In line at McDonald's...

I like streaks. They motivate me. Namely silly, ridiculous streaks. I don't want them to be broken. One of my favorite Seinfeld's is Jerry breaking his "thowing up streak" because of the hated black and white cookie. Recently, I broke a streak that I've self-imposed for 11 years...I ate at McDonald's, Mickey D's. I know it may seem absurb but I've had an eleven year aversion from this evil empire of fast food. Why you may ask? Simply, I had a bad experience. But what has suddenly sparked this rebirth has been access to a '50% off all McDonald's food card.' It is glorious. Oh, the bliss of paying fifty cents for a double cheeseburger. Most days, I can be in and out of there spending under two dollars...most days.

Well, the other day, I'm standing in a long line and in front of me is a father, around forty years old, and his son, around 7. The man looked old for his age, reserved, dirty, wearing tattered clothes. The father is so proud of his son. He is drenched with joy, appeasement, and love. He put his old worn and wrinled hand on his son's head and left it there until his son ordered. He didnt say a word the entire time, just waited patiently for his son to step up and order. He was so content as was his boy. So the boy finally stepped up to order and he asked for a happy meal, giving the cashier crinkled money that his dad had obviously provided - dad's hand still on his boys head. I thought, "there's got to be something here." Something in me resonates deeply wanting that kind of approval and belonging that the son had to feel. Even if the son didn't feel it, the father was pleased. To me this was merely a picture. A glimpse at how God looks at those who are His, with love and approval and pride, not removing his hand from our heads. Pleased when we feel this and when we do not. I like this...

Beach and John Mayer

June and July of this summer I'm spending on the coast of South Carolina assisting with a leadership camp of sorts for college students. As one may imagine (or may not imagine) there are many opportunities for frustration, head bumping, shame, tiredness, and I have been wondering lately where do I go to relinquish these emotions? Where do I go to deal? I’ve been pricked by this quote this week. CS Lewis once said, "If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair."

I’ve been thinking, when I’m pressed to deal with something my comfort has to be truth: that the very Inventor of truth loves me. I’ve sampled other comforts to find that those comforts aren’t really comforts at all, just cheap substitutes and temporary medicines. John Mayer, now jazz extraordinaire, once wrote, “dizzy from the shopping mall, I searched joy but I bought it all, it doesn’t help the hunger pains because first I have to drown for it to ever satiate…something’s missing.” I want truth at the expense of “comfort” every time because therein is real comfort.

Purposeful Blogging: Is there such a thing?

I don't think so with a clause. Many would say it's "glorified venting." I would agree. But where's Alanis Morrisette when you need her? I'm going to blog about why blogs are senseless. I guess it's just that I want to resist the subtle temptation of being defined by how good or bad my blog is. There's something in me that says I want to be most novel most witty and most unique, then I will have arrived. This information space that many fill with thoughts is comparable to an ant in our solar system. It's seemingly insignificant. But I'm in. My process of processing information has to go somewhere, an avenue to spill my guts with anonymity (save the three readers that may actually visit, my wife included).

I'm 24. I have no business writing "publish worthy" or "non-publishworthy (for that matter)" books or even essays for a couple more decades or after a series of postgraduate degrees. I would even suggest that I will have few "publish worthy" blogs. Yet, the blog has become my outlet for thoughts, reflections, and astonishments. The purpose behind all of this is to somehow flesh out my own interpretations of daily, weekly encounters with life and people and God. It seems that to make the most valiant effort to interpret these things, it must be done with the overarching assumption that there is a cohesive reason for the events that take place in my life and others'. They are in themselves purposeful and meaningful. So I proceed, not with caution but expectation to see what the future archives of this blog will absorb and maintain.