Follow Up Story: America, Its Guns and Our Problem

Earlier this week I posted about "America, Its Guns and Our Problem," and this morning I was shocked to find the following news. Please pray for these children and for change in this country's laws, hearts and minds. 

America, Its Guns and Our Problem

For the second time in a year a mass shooting has taken place in a crowded, public place. Another gunman has terrorized defenseless Americans, only this time it happened at a shopping mall. Last night in Clackamas, Oregon, a teenage gunman wearing a mask opened fire on Christmas shoppers. First, it was Aurora, CO and now, this. Something has to change. 

I remember when Columbine took place in '99; it was the first of its kind of news. Sure, shootings took place before Columbine, even at schools, but nothing matched its scale. Two shooters used semi-automatic weapons, shotguns and homemade explosives to kill 13 people and injure 21. Then, like some bad dream that you keep having night after night, shootings appeared all over the news.

Schools of all kinds, shopping malls, workplaces and movie theaters, at one time or another, have all somehow been twisted into fear-filled shooting galleries. So what can we do? We know the problem of mass, public shootings in America isn't getting any better. What will turn the tide against our nation's gun-violence epidimic? Will legislation, counseling or even a mitigation of violent films?

First, politicians and lawmakers must reengage the gun control issue. While Mitt Romney was running for President, he was asked by Brian Williams about his record on gun legislation and what our government should do in the wake of the Aurora, CO shootings (Video - start at about 1:30 min). "I don't happen to believe America needs new gun laws," Romney argued. At this time in our country's history, I couldn't disagree more.  

If the role of the government is to protect its citizens from all threats, foreign and domestic, then we need the government to step up and make it more difficult to purchase semi-automatic weapons, fully automatic weapons and assault weapons. In Mitt Romney's own words, "these guns are not made for recreation or self-defense, they are instruments of destruction with the sole purpose of hunting down and killing people." If not new gun laws, amendments and careful reconsideration of the ones we have are what we need now, more than ever before.

But what about my right to bear arms (the second amendment)? Great question! I'm not arguing for a removal of the second amendment from the constitution or a revoking of private gun licenses. I am calling for stricter measures to be drafted by our lawmakers to make it harder for people to purchase arsenals of weapons that should only be possessed by trained military or law-enforcement personnel. Furthermore, I hardly believe our forefathers envisaged an America where every man, woman and child could purchase an AR-15 at a gun show. We have wrongfully inflated the right to bear arms to be stretched far beyond its intended purpose. 

Guns don't kill people, people kill people. Though this makes a good point about focusing on the people who buy guns, as a matter of fact both guns and people kill people. It's true, as Mitt Romney argues, that we should pursue dangerous people who desire to use guns for taking lives. It's also true that pursuing said personalities alone will not and has not made things better. I would argue for a two-pronged approach: (1) Tougher gun laws (including measures that drastically restrict what's purchased online and at gun shows) and (2) a wake-up call to the American conscious. 

To the latter, we as Americans need to get a clue. We are the most violent nation on the planet and we export it gladly to other countries. Changing a few laws will not curb this violent trend, to that end Mr. Romney and I wholeheartedly agree. The heart must also be pursued and changed. So, how does that happen? 

The first step is to recognize there is a problem. "Hi, I'm the United States of America and I'm addicted to violence." And what is at the heart of all addictions? We are self-medicating through violence, exercising our hate and frustration in the unhealthiest ways. I'll admit it, it feels good to imagine myself laying into the guy who cut me off; it feels good to berate the waiter who ruined my $15 dinner; it feels good when a bully picks on another; it feels good to be angry. The problem is, hate and anger are secondary emotions that don't get at the core of what's going on. 

What's really going on is this: Americans are angry. We Americans need to do some hard thinking and feeling, to dig deep and discover why we love to hate. And this starts on the micro-level, with you and me. Then, we find genuine healing for our hearts and seek restoration for ourselves and with our neighbors. Next, we tell our story of recovery. "Hi, I'm John and I'm a hate-aholic." By sharing our recovery from hate addiction, we invite others to examine their own hearts and minds. At the very least, all of this creates momentum for more conversation.

In the same way Martin Luther King, Jr. was able to convict the American conscious with the gospel of Jesus as it relates to Civil Rights, America needs a catalyst for a conversation about hate and gun rights. You could be that person or I could be that person. Either way, our gun control laws and approaches to addressing hate in this country aren't working. 

Simply legislating more won't change our predicament. Simply pursuing people to change their hearts won't resolve it either--not on a nationwide scale. We need a two-pronged approach, each with its own scope. Law is terrible for changing hearts, but great for ensuring justice and safety. More introspection and counseling won't stop all people from breaking the law, but it will help them understand why they desire to do so. Politicians should do the hard work of legislation for our safety; counselors, pastors, educators and parents should do the hard work of reconciliation within and without. We're all in this together. We  need all hands on deck because the holes in our hull are many and it's going to take a monumental effort to ensure we don't go under. 

What did you lose last night?

I knew it would happen. I woke up this morning and had a feeling Facebook would explode with both love and hate. However, since I didn't stay up to see who won the Presidential Election, I didn't know which emotion would dominate my news feed? 

I do live in Texas, so it was safe to suppose that if Romney won I would see posts of joy and jubilation. If Obama won, which I now know he did, then I would see frustration, despair and hatred. There are times when Facebook newsfeeds are boring and lifeless; I had a feeling this morning would be anything but. And when I finally had a break from work at 10 am, Facebook didn't disappoint. 

There have been angry, rhetorical remarks, "How could our country be so stupid?" And insults, "Those poor idiots who voted for Obama don't know what's coming." And finally, appeals to the absurd, "Stupid people shouldn't be allowed to vote." Regrettably, I've also seen long-time friends turn against each other, trading comments as if they were jabs and uppercuts. Why?

So much rides on our Presidential Elections. It seems each year America breaks records for the inordinate amounts of time, money and energy both candidates and their supporters pour into each contest. And that is partly what excites me about democracy: people mobilize for change. It's no surprise, then, when people feel angry because their candidate didn't win. 

The trouble, however, comes when people face loss and then feel like losers. Anger and hatred are really secondary emotions, they speak to something deeper, a cause for rage and outbursts of anger. In the case of last night's election, I am certain of the cause for most people's anger: insecurity. 

If you are a Romney fan who is inexplicably angry this morning, then you may not like what I'm about to say. The good news is, both Democrats and Republicans need to hear this because both are human (though even that is contested on Facebook). Most Republicans who are pissed this morning feel that way because they feel uncertain about the future. They put a lot of hope and trust in Romney to change the country, economy and even their lives. "Now that Obama has been reelected, who knows what will happen?" This is called insecurity and if you feel this way, you are not alone. 

As one who has always wrestled with insecurity, let me reassure you that what you lost last night was not anything you needed anyway. If you are angry and feeling uncertain today, all you lost was a sense of security that was not real, or safe. Because no matter who is elected or who loses, all of us will face hardships in the next four years - it's inevitable. Unfortunately, some of us believe (including me, at one time) that the President of the United States will fix all of that. 

If I'm describing you, then I must say I'm not sorry for your loss. If anything, this is an opportunity to find out what you really trust in? Where does your hope really lie? Over what issues are you willing to lose a friend, and why? If your identity and security are so inseparably bound to a political party, sports team or another human being, you will always be disappointed. You will continue to be angry and your emotions will be continually tossed like flag in the wind. You won't be much fun to be around, either. But if you are willing to take a chance, step out into the unknown and search for security, the anger and fear will eventually fade and be replaced by something called "life." The choice is yours, but not because we live in a democracy, because we are human. 

Struggling In Between (Part 1)

A month ago I watched a documentary about the making of U2’s hit album, Achtung Baby. The film is called From the Sky Down; it chronicles the band's fierce struggle to find unity, creativity and light at a dim point in their career. U2’s fight to keep pushing, despite conflict within and without, has inspired me during my own season of transition, struggle and rebuilding.

At the close of the 80's and dawn of the 90's, you might not have guessed U2 was on the verge of implosion. The album Joshua Tree had been a huge success and the boys from Dublin had more worldwide appeal than ever. Even so, the band's creative and personal lives were in disarray. Sky Down depicts the band as a collection of aching individuals, walled into their own spaces both musically and emotionally.

I, too, know what it means to give off the appearance of success, while inwardly in shambles. After six years of vocational ministry, two of which were spent serving in Budapest, Hungary, I learned how to earmark my success within ministry. In recent years you might have described me as a gifted teacher, experienced leader, knowledgeable student of the Bible and innovative missionary. My Greek professors once called me their “star student.” Despite all this outside support and promise, I eventually became exhausted, disenchanted and frustrated with all-things-ministry. So, what happened?

When Bono and the gang arrived in Berlin on October 3^rd, 1990 to record a new album, they found a city they could relate to. Germany had officially been reunited on the exact day of the band’s arrival in the capital. Since Berlin was the epicenter of such a monumental historical shift (de Wende), U2 saw and felt the identity crisis the city was undergoing.

Berlin had been divided by an ominous, concrete wall for 30 years. All of a sudden the German capital entered the 90’s and became a unified metropolis. U2 wondered if their own walls might come down? Would the 90’s also be a time of reunification for this band with so much promise and talent? Or would they remain in isolation, moving towards desolation and short of redemption?

Budapest was my Berlin. Allie and I moved there in 2010, seeking to serve and experience God in new ways. I didn’t know it at the time, but this city that had seen so much darkness, depression and loneliness would create the ideal backdrop for confronting these very qualities in my own being. And, like U2, I was not only stepping into a new city and culture, I was also stepping foot into a decade of uncertainty. Would I survive this overseas adventure and return home with a refreshed sense of God's presence? Or would I leave Hungary with a full passport and an empty heart? 

Birth-Day

What are birthdays like in your late twenties? If you don't already know, it's much different from the confetti-filled, balloon-popping, sugar-enhanced celebrations of your youth. My past few birthdays--when I turned 26, 27, 28--have taken a turn for the existential. Outside of sharing a few drinks with friends, you would have found me taking long walks, hands behind my back, contemplating life itself. Today has been no different. 

I'm inching closer to 30. It's not as depressing as people make it sound. Jokes about getting old are just as common and equally as annoying as marriage jokes; they usually incorporate death, frailty, and sexual under-performance in the punch line. However, with a six-month old and a beautiful wife at home, a heart full of friendships and experiences, and a genuine sense that my life is shaping into something beautiful, I can't complain. 

Today I've been especially aware of how precious life is. A colleague of mine was making a presentation when a G-Chat window popped up, it was his wife checking in. "I felt the baby moving again, so don't worry...everything's fine." It was a sobering reminder of what really matters: Powerpoint slides about upcoming change or the beating of the tiniest heart? The accidental eavesdropping reminded me of when I first learned the answer to that question.  

In March of 2011 we suffered through a miscarriage. After so much anticipation and excitement, telling our friends and family we would soon be parents, everything stopped. A little heart stopped and so did ours. We were left desolate, wondering "Where do we go from here?" Doubts, anger, frustration, and fear filled the air. And through that deep sorrow we began to shuffle along this mortal coil in a different way altogether.

I remember riding subways in Budapest and as I looked around at each passenger I would think, "You're a miracle, you made it here because of a miracle, you made it here for a reason..." I suddenly appreciated the people around me because I realized how hard it can be to travel from the womb to life outside of it. Today I've had the same revelations. 

I'm thankful to be alive. Though I've faced many crushing trials, I am happy to be alive. More than that, I'm thankful to be surrounded by life. To have a wife and son who God has entrusted to me, to have friends who care for me, to breathe with others is a gift. I'm thankful to know my God, my Father who has never given up on me, even in my mess. 

So, I don't know how your Wednesday is going, but just know that you are reading this because you have had life breathed into you. I pray you take it in deeply and pass it along with grace, love, and hope.  

America, I Love/Hate You

In an effort to better process my re-entry into American culture, I thought I’d put together a list of things I like and dislike, or "enjoy" and "could do without," as I think about settling back into my homeland. 

ENJOY
Friendly Faces—People smile at you here, a lot! Not only are people generally warmer in the US than in Hungary, Americans can also be really kind and caring. If I can brag on my parents a bit, most recently they visited Dallas and came across a homeless man begging on a street corner. My parents saw the man, had compassion for him, rolled down their window and offered the man $10 to help him on his way. The man looked at my parents, looked at the bill, looked back at my parents and said, "Holy Shit!" My parents took that response as a "thank you" and wished him well. Even the homeless in the US are not out of reach from American kindness. 

Generosity—Americans are very generous. Though we consume more than any other nation, we also give, give, give and give some more. I have an American-Vietnamese friend named Thai, who upon learning that we didn’t have cable TV because it’s outrageously expensive shared his Netflix account with us. Now we can catch up on two years of movies we missed while overseas, all for free. I have dozens of other stories like this one, or the one with my parents, where kindness and generosity go hand-in-hand. 

Dinner and a Movie—Living in Dallas, we have found ourselves in the restaurant capital of the world (Dallas has more restaurants per capita than any other city). We have top-notch Tex-Mex, cafes, burger joints and, what’s quickly becoming my favorite, Indian restaurants. A colleague of mine took me to a breakfast spot called, “The Dream Café.” Apparently Bono like the place when he’s in town; I myself was having a beautiful day following granola-crusted French toast!

Dallas also boasts some outstanding movie theaters. Here you’ll find everything from state-of-the-art IMAX screens to low-key, artsy movie houses. When we first came back from Budapest, I was desperate to see Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. The British-made film was shot partially in Budapest and we wanted to see our old stomping grounds on the big screen! We had an impossible time finding a screening of the movie at first, but then one of the art-movie houses—The Angelika—began showing the film and we had a blast revisiting our favorite European city while being in Texas.  

Could Do Without
Here in my Car—Life happens in the American car, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Road trips are a blast and Wayne’s World moments are even better. However, for two years I had been living with and loving public transportation. I am not such a fan of traffic, countless auto expenses and angry-as-hell drivers. We live on a street corner where many people mistakenly believe they have a stop sign, when actually they could keep cruising through. This has led to many near-misses and one street fight I witnessed from our balcony. Some dude got so mad about almost being hit that parked his car in the intersection, moved ferociously towards the other car and began cursing while threatening to pull the other driver out of the car. There is no shortage of enraged Americans on the roadways.

Busy-ness—The pace of life in the US is often overwhelming. In Hungary we ate meals over the span of at least two hours. Our Magyar friends would sometimes apologize for leaving a coffee date after two and a half hours of conversation. Back here in the States, our waiters rush us through our meal in 45 minutes, Starbucks has drive-thru coffee and we all rush from here to there. So I swore to myself that I wouldn’t rush so much when I returned. I said I would never again eat and drive when I got back to Texas. I thought, “I will make time to eat and enjoy my food.” On the contrary, I have already eaten my fair share of hamburgers or other forms of food in the car so that I wouldn’t be late to work or some meeting. Slowing down to enjoy life, and food, is going to be harder than I thought.

Fear—I’ve never been in a culture that operates under fear like that of America. Especially when it comes to consumer purchases, fear is a motivator unlike any other—even sex. Our home or car must be protected from malicious intruders, our bodies from harmful foods or chemicals, our future from financial uncertainty and the list goes on. I even get tired of people telling me to “Be careful” whenever I’m leaving a restaurant or someone else’s home.

I was on Facebook and someone had posted a picture of a gun where the caption read, “Welcome to my home…That door you just kicked in was locked for your protection, not mine.” I can remember living in irrational fear like this once before, where I was constantly afraid of someone breaking into our house. After living overseas, travelling a lot and learning to trust God in thick and thin, I’ve changed. I’ve seen there is an entire world to explore out there and people to be enjoyed. I’ve learned that not everyone is out to get you. Fear is paralyzing, it distorts reality and robs our lives of adventure; I pray that I can overcome my fears while facing them here in America.

A poem a day keeps the devil away

GRACE

Grace is a ghost.

She climbs through my window, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,

She floats across my room, and darkness finds no place to hide.

Oh, elusive grace.

Come back and haunt me a few more times,

Scare away all the wretched demons who against me testify.

Because when you call on me, I hear my name

When you touch my face, I’m not the same

When you call on me, I hear my name

When you touch my face, I feel no shame

Grace, I’m hot on your trail.

Stumbling down alleys and through moonlit streets,

You know I’m barely able to stay on my feet.

Pick me up grace.

Carry me home and change my clothes,

Put me to bed so these eyes can close, and I can finally rest.

Cause I need you to breathe,

I need you to see

I need you to wipe away my hate and fear, and help me be free

Be free.

Top 10 Flows

I was going to post a "Part 2" to the whole Kony 2012 phenomenon, but I'm sick of thinking and talking about it. Therefore, I am offering a more nostalgic and entertaining post.

While lounging around the other day, I caught a documentary on Fuse about the Death Row record label in its hay day. Though it was depressing to see how twisted the West coast label became, the documentary got me thinking about my favorite rap tracks. A quick note, my criteria are 1) the song must have a killer opening flow, 2) it must be a popular rap song, one that most people would know (no underground stuff--it's too hard to rank underground) and 3) the words must be the focus, not necessarily the beat. I submit to you, therefore, the top 10 flows in rap during the 90's and 2000's:

10) C.R.E.A.M. (Wu-Tang Clan)

9) B.O.B. (Outkast)

8) So Watcha' Want? (Beastie Boys)

7) It Was a Good Day (Ice Cube)

6) Jesus Walks (Kanye West)

5) 99 Problems (Jay-Z)

4) Keep Ya' Head Up (Tupac)

3) Big Poppa (Notorious BIG)

2) Lose Yourself (Eminem)

1) Nuthin' But a 'G' Thang (Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg)

Honorable Mentions: Elevators (Outkast), Gold Digger (Kanye West), It's A Hard-Knock Life (Jay-Z), Dear Mama (Tupac), Stan (Eminem)

Kony 2012 (Part One): An American-African's Critique

In case you haven't heard enough about Kony 2012, I would like to offer a perspective that is truly unique. The thoughts below are brought to you by a friend (Tony) who lived in Africa for over 20 years. You might call him an American-African, someone who grew up in the Northeast and then lived life as an African with his wife and family. After sharing Tony's perspective in this post, I will explain in "part two" why I think we should applaud Invisible Children's efforts.

Tony traveled to Central and Eastern Africa quite frequently, working to empower the indigenous peoples everywhere he went by partnering with them and putting his own agenda aside. He is someone I deeply respect for how he views the African people, gives them dignity and believes in hope for the "dark continent." Here are his thoughts on the Kony 2012 video when I asked him what is helpful and harmful about the viral campaign:

It is helpful in that a whole generation of techno savvy, video watching, FB using, cause-driven young people are being informed about a situation that is thousands of miles away.

It is helpful in that many of those who see the video will be mobilized to want to do something about the LRA and Kony.

It is helpful that there have been those who have traveled to Uganda and helped rebuild schools, it looked like it anyway in the video.

It is not so helpful because it communicates that the USA, or at least this generation of Americans, can cure the world of this ill because we want to and because we can. The underlying belief is that if we just keep pushing the information in front of people, they will respond and they, the US government, will have to send more troops to Uganda. If we just keep up with making Kony famous, the US troops will go in and take care of what the incapable Ugandan army was unable to do themselves. It smacks of paternalism and colonialism.

It is not helpful because there are a lot of groups that are seeking to help and serve the children who are being rescued from Kony's army already working in Uganda. How about if we spent more money giving those organizations food, supplies, clothes, volunteers and more centers to welcome the lost children? Rather than spend thousands on flyers, posters, stickers and t shirts for the April 20 media blitz covering city walls, subways and signs with Stop Kony junk, how about we give it to the folks who are on the ground in Uganda being there for the children? On a side note, who is going to clean up the city after the media blitz the morning of April 21st? Just asking.

It is not helpful because it shows a ton of white young people visiting Uganda to help build a school or meet with the children but who will go on with their lives and forget the relationships. We are such quick fix type of people from the USA. This approach encourages us to get it done by 2012. So, my fear is that many will be involved up front but few will last more than six to eight months after the swell dies down. We will check it off our list of "things done to impact the world" and move on to our self centered living.

It is not that helpful because it portrays Uganda as such a terrible place that only we as young, hip Americans can be mobilized to save the Ugandans from themselves. The African pride is very strong. They are also very wily. We have created a spirit of dependence in many African societies over the years starting with colonialism and even into many years of missionary work by the Catholic church and more social Gospel based groups, unfortunately. While the people of Africa have received from us and do appreciate it, I fear that we risk crushing their spirit again by imposing our way of stopping Kony and bringing him to justice. There are a lot of groups seeking to improve the African society from within. There are a lot of great programs that have reduced AIDS and sexual promiscuity in Uganda. The church is alive there. Why are we not talking about what they are already doing and seeking to come alongside them and help within their framework?

It is not helpful because it seems that it is about this guy's decision to make a difference and it is all about him.

The next blog post will be from my perspective as a new father and my defense of Invisible Children's effort.

Gratitude and The Grey

I was in a terrible mood when I went to see The Grey. Being new here in Dallas, I am woefully unfamiliar with its freeway system and was late to meet a friend at the theater. Prior to my leaving for the movie, I also engaged in a conversation with my wife that can only be described as "intense." The combination of my disoriented driving and family friction made me doubt whether watching Liam Neeson survive in the Alaskan wilderness would be the peaceful end needed to my stressful day--boy was I wrong.

The Grey is about a small band of oil-and-gas roughnecks who, upon a plane crash en route to some needed time off, must survive in an unforgiving winter landscape. Conflict, both within and without, abounds in this survival flick. Man-eating wolves, freezing temperatures and spontaneous blizzards combine with human despair, divisiveness and good ol' fashion fear to create a frigid hell on earth.

It's up to Neeson to lead the survivors through the snow and on to safety. More than a few people die along the way and everyone must face their fears. And fear truly leaps off the screen for 117 minutes. It was easy to forget my pre-film problems in the midst of a nightmarish storyline made up of men hunted by all forms of nature. I felt pretty good about eating popcorn in a heated theater; I was beginning to see my life wasn't all that bad.

As each man stares into death's cold, dark eyes, they are asked to reduce their lives down to one or two important things. In one of the few let-me-catch-my-breath moments, the survivors engage in an existential campfire discussion about life, God and what really matters. What we learn about these hardened misfits is, when faced with life and death, the only thing that matters is who--not what--we love. It's a theme that carries through the movie, that people matter most, and I had to keep myself from texting mid-movie wife, "Thinking of you...I love you."

We also learn that staring across the chasm that separates life and death turns all men spiritual. Go watch Touching the Void or Deep Water and you'll see that man cannot avoid the spiritual realm, either its dark or light regions, once death is in sight. Around the campfire Neeson swears that neither faith nor God mean anything to him, yet when all hope seems lost he cries out to the God he doesn't think will respond. And though Neeson concludes that his assessment of God is correct, his visceral and spiritual lament at the film's end is one its most powerful scenes.

I, too had a spiritual response to Neeson and the others' journey. Frustrated by uncontrollable circumstances and relational conflict, I had my own Grey moment before the movie when I wondered, "Does God care about me right now?" It's a fair question that everyone asks, whether around a campfire in Alaska or on a highway in Texas. The breath in my lungs, though I will one day lose it, and the wife in my arms, though she too is on loan, give me cause to answer, "Yes. God does care." All of life is a gift given and The Grey makes this point emphatically. My circumstances are bound to change and more complaints are sure to follow, but this film reminds me that life and all its possessors are the bold and bright spots on a sometimes grey horizon.

Presence

I recently had to answer a question about how "the Lord has impacted my life." I didn't think I could answer such a broad question, but I'm proud of what eventually came out:

When I think about Jesus and his place in my life, what comes to mind is the word “presence.” Even before I trusted in Jesus as Lord and Savior, I can recall moments when the presence of God was very real and even palpable. During the darkest times of my life, especially in those times, Jesus has never stopped chasing me. Through a tumultuous childhood, the death of my Mom, wandering teenage and college years, doubt, fear and depression, Jesus has never let go of me. I have learned the Lord’s presence is sometimes best perceived in our “dark nights of the soul.”

With a diligent love and a persistence that is beyond my understanding, the Lord has met me in my darkest places and then changed me. Jesus has never left me feeling condemned or worthless when he exposes my sin. Instead, the Lord is quick to heal and bring grace to my soul, even in times of painful exposure. Lately I have been doing a lot of reflection on my past and I can see a very real change and saving grace. If it were not for Jesus, I would not take risks, seek adventure, grow in love and trust, be a husband or a father (especially not a good one) or simply enjoy life.

The presence of Jesus in my life has taught me how to be more fully human and let him be more fully God. I experience a great freedom in embracing my humanness because it allows me to receive grace as a created child of God. In this grace I enjoy my life, the world and the people around me more fully—with genuine joy. But most importantly, aside from the many blessings Jesus gives, I am constantly seeking the presence of God. Jesus’ presence in my life has given me a thirst for something beyond, something already here but not yet fully present. Bono sums up this pursuit of presence for me nicely:

You broke the bonds
And you loosed the chains
Carried the cross, of my shame...You know I believe it

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

The Bottom

Blood that trickles down like tears,

racing to get to the bottom of something.

Gravity’s cruel effect on humanity.

When nearness to you feels more like death than life,

your illuminating presence exposes my dark.

Your love forces its way into every corner of my house.

At the bottom of everything is a question, “Can I be loved?”

So that’s where we’ll meet then, at the bottom.

My great crash is where you’ll raise me up,

and in a moment of weakness I will let my guard down,

leaving the door just wide enough to let love in.

Spiritual Exercises: "A Loved Sinner"

I've been working through some spiritual exercises that are modeled after Ignatius and what he took his followers through. Here's what I'm learning today:

102 (Loved Sinner):

I can’t understand God’s grace or love as a Holy God who would get Himself dirty to love us. It takes grace to understand grace.

It’s hard for me to admit I’m a poor sinner because I’m afraid of 1) being disarmed and unable to control what God sees when he chooses to love me and 2) being rejected for making mistakes. This is mostly why I resist God’s love.

When I resist, I’m like a prostitute who is being loved truly. I resist it, can’t believe it and reject it. I want limited, controlled, somewhat distant love. What I really want, however, is deep love for who I am, but I put my arms out to reject quite often.

God is for me, not ever against me. God is love. He started the reconciliation process between he and I. He also waits on the porch while we are away from home and then jumps off of it to come after us while we are slowly wandering on a road we hope will lead home. He embraces us with a passionate kiss, dirties his own clothes with that embrace and so confounds our understanding of how deep, far, wide and intense love is.

Geri, Meet Facebook

With only four days left in Budapest, we are saying our fair share of "goodbye's." Everyday we wake up, sometimes in a panic, and think, "Ok, did we say 'bye' to 'him' or 'her'...Oh! And what about 'them'?" It's as if we have some sort of sick Christmas list where we cross off the people to whom we've bid adieu. Last Sunday my friend Geri came over to wish us well on our journey and share some French press coffee with us. Geri and I have had many conversations about many topics--politics, hiking, European culture--but I never imagined our last conversation would revolve around friendship within Facebook.

Geri and I have been practicing our respective English and Hungarian speaking skills over coffee with each other for almost a year. Since my Hungarian is about as solid as the Euro and Geri is a beginner-level English speaker, we've both needed the practice. But this Sunday, with much-needed help from caffeine, we spoke freely and with ease about what it means to be a friend in Hungary and on Facebook.

"I don't understand," Geri said while shaking his head and hands simultaneously, "I have a friend, I see him on street or at home, why this cyber world?" Hungarians and Americans define friendship differently. The analogy we often hear and use is one of a peach and a cantaloupe. Americans are like the peach: Easy to access on the outside, but once you get to the core it's much harder to break in. Hungarians are like a cantaloupe: There is a hard outer shell that's difficult to break through, but when you do it's sweet and much softer inside. So you can see why, once you're in, Hungarians take friendship seriously and don't call just anyone their "friend."

Given our fruity analogy, it's easy to see just how American Facebook really is. Everyone can be your friend, in fact you can have thousands of friends--the more, the better! You can sink your teeth into everyone's soft outer skin, "liking" their music, movie or political preferences. It's a hyper-extension of the person behind the keyboard who is constantly updating and refining their internet avatar. Just how real is the person you see on Facebook? Well, that's a question that both Hungarians, philosophers and anyone who has ever thought about dating a potential Facebook "catch" has asked.

It's not that Hungarians aren't on Facebook, because many are, it's just not for Geri. "Where is life, it's right here...You and me." Geri was making his point about the present and it's place in a friendship. Through out our Sunday morning coffee date, Geri made his case for "real friendship" versus "hyper-real friendship." It wasn't an annoying or overbearing attack on something new, like an old man would complain about a new street that brings too much traffic through his neighborhood, it was simply an appeal for life to be enjoyed right now, in the moment.

Instead of refining his circle of friends as those who are "close friends, family" or just "coworkers," Geri prefers to cultivate close friendships over coffee, attend family birthday celebrations and get to know his coworkers at work. What I love about Geri's detachment from Facebook is how genuinely real it makes him. When we're talking about how much we love the coffee we're drinking, he doesn't whip out his smartphone to tell dozens of pseudo-friends about it. Whenever Geri celebrates Christmas with his family in twenty-some-odd days, he won't leave the table to tweet about the outstanding goulash his Mama made. Geri is simply here, with his friends and family, not "out there" promoting his avatar on Facebook or Twitter.

Geri has taught me a lot about being grounded. "How many friends do you have in the US," he asked me just before he left. Because I know Geri, I didn't feel the need to impress him with some great number. "Three, maybe four close ones," I answered, constantly reevaluating in my mind the ones I can truly call friends. Geri simply nodded his head, finished the last of his coffee and smiled.

Hospitality and the "Pop-In"

Hungary has taught us how to be spontaneous. The other night our friend Dáni Hamar came by to pick something up and hang out for a few minutes. As we stood in our entry way, talking about the change in weather and the boat trip we recently took together, Dáni’s brother, Dávid, called. It turned out Dávid was just down the street and Dáni wanted to know if his brother could pop in for a minute.

Now Let me pause the story here. Honesty is a quality we both admire and sometimes loathe in our Hungarian friends; it depends on the situation and what they are being honest about. But that night, as Dáni hung up the phone and waited for his brother to arrive, he made an honest inquiry about whether we could host the two Hungarian brothers for dinner. His boldness in asking us to host a meal on such short notice was both endearing and exciting!

Luckily for the brothers Hamar, Allie had already planned on whipping up some Tex-Mex for the evening. So there we were, two Americans rushing around the kitchen, eager to show our Hungarian friends that we too can be hospitable. When Dávid walked through the door, Allie was preparing chicken tacos with beans and rice, while I took the cork out of our best bottle of wine. We all stood in our kitchen, sipping wine and laughing as we told stories and waited for our impromptu supper.

The meal was a hit! Allie hit a home run, which is no surprise to anyone who knows her. Through out supper our conversation was only interrupted by, “mmmm” or “Ha! This is so good--Nagyon finom, Allie (very delicious, Allie)!”

Afterwards, we sat with our elbows on the table and reclined into more casual conversation. I kept thinking, “This moment was brought to you by ‘Spontaneity’.” And it’s true, because if we had said we were too busy or didn’t have enough food for everyone, we would have missed this moment. Nights like that one make me incredibly thankful for Hungarian spontaneity, honesty, hospitality and their appetite for life.

Cold War Kids: Mine is Yours

One of the drawbacks to living overseas is IP restriction. For example, if you want to watch a late-night movie on NetFlix or listen to free music on Pandora, you will find an unnerving message awaiting you: “Due to licensing restrictions, we cannot allow you to watch/listen to this awesome site you once greatly enjoyed in the US--have a terrible day.” The first time Pandora recognized my European IP address and slammed its cyber-door, I scrambled to find alternatives for sampling new music. Thankfully, I stumbled upon Jango.com and there found the new album by the Cold War Kids, Mine is Yours.

The Cold War Kids were wedged in between Cage the Elephant and The Black Keys on Jango’s “alternative” station. Their “alternative” sound is exactly why I love CWK. Lead singer Nathan Willet’s unconventionally high voice and penetrating melodies are a perfect match for guitarist Jonnie Russell’s jagged riffs. The Kids from Long Beach, CA manage to channel Southern blues with triumphant soul searching and pulsing rhythms. Though they've not yet won awards for their creative efforts, their latest album establishes CWK as an unsuspecting talent with stories to tell.

In Mine is Yours, Willet and company get much more personal than their last two studio LP’s. Songs like “Louder Than Ever” and “Mine is Yours” portray a journey away from love and back into its arms again. Instead of detached, third-person storytelling, Willet sings about “I” and “you.” In “Louder Than Ever,” he reflects, “I was takin’ you for granted, you were holding the reigns, but I can hear you louder than ever.” The simple switch to first person opens up CWK for inspection and allows listeners to connect with Willet’s winding path.

When I listen to Mine is Yours, I hear someone who has traveled the globe, tapped into the full spectrum of human emotions and lived to sing about it. And after the last few years, it's a surprise to many that CWK is singing at all. Following the huge success of their first album (Robbers & Cowards), the Kids received scathing reviews for their sophomore album (Loyalty to Loyalty). The effort was criticized as sloppy, loose and devoid of any real substance. In an interview with RELEVANT Magazine, Willet admits to selling his own bandmates short by closing himself off and "not stepping out and saying something" in their earlier efforts.

The darkness, confusion and even criticism of their second album seems to have laid the groundwork for something more authentic. The result is a weathered, yet brighter, musical expression, one that I can respect. The song "Finally Begin" betrays the wounded heart of an artist who faces the cold, cruel world and is left with a decision. "Do I open up my arms wide and learn to trust again or keep my eyes to the floor and just look out for myself?"

It’s risky being an artist. Art asks you to put yourself “out there” for the masses to either empathize or criticize, understand or scorn and various shades in between. I appreciate CWK’s boldness in sharing their experiences, especially since they were at first hesitant to do so. It takes a lot of guts and talent to use music to tell a story, especially your own. Even so, the Cold War Kids' emotional investment on this album gives us something deeper than story, where narrative and experience intersect: real life.

Bence, meet Starbucks

Two weeks ago I met my friend Bence for coffee. The last time we met, we watched the Dallas Mavericks beat the Heat in a replay of the NBA Finals. Since our prior meeting had us feeling “quite American,” we agreed to meet at a newly-built Starbucks for a cup of Joe.

Inside the Starbucks at Király Utca (“King Street”), Bence was eager with curiosity. “I’ve never had Starbucks before, so this will be a first,” he said in a barely-excited rhythm fit for 9:30am. Unbeknownst to Bence, his morning was about to get very interesting when Hungarian and American cultures would engage in an awkward head-on collision.

Bence reluctantly dished out the money for over-priced coffee and was then asked, “And what’s your name?” The question caught him off guard and in a double take he replied, “tessék (“excuse me”)? He had already given too much money for coffee that ranks about average in Budapest, but Bence wasn’t sure he wanted to give his name to Lady Starbucks as well. Asking for someone’s name is just as personal as asking, “How are you,” and it doesn’t happen here as a passing gesture. All the same, he relented and the strangely friendly barista scribbled his name on the cup.

“What was that about,” Bence turned to me and asked. Now I had some explaining to do. Because my wife was once a fully-indoctrinated Starbucks barista, I was able to draw from my well of Starbucks corporate and consumer culture.

I explained that most Americans don’t sit down for a three-hour cup of coffee (which is common in Hungary) and so asking someone’s name puts a personal touch on an otherwise impersonal transaction. Cue the blank stare. I went on to tell Bence about the “third place,” a setting that isn’t home or work but a place where “community happens.” “You see, Bence, Americans go from home, to car, to office and so they need a place where they can actually interact with one another,” I said as we made our way to an air-conditioned lounge area.

I could tell that Bence’s head was still spinning. In Hungary, community is one of the primary values of the culture. We often have people apologize to us for being able to “only” spend two hours over tea, coffee or a beer. Even when you are growing plants on your balcony, everyone in the building will have an opinion on how they should be watered and taken care of. As opposed to America, one must work hard to separate themselves from community in Budapest.

Eventually Bence settled into his comfortable chair and enjoyed his first Starbucks coffee. We had a great conversation, talked about sports, music and international politics. But the best part of our time that morning took place when we left the American coffeehouse. For the next two hours Bence led me on a walk through the city. Much like our meandering conversation, we wandered about and simply enjoyed the cool, morning air.

Bence taught me that I don’t need a building to have community. All I need is people, time and genuine interest. As a timesaving, on-the-go American, I have gained a lot from Hungarians. And if we leave Hungary next year, I hope I can take back with me Bence’s high appraisal of community. I hope I can still schedule coffee appointments with no agenda or impending meeting. I pray I can make space for people to interrupt my schedule, even if it means paying four bucks for over-roasted coffee—for community, it’s worth it.

Video: "You're Never Giving Up"

This song has been wrecking my heart for months now. Ever since I've found Jonathan David Helser's music I've been in touch with someone who uses worship music to sincerely connect with the living God. As someone who is now leading worship, it's a constant challenge to put my heart out there and have it be something genuine that I am singing to God and leading other people to worship through.

Because the past year and four months has been one in which I have often questioned, "Is God really here for me; Will He leave me this time," this song has broken me with the reminder of God's unending love.

Watch the video above and let me know what you think. What spoke to you about the song? Which words touched your heart?

Listen to the King

When the NBA Finals kicked off, I swore I wouldn’t be one of “those guys” who cheered for the Mavs simply to spite the Heat. Though Lebron James has done enough to make people criticize him from afar (see here and here) and the Miami fans are rumored to be the worst in the NBA (according to Charles Barkley’s trustworthy opinion), rooting against a team--or player--seems to suck the fun out of sports and replace it with bitterness. Even with all of this well-reasoned basketball moralizing, I caved in by Game Six and caught myself hoping for a Heat loss.

I turned sour towards the Heat after I saw a video with Dwayne Wade and Lebron mocking Dirk Nowitzki. I don’t watch a lot of Mavs basketball, but while we visited our family in the Dallas I was able to catch the Western Conference Finals. Dirk played incredibly and with great character, doing little, if any, trash talking. So when it was reported that Dirk played sick and with a fever against the Heat in Game Four of the Finals, I was impressed! The Heat, not so much. Apparently Wade and Lebron thought his sickness was a little feigned and that the media blew it out of proportion--hence the video linked above.

Whatever their reason for poking fun at Dirk, the whole incident was arrogant and, in Dirk’s own words, “childish.” So I decided from that moment on to cheer against the Heat (oh yeah, and for the Mavs). What was I looking for in a Mavs win? For Wade and Lebron to be put in their place, to learn their lesson and recognize the higher road of integrity. In two words: too much.

I became like so many sports fans who put entirely too much stock in a game. In wanting “justice” for Dirk and heaping contempt on Wade and Lebron, I was acting no better than the European soccer hooligans I hear so much about, who fight and maim “football” players--on the home or visiting team--for winning or losing. All of the negative energy is tied to an unmerciful and unforgiving attitude. So I cannot help but wonder, what does my so-called defense-of-Dirk say about me?

When the Heat finally lost Game Six, Lebron was asked if it bothered him that so many people were hoping he would fail? He answered,

“Absolutely not, because at the end of the day, all the people that were rooting on me to fail, at the end of the day, they have to wake up tomorrow and have the same life that they had before they woke up today...They have the same personal problems they had today.” (Brian Mahoney, AP)

I believe I’ve just been told. The uncrowned king has a point. All of us sports fans who hang our entire hopes and hate, cheers and boo’s or dreams and despair on professional sports need to get a life: our own. Lebron exercised outstanding wisdom by sending the hate he so often received back to its rightful owner. My hatred for Lebron, any athlete or team says a lot more about what’s inside of me than it does about someone’s sports performance.

Another King once said, “[O]ut of the overflow of [the] heart [the] mouth speaks.” And, “[H]e who has been forgiven little loves little.” I must admit that I’ve had a tough week and Lebron James made for a perfect whipping boy. On him I could hang my condemnation because it felt good to hurt other people when I was hurting. The times when I am most harsh on my favorite or most hated sports icons are usually those very times when I myself feel hated or condemned.

Lebron is right. I still have this aching heart and imperfect life, even after a Mavs victory. Sports is great for entertainment, but in terms of therapy it can only indicate which problems we have in life; not solve them. Jesus is also right. My reactions to these sports events are a telling barometer for where my heart lies. In the meantime I will continue to watch and enjoy sports. More importantly, I will continue to be thankful for the King who was and is willing to take my scorn, abuse, blows. For the One who through life and death revealed my hatred and then was gracious enough to begin healing it.