Questions Not Answered (Today)

Why can’t we just all get along? Why does the world not work that way? How come one nation say to another, “Peace be with you! Prosper. How can we help in your need?” While the other nation answers with thanks and acceptance, in turn offering to help the other nation where it may need it most because in truth, we’re all in need of something.

Why can’t people seem to love those who are different than them? How come when different opinions arise, we immediately jump to conclusions, aggressiveness, and disregard? Even those who are evil can be and should be loved, justly, but still treated certain amounts of dignity and respect as a fellow human being, though we all have moments when we act not human, but as selfish beasts.

Why are we so quick to tear down one another when we hear something we do not agree with? How come we’re too quick to slander, gossip, and write off those who are not like us in thought or deed and cast their thoughts and beliefs up to hate each time, rather than listening to where their mindset comes from and listening some more, and actually hearing what they say, before responding.

Why is it no longer okay to disagree with someone but still love them? How come we get the feeling of needing to respond, retaliate and defend ourselves deep in our chest when someone says something that we don’t agree with, letting that feeling rise up, sit under our tongues and spill out in passive aggressiveness, demeaning words and lack of respect?

We are a people quick to speak. Quick to take things personally. Quick to assume. Quick to find those most like ourselves in a circle. Quick to hide behind screens and say things we would never say exposed to someone’s face. 

We are not united, but we carry the title.
We are not united, but we wave the banner.
We are not united, but how can we be?

-Cliff

Cliff’s Note: Today, unity feels like an easy to say buzzword with no weight to it. Tomorrow, will it feel the same?

The Island

Once upon a time, there was a man and a woman who lived together in paradise. They had a mansion on an island in the Pacific and both worked hard for what they had in jobs they both loved. They were both born on the island, and they had never seen any reason to leave it. The island had snow-capped mountains they could climb on the weekends and the best beaches the world had ever seen that you could walk to any time you wanted. The couple never argued and never had any disagreements between themselves or their neighbors because the family and friends they were surrounded by all looked just like them and believed just like them.

News from outside the island came in waves, just like the ones rolling onto the beach - steady, strong and from the same place. But the news rarely concerned them because it came from sources that looked like them and believed like them, and at the end of the day, the news from the rest of the world rarely ever effected their own island, which was far, far away from any other large landmass with people on it.

One day, the man and the woman had a child - a child with its father’s eyes and its mother’s drive. The child grew up on the island, just like the mother and father, and it went all the same places its parents went and did all the same things its parents did, much like any child. The child grew up happy. How could it not? It was surrounded by mountains, beaches, a loving family and more friends than it could keep up with that all looked like him and believed like him and his family. The child was smart and gifted, and but not in a way that would make it stand out or appear anything but normal by the island’s standards. It was destined to be on the island for a lifetime and to thrive and build a life there. But one day, when the child grew up, two questions arose after watching the same news, with the same people, in the same place: Why does the man on the news not look like me, and why does everyone hate him?

-Cliff

Cliff’s Note: We’re all on different islands. Good thing there are boats.

Beautiful Things

This month, my wife, Sarah, is keeping a journal full of the things that other people find beautiful throughout their day.

That in itself is a beautiful thing, but it’s also one of the most intentional ways I’ve ever seen an individual pursue friendship. Not only taking the time to reach out to friends daily to gather their thoughts, feelings and insights into their world, but also way it makes others think.

The first day she asked me what my beautiful thing was, it was a Monday that I had spent entirely in my office from 6:30a - 5p. That required me to really think about it. What did I actually see that was beautiful around my cubicle? Aside from my beachside computer background. Was it the cleaning women saying hello to me? Was it the way the fog was settling in over the city? Was it how technology allowed me to take an elevator instead of 5 flights of stairs?

Beauty comes to us in so many ways, and it doesn’t have to be a grand mountain scene or an ocean-front property. Sometimes, I think we can all get a little spoiled by beauty and cease to recognize its presence in everyday life. Similar to a reason I’ve heard people say they would never want to live by the mountains; they would be afraid the daily routine of seeing them would make us lose majesty.

Sarah walked in right before I started to write this entry this morning, looking beautiful (She made a rule that my beautiful thing for the day can’t be seeing her, sigh). I stopped, looked at her and said, “You’ve distracted me,” (in a good way of course"). But now I realize something, she didn’t distract me - she inspired me. And I hope she inspires you today today with the question: What’s something beautiful you saw today?

Cliff

-Sarah’s Note: Notice the beautiful things, big or small.

On Purpose

I’ve always struggled with not feeling ‘called to ministry,’ in a traditional sense anyway. When I was 18, I would have bet $1 Million that I would be a youth pastor or a community pastor by now because I believe, and still do to this day, that my Creator spoke to me at a specific moment one summer’s night in 2010 and said, “You have a purpose.”

Ever since then, I’ve been in a constant tug-of-war with life about what that purpose is and what qualifies as following God’s ‘purpose’ and feeling this “called to ministry” language that Christians tie to said feeling.

This morning, however, I read a piece in a book called ‘Exodus’ about a man named Bezalel. This is another guy that God said, “You have a purpose,” too, but also in a very non-traditional sense. According to the book, this is what God told him:

“I have called you by name, and I have filled you with the Spirit of God with the ability of knowledge, intelligence and craftsmanship to devise artistic designs and the ability to make all that I have commanded of you.”

That’s somewhat paraphrased, but what I took away from that was that Diving ‘calling’ and ‘purpose’ are not uniformed to what culture dictates. ‘Calling’ and ‘purpose’ are dictated by God to us, and sometimes we don’t even know what they mean, much less the culture around us; it’s that tug-of-war game of listening, following and being where you’re at with where you feel your own purpose, and I feel like we usually have a pretty good internal compass of when we’re in and out of that calling.

There’s a lot of comfort in knowing life’s calling for each of us all look different, but that those callings are never ‘less than’ another persons, even when they may look more divine or higher than our own. There is purpose in putting pen to paper, calling in creating calendar invites and divinity in driving to another meeting and that’s what I’m choosing to believe in today.

-Cliff

Cliff’s Note: God is in the gut.

Building A Kitchen Table

In my wife, Sarah, and I’s kitchen, we have a table that can sit six people comfortably and seven people if we really want to squeeze in tight. We haven’t tried it yet, but that’s how many physical seats we have ready to have warm bodies sitting in them.

It’s with these seats that we want to host people. We want to have people over for dinner to sit in them, to have people over to play games to sit in them, or just to have people over to sit in them to talk when they need to have someone to listen. Bottom-line, we don’t have seven seats just to have seven cold seats in our home; we have seven seats for seven people to warm them up and feel welcome.

But that’s the question - when people come into our home, are we creating space for them to feel welcome? Literally, we know there are seats at the table for everyone, but are we creating a home and a space where there’s actually room for everyone at the table? Where no one is excluded for their looks, thoughts or lives.

A table is more than the seats around it and more than the physical materials it was built with. A table is also built with respect, with openness and with a readiness to listen to all of those who happen to sit around it.

I’ve got the seats and the structure in tact, now it’s time to work on building the intangibles.

-Cliff

Cliff’s Note: A table was not meant to have cold seats, but a warm welcoming that you can feel as soon as one walks through the door.

Who Cares About the Details?

I don’t often write much about Faith on this blog, not specifically anyway. It’s hidden in the trees if you look for it, but often times, I want to write in a way that gives the reader the opportunity to interpret what the words mean and feel to themselves, rather than try to always put a certain spin on things.

With that, I cannot say want I am feeling this morning without first saying that I operate from a Christian belief and perspective, so take that as you will as you read.

Today, as there is everyday, there is peace in the world, even when it doesn’t feel like it. There is peace in the hope that one day, we’ll be in God’s perfect House - a House set at the perfect temperature, with the best views and where nothing breaks. A House where there’s no striving to fix things, be anywhere else or do anything. A House that’s, essentially, just being in God’s presence all the time, which relieves guilt and anxieties and replaces them with assurance and rest.

God’s House is going to be the best House because God is in the details, and God cares about the details. Ever since He communicated how to build an Alter and a Tabernacle, with all of the acute measurements and materials, He has cared about the small things, and I can only imagine how legit His house is going to be when I get to step inside it because I know he cared about every inch of its construction process. And like this, I hope I can remember He cares about the small things in my own life and in your life, even when life’s problems feel anything but small. The God who created everything cares.

-Cliff

Cliff’s Note: Is there really anything considered ‘too small’ for a God that is so big?

Chasing a Hero

As I sit here trying to calm down, relighting the incense, and feeling the burn of a mostly-finished glass of bourbon in my throat, I think to myself, “Why didn’t you click save when you wrote this post the first time?”

And also, “Is this really what you thought life would be like?”

Right now, I’m flustered, sitting up here in my garage apartment alone, trying to re-write thoughts I’ve already written, watching the incense burn down once again, and the thoughts aren’t the same. The flow is gone. The words have changed. The passion absorbed by frustration, and the desire clouded by “I should probably just go to bed.”

But I’ll write.

Yuh see, when I moved into this apartment, I was chasing one of my heroes, so I thought. Donald Miller is his name; Blue Like Jazz is his fame. I moved here with goals and dreams, wanting to be just like this hero of mine. I wanted to live above where cars slept, work a day job that allowed me to save my creative juices for writing sessions in the morning and at night. I wanted to become a published author by the age of 28. That’s what Don did, breaking into the New York Times Best Seller list at a super ripe age. He could do it, why couldn’t I? After all, Don and I are similar guys. We’ve practically lived the same sort of life, both intentionally on my part, and unintentionally.

I too moved away from my Bible-belt buckle of a hometown to the great Pacific Northwest to get as far away from the culture I grew up in as I could. I too left with questions about Faith, what the world looked like around me and why a Coors Light was enough reason to be sent to the Place They Don’t Serve Breakfast In (that’s a Newsboys reference for you kids at home). I too was a player, having gone through my fair share of relationships and leaving a trail of destruction in my wake. I too was a writer, a storyteller and a guy who tried not to take life too seriously. Aren’t we the same, Don and I?

Except I got a day job that allowed me to save my creative juices for writing sessions in the morning and at night, but I haven’t been very good at using those juices. Except I’m not a published author, and I’m definitely not anywhere close to selling anything in New York. Come to think of it, I’m not even sure I still have the same sort of boldness for adventure I once had that would take me to New York on a whim of Faith that I once learned from my hero.

It feels funny to write (and rewrite) these words at a table that I’ve written thousands of other words at. Words that have always been full of hope, honesty, transparency and aspiration, but are now outnumbered by thoughts that are full of doubt, fear and uncertainty. Is what I really wanted only going to amount to that? I’d like to think not.

These days are the days when it feels like I’m becoming less of a person I’ve been chasing and more like someone I’ve been running from. Finances are tight, words are few and winter is on its way, dragging a looming number 29 right behind it. But I’m writing.

Writing.

And while the incense is nearly gone and the bourbon long gone, the words are not. They will someday turn into a page, and hopefully, that page will turn . . . into something I’ve been chasing for a long, long time.

Cheers to the heroes.

-Cliff

Cliff’s Note: Chase a hero, you might not catch em’. Heroes are fast; that’s why they’re heroes, and that’s why they’re worth chasin’.

Living to Leave the World Better, But Still Destroying It

Months go by fast these days. I feel like I’m writing consistently again, and then I look down at the date and realize it’s been almost four weeks since I took the time to create something and take it from inside my mind to outside of it.

Things fill my time, without me even realizing it. Work, recreation, reading, relationships, all good things, but all things that take seconds, minutes and hours. Something else that takes up my time? Social media. And today, I saw something on it that, quite frankly, sparked a fire deep in the pit of my stomach.

I’ve noticed that it’s become a common theme amongst my generation to (pardon my verbiage) shit on how our parents, families and role models raised us, particularly in the Christian demographic, which I am part of and quite accustomed to. I do this myself, often. I take all the negative things that happened to me as a young person growing up in a Bible-Belt, Christian culture, and I demonize the entire experience. I pick it apart, filleting negative memory after negative memory, until I create a cynical soul inside my being toward everything and everyone that tried only to love me.

Here’s the thing:
people are not perfect. Parents are not perfect. Pastors are not perfect.
People hurt. Parents wound. Pastors are human.

And guess what? The people who raised us - their people, parents and pastors were not perfect either, and people still hurt people, parents wounded their children, and despite popular belief, the Saints were humans too.

I’m really tired of my personal droning and others’ droning on and on about how messed up we are and how messed up our world is because of those who raised us. This is not a specific generation’s fault. This is the human experience: we are raised, we grow, we are wounded, we learn, we teach, we wound, we die, only to leave more wounds, while trying to mend where we were wounded once ourselves.

As a human, it is our only hope that we leave the world a better place for those coming after us than it was for ourselves, and while we do that, we are bound to do a lot of damage. Just as our parents, grandparents and others have done.

I remember all of the rules I grew up around in a Conservative, Christian culture: “Don’t read Harry Potter; it’s full of witchcraft.” “Don’t watch Rugrats; Angelica is rude and has no manners.” “Don’t dance, drink, swear or smoke; you’ll rot in Hell.” The list goes on. And now, I am beginning to see why it does.

These rules, while looking back, seem silly, savage and detrimental to being ‘Saved,’ but I am starting to understand not why they were rules, but more of why those raising me felt like they should be. They were trying to protect me, love me and help me grow up in a world better than the one they knew, and I cannot hate them for that.

I have been hurt. I have been wounded, and I am part of the human experience, which guarantees me of one thing: I will hurt, I will would and I am going to impact others around me with these traits. I only hope there is grace. . . and that they somehow don’t hate me for it.

-Cliff

Cliff’s Note: Process this piece. Take it as a rough draft - not as a finished thought. As a wounded, try to understand the wounder.

Why Don't You Chase Your Goals?

Not having goals may make life feel meaningless, but having goals and doing nothing to achieve them makes it feel damning.

It never fails, the hardest thing for me about writing has always been sitting down to write. I’ll do just about everything under the sun (i.e scroll through Instagram, taxes, iron my socks) to avoid starting the writing the process. I’ll tell myself that I want to write, but I’ll then find every excuse not too.

A few months ago, I was sitting in my room one afternoon living in the middle of one of those excuses not to write, and I fell down a rabbit hole of YouTube videos from the TV show, ‘The Office.’ It was in this hole that I found something, a kick in the pants that I needed to hear. There was a video that featured interviews from the selected cast of ‘The Office’ reading lines from their future characters. In it, the actress who plays Pam, Jenna Fischer, read this line regarding her job on the show as a receptionist:

“I don’t care if they get rid of me . . . I don’t know what I’m going to do, but whatever it is, it’s got to be a career move, not just another arbitrary job. Jim’s advice was, ‘It’s better to be at the bottom of a ladder that you want to climb rather than halfway up one that you don’t.’”

That last line, the one about being halfway up a ladder that you don’t want to be up, really got to my 26-year-old self.

It’s a weird place to be in, having goals, dreams and aspirations, but not doing anything at all to pursue them. It's like looking out over something beautiful and turning away from it like you had just looked at the back of your hand for the hundredth time. It’s a realization that’s not only sad, but even more so, self-deprecating and hostile.

I have goals; They’re aspirations that I set for myself over the years based on my gifts, skill set and passions. I want to write a book one day. I want to start my own business that funnels a communal environment into a town that lacks it. I want to invest in the lives of individuals who are younger than me who are seeking the same types of things that I sought. I want to make a difference, and to be living a life that doesn’t pursue any of the differences you want to make is living a life without purpose.

There are a lot of reason why I chose (choose?) not to pursue my goals. Pursuing goals isn’t safe, and there’s risk. There’s a great possibility of failing, and is there anything scarier or more demoralizing than failing to achieve one’s goals or having others criticize your dreams?

I think not.

For a long time, I’ve felt halfway up a ladder that I didn’t want to be up. I was climbing up a series of safe steps that were comfortable and provisionary, but while they were safe steps, they were also dangerous. They were steps that were turning my hobbies into career moves and turning my goals into unachievable dreams due to lack of pursuit and experience. I was scared of failure, and I was scared of lack of provision.

Recently, at my church in Tulsa, we went through a sermon series that covered the book of Judges in the Bible. In this book, there’s an overwhelming pattern of God’s people repeating a pattern of sin and failure over and over again that looks like this: The people serve God, they fail and fall into sin, they become enslaved, they cry out to God to save them, God raises up a Judge to deliver them, they are delivered, and then the entire cycle repeats itself over and over again. The funny thing about the book of Judges and this cycle is that it’s really easy to focus on the repeating failure of the people in the story, rather than the repeating pattern of God’s redemption.

I don’t want to take this Biblical narrative out of context, but I think there’s something to be said for God’s redemption in people’s failures - even in regards to pursuing the goals and passions that He has instilled in us. It’s one thing to fail in choosing to follow our own, self-preservation narrative in rebellion to what He has put in our hearts. It’s another thing to fail at trying to follow God and the dreams He’s given us - in that, I believe God has endless patience and endless grace, and that is a good realization to believe in.

After taking a hard look at the ladder I was standing on, I’ve stepped off of it for the time being, and I’m standing at the bottom of a new one with the same old fears of failure and lack of provision. I can’t see to the top of this ladder, and I’m not exactly sure what’s supporting it; however, I feel like this is a ladder that’s made up more of the steps that lead to goals - goals that make life feel meaningful and a lot less damning.

-Cliff

Cliff’s Note: It’s never too late to look at what ladder you’re on.

If Fear Leads to the Dark Side, Am I A Sith?

As I’m writing this, I’m sitting on a bench on the west side of Guthrie Green Park in Downtown Tulsa. This happens to be the same bench that I ripped a hole in my pants on nearly a year and a half ago- a hole that ripped down the entire crotch of my pants in the middle of my work day on my lunch hour.

At that time, I was new to Tulsa and didn’t really have anyone to go to lunch with, so I swung by Jimmy Johns on my own and thought I’d head down to the park to eat my sandwich because what better place is there to eat a sandwich (sadwich?) by yourself? Anyway, as soon as I got out of my truck and went to sit on a bench to enjoy my delicious Turkey Tom, my pants ripped, sending me on an emergency run to Gap for a new pair of khakis and sending me back to my truck to eat my sandwich in the confines of closed doors because that’s what you do when you have a hole in your pants that’s the same size as the hole in the ozone layer.

Not much has changed since that afternoon a year and a half ago; however, at the same time, so much has.

-This same bench is still sitting here, and I’m still sitting on the same bench.
-I still don’t know many people in town.
-I’m still pretty shy and nervous about what people will think of me eating alone.
-I’m still dressing the same( though I try to buy sturdier pairs of pants).
-I still like the same food, same music and same sports teams.

All of those things seem the same. But at the same time, my entire world looks different.

I’m not wearing ripped pants, and I don’t have that same truck that sheltered my holy pant shame a year and a half ago. Come to think of it, I don’t even have those replacement pants. I have a new job, live in a different house and have covered my body with a few new tattoos to remind me of where I’ve been and why. I have a few new friends, and I’ve sadly lost a few old ones, and each one of these small, but big things, really has the scenery around me looking differently than I ever could have imagined it back then.

Since the last time I sat on this bench, I’ve made a lot of mistakes- most of which everyone around me is aware of, yet at the same time, I’ve done a lot of things to try to fix those mistakes and make sure they don’t happen again. Through some counseling, accountability and growing up, I’m a different person than I was then, and I’d like to think so for the better. But what if I’m not. What if I’m just a different person?

-Last time I sat here, I was more confident.
I was more confident because no one knew my mistakes.

-Last time I sat here, I was more sure of who I thought I was and who I thought I wanted to be.
I had goals, and those goals were shaping how my world looked.

Now, I lack confidence, care astronomically more about what people think about me and about what I create, I have almost zero goals, and did I mention I care way too much about what people think of me? It’s the soul reason I haven’t written a blog in 8 months, haven’t posted anything related to my personal life in more than a year on any social media outlet, and honestly, the reason I spend so much time behind a camera rather than in front of one- you can’t see me. Fear is the root. What you see (or don’t) is the stem. I don’t want to see what kind of plant that could bloom. 

Everyone says perfect love casts out fear. All my Christian friends say that if you know God’s love, it’s perfect, and therefore, I shouldn’t fear. I guess maybe I’m still trying to understand that love because Lord knows, I’m still living in a lot of fear- At least over ripping my pants, anyway  

In the mean time, it’s nice to write again, folks. Cheers to you.

-Cliff

Cliff’s Note: Writing without fear of judgement feels great; do it more often. 

The Thanksgiving Holiday Feels

The holiday feels aren't being felt. 

It's Thanksgiving, yet this might be the most removed from a holiday I've ever felt. I've been so busy with work, life and everything else, that the fact it's the holiday season hasn't even begun to set in with me. It's like I haven't had time to even think about feeling thankful, but when I do try to think about it, the more it seems to jump out to me how weird of a word Thanksgiving is. At the root of it is the word, "thanks," and at the end of it is the word, "giving." Looking at it this way is funny because rarely does anyone, myself included, say thanks after they give or feel thanks. 

I realize the actual word is meant to represent the "thanks we give" for all that we're thankful, but still. It's a funny thought to give to someone and say thank you, rather than to say thank you just upon receiving something from someone; however, giving is a blessing, and I think it's good to be thankful for opportunities to give, just as it is to be thankful for opportunities we've received. As the Proverb says, "The generous will themselves be blessed, for they share their food with the poor." Not only is the blessing of receiving something to be thankful for, but so is the blessing of giving. 

Even though the heart behind Thanksgiving is being thankful for all we have, maybe it's important to be thankful for all we have gotten to give, as well. After all, it's better to give than receive, and where things are better, things call for more thanksgiving.

Another issue I'm having with feeling thankful this Thanksgiving is being self conscience about where the thankfulness I do feel is coming from. I feel thankful that I have a warm car to drive in. I feel thankful that I have a home to drive to, and I feel thankful that I have family and friends surrounding me to see every time I open a door. No matter where I turn, or what I do, I'll always be able to find someone to support me, and I wouldn't trade that for the world. It's definitely something to be thankful for, but in reality, why I am thankful? Am I thankful for what I have been blessed with or am I thankful that I'm not in someone else's shoes- someone else's shoes who might not have shoes, someone who is in need.

I’m not the young man sitting on the corner in Downtown Tulsa holding a sign that says, “I take smiles.” I’m not the girl that’s been abused so many times that she can’t even look a stranger in the eye. I’m not the man trying to take care of his young daughter day by day always trying to find somewhere safe to sleep. By comparison, I’m thankful because I’m not in any of these positions.

I have friends. I have family. I have food, clothes and shelter. I'm blessed beyond measure. “Look how much God has blessed me,” I think to myself.

I have become thankful from comparison rather than from compassion. The moment I start to compare myself to others, I begin to feel boastful or “better than."

Jesus was the opposite. Jesus “felt compassion on the crowds” when he saw them. He empathized with people and served them.

“When we are in the presence of others who are better, we become discontent, yet when we are in the presence of God, even our minds will find gratitude.”

When we dwell on God, we switch from feeling inadequate to feeling gratitude and thanksgiving. We don’t begin to compare ourselves to God, but we, in our smallness, begin to wonder that God would even care for us in our smallness, and we can certainly take joy in that. Hopefully the thought of that will start sparking some holiday feels. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Sometimes you have to think to feel and feel to be thankful. 

Christmas in October

There's a passage in my (ESV) Bible in Matthew chapter 2 that's simply headlined, "Herod Kills the Children." This is one of those headlines in the Bible that you look at and think, "How did something like this end up in this book, and how could a book about a loving God contain a such a morbid story? Because, after all, a 'loving God' wouldn't really let things like this happen, much less happen in His book.

The story behind this headline is a part of the Biblical Christmas narrative of the Christ being born. Essentially, in a Cliff Note's summary of what happened, when Herod, the ruler of Judea at the time Jesus was born, found of that another 'King' had been born in his land, he set out to find this King and kill Him, so the other 'King' (Jesus) wouldn't be a threat to him; however, Herod was tricked and unable to discover the exact location and identity of the newborn King, so he had all the male children in Bethlehem and in the surrounded region who where two years old or younger killed. All of them. Hundreds of children dead to erase any threat to Herod's throne and kingdom. Hundreds of kids dead, all for the life of one child that lived.

This small portion of the Christmas story is a portion that I had never really noticed before, and frankly, it's a portion that really bothered me when I read it. After all, why would God let all these innocent, young kids die by the sword at the hands of an evil king while Jesus escaped to Egypt safe and sound? I mean, why is it necessary that this is part of the story? Couldn't God do skip the killing hundreds or thousands of kids part and go straight from Jesus in a manger to Jesus picking the disciples? It seems pretty unnecessary, especially when one considers God's all-powerful, loving nature. 

Maybe it wasn't necessary, but it is telling.

After I sat there fuming for a few minutes and asking lots of hard questions, a thought occurred to me: That headline, 'Herod Kills the Children', is the way the story should go. That's the way the story should end- without grace. That headline is almost a picture of what we deserve without the salvation of the Christ. We die. He lives.

But that's not the way the story ends; that's more of a telling depiction of what could have been.

In reality, Christ is the only perfect One to have every lived. He's the only one that is really deserving of Life and eternity; we are not. In a world with no grace, Christ is safe in Egypt, and we're slain in our sin. In a world in which Christ does not die for us, we die the death we deserve, yet grace does exist, and we get to live. Because of Christ, we are not dead. Because of God's grace, we get to live. Consider us not children caught in a death trap, but instead, children in the pursuit of freedom because of the gift of grace.

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: "The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair."

How Do We Become Who We Become?

Do you ever have those moments when you step back, take a look at yourself and what you're doing in real time, and think, "How did I get like this?"

These are moments when you might look at your (insert age here) old self and remember your younger self and think, "What would past me think of present me right now?" Would he/she like it? Would he/she hate it? What advice would he/she have to present me to either encourage or discourage what life now is? 

I've been having these thoughts and asking these questions a lot lately. I've been scrolling through all the old photos (with all the old hairstyles) I have stored up on my phone and on my computer from early post-college, college and high school looking for that certain photo that really shows an older, different looking me. I've read a few old journals I've written in trying to figure out where the good (and bad) changes have happened. I've sat down and looked back on some really important, but really terrible moments in my life that I'm ashamed of and guilty of and walked through those moments on the ground level, retracing each instant and wishing present me was there to tell past me to stop what I'm doing. I've done all these things, and I still can't seem to understand "how I got like this."

How did a 12-year-old baseball fanatic turn into a high-school swimmer who loves screamo-music and skinny jeans that turned into and a cowboy college mascot? How did a guy who once desired and felt (feels?) called to work in Christian ministry end up struggling even to hold on to an ounce of faith and thought about leaving the Church all together?

How do we become who we become, with all the dreams and desires and with all the sins and failures that make up a person? We change so much, especially in our younger years; it's amazing. Looking back, I know that the younger me never would've thought older me would be what I am today. I wouldn't have dreamed of the cool experiences that I've gotten to have, but i also wouldn't believe the sins and the issues in life that I've struggled with and the mistakes I've made. 

It's amazing what a human life is capable of. We go from an innocent, new born baby, capable of doing no harm, to a decision making, full-of-life adult capable of solving the world's greatest problems or causing the world great harm. It all happens so quickly, and we don't even realize it, and the things that shape us into who we are and what routes we choose vary. We all make good choices, and we all make bad choices; it's part of being human, and frankly, becoming human is part of being human. So, how do we become who we become or how can we fix who we've become? I don't think there's an exact answer or formula. I think there's only Grace. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Thank God for grace.

When the "Good News" Turns Into Old News

There's a quote that says, "News is to the mind what sugar is to the body." If that's true, which in my case it feels like it is, I understand why my mind is always craving a new story like my taste buds often crave a bottle of ice-cold Coke. We all crave new information or new fun facts, and it makes sense that the foundation of the word 'news' is the word 'new' because, in the end, we all crave new things, whether its new clothes, a new experience or new information- like news. Our minds feed off of it, and if you don't believe me, just look at how many times you catch yourself checking Facebook each day.

Typically, I spend the beginning of each of my days absorbing a lot of news- everything from national news and sports headlines to catching up on blogs and social media. After an hour or so of checking all my favorite news outlets, catching up on all the latest on social media and discussing it all with co-workers or friends, I could typically tell you all of the major news headlines from the past 24 hours, as well as what most of my best friends did all night or had for dinner- all pieces of information, not all of which are that important.

It's funny to me how my mind craves and processes news and is able to recall it. News, whether its facts, figures or statistics, or just a semi-important headline, just seems to stick with me. I have no problem remembering it, carrying on conversations about it or simply reading it; however, when it comes to the 'Good News,' my mind doesn't work that way at all.

If the meaning of the word Gospel is "good news," then why doesn't my mind seem to absorb the Gospel in the same way that it seems to absorb other news? It's like my mind has an on/off switch for how and what it chooses to want to retain or absorb. If my friend posts on Instagram, I could probably tell you the photo and the caption of that photo with no trouble at all up to several hours after I saw it, but if someone were to ask me what I'd read in my Bible that morning, I'd probably respond with a, "Uhh.. I can't remember the exact verse or concept, but it was really good." . . . 

It's just as if my mind doesn't treat the "Good News" like news at all anymore. My mind doesn't always crave it like 'sugar to the body,' and it doesn't really feel like the Gospel comes with the newness of news anymore. It's as if my mind has subconsciously turned the Gospel into a story I've heard a thousand times over that still has too many big words that I still can't comprehend. What was once "Good News" feels like old news, and my mind doesn't seem to crave old news.

I don't know if this is a head issue or a heart issue, and I really don't know how to go about working on it. I just recognize the disconnect I've been having between the head and the heart on craving, reading and absorbing the Gospel. I want to crave it like I crave checking other news in the morning. I want to be able to retain it like I can retain each of the national headlines I scroll through on my computer screen. But how?

I don't have a solution, but I know I'm not alone in feeling like the Good News of the Gospel sometimes feeling like old news. After all, how does one take a message that has been told for thousands of years and make it 'news'? I'm not really sure, but I think if we can begin to seek that one piece of newness in the news of the Good News, it can start to cure that sugary news craving and spark the "Good New" into New News again.  

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Seek that one piece of newness in the news of the Good News that cures that sugary craving.  

Who Answers the Question 'Who Am i?'

It's easy to forget who you are, easier to forget who you were and easiest to forget who you want to be.

Desires turn into far-fetched, unachievable ideas, goals turn into dreams that didn't come true and the future looks like it's going to feel just like the present. 

It's times like this when we ask ourselves the questions who we used to be, who we are and who we are becoming and when we a) don't receive any answers or b) don't like the answers we receive.

The other day, I started reading a letter I wrote to myself two years ago for when I was struggling in times of doubt. I wrote it a few days before I picked up my life and moved it halfway across the country for the first time- away from friends and family and into the unknown. This was a time in my life where I didn't have much in regards to things, and, frankly, didn't really know what I was doing, but it was also a time in my life when I think I knew myself better than I ever had. I had dreams, goals and faith, and I knew specifically what I wanted out of life and what life wanted out of me. Lately, however, I haven't felt like I've known myself at all.

"I don't know where you're at or what you're doing now, but at this point, you're happy. You don't have much money, and you're not making any. You're living out of two suitcases, but it seems to be more than enough. You're living on faith, and you don't know what's coming next, but faith is all you need. Money, success and fame won't get you anything, so don't chase it. God doesn't want you or expect you to have a lot of stuff or to make a lot of money. He expects you to trust Him, love others and love Him."

That's a snippet of what I found out of the letter I wrote to myself nearly 730 days ago. It's funny how much can change in such a short amount of time and quickly you can lose yourself, lose your goals and nearly lose faith and purpose completely. It's also funny how well it sounds like I knew myself and knew what I wanted then compared to now when I feel like I don't know myself and have much of what I think I want.

As of late, I've let culture manipulate who I am and who I want to be. I've let the worries of money and career overwhelm me and erase the hopes, dreams and goals I once had, leaving nothing but questions about those hopes, dreams and goals left. Back then, I let God tell me who I was and who I wanted to be, and He formed all my hopes, dreams and goals and provided a way to pursue them. He not only asked the question, "Who Am I?", but He also told me who I was.

When you find yourself asking the question, "Who am I?", who's supposed to answer?

Is it God? Your parents or mentors? Your friends? I'm not sure, and it's probably different for each person depending on what you believe, but I don't think it hurts to look in the mirror at yourself to reflect on the past to find some answers. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Who am i? Look at who God says you are.

"Make Yourself at Home"

You know that awkward moment when you go visit a friend or family member's house to stay for a night or two, and they leave you with the phrase, "Make yourself at home," which leaves you with the awkward thought of, "Do they really want me to do that?"

There aren't a lot of places on this earth that I would feel comfortable sitting in my underwear, sprawled out on a couch dropping Oreo cookies into a glass of milk and eating them with a spoon while I watch Netflix. After all, I'm a 24-year-old male trying to live a professional lifestyle.

There is one place to do feel comfortable doing that though, and that place is home.

There's something about crossing the barrier of those four walls surrounding all my belongings and life that release the tension of caring what the world around you thinks about you. As soon as I come home and open the door, I can immediately start to relax. I don't worry about how I look, what I'm wearing, and if we're being honest, how I smell. Home is a place where comfort goes to new levels and safety feels almost guaranteed, and really, there's only one place you can feel that and that's at your own home.

There's a big difference between a friend telling me to make myself and home and me really feeling at home. Sure, a lot of it has to do with not being able to freely walk around half naked in someone else's house, but it also has a lot to do with feeling comfortable and secure, not just in the house, but in yourself. A home is a place where you feel completely okay being yourself- no masks, fronts or pretending to be someone else to impress someone. Walking into your home is like taking your shoes off after a long day of being on your feet; it's freedom.

Really, we all have a desire and a need for 'home.' We all want a place we feel protected, at peace and, more than anything, accepted and loved. The hard thing is knowing that not everyone has that kind of 'home' and knowing that even when people do, sometimes they try to make their home more about the things inside it rather than the things it represent. Not everyone has a place they can come to and feel safe and accepted, and not everyone can feel safe and accepted when they do have a place they call home; however, what can we do about it?

We can accept, protect and love others. 

Home isn't just a physical place; it's a feeling and a sense being truly loved for who we really are. It isn't a stationary structure; it's a gift we can carry with us wherever we go and share with others around us.

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Inviting others into your home is inviting them into acceptance. 

When Having No Emotions Turns Into Ignoring Your Emotions

It's one week after our nation's celebration of independence and freedom, and it's almost as if that celebration never happened. It's been a long week in America . . . heck, it's really been more of a long month. With all the tragedy in Orlando, all the police brutality and police shootings, not to mention one of the craziest presidential campaign seasons anyone could've ever imagined, it's no wonder it feels like the United States is spinning out of control. Out of all this, I haven't really known how to feel, what to think or how to respond, but for some reason, something my friend, Clark, said on social media has stuck out to me the most: 

"More than Freedom or Equality, Violence is the true American way. It's all we know. It's not a new issue. America is literally built on the bones of indigenous peoples. One nation under God. Or is it a nation under guns, racism, war, money, slavery, and genocide?"

That right there is a bold statement. It's critical, controversial and to make some people upset, but it also makes you think and ponder the weight that it holds. Is it true? That may depend on who you ask. It is false? Definitely not completely; however, what it is is thought provoking and emotional. 

In what has been a week full of emotion in the United States, I haven't felt hardly any emotion at all. I've been spiritually absent, lacking any desire to read, pray or worship, and other than occasionally checking the news to see what the latest developments are on the issues surrounding the country, I haven't done anything to even think about what's been going on all around me. I've isolated myself from all things uncomfortable and challenging and surrounded myself with things and activities to distract me from the reality that exists and begs for my attention. I've tried to pause spirituality, ignore problems that larger than life and above all, avoid emotional attachment and feeling emotion to anything. 

It wasn't until I read the above sentence from my friend that I finally felt some sort of real, raw emotion to everything that's been going on in the world around me. It's not a quote directed at any specific event that's happened over the past month, but it's a quote that kind of tries to encompass all that's been going on. I'm not sure why that quote pinged my emotions like it did and woke them up from their hibernation. Maybe it was because I wasn't sure whether I agreed with it or not or because it is so bold or because it came from someone my own age that I look up to. Whatever it was, it really woke me up, and I hope it does the same for you.

It's not healthy to ignore emotions or pause spirituality just because the world's and life's problems seem too big. Emotions are meant to be felt and dealt with- that's why they're natural, and ignoring spirituality because you hate thinking about a God Who is in control letting all this happen is even more stressful and overwhelming than ignoring that God completely. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Feel emotion, deal with emotion, reveal emotion. 

Heaven on Earth

"Jesus died so that you could be saved from your sins and so that you could go to Heaven."

This is what I've always heard and known to be true. I heard it in Sunday school growing up, all the way through college. It's a simple, yet completely complex sentence when it's unpacked, and up until today, a sentence that I never thought could've been mis-shaping my reality of what Heaven may be like.

First off, let me start by saying that I agree with the above sentence. I believe that Jesus died so I could be saved from my sins and one day see eternity; however, today, something was pointed out to me that completely rocked my world. At the end of the above sentence is the phrase, 'go to Heaven.' It's a phrase that we all use when a loved one passes away, when referencing the 90's Disney movie about dogs going to Heaven and when talking about the after life. Going to Heaven is something to hope and long for; however, what if we have it wrong? What if, ultimately, we don't all go to Heaven, but instead, Heaven comes here?

There's a simple conversation in Luke 24 that takes place after Jesus has come back from being dead. He shows up to His disciples and asks them if they have anything to eat. Then, they give Him a piece of fish, and He ate it. 

That's it.

That story was enough to convince me that maybe my views of Eternity and Heaven have been far from accurate. You see, I've always imagined, like many people, that Heaven is a place of harps, clouds and togas (oh, my!). I've tried to imagine its pearly gates, unending worship and perfection, but honestly, I think I've been imagining it wrong. I've been imagining Jesus' resurrection wrong, and therefor have imagined Heaven wrong (even though it's still probably unimaginable). 

Jesus died, and He didn't resurrect in Heaven. He resurrected on earth. He didn't come back as a ghost or a spirit, but He came back as a fish-eating human with scars on His hands, feet and sides. He brought the resurrection to earth and brought Heaven to earth in turn. 

No longer do I just believe that I'm going to go to Heaven when I die for eternity. But I now see and believe that because Christ resurrected from the dead, He will in turn resurrect me from the dead, and not just me, but the whole earth. He will bring Heaven to earth, and it will be perfect, just in the way that it was intended. God will walk with us as He walked with Adam and Eve in the Garden before the Fall, and all will be perfect. All because Christ first resurrected, He is now and will continue to resurrect us.  

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: I'm a living, breathing Hell, and it's up to Jesus to resurrect me.

Depression's Best Friends

It sucks when you have free tickets to a concert and no one has the time to go with you. It also sucks when you have plans with someone, and they forget about them and you're left hanging out to dry. It sucks even worse when these things reoccur within the same week more than three times and reoccur on the same day. They're instances that can leave you feeling unwanted, unsure and unhappy, and they're instances that can lead to three unique feelings:

Doubt. Loneliness. And depression.

These are the three words that I've been feeling lately in my spirit, and quite frankly, feeling heavily for the first time in my life. I've never struggled much with doubt, loneliness or depression, but lately, I've felt a lot more like Eeyore and a lot less like Tigger. 

Inside me, there's something that says struggling with doubt and loneliness aren't real issues. It's a voice that says, "You're not really feeling these things because only weak people struggle with these things." I listen to that voice a lot. I ignore the symptoms I'm truly feeling based on how I think I should be feeling. The symptoms of loneliness and doubt go hand in hand with the negative term needy, and the last thing anyone wants to feel is needy; however, loneliness and doubt are real feelings that can't be ignored, and so far I've found out that often times these two feelings lead to the deeper feeling of depression.

There's a truth behind all of humanity, and that truth is that we all want to feel wanted. We all want to feel valued, and we all want to feel purpose. When we're 'wanted' (not like an arrest warrant 'wanted'), we don't feel lonely, and we don't feel doubt about what we're doing in life. When people value our presence, we begin to feel purposeful in our work and accepted for who we are- two things that begin to erase both doubt and loneliness. 

Another truth is that people have struggled with wanting to feel valued and accepted for thousands of years; I read about it today in a book that was written thousands of years ago when people from Israel wanted so desperately to feel valued by someone that they were demanding to have a king so they would have someone to reign over them and give them purpose. They wanted to feel valuable, and they wanted to feel wanted.

You and I are the same way still today. We want to be wanted and wanted so much so that we'll chase after anything and everything to 'reign' over us. We look for value in friendships, relationships, jobs, money and so much more. We all struggle with doubt, loneliness and depression at times, and when we try to ignore those feelings and listen to the voice that says we're 'needy', we find ourselves trying to combat those feelings with anything that will let us feel meaning. So far, everything I've tried has let me down; people, money and work all have. But there's one thing that hasn't- it's the hope I have in knowing that there's eternity after this sometimes doubtful, lonely and depressing life. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Even though you may feel lonely in feeling lonely, doubtful and depressed, you're not alone in it. 

Reflections: Made Too Pretty

The other day, I was standing in front of the mirror looking at my reflection. I wasn't really doing anything; I was just standing, looking at myself and admiring my new haircut and all the ways I could wear it differently. I must have stood there for ten or fifteen minutes before I'd realized it'd been ten or fifteen minutes, and I stopped (not because I wanted too, but because I felt like a girl). Then, the question crossed my mind that I've been asked before but haven't ever answered:

Were we made too pretty?

Sometimes, it sure does seem like it. 

How many times I day do I look at myself in the mirror? Whether it's to fix my hair, check to see if I have something in my teeth or look and see if I have any new pimples, I frequent the mirror more than a 20-something-year-old frequents their Facebook page while driving, which is a lot. I even admit to making sure I get a side glance at myself if I pass by a large window so I can catch my reflection in it to make sure I'm looking from head to toe while I'm walking- and to know what I look like to the other people around me. Honestly, it's pretty vain. 

The question, "Were we made too pretty?" is actually a question I heard from a song called, 'Made too Pretty" (makes sense for the title, right?). It's a song that doesn't question the belief that we were made in God's image, and it doesn't state that beauty God bestowed on and in His creation is wrong; it's a song that questions the idea of humans turing themselves into gods, and I think that's a good question to ask.

So often, as the song says, "we're caught up in a stare we cannot break," or at least I am anyway. We spend so much time in front of mirrors fixing ourselves and staring at ourselves and spend so much time taking selfies and staring at pictures that ourselves that I believe our vain-ness can sometimes become and idol and a god. We stare at our reflections and see what's on the surface- but how often do we stop and stare at what's below the surface?

If I took the time to self examine my soul as much as I take the time to self examine my surface, I think I'd be better off. If we all took the time to look at what's on the inside as much as what's on the outside, I think we would find that we really may have been made too pretty in such a way that our outside generally doesn't reflect the mess that we all are on the inside. 

We're all messy people, maybe not always on the outside, but always on the inside. There is always something our hearts are in need of help with, and we can't edit it out or put a filter over it to mask it. That's what grace is for. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Were you made too pretty?