Slopes.

I left Alabama Friday morning to embark upon a journey with a dozen other young adults to Snowshoe, West Virgina for a weekend of skiing, snowball fights, and other miscellaneous winter revelry.

But that was Friday.

Now its Sunday morning, and what was meant for a weekend to get away, escape, relax, and come back home refreshed.
Instead, I’m cold, wet, frustrated, and indifferent.

My first (and only) morning on the slopes has become somewhat symbolic of  this trip for me.
Great movement, then a sudden crash.
Followed by a significant amount of frustrations, and the inability to get up on my own.

Leading up to this trip was kind of a mixed bag for me.
Part of me really, really wanted to come.
Part of me really, really didn’t.

And now the morning of our late evening departure, that still holds true.
Part of me has had a really, really great time.
And part of me really, really hasn’t.

Interestingly, true to form, the better times have been one on one conversations.
The simple things.
I’m still awkward in the grander scheme of the group scenario.
Or, at least thats how I perceive it.

Sometimes I wonder if I really fit.
Sometimes I wonder if I ever will.

Definitely planning on spending most of today on my own.
I need the space.

Peace and love.

Pace.

Finding rhythm is something I’m discovering more and more every day that I suck at.

What are my limits?
It seems I’ve pushed them for years without slowing.

Maybe now its the reality that I’m not 18 anymore.
Or maybe its the weight of legitimate responsibilities.
Perhaps it could be the cumulative result of years of running beyond my abilities.

Whatever it is, I’ve hit a wall.

Something has to go.
But it feels like at this point that I can’t finish, and I can’t quit.
I’m suspended somewhere between the two, being equally drawn to both.
I can’t even contemplate it without being broken down.

But which is best for me?

Something needs to be taken off my plate.
I’m beginning to think I was too quick to reload after leaving my last church.
There were some scars that I haven’t let heal properly.

I’m slowly learning that maybe its okay to not try to do everything.
Maybe its okay not to finish some things.
I’ve never given up on this kind of pursuit before.
That may be the hardest part for me.

The realization of my greatest fears, combined in one overwhelming instant: failure, and disappointing others.

The line between God’s sovereignty and his mercy and grace blurs for me from time to time.
Weeping lasts for a night, but joy comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5)
And that has been the case for me lately.

More nights than not I find myself falling asleep in a pool of tears.
There hasn’t been anything I find joy in.
The only thing that resembles rest in my life now is when sleep finally overtakes my beleaguered body.

I’ve found some peace during the Monday night prayer service at the Storehouse.
Its good, but its still so unfamiliar.
A safe place where I have yet to grow comfortable enough to enjoy the freedom provided there.

I suppose its no coincidence that everywhere I seem to turn these days, these words follow me:

But now, this is what the LORD says—
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name; you are mine.

When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
the waves will not overtake you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.

For I am the LORD, your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. (Isaiah 43:1-3)

So though I do not understand why I feel like this in this season, still I worship.
Because He is with me.
These waves, these worries, these responsibilities will not overtake me.

Because I am His.

Peace and love.

Inadequate.

Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. - 1 Peter 5:8

Satan knows us.
And he knows our weaknesses.

And like a lion, he stalks his prey.
He knows when we grow weak and weary.
He knows when is the best time to attack.

For me, it has always been in the little things.
This was made especially evident to me this weekend.

A little background first…

When I was in school at Snead, I suffered from depression and anxiety.
No real reason to, everything was fine in school, with my family, everywhere.
But for whatever reason, be it chemical imbalances or subconscious fears, I had a problem.
And for a long time, I was on medication for that.

And it affected my body in ways I hadn’t really anticipated.
Between December and February of that year, I gained 50 pounds and 4 pants sizes.
Such a flux in weight prompted the doctor to take me off one of the medications.
And eventually, I was taken off the other.

I’d always had a fairly hair-trigger temper.
But something along the way changed.
Big problems and issues never really bothered me anymore.
It was just the stupid little things.

Things like my ironing board being broken and not folding right frustrating me to the point of shaking.
Or, such as this Sunday, not knowing how to turn off the projector at church led me to sit in my car and cry for at least fifteen minutes before eventually deciding to eat lunch with some friends from church.

Stupid little things.

When I first moved here and mistakenly had the power turned on at the wrong apartment causing me to have to rebuy all my groceries, no big deal.
When I was in Florence and had a fender bender on the church bus, I laughed it off.
When I found out that the setup for worship was going to be different this week, I embraced the challenge.

But something sent me over.

It could be that I put way too much pressure on myself.
That my expectations for myself are incredibly unrealistic.
That I don’t really understand what my limits are.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. - Philippians 4:6-7

That for whatever reason, I have so much trouble obeying this verse.
I see clear hope in it, but not real practicality.
And that really bothers me.

I do believe that the peace of God is adequate for my needs.
And I know that I am nothing without Him.

I see myself as being this weird kind of faith anomoly.
Whereas many people have problems trusting God with the big things, I have the same problem with smaller things.
Really, insignificant things.
Minor details.

I am too inadequate to fully trust His adequacy.

And then God speaks to me.
Not through a burning bush nor a donkey.
Not even through a hymn nor a Bible verse.
Of all random things, as I sit in my car red-faced with streaming tears, He chooses the shuffle on my iPod to play Jason Mraz featuring James Morrison.

Yes, that Jason Mraz.
The song was “Details in the Fabric.”
Here are some of the key lyrics for me…

=====
Calm down
Deep breaths
And get yourself dressed
Instead of running around
And pulling all your threads and
Breaking yourself up

Hang on
Help is on the way
Stay strong
I’m doing everything

And everything will be fine

Are the details in the fabric?
Are the things that make you panic?
Are your thoughts results of static cling?

Everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Hearts will hold
=====

Some days are better than others.
Sunday I had a moment of weakness, of feeling overwhelmed.
And the enemy attacked.

But praise God, help was already on the way!

Here’s to a better tomorrow today.
Peace and love.

Impressions.

I’ve always heard that first impressions are incredibly important.
In fact, there are scenarios where first impressions are all you get.

Job interviews, for example, are one instance of when you really want to put your best foot forward.
You know, by avoiding such behavior as walking past the interviewers to get a cup of coffee or making sarcastic comments such as, “How’d that work out for you?”

But, I think we all know that the reason for this post is not about job interviews.
As many of you know, I gave in to the suggestions of a coworker and went to a speed dating event last Friday night sponsored by WAY-FM, Asbury UMC, and Shea’s Express.

You know the drill, right?
We’ve all seen it on tv and in movies.
You get a limited amount of time to try to figure out if you’re compatible with a total stranger.
In our case, it was three minutes.
I’ll talk more about this later…

I went into this event with no expectations.
Well, thats not entirely true.
I had decided that it would be one of two things:
1. A tremendous amount of fun, or
2. An epic distaster

And full of unattractive people.
Thats right, I said it.
Who else at this stage in the game isn’t married yet…wait…
Nevermind…

Luckily for me, it was definitely option 1.
Though, for a few minutes at the beginning, it was leaning toward disaster as I looked down the tables at the ladies I would be meeting and noticed that they were all at least 7 years my senior.
Naturally I inquired of the organizers how  they went about dividing the age groups…because by the chance I was in a 26-35 group, it was going to be a rough night.
Once I asked, they realized there had been a mistake and that I belonged in the other group – the younger group – and so I was moved.

If I’m not mistaken, there were 13 girls to get to know.
And there are a lot of gaps in information to be left in such a rush.
For example, I don’t think I mentioned once that I was a student pastor.
But to be fair, none of them mentioned their kids, either.

I met two sets of twins.
I met Alabama graduates that were Auburn fans and Auburn graduates that were Alabama fans.
I met vegetarians, architects, school teachers, loan officers, hairdressers, and other occupations that I can’t remember.
Needless to say, quite the versatile crowd.

Like I said before, we got three minutes with each girl.
And based on those impressions, we had to choose at the end of the night any that we thought we’d be interested in getting to know.
This is where it gets difficult.
Not the choosing part, but the curiosity of whether anyone would choose me.

Well, some did.
I won’t say how many, but I will say that I can count them on one hand.
(Some of you will get that reference…many of you will not.)

As far as there being romantic connections and the possibility of meeting the future Mrs. Kyle Gilbert, that didn’t happen.
That wasn’t the point of the night.

I got out.
Had a good time.
Made some friends with guy and girls in town.
Thats what this was about for me.

If I had met my soulmate, that would have been awesome.
Who knows, maybe I have met her already.
Or maybe I should quit my job and start teaching.
That apparently worked for Ted Mosby, or at least thats what the teaser at the end of Season 4 leads us to believe…

I suppose time will tell.

Peace and love.

Storehouse.

A few weeks ago, I took on a part-time job at Asbury United Methodist Church in Madison, Alabama as the Sound Technician for the traditional worship services.
Of course, I’m still learning my way around, trying to figure out exactly what my job is.
So, for me to post in great detail about that really isn’t in the realm of possibility just yet.

Instead, this has more to do with another ministry of Asbury UMC which I have quickly grown very fond of.

One of the most difficult things about my former church position was the lack of ability to worship and spend time with people my own age.
I did go to the Well in Florence for a while, but, due to the distance from my home (over 100 miles), it was a near impossibility to really develop meaningful relationships out of that.
Not to mention the driving time, late nights, and sleeping on couches in conjunction with having to be at work the next morning.
It was good, and I loved every time I got to be there, but it wasn’t the best of situations.

I was quickly informed about a ministry of Asbury called the Storehouse.
I was told this is a time not only of worship, but community for college students and young adults.
The 20-something demographic.

So, a couple of weeks ago, I decided I would check it out.
And I absolutely LOVED the way they have this set up.

People generally start showing up around 6:00 to share a free meal together.
Sitting around tables having dinner with folks is a great way to meet people and make new friends.
I should know.

After everyone has had their fill, and Ted makes a few announcements about upcoming events (which now include a November trip to Gatlinburg and Super-hero Flag Football), everyone makes their way into the sanctuary for worship.
This is probably one of my favorite worship settings that I’ve been in.
Since I’ve been there, the sanctuary is larger than what the crowd needs, so you can pretty much go wherever and be able to worship without worrying about bothering someone beside you.

Admittedly, I think it would be cool if someone rewrote the lyrics of Phish’s Farmhouse to “Welcome, this is the Storehouse…” and use it as a call to worship.
Ted, if you read this, toss the idea around to some of the more creative folks.
It could work.

But here is the thing that really sticks out to me about the Storehouse that is different from the Well, Discovery (from BCM days), or anything else I’ve been to.
The speaker doesn’t finish the sermon.
Instead, small groups break out and discuss the implications and applications of the message.
To me, this leads to a greater strength in community, as we get to hear from our peers.
Hear their thoughts on the topic, and get to share our own.

I’m looking forward to getting more involved with the Storehouse as time goes by.

I really enjoy the traditional services at Asbury.
There is a solid group of pastors that I enjoy hearing that challenge me in profound ways.
But there is something about being with people in similar places in life that can’t be described.

The first night I was there, one song spoke to me above the rest.

I’ve finally found where I belong
I’ve finally found where I belong, in Your presence
I’ve finally found where I belong, its to be with You, to be with You

In this, I have found my community.
I have found where I belong.

Have you found yours?

Peace and love.