so what’s next? since you must know…

we must keep moving.

what happens today remains good for today, but continue to graduate into more. laws of nature dictate we in the animal kingdom will move from order to disorder: we are born up and then begin our fall into decay, wrapping up in our inevitable demise. this will veritably occur in each portion of ourselves if we do not make intentional actions towards improvement. allow me to expand: if i stop exercising, i mentally move into a place of lethargy and eventually grow lax on my good dietary aspirations (in other words, my cravings for celery slowly give way to an insatiable appetite for cookie dough). at this point, it is only a matter of days before i loose all desire to wear running shoes and watch my body swell with l-b’s. if i neglect my curiosity and the many unread books on my shelf (or in my case, in a pile on my floor, for i do not own shelving), i quickly find myself indulging in forms of entertainment that turn my mind to mush: reality tv and aimless internet searches. my normal efforts to counteract thermodynamics’ curse of entropy in my life puts me on a constant course of relentless treading. routine maintenance rather bores me, and it usually ends in some existential crises where i wonder “what is it all really for?” and i can easily settle into a comfortable place of indifference regarding the present.

thus the same course could easily ensnare me with regard to my life experiences: i went to thailand, had a robust time, and now i carry around my picture book and journal full of “this is from that one time i went after God’s best for my life.” i do not want this to be the case. i will not let it be the case. God’s desire for us is not to merely live good lives, but to live abundantly. as i remain active–actively allowing Him to pour His grace out on my life and actively pursuing after His love and power–i continually step into more life, into abundance. my part is to answer the invite, “come, follow Me,” with either an “i will go” or a “no thanks, i’m good.”

well i say: yes please.

for me, this entails physical relocation. as my spirit and mind keeping running, so must my heart go with them. and seeing as my heart is very much connected to all my other anatomical features, my body must also move. so we come to the question stirring on all of the tips of your tongues: what are you going to do next?

texas.

fort worth, texas, to be exact.

the convergence school of supernatural ministry in fort worth, texas, to really answer your question.

before you start your skeptical inquiries into the name of the school and begin wondering if i have enrolled in hogwarts and received a wand upon registration, i must assure you, i kind of have. not in the fantastical sort of way that only exists in children’s  novels (though walking through the wardrobe to meet mr. tumnus at the lamppost has always been a real dream of mine), but of the same type that exists in a very real way in books such as genesis, 1 samuel, acts, revelation and the like–you know, in the bible. if you examine your belief regarding God, i assume most of you would agree on the characteristic supernatural, yes? furthermore, you may also agree that His actions in your lives are often supernatural in nature. oh good–me, too. i do not want my life to be full of my own plowing efforts against sin and sickness, i want God to use me supernaturally (there’s that word again) to see His kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. i do not want the laws of nature to be my standard of living, but for God’s glory to be my hope for myself and those around me: to see the sick healed, the dead raised, lepers cleansed and demons cast out. this is what the school goes after: learning how to allow the Holy Spirit to work in the way of His choosing for His glory through my life, wherever i may be and whatever i may do post-hence. i am the Lord’s, and i want to walk with Him.

answering God’s call to come and follow quickly grows in the realm of the impossible, naturally speaking. why? because God love us and He wants our joy to be made full. He calls us to have faith, to trust Him, so He may move us into glory with every step of obedience we take. after writing my application for the school, i prayed with God and said to Him, “i believe this is where You want me to go next, if i’m not hearing You right, then do not let me get in. if i get in, i’m taking that as a green light, and going.” so of course the application takes months to process instead of the expected weeks; of course my summer job opportunities did not rake in the projected dough; of course i did not have the funds for tuition (or even the gas to get to there); of course i had to get new brakes and tires one week before leaving.  and then i am asked point blank: will you still go? He got me in, so i must obey my promise to Him–and go. just in the getting there, this school is already proving to be a bit supernatural.

and so i begin to pack, and a couple people are led to support me with some monetary gifts. i get my ’89 camry in working order, knowing it will take a miracle for kazu to make it these next 1600 miles cross-country. getting into my car, i set out on the journey east (via the central coast to pick up my road companion)–still short for the first tuition payment due in a few days–and drive. somewhere around arizona and new mexico, i check my bank account online: i have enough. no deposits made, there is just more money in my account. of course. we arrive in texas, automobile in full working order. of course. i get a job here less than four days upon settling in. of course. because when God calls, He also equips. and now i know for sure i am where i am supposed to be, with an extra measure of faith as an add-on. all i had to do was walk where He asked.

if this is how He brings me, i cannot imagine what He will do while i am here, except that it will be:

awesome

(and i guess supernatural, too).

and all this for the purpose of redeeming my severed relationship with the One who is love, just as Jesus covers peter’s denial of Him with an expression of love in John 21. He must ask peter three times—if He were to do less the restoration would not be complete. He must re-establish the love bond before moving forward and leaving to sit beside His Father in heaven.

peter is grieved in part because of God’s grace for redemption—“it is the kindness of the Lord that leads us unto repentance”—he was so touched by Jesus’ love for him and by his grown love in return that peter’s heart moves to repent and is restored upon the third profession, “Lord, You know all things; You know that i love You.” it is also here that peter hands over the last of his-will-apart-from-God’s; it is his last possession sold. now he must give them to the poor (“tend my sheep”) and follow Jesus; now he has seen the crucifixion and understands the cost of loving Jesus. he has already experienced the utter misery of denying his love for God and here moves to deny himself, take up his cross, and follow his God. this passage is the point no return for peter: his natural human sympathies find him first caught by grief, just as the rich man was, but peter does not stop there—this very well may be the first time in his life he follows through—he admits his love, solidifying his faith for when Jesus departs. the Holy Spirit will have a completely surrendered human being to inhabit at pentecost, the vessel readied—full of love and void of sin—the perfect environment for the Spirit of God to move freely through.

so here i stand, walking alone the shore after breakfast with jesus and he asks, a third time, “do you love me?”

yes, lord, you know that I do.

unburdening…

i had high hopes for myself this summer. delusions of grandeur: i would keep up with my blog–

woops.

with my deepest apologies—if you were in fact looking forward to more frequent postings, now that the internet and my personal computer lay within reach during the majority of my hours back in san diego, only to be rather lost and disappointed all summer long—i have no excuses to offer other than to say: well, i am back. and i will now proceed to fill you in and up-to-date you on my recent stint back in my home country, in my hometown (at least  a portion of it).

it has been hard (harder than i expected). this realization finally deposited itself into my thoughts on my first night while leading a youth group at a christian adventure camp—only two weeks ago. it spoke to me as our guide explained, “God is all around us in His creation; i mean, look up at the stars…” so i did: i looked up at those stars, the billions of them, and knew an ease that had not been present for a long while. no one else existed for a moment right then, and the whisper came, I know it has been hard for you being here and not doing much in the way of productivity and not knowing where you are going and Me just asking you to remain patient; I know. I know that insulated housing overwhelms you and driving in air conditioning to another insulated building tends to bring about claustrophobic spasms; I know dirt and trees and real air meet your needs more than refrigerators and garages and big beds do; I know. I know that you desire above all, though, to follow Me wherever I lead you; I know you know I love you. All this is not in vain, I am bringing unto Me, this fight ends in victory. I am reminding you here: I know.

one week prior i sat outside on my driveway ledge under the corner street lamp, pen in hand, writing through the stream of my consciousness. what came onto the page finally managed to break through all the struggling for peace in my life, for peace in the waiting and the not understanding: Jesus you are so patient with me always, of course i can be patient with you. maybe you all have mastered the art of peace in waiting–i.e., patience–but i have been a most impatient soul these last months. unable to budge the constant onslaught of anxious thoughts as well as discovering my natural refusal to cease striving, i once again walked outside that night to breathe and have a moment with my Father. there came no condemning words about what a demanding and restless child i am, only the confession of my own heart on paper, the simple logic: if you can be patient with me, the loony human, how easily could i then muster a bit of patience for you, my God of all the universe. and then the flood of stillness calmed my inner lake and from that moment forth, remained serene.

all this to say, though this summer proved a bit more difficult than expected, i can hardly complain. surrounded again by those who love me for reasons i do not often understand (and i love them in return all the more for it), i entered into a place where i constantly found myself overwhelmed by love. of the many things revealed to me from may until august, there stands above the rest a reoccurring theme requiring a relentless action on my part: that of unburdening. i do not mean the feng shui sort of order that comes when you throw out all excess in your home, move around your bed to face the rising sun, and buy only fresh flowers to improve the flow of chi in one’s home (though i did rid myself of excess clothing and trinkets, move my bed around, and brought home fresh flowers whenever possible), i am speaking of a deeper throwing off to make way for the Holy Spirit to move freely through my heart and space–a kind of feng Jesus, if you will. it is the laying aside [of] every weight and sin which so easily entangles, and running with endurance the race set before me, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of my faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is now seated at the right hand of the throne of God (hebrews 12:1-you should just read the whole chapter, it’s good). the truth that Jesus’ yoke is easy and his burden rather light comes because in His love for me, He harnessed Himself to the other side of my hitch–and seeing how He is quite larger and altogether stronger than myself (i imagine blue babe, but you are welcome to your own imaginative constructions), He can do all the pulling and the bearing of weight. but i must continually let go of it all, continually let God do the work and just go freely beside Him, to remain in that joy, in that peace that comes with easy yokes. most of my preliminary comprehension regarding this related to the freedom of a pure life and the freedom from sin, but these past months dove deeper: even blessings become burdens if they are not released. and God used the least likely of circumstances to move me into letting go, to step up with Him and walk together while He did the weight lifting…

i lived with a family in san diego that is my like my second family, and thus they take me on their family vacations (yes!). we went for a week to colorado and stayed in their cabin near durango. on sunday, we attended the local church: a very tiny log chapel, complete with steeple. if this did not already scream traditional, walking into the sanctuary and finding a sea of silver heads beam with smiles as they spotted young adults enter (a certainly rare, if not unprecedented, occasion in this service to be sure) would definitely solidify the feeling that robed choirs and hymnals in the pews were about to surface (which they did). needless to say, i was a bit tickled at the scene we had entered into–how ironically it melded with my very expectation of a quaint mountain church service. and then i began to giggle again after the sermon on, yes: burdens; and how the Holy Spirit grabbed me when the preacher offered the alter up as a place to come and cast all your cares upon Jesus; and then how i could not believe that i was walking up to the front, because i had burdens to let go of; and then i knelt there for longer than anyone else and all this could have been embarrassing but i just found myself amused at God choice of exactly when to convict me, and how i could not resist His invitation. you would not believe the relief i felt walking out of that little church, shaking the pastor’s hand as i told him, “man, those words really touched me today. thank you.”

a few days later we got to go white water rafting: on little one man inflatable kayaks (duckies). i have never done this before. it was dave (dad), rachel, laben, jordan, and me, of whom all have experience on this river before except for laben and i–but he’s a body builder, and i am not (just for the record). about a half hour into our trip down the animas (the river), i get stuck in a little rock rapid and end up losing my paddle and instead have to use my hands as paddles in the freezing water to get out and down the river, so i may retrieve my lost paddle. it was a pretty helpless feeling, and the incident really drove home the point that i had NO IDEA WHAT I WAS DOING. i kayak in the ocean, but this is very, very different. anyway, we continue down until we hit “the hammer”–i.e., the biggest of the rapids on this section of water. we pulled off to the side to look at them and talk about them, and a lot of pro kayakers were out as well as other spectators. they kept saying things like, “i can’t believe you guys are going down this thing on those;” “the river is really flowing high today;” “if i wasn’t wearing a helmet, i would’ve died;” etc–needless to say, my adrenaline was PUMPING. so dave and rach go first: dave falls out of his kayak, rachel falls out and her’s floats down the river. next up, laben: he gets to the top of the last rapid, only to be sucked back in and capsize. all three have banged up knees from the rocks. now it’s my turn:

as i was walking back to my boat alone, i began thinking, “there is NO way im going to make it through this on my own strength, it’s impossible.” so i began to sing a little song i picked up in thailand, “there is nothing my God cannot do, He can do all things, He can do all things, nothing is impossible with you, Jesus” and i just keep singing: as i get into my kayak, as i paddle into the river and get turned backwards, as i hit the rapids NOT straight on, as i am going into the last one and take one big, last minute stroke to straighten out, and as i go: OVER IT! i made it! the only one (jordan went after me and fell out like the others), praising Jesus the entire time. i was so giddy i kept smiling and hopping around. heaven was all around me, man, it was crazy. the others told me that from the shore they started praying for me and it was “like watching a miracle unfold” and that “i looked like a little angel all smiling while everyone else had had this panic ‘oh shit’ look on their faces.”

me and my kayak

and then there were those days where i let it build up, where the waves of restless apathy came pouring into me from small cracks in my armor. it would press in threatening to abolish my hope and already rustling up my joy, until in my near state of explosion i would throw on my running shoes and take off. minutes and minutes later, the ease would return and i could finally get a clear connection solely between me and my Lord. either a long run, or time outside on our curb talking (what looked like to myself, to the untrained eye of passers-by) aloud to God and verbally warring against that thief of my ability to be still. i did not have a steady income this summer, i spent more hours available at home than is typically comfortable for me, i lacked solid answers to the standard inquiry, “so what are you going to next?”, my community revolved mainly around my family, and i discovered my very weak talent in the art of effective resting. yet this summer moved me into levels of freedom that can only come via divine encounters–intimate moments with my heavenly Father and through intimate restorations with my family and close friends. so light is the feeling of ceasing to try so hard and just run alongside the model ox so graciously hitched up next to me, that i find myself running with endurance, because i really enjoy how God chooses to relate to me, it just kills me…