Vol II: #27 Clint

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Memory is an interesting concept. Without it, we’d be lost- literally. Memory is how we learn and grow and remember everything good about our lives. Of course, memory also stores our suffering. (Our ability to move on from these painful recollections helps determine our path in life. Everyone has shitty memories. The immature hide from the lingering pain, while the mature move through it.) What I remember most about life are the moments of wonder- my first time in the Redwood forests or a fantastic meal- and people. Today, while I worshipped with my fellow students, I thought about a few men from the season I spent in Charlotte, men(and women) I loved, and the friendships long-ended.

Clint was a young, charismatic man with a great story of God’s love and deliverance. He was a former drug dealer and addict. The Lord met him in a lonely apartment, and the presence of God was so thick he had to crawl on the ground to get out of his bedroom…or so the story goes. Clint and I bonded over our independence from conventional church teachings. Neither of us was afraid to disagree with church leaders or smoke clove cigarettes. Before my second year of ministry school, we decided to be roommates. That fall, we moved into a large townhouse with three other young idiots, unaware of the trials to come.

Before the Christmas of 2002, a sewer pipe broke and flooded the entire basement of our apartment. It was an apt metaphor for the entire year. Every single man in that apartment was tested that year- in one way or another. Brandon- the budding youth minister- suffered a break due to his “involvement in a cult.” Tim was the cliche “fish out of water” as the only roommate from Hickville, Georgia- we didn’t understand him, and he didn’t understand us. He felt isolated and alone most of the year. Our drinking and “sinful” behavior didn’t help. Matt suffers one self-induced romantic failure after another. But, the worst was what happened to Clint and I. (Not to mention- the tragic death of our friend Steve in early November.)

In early 2003, in the midst of feeling like a complete loser, I dropped out of ministry school. I drank heavily and isolated myself from everyone who loved me. Brandon was too busy to notice, and Matt and Tim kept their distance. And Clint was kicked out of ministry school. Supposedly, he made out with a fellow student. She felt guilty and reported it to school leadership, who promptly dismissed Clint. What Clint experienced was typical of that ministry school, and he did not respond well. Despite all the bullshit Clint experienced, he was the one friend who wouldn’t go a day without checking in on me. He’d tell me I was loved and the had good things for me. He was my friend.

As the summer of 2003 arrived, everyone in the townhouse went in a different direction. I re-enrolled in ministry school to finish what I started. And Clint went down the rabbit hole. He never recovered from his dismissal and began to order painkillers from India online. By 2004, this man, who felt the presence of the Lord and was set free from addiction, was back to his old lifestyle. I remember the day he proclaimed he was no longer a Christian, evident by his barren bookshelves. The love of God had become a law to him too burdensome to carry. I get it. Life without the presence and love of the Father is horrible.

Over the following years, Clint became increasingly self-destructive and dishonest. He took advantage of people and was never far from a bottle of whiskey. He was a shadow of the man I met in 2001. The people in his life either served his selfish intentions or were expelled. All this because some ministers treated him like shit. (I don’t excuse the poor leadership or Clint’s terrible choices in the aftermath of his expulsion. Many people from that school experienced the same treatment, and most of us did not self-destruct.)

I think Clint knew the Lord but longed for affirmation and acceptance. This is a common problem among immature believers. And, without foundation in the Holy Spirit, the enemy uses suffering to drive a wedge between the Lord and us. That’s what happened to Clint. Eventually, Clint moved to Los Angeles, where he continued his pattern of self-sabotage. The last I heard from him, he tried to avoid jail time in Texas, claiming to be an addict. It’s true, but some jail time would probably do him good. I had to tell his parole officer to stop harassing me as I would get calls when Clint didn’t check-in.

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Today, with tears on my cheeks, I lifted my old friend to the Lord. I don’t know why I thought of him as the music began, but I did. That bastard still means something to me, and I know the Lord loves him. My Father doesn’t care about Clint’s rejection or resentment. He’s got His arms wide open, patiently waiting for his son to come home. The goodness of God is without end.

Lord, touch my friend Clint. Flood his heart and mind with your love and kindness. Show him the eternal wave of grace over his life and destroy all chains on his life.

- Amen.

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Abstract: 20 Years Ago

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Bin Laden won,

his prophecy fulfilled.

America is full of fear,

from coast to coast.

We fear immigrants and trans activists,

anti-vaxxers and gun owners.

The media stirs the pot,

two puppets of the same master,

his plan on display though often ignored.

But, this is not our fate,

just the midnight moment,

when all seems dark.

I believe in another prophecy,

utter by a madman,

and forgotten by the masses.

America will be full of faith,

from seas to shining sea,

regardless of Faith.

We will risk everything for love,

and for each other.

For what is freedom without love,

what is equality without freedom,

and what is a government that does not protect its people?

Yes, Bin Laden’s master won the battle,

but my Lord will win the war.

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Vol II: #26 A Miracle?

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Here are the facts: Four days ago, according to self-described experts, the weather forecast for Northern California was nothing unusual. Early September is normally hot and dry, though less so than August or July. The mornings are cooler as the days grow shorter, and the shadows grow long by midday. Three days ago the smoke from the surrounding fires blew back into Redding. And, two days ago a group of ministry schools students prayed for rain. Last night, we got rain- a healthy and steady downpour.

What didn’t happen: The demon fire known as the Dixie Fire continues to rage east of Redding. But, the predicted “dry” lighting fires did not manifest. Overall, the rain helped reduce the smoke and dampen the fires.

Here’s the fun part: As of today, the highest probability of rain in the Redding area over the next two weeks is 7%- again, very normal. But, we will continue to ask for a miracle. The fun is in the winning. I know what the world would say. I know my own critical thoughts, “The rain didn’t put out the fires.” Yeah? No shit. Ok, well then, we will pray for more rain.

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Abstract: Life Is Good

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Thin screens, regardless of clarity,

will never be humanity.

They cannot replace the love conveyed by presence.

I hope we never become so efficient in the way we live life,

that we stop living life,

and settle for pictures of places we could be,

sniffing the scent of a new landscape,

or the wonder of His Creation.

Go, struggle and dream,

explore and receive,

every ounce of what this life was meant to be.

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Vol II: #25 Day 1 & 2

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So…I spent more time in a church setting over the last two days than I have over the last 2.5 years, combined. My nervous ticks and inability to focus on the speaker are evident to anyone with a brain. Most of my conversations with school and student leaders are comically similar: How’s it going? Good, so far. One kind yet observant third-year student even asked, “Is this weird?” I didn’t contain my laugh. “No. It’s not weird.” The first time I walked into a charismatic church was weird. Flat-earthers are weird. The first few days are Bethel is anything but weird. (Even though, I know some form of bizarre is on the docket.)

I must be giving off a real anxious/I’m-really-uncomfortable vibe. They don’t know the effort it took for me to be in the room. How could they? As such, I take no offense at the concerned looks and hopeful smiles. The truth is I am uncomfortable, but…I don’t want to be anywhere else. This is my journey, and I packed for the trip. I didn’t expect easy street and youthful butterflies. And, I will not fake or force outward displays of behavior in contrast to how feel. Eventually, they will learn not to worry about me.

The first session began with an hour-long worship set. I must confess, I don’t know the words to most of the songs. It’s not my fault. Worship bands (are they bands? Labels? It’s hard to keep up) are a dime a dozen in 2021, and most of them are insanely prolific- producing multiple albums each year. Bethel’s worship playlists span the entire catalog of Christian worships songs dating back to the ‘90s. I like that. They aren’t too proud or afraid to play songs they didn’t write.

Toward the end of the worship set, the leader broke out into an old but familiar chorus of “Praise the Lord, Oh My Soul.” The Bethel version is more modern, but it’s a spin on one of my favorite songs, first sung by Kevin Prosch many years ago. The next song was “King of My Heart” which was written by an old friend. At that moment, it hit me. It was twenty years ago- to the week- I began ministry school in Charlotte. My heart stirred and wondered: what will this year hold?

I maintained open expectations toward my time at Bethel. We’ll see what the Lord has for me became my go-to answer when friends asked “what do you hope to get out of it?” It was an honest answer, but today it became more clear what I need out of this experience. I need good leadership, not perfect, not slack, good. In all my years of the church, zero leaders took me under their wing. When people talk about spiritual mothers and fathers, I feel like a bastard. CS Lewis and a handful of friends mean more to me than any church leader. I hope that changes. I hope my group leader or small group leader is willing to walk with me through this year.

It’s not a sin to expect Godly people to act Godly. Many Christian leaders demand submission and conformity. They beat their sheep and cry foul while their churches dwindle. What makes matters worse is the fearful excuse of “not touching God’s anointed.” Yes, it’s clearly better to let assholes be assholes. It’s better to let them hurt people- as if it’s the will of God to allow his servants to be dicks. Hard pass on that shit. We do not live in the Old Testament days. I plan on being a leader and I am not above rebuke or repentance. I want to be accountable to the people I lead. If and when I fuck up, I want them to tell me.

We are all one with the Holy Spirit. (My stance is not a license to talk smack about these poor leaders. They need grace too. But, the days of allowing tyrants to rule the church have got to stop.) Fortunately, after two days, Bethel's leadership seems to be accountable and willing to admit their mistakes (a noble trait I’ve seen before.) Moreover, they seem to understand their role in our (student) lives. It’s refreshing.

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Abstract: Learning To Use My Words

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At first, I didn’t know the power of my words,

until I crushed a friend or family member with them.

Then I learned to keep my pain to myself,

preferring to suffering in silence.

Later on, I was reminded my words can create boundaries and limits,

when people try to use and abuse me.

Now, I stand on the bridge to the high tower,

where my words are tactful and honoring,

for me and for them,

regardless of emotion or intent.

The best words, even those born of conflict,

still- in a manner only possible through Him- create life.

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Vol II: #24 Happy Labor Day

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One of the great strains of my life is the volume and acceptance of extremist views in popular culture. In less than a week I heard people I love take up shelter behind opposing views of capitalism, President Trump, and President Biden. They are all wrong. For the purpose of this Labor Day post, I’ll focus on the immature views of capitalism.

First of all, capitalism is the oldest form of economy. It is a tool, a mechanism. It is not noble or evil. Better said, capitalism is like a hammer- capable of creating value and destroying life. Evil people use capitalism to achieve evil goals, and good people use capitalism to bless others. I am tired of people who idolize or demonize it. We can only make progress when we are objective about the strengths and weaknesses of capitalism.

For starters, if you took Labor Day off and enjoyed a Monday without work, you indulged in the fruit of the Labor Movement. My “capitalism is perfect” friends obviously forgot this dark era of US history- when children as young as five worked long hours in factories and coal companies put down strikes by firing on their miners. In fact, most conservative Americans seem completely ignorant as to our economic history. They wrongly believe the government should back off and “let the market work.” Ironically, that’s exactly what the government did for one hundred years, from 1800-1900. Every ten years the country experienced a depression, similar to the Great Depression. EVERY. TEN. YEARS. Now, add to that polluted cities, crushing poverty, and hazardous work environments. Life was hell. And, if you weren’t a white man…good luck.

All of the sins listed above are not a criticism of capitalism, believe it or not. It’s a condemnation of greed and a disconnect from the heart of God. Capitalism rewards those who work hard, like Jeff Bezos. He’s an evil man. Period. I know most people love Amazon, but Amazon treats its workers horribly. They do all this while making billions in profits. It’s clear they value profit over people. That’s not the Lord.

The alternative doesn’t work either. My “capitalism sucks” friends are just as wrong. We wouldn’t have flight, the internet, or enough food to feed the planet without it. (Yes. As of today, the world is producing enough food to feed the planet. The problem is distribution, which is less of a problem now.) Capitalism created pathways for people like me to own and operate my website without learning code or buying a server. I have a platform to the world because someone believed in the desire of little people to be powerful. When communism collapsed in the early ’90s, the world was not flooded with great inventions or advances in surgery. But, the West flooded those countries with every excess possible.

Capitalism needs rules and guidance. Greedy, evil men use it to hurt people, usually in the name of commerce or freedom. Our laws must be directed to prevent leaders from destroying retirement accounts (Banks), the environment (BP, Exxon, etc.), or limiting free speech (Facebook.) Amazon shouldn’t be allowed to steal designs from its customers and reproduce them at a lower cost, thereby putting Americans out of work. (All Amazon Basic products are manufactured in China.) And, don’t get me started about the state of our shitty health care system.

Let me be clear, I’m not advocating for socialism or communism. I remember my history. Communism was a stunning failure, but we’ve got to stop measuring the quality of our American lives through the stock market or GDP. Go back to the start of this post. I stated my annoyance over uneducated views of capitalism, so I’ll end by writing this: Rules and laws are a good thing. We produce more food because we learned how to manipulate livestock and plants. No one throws seed in a random field and expects a good return. We prepare the land, carefully plant our seeds, then nurture them to maturity. This is how we provide the maximum benefit for everyone. We cannot hope to preserve capitalism by pretending it’s perfect. And yet, we shouldn’t let the extremist on the other side destroy the only economic system worth a damn.

Happy Labor Day everyone. Please take a moment to remember those who lost their lives under the tyranny of evil men, then give thanks for the luxuries and comfort we enjoy. Both are true.

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Vol II: #23 Dressing Old Wounds

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I was taught- by well-intentioned folks- to value my intellect and experience. As a result of these lessons, I never questioned my mental ability or lacked trust in my perceptions. These are, in fact, helpful lessons to learn. I must undo the trap I create when I cast my weight behind a singular thought or emotion. For example, I am not now a “piece of shit.” There were times in my life when this thought lived in my mind. Fortunately, most people who know me agree- I am awesome. (Though a few people would say, “Nik is a piece of shit,” with good reason.)

My current hurdle is my intellect because I can think myself into a hole with ease. Stress only adds fuel to this fire, and I am under some strain due to all the recent changes in my life. Most people are like this- when we feel threatened, we fight (or fly away.) I’m currently in a fighting mood- mentally arguing with friends, ex-business partners, and old girlfriends. It’s a sign I’m anxious and need to repent.

Repent? Yes, repent. Repentance is not a solemn process of self-condemnation or holy shame. It’s more simple and gracious than that. Repentance means to change thinking or perception. Usually, we apply this to sins, but all sin starts in the heart. All sin starts as a fallen thought, belief, or feeling. When the Lord came to Cain, He addressed Cain’s fallen attitude and thoughts. Right? He didn’t say, “don’t sin.” He asked, “why are you upset?” Sin and destruction always start in our minds, usually when we feel threatened, abused, or unappreciated. I prefer to address my fallen thoughts and emotions before they descend into shitty actions.

This is a moment for me to be honest, to express my concerns with going back to ministry school. From this perch, the appropriate question is: why do I feel threatened? It’s a question I don’t want to answer because it comes from a 21-year-old man/boy who was let down by people he admired. I expect to be treated poorly by leadership in the church- is there any other kind? Yes, there is. All leadership is imperfect regardless of the arena.

This is my moment to mature, to accept the annoying imperfections of the school and its leadership. Once I clear that hurdle, it’s smooth sailing, right? *wink* Of course, no. But, I’m ready to move beyond my hurt, even if Christian leadership is stuck in the 1800s. #jesuswouldgetthevaccine

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Abstract: Stress of the Unknown

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Why do I go to war with the criticism of others?

Because I do not wish to live life in conflict with my battered ego.

Humanity is imperfect and cruel,

not by design or intent,

but mainly through ignorance and fear.

We are, after all, a superstitious species,

afraid of the dark and the future,

forever boxed-in by the unknown,

sacrificing greatness and love for comfort and stability.

I too fear the murky beyond,

the dim glass, and what I know only in part.

And, I am stuck between the past I cannot entertain,

and the forward motions- begging me onward,

into the chaos of what’s to come.

There’s no place for shadow arguments in the space on the other side my vision,

I must leave all the hurts and failures behind.

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Abstract: Life In The Tongue

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“Am I the asshole?”

Is a reoccurring question,

after a moment of honesty with another.

A previous version of me,

was nice and agreeable,

and dishonest.

I wasn’t a liar,

but I kept my truths to myself,

my deep hopes and childish dreams,

the ancient wounds and broken thoughts.

They would bubble up at times of despair and loneliness,

when I needed emergency surgery on my life and emotions.

But, I’m trying to live more honestly, intentionally,

with less trips to the ER.

I want to be healthy, and isn’t honesty good for us?

The cliche “best policy?”

As with anything new, I am a novice,

a child learning to use my honest legs.

I’m bound to rap my head on floor a few times,

and run into glass walls I didn’t know where there.

But, walking is better than crawling,

and running is healthy for my heart.

Lord, teach me.

May I learn how to speak in a honest tongue,

and always give life with my words.

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Vol II: #22 Day One, Done

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I pulled into the Civic Center parking lot just after nine AM- intentionally late. I knew most students would arrive early while being late would offer some cover. As I climbed out of my car, I noticed a long queue of excited students still waiting to go inside for registration. I took a few steps toward the back of the line then decided to go for coffee. The idea of idly chatting with the person in front of me was not appealing, and another cup of coffee was.

After I paid for my cup, I tucked into the back corner of the shop, texted a few friends, and checked Twitter- anything to delay the purpose of the day. Eventually, I ended up back where I started, back at the Civic, waiting to go inside.

Once inside, I encountered a series of smiling and overly polite people. Each one thanked me for being there, which felt over the top. The one bright spot was when I made the photographer laugh. She looked tired and disconnected when I sat on the stool for my photo. Upon her request to “smile,” I gave her the goofiest grin possible- toothy and wide. She thanked me before I moved on.

After the photo, I followed the arrows down the stairs to the floor of the Civic, where another group of cheery faces greeted me. This is where I faced my biggest challenge- meeting new people in an atmosphere of hype. A few meaningful handshakes later, I left. Day one, done.

I have no idea what the next eight months hold at ministry school, but I choose to take it one single day at a time.

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Abstract: The Calm And Focus of Football

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When I was a boy, just moments before every football game,

I’d slip into a panic.

My heart thumped,

And my mind crashed into a hoard of anxious thoughts.

Thankfully, when the whistle blew, and the first play was signaled-in from the sideline,

I always found my focus.

My breathing slowed,

and my thoughts melted into one single notion: the task at hand.

For the next sixty minutes, the game was all that existed in my world,

and all my energy went into it.

25 years year after I stopped playing the game I loved,

I’m still searching for the moments when nothing matters but the task at hand,

the game to replace the game.

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