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CALLING ALL COOL CHRISTIANS

August 23, 2012 in Community, Faith, My Journey with 6 Comments

Open Text: Before you read, I want you to know this will be my last post till December. Something fantastic happened, which I will post about in December.

Just think about this as an end to the first installment, and await the next one with the same anticipation that you wait for the Hobbit or a new episode of Breaking Bad.
–@NicksEdwards.

My routine basically consisted of a few key elements. Wake up, work, alone time with a cup of coffee, maybe meet with someone but probably not, hit the thrift stores to find a few treasures I could flip for quick cash on ebay, fit in times to write, and most definitely make time for the woman I had been dating. Maybe I’d even find time for a little one on one with the Lord, but mostly not. I would end my nights in one of three ways, either with my girlfriend, at a bar, or on the front porch of my house with my stud muffin roommates. This was my ritual. You have yours. They look different, but we all have them. What happens to us when our daily ritual experiences turbulence? When it becomes interrupted?niv

Not real turbulence, though we like to say it is. The loss of a friend, or a job, the ending of a relationship with someone significant, not making it in the first round for nursing school, not making enough to put food on your table, you could alter all of these just a little and the list of real turbulence becomes significantly longer. The type turbulence I am referring to is more secretly known as inconvenience, though we would not dare claim it by this name. When our daily ritual experiences something out of the ordinary, something that requires us to go out of our way, whether great or small, we call it turbulence. And we hate it. We despise it, and avoid anything that would intervene with our ritual. Heaven forbid I mess up my ritual for “you name it”. Trust me, being a professional at selfish living, I know what it takes to live an uninterrupted day. A turbulence free day. Its actually harder work than one would think.

If you have followed my blog for any amount of time, you would know that the manner of life I lived last year was Continue Reading…

EVANGELISM, WHY WE SUCK AT IT

August 9, 2012 in Faith with 11 Comments

You know the miniature booklet with only two colors: Yellow & Black? It has a picture of two cliffs and a great expanse between the two. The cliff on the left reads “US”, the expanse in the middle reads “SIN”, and the cliff on the right reads “GOD.” Somewhere inside booklet the cross is inserted and it gives “US” a bridge to “GOD”. I was always afraid of passing those tracks out during evangelism because I thought they were dorktron5000. Heaven forbid I do something remotely dorky. Christians are supposed to be cool right? If we ain’t trendin’ then people won’t listen to us. Right?

Regardless of me not handing them out I memorized the booklet. Front to back. All five pages and 45 words of it. It was the first bit of literature I put to memory for the sake of evangelism. Go ahead, ask me how to become saved, “if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” There are actually a few verses prior to this one and a few after it. At least this is how it’s laid out in the Yellow & Black booklet.

It was only a short while into high school when I realized my classmates didn’t really care about the huge gap between “US” Continue Reading…

THE ANIMAL, PORN, AND FINDING JESUS || PART I

July 12, 2012 in Faith, My Journey with 12 Comments

Open Text: Don’t let the name scare you. Everyone can divide up their life story into multiple threads. This is just one thread of many in my young story. Enjoy
–@NicksEdwards.

 

There is still a small room in my heart occupied by that animal that longs to be desired. Before I knew Jesus that animal made claim to a larger plot of land. This animal was a self-proclaimed ruler, and in many rights he was. If ruler-ship is defined by a measure of land, then by golly, this animal was who he said he was. The ruler of my heart. And this animal loved its position and would do what ever was necessary to keep it and to use it.

It was in 5th grade when I built my first computer with my father. It was our Dad and son project. I like to say I had a big hand in building it and my father would tell you that I DID, though we could all guess the reality of who actually put it together. The learning curve from Legos to graphic cards and motherboards is exponentially bigger than a 5th grader could ever imagine. Thanks to my father and his ability to translate computer engineering into Sunday school flannel graphs, we built the computer in no time.

In 6th grade I was introduced to the world of pornography Continue Reading…

FIFTY FOUR DYING PEOPLE AND KARAOKE

July 5, 2012 in Faith, My Journey with 9 Comments

Microphone in my left sweaty palm, and tambourine clenched in my right. Fifty-four people on deaths doorstep, each in their designated chair, sit looking up at me and the four others on stage. Each one has their own tale to tell of how they wound up here, but I know I wouldn’t be able to understand them unless I had a translator. One thing I did know was that most of the people in front of me lived under some of the worst shame a Taiwanese can be slapped with. Their families had abandoned them. Like an Eskimo released into the wild ocean near life’s end, drifting off into the darkness on a small plot of icy land, sitting and awaiting death.

Retirement homes, if you could call this place one. Where the old are dropped off to see life’s end, alone. I have never heard of anyone wanting to live out their last days in a stale facility but regardless of what these folks wanted, they were here to stay. 

The short version of Taiwanese life cycle goes like this: parents welcome their youngsters into life, wipe their bottoms and raise their kids to get good grades so that they can get a high paying job. The kids, now grown up with high paying jobs, are supposed to take care of their parents, wipe their bottoms, and walk Continue Reading…

ENTITLED BY PRIDE

June 28, 2012 in Faith, My Journey with 6 Comments

I once convinced myself I was entitled to a long list of things. I reckon it started with my birth in America. While I feel my birth in America was a gift, I think the back hand of my nationality is my sense of entitlement. Here is my list, I bet it looks like yours: I am entitled to a job,a good-girlfriend-turned-amazing-wife, respect, a better job after my undergrad, an even better job after my masters, clean water, cheap gas, a gallon of milk under 2 dollars, and a cappuccino at the appropriate temperature. I give the barista my money, they give me a darn good cappuccino.

Today, our lecturer invited anyone out to lunch who wanted to continue dialoguing. Nearly half the class crammed into, what we would call, a hole in the wall lunch joint. An order of pork fried rice over rich discussion for me. All 17 of us positioned ourselves around a table in preparation for the fountain of knowledge our lecturer had. Maybe by wading into a conversation with him, we could some how absorb, like some famous sea sponge, the knowledge this guy had. As time passed I looked around the table as eyes and ears were fixated on him. That is when I asked myself, “I wonder Continue Reading…

DEVILS TERRITORY, WHERE WE TAKE REFUGE

June 7, 2012 in Faith, Relationships with 6 Comments

Two days ago I was asked, “What do you do when you get hurt?” I fumbled my words and came up with something that sounded reverent to my Christian beliefs. It went something like, “Well, I let the Lord take my hurts. I pray. I Listen to a Sufjan Stevens song. I Have a good ol’ fashioned quiet time. Stuff every christian does.” But then again, I don’t really remember, because it was just regurgitated words I have picked up along the way from books, teachers, musicians, and friends. What I was really saying was , “The Christian way of getting over pain,” or, “Cool stuff Christians use to distract them from pain (until it goes away).”

Good thing this guy Tysen called my bluff. Better yet he told me how I (actually) handle hurt and pain. I handle hurt and pain by way of bitterness.

But calm your worrying mind, I have got it all under control. I have been training as a bitterness ninja for years. I’d most likely have a black belt in bitterness, that’s of course if ninjas actually used karate. Using my skill of bitterness I am able to turn my emotions off towards an individual, distance myself, which seamlessly helps me bypass hurt. Because if you tell yourself you are not friends with the person who causes you pain you can avoid it all together.

The devil has been inviting me into his territory for years, and as a believer I have willingly walked his ground. I entered into his territory under the deception of protection. That is what I have been promised anyway. “Nick, I will protect you from hurt and pain.” It is no surprise that we choose the path of least resistance, so who wouldn’t want protection from hurt and pain? We trek on into this deceitfully protective territory under seemingly wise guidance. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, when this guy gives you advice he doesn’t wear his own name tag. He’ll wear name tags like Bill, Marg, #instagram, bitterness, pornography, food, video games, drugs, sex, and rock n’ roll. He will do watever it takes to convince you to take refuge in his territory from pain and hurt. All the while he neglects to tell you that in this land you enter into isolation, depression, and spiritual atrophy. The cost is worth the protection of pain and hurt. Right?

To protect you is his election 2012 promise. My promise of protection comes through bitterness. Yours may come through keeping silent. It may come by way of anger. It may come by finding sexual intimacy with a past lover, or a new one. It may come through your late night pornography escapades. Protection may come by your body image, which is why you work out way too much  and throw up after every lunch. We each have our refuge uniquely designed for us, and we each use it to bypass pain and hurt. What we neglect to see on that big sign that says “Your place of protection,” which marks the entry of the territory, is the small subscript on the bottom right corner that adds, “where you come to lose your soul.” Just kidding, he wouldn’t risk you reading that.

I believe in Jesus, and have for years, but have allowed myself to fall under the protection of bitterness.  I am not ashamed to admit it. Infact, admitting it is my only way out, and your only way out. To admit, even as believers, that we have a problem. We take security in things other than the One who is security. We choose the path of least resistance, but no longer.

Jesus promises to protect too. It is a bit unconventional and at times we feel un-tasteful. His method of protection is allowing us to walk straight into hardship, pain, and suffering while turning his head towards us to say, “I am here. You can do it. I believe in you. You cannot fail, because I cannot fail in you.” and bring us out the other side stronger, healthier, wiser, full of life, and joy.

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Welcome to the space created to give you the monologue of my life, in hopes it creates a dialogue with yours.

OUR UNINTENTIONAL AFFAIR ON HONESTY

May 31, 2012 in Faith, Relationships with 13 Comments

“I liked it. Everyone in my house liked it.” Naphtalie responded to the question I asked her. The best kind of critique comes from your family right? Not always but in my case, the critique my sister gives is usually harsh and almost always true.

She looked at me, “Nick your writing is good, and people enjoy it, but your writing could be better.” For reasons unknown to me, I knew she was about to corner one of my biggest fears.

“You are giving the perception of honesty, without actually being honest,” she said. I remember sitting in my Anthropology class when the professor called upon me to read, for the class, an excerpt from the materiel we were currently reading. I was surprised that he knew my name, and even more surprised to be called on while I was in the middle of responding to a tweet. I had no idea where I was supposed to read from and my professor knew it. The Ol’ Dog… he caught me. What I felt in the class was close friends with what I was feeling in front of my sister.

“If you wrote honestly for honesty’s sake, instead of using honesty as a means to attract more readers, then you would be a better writer.” She realized a fear I was unwilling to admit, but had no way of escaping from. Unless, of course, I was willing to address the elephant who placed himself peculiarly in the middle of my room, threw some cool magazines, a half empty coffee cup, and my laptop on his back to give the impression he was actually my coffee table. Sir Elephant, there is no more room for you at la Casa de Edwards.

My fear is not unusual, but on the contrary, my fear is much like yours. I fear true honesty. I will be as honest with you as any another guy as long as it is within my control, but no more. The truthfully honest would show you something out of my control. The truthfully honest would reveal areas of me that need grace, and  forgiveness. The truthfully honest takes control out of my hands and puts it in into others’. But who wants to do that? Who on earth wants to reveal to those closest to them their weakness, their pride, selfishness, arrogance, lust, dirty secrets, and shameful acts? Who wants to be the one who “needs grace?” I sure don’t. I don’t want to be honest out side of my control because that would show I am flawed, and in this perfect world it is hard to find room in a church for this imperfect soul. If there is no room for this imperfect soul in church, then that leaves me no other option then to search elsewhere. My fear.

“I have reconsidered Sir Elephant, you are welcome to stay, I don’t know what I would do without a coffee table anyhow,” said selfish, unwilling to grow, Nick.

Our inability to be honest outside of our control is misplaced identity. We have put the power of grace and forgiveness into the hands of flawed people, and hinged our worth on what they choose.  Sometimes it works, most the time it does not. We took our identity out of the hands that fashioned them. Out of the hands of Jesus. In the hands of Jesus there is no shame too shameful nor dirt too dirty. In these hands you and I are new. You and I are clean.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” – 2 Corinthians 5:17

As for our imperfect souls? I am going to tell you all about my past, present and future. It’s going to be shaky, and a little dirty, and quite unlike all the celebrity pastors I know. You should join me. I’m not there yet, but I’m on my way. And our weakness?

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” – 2 Corinthians 12:9

Let us boast all the more gladly of our weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon us.

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Welcome to the space created to give you the monologue of my life, in hopes it creates a dialogue with yours.

MATHEMATICAL JESUS

May 24, 2012 in Faith, My Journey with 10 Comments

Your own personal Jesus. Thank you Johnny Cash.

Why does Jesus not fit in my box? Why is he not mathematical? These were the questions I asked myself as I ran a half marathon last Sunday.

A half marathon. It is a small feat for many, but for a guy whose last year was spent in the company of Jim Beam, American Spirits, IPA’s, Coffee, and the other folks that hang around with them, this was a big accomplishment. It was an even bigger accomplishment that I finished in a decent time considering I committed to it last minute, and I had one week to train for it.

As I ran I thought of everything I could to keep my mind off of the current stress my body was under. I played seven nation army, the DUBSTEP arrangement, over and over in my head and ran to its beats. I learned the CBA’s backwards. Then I came to lament station, where I stayed till I ended the race. I wasn’t expecting to arrive there, but it’s where (took out “the”) Jesus wanted me to be. I lamented in frustration over my last year. I lamented over friends who have walked away from Jesus because he did not fit the mold they had fashioned in their minds. I lamented over my misplaced frustrations with “my own personal Jesus.” Why he would he let them walk away? I lamented over the death of my friend’s Dad who died of cancer after we prayed for healing. He even went to a “renowned” healing room to receive healing from Jesus, like many others had received. Jesus, was it your desire or plan all along that they would walk through divorce and be fully separated? Why did I spend a year in a relationship to find out the relationship was not supposed to be? Jesus was not fulfilling the conditional paradigm I put him in: “Jesus, If I…. then you must.”

Jesus, why do you not fit in my box, and why are you not mathematical?
Why are you not an equation I can understand nor anticipate the outcome of?

Math has never been my forte. I passed my last math class with a 98%, not because of my intellectual understanding of mathematics, but because of my Sith powers of manipulation. My teacher loved economics and I happened to know enough to carry conversation with her. In return for my listening, I had no problem asking for her help during tests, which usually produced the answer I needed. I would hope I am a better person now. I like my mathematics because if I know how to solve the equation I can produce the answer. I like my Jesus Mathematical. I like to order my Jesus over easy and with a side of something I can anticipate and understand. God bless growing up in America.

Why does Jesus not act the way I have fashioned him to be?

Near the end of the race all my questions were answered. Well, more like redirected. About a month prior some one asked me after hearing some of my frustrations, “Nick, what are you not believing about the gospel?” I wrestled with the question, came up with a quick answer, and then filed it in some obscure location in the back of my mind. During the time it was filed away it underwent a transformation that only became clear to me during my run in the midst the frustration and laments. The question became the answer. All these questions I had were based out of something I did not believe about the gospel. I was not believing Jesus was good. I was not believing he was good because he was not fitting my idea of what good represents. Growing up in America has shaped what good means to me, and good means letting me be an individual who gets what he wants when he does what is required. Jesus should fit the same system, right? I follow him and do as he commands, and he makes my life better. I am a child of my culture and the harsh and beautiful reality is, I am wrong and so are you, and it’s ok. We are wrong together. The reality is Jesus does not work like an equation, nor will he ever fit into any theologian’s box, let alone ours.

Circumstances do not change the character of Jesus. When you lost your Dad to cancer after everyone prayed for him, Jesus is good. When your boyfriend or girlfriend cheated on you, Jesus is good. When you walked through that divorce, Jesus is good. When you were molested as a child by some one you trusted, Jesus is good. When your friend walked away from everything he once believed, Jesus is good. When Jesus does not fit the paradigm we have created, he is still good has been good, and will be good forevermore.

Amen.

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Welcome to the space created to give you the monologue of my life, in hopes it creates a dialogue with yours.