dance.

I don't care to dance.

Maybe it's because the majority of dancing that takes place is to music that I couldn't care less about. Maybe it's because I don't really know how. Maybe I just don't want to, I don't really know... but I do know one thing...

There is some music that moves me to dance.

There have been times I have been accused of being boring for my unwillingness to 'break it down' on command, as it were (I think I might be using as many cheesy alternate phrases for dancing as I can in this blog). However, I have come to a conclusion that there is good reason I typically do not care to 'shake it'... as it were.

Simply put... there are only so many songs that truly move me to dance.

As other people enjoy 'grooving' (as it were... and yeah, I'm done) to Soulja Boy, Sir Mix A Lot, Lil' Jon, Nelly, or... whoever graced society with expression of musical genius that is "The Electric Slide."

Or, actually, even my friends that go swing dancing on Friday nights... I just cannot bring myself to be moved by those songs. I honestly wish I could, but I just can't.

On the other hand, get me on a good day and put in something like Mates of State, maybe some Dr. Dog, and I will have reason to dance. 

There is something about some songs that moves me to dance.

Allow me to introduce a vocabulary term: Perichoresis (I don't mean to make myself seem intelligent by doing so, I only learned this term a few days ago myself).

Early church fathers used this term to describe a certain relationship within the triune God. Actually, if you break down the word into its original Greek parts, you have "peri" (around) "choresis" (dance). Therefore, this word, perichoresis, describes the way that the Trinity moves and dances within itself.

Just picture that... The Father, Son, and Spirit... gliding around one another in perfect rhythm, moving with each other as one body, yet still remaining three distinct entities. I think that is beautiful to imagine.

But there is something even more beautiful about it. The perichoresis of the triune God is no closed affair. As a matter-of-fact, it is far from it.

Father, Son, and Spirit have invited us into the dance by creating us in their image.

By calling us to live in their image, we have all been called to live as expressions of the dance... living in community, living with a passion for the created, living in Love, just like the our triune God.

I don't like to dance... but there are some songs that move me to dance.

The song that the Trinity is dancing to is one that moves me to dance... Actually, I would venture to say that, heard clearly, that song is one that would move us all to dance... to join hands with the Father, the Son, the Spirit, and dance.

We have been called to participate in The Dance.

It's time to kill our inner-wallflower, step out onto the floor and join in the beautiful movement.

It's infectious.

The song we hear is irresistible.

It's is doing something to us.

It is calling us.

It is drawing us in.

It is moving us.

Do we really have to stand here and decide?

What are we afraid of?

Let's step away from the safety of the wall.

Let us dance.

Father, Son, Spirit.

Your dance is beautiful. I am so thankful to be a part of it Lord. When I lose step, when I trip over my feet, Lord, carry me until I find my rhythm again. Sometimes I don't feel confident, I don't think I can keep up with you, find me in my weakness, fill me with your strength.

Thank you Lord for singing a song that moves me to dance. Thank you for making your song Love, Compassion, Grace, and Mercy, Lord. That is the song I want to move my feet to dance. That is the song to which I want to attune my praise, to which I want to attune my life. Help me move with you God. Guide me, teach me, help me be who you've called me to be.

Amen.

bells.

"Ring them bells Sweet Martha, For the poor man's son,

Ring them bells so the world will know That God is one.

Oh the shepherd is asleep

Where the willows weep And the mountains are filled

With lost sheep.

Ring them bells for the blind and the deaf,

Ring them bells for all of us who are left,

Ring them bells for the chosen few

Who will judge the many when the game is through.

Ring them bells, for the time that flies,

For the child that cries When innocence dies."

-Bob Dylan "Ring Them Bells"

Ring them bells! Today is a celebration day!

I have officially concluded my junior year of college, and as much as I hate to say that, it is most certainly true. If you wonder why I hate to say it, allow me to refer to the imminently looming "real world" that is creeping ever nearer as the pages on the calendar wistfully float to the floor and the hands on the clock slip, steadily and purposefully round-and-round. Oh, how I am not ready for the "real world" (don't worry, I [probably] will be eventually!).

But back to the celebration! I like that part.

As of today, I have about four days before I'm back in a classroom, something I have never experienced before. How do you take an intensive Bible class in three weeks? We shall see.

After my Maymester experience it is time to start camp-hopping. That is... eleven week of church camp. That will be wonderful and draining. Prayers are more than welcome for my strength of spirit as I embark on that journey.

All told, I'm excited to see what this summer brings. There are sure to be amazing new opportunities and experiences that teach me how to live.

As for this blog, my class that it started for is now over, but I hope to keep updating every so often I think it's been good to get thoughts on "paper" as it were. I think God programmed me to understand myself through hearing myself talk or writing out my thoughts... So forgive me as I babble.

Let's go back to the quote at the beginning of my current babble. This is a lyric, written by Bob Dylan, covered in a song by Sufjan Stevens in honor of the movie "I'm Not There" a movie about Dylan. Despite never having heard Dylan's version, which I'm sure is a shame, he is a genius, the emotion in Stevens' version captures very purely the feeling of celebrating the simple moments in life when we know God is near.

The world needs to hear the bells: the bells that proclaim that God is here, that God is alive and well.

I think those bells sound a little something like Jesus, and they probably look a little like him too, as they walk, and talk, and carry on as people who love with grace and mercy the others around them.

May we ring like bells arcross hills and valleys, through the streets and through the meadows. Let the world hear your song, Father, ringing loudly and beautifully as we proclaim the Joy you have brought us by loving us so purely, so graciously.

Let us be your song.

Let our lives sing it loud.

Ring them bells.

Amen.

cool.

Cool is a drug.

I'm addicted.

You're addicted.

We're hooked.

Apple. Indie music. Pearl snaps. Barack Obama. LOST. Cardigans.  Wayfarers. Starbucks... better yet, independent coffee. Pea coats. Photo Booth. North Face. brb. Vintage. Sarcasm. Twitter. Plaid. Facial hair. Creativity. Long boarding. FML. Indie films. Scarves. lol. Colbert. Toms. Garageband. Gadgets, V-necks. YouTube. Stripes. Frisbee. Tattoos. Blublockers. Chacos. Going Green. Moleskine. Playing guitar. omg. Bedhead. The Office. Emergent. Chucks. iPhones. Concerts. Wes Anderson. Knit caps. Whole Foods. Youth. Art. Celebrity. Irony.

We sell our souls to these things... Why? Because they are Cool.

People like people who like these things.

So we seek out things that are well-liked by the common populous, yet not quite too well-liked. Because if it's too popular then clearly, it has lost its cool... we don't stand out in the crowd for being Top 40 cool.

That is... if we do want to stand out in a crowd. I'm not sure, we haven't decided yet.

These are the things we have sought out very carefully, arranged them neatly, so that they may define us. We drove our hybrid to Trader Joe's with a specific intention of selecting the most unique, interesting, funny, creative, artistic traits or favorite music, movies, television shows, blogs, and social justice causes from the shelves so that we may consume them, and, hopefully, become what we eat.

We put on Cool. We wear it. We jump through its hoops. We love Cool. 

We primp it, we preen it, we make sure it's well fed, so we are sure to keep searching for the latest and greatest in Cool's world. I loved that song before it was ever on that Apple commercial. It's kind of overplayed now. We parade Cool around as much as possible, every day is a new opportunity for the Westminster of Cool. I'm not sure if I can make it, I'm going to a show later. I'll text you. We build relationships on Cool, the solid rock, so that we may have inside jokes about the things that only you, me, and Cool know about. Did you not see my Tweet about that party? Everyone was there.

We love Cool.

Cool is a drug.

We are hooked on Cool.

Thank God for Cool... 

...... 

Does it work that way? 

Does that seem right?

Did God beget Cool?

Do we believe that the God who created us naked and unashamed was happy when we realized we were exposed? Was He happy when we started covering ourselves so the watchful eyes of man wouldn't judge us so harshly? Was He happy the day we started seeking to impress each other instead of Him? Did he cry when we first began to gather our self-assurance from men, and not Him?

We we lost that intimate, face-to-face, all consuming relationship with God because of our first sin... Cool was born.

Okay, sure, so Cool has a place in my heart, maybe a place with a flat-screen TV and an extensive Blu-ray collection, but it could never take... it could never take the place of... 

of God?

... but I'm kidding myself... I know it could.

I know it has.

The fact is, Jesus' episode of Cribs would be pathetic.

At best, a manger... at worst, twelve guys and maybe a borrowed donkey.

No in-home theater, no stainless steel appliances, no pool, no Escalades on DUB's, nothing... 

pathetic.

Jesus was not Cool.

Jesus was what may arguably be the opposite of Cool.

Jesus was... Alive.

And I'm not just talking in the sense that we believe that Jesus is alive. 

Indeed he is alive, but, in this sense, I am talking about the physical, walking-around-talking Jesus as he appeared on earth.

Jesus was the epitome of what it means to Live. He came to show us what it means to be Alive... not what it means to be Cool. 

In fact, he was so Alive that despite the fact that he lacked any physical features to draw people to him, even though he lacked all the glitz and glamour of the time... the finest designer jeans, the latest $80 Urban Outfitters shirt, the iPhone, the new Fleet Foxes album... he was so Alive that people were drawn to him by the thousands. Not just collective thousands over the span of his three-year ministry... thousands at time. We know the stories. We know how they longed just to see him, just to touch his cloak... his dusty, dirty, tattered cloak.

Yet he had nothing of the world to offer them. No house, no money, no food, no gifts, no Cool... just Love, just Grace, just Mercy... 

...Just... 

...Just Life...

That is what it means to be Alive.

Jesus was the definition of Life in full, Life as it is intended to be lived.

Jesus was Alive. 

So, may we let go of the the treasures of this earth... the constant weight and burden of Cool. May we realize that Cool is a drug, and it has us by our hands and feet. We are dancing clumsily as Cool pulls our strings, our puppet master we hardly realize we are living to serve. May we yearn to have these strings broken. 

The weight of my arms will be heavy on my own, Lord, don't cut them yet! But God I want to know what it's like to dance on my own now, cut the strings, free me from my constant tangle. My arms may be heavy, but in You they will be lifted. I'll be light again. I will float on a breeze. I will know what it means to dance, not like it used to be, not like it was when man told me to move. But now. Now Lord I will be inspired to dance. There won't even be a choice to make. I will move because your Beauty makes me move. Because your Grace makes me move. Because your Love makes my heart beat in time with the songs the angels are singing, Father. It's a beautiful song, like a siren's song to my soul, I am drawn to its majesty. It would be so good to dance. It would be so good to Live. 

Cut the strings, Lord. I'm ready to dance, I'm ready for Life. Real. Life.

Amen.

risen.

Here are a few reflections as Easter passes...

- My Easter was: Woodmont Hills in the morning (the first time I've gone to a Sunday morning church service this year.), brenner for lunch with a dear friend, a few great games of frisbee in the afternoon, Ethos with my parents joining me at 6, a great meal with my parents after church, and sharing time with great friends late tonight... My Easter was: wonderful.

- I needed the reminding today, and thank God I found it.  It takes too much shaking and too many smacks in the face to awaken me from my slumber sometimes, and it was so good to be alive again.

- It was flattering this morning to hear Dean quote excerpts from my blog at an Easter Sunday, which he did for three services to a couple thousand people. This is not to mention that through him that message was able to reach a group of people who I am glad to have heard it (which is not meant to be an indictment, but rather a challenge to myself and the others who partook in that message this morning). I certainly don't mention this out of pride, but out of sincere flattery that my thoughts would be considered worthy of that setting. The message was relevant and authentic. I am thankful to be a part of the continuing story.

- I was also struck with a simple phrase while at Woodmont. Dean started his teaching by saying "Christ is risen" and the congregation was then directed to respond "Christ is risen indeed."  This call and response lead me to the realization of how beautiful it would be to share that as a greeting among my brothers and sisters in Christ. So, tonight I mentioned this to a few dear friends that I would love to start sharing that experience with one another. Instead of exchanging something such as "Hey, how ya doin?"..."I'm good"..."What's up?"..."Not much"... we can actually share the joy of the resurrection in a simple way that will remind us of what we are living for. I hope this goes well and never becomes a rote exchange.

- I love playing frisbee. I played a lot this weekend, and my legs and feet know it. I think that time was well spent with God and man.

- The service at Ethos tonight was precisely what my soul was searching for.  The worship was heartfelt and well thought out, and the message was simple and True.  God was present as always, but it was clear there was a room full of people who had invited Him into their hearts and minds... the Church was alive. I sang with all my heart, I choked back the tears, and I remembered. I am continuously blessed to be a part of my family at Ethos; I thank God for leading me there.

- Simple truth is universal. It can touch any heart and transform any life. Our Loving Father is sovereign.

Hallelujah! Christ is risen! He has conquered Death, it has lost its sting. Whom shall we fear? I will not live in my fear any longer. Our Lord is a Strong and Mighty Fortress, who could stand against Him? He makes us strong. He leads us through the fire. He leads us through the waves. He lifts us up on wings like eagles. He is our Protector. He is our Provider. He is our Love. He is our Peace. He is our Grace. He is our Father. He is our Everything, and He is RISEN!

praise.

I finally started reading the book Praise Habit by David Crowder as my outside reading assignment for spiritual formation.

For those of you who know me well, you know I have a little bit of heterosexual man-crush on David Crowder, so this reading choice should come as no surprise. However, I've heard great things about this book, and being a DC*B fan has been to my benefit just because I can almost hear him saying the things he writes... Is that creepy? It is what it is.

But just through the two introductory sections of the book and already I have encountered some beautiful wisdom.

After giving a detailed outline of his morning routine, seemingly devoid of "spirituality," Crowder writes this:

"Where were the God moments? Where was the Living Praise? Did praise happen? Could praise happen? What if it did? Were opportunities missed? Was praise just beneath the surface? Could it be a flood? Maybe it's just dammed? Maybe if the dam burst we would drown in it. Do we dare pick up a sledgehammer and start swinging? It could be difficult. It could wear at you. This could be hard labor. I don't know if I have the back for it. And I think I like my water in smaller doses. I like the sound of the drip. But there is cracking in my lips and they bleed when I smile. My hands are dry to the touch. So dry I can't feel you anymore. Pick it up? It is needed? It is what is necessary? I want to drown. I want a different air than what I've been breathing. I will swing. I will swing with all my might. I will swing until there is the sound of breaking. I will swing. Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over . . . " 

There is such movement in this paragraph, swells of emotion, changes in pace... you can almost hear the music that accompanies it.

This is not to mention the recurrent thought as I read this passage that I wished I had written it first. Not out of a selfish desire to have beaten him to it, but rather, because these emotions have been written on my heart, and I haven't been able to express them this colorfully. You can tell Crowder is a gifted songwriter.

So let us pick up the sledgehammer and start swinging away so that we may quench our insatiable thirst for praise. We owe ourselves to God, we owe him our praise, we owe him our lives. So let us swing.

"So here's what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You'll be changed from the inside out." - Romans 12:1-2 (The Message)

easter.

As Easter is quickly approaching, I am convicted.

This is an interesting time of year, there are bunny rabbits and eggs, but there are also more people thinking about Jesus Christ this time of year then in any other box on our calendars.

So we scurry to get the sinners into the church buildings and give a good show, because today, boys and girls, we have an audience.

And this audience allows the congregation to put tremendous pressure on the preacher for the special day... Time to dance... I don't intend to nap on this day, sir... oh no, not on Easter. Because you see, I've worn my daisy tie and seersucker suit, clearly, it's show time.

Time to sit back, relax, and let the Spirit move... Preach it. Amen.

The one Sunday of the year we have a packed meetinghouse of people who normally don't feel comfortable enough or even motivated to be a part of our congregations, and we are all sitting back in our daisy ties and seersucker suits (or for the sake of gender-inclusivity: our pastel-colored dresses and new high heels) waiting to be wowed. 

What. are. we. doing?

Oh, and about that conviction I mentioned in the first sentence, turns out I'm guilty.

I think all members of the Church have been guilty of this a time or two. 

If you don't already know what I'm getting at... the problem is this... 

We, as the Church, are sitting back on the easiest day we are going to get to reach out to people who are uncomfortable with being a part of the church with our hands folded neatly in our laps.

But do we not realize that these new faces have put themselves in this uncomfortable situation for a reason? They are in the building because they desire some kind of relationship with God, but the other 51 weeks in the year, they probably aren't comfortable being in that pew... and with our attitude on Easter... who could blame them?

We've dressed to impress (which is another blog entirely), we've put on a false air of everything-is-always-fine-and-dandy, ask shallow questions to further our surface relationships with one another, laugh our business office fake laughs, nod politely to the people you have to step across to get to your regular pew, and duck your head if we accidentally make eye contact with a stranger.  Oh, and this is just the stuff that happens every Sunday... so this excludes the bonus attitudes that Easter brings. Like the consumeristic view that the service had better be extra special, etc.

So it's no wonder that when the week after Easter rolls around... they just aren't all that interested in coming back.

Preachers typically preach over the heads of the visitors, and the regulars don't do much to genuinely reach out to them... probably because we don't know how... most have never really tried that hard to do it anyway.

So, if you are reading this, and maybe someone is... for ministers, recognize this moment as one to include the people that otherwise don't feel at home with the people of God... There is a reason they don't usually come to church!  They aren't there because of your superior Easter Sunday marketing, they are there because Jesus is doing something. So open up your language, acknowledge the fact that there are visitors here, but don't say it as if it is a mark of shame. Invite them into conversation about what it is the church has been missing to be relevant in their lives. Admit your faults and be ready and willing to seek reconciliation for the past and current mistakes of the church, because it's about time we admit that we have made several! God has opened the door for these people to see the holiness of the people of God, to see how the Spirit is using the Church for amazing things... making a difference in the community, impacting lives. So is our church alive through the Spirit? Are we bringing beautiful and vibrant change to our communities?

So that's where I would argue that the congregation, not the preacher, bears the burden of stepping up to the plate on Easter Sunday.  This is the time of year when the people on the "outside" will come to us... the people who are disenfranchised by the machine that the church has become are walking through its doors, maybe for the only time this year, maybe for the only time in their lives. So what are we going to do?

Leave the cheesy small-talk and your penny-loafers at home... be authentic.

Engage with the people around you, meet someone you've never met... maybe they've been going to your church for years, maybe they've never been before... meet them. Be a friend. Express the love of God that He has shown you!

The church should look different on Easter Sunday... there should be a Joy and a thankfulness among the people that spills over the isles from pew to pew, heart to heart. 

Jesus is risen!

Death has been defeated!

Don't you think we can at least show the Love of Christ to a stranger?

Don't you think we could at least offer someone a glimpse into our authentic self?

Don't you think it would be nice if those attitudes started with Easter, but then overflowed into the other 51 weeks of the year?

Just take a moment to consider why it is that people don't feel at home in your church... try to relate to them... and offer them a genuine gesture of friendship without strings attached.

Share Love.

We should know a thing or two about Love.

After all, it is Easter.

Thank you our risen Lord for this opportunity to love!  

More importantly Lord, thank you for the Love you have shown us... You came, you suffered, you died, but Lord you rose again! You are Love! You are Love! Show me how to Love like you have loved me, and teach me to see all  the opportunities I have to do so. 

Lord, take my life, and make it yours. 

Amen.

heartbeat.

Yesterday was a beautiful day.

I spent the majority of it outside on a blanket with friends, throwing a frisbee, playing guitar, singing, and, most importantly, resting. It was all very collegiate... postcard material even.

Yesterday was a good day.

I'll say it again, harkening back to a blog I wrote quite some time ago... Sometimes it seems like the sunshine makes it a little easier to be a Christian. It makes it just a little easier to know that God is so happy to see me here. Just a little easier to know that He loves me more than I'll ever understand.

Just a little easier to slow the pace of my heartbeat to align with that of my Father's.

So, in this day yesterday, I had the conviction that it was to be a Sabbath.

I've never actively pursued Sabbath, as a matter of fact, I've never intentionally practiced a day of rest.

"Now hold on Jesse..." You might say, and for good reason... I have been known to sleep the day away a time or two, or just sit around and do as little as possible. This was especially true of my weekends in high school. No commitments, man, those were the days... but I'm starting to realize how many opportunities I've missed in those free days to commune with my Father.

I didn't want yesterday to be the same.

Scripture leaves no question about the importance of Sabbath for the people of God, and it could be argued that it is one of the least practiced methods of communing with God today. 

What I'm saying is, many people pray, read Scripture, partake in communion, or sing praise to God... but many of us typically neglect Sabbath, one of the longest standing, central practices of our ancient faith... 

Why?

God granted this sacrament as a time which we can dedicate to Him through our peacefulness.  This day allows us to dedicate our mind and our spirits to God, while recharging our soul in order to better dedicate it to His purposes. This day sets us apart from the world, indicates our holiness before our Father. 

So why do we deem ourselves too busy to take it on as a weekly communion with God?

I will say this, it was hard yesterday to avoid thoughts that I had things I needed to be doing, I actually even spent a couple hours practicing for Sanctuary because I'll be leading it for my first time this week, so I don't even know if I did all that great of a job at keeping my Sabbath, but the point is this... There were hours yesterday in which my mind was elsewhere...

I was even accused of seeming "deep in thought." I thought that was somewhat funny because that statement almost carries a negative connotation. I may have been deep in thought at certain times, but if I was, there was Joy, there was Peace. 

My heartbeat was meeting the pace of my Father's. 

I hope I find Sabbath again next week. I'm sure through the course of this week my heartbeat will race, pressures will rise, and stress will usurp the reign of Peace in my life. I will need a moment to swim to the surface, to gasp for air, to breathe again.

However, I would like to find that this practice of Sabbath, if taken regularly, will strengthen the hold of Peace over my life, through the weekdays and through the stresses of the day-to-day so that my heartbeat may keep in time with the rhythm of Grace, Peace, and Love.

Peace,

Thank you for your Sabbath, for the rest it brings, for the light it shines on my heart so that I may see its imperfections and feel your desire to have it transform to your will. Give me the strength and the courage to submit to that will, Father, so that I may come to Life through your Love for me. You have given me so much, I have so little to offer you, Father. Take my life, and make it yours.

Amen.