the things which he had been told. He was still wrestling with his faith.

Theophilus was Greek -- at least, we can infer that from his Greek name (which, ironically, translates to "friend of God"). His Greek heritage, therefore, made him a gentile -- he was not one of God's chosen people and, therefore, not a part of God's inheritance; that is, until Jesus came. Jesus's death and resurrection was for all, "to the Jew first and also to the Greek" (Romans 1:16). The Jews were growing on a vine that tied them directly to God and, because of Jesus's death and resurrection, the Greeks and all other gentiles were grafted in.

But, Theophilus, being a gentile, was not so sure. After all, Jews and gentiles were polar opposites; the Jews were God's chosen people, the gentiles were... not. In fact, throughout the Old Testament, they were enemies of God and had no part in God's Kingdom (this is why Theophilus's name is, at once, so ironic and, again, so indicative of what Luke's gospel account is all about). Needless to say, Theophilus was struggling with the idea that he too could now be saved.

Can you imagine the thoughts racing through his mind?

"So God gave up His Son to save us -- not just the Jews, but also the Greeks. But the Jews are still His chosen people. Does that mean I'm still saved? Can I be saved? Why would God change His mind? Was Jesus really the Messiah? But what about the struggles the church is having spreading the gospel? Wouldn't she be more able to minister to the lost without all the hardships and oppression and adversity? Why won't God end the evil altogether? Is what I'm hearing true? Am I saved? Is there a God?"

Admit it -- these are all concerns and doubts that we have today. Right?

This is why Luke wrote this gospel account: to explain and make clear exactly what happened, as it happened and why it happened. He clearly and concisely explains God's salvation plan, why everything had to be the way it was and that Jesus really is Lord of all. All the care Luke gives to the task, as noted in his preface, is designed to reassure Theophilus, who has been taught on such matters previously. Whatever pressure this believer is under, he should be confident that God has moved to fulfill his plan through Jesus. Like a pastor who comforts a believer under siege by the world, Luke wishes to encourage his readers. Theophilus may be asking, "Is Christianity what I believed it to be, a religion sent from God?" Whether it is internal doubt, persecution or racial tension with Jews that has caused this question to be raised, Luke invites Theophilus -- the "friend of God" -- to consider the story of Jesus again and know that these indeed were events that "have been accomplished among us" (v1).

Distance

Over the past two weeks, I have noticed a considerably sized chasm between my loved ones and myself. Everyone, really. I noticed it most this afternoon, whilst vacuuming the pool.

My mom sat at one of the tables, doing some paperwork, and the entire time she was sitting there, I just kept thinking to myself how little patience I have for her mere presence right now. Then I thought back to this morning's goings on, when I lent my stepdad an ear for the better part of five hours and listened to him drone on and on about how miserable he is. Then I thought back to the last conversation I had with my sister, when she told me about a whole slew of things I never knew about my mom.

And the more I thought about all of this stuff, the more frustrated I became. I just got more anxious, more testy, more angsty, more pissed off.

That's when it occurred to me: there is a battle raging and I am fighting this thing alone. And that's when I felt it--this great divide, this great chasm, this great distance that is separating me from my loved ones.

A couple weeks ago, I described my situation to my friend Joel and he said, "My God -- you are cut off from community and you are dying." The moment he said it, I realized it was true. And, at that point, I had only been away from my community, my people, for half of a week.

I'm not going to lie: there is a strange part of me that misses DeKalb. I take that back -- there is no part of me that misses DeKalb. It would be more apropos for me to say that I miss some of the people there.

When I lost my job in January and felt like I was at the end of my rope and even considering reverting back to my days of alcoholism, there were a handful of people that God had swoop into my life to help me pick up the pieces and carry on. He sent me some dear friends that I communed with on a daily basis; if I wasn't hanging out with one friend, I was with another. I spent afternoons with one person and evenings with another. I got used to constantly having someone there that cared about me and would call me, even if I hadn't called them in a couple days. I got used to having someone there would encourage me and laugh with me. That's become especially true with a dear, dear friend of mine who shall remain nameless -- I've gotten so used to hearing this person constantly reminding me of their love for me that, if a day goes by and I don't hear those words, "I love you," (I admit it), I feel a little empty inside. I feel a little hollow. I feel a little...

Cut off.

Now that I'm back in Yorkville, I feel like a stranger in a strange land. It's a shadow of something Jesus told his disciples: "Only in his hometown, among his relatives, and in his own house is a prophet without honor."

Granted, I do have a couple friends here: there's Little Bretty Poo, who lives down the street, and Jeff and Meggie, who live down the street in the other direction. I hardly ever see these people, though. It's nobody's fault and I'm not casting blame -- we're all busy people. Jeff and Meggie are married and should enjoy each other's company, Little Bretty Poo is home from college, just for the summer, and can't squeeze me into his itinerary without two weeks notice. Besides, he is now dating and should enjoy the company of his lady. Besides, I work every single day except for Monday. On the weekends, when everyone else is off work, I work two double shifts in a row (24 hours in two days!).

But, because of our commitments, I'm out of my element.

I was hoping my Love would be able to rescue me, even if it's just a simple phone call -- just so I would have some sort of contact with the outside world to make sure I wasn't actually totally alone. Our lines of communication, though, seem to have been cut.

I need to find a community here in Yorkville. I need to find a group of people that will remind me everyday that fighting the good fight of faith is worth it. I need that encouragement. I'm not the loner I thought I was.

At least I'm not anymore.

A Little On Edge

I have to get out of Yorkville, first chance I get.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Last night, as I was laying on my futon, watching Extras in my bedroom, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, walk past my door, then stop in the kitchen. Some things rustled, a chair was pulled out and pushed back in, the door to the garage opened and shut, the car outside started and that was it.

It was about one in the morning.

Two hours later, the garage door open and shut, the footsteps went past my door and back up the stairs towards my mom and stepdad's bedroom. I knew it was my mom coming and going in the wee hours of the morning, because my stepdad, Bob, was sound asleep in his recliner in the living room with the television still on.

The question, then, is, What was my mother doing leaving the house at one in the morning and not coming back until three in the morning?

God only knows, but I can imagine.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Last week, an old coworker, Ron, showed up at the pool and got drunk. I confiscated the wine from him and kicked him out after he offended me by making fun of my faith and said wildly inappropriate things to two fourteen year old girls that were swimming.

Two days ago, he showed up at the pool again and volunteered to watch it a while I went to DeKalb to move a couch out of my old apartment. As appreciative as I was that he did that for me, I, once again, had to ask him to leave after saying wildly inappropriate things to some women who were sunbathing and was behaving like a genuine ass. He even introduced me to one of his buddies there as "my stepson, Drew."

That pissed me off. A lot.

But imagine my chagrin when I learned that Ron drunk-dialed my mother last Sunday (the night I kicked him out): "Heya baby -- give me a call sometime."

To make matters worse, when I called my mom today to let her know about all of the things Ron did to piss me off and earn his place as social outcast, she defended him! Not only did she defend him, but after I told her all the reasons I couldn't stand the man, and all the reasons I think he is absolute scum, she replied, "I'm sorry you feel that way."

All of this adds up in my mind to lead me to believe that my mother has slept or is sleeping with Ron.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

For the past two days, I have been trying my damnedest to get some of this freelance work done -- I've had it on my desk for two weeks now and have still only finished two of the seven articles I expected to have done by now. Furthermore, I have three articles awaiting me from Daddy's Day Magazine that I have to finish proofreading and editing by tomorrow morning. So I thought that if I buckled down tonight, put on my headphones and shut the door behind me, I'd be able to zip through all of it by midnight, no problems.

The only problem is that I live at home with a nine year old sister named Morgan and two parents that are dysfunctional, at best. These three people combine for a lot of noise, whether they are arguing, or fighting, or popping into my office every five minutes to give me Cubs vs. Braves updates, or give me apartment complex/pool gossip updates, or Webkinz updates, or just to simply annoy me.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Needless to say, I am a little on edge as of late. All this time, I thought my younger sister, Gail, was crazy, irresponsible and stupid for making the decisions she's made in life. I thought she was just another idiot that fell to the wiles of peer pressure, succumbing to drug and alcohol abuse. Now, I have a better understanding of her motivations! This place is a madhouse and even I would do just about anything to get the hell out of here!

To all my friends who have called me in the past couple days and have been made a victim of my malice, I am so, so very sorry. I don't mean to snap and I don't mean to offend. I am under a tremendous amount of stress.

I know this is the enemy tripping me up--this isn't God testing me to see how I respond to overwhelming stress. I know it's the enemy because I snapped both times my best friend sent me text messages telling me which verses in the Bible I should read for comfort.

I flipped out.

"Who is Josh to tell me how to live my life?? How does he know what I'm going through?? Who is he to make suggestions and give advice??"

I was legitimately offended for no reason whatsoever. I was a wild beast in a cage and Josh did a very kind, very gentle thing to comfort me. My parents and even other friends, on the other hand, are picking up sticks and poking them inside the cage just to get me riled up or to hurt me more.

That's how it seems anyway.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

And old friend, Sandor, sent me an email and told me he received a vision whilst praying for me. Here's his email:

Hey Drew!

I just read your posting about leaving Dekalb just now. And I was praying for you and the Lord spoke to me, and I felt led to share it with you as a word of encouragement.

I saw the words "Silver Springs" like I was looking at a sign on the road. I wondered why I thought that sounded familiar, then I remembered where it was. It is in Yorkville, Il. I actually went there when I was a kid on a field trip.

I believe the Lord told me that you will go there, if you have not already, and He will minister to you deeply and profoundly.

"They shall not hunger nor thirst; neither shall the heat nor sun smite them: for he that hath mercy on them shall lead them, even by the springs of water shall he guide them." (Isa. 49:10)

I also got these verses for you as well: Jer. 31,1 Kin. 17:1-6, Isa. 35:7, 41:18, and Matt. 6:24-34

Take care bro.

Sandor

I think I'm going to head out there tomorrow with my guitar and my Bible to see what God has for me. I could use some quiet time with God to refocus and to recast my vision of my life.

Hills and Valleys

I have some good news and some bad news.

THE GOOD NEWS:

Things are going well right now -- a little too well, perhaps. I keep waiting for something to go wrong, because it doesn't seem entirely natural to me that life is meant to be this... okay.

Megan and I are doing wonderfully. For those of you who may not remember, I mentioned her a few weeks ago (about a month ago actually) in a blog about going to Columbus, Ohio, but haven't really touched on her since. Our semi-pseudo-relationship couldn't possibly be any better than it is right now. Well... If we lived a bit closer to each other, that would make things better. But besides that, we couldn't be better. Albeit true, we have hit a couple really rough patches very early on in our relationship, we are pressing through, staying the course, a thousand points of light.

A thousand points of light...? That doesn't make any sense.

In the words of a dear friend of mine, we are laying low the mountains and filling in the valleys so that we may walk a straighter, more level path.

THE BAD NEWS:

I really don't know what this woman sees in me. This is probably just some self-esteem issue that I need to work out on my own; I'm probably a really great guy with a world of promise to offer. But, when I look in the mirror, I don't see that guy. I don't see the man she describes as "cute," "funny" or "sweet." I don't see the man that she claims to love.

When I look in the mirror, I see a derelict. I look at my shaggy hair and my unkempt beard and I wonder "Only a mother gorilla could love a face like this." I argue that the only reason she even remotely likes me is because we haven't seen each other in a long time -- "You have no idea what I look like now!" (as if I could change so much in one month)

It astounds me that a beautiful, talented woman like her could see anything in a guy like me. It astounds me that ANY girl could see anything in a guy like me. I marvel at the fact that there have been women in my life that have genuinely liked me. I marvel! In fact, there have been two occasions when I've had a girlfriend and it bothered me so much that she liked me that I freaked out and broke up with her. Is this normal behavior?? I'm not so sure it is. I even told Megan the other day, "You should probably end everything with me, move to France and marry a wealthy Parisian who'll bake baguettes for you and drink coffee on Les Champs-Elysees with you everyday." Megan should be with someone who has something to offer -- not me.

It just doesn't make sense to me.

Maybe I'm being a little harsh on myself. Again, this is probably a self-esteem issue that I need to work out for myself.

Maybe.

MORE GOOD NEWS:

I really love my job. This summer, just like the summers of the two years previous to this one, I am working at the swimming pool at Courtyards Village West Apartments in North Aurora. That's right -- I'm the poolboy.

Okay, it's true -- this picture was taken two years ago, when I was still moderately attractive, but there's not much different about this job today than the way it was two years ago. I still sit around with awesome sunglasses, working on a tan and reading. So far, this summer, in only five days at the pool, I've started and finished three books. The best part of all, is that I actually get paid for this! And I get paid well! I really shouldn't be making more than minimum wage for the work I do there, in all honesty.

MORE BAD NEWS:

I need help, everyone.

I need prayer. I need grace. I need motivation.

As you all know, I just moved home to Yorkville and, already, I am itching to get out of here. Living here is going to be such a trial and I'm going to need to have such an enormous amount of motivation to keep myself going without getting bogged or dragged down.

My mom and stepdad, Bob, hate each other -- a lot. They have both filed for divorce from each other numerous times, but, for some reason, stay together and keep hating each other. My sister, Morgan, is always caught in the middle of it and I pity her.

My mother is an egomaniacal, self-centered, self-serving, sociopathic woman. In spite of her marriage -- a holy vow of loyalty to one spouse made before God Himself (which she has now made four times) -- she has a handful of boyfriends on the side that I know about and who knows how many others that I don't know about. She's not ashamed of her extramarital love life at all -- the other day, she even let me listen to a voicemail that one of her suitors left while he was drunk. "Hey baby -- give me a call back sometime." Why the hell is my mom showing me this??

Last night, I came home from my best friend's, the Jorays, house around 12:30 only to find Mom in the living room, on the phone to one of her boyfriends while her husband was sound asleep upstairs. There are times that she leaves in the middle of the night and doesn't come home until 6 or 7 the next morning.

Then there's Bob -- a lazy, lazy, lazy man who does nothing to help and nothing to better himself. He comes home from work, plops down in his easy chair, reclines it and watches television for the rest of the night. And he doesn't move. He falls asleep in that chair around midnight (with the television still on), wakes up at 7, then watches whatever show is on the channel he fell asleep to until he has to go to work. I leave the house, he is watching TV. I come home and he is still watching TV.

I cannot stay in this toxic environment much longer. If I stay here longer than the summer, I am going to implode. This behaviour is going to chip away and chip away at me until I am reduced to a pile of dust that is whisked away by the faintest wind.

So Long, DeKalb

As promised, I am updating my blog to fill you in on some things you have probably missed unless you are intimately acquainted with me...

. . . .

The most drastic change is my new surroundings. Well, maybe not "new" so much as it is "familiar;" I moved home, last week, to Yorkville, Illinois. Glorious, glorious Yorkville. Everyone knows I lost my job back in January, and it may come as no surprise that I endured the entirety of my six month unemployment benefits period without finding a job. Sure I sent out well over 150 resumes in those six months and only interviewed with three companies, but I just couldn't manage to land a position.

I think, when you're unemployed for six months and have no prospects, it's time to start packing and head home.

A few friends disagreed -- they thought I should stay in DeKalb and "stick it out." Well, that's a nice sentiment and I do appreciate their desire for me to stay around so that we can continue our friendships in a more geographically desirable situation, but I think that "sticking it out" in DeKalb would have ultimately been wildly irresponsible on a few levels:

1) I have a passionate dislike for DeKalb. Sorry, but it's true. Northern Illinois University is a wonderful school and a great campus, but the rest of DeKalb is a hodgepodge mosaic of down and outers, stragglers, rednecks, yuppies and other scary, scary people. The town is run down and has no real cultural hotspot besides The House Cafe (which, I will admit, is fantastic) and a series of bars. I've been wanting to leave DeKalb from the moment I got there. There's absolutely nothing for me there. To have stayed would have been to perpetuate my misery.

2) My understanding is that the unemployment benefits period expires after six months. Two weeks from today will mark the sixth month that I've been unemployed and so, to my understanding, I will stop receiving handouts from the government then. It would be foolish for me to stay in DeKalb when I can't pay my rent nor any of my bills.

3) If I'm going to achieve any of my goals (namely, moving to Ireland, traveling, buying a house, opening up my used bookstore), I'm going to need to save up money. Unfortunately, I cannot think of a career in DeKalb that will enable me to do that whilst paying the outrageous amount for rent I was being charged. Furthermore, living in Yorkville puts me closer to the places where work will be easier to find (Aurora, Naperville, Oswego, Chicago). Living at home, where I have no rent or utilities, will enable me to save exponentially more money than I would have been able to save on my own.

4) It's time to do something different. Retreating to homebase will allow me to gather my thoughts, calm down, get perspective, reorganize, recast my visions and more focus to follow through.

So it is "So long, DeKalb!" Don't hear me wrong -- as excited as I am to be out of that place, it is going to be a strange experience moving home. First and foremost, I am going to miss some of the people I am leaving behind. Inasmuch as I am, in a way, "leaving them behind," I want them all to know that I'm not abandoning nor forsaking my relationships. Just because I live in Yorkville doesn't mean we're not friends anymore. Right? I will have some fond memories of DeKalb, though those memories won't have anything to do with the town itself -- my memories will be of the people that helped me get through the past few years.

And now that I'm home, I will have all the time in the world to reflect on those memories. I've been living here in Yorkville for about five days now.

Things are okay.

Things are decent.

Things are what they are.

I knew going into this that this wasn't going to be a bed of roses, or a walk in the park, or a walk through a bed of roses. I knew that moving back to my chaotic, dysfunctional home would be a challenge -- I knew it would be a dogfight keeping myself motivated to face another day. I am going to need God's grace to be able to make it here. I understand that.

I am hopeful that by strangely looking forward, I will make it through this.

Where Was My Welcome Committee?

Today is my first day back home. I just spent the last three days on a road trip that sent Josh, Sam, Aaron and I through Indiana, into Ohio and back again. This trip was designed to allow Josh the opportunity to visit his brother and sister-in-law and for him to explore the possibility of attending seminary at Ashland University (www.ashland.edu/seminary). On the way home, I was going to get the chance to meet Megan -- a young lady I've been conversing with over the past few weeks. For all of us, the trip was meant to be eye-opening, revealing and an opportunity to find our callings, our destinations and, ultimately, ourselves.

Until I talked to Megan about the possibility of meeting on Friday, on our way home, I was just going to tag along for the ride -- I don't have anything better to do since I don't have a job and the friends I hang out with the most were going on this trip. So the first two days of the trip, I reasoned, had little to nothing to do with me -- I'm not interested in going to seminary, I'm not really too interested in moving to Ohio and I can't even find a job in Illinois, let alone one in Ohio!

I did manage, though, to find a hint of direction for my life in those first two days.

Visiting Ashland Seminary was an incredible experience. The staff and faculty -- particularly Eric and Glenn -- that helped us out were some of the coolest people I've met. Since that particular day was reserved for counseling majors, and since Josh isn't interested in counseling, there wasn't much for the two of us to do. Realizing that, Glenn and Eric stepped up to the plate to show us around the campus themselves, giving us a personalized tour. Glenn took us out for coffee, paying for our drinks from his own pocket, then walked us around the Ashland University campus and explained what services would be available to us as students. He also showed us the chapel that the church he pastors meets in.

After that, we took part in one of the seminary's chapel services. Josh and I both had a profound spiritual experience in that place. At eleven in the morning. On Thursday.

It just goes to show you that the Spirit is always available. Always.

During lunch, Glenn and Eric both sat with us and we discussed television and music and movies and comedians and politics; we even discussed the possibility of the school adding a new concentration (creative writing) to their Masters of Divinity degree -- very real things. These two people stripped themselves of their recruiter roles and became very real people.

After lunch, Eric took Josh and I to their archaeology museum. And by that, I mean "Eric broke into the archaeology museum for us."

There's a part of me that kinda wants to go to seminary after that experience. Perhaps I will blog on this later.

The next day, we went to Columbus and had an amazing time in an amazing city. There's a big part of me that would like to move there someday. Perhaps I will blog on this later too.

For me, meeting Megan was the highlight of the trip. I will definitely blog on this later.

I hated coming home. "Home." Home to a town I can't stand, to a house I can't stand, to a neighborhood I can't stand. "Home." Home to a place I've been wanting to leave since the moment I got here.

And where was my welcoming committee? All my friends knew I was in Ohio, or at least had plenty of resources available to find out I was in Ohio. I updated my Twitter several times, I even talked to some of them while on the road. Megan was the only one to ask me how my trip was when I got back. My welcoming committee was a hundred drunk NIU students milling about in the streets, partying and holding up traffic.

Don't hear me wrong -- I'm not complaining about my friends or anything like that. I'm not throwing myself a pity party here. What I am saying, though, is that in my mind, all of the events of the past three days are incredibly indicative of what I should be doing with my life. It could very well be time to move and Columbus, Ohio could very well be the place to move.

I'll be counting on a miracle to make that a reality, but I serve a great, big God Who specializes in the miraculous.

I'm not worried.

* * *

Be on the lookout for another couple of blogs, chronicling the events of the past three days.