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My writing has never been called "outstanding." At best, my attempts at forging compelling literature amounted to a passing grade in high school English class. It's likely that my works will never gain notoriety. I imagine the most critical scrutiny I will receive in my lifetime is a few well-meaning relatives correcting my spelling and grammar usage. For most people, knowing that their attempts at something can only hope to attain the level of "average" is enough to dissuade them from putting real effort into what they choose to do. Thankfully, I'm immune from such a common disposition. 

My experiences have left me determined to pursue greatness. I've learned early on that the only way to succeed is through ferocious intensity aimed directly at your goal. If I don't give more than 100%, then I will never be more than I am at this moment. That's the very principle behind growth, endurance, advancement, ANYTHING that yields progress. 

This is not a safe principle to live by. Don't allow your imagination to go to the place where this principle becomes an iron-clad mathematical equation for success. Giving more than 100% towards the endeavor of excellence is NEVER a sure thing. There is a very real chance that failure CAN (and does) occur. It is possible to fail even when giving 110%, but I still contend that giving more than you have is the ONLY option that has even the possibility for success. 

You cannot find that which you do not seek. You cannot do that which you do not try. 

Success in giving all is not a guarantee, but failure from giving nothing is a certainty. How do great people break from the chains of mediocrity and soar above the stars to be remembered for all time? They simply refused to give less than 100%. Many of the great people in history experienced failure. Many (most, if not all) average people in history experienced failure as well. The extraordinary fact about great people is that they did not settle for failure. The greatest wouldn't even settle for success!

It never matters what area the battle is in, the victorious warrior is the one that never settles on the previous battle's outcome - win or loss. Perpetual loss is the trophy of those who refuse to fight, refuse to sacrifice, refuse to take risk, refuse to give ALL. Someone who has never experienced loss is someone who's never experienced a challenge. 

So my writing may go through the ringer from family members (thank GOD for spell check). My blog may never make the top 100 list (or thousand, or million...). My blog may not even show up on the google search pages. I'm ok with that. The real victory doesn't come from the accolades or recognition. The REAL victory comes from the endurance and character built up with every battle, with picking myself up after every defeat. True victory occurs when, in every aspect of life, more than 100% of myself is applied. 

In school, excellent is determined by a score of 100% and above. Perfection attained. Unlike school, "average" is determined by anything less than 100% in life. Perfection may be an illusion unattainable for us in this life, but it's a worthy aim and a possibility that will never be attained if no one tries...

Improper Ventilation

Since the early days of Live Journal I have been hesitant to splatter my deepest emotions onto the blank canvas that is blogging. This is largely due to the fact that my closest friends and family would criticize the extent at which I would express my inmost thoughts or feelings. Ever heard the expression "TMI?" Well, that was me. I'm not about to make a post and give out Too Much Information, so please, don't get antsy (or excited, depending on your inclination...); I do, however, like to share from personal experience because I believe my thoughts can have a beneficial impact on other's.

This week's journey has taken its toll on my heart and mind. I'm not entirely sure what happened to drain all of my internal resources so quickly, but it has felt like all of my emotional reserves have evaporated at the flick of some diabolical switch. My brain has been failing to fire, much like an ancient transmission that refuses to turn over. No hope of sparks this week.

You would think that emotional drain would be a simple problem to fix or not even a big deal; just give it time and let the reserves fill back up, but this deficit quickly led to even more problems...

Not only have I felt a tad light in the emotion department, I've  also noticed my overall personality shifted from its once confident, collected, and bold nature to a rather weak-willed cowardice that frustrates and disgusts me. Just a single month ago I felt alive, bursting with energy, fresh thoughts, and exuding confidence only known to savvy politicians. This week, I feel as if aliens abducted me during the night, removed my courageous bone and replaced it with pure, powdered timidity.

What could I do? My brain refused to function so a clear solution couldn't be drummed up. The prospect of being ridiculed caused me to be too afraid to ask my friends for advice. Even crying and eating chocolate didn't yield any solid answers. I would say that the situation appeared bleak, but I was too scared to acknowledge that. 

I did the only thing a person can do in time of real internal crisis, I looked to Scripture. In its life-giving pages I rediscovered a passage that is forever burned onto my heart - 2Timothy 1:7 "For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power..."

The solution relieved my emotional lacking and broke through the hovering mental barrier like the first autumn breeze cuts through the scorching summer heat. The only way to battle inward timidity is with external adventure. Force the weakness inside to become strong through a series of events that require boldness and courage. Life is meant to be taken by the horns, the sun rises so the day can be seized once more. I need to embrace the spirit of power that Christ has gifted me with. Allowing fear and cowardice to grow and overcome my thoughts and actions will only lead to less pleasant feelings. 

What have I learned this week? If you're feeling weak, do something that requires you to be strong. If you're feeling cowardly, embark on an adventure that requires courage. When you feel as if retreat is in order so you can regroup, charge forward and attack life head on! 

I found encouragement this week. I won't stop, I won't quit, and I will continue to share, express, and (hopefully) motivate others to do the same.

Carry on!

Stuff I learn.

A treat for you readers today! I take a break from the mullings and musings that characterize my posts and share with you the fruit of some spare-time labors. I've been hard at work crafting some amazing pieces of awesomeness that I think you will enjoy. 

First up, as a HUGE halo fan, I decided to undertake the GINORMOUS project of recreating spartan armor. Being over daunted with that task, I settled to make a weaponized prop instead - my personal favorite weapon from Halo Reach; the Pistol! Below you can see the painstaking detail as the pistol takes shape from its cardstock shell into a fully colored amazing piece!

Cool beans right!? Well, not being satisfied with my mechanized amazingness, I decided to go old school and try my hand at an iconic classic - Link's Shield!

This was, comparably, an intensely easy build. In just a week's time this shield was fully formed and decorated and now adorns my wall! Enjoy the transformation pics and the final display!

This has been the constant filler of my free time (since no girl has taken it upon herself to steal my amazing talents for herself) and you get to enjoy the yielded amazing products from my hobby!

Suggestions for something you'd like to see me make? Offers of some sort of currency in trade for one of my amazing builds? Leave some comments! Love to hear what you think!

Sunspots

**Disclaimer: No real thoughts are going to be expressed here in this blog post. This is simply a narrative exercise designed to help my brain relax. Although, if you find it entertaining, share away!**

My eyes struggle to stay in focus as a dull haze descends on my world like a warm blanket that a loving mother sets atop an infant. It's a warm, comforting feeling; or it would be if I weren't driving. My head snaps back and my mind is instantly restored to full alertness, if only for the moment.

It's been hours since my last pit stop. The sun has already taken its leave for the night. I should stop to fill up on fuel, stretch, and rest my eyes. I'll need to be on top of my game when the morning comes. I've masterfully orchestrated my course to take me into the heart of Atlanta at the precise moment rush hour is due to hit. What was I thinking? Has this sleepy haze been over me this whole trip? It feels like a blur. Two thousand miles and every mile-marker looks the same. The only discernible difference is when the sun sets and rises.

As I calculate how much longer I can stay at the wheel given my current level of consciousness and fuel, my mind drifts back to the reason for this trip altogether. Her name floods my senses like a tidal wave. Her voice echoes in my ears, her beautiful face lingers in my mind, and the warmth of her hands still dance on my skin where she held me. Oh, yes. Her. She was the whole cause for this expedition. I had to see her; if only for one last time, I had to see her.

If someone else had told me they intended to drive across the country just to see a girl for a few days, I would've called them crazy (as well as some other ridiculous names). If someone then told me she had no idea how he felt, I would've stepped up the insults a thousand times! Which is why this trip had to be shrouded in mystery. I would never have let someone else live down the insanity of the concept, so how could I? Maybe I was crazy. Maybe spending hundreds of dollars on fuel, driving cross country only to spend a single afternoon with a girl you're madly in love with who hasn't a CLUE is the very definition of insanity...

Most of this week has been on the road. Amidst the endless sea of asphalt lies an island of bittersweet memory. My stomach turns as I reminisce on the recent events. I don't know if it's hunger or heartbreak my tummy's trying to express. Maybe it's both. The warning of emptiness is unheeded as my mind has already started to relive the last 48 hours.

Pulling up to a mall in a foreign land is always an adventure, but knowing that inside is the one person I'd be willing to sacrifice everything for makes the butterflies that much larger. As I sit in the parking lot, awaiting a location via text message, my mind seriously questions whether or not she even has the slightest inclination towards my true feelings. How could she not know? It's been over 2 years since we last saw each other and we have stayed immensely close friends despite the distance. Who keeps up that strong a tie without acknowledging even the possibility of something more? Can't she see how much I adore her? Doesn't she realize how highly I think of her or how much I'm willing to support her no matter what? Am I really "just" that good a friend? Do I really come across so sincere and pure that there's not even a hint as to any extra motives? Or is she just that naive? I AM her friend. But my feelings extend so far beyond that. Maybe I should tell her, let her know that...

My thoughts are interrupted. Txt message. She's in the food court. My legs and arms go into autopilot as I exit my car like a trained navy seal ready for a top secret incursion. In perfected synchronization, my seat belt is off, door is opened and locked, my keys and cell phone stowed away in their respective pockets and my legs are already engaged in a swift yet stealthy pace towards the food court entrance.

The sun is bright, the weather perfect for tanning; the right balance of humidity and non-oppressive heat. I don't care. The beauty of the afternoon is lost on me, my thoughts preoccupied with what will prove to be the highlight of my trip. In just a few more steps, I'll be sitting face to face with the strongest desire of my heart. I've already breached the mall entrance. My eyes instinctively scanning. Ignoring the men, women and children. Negative match. Not who I'm looking for. THERE! My eyes only catch the back of her head, but that's more than enough to recognize her. It's like the day we met. My mind transports back two years when I was dumbfounded just when she walked into the room. I had only seen the back of her head then, but I knew I needed to know this girl. My heart leaped. It saw what my eyes could not.

My heart was not just leaping now; it threatened to pop out of my mouth! I don't even remember the distance from when I spotted her till now. I'm 4 feet away, I shout her name. She turns around, stunning me with gorgeous blue eyes and a smile I wish meant so much more than "So happy to see you, friend!" My heart gushed, my gut cringed with pain. My tongue yearned to spill out the secrets that have been locked away for years. This is not the time. This is not the place. My shields have to go back up. I strengthen them only by promising myself that I WILL tell her... eventually. I have to before I implode.

I smile back. We sit and chat about things insignificant in light of the secret I've been longing to share. We laugh about things I can't even recall now. We joke, catch up, there is nothing but smiles. My heart is already burning white hot when she laughs again and grabs my arm. This almost makes my soul go nuclear, my mind already flooding coolant into the situation by screaming "SHE DOESN'T KNOW! IT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING!" My brain is smarter than my heart thinks. It is just a platonic gesture women have developed to drive men crazy since the dawn of time. It's a perfectly wonderful appreciation for the comfort level in a friendship, but for a guy, it's easily misread as "there could be more." What if my mind is wrong? What if she is ready to hear what's been eating away at my heart for the longest time? What if...

The sound a trucker's horn and some maneuvers I can only describe as "secret agent inspired" bring my thoughts and my car to a screeching halt. That was too close. I decide it's time to get off the road for an hour or two. I need fuel and my mind needs rest.

The aromas from the gas station assault my nostrils. It must be great to be a car; anytime they start to run on empty, they can be refilled and keep on going. I, on the other hand, am not as easily restored when drained. After this week, I wonder if I'll ever be whole again. Grey emotions are all that's left to color the pictures in my memories.

I pull into a rest stop, it's 4:30. Good. There's no one around to witness my exhausted misery. I adjust my seat and attempt to rest my eyes. As soon as they shut, there's her face again. I try to blink it away, but it's too late, my subconscious takes its turn at torturing my heart, continuing the memory with the vivid power of my dreams.

It's dinner now. We decided that a day of amazing adventures would could only be topped with an awesome dinner. After all, this is a special occasion. I'm on vacation and our friendship is worth a special evening, right? Of course it is. Is our friendship worth the risk of ruining it because of how I feel? Another weighty thought that gnaws at the back of my brain stem during the appetizers and main course. She's so kind and congenial. Talking to her is like talking to myself if I were a thousand times nicer and more pleasant. She is strong in understanding and our words don't even have to be much to explain ourselves. Truly there is a kindred connection here, but is it enough?

I wish my heart would shut up so I could enjoy this evening. I wish it had walked away from the threshold of blurting out my deepest emotions for her. I've walked this razor's edge for too long. Tonight is the tipping point. I will either show my hand or bury it forever, fold, and walk away.

My body is displaying the struggle being relived in the depths of my mind. I'm awakened by a tapping on my window. My reflexes immediately initiate attack mode and a surge of adrenaline snaps me from my sleep. It's a concerned security guard. He noticed me thrashing despite my extreme exhaustion and wanted to make sure I was ok. I assured him I was. He didn't need much convincing, his duty was finished and he went on his way continuing to patrol the rest area. I'm sure this was the most interesting thing on his night, but it seemed the normal disturbance for me and my nights.

The jolt from being wakened urges me to continue my trip. I haven't gotten more than a half hour of sleep, but that's enough to make it to the next rest area. I don't want to bother this guard anymore or risk him calling for medical attention should I have night terrors again. So my empty journey continues.

My mind drifts back to that final hour. Her voice is so sweet... now it brings searing pain like saltwater on a fresh wound. The day of adventuring took its toll on both of us and a large dinner has told our bodies that it was time to rest and recharge. But somehow I compel her to take a walk with me. This is it. I can't have come this far just to bottle up and not fill her in on what I feel. I decided that being friends means being completely honest. And how can I be honest when I've been hiding this for years?

We walk, we talk. It must have been miles, at least it felt like it. I beat around the bush for an eternity. We both talk about how great our friendship is, how amazing that we met over one chance summer and stayed friends for so long. My heart is threatening cardiac arrest. My soul is screaming "SHUT UP AND TELL HER!" My body is beginning to use terrorist tactics to get me to comply. My left leg is cramping and may conspire to take me to the ground if I won't listen. "OK," I thought, "Now's the time. I will tell her how I really feel. I will tell her that I was captivated the moment I met her and haven't been let go ever since. I will tell her how I've grown to love her more than my next breath. How it's burned my heart every time she's told me about the 'new guy' in her life and how I've detested the thought yet encouraged and even helped the relationships that have seemingly made her happy..."

Yes, even when she's been dating someone else, I helped. I wanted her to be happy even if it wasn't with me. I feel like such a sap. But I knew it was the right thing to do. Sabotage does not win hearts. But would telling her that I helped be just as bad as sabotage? Would using my kind deeds as leverage in an attempt to convince her how awesome I am be just as underhanded as if I had caused her breakups? I wish they had covered THESE issues in ethics class instead of abortion and other things...

Suddenly, we're back in front of her house. We've walked the whole neighborhood. I'm out of time. It's obvious now that the evening is over. My chance is slipping away. It's now or never. I have to get this out. I open my mouth to speak, my pent-up feelings about to surge forth in an eloquent display of chivalry! This is the moment I've been preparing for. My tongue starts the first consonant.

Her arms wrap around me. Her head on my shoulder. She squeezes me tight. I've longed to hold her. WAIT! I haven't said anything yet! She says "Today has been wonderful friend. It's late, and I'm about to pass out. I loved seeing you. I do hope you have a safe trip back home." And just like a candle blown out with a single breath, that was it. I returned the sentiment and said my goodbye and she walked back inside. I stood there a moment bewildered at what just happened.

Heartbroken doesn't even begin to describe what I felt. I slink back to my car and hide my face for the tears that began to stream down my face are more than I can see through. I don't even wait for morning. This is worse than being outright rejected. I never even gave her the chance to do so. I drive and keep on driving. I pass cities, state lines. My trip ends as anti-climatic as could ever be conceived. She will never know how I feel and I will be forced to bury my emotions as I struggle to stay alive on this road. I don't know if our paths will ever cross again. But I do know that there is a long road ahead, and I'm no where near home yet...

The End?

Heartthrob

It's Saturday. My eyes opened early this morning. My brain fight off the rays of light creeping through my bedroom window as my body lurches from the warm embrace of my comforter. Today begins with a mission; one of compensated sacrifice. I drive in a lackluster fashion to the facility where this is to take place. Weary smiles and cordial "Good mornings" fill the air as I enter through the tinted doors. It's Saturday, no one wants to be working, no matter how noble the outcome of the effort. 

The process begins. A hundred questions which serve to check my medical history and clear my potential to donate. Mostly they serve to decay my brainwaves and numb my cognitive capacity. Next step, pain in the finger. A sharp click and they can take the blood sample necessary to approve me for the day. My life essence is calculated into a few numbers. Good. They fall within the normal average. I'm ready. 

Into the harvesting room. The chairs are large and comfortable. They have to be for what they expect. I'd be sitting for quite a while. An attendant greets me with as much warm as possible amidst the sterile environment of machines, lab coats, and latex gloves. Plastic fingers nimbly arrange the tubes and swiftly prep the injection site. I can't watch, I never can. It's not the sensation of pain that turns my head, but the overlying concept of actually allowing a metallic foreign object to pierce my flesh. Warriors are programed to make the avoidance of such an occurrence one of the highest priorities in life. But saving lives in this day and age necessitates my compromise here. 

The attendant's job is done. Strips of adhesive firmly yet gently keep the hollow shaft of the needle secure in my left arm's vein. This effectively immobilizes my arm for the next hour as the machine does its work. It beeps. My hand must continue to pump an imaginary ball of my own creation to assist the machine as it draws what it needs. Slowly the containers fill. The parts whirl and hum. The crimson liquid that causes me life is extracted, separated, and then replaced back where it belongs. All they've collected is the element of my blood that helps it remain fluid - plasma. The process repeats. I distract myself with a book, intermittently glancing at the progress of the mechanized vampire adjacent. I don't want to be here longer than I have to. 

I understand the need. I understand the compensation is more than alluring. I understand that lives are potentially saved. But I also understand my body's growing uneasiness and discomfort by this strange, alien environment. Cold, discomfort, pain, acknowledgment of fluid loss. My instincts are raging at me to rip out the needle and claw my way out of the facility precisely as I've seen my favorite adamantium infused super hero do in the comics and movies. But reason wins. Self-control prevails and I endure the full procedure. 

The job is done. The attendant replaces the needle with a gauze and more adhesive. "Hurry up!" I scream in my thoughts through gritted teeth. Weekend wishes are exchanged and I receive my payment for fluids rendered. It's an excellent haul for just an hour's worth of... work? I did nothing really except relegate my body for their uses. But my time is done. Before my work ever begins, I have contributed something and received my prize. 

Why do we do such things? It would be so convenient for me to hide behind the apparent nobility of the cause. Donating plasma saves lives. It helps the world. I'm a hero! But, to be honest, that thought wasn't my primary motivation. What drew me was the tantalizing potential to gain an extra $200 a month just for making regular donations. What an oportunity to augment my meager, albeit sutainable salary. The hope in my mind occured - I COULD reach financial security through a solid savings account even during turbulent economic times. I relished the thought of being able to weather any personal financial storm without having to rely on my parents or the bank bailing me out. Sadly, independence, not self-sacrificial life saving was on my mind the morning I signed up for this process. 

While my motives don't make me a hero, I don't believe that this self applied desire denigrates my character. The benefits of gaining extra monies far outweigh any possible criticisms for profitting from donating plasma. After all, no one would criticize me for selling a product to gain extra cash. A product that may or may not be a frivelous expendeture for some. Something that serves no purpose except to entertain and make me cash. No, this effort has the double benefit of helping someone in need who needs life sustaining plasma as well as giving me the convenience of making extra income without taking a second job. 

The pulse of life doesn't always need to be selfish or selfless. Sometimes both concepts are intermingled amidst the decisions in life. Not everything is "Right" or "Wrong" sometimes there are simply choices that are better than others. In this case, I think this is a far more preferred choice.

Those who get caught up in the ethical weight of every single decision have a tendancy to judge others based on how they weigh their own choices. See, I do so now, holding what I consider wisdom in making choices that don't seemt o clearly be on either side of the line of right and wrong and in explaining it to you all. But I do consider that there is a higher way of thinking and doing. I ask God for wisdom in all things, even the choices that don't necessarily have an eternal impact (although everything does, but considering the effect on eternity which colored socks I wear becomes wearisome in light of the day-to-day activities.). 

And so, I can walk boldly in the light of my choices because I have faith in the counsel I have received. My God will not steer me down a path that is not wise or acceptable. Any criticisms can then be taking with a true grain of salt and my perspective can remain secure, in all situations. I will endeavor to do what is best, when possible, and what's right when it's clear that there is a right or wrong. 

Just my thoughts today.

Something Worth Writing

Does anyone else ever experience the sensation of time slowing down? Why is it that, at one moment, time can seem to be moving as such an intense pace with no opportunity to catch a breath and the next moment make fossilized snails look like speed demons?

I'm not complaining about the extra time to stop and think, I'm just asking why time, while it's supposed to be regulated and measured by specific intervals, seems so fluid and inconsistent? It's questions like these that keep me wondering about the important things in life. Are there secrets about our very existence that have yet to be answered? Is the mystery simply another exciting aspect of our existence or a bizarre perception meant to distract our thoughts from what's really important?

I guess in the grand scheme of things, time and contemplating why it's perceived differently is of no great importance. Time has been around since man has been able to experience and catalogue it. We do not master time, just the tallying off of minutes, hours, days, months, years and eons. 

More important are the things that happen within time. Time is more the canvas on which history is painted. 

I've spent some time pouring through the historical books of the Bible. I love the history recorded there. Only the most important things were chronicled (due to the fact that ink wouldn't be wasted on frivolous or irrelevant details) so that means everything included is profoundly significant. 

What I found that is interesting is that the Bible spares no punches in its recording. Great people with great moments are recorded accurately without bias, and so are the blunders and screw-ups. The failings of those in the biblical record are just as significant to history as the amazing successes and victories! This shows that even the heroes of history are human and susceptible to the same pitfalls that plague us today. The significance is that life goes on (sometimes) after monumental failure. 

Perhaps the most significant thing about this history is how the Bible shows that a perfect God can so profoundly use such imperfect people to accomplish, well, ANYTHING!

Something that bothers me with the perceptions people have about Christianity is that a person's individual failings somehow affect the perfection of God. "Oh, you messed up! That proves God doesn't exist!" An extreme statement, to be sure. But also fundamentally incorrect. Me messing up only serves testament to my own fallibility being human. It also shows how much more perfect my God must be in order to use me according to His will. Throughout the Bible, God uses, harlots, cowards, outcasts, bastard children, the runts of the family, and the most unlikely, uncouth, unqualified candidates as part of the master plan leading towards redemption. 

Yes, so many of these people had severe problems and most ALL of them messed up and were disobedient or just plain stupid in some way. But that fact didn't disqualify them from being part of the plan. Some were even forgiven. While God is always grieved when people make mistakes, that doesn't mean they are worthless or unusable. 

It's because of this very principle that I am continually outraged by the general misquotation of the passage, "Judge not, lest ye be judged." (Matt 7:1) Generally people throw this in others' faces whenever they encounter someone who tries to peg them or tell them that they are wrong...

First off, I agree with the principle of Scripture. Unfortunately, this passage doesn't mean what MOST people think it does. 

As Christians, we are not supposed to pass judgment, this is true. But what does it mean to pass judgement? When a judge passes judgement, it's not a verdict of guilty or innocent, it's literally the sentencing. Judgement has been passed, the sentence will be carried out. Christians are not supposed to be about stoning people because of their guilt or to avenge God's laws. (God very specifically says, "That's MY job!" Except, of course, when God TELLS us to carry out judgment - i.e. capital punishment) 

So what does that mean for the people who hold up this passage as a shield against the alleged judgmental attitude of Christians, parents, religious people, etc...? 

It means that they have to rethink what they do and who they are. Hey, it's like the idiom - "Don't just a book by its cover." This is another phrase taken completely out of context. First off, a book's cover is not indicative of the contents. A worn cover, ugly and deteriorating, may hold some of the most precious words ever penned. Or, a new, flashy cover may hold absolute junk. That's the point of the idiom. Don't let the wear and tear, or flashiness distract you from considering the content of a book. We ARE supposed to judge books by the content, good or bad. 

We DO judge a book based on the title. The title carries with it pertinent information regarding the content of the book which offers up at least a little bit of criteria for judgement. The title communicates, in part, the contents by which we CAN judge, or in other words, make a determination regarding the character inside. 

So... when people say "Don't judge me by what I do or how I look!" I have a hard time validating their request. Because what you do and what you choose to wear is intended to communicate something about your contents. The major argument in schools since the invention of uniforms has been "let us wear what we want! Clothes are a form of personal expression!" Personal expression. It's a form of communication intended to express the contents of a person's personality and character. 

When people tell me "you can't judge a book by it's cover" I usually respond "but you're supposed to judge a fruit by its skin." People reveal more about their character than they realize. Someone hiding behind this passage or misappropriated idioms is nothing more than the knee-jerk hesitancy to be held accountable for their actions and attitudes. It's just like saying "If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, looks like a duck, but says it's an elephant, BELIEVE IT!" Sorry, no such luck. 

My point is that judging is an important part of accountability. I don't judge in the sense of doling out sentencing or making people pay for their shortcomings. As I said, that's God's job and he'll take care of that in his own time. But people cannot hide who they are or demand that discerning people not call attitudes or actions out for what they are. Wise people must make discerning judgments when it comes to looking at the character of a person. 

Why people don't want to be defined for who and what they are? It's simple; people want to lie to themselves and tell themselves "I'm not THAT bad." They don't want to be held to anyone else's expectations or to an objective reality. They want to be able to say "this is me! and that's that!" without someone challenging who they are. However, a wise philosopher had once said "The unexamined life is not worth living." And if one were to deny people the discernment to identify their weaknesses and disavow any criticism, then the only thing keeping them alive is the lies they tell themselves. So be it. 

I don't write to resolve anything today; just to get these thoughts out so they stop rattling around my brain. Thanks for reading!

Searching for Significance (part... whatever!)

Oh my. This week, last week, all the weeks have been a blur amidst the frenzy of activities, planning and preparations for the Easter season. I stepped out of a relaxing yet hectic vacation time into an all out onslaught of frantic preparations for a Good Friday Walk through for my church. Thank God everything came together and went off without a hitch. A great deal of my time (almost 10 hours) went into producing this video to end the walk through. If you care to check it out, you can do so by clicking HERE. 

In the light of all the Easter thoughts that are expressed this time of year, I began to think about what I could possibly share in relation to this ongoing commentary on man's search for significance. What impact does this event in history have on all of our lives? What possible relevance does this one concept have compared to our defined lives?

Everything.

Jesus serves as the ultimate example of human existence and purpose. His entire life was wrapped around a singular purpose. Everything else that Jesus did revolved around his destiny. His teaching, his ministry, his words, his miracles, everything pointed to the cross where he would suffer and die as an atoning sacrifice for all of mankind. 

But in and of himself, Jesus was not concerned about gaining fame or notoriety through what he did. Jesus, knowing he was God, knowing the significance of what he was doing, did not allow that to be his focus. Everything he did pointed to the cross, yes, but is also was directed back to honor God the Father. 

The paradox of Jesus' life was that he had the authority of God because he was God. But being man, his life was about serving God (not himself). This is the theological element that confounds scholar and layman alike. It is beyond total comprehension and yet it is true. God, wrapped in human flesh, living out humanity and serving God selflessly. It seems a contradiction in concept, yet this is the mystery of the trinity. 

What's the point? Glad you asked. The point is not for us to understand how this is possible, but to take from Jesus the ultimate example for fulfilled significance. There is so much more I have to share regarding the fallacious methods and ideologies people adopt in order to feign significance in this life. But Jesus serves as the ultimate fulfillment of destiny. 

In Jesus we find meaning, hope, life, and purpose. In Christ we can discover who we really are and who we are meant to be, what we are meant to do. 

Jesus, through his life, ministry and death, exemplified what it means to be human. His life was spent in obedience and relationship with God the Father. This is what God intended since the beginning. This relationship with the Father is precisely why Jesus was able to do what he did in terms of ministry and miracles. It was God's power flowing through him that allowed for the impossible to take place. Jesus rested on God's power, not his own (again, the theology is that Jesus COULD have done it all, since he was God, but he emptied himself and rested on God's authority). It's such a mind bender, but Jesus serves as the example for how we are to live. 

We find that we are supposed to model Christ in how he lived and served and trusted God. This allows us to see who we are supposed to be. The differences between us and Jesus serve to help identify who we really are. We know that Jesus lived a perfect life, sinless, blameless, righteous and holy. We can clearly see the stark difference that we are NOT any of those things. Hardly... we are broken, evil, miserable, and debase in thought and deed. Knowing this allows us to see clearly the need to accept that most significant thing that Jesus did, allowing the opportunity for forgiveness according to the blood shed on the cross. 

This acceptance of forgiveness and atonement - this covering for our sins and wiping away of the guilt and record of wrongs - is what gives us a fresh start and presents the possibility for fulfilled purpose. Any item being used for a misappropriated use is not living up to the potential intended for that particular item. In the same way, people who are concerned with doing things "their" way and doing what is wrong are not living up to the potential for what could be happening. Christ wants us to be the game changers of this world. And that can't happen while sin reigns and our lives are dedicated for self-service or pointless purposes. 

The most amazing thing is that accepting Jesus' sacrifice and forgiveness offers us a NEW LIFE, transformed heart and mind able to rise above the previously dark and dead world we have been accustomed to. Our purpose in life is abel to be fulfilled. The purpose to worship God and obey His will. This is possible because through Jesus we are able to be made useable for God's service. Our hearts and minds can KNOW what God wants us to do. We have certainty in our actions and decisions because doubt has been erased. That alone is an awesome thought. A life with direction and clear purpose is like finding a burried treasure. 

What's more, our lives are cleaned up as we are able to live up to the righteousness that God expects. Our actions match up with our motives, and our motives match up with the attitude of Christ. Our very being is molded and transformed to be who we were meant to be. That is comforting. There's no confusion or lostness to be experienced in trying to determine who we are "supposed" to be because the Creator of all, the one person who truly KNOWS who we are, is able to apply his hands to our lives and forge us into our destiny. 

Purpose, significance, destiny. These are all only able to be fulfilled through Christ. Any other way is a lie designed to create false hope. 

How do we know Jesus was who he said he was? How do we know this is true? Because Jesus lives! He didn't just die on a cross, he rose from the grave and conquered where every human being has failed. He defeated sin and death and offers us the same ability if only we join him! 

That's why we have Easter! CELEBRATE! THIS is the most significant time, period!