John's church plant

I met John one summer at camp. It's crazy to think that if either one of us had chosen a different path that Summer, I may have missed out on one of my most treasured friendships. I remember one particular week of camp when the youth revealed to us beyond a shadow of doubt the propensity towards wickedness in all mankind. All have sinned and fall short of God's glorious standard; try sleeping in a cabin of boys for a night and you will be convinced of that truth. They stole and hid our clothes, put toothpaste in each other's shoes, ran our boxer's up the flag pole (and through poison ivy...I won't explain how we found that one out), pushed a counselor's refurbished, collector's car down a narrow wooded path scratching the paint on the way, snuck out at night, and used my car shocks as their own personal trampoline. When we said one thing, they challenged us to our faces; practicing deliberate disobedience without a hint of remorse. Yet, when it came time for games and hanging out, we became their greatest buddies. The strong confidence we entered the week with had diminished to jello. We were exhausted, and as is the case at camp, we didn't have much free time. In fact, our only moment of peace was hitting the showers. One evening, as we stood in adjacent shower stalls, the hot water easing the stress from our aching muscles, we talked about our campers and the way they were treating us--the utter disrespect wearing us down. I don't know how that train got into the men's shower room, I swear there were no tracks, but it plowed us both at the same time. We saw with heaven sent clarity that we were those campers before our God. There, standing naked in our stalls, we revealed our darkest sins to one another; the ways we each were spitting in the face of our Saviour. Two sinful servants standing in the shower room. John was half dressed by the time I stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, tears falling from our cheeks as we realized who we were and what we had done to our Lord. We embraced each other and prayed.

That's when one of our campers walked in.

It is a bad idea to hug in a shower room while wrapped in a towel (or any state of dress for that matter). It wasn't until later that John and I even considered what our moment of embracing prayer must have looked like to a horribly confused (and potentially scarred) camper. Its fun to look back at the awkwardness of that situation, but even more so, it is amazing to look back and see God grabbing the hearts of two friends, convicting them, and preparing them for the plans He has for each of us.

John inspires me like very few do. At the age of 23, he has already helped form a church, having lay pastored and preached there for over 2 years. Though he has never gone to a Christian college, his passion and utter excitement for learning, growing, and seeking our faith supersedes that of just about anyone I know, as does his knowledge. John loves God, and loves people. Period. God will use him, because he is willing to be used by God.

Three or four summers ago, my sister had a bible study that John's wife made the over an hour long trek from their home town to attend every week. This gave John and I a good chance to meet, play at the park with his little boy, and catch up. One week, John told me of his dreams to plant a church some day. I casually mentioned to him how Winnipeg might be a good city to plant a church, and we (somewhat) jokingly began to dream how wonderful it would be to be in ministry together some day.

Two weeks ago John quit his job to focus full time on preparing for a church plant; his current thought being in Winnipeg! John has his church planting assessment with ConvergeUSA (our church conference--formerly called the Baptist General Conference) in January. It is so exciting to see a dream beginning to sprout some legs. I share these stories to invite you to pray for John as he prepares for this next step, and makes his final decisions as to where God is calling him.

John has also invited me to consider joining him in this church plant. At this point I couldn't even tell you the likelihood of such a possibility becoming reality; only that I am seriously and prayerfully considering it. I beg your prayers for discernment and wisdom in this very important decision. I believe that God can, and will give us each a very clear sense of where he is calling us, and where he can best use us. I do not want my excitement for working with a beloved friend in a familiar city to distract me from any other path God may have planned for me. It would be easy to stop looking elsewhere for ministry positions. Please pray that wherever God takes each of us, that we will humbly follow his lead in obedience and that we will love him and love people. Period.

Bad Real Estate

"This is no gopher hole!"

And now for something completely ordinary

I created my own super hero in third grade. He had his own back story; a dapper young orphan boy with the secret identity of LIGHTNING BOY!(...soon to become Lightning Man--a much more heroic name). My mom even sewed me a costume (under strict design guidelines). After I drew my first draft of my hero, I showed him to one of my friends, who promptly pulled the paper from my hands and said, "Nice, all you need now is this" and carelessly wrote a crooked, jagged "L" on his chest. He took no care to consider how the contours of Lightning Man's muscular physique might affect the way the "L" lay on his chest. He did not consider how the pressure with which he pressed the pencil down upon the paper might make a line much darker then the that seen throughout the rest of the composition. He didn't ask, "Will this "L" match the likeness of the rest of the hero's attire?" No. Instead he made a line that could hardly pass for an "L" even by the standards of a preschooler. Most people would respond by erasing the dastardly line and shading over the mark. My response was to furiously pull my offender's hair. I am sure I almost scalped the poor guy. It took me a few moments to realize fire was shooting from my eyeballs, and that I had gone all Hulk on the poor kid before I sheepishly apologized.

Oh the irony of ironies. I find now that my greatest joy of artistic expression is to take another's piece of art and to draw upon it. Hypocrite that I am, There really isn't any form of expression that I currently enjoy more. I have begun to take old paintings (prints only is my rule...it would be a true shame to ruin someones original), and draw ironic scenes over top. I don't know precisely what it is about my generation that seems to so greatly appreciate the ironic...art, fashion, music, literature...maybe these pieces are my tongue in cheek way of pointing out how we are continually corrupting the natural beauty of God's creation with commercialization and cheap thrills. Maybe our joy in irony is simply the recognition that their truly is nothing new under the sun, and so we simply strive to find new ways of looking at the old. All I know for sure is that I get a kick out of the ironic. I mean really, there is nothing cool about an old man's cardigan sweater....but seriously, old cardigan's are awesome!

A Toast to Maturity

Summer is coming to an end. The days are getting shorter. The occasional leaf is shedding its green for a coat of yellow, with reds and oranges anxiously awaiting their turn. The air is getting warmer--huh? what!?! (...strange dyslexic Minnesota--reading our seasons backwards!). It is a time of new beginnings, and has always been a favorite time of year for me.

This warm air is filled with even more excitement then in years passed now that I am no longer a student. As Summer's end quickly approaches, I realize I have written nothing about what God has been doing in my life since I stepped from a stage, tassel bobbing and clinging to my beard, with an expensive piece of paper--the result of several years of studying (and falling asleep) in the library--held proudly in my hand. Soon after graduating, I had my 24th birthday. There are a few birthdays that are significant moments in a young persons life--16, when a crazy young person is allowed behind the wheel of several hundred pounds of fast moving metal, 18, when a crazy young person is allowed to choose our country's leaders, and 21, when a crazy young person is allowed to consume intoxicating beverages; but for me 24 hit with a wave of intensity that no birthday before has. Walls of panic and depression began to close in on me as I experienced a "crisis" (here's hoping its not mid life; I'd like to at least reach 50!). I began to recognize that I have been acting like...a crazy young person. Though I have technically been an adult for 6 years, there is very little to suggest that fact. "Man" is a title that should be earned. There are far to many 20-something, 30-something boys--and I am one of them. I am not a man, and seeing that scared and saddened my heart. Though I have held many leadership roles throughout my life, many of which have been in areas of ministry, I am beginning to see the depravity of my own spiritual maturity. I have pridefully viewed myself as a "mature Christian" when I am still living as a child in my faith. I have began to see that there is very little scripture stored in my heart, and lots of garbage taking residence. I had the wonderful opportunity to work at a bible camp this summer, something that most twenty-somethings don't get the opportunity to do, and God revealed a lot to me there. With the majority of my co-workers being under 20, I was impressed with their commitment to working hard, and serving God. They spurred me on in ways they may not realize, and I hope I did the same for them.

I believe that perhaps I have convinced many others (as I convinced myself) of a spiritual maturity in my life, but maturity spreads its roots deeply into integrity; it is not merely who I am in the public eye, but who I am when all alone that speaks of my maturity. God opened a door for me to meet with other Christian men on a weekly basis to talk about our hidden selves--the behind the door selves; the hidden boys that keep us from being open, honest, and Godly men. I am not there yet, but at least now I can say I'm trying.

This summer I told many embarrassing stories from my life to campers around the campfire with the hope of drawing analogies that teach. "Stupid moments from the life of Tyler--that teach." I will try once again.

Every September, Providence has a Welcome Banquet for all the students to usher in a new year. A few years back, as I sat dressed in my finest (a thrift shop suit) at a beautifully decorated table amidst some of my favorite people, in dim candle light with the murmuring of people visiting after a summer apart, my friend across from me said, "Tyler, we haven't visited for quite some time. We should have a nice, deep conversation." I responded by lifting my cup of tea, saying, "Yes we should," and then dumping the cup in my lap. Not on purpose. I missed my mouth. By about 4 inches. It was as if a piece of information was attempting to jump the synapses of my brain, but hadn't gone to the gym for awhile, and didn't have the strength to make the leap. It is hard to have a deep conversation with a girl when your table companions are laughing in your general direction and you have a cup of hot tea wetting your crotch.

Believe it or not; I think there is an analogy for spiritual maturity hidden in this story (I'll allow you to judge whether it be a good one or not). Like me in my three piece, thrift shop suit, we so often put on our best "spiritual" garb so that we can look the part for our brothers and sisters around us. Yet, though we hold God's word--the living water--in our hands, we rarely allow it to make a connection, drinking it down as we should. We all to easily get distracted from conversing with our creator and God, simply content with looking mature rather then being mature.

Yet, there is no need crying over spilt milk (or tea). The important thing is that we strive towards maturity. Like a bibbed child in a high chair, we can lift the living water to our mouths; we may spill, we may emphatically spit it out or miss the mark all together, but at least we are trying, digging in to the food of God's word. We are learning to find nourishment in him, learning to feed ourselves. We all have to go through one messy faced, spaghetti smeared, high chair photo (what parent hasn't taken one of those?) before we learn to eat like adults.

It is important that we examine our maturity. Where are we in our walk? Is it where we believe we are, or are we fooling ourselves? Are you drinking in the living water or are you just holding the cup. Drink up! Savor the beauty of of our Lord. Drink and be satisfied. Become a mature adult, and enjoy a nice, deep conversation.

...maybe put a napkin in your lap.

Bird, Bones, and Something New

Considering I haven't written anything on here in over five months, I feel I shall break silence. Often, I feel if I have nothing thoughtful or witty to say, then I have no point in writing. It simply wouldn't be worth reading. And I'll tell you flat out, this post won't be worth reading, but it sure will be worth listening to (I hope). After all, what better way to break the silence then with a few tunes. This is what I've been listening to lately.

First off, nothing super new being that his album came out in January; I have been listening to a whole lot of Andrew Bird lately. The guy is a veritable genius--I could swoon over his talent as a multi-instrumentalist, or his amazing voice, but what really gets me is his whistle. Yes. Whistle. You know, that crisp sound from puckered lips; that simple talent most of us learnt in elementry school, and save solely for those moments of thumb twiddling or remembering the Andy Griffith show theme song. Not Andrew. His whistling is done on stage in front of thousands of adoring fans. Yeah, he just learned how to whistle a whole lot better then the rest of us. You will just have to check him out for yourselves if you have not yet had the pleasure.

Secondly, Brand New is coming out with a new album Daisy on Sept. 22. I fell in love with these guys a couple of years ago with their album The Devil and God are Raging inside of Me. Knowing that Lead singer, Jesse Lacey grew up in the church, it is a fascinating listen. One of my favorite albums. You can hear searching and struggle in his lyrics, voice and tone. On the bands myspace page, you can currently hear several (if not all) of their new albums tracks. It didn't grab me the way Tbe Devil and God... did; I think it will have to grow on me a bit, but good none the less. I suggest listening to their last album before checking out Daisy if you are new to the band (oh, and just click on their highlighted name above to get to their myspace page).

Lastly, an act that I am extremely excited about is the pet project of one of my favorite actors, Ryan Gosling. The guy can sing. It is a very unique project being that both Ryan, and band mate Zach Shields didn't really play the instruments they used until approaching the project, and they committed to playing as few takes as possible before recording. Some would say sloppy and stupid, but I say it adds to the charm. Add to that a choir of children dressed in Halloween costumes singing on each track, and you have something incredibly unique and special. Not every one's cup of tea, but I love it. They are called Dead Man's Bones, and their debut releases October 6th.

One more treasure I've discovered is not a band but rather an online music store that is pretty great. The thing about lala that I love besides the fact that they are 100% legal, their prices are great, and that they have almost any band you can think of is that you can listen to nearly any album in its entirety one time through before deciding to buy it. I apologize to my Canadian friends; rumor has it that you cannot access this gift from lala in the great white north. I comfort you with the fact that you have CBC Radio 2 and 3, which, really, is a pretty amazing gift to a music lover's heart in its own right.

There is a high correlation between this joke and my laughter

Where The Sentimental Childhood Memories Are

Here is a movie I am incredibly excited for! Maurice Sendak's classic children's story Where the Wild things Are is coming to the big screen, under the direction of Spike Jonze. 

Its like cozying on the coach with my sisters in our PJs eating dry cereal or vigorously peeling an orange before bedtime, listening to Dad read a bed time story all over again.   *and contented sigh*

Arcade Fire, giant puppet monsters, classic children's story....

This trailer makes me giddy.