10 Thoughts on Blazers' season opener

1. They don't make big men like they used to. Oden's getting hurt too easily, and that worries me.

2. Speed will kill us if we don't keep up. The Lakers were not using Jackson's famed Triangle offense. Instead, run & gun (unfortunately, my favorite kind of basketball) throttled Portland and put their head on a swivel.

3. Rudy Fernandez is legit. No joke. He is definitely everything we saw in Beijing. He can have the capacity to over do it or go too fast, but he is fearless.

4. NEVER give Kobe a reason to beat you, i.e. Joel Pryzbilla bumping him hard, otherwise he'll blow by you. He is the best player on the planet. Period. His presence alone helped Team USA win gold.

5. The Blazers are young. They aren't used to such a massive spotlight like last night's TNT showing. They had the world in their hand, and squashed it's chances. 

6. The way the West is shaping up, I think a playoff berth will be VERY tough, and it shouldn't be a surprise if they don't make it.

7. Brandon Roy is uber composed. Though he started 0-9 from the field, he led the team with a poker face and eventually brought his game, though in garbage time. I think keeping him healthy is WAY more important than Oden, though it sounds blasphemous. 

8. With Martell Webster out of the lineup, Travis Outlaw shined with 18 points. He has the ability to be so dynamic, but the shooting guard/small forward positions are so crammed on the roster, this is Outlaw's opportunity to strut his stuff. Last night was proof.

9. Nate McMillan shouldn't look so grumpy. I know he's a Sarge, but seriously, first game, dude.

10. Phil Jackson commented that they only had a big lead because Portland wasn't shooting well. He's got a point. Portland wasn't going to go inside without Oden, and LaMarcus was cold all night, so had a lot of open jumpers. This tells me two things: The Lakers are starting to play more aggressive D (which they did very well), and the Blazers are starting to become one-dimensional. If they don't start combining that very deep bench into a dynamic offense, without dropping the "old man's game" approach that worked so well last year, they will have a playoff chance.

Leaf blower

If you are not from Sherwood, or have just never visited, come during the fall, right around this time. Find Sunset Boulevard and head east on a crisp autumn morning when the sun is rising, or head west when it's deeper into the afternoon. If you ever do, you feel like you are stirring a sea of red, yellow, green and orange paint as it swirls around your car from all of the gorgeous trees lining the road for almost two miles.

I like this time of year. I enjoy the crisp, cold air while watching fantastic high school football (Newberg High is okay, and Sherwood High freakin' rocks). I love the sudden transition from summer to fall, and how drastically our moods change. I get stoked thinking about the snow that will soon be falling on Mt. Hood, my birthday (Oct 30th, and I like surprises...), and the opportunity to see most of my family once again for the holiday seasons. Change is always welcome in my life, especially when that stupid summer heat finally goes away :).

Unfortunately, though God is an unchanging God (thank goodness), that does not mean changes will happen to those who follow Him. 

I send this prayer request out to the few who read this blog: Pray for Willowbrook Free Methodist Church of Sherwood, Oregon.

As of right now, six families have left our small church for reasons either God-given, or other reasons I have no clue. Being such a small church, it is a big concern. I guess while growing up at Crossroads, the coming and going of families have not been a major concern of mine since it's so ginormous in the first place. On top of these families' departure, they were mostly people heavily involved in our church, like leadership team, small group leaders, directors, worship leader, food pantry coordinator, etc. 

When this trend started happening several months ago, our pastor and I agreed that this was good for our church, because we believe that Willowbrook is God's church; God's ministry... not ours. And right now, God is doing some major pruning.

I'll tell you this: There is no way I am leaving the church because of the lack of numbers. That's just silly to think about. The only way anyone's gonna pry me away would be either God's calling in my life or God closing Willowbrook's doors. 

I pray that the faithfulness of Willowbrook's remaining attendees stands firm in God, and that their trust is in Him and Him alone. I pray that we do not lose heart in these troubled times. I'm willing to bet that there are going to be some major sacrifices coming soon, and that some people might not like it. I pray that when those sacrifices do come, that we lean more on God's understanding and not our own. 

Pray that during this season of change, just as the colors on Sunset Blvd, that we see the end of the road, and ask God for guidance.

I urge you, my brethren in Christ, to pray for not only Willowbrook, but your ministry as well. Pray that God will constantly remind you that the ministry you are in is not yours. 

Beauty

Being your typical male, I think about women a lot. Unfortunately, I admit that I think about them sometimes in very bad and sinful ways. I've objectified them, and in my mind have slowly turned them into soul-less beings. Why? Because I'm sinful, and there's no other way around it. I might be a pastor, but that doesn't mean I'm immune to the clutches of sin and how it distorts my heart.

Why am I bringing this up? I just recently caught up with my oldest sister, who is the proud mother of two awesome girls, and a son baking in the oven. My nieces are 8 and 3, and they are more fun than finding Bigfoot. I joked with my sister about how they were going to be when they become teenagers. Needless to say, she was a little reluctant to acknowledge how fast they were growing, much less that her oldest daughter is already being hit on by mindless boys.

Now that I think about it, I don't blame her. More and more girls are being bombarded by the media (it's stereotypical, but don't deny the truth) to be "attractive," powerfully controlling, and sexually "not slutty." When I first babysat my first niece when she was only 1, I couldn't help but cry out in my heart "please, Lord, protect her from the lies of this world" as I held her sleeping, vulnerable body. 

What makes it worse is that girls are being taught to use their bodies to get what they want from men. I'll admit that as a guy it doesn't take much for an attractive woman to request something from me to get something she wants. 

As Joshua Harris pointed out, women these days are performing acts of pornography, though they are not actually in that horrid business. What he means is that the ways women dress and behave very much gets the attention of men, because just like the adult industry, they are understanding that men are physical, visual beings who feed heavily on these aspects. 

With that in mind, men are seen as despicable, perverted monsters. As Christians, men are expected to take full responsibility of where we look and how we act. Sorry, but it's a two-way street. 

Some of my best friends in high school were good-looking, athletic guys from my church. They didn't try showing off their bodies like high school jocks, but nonetheless, I knew that some gals in my youth group definitely did not mind seeing them with their shirts off during summer trips with swimming involved. Gals were not allowed to wear two-piece suits (seriously, THANK YOU), which was understandable. However, my friends and I realized that gals had the same problem that guys had with promiscuously dressed gals. I'm not one to brag, because I have extra baggage hanging around the waist, but some of my friends were determined to not take their shirts off during the summer activities to protect their sisters in Christ. 

After this past summer, I can't help but realize how many times my eyes have wandered wherever I went. Girls, please, there is a difference between dressing attractively, and dressing to attract. I'm not trying to put blame on you, because that's not my point. God has told all of us, not just men, to not even have a HINT of sexual immorality. It's something all of us need to work on. I know it's hard in our society, but then again, God tells us we are in this world, not of it. That means we shouldn't worry about what others think of us. Period. Only God should be at the forefront of our minds. 

I like women. As Paul said, if I burn with passion, I should (and probably will) get married someday. God made them beautiful to look at. I think women should realize that they were created by God to be beautiful by His standards, not ours. For instance, I know that there have been girls I've fallen for in the past whom I was greatly attracted to because they put God and others first. The wisdom and love they had for our Lord and the humility they show was WAY more attractive to me than just their looks, though they helped, because God intended it that way. My pastor once said to his former youth gals "If the guy you are dating or want to date does not put God first in his life, he's not worth it. Period." Obviously, this can be flipped around to guys. 

This summer, I went to a few weddings. Two of them in particular were outdoors on absolutely gorgeous Pacific Northwest summer nights. My favorite of the two was at Tilikum Retreat Center just outside Newberg, Oregon. The couple met while they were counsellors for the summer kid camps a year or so back. Their wedding was on a grassy hill, with the sun setting behind them. Needless to say, it was perfect. 

I love weddings, not because they remind me of my singleness (which I'm currently fine with at the moment), or that it's a party. I love it because I think God is there celebrating with us, dancing with the guests, tearing up next to the parents, giving the bride away at the alter, and joining the couple in holy matrimony. I can imagine a huge, fat smile run across our Lord's face when the couple kiss! :) That's the picture God has for each of us who will marry one day.

Too many times I see couples in public who look perfect; hair, body, physique, face... everything you can picture as "perfect." Yet as they walk, not hand in hand, not side by side, they seem lost, uncontrolled, and unhappy with something. The union was not unified. We see this in celebrities, who look perfect, but we hear stories of the brokenness and destruction of marriage not based on Christ, and end in nasty divorces. 

This is a commentary on Proverbs 31:

"Above all, she fears the Lord. Beauty recommends non to God, nor is it any proof of wisdom and goodness, but it has deceived many a man who made his choice of a wife by it. But the fear of God reigning in the heart, is the beauty of the soul; it lasts forever."

The women I described to have the attributes I'm attracted towards has this. I know her physical beauty will only last a short while, but her soul will last forever, and I like to know that one day my future wife will last forever :).

Like it was yesterday...

Everyone has a story, and with every story a part of your soul is exposed.

Just like everyone else in this country, I, too, remember where I was and what I was doing on September 11, 2001.

I was waking up, just a few days into my junior year of high school. My alarm clock went off around 6:00 am Pacific time that day. I usually like to get up earlier because I don't like rushing my mornings. The alarm was set to station 103.3, a soft-rock station I grew up listening to in the morning while being whisked off to school. Craig & John, the hosts of the morning show at the time, said something about a plane flying into the World Trade Center. Being a non-morning person, I vaguely heard those words and just assumed a puny prop plane crashed into it, and went halfway back to sleep, shortly after the radio hosts casually mentioned their own memories of the WTC bombing nearly a decade earlier. Little did I know that I woke up 15 minutes after the first crash into the North Tower.

As I gradually got up, I heard the seriousness on Craig and John's voices climb steadily. I was all ready for school, and I went down to the kitchen where my dad was sipping his morning coffee and reading his newspapers. 

"Hey Dad, did you hear?"

"Hear about what?" he asked.

"A plane crashed into the World Trade Center."

"Sounds like an accident."

We flipped on the small television in our kitchen, and sure enough, every channel had live coverage of the North Tower pluming smoke and fire around it's upper mid section, the chatter of news reporters throwing fact and rumor in every direction as reports and tips came streaming through. That's when I realized it was more serious than I thought, but still considered it an accident. 

That's when the second plane came. I was probably in the bathroom, but I didn't see it happen. My dad told me about it. Then I knew, mostly because the news reporters were saying it, that this was no accident. 

My dad said all we can do right now is pray. So on my way to school, I did that, but I still wasn't emotionally affected by this disaster. It wasn't in perspective to me yet.

I got to school, and every TV available was plugged in to some random classrooms throughout the school watching the news coverage. Every teacher was late to class because we were all watching. By the time I got there, they were replaying coverage of the South Tower collapsing, the damage at the Pentagon, and shortly the news of Flight 93 crashing in Pennsylvania came in. Then I saw the North Tower collapse live, and the skyline of NYC was changed forever.

Already the reliable grapevine of any high school, fellow classmates were saying they heard the White house had suicide bombers holding the staff members hostage, and the State Department was hit by a car bomb. Obviously, none of that was true, but you couldn't help but wonder on a day like that.

When I first heard about the damage and the potential amount of people who died, I didn't feel anything. Don't kill me, but I originally thought that the victims were lucky, especially those who could have been Christians. I was like "dude, they get to go to heaven!"

Yes, I lacked some tact as I mentioned this to a few of my classmates. But as the gravity of the situation permeated into each class session, the discussions, the tears, and the great cloud of sorrow started hanging over every person in this country, I realized how wrong I was to think such things in a great tragedy. Yes, I know it to be true that if there were some Christians in those buildings or in those jets, they are celebrating eternity with our Heavenly Lord as I write this. Yet, the sudden impact of human loss in this country united us. Historians were saying how this made Pearl Harbor look like minor in comparison. In my English class we wrote down our thoughts and prayers, as a few of my classmates cried tears of worry and sorrow for family and friends living in NYC. 

I did come to my senses, and the emotion did start running through me as I went to youth group the next night, hearing the casualty count continue to rise throughout the days and weeks. 

Each American has this memory of human loss, yet I find it ironic. I remember discussing this with a dear friend of mine shortly after the attacks, and he gave me a slap in the face with this:

"Now we know how the Middle East feels with all the violence they see every day."

He wasn't trying to justify the attacks. No justification will ever make these attacks seems remotely good. He was trying to make me understand that we do live in a bubble here in America, and the freedom we do enjoy is abused, neglected, and taken for granted on a daily basis. The invulnerability of this country was shattered, just like the egos of the builders of the Titanic, or the creators of the Tower of Babel. 

Maybe these attacks happened because this country needs a wake up call; that we aren't the only ones on this planet that matter. The international outreach of the country was strong, but it needs to be stronger as the world gets worse. We keep slapping the snooze button, unaware of the rotting that is happening, and not looking out for each other. Instead, we choose party sides, bash each other, horde resources, and spend money like it's going out of style. Are we the rich fool of Luke 12, thinking that the success we have is ours? Do we forget that this is unofficially (and hopefully stays that way) a Christian nation, and that what we have is just on loan from God?

We love claiming the good for our own, and place the bad as God's fault. How much more so is to realize the importance of God's love? His love isn't set by our standards. His love doesn't have an agenda. His love doesn't require a contract. For better or for worse, He loves us. As a nation, if we realize this, God's kingdom would soar, like our symbolic bald eagle.

I'm usually full of crap. And I had a long day at work.

Don't worry about it.

To All Those Politically Inclined To Speak Their Mind...

... I need some guidance. As I have kept a reluctant eye on our nation's politics over the last several months, I can't help but let my disdain for politics prevent me from analyzing and critiquing my decision-making before November 4th.

I hate politics, mainly because I hate the two-party system, and how it resembles the separation between denominations within the Church body. I despise how money and lobbyists have influenced politicians to waver in their beliefs and promises, only to find most of them corrupt in their own right through their many vices. 

I used to be a blind Republican, thinking that a party who supports anti-abortion was good enough, when there's more to politics than I'd like to shake a stick at. Now I don't trust either party, because I believe the GOP has betrayed me trying to pocket Evangelical Christianity as a meal ticket, while too many times I've seen the Democratic party waver too much in their beliefs and bend at will to popular demand.

I need opinions and insights from both sides of the political line. I do not know enough about, nor trust, either candidate for Presidency. I fear that Obama, though he would be a fresh face, an outsider bringing "Change," does not have enough experience, especially in foreign policy, and I think McCain's old enough to have a dinosaur as a pet, is not in tune with the "common man" in this country, and will croak three months into office if elected.

Please respond and tell me what you think, because I'm a big "undecided."

Meanwhile, I agree with much of what one of my favorite authors finds important before his benediction at the DNC in Denver this past week:

Don Miller's interview with Christianity Today

Breaking

Right now, I'm sitting in one of the best coffee shops in the world (Chapters, if you're sheltered and uninformed) reading blogs by dear friends and news stories from around the world. As my body once again asks "why aren't you getting registered for classes?", I think about the time I have spent since I finished my 17th year of education (about 6 of those years actually counted). 

Since January this year I've had my regular schedule of working my three jobs: part-time youth pastor, part-time YMCAer, and part-time sweat shop worker at a sign shop, my bread and butter. If it weren't for my jobs, I would not be living here in Newberg or being involved in the ministry at my church that sometimes feels like it's growing. I would not have seen the small, yet significant transformations among the people in my congregation who went and experienced San Francisco and realize there's a world outside of certain sheltered areas of Oregon. I would not know the good people who have become family to me, and I would not trade the last two and a half years for anything. 

Yet... in a community such as Sherwood, where people seem to have "everything together" in the 19th best place to live in the States, a desire for change as Ghandi would say is not exactly on the forefront of this community's mind. I have the advantage of working at the Teen Center here, and I get to see the vulnerable states of the apples which have fallen off their trees. The word "potential" doesn't even describe how much people in this community are capable of. 

Yes, I have been frustrated many times doing the work of vocational ministry here. Combining my experiences of mega-church Crossroads and pint-size Willowbrook have given me such a broad amount of perspectives within the Church itself. The work is never done. Constantly I have to remind myself of the many servants of God who were faithful to their work yet never saw result until they were long gone. Abraham never saw his people outnumber the stars, Moses never saw the Promise Land, David never saw the Temple, Elijah thought he was alone, Stephen never saw the Early Church grow, and Isaiah thought God's people were nuts! There have been times I felt like the work I've done has been a waste of time!! I feel like I should be taking advantage of my singleness, go globetrotting, find the places in need of God's love and grace, searching for those who are lost! Why am I rotting here when I see my close friends become God's hand on His outstretched arms across the world like in Thailand, Uganda, Japan, China, Holland, Romania, Mexico, San Francisco, Namibia, Madagascar, Louisiana, and Malawi?!

Yet... I remember that it's not my work doing anything here. Not in my 23 years of existence has my "work" with either Crossroads, Willowbrook, or even Northside in my random visits there, had anything to do with those churches' vitality and ministry! I have NOTHING to do with Willowbrook's existence. No one can claim that. This church would still be where God wants it to be whether I was introduced to Pastor Dean or not.

For those of you out there working in some type of ministry, locally or internationally, I take to heart that each of you has struck a chord in my life that resinates as a reminder that you are where you are because God wants you there. I know that somewhere within my arrogance and pride that God has wanted me here since I was born, and I will remain here until further notice. God constantly reminded Isaiah to keep going... to keep pressing God's message to His people, no matter how they respond. I pray that I may be reminded of that constantly. 

... as I watch...

I'm starting to understand why we love the Olympics so much. 

Little do we know that most of the sports we watch with such intensity every four years do actually occur more often between each Games. There are world championships, national championships, and other events all over the world that involve each of these sports. We just don't bother watching until those five rings appear across the screen with Bob Costas starting to follow in Dick Clark's never-ending footsteps.

The Olympic dream is something I could never quite figure out. I have played my fair share of sports, and I have dreamt of biting that shiny medal around my neck as a child. I've watched the Olympics since the original Dream Team in Barcelona in '92, the Kerrigan-Harding saga in '94, Michael Johnson blinging his gold chain and matching shoes into the record books in the 200 and 400 meter dashes in Atlanta '96, Jonny Moseley making skiing cool again in '98, former Tarheel Vince Carter "poster-izing" a 7'2" player in Sydney '00, the Canadian pairs Sele' and Pelletier skaters getting ripped off by a bad French judge in Salt Lake City '02, Shaun "The Flying Tomato" White taking gold in a halfpipe in Turino '06, and Michael Phelps getting 14 gold medals in Athens '04 and Beijing '08. I don't think I'll ever stop watching the Games.

That's when I realized why I watch it. The other night, when Phelps was going for history in the 4 x 100 meter Medley Relay, after Jason Lezak held on to a half body length lead in the anchor to give Phelps his 8th straight gold medal in these Games, the broadcast showed a replay of LeBron James and Kobe Bryant in the stands. Did you watch them? Most famous athletes or Hollywood stars who've graced other sporting events don't cheer like these two did (namely, David Beckham in the Staples Center, or any famous person hiding out at an NHL game). They were kids.... just kids, screaming, cheering and almost leaping out of the stands in ecstasy from the achievement the world just witnessed in Phelps. I mean, did you see the hat LeBron was sporting? It reminded me of Scotty Smalls' enormous duck billed fishing hat from "The Sandlot." On top of that, Kobe asked for a picture with Phelps! When was the last time Kobe asked someone, or anyone, for a picture during his illustrious career?!

Ahh, the pureness of sport. I know money is involved in these Games after the Closing Ceremonies, and I'm sure Phelps will probably hit pay dirt enough to retire twice. However, in that moment, with two of the greatest players in the NBA, willed on a bunch of relatively unknown swimmers (save Phelps), who only get recognition every four years, to reach gold. They were proud that someone else accomplished something amazing. The Redeem Team itself is reforming its image and accomplishing pure basketball during these Games, taking out the "me first" image we have had pounded into our minds for so long. I was proud of watching three American women I've never heard of sweep the women's individual sabre in the first days of competition. I tuned in to watch two Americanized Chinese women compete in ping pong doubles late at night. Patriotism runs through everyone's veins. Everyone likes common ideals.

As I've grown up watching these Games, I also watched my close friends grow up. Why am I mentioning this? I feel like groups of friends have common goals, just like the United States is hoping to achieve gold. Some of my closest friends are pursuing an ultimate goal: to spread God's kingdom. I find myself cheering for them, just as much as LeBron and Kobe cheered on Phelps. One of my best friends will be heading to Holland for about 5 years in a few weeks, along with his wife and newborn son. As much as I love being around him, feeding off of his wisdom, and sharpening each other, I know in my heart that I will be his #1 fan during his tenure in Holland. I will cheer him and his family on as they plant a youth ministry in Amsterdam, and pray for him when they reach out to the lost.

I find that as Christians too often we look into ourselves, say "me first & gimme gimme," and say we love, cherish, and grow our faith when in reality we don't. We're like those seeds among the thorns. We're growing, but we're letting too many things hinder us from producing any fruit. The fruit that those athletes reap is the honor and respect they deserve for their hard work, their dedication to their sport, and the MANY sacrifices they've made to get there. I'm positive that Phelps sacrificed most of his teenage social life, and maybe some of his young adult life, to become the greatest in his sport. That's his fruit, and he deserves it.

As for those cheering on Phelps, they get the satisfaction that they supported, saw, and shared this experience with him and the world. They set aside everything they wanted, and for brief moments watched someone sacrifice everything to achieve this goal.

What would the world be like if we started setting aside our wants and desires? What if Christians in this country set aside the desires of the "American Dream," and started desiring Christ's desire to save those who are lost? As nations set aside their differences every four years (well, two years), they cheer on for the sake of sport. When will we set down our pride and lust for absolute dominance as "Christians" and just cheer on for the sake of God's kingdom ?

Olympical moment

Just so everyone knows, I got in an accident last week. Nothing bad. Fender bender. My insurance took care of it, though it was my fault. For now I'm driving a Chrysler Sebring '08, WAAAY above my pay grade.

When I dropped my Honda off at the repair shop Monday afternoon, I was making small talk with an elderly-ish secretary in the waiting room while I passed the time for Enterprise to pick me up. I casually asked her if she's watched any of the Olympics this past weekend. Me being a big sports fan, I understood in my head that most non-sports fans usually watch the Olympics because, well, they're the Olympics.

"No, not at all actually."

"Really?" to my surprise. 

"Growing up, my parents made us kids watch the Olympics whenever they were on. We had one TV with only a few channels, and it was either that or play outside."

"Oh. I see."

On a normal day, I would've passed right over that statement: "My parents made us kids watch the Olympics...." Seriously, I don't think I would ever hear that statement ever again if I tried. Maybe that was the problem. I had such an expectation that any average American would "show patriotism" and watch our teams hopefully succeed, that I didn't consider not watching to be an option. 

Does this same concept apply with our entire lives? Does "assuming" really make an @$$ out of you and me? Do we assume that homeless people are homeless because they don't work hard enough, or the rich yuppy down the street who we think has it together? Why do we assume? Is it human nature to assume, to make judgments, to cast doubt on people for how they act or what they look like first glance?

How about the millions of teenagers in this country who are assumed to be irresponsible and not have hopes and dreams and ideas?

How about giving our nation's leaders the benefit of the doubt that they might actually know more than we think we do?

I could continue, but I don't want you assuming anything.

I Left My Heart...

... In San Francisco

The loveliness of Paris seems somehow sadly gay

The glory that was Rome is of another day

I've been terribly alone and forgotten in Manhattan

I'm going home to my city by the Bay

I left my heart in San Francisco

High on a hill, it calls to me

To be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars

The morning fog may chill the air, I don't care

My love waits there in San Francisco

Above the blue and windy sea

When I come home to you, San Francisco

Your golden sun will shine for me      - Tony Bennett

It's been a few days since I and 13 others from Willowbrook traveled 12 hours on the road to and from San Francisco, the first missions trip in the history of this small church. Needless to say, I was very excited. As I have watched our tiny church grow spiritually over the last 2 years, this trip was a long time coming. When I learned we started planning this trip over a year ago, I couldn't help but notice how young our church was spiritually. Don't get me wrong, I have a lot of growing to do myself. Only a small handful of the church have done a kind of missional work, while the rest have mainly stayed around the Portland metro area. 

When I spearheaded Harvest Share with a fellow FM church in the St. John's district in Portland, I thought those in our church would be rearing to go. Food pantry stuff is our specialty, so I thought the transition would be easy. It wasn't as much as I thought, but it helped us make connections with fellow Free Methodists around the area. 

Then Night Strike. Night Strike was a slow warmup for many in our church. However, as time progressed, and as God's Spirit started tugging on people's hearts, more came, more saw, and more experienced what it's like to reach out to find the lost, just as Christ tells us in many of His parables. Night Strike is a God-send. I believe Night Strike was a tremendous stepping stone for many of our members; preparing their hearts and minds for what God has called them to do.

Then San Francisco. The Golden Gate City. It was like a gentle smack in the face. When we pulled up to the YWAM on Ellis, right in the middle of the infamous Tenderloin district, the faces were instantly etched on our souls. Homelessness, drug peddling and abuse, alcoholism to name a few were there in the open. All we had to do was open the door, walk outside, and there it was. What intrigued me most about this area was the concentration. There's the Tent City folks here in Portland, but nothing of this magnitude. 

The police allow all of this corruption and sin run rampant in this area of town. It's ALLOWED! We heard so many stories of how the police would pick up people who "belonged" to the Tenderloin from around other areas and drop them off in this district like they were yesterday's garbage, and the district is the dumpster. 

When we talked and interacted with the rejected and down-trodden, the stories they shared were truly amazing. They've experienced more life than the brokers I saw on Market street chatting each other up about their summer homes. They don't even know how their underbelly is rotting, yet they have the gall to talk and pass the homeless as if they were invisible!

Many people of different backgrounds came to the Tenderloin to serve those who were down. The more who came, the more hope I saw on those weary faces. Just like how I see parents in Sherwood abandon their kids, I see a city, a country, abandon the homeless, the drug abusers, the alcoholics, and cast them aside. HOW?!?! 

I ask you that.....

Flickers

Movies I want to see this summer (and why)!

The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian

- Because C.S. Lewis is a genius, and the movie will somehow not match him but still be good

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

- Harrison Ford is one of my favorite actors. And seeing this old fart moving around like a true Indy will be hilarious

The Happening

- I love true suspenseful, scary movies. M. Night Shymalan (sp?) rocks.

Hancock

- July 4th weekend + Will Smith + drunken superhero = awesome

Kung Fu Panda

- I'm Chinese. and Jack Black rocks. Get over it.

Hellboy II: The Golden Army

- Anti-hero classic. Who doesn't love a smart alec demon who smokes cigars like they were going out of style?

The Dark Knight

- Two words: The Joker. Looks like Heath Ledger (may he rest in peace) has nailed this one.

It's hot outside. I hate hot weather. The coolness of a theater will be welcoming.

Reflections

I saw the life of a friend celebrated today.

I remembered how he hugged me, and humored me.

I witnessed his energy, comparable to a four year old.

I felt his heart, through the tear-soaked eyes of his wife.

I heard his music touch lives, and bring a smile to the soul.

I chewed on the wise, silly words of his wisdom.

I saw a thousand people stomp, clap, cheer, laugh, and cry at the mere thought of him.

Ben, you reflected Christ. Your life is the example we dream about, yet your life points to God, not yours.

I am proud to have known you, and I love you. And I WILL see you again, brother!

Into The Wild

I just watched this movie for the first time last night. Part of it was filmed at George Fox. I met Emile Hirsch and Sean Penn. The scenes from GFU never made it to the film, but still.

This movie definitely became one of my favorite movies. Maybe it is because I met a couple of the famous people in this movie..... maybe not. I did not get the opportunity to really talk to either the actor or the director, probably because some of the stage hands were pushing me around for taking pictures of Emile while he was being filmed.

***If you have not watched it, stop reading, because I'm diving head first. ***

At first glance, this based-on-book/real-life story just seemed like it was Chris McCandless's attempt to be Hippie Numero Uno. Don't get me wrong, he meets hippies along the way, but that's not the point. I found myself deeply entrenched in this story about Chris, who aptly renamed himself "Alex Supertramp" when he began his journey, because as the story continued, I discovered that his life, this image on a bus in Alaska, was a complete detour of what he missed along the way.

Chris's story begins shortly after he graduates from Emory University (which Penn picked Fox's location because it's Macy dorm looked like one of Emory's). He and his sister/best friend are the "bastard children" of overtly materialistic parents who layer lies upon deceit to keep a straight face to the rest of the world. In Chris's mind, this journey he takes is his way of telling his parents to discover what really matters. 

He travelled from Atlanta, to South Dakota, to Los Angeles & other parts of California, to Mexico, the Grand Canyon & Colorado River,  the Yukon territories, and finally Fairbanks, Alaska, and many other places along the way. On that path he meets some amazing characters:

A simple wheat farmer in South Dakota

A hippie couple, twice, once on the road and another in "Slab City"

and my favorite......A WWII vet

Chris's journey, to me anyway, seemed to be a path of finding out truth, being inspired by some great writers in history: Tolstoy, Thoreau, and London to name a few. His home life was something he did not want, partially because of his parents lacking the vision to see that they were constantly pushing their children away. To Chris, his trip, ending in Alaska, was how he was going to discover his purpose. Over time, Alaska became his purpose. 

Throughout the movie, you start to realize that the people he encounters have a strong sense of love and care towards this young 23 year old. The narration of his sister only strengthens the purpose of the film. I for one found that Chris's Alaskan ambition blinded him to one simple truth: He was looking for love.

About an hour before the end of the film, he meets Ron Franz, a WWII vet who's lived in Salton Sea, CA all his life. Ron didn't have much purpose at first glance. He's lived his life carving images into leather after his wife and son died in a tragic car accident while he was in Okinawa, Japan. After he met Chris, he found purpose. He found out that true happiness came in loving people. He went out of his way to house Chris during his journey, feed him, teach him the art of leather carving. Chris, in his usual manner throughout the film, tends to leave his hosts early and suddenly in his pursuit of Alaska. Ron, in his loving ways, caught Chris early in the morning, gave him miscellaneous supplies, and drove over 100 miles to get out of the desert to drop Chris off to continue his journey. In what I think is the most God-inspired scene in the movie, Ron gives Chris a proposition. He asks Chris if he can adopt him, so that Chris wouldn't have to run anymore. Very politely, Chris said "We'll talk about it when I get back from Alaska." With tears rolling down his face, Ron sits in his car as he watches Chris hitch hike his way to the great unknown.

In one of the last scenes, Chris is dying of starvation in an abandoned bus outside of Fairbanks in the true wild. During his 112 days in the wild, he kept a journal. He thought he found true happiness being alone in nature, in all its beautiful yet dangerously unpredictable scenery. However, being trapped and dying, he realized that by taking the name of "Alexander Supertramp," he realized how alone he was out there. He wrote something along the lines of "real happiness is shared." With images of the people who loved him flashing before his eyes, he died knowing that his ambition of Alaska sealed his fate to die alone. 

I find that many times in our lives we are Chris in that car with Ron, only Ron is God (not really, but follow me). Ron gave Chris everything he could. Everything. He even offered family, love, and a cherished life. No strings attached. Yet we have our own dreams, our "Alaska," and we say "We'll talk about it later." God's gift of love is real, and we tend to push it away. It almost seems too good to be true. We go hitch hiking, leaving God broken hearted after we've thrown his gift back in his face. 

My interpretation of Sean Penn's film might not be what Penn intended, but then again, God works in really funny ways.

What Real Men Look Like.

This last weekend, I spent it with about 125-150 other men, ranging from the 16 year-old energizer bunny from my youth group to the an 80+ year old WWII vet, all from the FM churches around the NW. What an unreal weekend. To me anyway.

I've never been on a men's retreat, let alone a "Men's Advance." I didn't know what to expect from a massive sausagefest at my old camp stomping grounds of Aldersgate. I still remember the eight poles lining the downslope path that I slalomed while at junior high church camp many years ago, getting my sleeve caught on the last one and getting swung around like a tether ball. So many things change.....

After two different sessions, we had something called "church groups," where the men from their respective churches gathered as a smaller group to discuss the topic our Italian-descendant depicted. It was a very vulnerable situation from where I was, because I've never seen many of the men from our church in a vulnerable position before. Some of them revealed things, scars from their past, I would never have known in any normal situation. Others had expressions of solemn and reflective complacency that spoke more volumes through their silence. 

During free time activities, I saw more still from these men, like how they act in situations they enjoy, or lack the enjoyment. How they react when it rains and hails while attempting a 15-foot putt. Or their meticulous personalities becoming magnified in a mysterious nameless billiard ball/bumper/bowling game. Or what subjects arise in simple conversations, reflecting the passions of these men's souls. What about the simple nature of how much the volume of consumed food, especially prime rib and baby back rib meat that fell off the bone, spoke about a man's appetite; or his values?

I learned much about these men, and my respect quadrupled. I think about what many of them have gone through in life, sometimes thinking that they've wasted much of it pursuing vain existences. I don't believe that. I don't believe a single moment in these men's lives was a waste. I think their hindsight affects young guns like myself, or the teenage boys I'm watching grow up. I believe that their experience of life, both good and bad, has and holds a purpose. 

These men aren't the stereotypical "macho" men our society demands. Many of them are meek, while others are immature, like myself. Some are strong in personality, while others' actions speak louder than words. I believe all of them have lives that cannot be regretted. At all.

Each of them has a story to share. Each of them need an ear to hear. They are real men.

A Whole New World

A few weeks ago I had my first official sermon in front of 50+ people at Willowbrook Church. I spoke about the world of teenagers on how they view us, themselves, and the world around them. I talked about how adults have such an impact on kids, and how they remember you for who you are and what you do.

Today, I was reminded about what I got myself into.

I recently got hired to work at the Teen Center in the Sherwood YMCA. My job description is to basically be a positive impact in kids lives while hanging out and playing games. Part of my job also has me visiting the local middle school in Sherwood. Here are some thoughts that either ran through my head or mouth when I saw these munchkins:

"Holy crap, they're tiny."

"Man, he's HUGE!"

"Why do are they so sassy?"

"They think they own everything."

"Why are they so jumpy?"

"Why are they so mean sometimes."

"What's wrong with mingling with kids in other grades?"

"How are they seeing me?"

"Why is my new name 'FredWin'?"

...

After about two hours of passing out flyers to promote the Teen Center's activities, I found myself drained from the immense pile of information storming my brain. I couldn't believe how they mostly responded positively to me without trying to spit at me. They remembered my name (I had trouble remembering theirs, but oh well). The small talk topics stuck with them as I left and they yell back at me with toothy grins. 

As Don Miller would most likely say, "how's my story impacting theirs?"