When the credits roll

Following Jesus is amazing. Not just talking ABOUT him and what he said and did thousands of years ago, but actually following him in a real and personal way, day in day out.

It's such a privilege.

At the same time, following Jesus is extremely difficult though... isn't it?

Denying yourself...
Humbling yourself...
Over and over again...
So that OTHERS might be blessed... it's no small task.

I feel like you can break down the christian "conversion" experience into two broad categories or phases. The first one is the one we hear about all the time. The good stuff. The gospel message of Jesus Christ dying to make all things right. It's applicable to every human being who ever was and ever will be. The cross resonates with all of humanity because their is an internal sense in all of us that we are broken. That brokenness is undeniable across the entire world and all throughout history. It might not be the exact feeling or process of restoration with every person who has responded to this gospel, but universally it carries the same effect and tone.

I was lost and now I'm found.

This is the stuff we like. It really is good news! It draws humanity in, and when it's understood, it almost seems too good to be true. When we realize the consequences for our decisions and our sins, when we actually feel the weight of it and realize that something can be done beyond us to change that... well, there really are no words to describe it.

We use the word GRACE, and it truly is amazing.

When we realize this grace, we're stuck with questions like...

"How could this actually be?I'm so undeserving!"
"How could anyone love me like this, let alone the creator of all things?"

We can feel perplexed, and although we don't understand it all, we are captivated and drawn in by the sheer madness of a kind of love that can actually make us whole.

The second phase I feel like is realized by many but partaken in by very few. This is the phase when you realize that the reconciliation you've experienced, the one that took your breath away and swept you off your feet, isn't intended for a solitary moment of awe and wonder. When we see that the price Jesus paid wasn't JUST TO GET US OUT OF THE DOGHOUSE. It's easy to treat that moment of Jesus on the cross as the POINT of everything.

Like we were created just so we could be forgiven.

We want to treat that moment like we want to savor that last scene in any cheesy romantic comedy we watch where the guy travels across the country, drops everything in his life and professes his love in front of a full airport terminal. The girl is faced with a choice, and we marvel and wait on the edge our seat as she decides on whether or not she accepts. The moment she does, he sweeps her off her feet, they lock lips and everyone sighs and reaches for the conveniently placed handkerchief to wipe away the tears of joy.

Love isn't really like this, though.

Well, at least for me anyways, it hasn't been.

You never get to see reality in these movies - the time when these same two characters that are in that moment caught in the middle of a fairytale are later arguing on where to go to dinner on their anniversary and it turns into a massive fight and they spend it alone. The time when the mortgage looms insurmountably and there isn't enough funds in the bank account to cover it. The time when the guy is sick of taking out the trash and the girl is tired of being overlooked by football.

Reality doesn't crescendo the way we'd like life to.

Maybe I'm bitter or jaded, but I've never made out with a girl in an airport terminal. I've never even come close to anything like that. I came close once to dropping everything in my life and driving 18 hours to profess my love to a girl. I was visiting my sister in Florida during thanksgiving and thought I had met the girl of my dreams. She was gorgeous, smart, said all the right things and I was smitten. I asked my sister if I could borrow her car to drive interstate so I could lay it all out on the line. I imagined showing up to this girls house, pulling up her driveway, getting out of the car and spewing out my feelings for her on her victorian style porch. I imagined her being breathless and having her welcome me in for left over turkey with her family. I'd seen scenes like this in countless movies, so I started telling myself that it's MY time. Time for MY dreams to come true. In the end though, I didn't go. I held back and played it cool. I decided against it and no gas station encounter in the rain was had. Nothing to write home about.

I'm still waiting for that "moment" I suppose.

The disappointment caused by these moments, or lack thereof, makes me wonder things like what if I wait for a while for it to "happen" to me and it never does? What if I fantasize about it for so long that I miss what's happening right in front of me? I start to wonder if I'll be able to survive life without the dream of being wrapped up in something so grand like that.

Like what I see in the movies.

I'm starting to see my relationship with Jesus in a really similar way. This second phase I mentioned is not really like the first phase at all. I desperately want it to be though. I want to have Jesus sweep me off my feet and to feel like everything will be ok again. I want to feel like I did when I was 13 and opened my heart to him for the first time. When I realized that God was the father I SOOOO desperately had been craving my whole life. I want that moment to be played over and over again, to just keep hitting rewind on the remote control of my life.

I like that moment. I long for that moment. Not just a memory, but as something that I still want more of... because that moment is a good one. It was real then. It meant something then and somehow now it feels like a fantasy, all in the same breath. I want that moment much more than the moment I'm having right now. The moment I'm in right now doesn't feel anything like that moment, or the many other one's I've had where I was in awe of the grace of God. This moment right now feels...

Well it feels boring to be honest.

It feels boring and at the same time I feel overwhelmed by it all. A weird paradox of being overwhelmed by the nothingness of life. These moments are the ones that scare us away from continuing on in this "conversion" experience, this second phase. It's what we do after the airport terminal scene that scares us more than the lead up to that moment. What do we do when life is "normal" again?

Terrifying thought really.

You see Jesus does call us into this grand, sweeping, epic masterpiece. The first phase is that EPIC. And well, the second phase is too, but it doesn't always feel that way. It's because the second is less about the "moment" of finding Jesus and more about the journey of following him.

Jesus on the cross is what we want to see right before the end of the movie.That moment is something we long for because we all need it. We all need and long for that kind of love.

Following Jesus is different than falling in love with him though. Following him requires a lot more commitment. Jesus teaching us how to love our enemies and have unity amongst those in our church. Jesus telling us to turn the other cheek. Jesus telling us to sell everything we own. Jesus telling us to be generous until it hurts. Jesus asking us to deny ourselves daily and follow his example of complete sacrifice and surrender.

We treat these things like the monotonous bit we walk out of during the credits after the movie is over. It's sad though because the people making the film are the one's that deserve the credit for what we just enjoyed, but rarely do they get the acknowledgment they deserve.

The key grips, the best boy grips, the dolly grips, the caterers, the prop directors, the sound engineers... you know, the one's who actually make the magic happen.

Without them, there is no story. And without doing the things Jesus calls us to in following him, there is no REAL story. Not according to Jesus anyways. Hitting the rewind button on him on the cross over and over just isn't what he had in mind.

I've been observing a lot of heartache and distress in many of the marriages around me. I'm sure that these current marriages aren't any different than one's I was around when I was younger. I guess I am just much more aware of the "realness" involved in cleaving to another human being for the rest of your life.

At 27 years old, its staring to feel like I am becoming a endangered species amongst my closest friends that I grew up with. I am on the "never married" list, and there doesn't seem to be many others there with me. The funny thing though is that I don't actually long for it like I used to. I don't wake up feeling like I'm missing out on the most important thing in the universe by not being married right now. Don't get me wrong, a LARGE part of me deep downs wants to wake up tomorrow and have another warm body laying next to me, but the last 2 years have opened my eyes hugely to the calamity that is marriage.

Many divorces, much more than I'd like to cope with, have gone down with some of my closest friends in the world. Many other marriages seem to be hanging on by a thread. All my married friends and family tell me, in great detail, how difficult it really is to walk this thing out.

They also tell me how worth it is...well some of them do anyways. Some of them don't even have to tell me in words how worth it it is - the beautiful children running around laughing and singing make it painfully clear.

It's super obvious to me now that the pain in marriage can produce some of the most beautiful things imaginable.
It's also super obvious to me that the pain in marriage can also be unbearable.

The thing i'm trying to convince myself of more than anything else is that following Jesus is worth it. Not just worth it when I feel like it, though. Telling him I love him when he's removed the boulder crushing the life out of me isn't really all that difficult. Telling him I love him when he asks me to forgive that person who consistently hurts me is another story.

I don't want to fall in love with Jesus in the airport terminal and not still be in love with him 20 years later when I need to take the trash to the end of the driveway at midnight.

I want him to know that once everyone else has left the theater and there is no one else around that I'll be there to clean up all the popcorn on the floor and scrape the used bubble gum from under the seats.

I want to treat the MOMENT of HIM accepting ME the way it deserves to be treated. Treat it like it demands a life long covenant of being faithful to him no matter what happens.

I want to let that commitment produce beautiful things in my life that would not be possible on my own.
I want him to know that I'm in for the long haul not just because it's the "right" thing to do...

But just because I love him.

Here's the situation

*Written on August 5, 2011

I currently am, as I'm writing this, on a greyhound bus service from Los Angeles to Sacramento. The journey that got me to getting on this bus is nothing short of a modern day catastrophe,so I'll spare you the details. The contents of this bus ride will suffice for enough human drama anyhow. I'm 45 minutes from my destination, the destination being FAMILY and the most gorgeous girls I know alive on this planet.

Ellie, maile and chloe. ( I know other one's as well, one is Florida and unfortunately won't see her this trip)

My nieces who I never see have spurred me on through what is unarguably the most horrendous traveling experience I have ever had, which is a big statement considering my life to date. The past 5 days would best be described as a train-wreck similar to the one I recently saw in the delightful move "Super 8".

The past 12 hours have been a bit of a highlight though.

Today's journey began at 11 am in Santa Ana Orange County. I was nervous from the get go because anything that could of gone wrong literally had gone wrong up to that point. The bus that I was supposed to catch the night before at 10 PM decided it didn't want to show up, so I was a little skeptical to say the least that today was going to go swimmingly. The 11 am bus did show up but it was "FULL". They took 2 passengers on and left 30 FUMING angry Orange County passengers behind, I was number 29 I suppose. An hour later a bus arrives and takes us to the LA depot where I'm sure that the bus transfer to Sacramento I was meant to get on would of left, but much to my "surprise" (short lived) that bus was also running late and I didn't miss it.

I get on the bus and find out that there is power for laptops and free wi-fi! Cha ching. First real break all week. I have watched Colbert report on hulu, facebook chatted and skyped with friends on and off all day, pretty stinking cool actually.

About 3 hours into the journey we come to a slow death crawl and for the next 3 hours inch our way through the desert at 5 MPH. People on the bus start getting restless. I find myself sitting next to a latino young man, probably in his early twenties. In between playing dr. dre and t-pain on his phone (no, not through his head phones, straight up out of his speakers) I get to listen to him talk to his girlfriend and family about smoking weed and other unmentionable subject matter. We get to talking here and there and he tells me he lives in Oregon and has a medicinal marijuana card. He laughingly tells me how easy it was for him to get in his home state.

Liberal "freedom" working on all cylinders there.

The guy was a bit much really, but at the same time he was alright.

About 6 hours into this fiasco of a drive people start complaining that the driver is going too slow, not just murmuring though, straight up yelling from the back of the bus to the driver way up front so he could hear them. The driver at one point pulls over and says

"Does anyone want bottled water from under the bus?"

Everyone darts their hands up and says...

"Hell's yeah".

After driving 5 mph through the arid dry desert in the middle of the summer, it was more than understandable. He pops back on the bus a minute later and says...

"Sorry, false alarm. We ran out!"

Profanities in all sorts of accents are heaved his way. Latino, african american, straight up white dudes, even the nice quiet chinese couple sitting behind me chime in a little discontentment under their breaths. People would occasionally throughout the trip walk up to the front of the bus and express their anguish to the back of his head and he eventually got on the loud speaker and said...

"If one more person disturbs me while I'm driving... I'm gonna pull this bus over." Hilarious!

7 hours in and we finally stop for a food break. This particular stop was meant to be 3 hours into the ride, so everyone stampedes off. The town is called Coalinga and the smell of cow manure permeates your nostrils from the moment you step off the bus. I got some taco bell, the other passengers acquire their meals at the variety of other classy establishments you can find at a Coalinga rest area. I'm pretty sure that food wasn't the only goods procured during the pit stop. I'll let your imagination wander on that one.

Everyone hobbles back on for what will be my last leg, but for some just their halfwas as they go on to Portland, Seattle and even Vancouver...

UNIMAGINABLE torture for those ones.

I noticed a delightful older black man earlier in the trip and brushed by him at the food stop. Something stuck out to me about him from the moment I stepped on that bus. In the middle of the insanity he seemed to be able to just sit back and laugh at it all... nothing seemed to affect him too greatly. I was getting close to being able to finally do that and as I got back on the bus I looked at where he was sitting and I saw a little black book sitting on his seat. It was open and I could see where he was reading in this little black book.

One of the epistles written to the early church, probably challenging the reader to recognize what's important in this life, to not sweat the small stuff and to endure much harder circumstances than the ones I had just been through.

Its funny how things pile up and how quickly, when we take a deep breath and look around us, those things that are piled up kinda just topple over and become so... trivial and elementary.

Patience, family, gratitude, stability, joy.

These are all things that God is desperately wanting me to appreciate more and prioritize above other trivial things such as...
money, comfort, food, girlfriend/wife, entertainment, stimulation.

Really my life is like this bus ride in more ways than I'd like to admit to.

Slow, tiring, insane, humorous, exhausting, expensive.

But the thing is that this bus is taking me somewhere I know is good, it's taking me to people that I'd die for in a heartbeat. The destination is so worth the journey. Every inch I get closer to these people I love melts away the moments previous. Despising the journey is just so not worth it.

God have mercy on me.