Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy...

I made everyone an ornament. Just print, cut, and hang. Merry Christmas!

a little church with big love

I used to be "youth pastor" at a little church in Bryant, Indiana. A small church with big love out in the middle of the middle of nowhere on some road marked 650. My favorite road in the fall. There is a quarter mile section where the trees hold hands across the street, stretching their limbs to create a tunnel of browns, yellows, and oranges.

Go down the road a few miles over a stomach dropping hill and around a few Amish buggies and you’ll see it, a little white church, slightly smaller than the size of an old farm house, with a gravel parking lot, an old bell, and small yard with two wooden crosses (the third fell down a couple years ago).

It’s the kind of church that fights to keep its doors open and heater running (in fact this past Sunday while I was there they had a vote to keep it open or shut it down), but always seems to make it, whether the toilet flushes every Sunday or not. And it survives because of its people. They are stubborn, a little for tradition and familiarity, but mostly for what they believe that building can give, for what that building has given them.

The people that love best are the ones that have to fight for it.

And their biggest fight may be the one to give in and shut the doors. They are preparing for that, while hoping they don’t have to, but realizing that no matter what happens, Sardinia Missionary Church is bigger than a building.

It was good to be back for church this past Sunday, good see the old youth room in the basement still with aluminum foil walls (it fit the budget and was kind of a joke with the church name, designed to look like a sardine can), good to make music with the Frey's, and good to talk to the Horns.

But it was very good to throw snowballs at Tom and Colton. Cameron, Zach, and I tried to take their fort in a game of capture the flag in the snow after church. We played for hours. My New Balances were soaked along with my four pairs of socks long before Sidney joined us and we decided to go sledding. Because of that, my nose is sniffling as I write the post. But I don’t care, because only people who live life get sick. I lived a lot this last week and for that I welcome a little cold.

After the snow games me and my friends (I almost wrote "kids that used to be in my youth group", but that seemed so impersonal and insufficient. They are more than that. Why does the church put such dumb labels on people? I refuse to be a "youth pastor" and don’t want a "youth group". I want to be a friend. I want bothers and sisters. The church is family not some business or organization that categorizes people...) we went to the Ritz, an old two screen movie theater where you can get a ticket, coke, bag of popcorn, and a candy bar for well under ten bucks. There we saw The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, which I’d pay the fortune it costs at a cinema to it see again.

The next day I went to Jay County High School and had lunch with Cameron, Tom, Zack, Colton, Matt, and Carrie. I miss pizza boats and chocolate milk in a tiny carton. Between the office sign-in sheet and the cafeteria I managed to get yelled at by two teachers (some things never change). Once for not wearing the big red visitor’s name tag they gave me (the lady in the office never said I had to wear the thing) and once for wearing a hat.

I am rich.

I am rich.

This is my realization after spending a week at Indiana Wesleyan and a couple days in Bryant, Indiana, after six months in Texas, a few days in Colorado and Michigan, and after being home for the holidays. I am rich with life and love, with family and friendship.

I've never felt so content with what I have. I have so much. I don't know how to describe that feeling. I don't know how to tell you why. I just know. I just know that I am rich, rich with the important stuff.

I'm going to try to put this into words, to tell you what I have, maybe reminding you of the same. It'll take a few posts...but I promise I'll get back to where I was at in that Colorado story...

A Little Bit Later Than A Little Over Almost a Month A Go: Part 1

My feet are cold, and have been cold since I left Texas and crossed the New Mexican border to Colorado.

Everyone in New Mexico warned me that Colorado was cold. New Mexicans shiver at the mention of the state. New Mexicans shiver when its sixty degrees. I shivered in Colorado, but the people there didn’t. They didn’t even seem to notice that it was cold. They still wore their big coats and scarvess, but seemed to enjoy them.

On my first morning (well I guess, only morning) at Colorado Springs I sat in the corner of Starbucks huddled over my peppermint mocha, holding my hands over the trickle of steam coming from its lid, pretending it was a small fire. I was trying to warm up after a night of sleeping in my truck in a Wal-Mart parking lot. I know there are many people who don’t like this store, for the effects it has had on small businesses and for its treatment of employees, but if there is one good thing about Wall-Mart, it is that they welcome campers, even protect the drivers of Semi’s, motor homes, and vehicles that park and sleep in there parking spaces. This particular one had 24 hour security—an old man in truck who drove up and down the rows—assuring safety for those spending the night. The cold kept me awake most of the night and when it didn’t, the flashing yellow light of the nice security grandpa did. So as soon as the sun rose I wiggled out of my sleeping bag and headed to Starbucks.

The Starbucks in Colorado Springs has an amazing view out of its storefront windows. Through the foggy condensation you can see Pikes Peak. I had to duck my head down just a little to see the top, which had snow on it at this time of the year (maybe it always does, I'm not sure). It was beautiful, but made my feet cold.

I watched, from my pretend fire, the mountain, every few moments glancing at the customers. There was one lady in particular that caught my attention. There was something very attractive about her, not necessarily physically, but just one of those people you see and for some strange intuitive reason, really like. It’s almost as if you think they have some secret about life and so you watch and hope to notice it. She was reading a newspaper, which she offered to me after she was finished, and commented on how nice the day was. I agreed, but said nothing else because I’m not very good at small talk, and she left. Once outside the door she stopped, threw her scarf around her neck, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

People breathe differently in Colorado. They seem to be more aware of air and thankful for it. Probably because of the altitude. Or maybe it’s just the cold, sneaking up the backs of their shirts like stethoscopes, that causes them to take deep breaths as they walk out doors.

I dunno, but I wonder if that lady did know a secret. I wonder how my day would be different if when I walked out the door, I chose to stop and fill my lungs with a big taste of oxygen.

The End is Near

Almost a month ago I left Lubbock. A little over almost a month ago I returned to West Texas, saw Chicken Little at the drive-in, spent the night at my grandma’s, and then left again. It was a good time, but kinda weird saying goodbye twice. I guess that encores are for rock shows not real life.

Since the first time and second time I left Texas, a lot has happened. Including being told by a cop to put my hands were he can see them and being informed by some guy named Mike that it was the end of the world and that pretty soon all the Christians would be moving to the mountains of Colorado, specifically the Colorado Springs area, because it says so somewhere in the Bible.

I’ve got a lot of stories and pictures to share, but I’ve not slowed down long enough to write or empty my memory card. But I need to, otherwise I’ll forget stuff and will have to start deleting pictures off my camera to make room for new ones. Just give me a couple days...