verge 2010

Revolution is a bit of a scary word. It drums up images of battlefields, fatigue, bloodshed, and chaos. As you journey through your life it seems inevitable that at some point you will be challenged to revisit the things you have considered “right,” “the norm,” “the expected,” to revolutionize your thinking and honestly, your entire life.

It is for this reason that I like the world revolution. It does require radical movement, unforeseen steps of faith and a shifting of ideals. And I suppose it should be no surprise that God would ask for anything less. From it’s inception the history of Christianity has been rather revolutionary: requiring its followers to leave behind the pursuit of self-fulfillment and importance and follow instead after a God who offer true fulfillment, peace and so much with no strings attached.

But if you don’t stop and reassess, it’s easy to lose focus on the things you were fighting for to begin with. Enter the Church.

I grew up in church; I knew the stories and the songs. I could quote you the Bible, tell you what page Nehemiah started on and give you a quick rundown of the Minor Prophets. But I didn’t know God, not really. I didn’t have a relationship with Him and my life was anything but missional. I thought sharing Jesus was reciting a prepared script to my “heathen” classmate, or passing out an impeccably designed 1970’s four-fold tract that would somehow magically lead someone to faith. And I certainly hadn’t ever experienced the Holy Spirit beyond that nagging tug that coerced me into walking the aisle as a 6th grader instead of heading home to the cookies ‘n’ cream ice cream I knew awaited.

The last several months God has begun a major reworking, a revolution, in my thinking about His church and about what a relationship with Him is supposed to look like. And quite honestly, what He’s been teaching me has scared me. It means living a life of sacrifice, longing for suffering and being Jesus instead of cramming Him down people’s throats through my speeches. It’s about being intentional with everything I do. It’s about rethinking everything I know about Christianity and the Church.

This God-driven journey took a major turn this past weekend as I joined with a couple thousand leaders and revolutionaries at the Verge Conference here in Austin. Saturday afternoon I wrote the following to my family and close friends:

“I have just experienced the most amazing, real, breathtaking glimpse of the holy spirit at work I have ever even imagined possible. I honestly don’t know what to say. God is doing HUGE things in His Church and I pray that we can each be a part of the movement he is starting. Guys, this is real! This is true! This is worth fighting for, but it is going to be hard.

“Praise to Him for the suffering He has blessed us with. Glory to His name for the things He is beginning. Honor to His name for stirring a heart for what this whole Christianity and church thing us SUPPOSED to look like in me and in others. I PRAY that we can take these things and make them real!!

You see, the Church has lost its focus. We are fighting for a God who wants nothing of what we claim He desires. We are standing for a Father who longs for us to be real, to be sacrificial, and to be love, His love, to the world around us, by doing anything but these things. ¬

But amidst the screw-ups, the distortions of God and His mission we have created in the Church, a revolution is building. A group of leaders and future leaders is forming, who desire to return to the basics: to refocus on God, unleashing the power of the Holy Spirit, and showing Christ to the people in our lives who desperately want a cause, a Truth, to believe in. The hope is real and fresh and the future is bright, but it’s going to take us taking action.

So I say to you what I said to my family and friends Saturday: Be blown away by God and what He is doing in the Church and join me in praying we never recover. Lace up your boots and bring on the revolution!

an email from grace (my four year old niece)

As dictated to "Grandma" (my Mom) who is keeping Grace while my sister takes Lily to the doctor this morning:

"Dear Uncle Eric, I love you. Thank you for comin to our house. I wish you could come to my house and bring me a praying kitty cat... a wishing kitty. you know... with her hands folded like that. Come to my house soon sometime.

We made muffins. I maked them out of a spoon, we baked 'em in the oven. Grandma broked the thing.. she heated the pan thing up. It splattered ever'where... and she broke the drawer thing. Grandma's having a hard day. Sorry.

I want to pray you can gimme me a lot of things like a dog praying like this with his hands folded up.

I love you dear Uncle Eric. Thank you for bringin' me a wishin' candy dog. Love you. Thank you.
I love you dear uncle eric. love you. thank you. Praise the Lord, Uncle Eric!"

Oh my GOSH, I love this little one--and I love that she ends up with "PRAISE THE LORD!" How true, Grace. How often we skate through life not stopping to just say thanks and "praise you" for all you've done. Leave it to a four year old to boil life down to the essentials: muffins, praying dogs (and cats), loving family, and Praising the one who gave it all to us.

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theft

Stealing from the Church?
Does it get much worse than taking things
Things that were bought, and used for Christ
To tell His story and make Him known?

You took them so flippantly
Like a penny from the sidewalk
An extra swallow of Coke from the fountain
Or that second mint last week from Chili's

My heart screams
HOW DARE YOU?
HOW COULD YOU?
YOU'LL PAY!

Yet deep down I ask
Am I not really the same?

Don't I trade my purity for a moment of lust,
Steal time from my Savior
With a taste of the world?



Don't I steal, too?



I give less than I could
Less than I should.
All for that extra pair of jeans
Steak dinner or European tour.

Yes, I steal just as much,
Though the facade screams it's okay.
As I hoard back my treasures
Treasures bound for decay.

"Oh God," I cry.
Teach this thief where to let go
Where to spend time and dime
How it's about so much more.



- E, post discovery of our stolen wireless mics at church this morning


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mr. cody story

I recently wrote this for the Facebook Group "Children of Jack Cody." It seemed like something fun to post here:


It was the spring of 2000 and we were neck deep in The Trip to Bountiful, our entry for UIL One-Act Play contest. The four leads had received the script the summer before...the rest had been working since December. District Contest had come and gone and we were thrilled to have displaced Bowie High School's craptacular version of Persephone (amid much wailing from their cast, I might add, who were shocked that their Vegas-style spectacle was usurped). We were gearing up for area contest in Stephenville in a couple of weeks, and before heading to one of our evening rehearsals I stopped to get a haircut.

It was innocent enough; my hair was extremely long and needed a trim. I'd been doing it since I was three years old on a fairly regular basis. My coiffure recently updated, I parked my Dodge Ram on Cherry St., hopped out and started heading over to the backstage door at M. Aud. As luck would have it, Cody had just arrived and was getting out of his car at the same time. I knew he had seen me by the enormous gasp that spilled forth from his lips.

**large intake of breath** "ERIC!"

I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Yes, sir?"

He descended on me like a vulture on roadkill and to be honest I was fairly certain that I was momentarily going to join their ranks. He grabbed my head, grasping at the hair that was freshly sliced, dropped his voice and at the same time raised it and uttered the words that still pierce my soul today:

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?!!"

I was confused. What had I done? Was it the acne? Good grief, what do you expect when you slather tinted grease on your face on a semi-regular basis? Was it the parking job? I admit it, parallel parking isn't my greatest forte. I replied,

"UH, I don't know"

"YOUR HAIR! YOU'VE CUT YOUR HAIR"

Oh that, no worries I thought, it's just hair.

"ERIC. THIS IS A PERIOD SHOW, YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO HAVE LONG HAIR, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS!?"

How could I do it? What was I thinking? Had my brain been deprived of oxygen that morning? Had I temporarily lost my sanity? At least it resulted only in the death of my hair, and not a life. But I knew what I was thinking. I was thinking that if I had continued to let my hair grow it would have been too long. I knew it grew fast. I knew it would be ok, so stupidly I stood up for myself.

"Mr. Cody, it will grow. My hair grows fast. It will be fine."

"Uhoohhh (you know that little exasperated wail he makes) It better be. You are NOT allowed to cut ANYTHING again without permission."

"Okay. Okay." I managed to croak out, "sorry."

And with that, he grabbed his bag and headed inside leaving me standing on the sidewalk feeling like a complete and total jackass idiot who was working incredibly hard to completely undermine the entire show.

Thankfully my hair did grow, and thankfully we advanced past Area, past Region, and onto the State competition, where my hair, in all it's lengthy glory, made an award winning appearance. It was a good thing we made it there, because if not, I'm sure my haircut would have been blamed.

And I didn't cut my hair for several months after it was all over. I was too scared.

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apartment life

I was on the toilet when they came trying to bang my door down earlier. Good thing I was already on the toilet. Then I get this frantic call from the woman in the office who checked her compassion and personality at customs when she moved from wherever it is she moved from and tells me that I need to let them in. "Um, ok, I was in the bathroom when they came, I couldn't get to the door" (no answer) "Ok, I'll go let them in." (pregnant pause, then...) "We need a copy of your driver's license." "Excuse me?" "Your license, we need a copy for our files."

Oh, ok, for some reason I thought there was concern about caving-in ceilings, locked doors, maintenance men, etc. No? All right, I'm leaving those guys standing out there then...

GEEZ!

And of course, I stayed up late working last night in lieu of laundry so there is clothing, clean and dirty, strewn all over my apartment. Oh well, I suppose I'll embrace the stereotypical bachelor lifestyle and give the caring office staff a topic of conversation...

Working from home now, fearful to use the bathroom again.

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the tiddy bear

Oh my gosh....HAHAHAHAHA!!!



Wow. Hope this helps make your day a little bit brighter!

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good ol' aggieland

What a great reminder. I was lucky to spend my college years at A&M. Soak it up, kids, life after college ain't exactly a bowl of cherries!


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square one

As much as I wish this post was about everyone's favorite mathematical mystery PBS show of our childhood, it's not (Seriously, though, I'm fairly certain that show was the lone shining moment of positivity involving math in my life--"MathMan, MathMan"). Instead it's back to the employment line for yours truly. I'd interviewed at a private school to teach theater. It seemed like a really unique opportunity, but I was a bit uncertain if it was right for me. Ultimately my prayer was that God would close the door if I wasn't supposed to do it, because I was thinking that I would give it a whirl.

It's funny how He answers a request like that.

As much as I was sincere in and meant that prayer deep down I think I just wanted it to work out so that I'd be done with the whole job search thing. I was also looking at a creative programming position with Children's Ministry at a church in Plano that fell through this afternoon.

As much as I'd like to say I'm totally ok with it, and that I'm trusting the God who is in control, who has a bigger and better plan for my life, I have to say that it was really hard to hear the now all too familiar "We ultimately decided to hire someone else" speech again.

Two years of ups and downs (seemingly all too often more downs than ups) never having a consistent job, finding a job or a business opportunity that seems perfect only to have it crash and burn a few short weeks later, extreme loneliness, borderline (if not full blown) depression, and quite honestly the embarassment you feel as a college graduate who can't seem to get his crap together is officially old.

Do I believe that God's got a reason for all of this? Absolutely. Do I
think that he has a job somewhere for me? You bet. Do I think that I'm being prepared for something, hopefully something that defies belief? I do.


So why the delay?

That's the one thing I don't understand.

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Um...

Wow.

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my work is finally published

The first phase of video work I did for the United Methodist Church Global Justices Volunteers program is finally online. Check it out!

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ever wonder

Ever wonder how it feels to gift without gifting,
To serve without serving,
To lead without leading?

Ever wonder how it feels to be denied without denial,
To be noticed without notice,
To be ignored with acknowledgment?

Ever wonder how it feels?

Ever wonder what it's like to be torn without tearing,
To be stretched without stretching,
To breathe without breath?

Ever wonder what it's like to be fired without firing,
To be laid off without laying,
To die with living?

Ever wonder what it's like?

I know.



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the downfall of a legend

I ran to Jason's Deli on Sunday after church to grab lunch before going back to work and to set up for Sunday night. (okay I actually drove, but who's counting) And the oddest thing happened as I stood people watching, waiting for my food. A group of six 60-somethings were sat around a table, just finishing their lunch when an employee walked by. One of the gentlemen stopped him and asked him to take a picture of their group. I mean, it's Jason's Deli...is it really that exciting? I'm reminded of the time I was at Freebirds with Camp Shaha back in the day and we were nearly lynched for taking a picture inside the "copyrighted" restaurant. Come on, people, don't flatter yourself so much!

Anyway, back to the story at hand. Despite the mundane nature of Jason's to the general populace, to these people is was an occasion worth documenting. So the man brought out his disposable camera and passed it along to the waiter. And suddenly, without warning, and involuntarily, I found myself thinking, "how quaint." Not because these people were taking a picture, but because it was being taken on a disposable camera, a feat necessitating a second shot "just in case." The familiar clicking of winding the film to the next frame echoed through my mind as I contemplated what I was seeing.

I was semi-horrified at my reaction. How is it that a technology that about ten years ago was at its height, with all of us high school students toting around a backpack full of disposable cameras ready to capture those memories worth saving for posterity. I mean, it's only been three or four years ago that the sale of digital cameras outnumbered the sale of film models. Yet, it's true. Technology has come so far, so fast, and has grown to a level of affordability that makes it accessible to so many, that we've actually come to a place that a disposable 35mm camera is "quaint." And while I would suspect that film cameras will still be around for years to come, it makes you stop and wonder if that's even the case. There are die-hard purists that are undoubtedly cursing my name at even the thought, but it's a thought worth entertaining.

Like every technology that has come into place in my lifetime, I stop and marvel (sometimes in fear) at what we have at our fingertips. It's made me into a semi-professional photographer, a hobby--turned side business that I might have found and explored without the advances, but certainly not as easily or quickly (or cheaply). Sure, the camera is a large outlay of cash, but think of the money saved on film and processing of unwanted photos.

So where do we go from here? There are already disposable digital cameras. Digital slr prices continue to plummet. But one thing remains the same, because even with all the technological advances in photography, there are just as many inferior digital pictures as there were 35mm shots. The only real difference, then, is a disappearance of the "delayed" and an introduction of the "instant" crap.

Because, you see, all the technology in the world still can't replace an artistic eye, creativity, talent, and excellence.

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Possessed Elmo?

WHOA! Check it out

Hmmm...something tells me this isn't a coincidence. I mean the word has to have been recorded to be able to say it. One more reason battery powered toys are evil. Now not only are the robbing children of imagination, now they're teaching them death threats.

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the brothers and the bike

"Come on, bubba, let's go!"
"All right, all right," he laughed, "I'm coming. Race you!"

The two brothers, one sixteen and the other seven, raced to the garage to grab their bikes. For the little tyke it was a monumental day, the first since his training wheels had been removed. The elder hovered over his brother like a brooding mother hen as they both gathered their bicycles, strapped on their helmets, and walked to the end of the driveway.

"You ready, little guy?"
"YEAH!" His reply echoed down the street and into the next,"let's go!"

And so the two brothers mounted their bikes, ready to conquer the world. The brothers took off slowly, the younger still a bit unsteady on his wheels. They rode side by side, the elder holding out his hand, hovering it just behind the younger's back. An unseen support ready to step in and prevent disaster if needed. All the while, the little brother sat proudly, grinning from ear to ear, pride spreading across every inch of his small 45" frame. Today, he was riding his bike without help. Today he was a "big kid."

So he rode, blissfully unaware of his protective guiding hand, down the gutter and into the next block; he was content to be riding through life and confident that he could succeed.

I drove by the pair last summer, a silent observer bound by the car beneath me and the fleeting glance I was able to devote to this oddly touching scenario. It was a moment in which I wished that I traveled with my camera to capture for others a snapshot like the one I saw that day of the love and care that was being so innocently and purely demonstrated.

And in that moment I felt myself feeling oddly closer to God.

After all, am I not the younger brother, riding through life, all-too-often blissfully unaware of the dangers, potholes, and bumps that could easily toss me over my handlebars? My confidence and peace comes, not unlike the young mans, from the knowledge that my Father is riding along beside me, His hand tenderly (though sometimes forcefully) guiding me through life's paths. But it is often when I don't sense His hand or somehow manage to forget that it is there that His presence is most important.

I am thankful that I'm not alone and that even in times like the ones I find myself in now, where I feel utterly and completely alone in my ride through life, that God is right beside me, His hand outstretched and ready.


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torture

According to the friendly neighborhood check-out clerk at Walgreen's this evening (who's mustache admittedly creeped me out initially) he has devised a new torture method for getting members of the Taliban to disclose secrets.


Oh, you want to know what it is?



Music. A endless 45 minute loop of Christmas music. He assured me it would be more effective than anyone could imagine.


And I just laughed. Laughed my little, well big, butt off. Thanks creepy mustache man!

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