This is the glory of my 21st century life in one afternoon:

• Set up my E*Trade online portfolio. I am now a shareholder.
• Set up my 401(k)
• Wikipedia’d 401(k)
• Got massive headache.
• Renewed library items online.
• Diablo 3. If I stop returning your calls later this year, you’ll know where to find me.

This is why I love technology.

Having full realization that my posting of late has been somewhat long-winded, here is a list.

• “Trying to find the ground beneath your feet.” Pastor Sarah’s description of my life right now.
• Jesus is the ground beneath my feet.
• Wow. Wednesday nights at ORCC are alive. Young, old, single, married, happy, sad, dopey…all of us converging with each other to converge with God.
• Time in the presence of God? Transformational.
• Reuben at CB and Pott’s? Not so good. Glad Dustin enjoyed it.
• 2 more days? Tough. Here comes the weekend.
• The future? Getting brighter.
• The past? Gone, and good riddance to much of it.
• The present? Where I’m called to. Where I belong. The people I love. The best friends, the biggest smiles.
• I like being 21. I feel grown up. I feel young. It’s perfect.
• Lost. Addicted. As in the TV show. As in bad.
• Goodnight.

So, from my perspective this hasn’t been the “greatest” week. Even with $2 Rock Stars (which I suspect may be slowly sterilizing me.) Have you ever experienced God telling you not to do something you really, really want to? And I’m not talking “don’t look at that website,” or “don’t steal that purse,” or “don’t eat that cookie.”

I’m talking “Don’t go to El Salvador.”

Pardon? Excuse me? Perdonarme?

It’s a missions trip! Surely you must want me to go on this trip, right?

Nope. Sorry kiddo. I need you to sit this one out.

Well, frick. That kind of…sucks. Stinks. Sticks in my craw.

You see, I’ve been wanting to go back to El Salvador ever since my first missions trip there in 2005. To see the people, breathe the air, taste the Papoosas and native hot sauce, get the diarrhea and sweat like you wouldn’t even believe. But it’s not going to happen.

Now, I admit that for a while now I’ve felt like my body and mind were going to El Salvador, but my heart wasn’t. I’ve been praying. And fasting. And listening. And working on going to El Salvador. And then God spoke.

And He said “No.”

Now, a year ago, yours truly would’ve gone anyways. I would’ve broken it down to symantics and said something to the effect of “well, unless God is two-faced, He must still want me to go here and I’ve just got ‘jitters.’”

But God isn’t two-faced. Nor jittery. He’s really, really smart.

See, in a lot of ways I was going to El Salvador for me. Not for God. Not for the Salvadorians. I could tell you stories about that place that would make you tear up in seconds. Heck, I can make myself cry just thinking about it.

But here I am. Not going.

You see, at times like these, I’m sure we’ve all had a serious “What the crap?” moment with God. When my will becomes juxtaposed to His will, things get unpleasant.

Especially because He always wins.

But by now you may be thinking that I’m pretty mad at God, or that I see God in a negative light, the figurative string-puller, the anthill-stomper, the plan-ruiner. But He is not these things.

The fact is, He’s got way too much for me to do here. There’s church to be lead. There’s songs to be written. Tonight is Wednesday night. My gig.

So where goes my heart?

This may shock you, but as a Worship leader, I’m a big fan of the Psalmist. Did you know that a lot of the Psalms were written by King David before He was king? He wrote them in caves, where his best friend’s dad was searching high and low for to spear him. David’s life sucked at this point.

Now comes my favorite part.

When you read through the Psalms, there are countless instances when David speaks to his soul. He says things like, “Why are you downcast, oh my soul?” Now, we tend to think he’s just being poetic here. Or old-school emo. But look at all the times he says this: “Praise the Lord, oh my soul.”

Do you think David wanted to be in a cave? No. He wanted to be a king! But God had him sit for a while. In a cave. Hiding for his life. And what does David do?

He stares his soul in the face. I imagine at this point it was fairly bruised, broken, sad, downtrodden, angry, tormented, confused and lonely.

He stares his soul in the face and says “Praise the Lord, oh my [bruised, broken, sad, downtrodden, angry, tormented, confused and lonely] soul. Praise the Lord.”

Folks, tonight is Wednesday night. Now, I’m bummed about El Salvador. I’m upset that my job ends on Friday and I don’t have another one lined up. Yet.

But I’m going to stare my soul in the face. And I’m gonna tell it to praise the Lord.

And I’m gonna do it like it’s never been done.

Because God will be there in all His glory. And I intend to meet Him there.

See you tonight, soul.

Today at work I took a 10-minute break. I take several of these each day. I understand them to be an important part of office life. I’m told they help stave off eye strain, carpal tunnel, sociopathic behavior and other such unpleasantries. On this particular break, I went downstairs to the place where our vending machines reside.  This is a pretty ordinary set of vending machines; however, in between Snack Time and the standard issue Coke machine is a very special vending machine. This is the latest in vending technology. Rows of bottles with the picture window out front, and no corkscrews here; the tenants here have a deluxe elevator that rises up, scoops them out of their hidey-holes, and brings them to me. Now, astounding contraption as it may be, I’m drawn to this particular machine because of its particular inhabitants: bottled Coke, sweet tea, your usual suspects of any such establishment. But the top row?

Rock Star energy drinks.

Now, like many males my age, I of course went through and energy drink phase in middle school. Gotta try every new flavor as soon as it’s out, talk about and compare with my friends and then rave about how jacked up we all are on these stimulants. I’m happy to say that I’ve moved past such childish ways, but I will always love the taste of Rock Star. Just staring at that gold-and-black can makes my mouth water. The catch?
Rock Stars cost 3 freakin’ bucks. Each.

Until today. You see, the top row of this machine, row A, is all Rock Stars until you get to station A6, which is where the Vitamin Water starts. And lets face it:

Vitamin Water is lame. That’s why it only costs 2 dollars.

But on this particular day, whomever was responsible for stocking row A, station 6, mistakenly stocked Rock Star instead of Vitamin Water.

You heard me right. Someone’s error equals out to $2 Rock Stars.

At this point, I began to imagine what Rob Bell would do. I don’t have anything against Rob Bell, but I’m admittedly not a huge fan of “Velvet Elvis.” I like some of the NOOMA videos he did, however. So now in my mind I see this mild ethical dilemma becoming a great story about some new, wild revelation I had in front of this machine. I see myself walking through some old ’50s diner talking about how many orphans my Rock Star money could care for over how much time. I imagine a hip video of me telling you this story, a sweet underwater trance beat behind me, random images of artsy, broken down Coke machines from the 1960s helping you see what I’m saying. I figure that somewhere in all of this is a cool, square-framed message about materialism or integrity. But then I stop myself for a moment. I look at what’s in front of me. The oppurtunity of a lifetime.

And then I put $2 in the machine.

And then I press A.

6.

Elevator goes up. Elevator comes down.

And I drink me a two-dollar Rock Star. And it may not be the sweetest, most spectacular Rock Star I’ve ever tasted.

But it was 2 freaking dollars. Who cares?

God has really changed my perspective on ministry this year. I realized that it is very easy to fall into a “career” mindset of ministry. We as Christians like to rail against the corporate ladder mindset, but I think we fall deep into it ourselves quite often. You go to school or ministry training somewhere, and you start climbing. Children’s Pastor, Youth Pastor, then Worship and one day Senior Pastor: big leagues. VP. CEO, CFO. Not that changing your role in ministry is somehow bad, that is far from my point. My point is this: I was living outside of my calling because I was waiting for ministry to “start;” of course, I thought that “real” ministry started when you were being paid by a church to do it.

But if that’s the case, then wouldn’t my “ministry” be a perpetual stepping stone to somewhere else? I mean, if I’m only ministering so I can score a job, then who am I really serving? If that’s my focus, then the people around me are just means to an end, a flesh-and-blood staircase leading to my empire.

And then came a Wednesday night church service at ORCC.

I did not want to be there. I wanted to be playing lead guitar in Catalyst. Guitar solos were my calling. And one day I’d finally play the perfect one and land myself a cushy church job. Instead, I lead worship for a hundred or so people. And I fell in love with them. Crossed arms raised. Locked jaws opened. Dormant voices sang. Loud. And I felt happier, more complete than I ever had. I was everything I’d ever wanted to be when I grew up.

I was a worship leader. I was ministering.

But no one was paying me. No one called me “P-Barge.” So “real” ministry must still be around the corner, right?

Silly rabbit.

I work a steady[ish] 8-5 job. Some nights I leave it to work 6-10 at another. But I have a secret life. A life where I talk to Jesus. Where I meditate on the words of God. Where I write songs for my church to worship through. And on wednesday nights, the band gathers up and we do what we do: lead the people of God into His presence to be transformed.

Healed.

Made whole. Made new.

Made right.

I’m a worship leader. I’m in the worship ministry.

That’s what I “do.” Frankly, I don’t care if I ever draw a steady paycheck from it. I’m living in my calling. I’m doing what God put me here on earth to do. To quote one of my besties, I’m “doing something that has eternal value.”

I am doing “real” ministry. Now, I do believe that I will one day be on staff somewhere, leading worship and a worship ministry full-time. But just the same, I can live my alter-ego life. Because having a steady job, providing, raising kids, being a good husband or father or brother or cousin or nephew or whatever you are? That’s ministry. That’s showing Jesus to people. That’s leading people down to the river.

Be content where you are, doing what you do. Because that’s ministry.

God, my life is sweet.

I. Hate. Getting mad. Being angry. Hating people.

Deep breath.

Today I got mad at someone. Really mad. I blew up at them. Shouted (electronically) at them. Felt hot under the collar and red in the face. Hated them in my heart. Imagined getting into a fight with them. Imagined letting them beat me up just to show everyone how much more Christ-like I am than they are.

Feel free to laugh at this point.

Anger sucks. A lot. Sucks bad. Real bad. Anger makes me feel disgusting inside. The deep-in-your-gut, dirty website, super bad word gross feeling. And you know why? Because anger doesn’t travel alone. Anger rolls with buddies. Friends like fear, doubt, worry, hate, impatience, malice. Do you notice a pattern?

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

That’s Galations 5:22 - 23. Kind of the exact opposites of the above listed emotions. When I read this verse and think about these fruits, I want them. I’m happy when they’re in my life. I’m happiest when I’m being loving, when I have joy and peace, when I’m patient with and kind towards my brothers and sisters, when I look for the goodness in people, when I’m full of faith; when I’m gentle and control myself. Call me selfish, but I really want to have the fruits of the Holy Spirit in my life. They make me happy. And more importantly, they bless the people around me. Through me, they edify my brothers and sisters. They are good and helpful for the body of Christ; my peeps.

Dear friend, I’m sorry for being so angry at you today. I trust you to have good intentions behind everything you do and say. It’s not my place to come down on you. I’m kind of a tool.

Dear God. I love your Spirit. I love the fruit of your Spirit in my life. Please fill me more and more with Your Holy Spirit. I’m sorry for being kind of a tool sometimes. Please forgive me for hating my bros.

Um…amen?

TodayI have a severe case of the monday morning droopies. (MMD) My body is letting me know how much it would rather be asleep than at work right now. But you know what? I’m going to drink some [awful] coffee, throw on my iPod and rock out until I’m awake. You know why? Because God gave this job to me, He’s given me tons and tons of favor here, at my other job, at church, and in my relationships as of late. He’s given me a ton to take care of. So I’m going to take names today and knock this out of the park. I will literally be swinging a baseball bat at my coworkers and hitting them over fences. Figuratively. Enjoy.

I feel I should say a few words about yesterday. The first ones that come to mind are “PWN,” “awesome,” and “scrumtralescent.” <BTW, spellcheck totally allowed the word “scrumtralescent.” Worship was incredible at last night’s service. It feels as though out of nowhere, Wednesday night’s at ORCC mean something new, are about something new. We have a vibe, a flavor, a culture developing. About this all, I am inexpressably excited. To further express this, I feel that a list is in order:

• Creating mix tapes = wonderful goodness.
• Phone time? Party time.
• If this post by my beloved JD doesn’t give you a bad case of the warm fuzzies, you are a cold dead robot. Maybe you don’t have enough RAM for this, but there is a little thing called “brotherly love.”
• Playing frisbee and practicing Kung-Fu. My true passions in life.
• Barefoot soccer. My feet hurt.
• Seriously. Pipe time. You want it so bad.

Enjoy.

• I am so, so sorry for the recent lack of posts. I am adjusting to my new 8 - 5 life. I will get better.
• Midnight Society re-tooled and blogrolled. You’re probably not invited. I’m sorry.
• Date tomorrow night. No, you did not misread.
• First paycheck from 2 jobs tomorrow. Hello new socks.
• Who else wants to give me money for El Salvador?
• Who else loves finishing practice at 7?
• Who wants to play my guitar?
• Hulk? Kung-Fu Panda? Prince Caspian again? How do I decide? When do I find the time?
• But seriously, can we slow-dance in my living room?
• My old band was awesome. I mean, just listen.
• Sean + Mama T. + “Everlasting God” = holy crap, Holy Spirit.
• Sorry Mama, I’ve linked you enough lately.

It is blazing hot in the room at the moment, but my goodness what a nice night. Tonight I took a bike ride up to the local Starbucks and it was absolutely glorious. I defy you to take a fixed-gear bike out at 8:45pm when the air is 75 degrees and not have the time of your life. Oh, wait. It can’t be done. I’m getting incredibly excited to lead worship tomorrow night, I still feel this stirring in my guts like God is getting ready to tear the roof off of ORCC Wednesday Nights. Not that it hasn’t been amazing before; it is just going somewhere feisty. Oh, and my roommate is totally listening to Alan Jackson in the shower. Drink it in.