I t only took one retailer to push the envelope of Black Friday and turn it into Black Thursday. Last year Macy’s actually opened eight of their stores in larger markets at midnight. This year in our little big town of Lexington, Kentucky, several other retailers followed suit. The news broke about Old Navy opening at midnight, then Walmart, and before you could say tryptophan, most every retailer decided to call off Thanksgiving, yielding to the pressure of retail competition. As a result, thousands of retail workers across the Nation will have make the post-Turkey nap a priority, not a luxury, because they will have to get up and head to work in a few short hours.

There has been essentially two camps on this issue: the eager shoppers who, like the retailers who joined the midnight bandwagon this week, will not be outdone or out-shopped. After all, the new Justin Bieber Christmas CD (that comes with his new eau de parfum) might sell out by Friday. And then there are the old fashioned curmudgeons who think that all of this retail madness is a sign of misplaced values in a day where the material is trumping the substance of real family time. 

Either way one comes out on the issue, it will do no good to blame the big bad retail machine. Martine Reardon, Macy’s Executive VP of Marketing noted, “People want to shop through the night.”  In other words, build a sale and they will come. This is hardly what Governor Bradford of the Plymouth Colony had in mind, but it’s our reality all the same. You won’t find laughter or forgiveness or love for sale at midnight this year, but there will be some pretty nifty replacements like Angry Bird plush toys and Starbuck’s gift sets.

Whether you stay home or hit the movies or grab your shopping bags, or even if you have to go punch the clock,  my prayer for you this Thanksgiving is that you connect. That you find yourself among friends or family, fully known, and fully loved.

With the recent release of Rob Bell’s Love Wins, an age old theological predicament is once again being re-examined. Make no mistake – this debate is nothing new. The internet is abuzz however, and I for one find the dialogue not only fascinating, but healthy.

Some people are ticked off.

Kevin DeYoung from the Christian Post writes:

there are dozens of problems with Love Wins. The theology is heterodox. The history is inaccurate. The impact on souls is devastating. And the use of Scripture is indefensible.

Others are are a little more positive, like Julie Clawson from Sojourners:

Christianity isn’t about being right or wrong, it’s about living joyously and transformativley for Jesus — and this is a message we can all benefit from being reminded of.

What is (arguably) at the center of this debate is the concept of universalism versus traditionalism. In my small corner of the internet I wanted to offer a layperson’s summation and also share how my own journey has been interwoven with this debate for the last 21 years.

There are essentially three theological camps as it concerns the overall approach to God and salvation.

1. Calvanism. This doctrine of election and predestination basically asserts that God will ultimately choose who will be in Heaven and who will be in hell. Some will find themselves separated from God forever.

2. Arminianism. This position holds that free will is a necessary ingredient in the love affair between God and Man. This means that, ultimately, man has a choice to either choose or reject God. (And since God wills for the redemption of all sinners, this means that something that God wants will not occur when souls that go to hell).

3. Universalism. The point of view here is that God wills for every human sinner to come to know Him, and since God will accomplish whatever God sets out to do, and therefore rejects the idea that an eternal separation from God is not possible.

Richard Beck points out that each of these three camps are at least two thirds correct, but in each position there is a fundamental weakness. Each position must either fudge or down play or totally reject a third component. For example, the Calvanist will have a hard time discussing the fact that God’s redemptive love is extended to all sinners (even though this is Biblical). The Arminianist has a hard time resolving the fact that God desires something and doesn’t get it (which implies God is not, well, God!). The Universalist might maintain that God loves all people and will accomplish His purposes, but therefore can not logically say that Hell is eternal (also a Biblical doctrine).

I grew up in a Christian home that taught the Arminian position. Love is a decision, and man was given that decision so that the love between God and man would be authentic. God could have, my Pastor would argue, made a bunch of tin soldiers that did exactly as He willed, but what fun would that be? Come to think of it, my Sunday School teachers kind of downplayed the fact that God’s desires were, in some cases, being thwarted. I had never thought to raise my hand and ask, “If God is in total control and gets what he wants, why is his desire for certain people not fulfilled?”. I can see Mrs. Jenny, my teacher, tilting her head.

When I entered my Senior Year in High School, I began dating a Primitive Baptist Preacher’s daughter. This was my introduction to Calvanism. I recall the first time this position was explained to me and the sheer astonishment that followed. My quick retaliation to this bizarre doctrine was John 3:16; “that whosoever believeth”. “Ah,” said my Calvanist girlfriend (who was admittedly more versed in the Bible than I was), “but ‘whosoever’ has already been worked out by our Creator, who is larger and greater than any of us.”
This was true. I couldn’t argue that point. The idea that God was omnitemporal and omniscient were not foreign concepts even in my Arminian household. He is, after all, I am. The creator of the Heavens and the Earth and the entire Milky Way is but a footstool for Him.
At the very least, I thought, the idea that God already knows the end of the story for each of us makes perfect sense. He does not inhibit our time line, therefore time-laden thinking does not apply to God.
Further evidence in Romans 9 sealed me as a skeptic to what I had been taught my whole life. Perhaps we had put too much emphasis of man’s choices at the center of the story. Wasn’t God’s will supreme over man’s whims? I mean really, my whims change according to the weather, my serotonin levels, and what’s in my stomach!
I struggled with these three concepts for many years. I eventually came to believe that there were threads of truth in each position but none of them captured the whole picture. But that’s the beauty of it. You can’t put God into an equation. He will be the picture of wrath and the picture of love at the same time. The Lion and the Lamb. The God who chose Jacob and rejected Eseau, the God who sat at the table with sinners. He is the compassion embodied in the raising of a girl from the dead and the terror of a madman overturning tables in the courtyard. He is the God whose feet dripped with tears and perfume, and forgave the prostitute when the Pharisees wouldn’t dare touch her.

The present debate is certainly heated. John Piper says, “Farewell, Rob Bell,” shunning him and denying him fellowship because of his universalist language. For many, the idea of universalism negates such scriptures as Romans 8:10-11, Daniel 12:2, and John 6:47. Is the Greek word “aionion” something to reconsider? Is there contextual nuances that might suggest it means “for a time”, as opposed to “for all time”? I would have to ask smarter men about such things.

I write all of this before reading Bell’s book. But having lived out the struggles of this theological debacle for many years, I can say this with full conviction: what matters most to me is how my theology translates to my actions. If I err too far on the side of the strict Calvanist, I will not be compelled to share the Gospel. If I err too far on the side of the devout Universalist, I will become complacent about the reality of hell. Most of all, I want to love my neighbor in a transforming and radical way. I think this pleases God most. And in that respect, I agree with Rob Bell: Love Wins.

Trials test us. It is in the eye of the storm where we find what we are made of, isn’t it? It is at our lowest moments when we discover if our faith is a house of stone and mortar or a house of cards.
It is one thing to say to a friend who has lost a spouse, “She is with God,” and it is quite another to believe when you have lost your first son, “I will see him again.”
My first son.
Those words are hard to write, and even harder to wrap my head around. I didn’t get to hold him, or get to know his personality. A friend of mine said about this loss “[in Heaven] you will take long walks with him.” When I read this my heart fluttered. Not just because of the beautiful imagery, but because it made me nervous to think of what I’d say to him.

According to the deepest beliefs at my core, this is what happened to Ethan. He came into being at conception, and God oversaw the knitting together of his little body. At ten weeks, his heart stopped, and Ethan’s soul, at once, left Tasha’s womb and Ethan took up residence in Heaven. This also means that Ethan went from minimal or no consciousness in the womb to a state of knowing that far surpasses my own. He has gazed on the face of Jesus, and he has experienced freedom where Tasha and I are still under such mortal restrictions as time, physical bodies, and worst of all, sin and separation from our Creator (even though we have an intercession through Jesus, it’s not quite what Ethan is experiencing).
Talk about a Dad feeling a little inadequate! Ethan can see all of time and can dash from one corner of the Milky Way to the other. He can walk on clouds and swirl stardust with his fingers. He is not constrained by a physical body and he never worries about things like death. He has seen Eden restored. He is pure light, and ethereal.
I can barely program a DVD player, and I’m afraid of spiders.
By the time Ethan and I take that walk though, I suppose I should give myself some credit and realize I too will have experienced redemption and will no longer have my Earthly limitations.
In my dreams last night I saw this walk, in a pasture of colors that do not even exist here.
“I thought while in the old Eden that you had missed so much,” I say to him, “and I realize now I was wrong.”
“It’s so hard,” he says, “to imagine anything other than Earthly things when you are there.”
“But look now!” I exclaim, “look at this!”.
We look at tall grasses of luminous green swaying in a breeze. A horizon of gold and purple seems to move, as if God were painting as we talked.
“I know,” he says, smiling. The breeze catches his blond hair and it dances on top of his head.
“I would have made mistakes as your Father,” I say.
“You did with everyone there, but that has all passed away.”
We walk and we talk and we laugh. We lack nothing. There is no misunderstanding, no heartache, and no fear of what tomorrow will bring.
One day, Ethan and I will take this walk.
And today, it fills my heart with joy, as I wait with full hope.

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. 1 Thessalonians 4:13

I hesitated about writing this post, although it is on my heart and, I think, timely for our current struggles in interpersonal communication. My hesitation was that I didn’t want so-and-so, or so-and-so, to read this and think that I was passively aggressively talking about them in a blog post.
I’m only beginning to warm up to the fact that my family has a history of passive aggressiveness. Trying to be a cycle breaker, I am beginning to speak my mind even though sometimes it scares the ever-loving crap out of me.
A buzz phrase that has been lingering around for a few years now you may have noticed is “being fully present”. This is the art of living not in the past or in the future but right now. It is also the art of mindfulness. David Allen, the author of Getting Things Done, helped bring the idea of mindfulness front and center in our culture by sharing an old martial arts ideology “mind like water”. In plain English, this means keeping our balance in a chaotic world. Allen asserted that if we learned to organize our life effectively, we could stop the incessant to do lists rattling around in our heads while we are sitting in front of a friend or a loved one.
Have you seen that blank stare in someone’s eyes before as you were talking? They are two feet away but their mind is in east Kansas, thinking about something else. Work, kids, what they’re going to say after you shut up, or maybe wondering if you’re going to shut up. We’ve all been on the receiving end of this communicative middle finger and it’s not a lot of fun.
Now. What about when you’re mid-sentence in a conversation and the person across from you is looking down at their smart phone? We’ve all probably been in this position today. It is rampant.
The blank stare has been around since David mentally checked out on Bathsheba while she droned on and on about how the camels were particularly grumpy today and the sand storm totally ruined her entire day’s wash.
The smart phone scenario has been around for only a decade. It’s actually brand spanking new in the bigger scheme of things, and I suspect an awakening will take place in the not-so-distant future where our culture will recognize what’s happening and push back against it. Soon (I hope) it will be serious faux pas to have your phone out in view while in the presence of another person. Period.
The obvious irony is that these devices were meant to connect us – to bring us all closer; and yet I believe that unless monitored closely, it can become the greatest hindrance in communication our modern age has ever seen.
We’ve all been guilty of iSnubbing, and I’m no exception to the rule. But lately I have been evaluating the kind of information I am gaining while ignoring the presence of another person. Here’s a short list of some of that invaluable info:

1. Alex “likes” the band U2. Good to know.
2. Jacob just moved in our game of “Words with Friends” with the word borborgymi. He’s clearly cheating.
3. John took a picture of his lunch before digging in. That’s a nice looking gorganzola stuffed chicken breast!
4. Stacie is having another manic Monday with a pile of laundry staring at her.
5. Shelly’s chicks in Farmville were hatched! What a relief! I had stayed up many a night worried that the Farmville wolves would come and steal them away.

My work has a no email Wednesday. Unless it is a dire emergency, emails are off limits. I’m thinking about leaving my iPhone on the charger that day as well. No phone, no email, and no distractions. Are we really having to re-learn how to be “fully present”? My Grandparents would seriously laugh at this. I can hear my Granny saying, “Fully present? Where else would you be?”.
Where are you? Would those closest to you say that you’re showing up?
I am motivated by this one idea: when someone feels like you really – I mean really – care about them, and they feel like they’re not alone in their struggles, being fully present is a no brainer.
Today after writing this post I saw this commercial…even Windows is getting it.

My recent post about joy prompted another thought today.  What does God desire for us?  When we are running from God, what are we missing? What does He desire for our live? 

Honor his holy name with Hallelujahs, you who seek God. Live a happy life! (Psalm 105:3)

Often we get tricked into thinking that a Holy life is what we “ought to do” as opposed to something  we “get to do”.  Without noticing it, we can begin to talk about spiritual disciplines like prayer and Bible study in the same manner in which we talk about mowing the lawn.  It’s not our first choice, but it ought to be done and sure, it feels good to get it accomplished in the end.  But is this what God had in mind?

Consider for a moment that our vision is often short-sighted.  We know that this life will have it’s hardships – in fact is it promised to us.  But what about the promised joy? Do we forget that in the midst of our spiritual disciplines there is a connection, a purity of heart, and an unspeakable joy that the pleasures we often chase simply can’t touch? Is this not what our Father most enjoys? (Psalm 30:5). One of my favorite quotes from Lewis brings about amazing literary imagery: 

“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” -C.S. Lewis (Weight of Glory and Other Addresses)

All too often I am that child, playing in the slums. I am seeking pleasure when joy is being offered. What am I missing when I am out of sync with God? What are you missing?

O n my short drive to work this morning I was met with an instantaneous encounter with pure joy. I’m not sure what triggered it, but just as quickly as the feeling came it subsided into a calm, reflective mood about my life here on Earth. My mind then quickly jumped to other moments like this in my past. I could probably count these moments on two hands. These encounters with joy were sometimes obvious, like my wedding, and sometimes random.

Racing blades of grass down the street gutters of Severn Way after a soaking rain.

The smell of sawdust in my Father’s workshop.

Baptizing a little girl who had discovered the truth about Jesus.

One of these moments happened when I was in college. It was a late afternoon and I was half walking, half running down the men’s dorm hallway. I was headed to Jim Howard and Rob Ray’s room. I had just left a water fight outside with several people and was soaking wet. Everything was in sync at that moment. The rhythm of my life was in perfect time. I had no secrets, and my heart was free of worry.
What struck me about that particular moment in a dingy college dorm hallway was not only the ordinariness of it but that I recognized it as pure joy, and I knew then that I would never forget it. And I haven’t.

I am reminded today that these moments are merely a glimpse of what is to come. I was created for something more than this world has to offer, and only once in a while do I smell the slightest fragerance of Heaven. A single rose can have twenty thorns on the stem. Doesn’t that seem to be the ratio of life?

So if you catch yourself wondering why things are so hard, or why you are lonely, or why you can’t catch a break, consider for a moment that you weren’t made for this place. You were made for so much more and your heart knows it.
We are just passing through, living out of a suitcase and a messanger bag. We weren’t meant to live alongside cruelty, malice, or oppression. We weren’t meant to get comfortable with poverty or war.

Don’t get too comfortable. Don’t mistake this hotel room for the mansion.

I n examining my spiritual walk I have been coming back to these questions often: Do I have a teachable heart? Can someone easily approach and perhaps correct me? Do I have a spirit of humilty? I have come to regard these questions as true indicators of the barometer of my spiritual health.

Consider this passage in Hebrews:

Though he was God’s Son, he [Jesus] learned trusting-obedience by what he suffered, just as we do. -Hebrews 5:8 (MSG)

I was a little surprised by this passage. I had never thought of Christ as having a teachable heart. He was certainly humble, but he was also learning just like you and me?
This makes Christ more accessible. While it is easy and even comfortable to focus on the Messiah as God in the flesh, perfect in every way, it is I believe important that we relate to His humanity. He didn’t show up on the scene with all the answers according to Hebrews. He doubted in the Garden of Gathsemane, he wept over Lazarus’ passing, and he became enraged at the entrance to Herod’s temple. I can imagine Joseph showing his son how to plane a piece of lumber so that the edge is true. Jesus was human, for a time, and we miss so much if we overlook this.

Another passage in the book of Mark helps clarify the importance of the teachable heart.

People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” -Mark 10: 13-15 (NIV)

What is so beautiful about children is their lack of pretension. They are masters at pretending, and yet they do not pretend to have all the answers. As we grow up, we get a little funny about this. Studies have shown that when someone is asked in a survey to share their opinion on a topic they know absolutely nothing about, they will still offer an opinion. The reason? They do not want to appear uninformed or unintelligent! Isn’t that hilarious? It reminds me of when an innocent bystander is caught by a CNN reporter. All of the sudden their vocabulary rivals a Yale professor. Sometimes I’ll listen to these interviews and paraphrase in my head what the person just said, translating it to a non-live-interview kind of setting.

“We tried to ascertain the the victim’s condition and determined that all vital signs had ceased.”
Turn the cameras off and it becomes, “That dude was dead!”.

Ask a child’s opinion on a topic and they will most certainly be honest with you, even if that means saying, “I have no idea what you’re talking about…does this have anything to do with ice cream or fire trucks?”.

I challenge you today to consider that you don’t know very much, and to look at this World through the eyes you had as a child. Open yourself up. Become malleable, and seek Jesus. Be transformed.

The way of a fool seems right to him, but a wise man listens to advice. Proverbs 12: 15 (NIV)

I once heard a man say, “I am not my own and on my own I am not enough.” Another quote I’ve never forgotten came from a nurse in Calcutta: “Lonliness is the leprosy of our society, and no one wants anyone to know they’re a leper.”
We have found ourselves in an interesting age of individualism. The media that bombards us every waking moment suggests that we can do life on our own. Sinatra did it “his way” and Burger King tells us to have it “our own way”.

The result is an epidemic of lonliness. We are becoming shut in to our homes with every convenience at our fingertips. Tweeting about our latest mood or Facebooking for hours on end, we have started to buy in to the idea that our Blackberry or iPhone is connecting us.
A hundred years ago you couldn’t do life on your own. No one was telecommuting, and pizza wasn’t delivered to your front door. Communities survived on…community. Texting your latest mood wasn’t an option. Have you really stopped lately to consider what a poor replacement texting is for face-to-face, real conversation? When did we become comfortable with watered down acronyms like OMG and ROTFL? Really, when was the last time you literally fell to the floor laughing? My guess is that you weren’t alone when it happened.

Consider the Jewish day in Jesus’ time, which began at 6:00 pm. The very beginning of their day consisted of a meal, and community. Connectedness around a table of food. This was followed by rest, or, sabbayat, and finally work. The priority here was a shared life with others.
The Church I attend is large. By large I mean 11,000 people worshipping on the weekend. This makes the Church a target for skeptics and conspiracy theorists. “That place is too big,” and “You couldn’t really get to know anyone,” are common remarks.
Aside from Jon Weece’s quip (the Minister), “if you don’t like large Churches, you’re gonna hate heaven”, which is hilarious, I want to challenge the notion that a large Church is a cold Church. No one ever seems to say the same thing about our Nation’s greatest Universities. You never hear “Yale is a great school but it’s just too large,” or “I’d go to Boston University but man, 32,00 students is just way too many!”. We don’t expect to get to know every student in our college experience, but don’t you find a core group you eventually call family?
Does someone turn down a good job at Toyota or Google saying, “that company is too big – I’ll never get to know everyone!”.
Out of the crowd you eventually find a group you get to know, and in that group burdens and joys are owned by everyone.
I read an article about rampant lonliness in the United States recently that made my heart heavy. I don’t know of any other affliction in the human condition that could be worse, and also so easily curable.
If you have community, consider yourself blessed. Are you looking for the lonely and reaching out?
If you don’t have community in your life, will you take a step out of the darkness?
Romans 12:13 says:

Share with God’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. (NIV)

Instead of leaving you with just thoughts and ideas, I want to leave you with an opportunity to reach out and do something. Whether you have community or you are seeking community, use the form below and I will connect with you. If you live even remotely close to Central Kentucky, I would love to meet you and hear your story. We can grab a cup of coffee at that mega Church.
Let’s do life together.
[contact-form-7]
You can also find me on Skype, Facebook, Twitter, or by email. I know this sounds ironic, but I try to use these tools as a way to connect us, not sustain us.

W hen it begins to storm in your life, where do you turn? I am asking this question to both believers and skeptics. The storms will come. Do you have an umbrella?

A Doctor uses the word “cancer”. A Spouse uses the word “affair”. Your child calls home from a jail cell. An ER physician says she did all she could.

Does suffering look any different for the person who has an active faith? Is the man who calls on God comforted any more than the man who relies on himself?

I was wrestiling with this question when I came across a passage from C.S. Lewis, who scribbled the following in a journal during the most trying time of his life (his Wife had just died of cancer):

“Talk to me about the truth of religion and I’ll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I’ll listen submissively. But don’t come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don’t understand.” (Lewis, A Grief Observed)

Often people in Churches will say they are doing just fine in the midst of the storm. Maybe you’ve seen one of them before. Their whole life has crumbled around them and they put on this face and talk about peace that passes understanding and, if you are human, wonder if they have lost their mind or if they’re on a healthy dose of valium. And here we have in the above passage one of the greatest theological minds of the 20th Century completely unraveling. You get the sense that he is not speaking into his journal, but shouting.

A friend of mine is 33 years old. Until this year he has lived at home with his parents. Not because he is unsuccesful and unable to leave the nest, but because his family is close and rooted in a deep and abiding love. In fact, this friend is very successful as an audio engineer. Tens of thousands hear his work every week on radio, television and on podcasts. He could have made his own home long before now but he had been waiting for his Bride.
Last year he met her. His first and only true love. Now, to give you an idea of the kind of purity I’m writing about, my friend had not kissed any other woman until he found her. This fact alone makes me blush at the recklessness of my own younger days.

A story book romance unfolded and crescendoed with a beautiful wedding in the rolling hills of Kentucky’s countryside. The ignited love between these two souls could be seen from space. My friend went from the home he grew up in to a new home. A home he had built for his very own family, and she was his crown jewel.

Nineteen days later his Bride collapsed in the bathroom one morning and she never woke up. A pulmonary embilism took her young life. Senselessly.
Nineteen days after putting a wedding band on her finger, he was in the ER saying his final goodbye. He kissed her lips and slipped the ring off. He now wears that ring on his pinky.

There is a kind of life storm that I can not fathom. Stories like this not only defy logic, they make a strong case for our Universe being void of any benevolence or design or purpose. But then I consider how my friend has responded to this tragedy.

For starters, he did not put the barrel of a .38 in his mouth and pull the trigger. He also didn’t fake it, making a show of his circumstance and proudly proclaiming that he was “just fine with Jesus”.
Instead he fell to his knees and surrendered to God – the same God he was already in a deep relationship with. The same God that he, in fact, loved more than his Bride. His submissive cry was, “Not my will, but yours.”

“I am with you,” was the response.

And all this, while still in the ambulance racing through the morning traffic.

My friend found the will to breathe in and out. To eventually go back to the new but empty nest he had fashioned. He told me of one of the nights after the funeral, visiting in her hometown of Louisiana. He was staying at the house she grew up in. Late that night, he had crawled into her childhood closet, in a ball, and cried himself to sleep.

There is no doubt he is forever changed. He is an amputee. Part of him will not grow back. But through him, this God he calls upon, will prepare the way for love and will reach other people through this suffering. In fact, the evidence suggests that my friend was chosen. He clearly had what it took to survive such a story as this and out of the ashes there would come beauty. His faith was tested. Did he really believe the whole Bible story? If so, then his Bride had already won. It was the rest of us, left here, that we should mourn. She had crossed over, into perfection.

Even my own marriage was impacted by these events. The night of his bride’s funeral, I held my own Wife’s hand a little tighter. I hugged her a little longer, and I drew closer to God as I cried out to Him to ease my friend’s pain. I thought to myself, “I will never take her for granted. Ever.” And I haven’t.

Some storms will forever change us. They will impact others around us in unforeseen ways. Does the person that walks with God have it easier? No, I don’t think so.

There really isn’t a way out of the storm, but there is a way through.

–
My friend, JR, has been gracious enough to respond in depth to this Post, which I will publish in a few weeks.

It occured to me about three months ago that my mind was probably on it’s slow and steady decline. Lord willing I still have the best years in front of me. But as it concerns memories, I felt this sense of panic, as if I had better sit down right then and there and start writing down everything in my life that mattered. I imagined myself trying to do this excercise at the age of 67 and it prompted me to grab my Moleskin and start writing.

1972. Born. UK Hospital. Come home to Lily Court. The world is strangely black and white.

There was little more I could put down for this year. I could have noted that Nixon was President and that the Munich Summer Olympics were marred by some of Arafat’s cronies who murdered eleven Israeli athletes, but then that wouldn’t have been very personal.

1973. Not much more here…possibly object permenancy?

I always wondered how scientists came up with the object permenancy thing. How did they figure out for sure that at a certain point a baby is conscious of the fact that when you leave the room that you still exist. This seems tricky because apparantly it occurs before language or long term memory.

I wrote down a year per page from 1972 to 2010, and started filling in the white space with whatever came to mind. Sometimes the memories came with time stamps, sometimes not. Quickly this journal excercise turned into investigative reporting. Luckily we live in the age of Facebook and Twitter, which meant that I could contact the girl I chased through the playground in 3rd grade and ask her if it was the Summer of ’80 or ’81 when she showed me the distinct differences between girls and boys.

My motives at first seemed straight forward. I simply wanted to capture everything I could remember before it slipped further into the chasms of my brain where recall was unlikely. But as I looked at this time map, I realized that maybe I would gain some other benefits. It was possible that I might gain some insight. Or even clarity.

A time map of 38 years might produce some answers. Looking at the bigger picture, I might see a trajectory, or a pattern. Did my 2nd grade teacher really turn me off from Education for twenty some years or was it something else? Did the fact that I sat the bench on a Church basketball league lead me to the self-destructive behavior I exhibited during most of the 90′s? How much damage did Bible college really do to my spiritual formation?

Or even worse, what if I could find no answers at all? Or what if only chaos came out of all this…chaos?

My journey re-connected me with some old friends. I found myself Christmas shopping at the Mall where I grew up with my closest childhood friend Chris. He had turned into a soulful, compassionate man with a heart for Jesus – which thrilled me. And yet a few others came out of the woodwork that reminded me why I was so glad to leave High School.

Staring at the 2010 page, I have written down a few things but without the benefit of hindsight. It takes time to know how an event will echo in your life. It has to take root in your consciousness and then over time it will produce either a flower or a weed. Do I have any more control over that process now that I’m in my 30′s (ok late 30′s) and hopefully a little wiser than when I was eighteen?

I look at the pages following 2010 and wonder where it will come to an end. 2053? 2011? It’s enough to make me turn off the television and go outside; to surprise my Wife, or call my Mother. Or to buy a total stranger’s groceries in the line behind me at Kroger. The most exciting thing to me is this: while much of life might happen to me, I can create much of what goes down on the rest of these pages.

Share one of your memories with me – or one you intend on making this year. Comments are below.