The Wounded Warrior

Lemon Saffron Soup.

deathbeforedenial — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 08:23:04 +0000

I was hanging out with Sami, and Decided to cook. I started off with:

A strong chicken stock (faked with bouillon)

A good bit of Chicken (boneless skinless)

A pinch of saffron strands (spanish)

8 or so lemons (medium sized)

Dill (I used dried, it’d be delish with fresh.)

2 med. sized onions (chopped w/ slapchop)

1 bag of egg noodles (large)

Pepper (The black kind)

Garlic (5 or so cloves and a good tablespoon of garlic powder)

I precooked the chicken, and then boiled all the ingredients together in a big pot!

Delish!

Thanks for hanging out with me Samster.

Chew on this.

deathbeforedenial — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 04:45:52 +0000

For some reason it won’t let me post the video!
Step 1: Click this link! http://www.soulpancake.com/view_post/345747/where-was-god-on-911.html

Step 2: Watch the video.

Step 3: Discuss!

Rookies.

deathbeforedenial — Sun, 31 May 2009 22:39:04 +0000

If you are willing to be a bad Christian, you are ready to be a true Christian. If you insist on being a good Christian, you will never get on your way to experiencing a real life of faith. The pursuit to be a good Christian is an illegitimate quest.You must be a bad Christian or no Christian at all.

All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away (Isaiah 64:6).

When we set out to follow Christ, sometimes we expect to look like a champion marathoner. We envision ourselves running steadily on a dirt path through a beautiful amber canyon at dawn, a bird chirping while a gentle wind conveniently nudges us forward. But as many of us have already experienced, there is a gap between the ideal and the actualbetween fantasy Christianity and real Christianity. Instead of running like a champion, we run like a college freshman making a mad dash for the campus shuttle that is pulling away from the curb. Complete with spilled coffee on our shirt, heavy backpack slugged over one shoulder and arms flailing, we yell, Wait!

And you wonder: Am I going to be a rookie-Christian forever?

The short answer is: Yes. When we recognize Jesus Christas the only “expert” Christian, we will realize that even the best we can offer is not so hot. Nobody has it together. Not Billy Graham, not Charles Spurgeon, not R.C. Sproul, not even Mr. Mere Christianity himself, C.S. Lewis. Only Jesus had it together. No believer will ever “arrive” at the apex of discipleship; only Jesus arrived. On the spectrum of Christ-likeness, every one of us will (for the rest of our lives) have to settle somewhere in between total success and total failure.

I find being a rookie-Christian repulsive, and yet … strangely attractive. Rookies are amateurs, goof-ups, and beginners, immature and inexperienced. These are not words I would choose to describe the kind of person Iaspire to be. In fact, these are words I would use to describe a bad Christian. There is nothinginitially appealing about being a rookie; that is, until you consider the qualifications required to be a “good Christian. Think of it. To be considered a good Christian, youd have to think all the right thoughts, say all the right words, do all the right things and have all the right motivations all the time. Basically, you’d have to be Jesus. If that attempt isnt a slow and painful death, then I dont know what is! And yet, so often I place this heavy yoke of being a good Christian on myself. So often, in my efforts to be a faithful, worthy disciple, I end up killing myself. Because in order to be good, holy, upright and blameless, I have to resist my humanity, deny my limitations and suppress my fears. On top of that, I have to feed a secret desire to be like God. Having it “together” comes at a high, yet impossible price.

God loves rookies. God loves those who stumble toward Him. The beauty of the Gospel is this: We do not have to be Jesus. But we do have to be His disciples: imperfect, fallible, selfish and sinful, yet deeply loved, always accepted and ever changing to be more like Christ. We do not have to get over our weaknesses; we only have to get used to them. My pastor once said, We live and minister out of weakness. Every time I remember this, I breathe a sigh of relief. Christian growth is not turning every one of our weaknesses into strengths, but learning how to live with our weaknesses (I said weaknesses, not sins.) If we want to be a strong Christian, we must learn how to be a weak person: dependent as a branch, malleable as a heap of clay, needy as a baby. When we realize that we bring nothing to our relationship with God except a broken heart and contrite spirit, it is then we will experience Gods grace to be sufficient, and Gods love to be unfailing. Paul understood this, saying, For when I am weak, then I am strong (2 Corinthians 12:10).

We should be grateful that God never asks us to “get it together.” He only asks us to admit our need for the One who had it together and allow Him to represent and change us. Believe it or not, God is content with our needs and our shortcomings. He proved this by choosing to die for us when we were in our worst (but also our truest) condition while we were sinners. Chances are, you are still a sinner. And the last time I checked, I’m still one, too.

Webcams are fun!

deathbeforedenial — Wed, 20 May 2009 05:54:58 +0000

Sorry I haven’t blogged lately….

deathbeforedenial — Tue, 19 May 2009 19:23:51 +0000

….working on a new format hopefully. We’ll see if it’s viable or not.

deathbeforedenial — Fri, 08 May 2009 06:18:59 +0000

By Dana Candler from her book “Deep Unto Deep – The Journey of His Embrace”

———
Hope. For me it is a painful reality. Perhaps, my dearest friend in this season. For I am indeed a prisoner of hope. Yet hope does not always come dressed in celebration clothes of happy attire. Just when I am about to settle into a dreary, yet comfortable place of unbelief, hope returns to take away every ounce of my fictitious rest, and I am once again caught up in a place of desperately crying out for the promises of God. Without hope, I could abandon every promise forgetfully behind me. But hope anchors me to a realm unseen. Hope continually draws me upward while every accusation pulls me down toward the darkness of this prison. If it were not for a living hope, I could hang pictures on these prison walls and make it my home forever. But hope keeps me ever rattling at the door. Hope keeps me crying out for what my eyes cannot see and my mind can rarely imagine. I hope for my release. I hope in a delivering God that sets the captives free. I hope in a God who created seasons that are every changing. Will He not also change this season of mine?

In my pain, some might think, I have lost my hope. Really, it is hope that keeps my heart alive. My pain is proof that my heart has not yet died. Within these prison walls, one still cries, one still weeps, one still cries out for release. One is still alive. It is my only option. To live satisfied in this prison would be to live as though dead. To become accustomed to this silence and adapt to these walls would be to live a hopeless life. I am a prisoner of hope. Hope gives me eyes into the outer world…..into the world beyond….the unseen realm. Hope keeps me alive.

I am a prisoner of hope. In this prison, I am kept alive because of a living hope. Everyday I search my horizon for any sign of my Beloved. Yes, there are days when that hope wears bright eyes and a smile; but most days it wears a gnawing ache and many tears. Yet always it keeps my heart alive–never rattling at the door, ever crying out for deliverance. Hope, my companion. Hope, my friend. Hope…ever keeping my heart alive.

Friday Five.

deathbeforedenial — Fri, 08 May 2009 04:24:59 +0000

1. If you could live in any period in history other than now, when would it be?

Definitely the 80′s. It was the cusp of the computer age, the music was amazing, and the girls had big hair. What more could you want?
2. What knowledge or skills do you think you’d have to learn to be able to fit in your chosen period of history?

Nothing I don’t know already. Maybe how to fit into that tight of jeans.
3. If you could take just one thing from the modern world back with you, what would it be?

My laptop. Blow their minds.

4. What period in history would you hate to have lived in?

The Middle Ages. The mortality rate was staggering, disease was rampant, and there were alot of bloody wars. No thanks.

5. What thing from the past would you like to see make a comeback?

Thos Pogo Ball things from when I was a kid. That or chivalry.

Mystery men.

deathbeforedenial — Fri, 01 May 2009 07:20:58 +0000

In Mystery Men, a movie from a few years back, William H. Macy, Ben Stiller and Hank Azaria starred as a trio of lesser superheroes with fairly unimpressive superpowers. The opening scene is in Champion City, a metropolis in a slightly altered (but not enough to really work) comic book-style reality, where costumed crimefighters (many with mediocre “powers”) are in oversupply, to the point that many of them are out looking for work. Three such individuals are “The Shoveler” (Macy), who can wield a shovel pretty well; “Mr. Furious” (Stiller), who has the “ability” to get very, very angry; and “The Blue Raja” (Azaria), a self-described “effete British superhero” who throws forks and spoons (but refuses to use knives), and wears a green turban (a running joke being that, despite his name, his costume has no blue in it whatsoever). This motley crew arrives to foil a robbery in an old-folks home by a similarly inept band of villains. They are largely incompetent at what they do, and are quickly upstaged by Captain Amazing (Greg Kinnear)—this guy is a genuine superhero, who arrives just in time to save the day and completely upstages the “wannabe” heroes, who are treated as a joke by the police officers, villains, civilians on the scene, and Captain Amazing himself. As far as faith is concerned, there are a lot of Captain Amazings in the Evangelical church. As much as I would like to be, I am not one of them. I feel much more like “Mr. Furious.” I can make lots of noise, express large emotions … but that’s about it. I wish my faith were really big. Don’t misunderstand me, I believe in God most of the time. And I have my moments when I know that I know He is present in my life. But I have moments when I wonder if I’m wrong; times when I have a taste of doubt in my soul. Faith is a tricky business for me—the idea of living my whole life for someone I’ve never seen is a pretty gnarly enterprise. Some claim they never experience tension or doubt in their faith. They seem to project a kind of faith that is always an ecstatic, absolute and full of an unwavering “knowing” that overwhelms them at all times—always clean; forever effervescent; never encroached upon with doubt. These are the super-faith people. I’m just not there. I think the whole nature of faith is untidy, and I would argue God made it that way. I think faith is about persistence in the face of uncertainty and doubt. Some think faith completely eliminates the presence of doubt, and that if doubt is present, it is an indicator that one doesn’t have faith. But I don’t agree. There is a great story in the life of Jesus where He asked a guy if he had faith. The man responded to the Lord, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24) Notice that it is possible to believe and still be wrestling with “unbelief.” It turns out that faith is not about absolute certainty. Just because you have doubts, it does not mean you do not have faith. The guy in the Jesus-story asked that his doubt be “overcome” so that it would not be the prevailing force in his life. It’s a good thing to ask. That is the basic battle of faith—we must fight so that our doubts don’t drown our faith. But there is nothing wrong with the struggle. For many people of faith, the idea of experiencing doubt at all makes them very nervous. They view the questions that rise in their minds as evidence of a lack of faith, which surely disqualifies them from being authentic believers. So they shove their doubts into their subconscious in Pollyanna-ish fashion. But what if it’s not true? What if honest doubt is actually the essence of faith? What if real faith has doubt in the mix, as a coin has two sides? That would mean struggling with doubt is not a lack of faith; it would actually be faith! I think it is healthy to be uncertain every now and then. Frederick Buechner wrote, “Every morning you should wake up in your bed and ask yourself: ‘Can I believe it all again today?’ … At least five times out of 10, the answer should be ‘No’ because the ‘No’ is as important as the ‘Yes,’ maybe more so.” It turns out that considering the “What if it’s true?” juxtaposed up against the “What if it’s not?” is a healthy thing to do spiritually. We should not be ashamed if we are drawn like magnets to the uncertainties and questions inherent in faith. Faith, after all, is not supposed to come naturally. Faith is the venture of human consideration and divine illumination. Only in a world where faith is difficult can faith exist. I believe God wants people of faith to question, to wonder, to get disturbed, to seek for tenable answers. Faith is not the quelling of all sense of doubt, but the result of a choice after one has honestly and earnestly sought to understand. If this is a true description of faith, then faith is more like an intense mud-wrestling contest than anything else. It’s hard, sometimes painful, often disorienting and always messy—certainly not a cheery, no-conflict, refreshingly bubbly, perpetual happy place. Overall, faith has won the day in my soul. Something deep within me—like the E.T.-phone-home beacon—draws me inexorably back to the pursuit of the Holy. But I still get thrown and disturbed from time to time, and I think God likes it that way.

The Art of Following

deathbeforedenial — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 07:10:06 +0000

I can barely get through a day without seeing some kind of ad, email, or marketing for some kind of leadership camp, retreat, or book. As Christian culture, we love the idea of being a leader. We rally around heroes, we base sermons on principles learned from John Maxwell books, and we aspire to be like William Wallace.

But when was the last time you heard of a conference to learn how to be a better follower? Or read a book about Mother Theresa’s undernuns (that’s my term for people who worked for Mama T, which is obviously her street name) We, as the church, spend a lot of time focusing on leadership, when probably at least 60% are followers. In order for a church to work there needs to be leaders and followers. And we should celebrate that fact.

Being a follower is NOT.a bad thing, despite all of the propaganda otherwise. But just like leaders, there are ways to be a good follower or a bad one. Here’s some tips for being a great follower;

1. Recognize and Support your Spiritual Authority

John Bevere wrote an excellent book about this called “Under Cover”, In it he explains that Spiritual Authority is a great covering put in place by God for our protection. This is where I fail the most.I have a severe case of spiritual pride where I think I have the most amazing idea and I try and pull it off without a covering or outside of the covering in place and I fall flat on my face. So support your spiritual authority no matter what, even if you think their idea sucks. And you’ll be blessed for doing so.

2. Recognize your Gifts.

Know what your good at, what your passions are, then chase after it! And if you don’t know, then try everything until something clicks. When you find it, go for it with all you can. Throw yourself behind a leader who has the same passions. And use your resources to hone your skills in whatever field you find yourself in.

3. Be content.

Despite the emphasis on being a leader, if being a follower is your thing, be content with that. Jesus gathered followers around Him. He didn’t go to all the leaders of the day and say, “Hey, all you pharisees, come lead with me, we’ll butt heads and fight all the time!!” Naw, He said follow me and I will make you fishers of men.”

Jesus loves followers.

Church of Stories – For Allie

deathbeforedenial — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 07:30:44 +0000

Until the past century, religions used to give us a place to tell even our worst stories. Depict our most-terrible intentions. Once each week, you could turn your sins into a story and tell them to your peers. Or to a leader, who’d forgive you and accept you back into your community. Each week, you confessed, you were forgiven, and you received communion. You never strayed too far outside the group because you had this regular release. Maybe the most important aspect of salvation is having this forum, this permission and audience, for expressing our lives as a story.
It would be a forum safe enough for you to look terrible.
But as church becomes a place where people go to look good — instead of being the one, safe place where they could risk looking bad — we’re losing that regular storytelling forum. And the salvation, redemption and communion it allows.
Instead, now people go to therapy groups, twelve-step recovery groups, chat rooms, phone-sex hotlines, even writers workshops, to turn their lives and crimes into stories, express them, craft them, and in doing so be recognized by their peers. Brought back into the flock for another week. Accepted.
With this in mind: Our need to turn even the darkest parts of life — especially the darkest parts — into stories… our need to tell those stories to our peers… and our need to be heard, forgiven and accepted by our community . . . how about we start a new religion?
We could call this the “Church of Story.” It would be a performance place where people could exhaust their stories, in words or music or sculpture. A school where people could learn craft skills that would give them more control over their story, and thus their life. This would be a place where people could step out of their lives and reflect, be detached enough to recognize a boring pattern or irrational fears or a weak character and begin to change that. To edit and rewrite their future. If nothing else, this could be a place where people would vent and be heard, and at that point maybe move forward.
It would be a forum safe enough for you to look terrible. Express terrible ideas.
In modern history, frustrated, powerless people have turned to churches. During the last years of segregation, people found each other in churches and recognized they weren’t alone. Their personal problems were not only their own.
This “Church of Story” would give people a forum for connecting. Here, we’d have a regular time and place and permission to tell stories to each other. Instead of ignoring this need or fulfilling it at Starbucks in the window of time created by a cappuccino — or wearing a fake beard and gluing our story on the wall of an art gallery — we could give people the permission and structure they need to gather. To tell stories. To tell better stories. To tell great stories. To live great lives.