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.

Seeing Beyond the Color

Why is color often the first thing we see and say about something?

When it comes down to identifying something within a group, identifying it by its color color is just about the easiest way to pick an object out in a crowd of similar objects. Whether it's a car among cars, a flower among flowers or any other thing surrounded by things just like it, colors are what we see on the surface, so they're what makes it easy to identify things. 

We do this every day:

"Hey! Look at that red car."

"Cut the green wire; not the yellow one, but the green one." (It's always the green one)

"Did you see that orange shirt that guy had on?"

And we don't think anything about it. We identify things by their colors all the time, but what about people? How do we identify them?

The other day, a group of guys were passing my friend and I at a restaurant, and my friend turned to me and mentioned that, "the guy in the blue shirt looked really familiar to him." After he said this, I turned around to look at the guys that had just walked past me at who it might be, trying to find a blue shirt in the throng of people. It took me a cool minute to pick him out, but when I did, I noticed that the guy my friend had mentioned was African-American, and also the only African-American in the building.

I didn't think much about it at the time, but after looking back on it later, it seems like it would've been a lot easier, and much more my own personal instinct, to have identified the guy as, "the black guy." After all, he was the only African-American in the building; that would've made it much quicker and easier on my eyes to sort through than trying to pick out a shirt color. If I had been my friend in that situation, I would've turned to me and said, "that black guy looks really familiar," rather than saying, "the guy in the blue shirt looks familiar." It's a simple instance with little to no real implication to a broad scope of people, yet it did reveal something about myself that I didn't really like; I'm quick to see race and slow to see equality.

Afterward, I talked to my friend about the situation, and he told me about how he's been trying to be more hyperaware of how he identifies others, not as their color, like he would a 'thing.' I thought this was a great point. It gets down to who a person is and not just what's on the surface. A guy or girl may be white or black, but we all wear clothes. A guy or girl may look a certain way or be a certain way, but we have commonalities as humans and as people. There's more to than what just meets the eye, and if we can start identifying others in a way that is being hyperaware of knowing a person is more than just the color of their skin or how they're different than we are, then I think that would be a great start. We may find out we're more similar than we are different.

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: The irony of color is that there is more behind color than what meets the eye.

Snooze Button Side Effects

It's really funny to me that the first decision that most people consciously make each and every day is to sleep more.

Our alarms go off, and then the first thing we actually make a choice to do is to hit the snooze button and start our days out with just a 'few more minutes' of sleep. Sleep rules at 6 a.m., and everything else seems to fall into place behind it.

We choose sleep over a morning workout, sleep over a healthy breakfast and sleep over spending some time reading or doing whatever else chills us out and prepares us for the day at hand. The point is, our sense of priority and time are misconstrued and blinded by something so simple as sleep. We don't think normally, and, in reality after we've overcome the snoozing 6 a.m. thinking process, we kick ourselves after we realize that 20 minutes of extra sleep wasn't really worth the sacrifice of getting a solid, 30 minute workout done before the day began. When we're blinded by time and not thinking logically, we lose our sense of priority, and we become inward focused. We fall victim to time selfishness.

Hitting the snooze button is an easy example of how we can personally lose our sense of priority based on how we're spending our time, but what about the harder examples that face someone day in and day out during every day life? What about when a stranger's car is broken down on the side of the road, and it looks like they could use a hand? What about when a man stops you on the street and asks for some help buying some food? It's in these situations that our sense of priority can become warped by our sense of time. 

The other day, as I was walking into work downtown in Tulsa, a man on the street kept yelling at me for something (I don't know what because I didn't stick around long enough to ask). He must've followed me 10-20 yards, all the way until I got inside the building, just yelling, "Sir! Sir!" I don't know if he needed money, directions or just had a question about the building, but what I do know was that I was running late to work, and I had a meeting to be at in five minutes. Looking back now, even to just acknowledge the man would've taken me maybe 30 seconds, but in the moment when I felt rushed, my sense of time clouded my sense of priority, and I sacrificed a person's real needs for my personal clock.

When I'm thinking in a normal state, I'd like to believe that I highly value a person's needs over my own; however, when my priorities get mixed up because of time selfishness, I sacrifice what's really important in life- mainly other's needs. In the moment, it's easy to hit the snooze button and skip out on making a good breakfast, just as it's easy to ignore a guy who may just be asking for directions; however, maybe if we hadn't hit the snooze button in the first place, we'd have both time for a good breakfast and time to acknowledge someone else's needs. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: The snooze button is the root of all evil.

UnFabulous Fantasies

"The grass isn't always greener on the other side."

You've probably heard that a time or two in life from a parent, grandparent or mentor when you may or may not have been complaining about some situation you were in. It's about how sometimes we romanticize things and then once we have them or experience them, said experience or thing isn't quite what we made it up to be in our minds.

With that, here's a guest post from my friend, CeCe on her experiences from that grass not always being greener on the other side, but more so greener where you water it. Thanks, Ce.

I’ve read a lot of romance novels in my life, at least 200.  They’re quick, easy reads.  Because they’re typically so predictable, they leave you feeling rewarded. If I’ve learned anything from all of this reading, it’s that the material is totally unrealistic.  Romance novels over-romanticize life. Shocking, I know.

In romance novels, there has to be drama or some sort of angst for a relationship to really blossom. The characters have to overcome an obstacle to finally find happiness. Totally not real life, some relationships are happy from the get go. I would actually prefer it that way, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering “what if…”

And that’s what causes trouble.

Romance novels beg us to ask the question, “what if?” What if I hadn’t settled down with him?  What if I’d decided to travel the world instead of staying in my hometown? “What if” are two of the most poisonous words imaginable. If left unchecked, they have the possibility to leave hurt, heartache, and regret in their wake. The always-curious part of our being is always searching for something more. Something that will provide us with more happiness than we already have.

I cannot totally discredit this curious mindset; it often keeps people safe and actually leads them to real happiness when their life has none. But for some, it’s a trickster.

I recently moved about 600 miles away from everything I know and love. I left my family, my friends, my job, and my home. Upon moving, I was ecstatic and couldn’t tell enough people that I was getting out. I was adventuring. I was living the life I wanted. After the first month of living in my new city, I was miserable. I couldn’t find a job. I missed my family and friends. My almost nightly cry sessions strained my relationship with the one person I had in this giant city, the person I followed here in the first place.

My homesickness and general-miserableness fueled itself. It was a never-ending cycle. I convinced myself that if I had stayed in my hometown I would have been happy. My family and friends would have been close, I could have easily found a job (even if I hated it), and my significant other could have moved on without me. Maybe we weren’t meant to be together. I constructed this future for myself where I would have been happy and comfortable. Sure, I would probably watch my boyfriend following his dreams from afar while I gave up mine, but that would have been okay because I was safe at home.

This delusion grew over the first three months after my move. The more it grew, the more toxic it became. My relationship was unraveling faster by the day. One night, after another breakdown, he asked me to move back home. He could see how miserable I was and knew I would be happier home. My heart broke and although I knew I should be happy he understood, a large part of me knew he was wrong. I booked a flight home for the weekend in hopes of healing some homesickness.

In the three days I spent home, I realized how convoluted my delusion had been. I was too big of a fish for the too-small bowl that is my hometown. I would have suffocated and become a different person. Someone I dreaded being my entire life. After several conversations with my mom, I knew I was in the right place doing the right thing. My problem was that I turned “what if” into a mantra and blinded myself to the world and opportunities around me.

My trip home was a week ago, I don’t feel as homesick anymore and the delusion of a perfect and happy life back home still lives in my mind. I’ve labeled it a fantasy and prohibit my mind from wandering there for too long. If you find yourself treading into a similar patch of sinking sand, grab a loved one for stability. Someone to help you see what’s best for you and pull you out of the sand. Then run as far away from the patch as you can.

-CeCe

CeCe's Note: Fantasies aren't always fabulous. 

Going for (Goal)d

Originally, the plan was to be a swimmer at the collegiate level, hone my talent in the pool and eventually work my way into the Olympic trials in Omaha, Neb., by the time I was out of college. If I got lucky, I'd qualify and make it to the Olympics and maybe even when a medal or two (or 8).

Obviously, that plan didn't work, and that goal was never achieved (far from it), so while the USA swim team is in Rio this week competing, I'm in Tulsa, Okla. doing things and stuff. 

It's during the Olympic season that I'm reminded of my former plans and former goals, and also during this season when I get to see some of the other kids who had the same former plans and goals as me achieve their goals and watch their wildest dreams come true. It's not a bitter feeling; on the contrary, it's actually a really special experience getting to watch a person who had the same dreams as you have their dreams come true. You see triumph and failure and tears of joy and tears of sadness. It's during the Olympics that you see passion, commitment and hard work turn into real results for real people who once set real goals, just like we all do. The especially beautiful thing about all of this is getting to watch athletes live the narrative they've written to their stories.

Personally, the goals I set to become an Olympian had no narrative to them. I didn't train like an Olympian, eat like an Olympian or really even have the dedication or experience that an Olympian has. I had a broad goal, but there was nothing supporting it or really feeding into it to make it achievable, unlike true Olympic athletes who really want that goal and are willing to really make sacrifices and over come conflict to see those goals achieved. 

At the heart of achieving goals for any person is turning goals into stories that we can and want to live out. A swimmer probably doesn't set a goal of being a better swimmer, just as a writer probably doesn't set a goal of writing more; In each example, he or she probably sets a goal of setting a new personal record by the end of a season or becoming a published author within two years. When it comes down to making and achieving goals, we have to make them more about living a story rather than just setting a "goal."

As story is lived, goals are achieved. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Want. Overcome. Live. Achieve.  

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.  

When Wedding Bells Sound Like Hell's Bells (Even to a Bride to Be)

A couple of months ago, I wrote a post about what it feels like to me as a mid-twenty-year-old male watching a high majority of my friends get married. This post is a guest post written by a good friend of mine, CeCe, not only in response to that post, but more so as a reflection to that post from a mid-twenty-year-old female's perspective. As she told me, "Everyone's feeling it, but nobody's talking about it." 

So here's someone talking about it. Thanks, CeCe.

I am a twenty-something female, and my body is split in two. I’m at a point in life
where my heart wants to get married, but my head’s not there. After I was asked to
pick out some engagement ring options, my heart somersaulted and I scoured the
Internet for hours looking for a ring that embodied my spirit and personality.
Apparently my spirit and personality are pretty broad because every shiny and
sparkly thing caught my attention.

While my eyes and heart were copying and pasting links and pictures into a
document, my head was sprinting to catch up. My relationship isn’t new and I don’t
question my future with my significant other, but I still feel so young and so
unprepared. Yes, I’m technically an adult but I still feel like I’m an undergrad. I
mean, I still get nightmares about missing a final. It seemed like my social media
went from twenty-first birthday posts to engagements overnight. Nearly every day
on Facebook or Instagram someone is getting engaged. And I used to feel serious
pangs of jealousy at newly engaged couples that had been together for a shorter
amount of time than my boyfriend and I had. It didn’t seem fair. We were in love,
why couldn’t I be the one flashing my new ring?

It wasn’t until my best friend got engaged that I realized how juvenile I was being.
Sadly, leading up to her engagement I told myself I was allowed to be upset but then
I had to pretend to be happy for her. After receiving a text from her saying she was
engaged, I didn’t feel upset or jealous or any of the negative things I thought I would.
I was too happy, because she was happy. She was in a place in her life where it made
sense for her to be engaged. I wasn’t. Looking back, I feel horrible for being jealous
of something that hadn’t even happened yet. I measured the success of a
relationship with diamond rings and surprise proposals. If you take away the ring,
you still have a couple who love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives
together, and that’s what I have now.

Being patient in this matter is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Watching
friends plan weddings and have showers fills my heart with longing but my
somewhat sensible head always catches up and reminds me that I am happy just
where I am and to enjoy being in love and being loved. There’s a peer pressure that
new adults face and it’s sticky and smothering and hard to escape. Surrendering to
this pressure left me feeling impatient when I could have been feeling joy. Until my
day comes, I will continue praying for a patient heart and an understanding mind
because nothing good comes from a disconnected nervous system.

-CeCe

CeCe's Note: If you take away the ring, are you still a couple who loves each other and wants to spend the rest of your lives together?

*More to come from CeCe in the future. Interested in writing? Get in touch*

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. 

Bypassing Freedom for Fireworks

I've never really understood Independence Day.

 For as long as I can remember, Independence Day aka, July 4th, has always just been a day in the hottest part of the summer where people go to the lake, cook hot dogs, eat s'mores and make explosions in the sky. It's been a holiday, like most other holidays, that I look forward to because of the parties, the plans and the people more so than I do actually looking at the reason that there's a day to celebrate to begin with. In fact, the way I usually celebrate July 4th simply consists of determining where I want to go celebrate it, what red, white and blue color scheme I want to where and whether or not its legal to shoot off fireworks at the location I'll be at on said day of celebration. Very rarely have I ever and do I ever take the time to think about Independence day really is or what it means.

Growing up, I spent nearly every July 4th the same way: a group of friends and I would make our way out to a country fireworks stand, spend a couple hundred dollars of our own money on what we thought would make for an amazing fireworks show, and then we would all drive out to the family farm and proceed to blow things up for 5 or 6 hours late into the night, always testing the limits of who could hold a firecracker in their hand the longest before throwing it at someone and making it explode right behind them while we stuffed our faces with hot dogs, coke and s'mores. One of my friends even stuffed firecrackers into the exhaust pipe of one of our trucks and lit them on fire, which looking back now seems just as crazy as it did then. Anyway, my independence days have never really consisted of much reflection or thankfulness, but have mostly consisted of fireworks, friends and food. 

As a 24-year-old millennial, I speak for myself, not my whole generation, when I say that I really feel like I miss out on what the meaning of Independence Day really is. It seems like July 4th is just another day to throw a party, and I often blow past the freedom for the fireworks. Do I think it's wrong to celebrate the freedom we have? No way. Not at all. Do I think that the celebrations we get to have and get to experience as families, friends and a nation are 'overshadowing what we should really be focusing on?' No. That's not it either. These celebrations and this holiday are only happening because of the freedom we have in America, and this is one of the few days out of the year that our country seems to be more united than divided by politics. July 4th is a special day, but I just hope I can learn to realize that it's a special day more so because of the freedom we have more so than just the perks to freedom. 

The freedom in American comes at a big cost. Thousands and thousands of people have lost their lives over hundreds of years to ensure that we can grill hotdogs in our backyards with families and friends. We've had some amazing leaders that have had to make some difficult decisions to guarantee that our nation can still gather one day a year together in unity to watch explosions in the sky as we celebrate the lives of those who defend the place we call home. 

Freedom, much like love, is easy to celebrate, but is hard to gain and even harder to understand the depths of. As a nation, we are grateful for it, but hopefully more so than that, we can begin to understand it so we can be all the more grateful. Don't bypass the freedom for the fireworks, but realize it's because of that freedom that we get to do what we do (unless you live in the city limits).

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Don't bypass freedom just for the fireworks. 

A Lesson From Ticks

A few weeks ago, some friends and I went for a hike through the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve in Pawhuska, Okla. The hike was only a mile and a half, if that, so it wasn't anything too extreme; it was more of just a leisurely morning trot with friends to catch the sunrise and get some photos; however, it's because of this leisurely mindset that I experienced one of the grossest things of my life.

*Reader discretion is advised*

With Oklahoma summers come Oklahoma ticks and mosquitos. With ticks and mosquitos come bug bits, itches and in the extreme cases, weird diseases. In my case on this summer hike, I got the ticks, literally dozens of them. Now, because we went out for a 'leisurely' hike in the morning and because I'm not a mom, I didn't think to bring any sort of bug spray. It's just not in my 24-year-old nature to think of bringing along bug spray first and for most. My priorities tend to be more along the lines of 'will there be food, and if not, I need to bring some.' Anyway, long story long, I didn't get bug spray, so I got ticks. 

Now, after the hike, my friends and I must have pulled off 20+ tickets among all of us, and after I got home and checked myself over in the privacy of closed doors, I even pulled a few more off me. After that inspection and a shower, I felt I was tick free and good to go . . . fast forward two weeks later:

I'd noticed that one of the places on my leg that I'd pulled a tick off of was still really red and really swollen and was only getting worse day by day. I was on beach trip with a couple of medical students when this flair up started happening, so I asked them about it. They said it definitely wasn't lime disease (blessings) and that I was probably just semi allergic to the tick bites and that the swelling would go down soon. They were right. Day by day after that, the swelling started to go down and the redness went away. 

It was a few days after I'd gotten this good news from the med students that I woke up one morning, looked down at my leg and noticed the bite was completely healed except for a small scab that was left behind from what I assumed was my scratching. Like any normal human that likes picking scabs, I wanted the bite to be completely healed looking, so I picked the scab . . . and then it crawled away.

It wasn't a scab. It was a tick, and that little guy had been living in my leg for TWO WEEKS. 

This was one of the most disgusting things to think about that had ever happened to me, and I was completely unaware of it. I was oblivious to the little stranger who lived with me for fourteen days; he probably could've stayed longer if he wanted, but I guess like all vacations, it got old, so he went home.

The lesson I learned from this long (disgusting) experience is pretty short and simple: We're not always aware of those around us who are really depending on us. 

Like this tick was depending on me for food and shelter without me even realizing it, how many other people (or insects?) are depending on me for things that I'm completely unaware of? It's simple to get into the rhythm of life and not notice all that we're doing that others rely on. Maybe it's writing the checks to pay the bills or simply planning out a week's worth of meal prep. The truth is, the people closest to us are depending on us, and we're depending on them with so many things just to make life seem normal. It's not until those dependencies get taken away that we usually realize just how depending we really are and how much others are depending on us. In reality, we're all at least a little dependent, and because of that, we should all be at least a little thankful. Depend on others, just as they depend on you.

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Don't forget the bug spray. 

The Small Town Slow Down

It's 3:19 a.m., and it's 85 degrees outside with a humidity of 55 percent. Oklahoma heat is no joke- especially this time of the year.

I'm laying in my bed on top of the sheets in my old childhood bedroom because I'm visiting home for the weekend to celebrate Father's Day with my parents. Since I moved out and left this bedroom six years ago, not much has changed. The walls are a little bearer, and some of the furniture has changed, but other than that, my parents have insisted that "my room will always be my room," and they've done their best to keep it that way. Since last time I was here though, mom (now sporting Chacos) has put in a new clock on the wall above my bed. It's not a digital clock, but instead it's one of those clocks that you can hear tick with every passing second.

I think that's why I'm awake- I'm currently physically aware of every passing second and aware of just how slowly those seconds seem to be passing.

I'm not sure if it's the clock, or if it's the knowledge of not being able to sleep that's making me aware of just how slowly the seconds are passing. I've never really been aware of it before, but right now, I'm completely tuned in to every ticking sound of time and it's trickling speed.

It's a cliche that big cities are where life speeds up and that small towns are where life slows down. Duncan, the town my parents house is in with my old bedroom and new clock, is a small town, and life and time really do seem to slow down here. The cars drive slower, the people speak slower and life moves slower. Things like being in a hurry seem to be non-existent, and you can always hear a clock ticking.

I like this slown down lifestyle though- maybe not permanently, but definitely in doses. I always learn something from it. I learn how doing things fast doesn't always mean they get done right and how doing things slow allows time for other, more important things. I learn patience and kindness from the people, and I learn that just cause a place is a small town, it doesn't mean that it doesn't contain people with big capabilities and big dreams.

Small towns may have a slower pace of life, and time may seem to stand still there at times, but they sure are places that can reset a fast-paced life style. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Cities do to your heart what a double shot of coffee does, but a small town will sink you like a smooth, slow drink of whiskey. 

'Brand' New

Waking up early in the morning is hard- not to mention waking up at all; however, there's something special about waking up early in the morning- You get to experience the freshness that comes with a new day. The birds are going crazy singing their songs, there's loads of fresh scents in the breeze, and there's always this crisp, new feeling in the air that disappears as mid-day draws closer. There's just something about waking up and experiencing the first fruits of the newness of a new day that's all the reward for forfeiting a couple extra hours of sleep. 

With that, here's to welcoming in a fresh, new start to a new year of 'Cliff Notes.' After a month of rebranding, redesigning and revamping the blog with a new look and new mission, I'm excited to be getting back to writing and inspiring others to write, as well. I'm hoping the new look, feel and direction brings in the same feelings that a new day brings in. I'm hoping readers can experience the grace, freshness and uniqueness that each new day brings within each new post, and I'm hoping 'Cliff Notes' can start to spark more storytelling, more creativity and more community.

Take a look around, enjoy and look for something new each week.

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Starting fresh feels great. It's after the freshness is gone that the real work begins.

Owning Your Awkwardness

This just in: Awkwardness isn't just for middle schoolers anymore. 

Last night, I watched a 145 ibs, rail of a full-grown, white male dance around someone's living room to a cover of Elton John's 'Tiny Dancer' in a completely serious manner. As he pranced around, the lights sent flares of glare off his glasses, and his tucked in shirt slowly began to untuck itself from all of the unexpected movement. After the song was over, he stopped dancing, tucked his shirt back into his pants, adjusted his glasses and returned to his seat like nothing at all had even happened. 

There's a word that society likes to use to describe the situation and the individual above. It's a word that many of us are terrified to be labeled under and a word that many of us fear, but I think we all know what word it is I'm talking about: The word 'awkward.'  

For many of us, myself included, we would be terrified to be the individual losing their mind to 'Tiny Dancer' in a room full of people we don't know, unless of course, we had been prompted by too many alcoholic beverages (in that case, bring on the awkward). But for most people, being sober and being awkward at the same time are deep social fears. I know for me personally, if I'm ever labeled as being awkward, or ever worse socially awkward, I rethink my every move from the interaction and make sure to do whatever it is I just did again. However, what if being awkward shouldn't be something that we fear, but instead was something we owned. 

The truth is, my best friend is awkward (Shoutout to you, Bryce Rowland).

My best friend is awkward, and I mean it as a total compliment when I say it. I don't know if he's ever known that, but anytime I call him awkward, I'm complimenting him. He has a personality that breaks down social barriers, allows him to be friends with anyone and be friends fast and a true personality of himself that he's not afraid to put on display for others to see. He runs the risk of potentially being awkward so others don't have to feel so awkward, and I love the guy for it. He embraces himself and owns his awkwardness; he doesn't avoid it or fear it, and I consider it a part of who he is. It's awesome to watch and a really cool picture of grace, in a weird, awkward sort of way.

Awkwardness is a little of something we all have in us to some extent. Technically, the definition of awkward is 'causing difficulty, embarrassment or being ungraceful, also being abnormal,' and really, it's impossible for any human to lack those traits in some areas of life. Whether it's socially, athletically, musically or personally, we all have something in our lives that is difficult, causes embarrassment and that we aren't the 'graceful' at, making it not look normal when we participate in that activity. Personally, mine is social awkwardness; I'm extremely unnatural at meeting new people, so when I have to, I clam up and get awkward; however, I don't think this is something I'm supposed to fear anymore. I think it's something I'm supposed to own.

Whether you're the guy dancing to 'Tiny Dancer' in a room full of people you don't know, the person who hates meeting new people for fear of what others will think of you or even the person who hates participating in athletic activities because of lack of experience, own that awkwardness that is bound to come out. Embrace who you are and don't be scared of looking unnatural because there's no doubt that the people you're around are unnatural and awkward in their own ways too; they're just not owning it like you are. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Make awkward the new awesome.

When Mother Nature Plays 'Daddy'

I'm currently sitting in a hallway, alone, under blankets and pillows and listening to tornado sirens, and to me, it sounds like those sirens are saying, "Who's your daddy, Austin?" And I'm thinking, "Mother nature."

It's moments like this when I'm reminded of just how human and vulnerable I really am. At any moments notice, a burst of strong wind or a tornado could rip through the entire house I rent and take me out like a slight breeze takes out a loose blade of grass- here one moment, gone the next. 

Nature has a way of making us feel super vulnerable when were exposed to it- especially if we're not used to it. Weather it's a looming tornado (yes, that was a pun on whether) or a mysterious noise outside of a tent while camping, there's just something about being exposed to something greater than yourself while it has the potential to take the life out of your lungs. I'm not sure what it is about something other than a human being able to take your life from you that makes you feel super human, but it's true. When nature shows its wild side and displays its full force, it's humbling and honestly, kinda terrifying.  

Think about it though. When is the last time you were humbled by the power or the creation that you live in? Was it while you were hiding under a fort of blankets and pillows while nature ran its course giving you no say in the matter? Or was it when you walking in the woods late at night with darkness so thick around you that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face even if you only held it inches away from your nose? It could've been any number of times, but there's no doubt, we all feel fearful of creation at some time or another. It's a funny thing being a created being that technically, is created to help cultivate creation, yes also a being that has no control over that creation. What a concept. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: If you live in Oklahoma, get a storm shelter.  

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.

Blind to Blessings

Have you ever met someone who had worse luck than the kid you grew up with who's mom made him tuck his shirt into his gym shorts every day for school? I have, and man has he had a rough couple of months. Among other things, he's been a victim of a hit and run, had his car damaged by the people who fixed it after the hit and run, had his dog run away and had his couch torn to shreds by his other dog- all in the span of just a couple of months. It's as if life just isn't going well for him lately, and I honestly feel really bad for the guy; however, his perspective on the whole thing has really changed my heart toward this kind of bad luck.

As someone who recently hasn't had the best of luck himself, I've gotten to watch this guy go from one rough circumstance to another with about as positive as an attitude as one can have when stuff goes as wrong as it has for him. Heck, even just today he displayed a great deal of patience as he was running late to meet me for coffee because He almost ran out of gas on the way there. After he finally got to the coffee shop, he walked by me, set his books down gently, smiled at me and said, 'I'm good. I promise.' And somehow, the genuine look and patience on his face made me believe him, while I know that if I had been in the same situation, I would've been anxious, overwhelmed and probably kind of angry.

As we got to talking about his morning thus far, as well as all the other instances of 'bad luck' we'd both been having lately, we both took some time to reflect on what had been going on in our lives. After we'd finished up, he said something really interesting to me after I'd asked him what he was thinking about. In a short, simple way, he just said, "Sometimes, I think we're just blind to our blessings."

I don't think he could've been more right.

It's easy to, in the middle of 'bad luck,' look at all the negatives in life and miss all the positives. It's easy to look past all the normal, 'good things' in life that we so often look past as blessings because their normal and even easier to see the rare occasions of bad luck as hell on earth. We react terrible when something throws a hiccup in our day to day routine, yet we're quick to forget to give thanks for all the things that go right.

In the midst of 'bad luck,' look at the good luck that the day has brought. Don't be blind to your blessings, but be thankful you're free to live, free to breathe and have free access to lay beneath trees that provide shade on those beautiful, sunny days.

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Don't be blind to your blessings. 

When Wedding Bells Sound Like Hell's Bells

There's this 'special' thing that tends to happen when you enter your mid to late twenties: ALL your friends start to get married.

Not only do all your friends start to get married in your mid to late twenties, but they also seem to all start to get married at the same time. First, it's just one friend is engaged, and you have a wedding in July, and then, the next thing you know, all your friends are engaged and you have a wedding every other weekend from April until September. Wedding bells are nice, but sometimes when they ring too much, they can begin to sound like Hell's Bells.

If there were a world record for number of weddings attended in one day, I think I could've at least tied it this past weekend. Within a span of 10 hours, I attended three (count em') THREE weddings in three different cities. I don't know what it was about the day of April 16 this year, but apparently, if you didn't get married on that day, you didn't do your wedding right. 

Each wedding I went to was great, and each one was beautiful and creative in its own sense. I saw three great friends and family members tie the knot, and I couldn't be happier for the newly-wed couples I call my friends and what their relationships symbolize. I know it may sound like from above that I may be a wedding snob full of jealously that friends are getting married, but I'm not. I'm just battling for the first time another reality of adulthood that most all young adults battle at some point and that's the battle of watching other friends take another step forward toward adulthood that you haven't taken yet.

It's a weird battle and it's a weird feeling to watch friends that are the same age as you (or younger) get older and mature in ways that you can't yet know. I was never really one to believe that weddings were all that emotional for people other than the bride, groom and their families, but now I believe they are, and not just for the reasons you may first think. Yes, weddings are happy, joyful celebrations of two lives coming together as one, but they're also life events that mark significant change and progression in ones' lives. They show two individuals who are no longer clinging to their parents, but that are instead clinging to each other. The slideshows rolling by on the screens show the couples as they once were from days before they knew one another with photos of old friends and memories while those friends from those old memories stand and watch as their friends take the next step forward out of those old memories. 

It can be sobering, it can be nostalgic, and in some ways, it can even be painful. 

Weddings are amazing and beautiful experiences where memories are made and new journeys start for young couples, but when you're in your mid-twenties and everyone you know seems to be starting out on those new journeys except you, take heart. You're not alone, and there is plenty of time ahead for your own journey with that special someone to start. If you're young and wedding bells are starting to sound more like Hell's Bells, listen more closely. Listen to the joy of your friends and their families as they celebrate, listen to the laughter as you reflect on old stories you get to share with friends you haven't seen in five years and listen to the music as you dance your feet of at the wedding reception. Weddings are celebrations for couples, not funerals for singles. Listen close, and you'll begin to hear it. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Weddings are celebrations for couples, not funerals for singles.