(You) Encourage.

In third grade, my teacher explained that every phrase must have a subject and a verb to be a sentence. Dad ran. Chris ate. Mom said. I thought I broke her system when I found a sentence in one of my books that said "Do the dishes." It even had a period--no subject in sight. We eventually got to the Command Rule. I was intrigued by the invisible "You" that mysteriously sits on the front of every command.

In fifteenth grade, a friend expressed that he/she thought that work that I had done was worthwhile--even good. The modest compliment inspired me. This month (it is the first few hours of March now), I want those around me to feel more encouraged than if I weren't around them. If I were not a part of my friends' lives, would they be more encouraged and less the butt of jokes? In my absence, which way would that pendulum swing? How often do I settle for teasing over encouraging?

I'm still a little gunshy about inserting myself into books of the Bible that are actually letters written to other people. Regardless, I think I'll take Paul's exhortation to the Thessalonians as a personal extension of my third grade teacher's invisible "You."

He said "Therefore encourage one another and build each other up..."

"(You) Encourage one another."

How much better would our friends' lives be if we encouraged them?

Not about V-day.

Here we are, on the eve of the happysaddest day of the year. What am I going to write about? I told myself that I wouldn't write about Valentine's Day. My fingers are making me a liar. Its not really their fault, though.
Its probably your fault. If you like chick flicks, its your fault. If you read romantic novels (Christian or otherwise), its your fault. If you like romantic novels (Christian or otherwise), its your fault.
What is romance? What is emotion? Its my fault.

Does God really speak to us?

If yes, then how? Do you really believe that?

Where is my life going? Where should my life be going? Should that should really be there?

Is my life planned out? Do I really believe that?

Are my relationships really planned out?

Is it my responsibility to figure any of this out?

Can I really rest in God? Can I really trust?

What should I do? What can I do?

Should or Can?




Luke Helm at 4:51.

An Ode to Friendship.

Tonight--the third of January, 2006--friendships claimed their rightful place as the most joyful part of my life. Truthfully, I should reflect more often on the quality and significance of my friends. What greater gift has been given on this earth? Romantic love is in a category of its own; but what is romantic love if not the pairing of deep friendship and its physical expression?

Tonight, however, I give thanks for platonic friendships. The fine gentlemen with whom I shared this evening have been close since our sixteenth birthdays arrived with their promise of first-car freedom. High school served us with the formative years of our friendships. We waded through the endless bouts of high school drama, and we shared the savory taste of intramural glory. And we'll never forget our forays into petty vandalism. Since high school--heartbreaks, victories, changes--we've shared them all. In my understanding, our group is an anomaly. Very few of my college friends (and dear friends they are) share a similar treasure. Each semester ends; I pack up and head home. And home is a blessing--I am insatiably indebted to my ever-loving family--but how many of my college friends cant wait to see there high school buddies? So after enjoying my family's company, my mind turns to the reunion of "the boys."

As I have often said, there is no place I would rather be than at the lakehouse, with the boys, on the dock, smoking a cigar, (having a beer...helllooo 21)--talking about life, love, God, and the meaning of life. Sound cliche? Come sometime. Its not. There is no room for cliche. Either the dock is too small, or we are too tight.

Winding roads hide the lake and disconnect it from the outside world. Being in each other's company sheds any pressures or strains. All pretense is lost as we tell the same stories, and occasionally stumble into a new one. Its the comfort of these friends that yields real laughter--the kind from way down inside--the kind that shakes the dock and sends ripples out over the lake. What joy there is in friendship!