The unfinished posts: Reunions and Pointillism.

I’ve dropped off the planet as far as writing goes, and miss it. I also have a tendency to drop projects, or forget about projects when something new comes up (or a kid is born) and leave things unfinished. So in my ever-evolving effort up the path of self-improvement here’s my attempt at killing two birds with one stone and finishing off old writing projects. I present to you one of many unfinished drafts that never got posted:

Started 11/4/18

Last Saturday night I called Stacy from the parking lot. For the first time in years I was completely nervous. I don’t get nervous often, but this was my first 20 year high school reunion.

We moved from San Diego to the suburbs of Seattle in February of 1995, during the middle of my freshmen year of high school. I went from a low-income school where I was one of a few white kids in my grade, to a school of upper-middle class white kids. My youth group in SD was thriving, and was led by a dynamic mentor. Our church home in Seattle was a new plant, with just a few other teens, and a handful of volunteers. San Diego was sunny, Seattle was rainy. And I had just started to learn how to surf. The transition was tough. I struggled with fitting in. I struggled with making friends. I struggled with grades. I struggled with my self esteem. And I struggled with wether or not I was going to make it out of high school alive.

Things changed after a couple of years. I stopped trying to impress the wrong people, I got in with a great group of friends, dived headfirst into punk and ska music, even managed to ask out a couple of girls. But when I graduated, I decided that I would never live in Seattle again. I came home for a couple of summers, and to take care of my dad for a short time, but did my best to keep Seattle in my rearview mirror. The stories of hurt trumped everything else, and I categorically decided those were difficult years.

Over the past twenty years a lot has changed. One of the benefits of time is the perspective it brings. During my time in high school I blamed a lot of other people for the struggles I experienced. I blamed everyone else. As that blame shifted to others, mean words, accusations, and plenty of slanderous talk accompanied my memories of my time in Seattle. Over the course of time I have taken more responsibility for the actions of my past. I’ve come to realize that so my difficult time in Seattle was self imposed.

So when the time came for our 20 year reunion, I knew that I wanted to go. Not necessarily to reminisce, but to apologize to these people that I had blamed for my poor attitude for so long. It was a difficult decision, and I had every reason not to go (including the 2nd birthday of my son). But the Lord kept tugging at my heart. I was hoping that there would be a sense of peace from letting go of entrenched feelings, so that was my prayer. The Lord answered my prayers and then some.

I can honestly say my High School reunion was one of the best nights of my life.

Before I even walked in the door I ran into a friend I had forgotten about, who said they were glad to see me. We talked about their high school ska band (viva Los Guapos!) and walked on in. The whole night was one moment after another of seeing forgotten faces, friends from another lifetime, and people that I never thought I’d talk to again. 

Conversation flowed, and it didn’t take long for me to get every comfortable sharing about my journey as a youth minister. That was another part of the story that had me worried. I didn’t exactly live out my faith back in the day, so I wasn’t sure how that info would be received. Everyone had great responses to that, and I felt like it opened more doors than it closed.

The whole night was a blur of bouncing from one person to the next, sharing the excitement of catching up. We shared stories, talked about our lives, our families, our shared memories, all of the things that you’d hope for at a reunion. The amount of joy in the room climbed steadily through the night, as nervousness turned into joy. Looking around the room I could tell that others were feeling the same way. 

The only thing that did not go well was my plan to apologize to everyone. As I shared stories, friend after friend cut me off before I could to the part where I felt that I had wronged them. They shared stores of their own struggles and insecurities, mishaps, and difficult times. I realized early into the night that the need to apologize wasn’t there like I had anticipated. Instead, I found myself thanking people for their friendships and talking about how much i had respected and admired them back in the day. Story after story came up, and friend after friend came by and then it hit me…

Maybe high school wasn’t as bad as I thought it was.

As the night went on things only got better. Everyone was so busy chatting we pretty much all forgot to eat. A couple of old friends got the party going out on the dance floor. Goofy group photos were taken at booth. And I ended up talking to three of my biggest crushes at the same time for solid half hour (high school dj would never have seen that happening). I even ended up talking with one of the guys who bullied the most back in the day. 

By the time the event was done, most of us were realizing that we were too busy having fun to take any personal photos, so props to the few that made everyone tae a group pic. It took a while to say good bye to everyone, and i found myself chatting up a few of the folks I hadn’t really sought out before. Even those conversations went well. I’ll call it the benefit of time, maturity, and the desire to be a better person, and thank God for all of the above.

I got back to my car, and just sat there and smiled for a while and thanked God for a great evening. It felt like twenty years of weighted been lifted off of my shoulders. To say that I am relieved is an understatement, I am filled with joy at the way the night turned out.


A few months have passed and the overall excitement of the night has dispelled into a great memory to replace whatever bad ones I had back in the day. I’m still grateful to God for that night, and the perspective that it continues to bring. The truth is, I did struggle in high school, but I also had some great friends and built some great memories. I’m grateful for both, because that combination of triumph and failure during the formative years helped create so much of what I am proud of today.

Pointillism is artwork created by layering thousands of tiny dots into an image. If you look at a piece of pointillism art up close, you see nothing but the dots, but as you step back and expand your focus you start to see the image become clearer.

One of the big things I walked away from my reunion with was an appreciation for not getting caught up in the moment, especially the tough ones. The ability to step back and recognize that each moment is part of a much larger picture is a great comfort. It calls me to ponder how God sees us in our daily struggles, unable to see past the dot of the moment to take in how it plays into a beautiful work of art. Thank God that we have the blessing of time to give us a gimplse of that perspective.

And cheers to the Eastlake High School Class of 98. Go Wolves!


Dry Cleaning, Youth Ministry, and the Art of Kintsugi.

I had just finished my sophomore year of college in the summer of 2000, and had trekked back home across country with a friend of mine ready to make some money that summer. Dad had recently been re-diagnosed with a brain tumor, I had academic probation looming, and hadn’t yet told my parents about my bad grades. I figured making money that summer would help out a ton. The job fell through. I was at an all time low. I got frustrated, and went and signed on with a door to door sales company that I saw online. They promised huge commissions and easy work. I spent the next few weeks walking door to door training to sell small businesses on switching their credit card processing to whoever our client was. I was terrible at sales, still am.

I hadn’t made any money past my two week training period, and was starting to get desperate. I was on my feet driving and walking all day in a dress shirt, tie, and really uncomfortable dress shoes in one of the most beautiful places to be during the summer. One Wednesday morning I managed to get a dry cleaner to sign on with our company. They family owned business was eager to save money. I was glad to finally get a sale. There was only one problem.

I lied to make the sale.

I remember driving home across the lake during lunch ashamed of what I had done. How could I look my parents in the eye later that day? I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror.

I got home and ripped off my tie and threw it down on the driveway. My next door neighbor saw me, and asked what had me so pissed off.

After I told him that I hated my job, he told me he hated my job too. He owned a landscaping company and said he needed another english speaking guy on his crew to help deal with installs. It was tough work, but it was outside in one of the most pleasant places in the US during the summer. I accepted his offer, got in my car, drove 30 min back to the dry cleaners and told them to tear up the paperwork, and not trust anyone that came unsolicited through the door offering them ways to save money.

I sat in the car and prayed. I prayed that God would forgive me for ripping people off. For being so arrogant to assume that money would solve my problems. I was tired of having my priorities out of whack, and I knew that I didn’t want to be part of that system. I knew that there was another way of life for me that I had been ignoring.

It was at the little dry cleaner’s that I decided to become a youth minister.

Youth ministry had been on the horizon for a while, and it seemed like everyone else knew I would end up there. My parents knew, but were wise enough to let me figure it out myself. My friends knew. My professors knew. Everyone at my church seemed to know too. It seemed like the biggest surprise was not me telling everyone that I was going to change my career trajectory, but that it had taken me so long to figure it out.

I drove from the dry cleaner back to the home office, told my boss that I was quitting (her and the other lead were more upset about their lost commission) and drove home.

The next day I woke up early, put on some work shoes and gloves, and spent the rest of the summer installing yards and sprinklers, breaking up concrete and rough soil. It was perfect. Me and God had plenty of time for conversation. I ended up helping out with the youth ministry as a volunteer that summer as well. I came back and did the same the summer after my junior year. I was hooked.

Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold, creating a unique value in a broken object. Often times, the objects take on a greater beauty than before, and their value grows because of the unique nature of every repair.

I’m up in the Seattle area this weekend for my 20 year high school reunion. There’s several places that I wanted to visit while I’m here, and this little dry cleaner is one of them. It’s not much of a tourist attraction (actually, it’s not even open anymore) but it’s an important place for me. It’s a place where God starting pouring a little gold.

Tuesdays with Carl.

I met my friend Carl about 9 years ago when I started working at my previous church. Carl was in his late 70’s at the time, and served as counselor working out of our church. He offered to buy me lunch one Tuesday and we hit it off immediately. Walking across the street to grab lunch with Carl became a regular Tuesday event.

I can not understate how important his role as a friend and mentor was at that time in my life. I was coming off of a tough departure from my previous church, the church we worked for was navigating tough waters at that time, and my dating life was less than stellar. I was in my late 20’s, and in a place where it seemed like every big decision was like untying a giant knot. Carl taught me how to untie those knots. He consistently spoke in a gentle, clear, voice that dripped with Holy wisdom. He used scriptures as a powerful catalyst for thought, and as a razor sharp blade to cut through chaos.

Carl was also the first person to recognize that Stacy, my wife of three years, had that potential to be ‘the one’. His words of affirmation helped me navigate our relationship from simply talking, to dating, to proposal, and they still ring in my ears as our family continues to grow.

One of my favorite stories of the New Testament is the mentorship of Paul to Timothy. Paul, the wise veteran of faith takes this young man, Timothy, under his wing and helps shape him become a leader of the early church. Paul speaks to Timothy with respect, clarity, and a clear sense of purpose. He speaks as a man who is a few turns ahead on the trail, constantly relaying back detail on how to navigate potentially treacherous terrain.

We should all have a Paul, and be a Timothy.

We Should all have a Timothy, and be a Paul.

I think our culture is primed for a resurgence of the male mentor. We live in a time where so many young men are expected to be strong, but we don’t know what it means to be strong. Our male role models are increasingly limited, and often are caricatures created by Hollywood to entertain. How many of us would benefit from having a deep, meaningful, consistent conversation with someone we respected for their wisdom?

Carl was that mentor for me. He passed last night surrounded by family, encouraging him to embrace the reward for his faithful life. I will miss my friend and my mentor, but any sadness I might have is quickly overcome by appreciation for this man who embraced the spirit of Paul for me.

I’ve always felt like the best way to mourn someone who was faithful, was to live in a way that shows respect for the way they loved the Lord. I try and model my marriage and parenting after my dad, my youth ministry after my youth minister, and I guess now my ‘Paul and Timothy’ opportunities after my friend Carl.

I look forward to finding the next Paul in my life, and the next Timothy as well.

I think Carl would agree.

One love, one heart.

Ministry Toolbox: The Minimalist Calendar

One of the easiest ministry traps to fall into is over-calendaring your ministry. Early on in my ministry career I struggled with this, and have worked hard to find a balance that makes sense for our church. Even with the addition of several events to our calendar this year, we run a pretty sparse calendar compared to a lot of my compatriots. Here are a few thoughts on the benefits of a minimal calendar.

Minimalist art isn’t just simple, it is very intentional. Every brush stroke has to be well though out to make sense. Likewise, in ministry, it’s important for every event to be well thought out, and make sense. “Is this event necessary?” needs to be asked of everything. Everything. Pulling events from the calendar to only the necessary will help you focus on events with meaning, and purpose. That doesn’t mean you cut out every ‘fun’ event, it means you understand that ‘fun’ events are a necessary part of the ministry calendar. So is worship, community, service, etc.

On a related note, the fewer events you have the easier it is to communicate their meaning and potential impact. Also, it makes it easier to promote those events, and give them the necessary attention beforehand. I find it a lot easier to promote an event as a ‘big deal’ if my families haven’t heard that from me for three different events the past week.

Over calendaring puts an misplaced value on attendance. I get it, scripture says that we’re not to forsake the assembly. But when your assembly takes up every night of your week what you are actually communicating is attendance is valued, not the power of God in the assembly. And what about those that can’t make every event? What are you communicating to them? Are they going to feel as connected to the body if (gasp) their kids happen to play sports or want to be in the school play? I worked at a church that had a clique problem (surprise surprise). When I looked at who felt ‘in’ and who felt ‘out’ there was a clear line between families that lived in close proximity to the building and could easily attend multiple weekly events, and those who had to travel at least 15 min+ to get there. Also in the ‘out’ group were kids with single parents, and low income families. I would argue that a busy calendar is not meeting the needs of a single parent family, but creating more stress. And if your events cost money (even gas money) to attend, theres is an even bigger need to filter those down to the worthwhile and necessary.

Speaking of parents, I would be hard-pressed to find a parent in my ministry that would say “We don’t have much going on, I wish there was something more to fill our free time.” Most of our families are busy; too busy. Over calendaring reinforces that busyness. How are our families supposed to learn to say no to busyness if we’re only asking them to give up non-church practices, and filling up their time with church events? Healthy families spend time together. Reinforce that, and communicate that with your calendar.

A packed calendar will keep new people from joining your ministry. When I was starting my first full-time ministry job, I planned and event and asked our teens to invite their friends. They all said that would be easy because all of their friends were in the youth group. They did so much together that they didn’t have time to develop relationships outside of the church. That was great for making friends, but terrible for outreach. And for the families that do want to join your ministry, expecting them to participate in a packed calendar is like asking someone to merge on to the freeway while riding a moped. It’s possible, but not very wise. At the very least, a packed calendar is communicating to new families that you either expect them to have nothing going on during the week, or they need to drop whatever it is they’re doing to be a part of the church.

A minimal calendar allows you to focus on the events that make sense for your ministry. It’s easy to look at other church events and say, “We should do that too”. Every ministry has a different personality, and that personality can change very easily over the course of a couple years. What worked for another group, may not work for your ministry. What worked in the past, may not make sense anymore. I’m looking at one of our biggest events in spring right now, and planning on making some massive changes to it’s structure, maybe even it’s existence. I’m sure that’ll meet some resistance, but the best way to silence that critique is to keep doing things that make more sense.

Minimalist calendars allow for healthy pastors. If the expectation of the church is that the pastor is at every event, and there’s a ton of events, what is the church communicating to the pastor’s family? Healthy pastors have a healthy balance of work and should be able to model that for other families. Also, if a pastor feels they need to fill the calendar to justify their position, or their salary, then there is an unhealthy system or set of expectations in effect.

I love church events, and I know how easy it is to say, “This was great, we should do this more often.” But my encouragement today is to take a look at what you have on your calendar, and what values it communicates. Talk with your leadership about why you do what you do, what needs to be changed, tweaked, developed, or let go altogether. Have the courage to make the necessary changes. Focus on making what does make it to your calendar your very best effort, and give those events over to the Lord as worship.

One love, one heart.

Ramblings 8.29.17

I’m not sure if this is the average age of the people on my Facebook feed getting older, or a commentary on our culture at large, but it seems like I’m seeing more and more “If I won the lottery I’d pay off my bills” posts. Evidently buying a yacht with a helicopter pad isn’t as cool as it used to be.

Our intern Scotty is non-stop basketball talk. With the Chargers off the radar for me, I’m thinking of picking up an NBA team. Probably the Thunder. It’d be nice to have a team in common with some of my OC friends. Although they did do to Seattle what the Chargers just did to SD. Maybe I’ll be a free agent fan.

While we were at lunch today we saw an accident at the intersection from across the street. From what we could tell, a man hit an elderly woman who was crossing the street. I was reminded of the quote from Mr Rodgers that reminded us to look for ‘the helpers’, those that come into a bad situation and help. It was also a great reminder that on any given day someone is having the worst day of their life.

Speaking of helpers, is there anything more refreshing on the news than seeing hundreds of people rushing towards Houston to help rescue people from the flood waters? I’ve got nothing but respect for folks like the ‘Cajun Navy’ and others who step into serve. Definitely has me asking what I can do to help.

Props to the guy on the news who responded to a reporter with, “ We lost everything, but God is good. So We’re thankful.”

Every year I pick a word to focus on with the youth ministry. My word is leadership. Our intern picked integrity. I think integrity and leadership are two principles that work phenomenally together, and I’m excited to see how that manifests over the course of the year. What a great one-two punch. What do you think of when those two words come up?

Little man is 11 months old today. 11. Wow. Time is already flying by. He’s crawling at nascar speeds, and should be walking soon. So far the toughest part of parenting is trying not to rush growing up, miss younger days, and focus on enjoying where he’s at now.

If you haven’t seen the movie Under an Arctic Sky, check it out. Surfing under the Aurora Borealis in Iceland. Nuff said.

At first I didn’t really get all of the hype for the eclipse, especially in a place so far off the path of total coverage. But props to everyone who took a minute and stared into the sky at one of the many marvel’s of God’s creation. After seeing a billion amazing photos aftwerwards, I definitely had a much better appreciation of the hype.

There’s a Facebook group up for my 20 year reunion next year. That can’t be right, 20 year reunions are for old guys haha.

I’m doing my best getting pumped for the football season, but it’s hard not having a team in my hometown anymore. I wish nothing but the best for the players, but the organization will not get another dime from me as long as LA is in their name. I’m going to do my best to hop into the 12’s crew for the Seahawks, but its difficult to root for a team from afar.

Me and Traaavs dropped the ball last week. We went to see one of our favorite punk bands, and saw the lead singer (a legend to both of us) walking down the street downtown and went and met him. Neither one of us thought to get a picture though. We were starstruck. Oh well, at least we shook hands with a legend. Bonus points for getting our pic with the lead singer of another band, and running into (and actually talking with) members of another great band.

Midway through trying to toddler-proof the condo last week I realized there was no way to complete that mission. Tabs on the drawers and cabinets will have to do.

The Babylon Bee is hands down the best satire site on the web. “Joel Osteen Sails Luxury Yacht Through Flooded Houston To Pass Out Copies Of ‘You Best Life Now’ ” might be one of their best headlines ever.

Our local coffee shop is like a real-life Babylon Bee article. It’s constantly filled with Pastors and Seminary students. It’s like all of these people have sought out a coffee shop to engage others and share their faith, and everybody here is already Christian.

More later.

One love, one heart.