While I’m sitting here typing, my wife is running. She’s a runner. And while I love that about her, I don’t really get it. I understand it logically/cerebrally, but not in any other way. And it turns out, the “other ways” are the ways that matter–the ways that make the difference.

My wife is training. She’s going to be a part of a team in September who will together run a 183 mile relay marathon. Why? Great question. I don’t understand THAT on any level.

But if I were to guess, the reason might have something to do with facing a challenge, looking at it in the eyes (or belt buckle–depending on the size of the challenge) and saying, “You don’t scare me.”

Just less than an hour ago, as my wife was heading out the door and adjusting her iPod earbuds, I sat down in the rocking chair (I sound old, don’t I?) to look at a magazine. It’s a magazine produced by a Christian publisher, and it’s one that I’ve learned to really like a lot. Since I had already read the article on sex, I thought I’d see what else was in this, the latest issue.

And while I flipped through the pages, picking out a page here, and a paragraph there that caught my eye, my mind started to wander and began to wonder…”What am I doing?” That question quickly led to “Why am I doing this?”

Sounds silly, and perhaps far too philosophical for real life (or a blog), but I honestly found myself wondering what drew me to that magazine, that rocking chair, next to that lamp, for those few minutes. One reason stands alone: Growth.

Somewhere within each one of us is an insatiable desire to become something other than what we are. It sent my wife out the door to train for a 183 mile relay, and it sent me to that rocker to find out, dwell in, and work on improving an(y) area of my life where something is lacking.

And as a follower of Christ, I find myself in constant need of growth. I am so often lagging so far behind Him–far more often than I would care to admit. Most days, when the eyes of my emotions would consider Him just a speck on the horizon, the reality of His grace reminds me that He is constantly moving at MY pace. HE’S the one who is actually IN me. Absurd, isn’t it?

But the disparity between who I am and who I believe He deserves is a chasm that actually doesn’t quench my spirit. On the contrary–it alivens my step. It kicks my rear. It says, “Grow.”

Because I believe the Spirit of God is cheering me on. And not from a far off sideline; from within this fallible, fumbling, flawed man He calls “friend”.

But the inner battle rages doesn’t it? Case in point: I say I want to get that six-pack stomach before summer gets here, and yet I’m drawn to ice cream like a moth to a flame. The battle rages indeed.

But here’s the kicker. I’m a “Discipleship Pastor”. I’m not kidding. Those two words are actually next to each other in my ministry title. Read this blog again, get to this point, and feel free to laugh aloud. And when someone hears and asks what you’re laughing at, do me a favor; don’t blow my cover. Tell them you were just remembering a Seinfeld or something.

So, its no wonder then that I am consumed with the issue of growth. And here’s something that will make you sad. I usually think about the growth of students over my own growth. I know, I know. I can hear my college professor, close friend, and mentor Len Kageler telling me that I’ve got to lead from experience, that I can’t take anyone where I haven’t already been, and that if I’m not feeding my spirit, what will I have to give to students? But I continually find it difficult to read a passage of Scripture and say, “Boy Jerry, you needed that. That was God’s gift to you today. Take that, digest it, allow it to penetrate your heart, and live it out with His help.” Instead my mind skips all that and goes to, “Boy, that would be an awesome lesson at youth group next time I speak. I can see those slides on the screen now! What graphics and imagery should I use to really drive that point home? Oh, I know the perfect way to close up the message, and really make it memorable for those students. Wow, I bet some of ’em will even cry! This is gonna be awesome!”

(I just deleted 2 full paragraphs that I typed, looked over, and wasn’t sure if I even agreed with myself. See what I mean when I say “flawed”? And I’m supposed to help people grow?)

So, in order to move from bloggishly rhetorical to hopefully practical, I’d like to offer myself some advice:

1. Remember your first love.
The truth is, I’m in love with Jesus. Might not seem like it to anybody but me (Lord knows the evidence is sometimes against me), but it’s true. I love Him for saving me. I love Him for putting up with me. I love Him for steering my life in a way that has, among countless other blessings, brought me the most phenomenal woman for a wife and 4 unbelievable kids. I love Him for even using me to somehow do something in other people’s lives. I love Him because He loved me first. And not just first–but before He created the world or anything in it. I love Him because…oops, I got distracted. Did I mention how patient He is with me?
But when I forget that this is a love affair, this relationship turns into just a religion. And that turns into a list of rules. And that turns into routine. And that turns into a rut. And that turns into Rigor mortis.

2. Take His Word seriously. Take it for all it is, all it has, and all it says; even though I still don’t know most of it.
So, is the Bible…
A. A love letter
B. A history book, or
C. A manual for right living?
The answer? Yes.
God’s Word tells me to “study”. It also tells me to “love”. It also tells me how to handle situations with grace, benevolence, compassion, and mercy.
God’s Word tells me to grow. So, by God, I better grow.

3. Be watching.
Maybe its just me, but I see and hear God teaching me most clearly through everyday occurances of life. Read most of the blogs I’ve ever written, and you’ll see they are nothing more than an attempt to convey how I am constantly reminded of God’s truth through what happened to me that day. It’s not like I was studying God’s Word–more like God’s Word was studying me. So, I always try and chronicle the things God is teaching me. And my life (for me) becomes a long string of supporting evidence that God’s Word is true.

As I look back over this blog, I can’t help but think that it seems incomplete. I’ve read it over a few times and beyond looking for grammatical errors and spelling mishaps, I’ve looked for ways to better it. But the fact that I’m coming up short is, I suppose, proving the very point I’ve endeavored to make. The growth that I need is so indelibly linked to the ways that I lack.

And I can either look at that lack and pout, or I can look at that lack and see the image of His fullness. Therein, growth is my living out the life that God already sees.

I went to Starbucks today. The reason? One free drink with my name on it and 20 minutes of an armchair with my behind’s name on it. Let me back up.

I went to Starbucks last week. I ordered a tall decaf. Brewed. You know: drip, drip, drip. That kind of coffee. As in: coffee. With a smile, the cheery barista told me it’d be a few minutes since they were just now brewing a fresh pot of decaf drip. “No problem”, I thought and said, my appointment was late to arrive anyway. I had time.
So, while the fresh decaf was dripping, I sat on the leather couch. Devoid of any reading material of my own, and despising the newspaper that Starbucks carries, I simply sat.

And sat.

And sat.

And sat.

I thought to myself, “Hmm…I sure do want some decaf.” But I’m a patient person. Ask my wife.

So, finally, with politeness in my step and a smile on my face, I mustered the gumption to investigate what was going on with the MIA decaf. Just as I approached the countoured partition separating me from the wonderment of the barista’s realm, the same cheery gal who took my order walked around the counter, decaf in hand, and toward me with a smile. As she did, she reached over the frosted glass and grabbed some type of slip of paper. Apologetically, she told me that she had simply forgotten about me and was so sorry to make me wait. Then she handed me the slip of paper. With verbage and verbosity that rivals even yours truly, I had received a heartfelt note from Mr. Starbucks himself, apologizing (in form letter) for my inconvenience and stating that my next cup was on him. Or them. Or it. Or however you choose to identify the juggernaut of Starbucks. You get the point.

So, back to today.

I had approx. 20 minutes to enjoy my free drink. And here’s a tip: When Starbucks gives you a piece of paper that entitles you to a free drink, get the biggest, most expensive drink they offer. And I did just that. So, it ended up that I paid $1.53 for a tall decaf and got my decaf (eventually) PLUS a Venti Java Chip Frappucino for $4.85. Take that, Starbucks. Vengenance was theirs however; most of the chips didn’t fit easily through the straw. I had to suck hard enough to turn my face inside out to get it through. “Who’s laughing now?”, Starbucks says with a grin.

So, I got my drink, had a book in hand I have long wanted to at least start. And within moments of ordering and receiving my free slice of paradise, someone I know walked in behind me. And not just someone, but someone who needs attention…..MY attention. Someone whom I care deeply about, but don’t have any more answers for. Someone who consumed >15 of my 20 minutes. So, with 4 minutes and a handful of seconds, I got as much reading of that book in as I could. I’m on page 2 of chapter 1.

But you know what? Even that 4+ minutes was refreshing. Even such a brief retreat was a retreat nonetheless. Even with barely no time at all, I stood up, walked out, and found my step a bit peppier. Why? I’ll tell you my guess.

When we rest–even briefly–we touch the Divine. And in case you don’t know me or know what my backdrop is, when I say “Divine”, I mean “God”. And when I say “God”, I mean the God of the Bible. The YAHWEH of the Old Testament and the MESSIAH of the New Testament. When we rest, we reflect the nature and person of God.

God is never hurried.
God is never overscheduled.
God is never overcommitted.
God is never strained, stressed, or strapped for time.
God is never rushed.
God is never late.
God is never early.
God is never even slightly winded by the things that exhaust me.

And when we rest, we come in contact with His character, the very being of our Creator.

So, with my total of 4 minutes of quiet rest and retreat, though I wished for more, I was able to walk out and back to my day reminded that the rest of my day was His.

Click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click….
That’s the sound of the last 11 years as we’ve ridden the roller coaster up the first hill of the ride called “Parenting A Teen”. At this moment, we’re at the top, tipping over the first drop and holding on to the lap bar with white knuckles and smiles mixed with trepidation, exhilaration, and a touch of nausea.
Well, we’re the parents of an 11 year old girl. And as a youth pastor for lo these many years, I’ve watching thousands of teens step through the door of pre-adolescence. But few people understand that that first step usually means that they turn in most of their brain function and trade it for strides toward self-identification, social acceptance, and overall funky malaise.
Today is class picture day at our (pre-teen) daughter’s school. Remember those days? And today’s drama was focused on white pants that her Mom wanted her to wear vs. the green pants SHE wanted to wear. She wore the white pants with a scowl. Should make for a lovely class picture!
An no amount of rational thought coming from us could penetrate the steel fortress of a pre-teen brain. It’s just too unplugged.
Just a couple of days ago, Merritt (my wife) called from the other room after observing Madison’s suddenly erratic behavior–and said, “Our daughter just turned into a teenager!” No joke, I’ve seen things happen in the pre-teen years, where it’s as if somebody literally reached in and flipped a switch on the inside wall of their skull; the switch that reads “polite” on one side and “psychopath” on the other.
Ah, the joys of parenting.

I got an email recently that was lengthy, kind of preachy, and quite predictable in its ending.

Apparently, the amount of love I have for God is linked directly to how many people I forward that email to. The email was also broadly accusational toward anyone who would not forward the email to their entire email address book, because not doing so meant I was ashamed of being a follower of God. The author of said email pulled out the tried and true Bible verse I like to call the “uzi of guilt”… “But if anyone denies me before men, I will also deny him before my Father in heaven.” (Matt. 10:33) Really? Are we going to stretch out the definition of fervency for God to include how many people I forward an email to? Really? I can see myself standing before the God of the Universe as He says, “Yes, Jerry, I know you believe that I sent my Son to pay the price for your sin. I know I said I forgive you. I know that you spent your life loving people and serving Me…but it comes down to this: Remember that email you got in April of 2008? How many people did you forward that email to? Was it your whole address book? No? Well, I’m afraid that you’ve damned yourself to eternal hell. Next time you’d better think before deleting.”

I’d be more offended if I wasn’t so busy laughing. But it got me thinking. And its about time, too. If you only gauged that by my blog entries, you’d think I haven’t done that in over a month.

Last night, I sat in a Taco Bell with 8 high school students around a couple of tables and talked. At first, it was just catching up with each other and talking about life. But then we turned our attention to John 2:1-11. Look it up and read it if you want to. It’s here.

It was a wedding at Cana. And Jesus was just Jesus as far as anybody really knew. He was Jesus like Bob was Bob, and Stephanie was Stephanie; nothing really setting him apart was special. Sure, he had called disciples; but that’s what Rabbis did. The weirdest thing that had happened up to that point in Jesus’ life was that a voice was heard from heaven at his baptism; the voice of God saying that He was (and is) pleased with Jesus. Other than that (if you can overlook it), nothing peculiar. No walking on water. No waking up dead people. No 5 loaves, 2 fish, and 5,000 men to feed. Just Jesus.

So, it’s no wonder that Jesus for the first time recorded in Scripture says “No” to His mom. Jesus was at this wedding party (and parties then are not like parties today. They pale in comparison). And as often happened…the wine ran out.

Now, I’m not too shy to stop right here and point out something that probably most followers of Christ and even “church-goers” have long wrestled with…what’s Jesus doing with a glass of wine in his hand?!? I mean, c’mon Jesus…you’re making us churchy people uncomfortable! Put that wine down! Did Jesus really drink wine? I mean WINE?!? You know…WINE!?!

I don’t want to take the time to get into the argument of “was it wine or grape juice?” I’ll just leave it at the fact that my understanding of the Bible, Jewish culture, and exposition leaves me with no other choice than to accept that this drink was in fact wine, which is the fermented grape juice, and therefore containing alcohol, and so consequently having the power to allow people to be drunk. Yep, that kind of wine. (After all, if John had meant grape juice, wouldn’t he have described it as “grape juice”?)

So, the wine runs out early–too early. The party’s wasn’t over (is it ever?) and the wine was gone. So Jesus’ mom comes to Him since she knows who He is and the power He has. I love the fact that Mary calls on Jesus’ power not for the purpose of healing a sick person or casting out a demon, but because the booze was gone. To me, that’s just hilarious.

But Jesus initially says “No” to His mom’s request. Actually, it was worded, “Dear woman, why do you involve me?” He probably used that line when she complained about a mess in his bedroom at home.

Mary: “Jesus, you need to pick up that room before you go outside to play!”

Jesus: “Dear woman, why do you involve me?”

And it wasn’t that Jesus didn’t care about the wine situation. It’s that He knew what time it was and what time is wasn’t. And then, something weird happened. His mom trumped him with the Mom Card. Even after Jesus clearly states that his time is not yet come, that is, that he is not ready for his “close-up”; not ready to be revealed as who He is, Mary ignores him. She turned to the servants (putting Jesus on the spot), and said, “Do whatever he tells you to do.”

So, a few minutes go by and 6 servants carry about 150 gallons of wine back to the party.

Yep, I typed that right: 150 GALLONS. Not a couple more bottles, not a case, but 150 gallons. Not only that, but when the master of the party tasted the wine he questioned the groom as to why in the world would he save the good stuff til later? Every self-respecting party-goer knows that you put the good stuff out first! I mean, it only makes sense–let the partiers get drunk on the best stuff, and then bring out the cheap stuff when nobody knows or cares about the difference. I mean, duh.

But this account of Jesus’ first miracle wraps up with a peculiar distinction. It was well before the wedding in Cana that Jesus had called His disciples. So, they were already following him and most likely right there with him at the wedding feast. They were disciples only in the sense of following, but look what happened after the party: “He thus revealed his glory, and the disciples put their faith in him.” (John 2:11)

Is it possible to follow Christ without putting your faith in Him? Is it possible that thousands, even tens of thousands, even millions of “followers” have yet to put their faith in Jesus? Is it possible that there are church buildings filled every week with followers who remain faithless?

This music video was made by a fellow youth pastor in California. If you have ever been to or led an overnighter, then you most likely won’t do it again–I denounced them years ago. Enjoy.

It’s the sure sign that the well is dry. When the blogger goes to blogging for the simple sake of blogging something. It’s pitiful–even pathetic. But here I am. Blogging.

Why the obligatory blog? Or shall we say “oblogatory”?

It’s really quite sad. The reason–shame. Pure and simple.
I’ve looked at other blogs and find mine stale and lacking. So, what do I do? I buckle down, take a deep breath, and come what may: produce something…ANYTHING.

See that “x” in the upper right hand corner? (Or the small red dot in the left corner for all you hippy mac users)
Go ahead. I deserve it.

Or stay. And join me while I pound out my thoughts with the sole company of Jon & Kate + 8 warbling in the background. Oops…commercial now. That gecko again.

Okay, Jerry. Enough. Put down something with substance.
My thoughts lately? How can the God who claims to be the same yesterday, today, and forever; the self-proclaimed “Alpha and Omega” do anything new? How can the thing I see Him doing all around me and even within me really be the “new thing” He says he’s doing..and has been doing…and will be doing? I think it’s because it is His character, His attributes, His personality that are constant; not His ways. His ways today are not (or at least do not seem to be) His ways of yesterday. Or last week. Or last year. He seems to be an ever-moving paradox of constant sameness that is never able to be figured out, pinned down, or defined. He moves in mysteries, He delights in confounding. But not in a way that seeks to frustrate those who would seek Him. It is the way I play hide and seek with my kids. Am I hiding? You better believe it. But the point of hiding is the joy of finding, isn’t it?

And He shocks, doesn’t He? How many times have I heard from other followers of Jesus, “I know I shouldn’t be surprised by what God did…but I am.” I think we SHOULD be surprised by what God does. Even when it’s the hundredth time He’s done it–because who are we to be interacting with this God at all? Any hint of familiarity between us and God can ever only flow in one direction. He knows us precisely and eternally. We know Him barely today and not much at all tomorrow. We walk with Him and find Him as astounding as when He spoke a word and there—–an ocean.

But it is in the mystery, the shocks, the unexpecteds, the wow-He-did-it-agains, that we can take the most comfort and strength. For it is His great joy to lead us in a way that is wonder-making. It is His very character to create awe with each movement. And it is ours to enjoy it.