Strength

It wasn't my fault. I was cheated.

When I came back to baseball after missing my 7th grade year as a result of a late sign-up, I experienced a miraculous transformation in my game. I went from being a kid who barely played and never contributed to an all-star catcher and a major part of the best team in the league. What happened? I don't know.

The next year I moved up to High School and joined the Frosh-Soph team. I went right back to riding the pine. This time, though, it wasn't for lack of ability. I was slotted as the backup catcher to the best player on our team. Chris Nelson, one of the few sophmores on the team, was also a catcher. For the first few weeks of the season I warmed the bench and practiced my seed cracking skills.

Then my chance came.

The catcher on the Junior Varsity team got injured and Chris was called up. Into the 8 hole on Coach Z's lineup card went my name. And I did alright. I was never a great hitter, but I was solid defensively. Then the varsity head coach pulled me aside after a game.

During the game, a runner at first got too far off the base after a pitch. I gave him a pump fake. He froze maybe twenty feet off of first base. I had a choice. I could throw it to second base which would prevent him from advancing, but also allow him to safely return to first. Or I could throw it to first, a more risky move. There's a better chance of getting the runner out, but also a better chance the runner takes off and beats the first baseman's throw to second.

None of this went through my mind.

I don't know why I threw to first and took the risky option, but I did. And we got the runner out. After the game, Coach Ruth came up to me and affirmed my decision and the guts I had to go after the runner. As a fourteen year old, I probably did a Beavis and Butthead, "Wow."

I felt good and played with more confidence and guts the rest of the year. I became a better hitter and a better catcher. The following year Coach Ruth took a job at another school and we got a new coach. As for me, I moved up to Junior Varsity, started every game, hit better, and helped my team win league.

The next year I moved up to Varsity. I assumed I was going to start since I had two good years under my belt. I was a solid defensive catcher and an average hitter.

I guess I was too average, because the new head coach decided to move our best hitter to the catcher's position. I busted my butt in preseason and tried to win the job from him. At the end, the coach went with the (much) better hitter.

From that point on, I started maybe a dozen games over the next two years. I made excuses, embraced injuries, and took to my role on the bench. I complained about the coach and pretty much inspired JT's "cry me a river."

I quit. That's the truth.

Sure, I could hang out at the local bar and convince my drinking buddies of how good I could have been if it wasn't for some (fill in the blank) coach. I could pass it off as not being my fault, how I was slighted. Frankly, I could probably convince some people that was true.

At the end of the day, I quit. I chose to sulk and not to fight. I chose to go to the pity party over going to work. I chose the easy way.

I run frequently. And I hate it.

It's probably less than 10% of the time when I go running that I'm excited about it. I get no more than 30 feet from my house and I begin a 20 second debate on whether I should turn back. "This is hard." "I think I'm cramping up." "I'm missing Wheel of Fortune." I make excuses for why I shouldn't endure the pain of the next hour. Most of the time I don't cave. Most of the time I run.

And that's why I do it. Running, for me, is more than a physical experience. It trains in me the ability to say no....to myself.

I say yes far too often. I say yes to to eating rediculous amounts of candy during Christmas and Easter. I say yes to avoiding the difficult conversation that should happen with another person. I say yes to to putting down the book and pulling up ESPN on my computer. I say yes to stopping at 8 reps when the workout calls for 10. I say yes to all sorts of temptations.

Basically, I say yes to the easy choice; to the choice that presents the least bit of resistance and discomfort.

When I was trekking in Nepal last month my friend told me that I was a strong hiker. After days of prideful giddiness over the comment, I began to reflect on what strength really is. What does it mean to really be strong?

Does it mean bench pressing 200 pounds?

Does it mean withstanding the urge to cry when Rose lets go of Jack's hand in Titanic?

How about beating testicular cancer, winning the Tour de France seven times, and leaving your family in the process? Is that strong? (sorry - tangent rant)

For some people, that stuff is easy. It comes natural. It's not difficult for Arnold Schwarzenager to lift a couple hundred pounds. Heck, he could probably do it if he had never touched weights before.

My conclusion, strength is the ability to endure discomfort.

Trekking comes easy to me. It's natural. I think my body was built for it. I have abnormally strong legs (though I never really work them out) and I have the lung capacity of an olympic rower. For some reason, I was built that way. So hiking long uphill distances at elevation isn't as hard for me as it would be for someone who might naturally have weak legs and poor lung capacity. Am I strong for being good at the things that come easy to me?

Real strength comes when we face those things that are hard and painful for us. Overcoming those things should not be easy. If you want to run a marathon and you've never run more than a neighborhood block, the road ahead of you will be tough. If you want to better manage your finances even though you have a Starbucks and Nordstrom habit, it's not going to be easy. If you want to be a better boyfriend/girlfriend even though you have made bad or selfish decisions in the past, it's not going to all of a sudden become easy. The finish line won't get closer. Nordstroms won't magically disappear. The perfect girlfriend won't all of a sudden make you into the perfect boyfriend. You have to work at it.

This new year, go to work. Overcome yourself. Avoid comfort and tackle the things that cause you discomfort. Don't make excuses. Don't look for ways out. Don't fool yourself thinking you can grow without discomfort. You can do it. It won't be easy, but you'll be stronger for it.

Organic

It should have been on my list. In hindsight, I want to add it. It is worthy.

I call it my "30 by 30" list. Thirty things I want to do before I turn thirty years old. It's not a complete list yet and I doubt it will be before I turn thirty, but there are some sweet things I hope to do on there. Like hike the John Muir Trail or rock a mullet or tip someone $100. Some I have knocked off, like learn to two-step and ask a complete stranger out. Most of them, though, will hopefully occupy my next 498 days.

Well, I experienced something totally awesome a week back and I want to add it to the list.

I rode a motorcycle in a 3rd world country.

It was organic.

I don't usually buy organic products. I know it's better for the environment, the plants, and for me. But I'm cheap and an organic potato costs as much as a 5lb bag of pesticide laced taters. Really when it comes down to it, that's it. You can explain the benefits and try to reason me, but at the end of the day, I'm cheap. Sorry.

But I did experience something organic....and I liked it. No, I'm not ready to buy organic fruit, join the Democratic party (nor the Republican for that matter), or talk to the Green Peace guy outside Trader Joe's, but it did open my eyes to something.

The last time I was in Nepal (2002) I worked at an orphanage/boarding school. It was a great experience for myself and, I hope, a great experience for the kids as well. It was during the middle of Nepal's decade long civil war and things heated up when we were there. So much so, that the organization we were working with decided to pull us out the country early. We were on a plane to Thailand in less than 24 hours. So, our goodbyes to the kids and the country was a blur.

So, being back in the country for the first time since then, I decided to pay a visit. The orphanage is in the town of Dhulikel, which is about 90 minutes outside of Kathmandu by bus. That was the plan...take a bus to the town and back on my one free day in Kathmandu. Then I had a stroke of genius.

These are rare so I try to take advantage of them. You never know when, or if, another one will occur again. So I acted.

Why not rent a motorcycle and drive there? Sure I haven't been on a motorcycle in over a year. Sure it's driving in a 3rd world country on the other side of the road. But it's only $7 a day to rent a bike.

Did I mention that I'm cheap?

I arrived at the rental building at 8am and traded my passport (security deposit) for a sport bike that boasted a 150cc engine and shiny blue paint. I strapped on the helmet I was given, flipped down the visor, and then flipped it back up. It must have been dragged along the asphalt. It was scratched like the underside of a teenage boy's skateboard. As I drove away through the tourist heavy area of Thamel, it dawned on me, they never asked for proof of a motorcycle license or even whether I knew how to operate one. I must project, "he's tough, awesome, and knows what he's doing."

8:15am on a weekday in a major city is not the best time to take your 15 year old child on their first behind the wheel experience. 8:15am on a weekday in the capital city of a 3rd world country is also probably not the best time to reacquaint yourself with driving a motorcycle. But it had to do.

As I drove through the narrow alleyways dodging potholes and people, I quickly realized that sidewalks, lanes, signals, and the horn were different from my previous experience with them in the states. For starters, there really aren't any sidewalks in Kathmandu. Where do people walk you ask? Yep, right down the middle of the street. And so, they are an obstacle. What about lanes? They're there. Maybe one day they were adhered to, but not today. Two cars can take up a lane or one car can take up two lanes. A bus can pass at anytime so there are times when your "lane" is being almost completely occupied by an oncoming bus. At this moment, the shoulder becomes your friend. Turn signals? I'm pretty sure they are for decoration only. The horn? Well, that puppy is gold in Nepal. If you're horn is busted you may as well take the bus. It's not an instrument to dispense anger, but rather a symphony of "hey look at me." It alerts everyone within ear shot of where you are. Passing a bus? Beep, beep, beep. Coming up on a crowd of people walking down the street? Beep, beep, beeeep. Enjoying too much silence and sanity? Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beeeeep!

So, driving in Nepal is different. Organic? Yes.

Driving through the city and then the hill country of Nepal alerted all my senses. You become one with your bike as you feel every part of the road. There's no need to use your mirrors. Your ears becomes tuned to the constant horns around you. You're constantly scanning the horizon for people about to dart out and the road for craters to emerge. You can smell taste the exhaust of never smogged buses on your tongue (that was one I could do without).

Most of all, though, driving through Nepal was about sensing movement and motion. I never had to slam on my breaks or accelerate to avoid an accident. I had to anticipate the next movement of the bus, dog, and taxi. I had to watch and feel where the pedestrian, cow, or motorcycle would go. As I found my space in the throngs of other, I had be aware of all their slight movements and always be ready to adjust to fit myself in amongst them

And yet, it was totally fluid. It was completely natural. It was organic. And I liked it.

For a day, I was spiderman.

Dichotomy

India is a dichotomy in the purest sense.

I arrived home yesterday from my travels in Nepal and India. If it wasn't for compartitively cheap airfare out of Delhi, my travels would have been limited to Nepal. India was never on my radar. It was not a place I had much desire to visit. No real reason for that. It just never interested me.

My time in India was short, but full. In my three days in the country, I saw three major cities and had a variety of experiences. At the end of it all, my conclusion? India is....India. As far as I know, there is no place like it. It's a dichotomy from block to block and person to person.

Varanasi, arguably the holiest city of the world, is the destination of millions of pilgrims every year. Each day, locals and people from all over the world come to participate in the holy ritual of bathing in the Ganges river to wash away their sins. Holy water? Maybe. The water has 1.5 million faecal coliform bacteria per 100mL of water. In water that is safe for bathing this figure should be less than 500.

In India, cows are revered and monkeys are praised. Dogs? The only thing they are worthy of is a beating.

Shoes are removed as you enter homes, buildings, and places of worship to keep the area clean. If you need to relieve yourself, the gutter on the side of the street is an acceptable and common place to do so.

India is home to a third of the world's poor with over 40% of the population living on under $1.25 a day. India is also fourth on the list of countries with the most billionaires (USD) - behind the US, China, and Russia.

A local man told me that, "Nine out ten Indians are bad people. They are dangerous. The other one [Indian] is like Ghandi."

This is India.

Did I love India? Yes, parts.

Did I hate India? Yes, parts.

In the end, India is India.

Delayed Dreams

You should have seen me on the Annapruna Circuit and Base Camp treks. I was a machine. I jammed. Our group hiked fast, passed other trekkers, and never slowed down for hills. Additionally, we carried our own 30-40lb packs while most other trekkers employed porters to carry their gear. We crushed it.

When I booked my flights a few months back it made sense to stay as late as possible. I'm cheap and prefer to get the most out of my airfare. It didn't matter that I would be staying in Nepal on my own. It gave me the opportunity to pursue a dream that's been with me since high school. When I was forced to read Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air, an account of the 1996 tragedy on Everest, it lit a desire in me to see the monumental mountain in person. Almost a dozen years later, the dream was about to be realized. I could do the trek to Base Camp in my extra two weeks in Nepal.

The dream will have to wait. It might have been the stomach virus I got on the first day that caused me to regularly empty my bowels for the next 48 hours. It might have been the fact that I labored to hike at a snail's pace, repeatedly being passed by elderly people. It might have been that my body was just done with trekking after three straight weeks of it. Maybe my body thought we were done with this nonsense after three days rest, a half dozen movies, and four nights of steak dinners. Maybe it was the fact that all the cute girls were hiking down while I was among a rare few hiking up this late in the season. It could have been the fact that after hiking with friends for three weeks I was now hiking alone.

So, after a couple days on the trail, I turned back. Tail between my legs, I labored back to Lukla, boarded a flight to Kathmandu, and prepared to go home early.

And that's okay.

As much as I want to see Everest up close, I want to enjoy it. I didn't enjoy the first two days and I doubt I would have enjoyed the next 12 hiking alone. There should be more excitement about an adventure like this. But what I've been most excited about for the last couple weeks is coming home. I'm ready. I'm ready to play with Stout, see family and friends, coach baseball, find a job, hang out at church, waste time at coffee shops, line dance, not live out of a suitcase, and enjoy some sort of routine. I'm ready.

So I'm coming home...hopefully within the next week. For me, right now, that's exciting.

Perspective

When I was in second grade I landed the lead role in the school play. I was to be George Washington. For those of you who don't know, he was the first president of the US of A and, therefore, the best. How did I land this role you ask? Well, I took acting classes after school since pre-K and I straight studied the characters on Sesame Street. What made them so good, so funny, so real!? I had to know. So I went to work. And all that work paid off. I got the lead.

Okay, so it didn't actually happen like that. I never took an acting class and never paid enough attention to Big Bird to gain anything more than some laughs and the ability to say my ABCs. But I did land the lead in the school play. How did that happen? Was it a result of hard work? Nope. A great audition? Nope. Did I look the part? No, again.

I was selected for the lead role because when the teacher reached into the bowl the slip of paper she pulled out had "Blake Naylor" written on it (that's me in case you stumbled upon my blog by accident).

It was random, completely.

That doesn't seem fair, does it? When they read the first name most people assumed the last name would be Armstrong. Blake Armstrong was a fifth grader and he had already done some acting. He would go on to shoot commercials or BB guns or something like that. All that to say, he should have gotten the part. Not me.

Life's not fair. Admit it, you've said it. Maybe you were a kid. Maybe it was college. Maybe you said it recently.

Now, when you said it, was the "not fair" you were talking about in reference to yourself? Was life, at that moment, not fair for you? If you're like me (which you probably aren't because you are most likely cool and not awkward - why exactly are you reading my blog?), then yes, you say life's not fair most often when things aren't going the way you would like them to.

How often have you said it on behalf of someone else? Like life isn't fair, but it's not you who have been slighted, but someone else?

Media trains us to feel like things are out of balance and we are the ones in need of something to bring life back to fairness. We need, deserve, and are required to have certain "necessities" like lattes, lexus', and large screen TVs. We deserve it. We find a reason why we deserve it. Someone else has it and so we feel like it's only fair that we have it too. It's only fair. Why should they have it and we suffer?

One of the greatest things we can ever attain in life is perspective. Without perspective we are prideful, greedy, unsatisfied people. With perspective comes humility, generosity, and gratitude.

When I was eighteen years old I went overseas for the first time. It was in the slum in a garbage dump in Egypt that I began asking the question, "why me?" Why do I not wake up every morning to the stink of the rest of the societies garbage, to the prospect of hunting through this garbage for my own sustenance, and to the reality that my life would be incredibly difficult and probably very short.

For me, life hasn't been that hard. I've never really had to worry about food, my health, a place to live, or anything else like that. Life was unfair when a friend's parent's bought them a new car and I got a used car in high school (oh, the tragedy). It was unfair when my baseball coach selected another player to start over me. It was unfair when my friends went to the beach to tan and I went to burn (darn you Irish skin).

Placed in my own bubble of Southern California, I can find reasons for why life is unfair. Reasons for why I can sulk or buy something to "cheer me up." Life can always be unfair for me, if I want it to be.

But if I broaden my bubble, if I grow my perspective, I soon find out that, yes, life is not fair...for many others. Life has treated me more than fair. But others, in the states and abroad, face much tougher circumstances. People will wake up tomorrow and the first question that will pop in their head isn't "what will I have for breakfast", but "will I eat at all today." People will wake up and it won't be a test at school or a presentation at work that has them worried, but it will be their loved one who is deathly ill. A man will awake after a restless night on a cold winter street to face another day filled with humiliation and averted eyes. A woman will wake up and weep because her miscarriage yesterday was her fourth and she will see all around her parents unappreciative of the children they have and she desperately desires.

Perspective.

It changes how we look at our self. It changes how we look at our situation. It changes how we look at others.

We could all use some perspective, to step into the reality of those around us. It will help us appreciate what we have and allow us to respond to others with grace and humility.

After all, I had no part in landing the lead role in the school play. I also had no part in landing the role I have on Earth. I didn't choose to be born into a middle income family. I didn't have to work to have 3 meals a day, 2 loving parents, a good education, and a home over my head. I was...born. And, from my perspective, it was random. My name was drawn out of a hat and I got a pretty good role. But most of the rest of the world had their name drawn and their role is drastically different than mine...drastically more difficult.

May we gain perspective and with it gain humility, grace, and gratitude.

Daydreaming

In the last several months there has been lots of time to think and reflect. It's something that seemed to have escaped me in the last few years. There weren't as many late night runs, day hikes, or solo road trips. The uninterrupted time to question self, and the inescapable daydreaming were replaced by busy schedules and ceaseless concentration on the activity in the immediate foreground.

Well, over these last few months I have driven from Alaska to Utah by myself, spent countless hours hiking, and been on the saddle of a bike for hundreds of miles. As a result, I've spent a lot of time thinking and reflecting about where I'm at, where I want to be, and who I am in the midst of it all.

I have re-discovered in these last few months that I am intensely loyal. This can be a good thing, as I am deeply committed to my friends and to not letting anything come between us. This can also be a bad thing as I have been in bad relationships or jobs longer than I should have. But all things said, for good or for bad, when I commit to someone or something, I remain loyal.

I began discovering this characteristic about myself when I began looking for the next church I wanted to minister to. When I graduated from USC in 2006 and decided I wanted to pass up a business career for a career in ministry, I put two filters on the churches I would apply to. They had to be in Southern California (close to my then girlfriend) and they had to be offering a position in Jr High or High School ministry (preferably the latter). Well, the first church I applied to fit that criteria. Trinity was actually the only church I applied to. God was really watching out for me. It was a great fit and experience and it is still the place that I consider home.

When I knew it was time to move on to a different experience I gave myself two new pieces of criteria for the next opportunity. It had to be in high school or college ministry (to broaden my experience) and it had to be in the Denver or Seattle area (for a lifestyle change of pace). However, over the last year, as I have been applying to churches around the country, I have began to place more filters on my search. A lot of that has to do with my evolving understanding of what I believe church should look like. I'll explain more about that below. But a lot of it has to do with my feeling that wherever I go next, I want to be there for a significant period of time. I don't want to go to a church where I think I'll want to leave after only a couple of years. That's no good for the church, for the people, or for me. So churches in certain parts of the country don't appeal to me, because I have a hard time imagining I would enjoy the area. Certain denominations are out of the question because of the direction they are going in theologically. As a result, I'm applying to fewer and fewer churches these days. Not because I don't want to be in ministry, but because I want to be able to fully commit for the long haul.

One of the difficult bonuses of this last year away from full time ministry is the opportunity to attend different churches. While I was in Southern California I hopped from church to church week after week. It wasn't because of fickleness, but curiosity that this was the case. I wanted to experience church as a first-time visitor. I wanted to see how other churches did "it". During my summer in Alaska I went to four different churches. Unfortunately, they were the mega churches because they were the only churches that offered a service I could attend (on Sunday nights). These experiences coupled with a course I took in my last semester at Biola on the family nature of the church left me feeling unsatisfied with what I saw in most churches.

Don't hear me wrong. I'm not the type of person that likes to tear things down. It's true, I can be idealistic at times. But I'm more for fixing something from the inside than scrapping it all together. I have a broken motorcycle at home that proves my point.

But what I continue to see in most churches is a model that doesn't line up with Scripture and something that cannot offer what I believe a church is intended to offer: deep family community.

Like many people of my generation, I'm drawn to the mega church model. It offers attractive worship, engaging messages (generally), and a community that can easily stay at arms length. It's facebook.

I have over 500 friends on facebook. Yep, I'm kind of a big deal. People like me. Umm....not really. If I'm honest with myself, I probably have about 50 solid friendships. Sorry to my other 450. You are people whose name I know, probably like and care about, and may see each other every now and again. But we aren't friends with any real deep interaction. We stay at the surface. That's fine. But to say that we are really friends is to redefine what it means to be a friend. Friends do more than click "Accept" and occasionally talk. At least I hope they do.

I hate the phrase "I go to church." Ummm....I go to the gym. I go to the coffee shop. I go to bathroom. I go to the grocery store. These are all places we can go to get something. I don't think church is some place we go to "get something." At the heart, we are the church and we come together to be. It's a place to find ourselves known by those sitting around us, to explore and fight for the faith, and to engage in deep family community. It's not facebook. It's not a place where we come to interact with others from a distance, be entertained, and walk away feeling like we gained something. I just don't know how you get that from a church of a couple thousand where you can sit next to a new person every week for the next fifty years. How exactly can you have community with that many people?

The second thing I struggle with is the model where there is a senior pastor at the top of the leadership pyramid. I don't see this hierarchy in Scripture where the church depended so greatly on the influence of one person. Sure Paul and Peter were influential, but they referred to themselves as slaves and servants. They established elders at the churches they planted. It was a leadership team. No person had any more power or authority. It's no wonder scandals, and arrogant or faulty pastors rip churches a part. They are put in an unhealthy position where the church depends almost entirely upon them. Granted, I know several senior pastors who operate with humility and yield much of the authority they been assigned. But as a whole, I don't think this model is good for the church or the pastor. As a result, I won't apply to a church where I would be "reporting" to the senior pastor. It just ain't good for the church.

I guess what I'm getting at is it's becoming harder to find a church that I feel comfortable committing to. As much as I hate to admit it, I've been thinking about planting a church. I hate that idea because there are soooooo many churches out there. But it's hard to find churches that are offering family community.

Here's my hope....A church dreamed up by a group of leaders who would be volunteers or work bi-vocationally for the church. The goal would be community, not growth. We would seek to plant churches and not to build bigger buildings and offer more services. 300 or something to that effect would be the absolute largest the church would become. There would be more details obviously, but that would come about in community for community sake.

Sorry for the ramble, this is just something I've been thinking about a long with a coffee shop/beer pub and choreographing a line dance. It's all fun and it may happen soon or it might be down the road. For now, I hope to be involved in the lives of students again real soon. Until then, I'll continue to explore what it means to be church and how best that happens. I don't have all the answers. I have three. God is God. I am not. USC will beat Stanford on Saturday.

Grace and Peace

Fathers

Someone asked me this week what my favorite part of my job as a trip leader is. It's not the location, though Alaska is unlike any place I have ever been. It's not the activity, though every week I get to hike, bike, and run with sled dogs. It's not the money, though I make enough money to have everything I need and some things I want.

You want to know what it is? It's the opportunity to facilitate family memories.

I work with families most every week. For many, this is the only family vacation they will go on this year. As well, many of these families are incredibly busy and generally don't spend as much time together as they would like (especially from the parents' perspective).

So, I see my role as helping them have a great vacation where they enjoy each other and create lasting memories.

One of the rewards I have found personally in this is the opportunity to watch fathers and their kids.

I want to be a Dad. More than anything else, I want to be a Dad. Not sure why. I just do.

After watching some great dads these last few weeks, that feeling has intensified. I see qualities in these men that I want to have when that day comes for me. Let me give a couple examples:

Dan stood out from the other parents on the trip. He was much older than the other parents who had kids about the same age as his son (14 years old). But it wasn't just his age that made him stand out. He was actively interested in the other kids on the trip. When other parents had quickly given up on giving a listening ear to some of the younger kid's LONG stories during dinner, Dan listened excitedly. He asked questions, laughed at their painful jokes, and always smiled. It was like he wanted to have another kid. He was great with the young ones.

And his son was the best. Travis was such a nice, responsible, and balanced kid. He was good with the other kids, the adults, and his parents. Where many 14 year olds ignored their parents, he was excited to spend a week with them. They had a great relationship.

I was impressed with Dan and the job he had done with Travis. Then I heard the news that shocked me. Travis wasn't Dan's biological son. Dan and his wife had adopted him from her sister. Dan's sister-in-law had had severe problems with drugs and when Travis was eight years old she was forced to give him up.

Talk about tough.

But you could see in Dan a man who always wanted to be a father whether he would have kids of his own or not. He enjoyed and appreciated kids. When the opportunity presented itself, he jumped on it. He never took it for granted.

I could see from the get-go that Joe was an avid cyclist. He had all the gear and even brought his own pedals for the trip. These guys make me worry. They are usually intense and uninterested in the rest of the group. They are here to ride, some times at the expense of their family.

But not Joe. Yes, he was an avid cyclist who rode quite often. But he was here to spend time with his kids.

His kids had latched onto some other kids in the group almost immediately. The kids on this trip did everything together. They hiked together, rode in the van together, and ate dinner together. They rarely spent time with their family.

For many parents, this was a dream. The kids were making friends, enjoying the vacation, and they were having some together time with their spouse.

But I asked Joe on day three of the trip if he wanted to see his kids more. He was reluctant. He said he was happy as long as they were happy. This was true. He loved his kids. He wanted them to be happy, but just as much, he wanted to be with them as much as possible.

When there are many dads out there who don't appreciate the role they play in their children's life, it's nice to see guys like this who don't take a moment for granted. They love their kids and they love being their dad.

This week I get to share Alaska with my Dad. I'm excited to show him where I've been playing. But even more so, I'm excited to spend some time with my Dad. He's a good one.

Sea otters hold hands at night so they don't drift apart

So I have this sweet gig for the Summer and the Fall if you have not heard. I'm leading trips in Alaska and then Yosemite with this company called Backroads. It really is great. Today I got paid to bike. Tomorrow I get paid to hike to a glacier. Later in the week I get paid to kayak. Can't beat that, right?

I told myself when I applied for Backroads that I would only do this job for a season. My heart is in ministry; in working with people and allowing the Gospel to really impact their lives. I love the outdoors and I love people so Backroads seemed like a perfect parenthesis in my life; a good job in between jobs in ministry.

It's hard to let this job be only that. I love it. I love where I go, what I do, and who I meet.

I also have had more opportunities to talk about my faith with people who don't have my convictions in the last month than I have in the last few years. It really has been great and surprising.

That said, there is something that is desperately missing.

Community.

I have made some incredible friends who will be that for a long time. I interact with people who inspire me, support me, and who I care for tremendously.

But I miss my Christian community. It's the hardest thing to have when you're job takes you all over and most Sundays are work days.I have made it to church several times in the last month. When I haven't been able to I tried to substitute it with a solo walk and prayer time.

It's not the same. Nothing can replace community with believers. They are my family.

The most impactful thing I have learned this year is that we are saved to community. In salvation we not only get a Father, but we get a surrogate family. We get brothers and sisters. And there is a bond that is chosen, it is deep, and it is necessary.

So that's what I miss. That's what I need. That's what is hard about my time with Backroads. The company is great. The job is unbelievable, but I need my time with the family. As much as I would love to do this more long term, that will probably be what keeps me from it. And that's okay.

On the thunder road with red red wine and my blue jean baby

From reggae to rap, I like most music. I can't tell you who my favorite artist is or even what my favorite song is. They both change with the seasons. It will be all Bruce one season, then all country, then all hip hop. As my mood changes so does my music.

As a result, songs are often tied closely to specific seasons and memories.

A Garth Brooks song brings back memories of riding in the back of an old Toyota through rice fields in Thailand.

A Bob Marley song reminds me of driving by myself to Yosemite (my old truck only had a tape player...I only had one tape).

A certain worship song brings me back to a bus of high school students rolling through central California.

Certain other songs remind me of girls I dated.

Most of the time, when those songs come on, it makes me want to go back there. I miss the people, the drive, the girl.

It's easy to look back and feel like then was better than now. I have been thinking recently about how I glorify the past. Not that I make it out to be better than it really was (though I probably do that some), but that I make it out to be more important and enjoyable than the present. I live in the past at the expense of the present.

But then I think about it; back then I was always thinking about the future. I was never fully appreciating the present. I was always looking to the next thing: the next trip, the next experience, the next stage in the relationship with the girl. It was not until later that I truly began to appreciate that specific season of life.

We are always in danger of living for tomorrow, today. We are equally at risk of waiting until tomorrow to appreciate today.

May we appreciate this season, this day, this place, these people, and this story today. Tomorrow will always be there, but you only have one chance at today.

Grace and Peace.

Moosen, Fireworks, and Home

This will be random at best. But I have to believe that the best things in life are neither planned nor expected, but random. They are free from our expectations, hopes, and other constraints. This will be random.

First things first. I would like to thank Mr. Moose. I just got back from my first trip as a leader in Alaska. The fact that I am neither from Alaska nor that I have spent much time here makes it difficult to establish credibility with guests. I am their Alaska guide for a week. You look for any way to establish your credibility and expertise. Twenty minutes into the trip I was sinking. The guests had already discovered that this was my first season and that I had not been in Alaska for very long. I was worried.

And then he appeared. The other van ahead of us did not notice him. No one in my van noticed him either. But I did. Mr. Moose was standing in a meadow off the side of the road. He was posing like we were shooting a Moose calendar and he wanted December. His rack was nice (I'm talking about his antlers. Please control yourself).

I pointed him out. Everyone was impressed with the moose and with me. In Alaska you cannot guarantee that guests will see wildlife. Bears, moose, otters, and whales do their own thing. We just hope to catch a glimpse. A Bull moose is particularly infrequent. We wouldn't see another one for the rest of the trip. It was a good trip and I am thankful for Mr. Moose.

Today is the 4th of July. I don't love the 4th of July. I don't really know why. It's usually a letdown for me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not un-patriotic, but I am probably closer to idiotic than patriotic.

I appreciate the freedom we experience. I'm grateful for those who fought and fight for that freedom. I really am. But some times I wonder if patriotism is dangerous for the Christian. At the end of eternity, we are citizens of the Kingdom and allegiance to Him is the only thing that matters. I also have to wonder if there is a correlation between the decline of the Church in the states and the unparalleled "freedom" we experience. It is places like Africa and Asia where the church is growing in size and effectiveness. It is in these places where there is not freedom from oppression, where health and happiness is not guaranteed, that the church grows.

These are just my ramblings. Again, I am grateful to be living in America. I don't want to be cynical or rain on any one's BBQ and parade. But I sometimes wonder if I am like the dog at the dog race chasing the fake rabbit thinking it is what is real and necessary.

I will be watching fireworks tonight. In Alaska, where the sun sets at 11:30pm, we will be watching them at midnight (dusk).

In September I go home. No, not Orange County or LA. I'm going to Yosemite to lead trips for four weeks. Yosemite is home for a lot of reasons. It is where my family went on vacation when I was a kid. It was where I went in High School when I needed to get away. It is where I first believed. It is where I go to remember. It's home and I'm excited.

Grace and Peace.

Airports

Airports present a wide array of emotions for me. I’m always nervous going through the TSA scanners. I panic as I wonder if I left a pocket knife, 2 oz bottle of travel shampoo, or radioactive device in my carry-on. There is frustration over the price of food, delayed flights, and by some people’s total lack of decency as they pursue their itinerary with little regard for those traveling around them. There is of course the excitement. Airports always represent a change from one place to another (unless of course you’re Tom Hanks in the Terminal). You’re going someplace. Whether it’s near or far, new or old, or even home, it’s exciting.

Today, as I am sitting in Denver Int’l airport for a connecting flight to Alaska, I’m experiencing a somewhat unexpected emotion, sadness. I’m about to board a plane that will take me to “The Last Frontier” for a summer on bikes, kayaks, rafts, and sleds (pulled by dogs). And yes, I’m sad. Not about the Alaska part, but about leaving Salt Lake City.

Whenever you travel to a new place, you leave another place behind.

Sometimes it’s easy. As good as my quesadilla and margarita were in the airport today, it won’t be too much of a cry-fest to board my plane and leave Denver. Home isn’t terrible for me to leave, either. Whether it’s a week or a couple months, I always know I’ll be back. But leaving Salt Lake City was hard today. No, I’m not going to miss the city. I am, however, going to miss the twenty other people that I shared the last two weeks with.

I didn’t expect to come away with anything more than facebook friends when I came to Backroads training. I knew that most, if not all, of the people I would be training with wouldn’t share my Christian convictions. I expected that my beliefs might even offend or upset other people. Quite frankly, I thought I would shut down socially or be shut out.

Coming out of seminary and vocational ministry, 95% of the people I interacted with over the last several years shared my beliefs. Almost all of my deep friendships and regular relationships are with others who are intentional about their Christian faith. In Backroads, my guess is that less than 5% of the company employees share my convictions. 95% or more do not.

My expectation was that shared belief or interest equates to friendship and community. In order to have positive interaction we need to be on the same page. Because my beliefs would be more in the minority (and the fact that Christianity can be seen as rigid and exclusive), I didn’t anticipate people accepting me easily.

I was wrong.

After two weeks of training and communal living, I have walked away with new friends.

I did not expect to board a plane to Alaska wishing training could have gone longer. I did not expect my excitement for Alaska to be overwhelmed by sadness for leaving these new friends.

All that to say, I’m sad. I’m going to miss the friendships that were formed, the moments that were shared, and the stories that were intertwined. I’m going to strive to maintain these new friendships amidst a summer of meeting new people weekly. But most of all, I’m going to be thankful that God works despite my naive expectations.

Grace and Peace.

Summer on Two Wheels

Well, if you are reading this, you are part of the select few. You are like my Navy Seals.

You may have noticed that I changed the name from "Blake and Stout Out and About" to "Grace upon Grace." I didn't want to decieve you. Stout is not with me on this little adventure. She's home, probably laying in the sun, and chewing grass. We'll have some skype dates every now and again. But for now, we are apart, and that's hard on me.

"Grace upon Grace" was selected after reading John 1:16 on the airplane yesterday. I just like grace. I like the idea of it, the practice of it, and the reality it offers for life.

So I am in beautiful Salt Lake City. It is absolutely beautiful. There are snow capped mountains literally in my backyard. And everywhere else you go is green and clean.

So I started my adventure with Backroads this morning. I'm living in a condo with seven other new leaders from all over the country. There are 18 leaders in all for our training. Today, we started by doing a 20 mile ride through the hills followed by a picnic lunch. Then we went to the warehouse and learned about the facility. Over the next week we'll learn how to fix everything on a bike, drive a passenger van with a trailor, and learn everything about leading trips., Next Monday we leave for a 5 day "mock trip" from Bryce to Zion. Then we have a couple days of testing and we are off.

We'll find out the location where we will be leading a week from this Sunday. It looks like new leaders spend the whole summer in one location. I'm holding out for Ireland, but I'm not holding my breath. They place you more based off of your availability. I'm hoping that since I have an open schedule that will help me. We'll see, though. I'm excited and, like everyone else, can't wait to find out where I'm going.

I'll try to update this more often than usual. Feel free to call or email if you have questions.

I would ask that you pray for a couple things:

1.) Humility in learning and interacting with others

2) Grace in interacting with others who don't share my convictions

3.) Space to spend time with God and self. We have a busy schedule and no coffee shops nearby :(

Thanks!

Grace and Peace,
Blake

Status Update

Yesterday in one of my classes we were talking about the Apostle Paul's interaction with the people (and eventually church) of Philippi. My professor was speaking about the chase for honor and status in the Roman culture at that time and how Paul was decidedly counter-cultural. Here's the basic synopsis....

In Acts 16 we find Paul and Silas traveling to Philippi which, according to the author Luke, is a Roman colony. At first glance that doesn't seem like a big deal. There were, however, multiple places where Paul visited that were Roman colonies that Luke doesn't point out. For some reason Luke makes the point of emphasizing that Philippi was Roman.

Not too long after his arrival Paul finds himself speaking to a woman named Lydia who recieves the Gospel right away and encourages the men to stay longer. Things seem to be going so well that a fortune telling slave girl (who is possessed by a spirit) begins following Paul around proclaiming that, "these men are servants of the Most High God, who are telling you the way to be saved." In my mind this would seem like free advertising. But Paul is annoyed. Maybe she isn't the write mode for the advertisement. It seems like she was harming Paul's message and his credibility. Eventually, Paul turns to the girl and commands the spirit to leave her and it does.

Well, it turns out that one man's annoyance is another man's cash cow. When the owners of the girl discover that they can no longer make money with the girl they drag Paul and Silas to the authorities. After accusing them of being Jews who tried to advocate unlawful customs the rulers have Paul and Silas whipped and imprisoned.

You probably know the rest of the story. While in prison there is an earthquake and Paul's shackles were undone and the doors were open. It seemed obvious that all the prisoners would leave and so the Roman jailor decided to kill himself (it would be shameful and possibly result in his death if prisoners escaped under his watch). But before he has a chance to end his life Paul remarks that all the prisoners have stayed. This blows the Jailer away and he immediately asks, "what must I do to be saved?"

In the morning the rulers decided to let Paul and Silas go. When the jailor tells him that they are free to go Paul demands a trial. He remarks that they have beaten him when he has done nothing wrong. He also throws in the fact that he is a Roman citizen.

When the rulers found out that Paul was a Roman citizen it says they became "alarmed" and went to Paul and apolgized immediately. Why were they alarmed? Why did everything change so quickly?

Well, it meant something to be Roman in that day. If you were Roman you were considered more honorable than non-Romans and enjoying more rights than others. In fact a Roman citizen was not to be whipped or flogged. This action, which brough dishonor to the person, was only reserved for slaves. Rome actually had a tradition of prosecuting governors who mistreated their Roman citizens. Hence why the rulers were alarmed when they learned Paul was Roman.

So why didn't Paul and Silas say something during their beating to bring attention to their Roman citizenship and save themselves?

Well, like I mentioned earlier, Roman culture was very concerned with a person's honor and status. Archaelogical discoveries have uncovered tombs that look like resumes. A person would have their accomplishments, family, and citizenship listed. So life was lived to gain honor and climb the so-called "status ladder." If you had Roman citizenship it was expected that you would use this to your benefit.

Yet, when it seemed like the most opportune time, Paul does not use his citizenship to his advantge and takes the beating reserved for slaves.

Even though it was a Roman colony, only 40% of the population of Philippi had Roman citizenship. So the church that Paul was planting would be made up of those who had a higher status naturally and those who did not. It could be incrediably devisive if some members of the church began appealing to their citizenship to climb the ladder while others were unable to.

Paul is making the point that the Church and the kingdom of God doesn't play the honor game the same way. It's not about elevating ourselves for our own benefit. Rather, we are all called to be "slaves" and "servants" of God and others.

To me, this makes Pauls words in Philippians 2:1-11 (his letter to the church in Philippi) even more poignant. In a cultural context where everyone around them was climbing the status ladder, Paul was urging the church to look at Jesus who "did not consider equality with God something to be exploited, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a slave." Paul is flipping the honor game. Well, Jesus flipped it first. But Paul also demonstrated it in not using his Roman citizenship to his advantage. Taking the slave's beating was not disgraceful to Paul. In fact when he wrote to the church latter he begins the letter with, "Paul and Timothy, slaves of Christ Jesus."

Okay, I'm not done yet.

I began thinking about what the implications are of this for my life. What status do I have and how am I using it for others and not for myself?

This class discussion and my reflection all happened on Thursday of this week. I was still reflecting when I arrived at the church college group I help out with. This week there were several new people. I met one of him during small groups named Mac.

For some reason I've always had a heart for people who are out of their cultural/language element. Mac moved to Orange County two months ago from Cairo, Egypt. I like to think I would have befriended and attempted to make him feel comfortable anyway. But when I learned he was Egyptian I perked up even more so.

I went to Egypt ten years ago as part of a missions trip with my church. I had been a Christian for only a year so it was wild to go to a place where Christianity was despised and many of the churches there existed in secret. I told Mac about my experience.

To Mac, I was someone who had an idea about his world. He lit up. He asked me about where I went, what I did, what I liked, and what I ate. We talked about camels, pyramids, Alexandria, falafel, and humidity.

At some point he asked me where we stayed. I told him we stayed in a flat (apartment) near a palace. He wanted to know which palace. I had no clue. My only response was, "The one where they get mad if you take a picture of it."

I explained that when we were there we kind of got in trouble. One night we got a knock on our door late at night. When we opened it, in rushed six or seven "secret police." They wanted to know why we were taking pictures of the palace. We explained that we were tourists. This didn't fully satisfy them so they took two of our leaders away for further questioning. We were worried.

Then I told Mac that our leaders were brought back in the morning and everything was okay. At that point Mac interrupted me with, "that's because you're American."

Huh?

He explained that since we were Americans they brought us back. He then said that if it was him or another arabic man they would take him away and never bring him back. "I would probably spend my life in prison," he said.

Because of a piece of paper that states that I'm an American I recieve better treatment. And what did I do to earn it....I was born.

And its a status many in the world would and have literally died for.

How do we use our status for the benefit of others and the Kingdom? Where are we at danger of "exploiting it" for our own benefit?

Honestly, I don't know what the full application of this is. It's getting me thinking about my status as a child in a family and as someone who has an education and a college degree.

My hope is that we look at our status and privilege and reflect on how we are using it.

Grace and Peace,

Blake

Fighting Old

My knees don't hurt that bad. My back is still intact. I haven't watch The Price is Right in Years. I don't take a multi-vitamin or drive a Cadillac. All my teeth are still attached to my gums and I still don't get 10% off at Denny's. I don't feel old.

Then it happens. I look at my drivers license and it dawns on me. I'm old. Well, at least in my book. In two months I will turn 28 years OLD. I will definitely be in my late twenties and rapidly approaching my thirties and then death. I never get sick. This makes me sick.

Where is my wife? It's about time to have kids, right? I should know what an IRA is or have an idea how many thousands of dollars are in my 401k, shouldn't I? Homeownership is in my immediate future, right?

I've never had some master plan. As a child, I would have been happy being a professional athlete, journalist, or business owner when I grew up. I was never attached to anything except being a father. For some reason I knew that I had to be a father before I died. I figured that this would happen by the time I turned 28. You know, get married at 25, have a couple years of freedom, and then have a kid or three.

And here comes 28 and unless I steal a kid (I don't advise this) I won't have one anytime soon.

I put expectations on myself that, at times, make life miserable. I look around at friends who have been married for years, are having kids, and are purchasing homes and I think, I'm way behind the curve. I have none of these things and I'm not even close to having just one of them.

My Dad bought me a GPS a couple years ago for Christmas. I wasn't sure why. I actually have a pretty good sense of direction. I'm not the kind of person who gets lost. But the GPS had a feature that I thought was amazing; it can tell me where the closest Mexican restaurant, gas station, or coffee shop is. When I'm in another city this information is vital! So I started using it.

It turns out there are two kinds of options for the English language on my GPS. There is American English and British English. Or, as I soon discovered, Dumb English and Smart English. The British woman (Elizabeth) sounds much more intelligent than the American woman. She sounds like she knows what she's talking about when she says "Right turn ahead." So, I listen to Elizabeth. She sounds smarter. The reality is she is no smarter (Global Positioning Systemically speaking) than the American voice.

This convicted me recently as I reflected on my life. I have placed these expectations on myself and I started to question where they came from. Why do I feel like I need to be married and have kids by the time I turn thirty? Why do I feel like I should own a home sometime soon? Why do I feel like I should own a home at all? Was I listening to someone or something because it sounded good?

What voice am I listening to? Is this God saying that I needed a wife, children, house, etc. or someone else saying it?

I began to ask God if I was entitled to my dreams. I live in a country where people "chase their dreams" and kids are told to dream at an early age. Was I entitled to a wife at 25, kids at 28, and a house at 30? Was I entitled to them at all? That was my dream, but is it God's?

When normal doesn't happen you have to change normal. It's like with the economy. When you are used to one way of living and then have your finances change because of a recession you need to adjust your way of living. What used to be normal for you in regard to spending needs to change according to the new economy. If you don't do this life will be difficult.

So I'm finding a new normal and changing my expectations. I'm not going to press to get married soon or work on stealing a child. Probably the worst thing I could do would be to force my plans and expectations on this life that God has given. He knows what He's doing. I don't think God has forgot about me.

Recently, I have been listening to an audiobook called Little Princes. It's about an American who spends three months in Nepal working at an orphanage as part of a yearlong around-the-world trip. He is intrigued by Nepal because of Jon Krakauer's book Into Thin Air which chronciles a deadly excursion to the summit of Mt. Everest in 1996. Little Princes is about the author's work with kids who had been trafficked during the ten year civil war in Nepal (1996-2006).

This struck home. I read Into Thin Air in my junior year of high school. I was immediately enamored with Nepal, Everest, and the idea of going there. When I came to Christ a year later I told friends that I wanted to be a missionary to Nepal. In 2002, I got the opportunity to go to Nepal for two months to work at an orphanage. In no time at all, I fell in love with the people and the country. I spent everyday playing, teaching, and just plain enjoying time with these twenty Nepali kids. And then it was cut short. A brother of one of the orphanage leaders was murdered by the rebel Maoist group. The organization put us on a plane the next day. The trip was over, but the experience continues to stick with.

As I read Little Princes I'm drawn back to Nepal and to the kids of Emmanuel Boarding School. I miss it. I always told myself I would go back some day, but it never felt like the responsible thing to do. I don't know what God has for me after I graduate seminary in May. I'm still pursuing a position in vocational minsitry at a church and am excited about the prospect to work directly with youth again. But I'm also thinking about Nepal and exploring if God is calling me back there. Either way, I'm striving to pursue God's dream for my life.

May our dreams never get in the way of God's dreams. May we pursue His kingdom and not our own. May we find our satisfaction in Him and, in so doing, know contentment.

Grace and Peace.