Change of Plans

I needed to hear from God. SO I did what any good Christian should do- I played into the cliché picture of pleasant solitude with a beautiful view and the warm sunshine. I packed my guitar and some good Christian music into my car and set off to find a good spot. My first attempt led me straight to the river…I mean literally. It was flooded and the road I was on ran right into the Mississippi River. Needless to say, I turned around and kept looking. I did a little exploring and ended up on a narrow road that followed the river. Now, this was the kind of place I was looking for…abandoned, quiet, peaceful…and impossible to get out of. Imagine this scene: a 1989 station wagon without a muffler arrives at a dead end…with no place to turn around. On one side of the road is a cliff whose bottom is covered with the flooded water, on the other side a wall of rock. Straight ahead? Well that was chained off between two cement columns. That was the situation I found myself in. To make matters worse, behind those chains and columns, my once desolate road had now housed some scary building with a no trespassing sign. Two other cars stood stopped in the road.( Only they were facing the proper direction to get out…how the managed this, I am not aware of, had I been aware of it, perhaps I could have managed the same feat) I have never learned how to parallel park. I barely passed maneuverability. Backing up is one of my least favorite things. But I did the only thing I could do; I proceeded to drive my car backwards down a narrow road for a good mile. I am sure the owners of those cars and the jogger I drove past got a good laugh at the station wagon weaving back and forth between cliff and wall all they way back down the road. SO I was on the hunt again, this time I left the flooded shoreline of the river and headed up to safer country. I went to a more public place and decided to sit on an overhang. I thought I had it…my beautiful scenery, my peaceful solitude…but then it occurred to me that by this time the warm sunshine was gone. It was rather cold. My once guitar calloused fingers were not so calloused anymore and playing the guitar hurt, not to mention it was out of tune. Then I looked over and saw a little pile of dog poop. This confused me. I climbed a fence to sit on this cliff overhang…how did the dog get up there? Did someone pick him up and put him there? And if so why? There was grass everywhere else…why would the dog pick the spot with the least amount of grass, on top of a cliff that he had to climb a fence to get to? These were the thoughts that ran through my head….

I got back into my car and drove back. I did not hear any audible voice from God, my decisions did not become any clearer, and my night did not fit the image that I had wanted to create. But at least for a few moments, I did not feel the weight of trying to organize my thoughts, for a little while; I enjoyed life and laughed at myself, for a little while I just talked to God. Maybe sometimes that’s all we need.

Beach Reach '10

How do you explain the helpless somber glances shared between Christians as they watch their peers destroy themselves? How do you explain the power of a worship service before going out to face sin in its finest form? How can you explain the comfort of knowing that you are exactly where you are supposed to be and the awe that comes with watching God work right in front of you? People have asked me a lot since I have been back how my spring break was. But I have found it increasingly difficult to truly explain to them why it was so amazing. I mean, how do explain the awe, the heartache, the wonder, the laughter, the joy, the discouragement, the unity, and the peace that is Beach Reach? God taught me so much. He led me past my selfishness and my refusal to focus on others. He worked in spite of my fatigue and my shortcomings. He showed me that in my weakness, He is so very strong. He showed me that He doesn’t need me, but praise God, He allows me to be a part of His plan!

Right now, my head is flooded with the images of people that I met on this trip. The conversations I had roll through my mind like a slide show. I think about the student in our van, who talked to us for a very long time about how he knew the truth but couldn’t bring himself to give up his lifestyle. I recall the two cops who grew up in a catholic church, but had never heard and were shocked at the truth of the gospel. I think about the guys from England who had been turned off to Christianity because of Christians, but who listened and genuinely sought truth. I think about the hard headed atheist. I think about the well educated agnostics… Then I think about the countless conversations with people who were to drunk to remember their name.

Don’t get me wrong, we had a lot of laughter. I mean, you can’t dance with “Crum Diggity” and not smile. We heard a lot of “songs,” saw people stumble over pick- up lines, experienced the ego boost that comes with slurred compliments, and got to hear one of our teacher’s names chanted by a van full of intoxicated college students. We were the Jesus People, a title that we proudly wore. We wore it in fun, light-hearted conversation. We wore it through serious conversation and debate. We wore it, while supporting a drunk person all the way back to their hotel. We wore it as we loved. That’s what Jesus did, so that’s what the “Jesus People” did their best to do.

The beauty of this trip is in the state you find yourself in when you come back at three in the morning with the smell of smoke and beer on your coat, with your heart broken for people, with your mind running a hundred different directions searching for some way to help, with your prayers naming specific names of hurting strangers, and the calm assurance in spite of it all, because you know that it is not about you.

My parents are funny. They came in on Monday to celebrate my birthday. We were driving through town trying to find somewhere to eat. The chose this place called the "Coach House." They said that it used to be a really "happening" place and that all of the college kids used to go to it. We walked in...it was set up like a diner, full of cute old couples, drinking thier coffee, and eating thier nostalgic homestyle plates of food. Not that this is a bad enivronment mind you, I love old people, and I also happen to love homestyle plates of food. But I wish I could've captured the look on my mom and dad's face. They were crushed. Thier past had been morphed into something completley foriegn. The young kids had been replaced by thier grandparents, the exciting atmosphere had been replaced quiet liesure. Oh how things change. Following this sad turn of events we sat at our table and after about a minute of deliberation, my dad pulls out his phone and says, "Ok, we will be right there..." then he turns to us and says, "Hey guys, we gotta go." (he didn't want to be rude and just leave, my dad is so considerate:)) We stand up and abruptly leave the resturaunt. The rest of the night was rather enjoyable. We picked a brand new resturant. They had never been to it before; they had no expectations. It had good food. It was full of young people...

Things change: the things that I experience now I will never get the chance to experience again. Enjoy them, embrace them, remember them...then move on.