Coming Back East.

So when I wrote this like 3 days ago, I was en route from LAX to JFK for the last time for a while. I’m just awful at publishing blogs on time, but from here on, it’s written from that perspective:

There are a lot of mixed feelings going into all of this going home business. Granted, this might just be justification for bawling my eyes out during the Justin Bieber movie, but there’s definitely a handful of emotions swimming around in that heart of mine. Just kidding, I’m not that sad of a human being—but the movie was sick. I’ll admit that much.

Ah shoot, I’m such a loser.

I remember the last AfterDark chapel of the year. It was about a week and a half ago, and it couldn’t have been the more perfect cap to my freshman year. Gun to my head, I can’t remember what was said during the sermon, but I do remember this picture: Calvary Chapel—your typical cliché sanctuary set up, still stuck in the 70’s—was absolutely packed, because it was one of the last opportunities to get credit for the year.

Sometimes I like to think it was just because we’re all so spiritually motivated, but let’s keep it real here.

Anyway, I was on the side of the chapel, packed into on of the back rows. I was surrounded by the people I would consider my closest friends at Biola: new friends I had made throughout the year on my side, and one of my closest friends from high school right behind me. As I was looking around the room, I saw friends I had made during orientation and never talked to again, I saw the girl I took on one sorry date, I saw new friends I had made in classes. I saw people that I gigged (maybe even giggled) with, I saw people who brought me on to play with them in chapels past. I saw people who I knew had wasted their year, and I saw people whom—by the sheer incredibility of their life experiences—every fiber of me wanted to emulate. And when I came out of my people-watching trance, I realized what we were singing as a worship song: tt was a simple chorus that just repeated, “Our God Reigns.”

Movie-like. I swear.

As I’ve made friends, and maybe made a few crappy choices along the way, I have to admit that I had the best year of my life being a freshman at Biola. I wouldn’t change a thing, and hindsight being 20/20 there’s no question every facet of the year had God’s hand in it. I don’t mean to throw around Christianese, but there’s no way I made the friendships I made, adventured the places I did, accomplished everything I did without God providing the ways to do it. I don’t blame Him for the mistakes I made, but I thank Him for the grace He gave for me to keep on going.

This year was amazing, He is even better. Here’s to a great summer.

That Badass who spoke in chapel…

So I’m on my way to chapel, trollin’ across campus with the afore-pictured girl and another buddy, and I literally had zero expectation for any kind of notable outcome to my evening. We’re required here at the up-and-coming BU to go to 30 chapels each semester. Last week, with three weeks left in the semester, I was sitting on 17 chapel credits—an acceptable number in the same way that 4 hours of sleep is acceptable: only the worst kind of people are OK with numbers like that. I needed to make up for lost time. Wednesday-night chapel helps such a cause. 

Anyways, I got to chapel and this girl gets up to introduce the chapel speaker and, well, she wasn’t a very good orator—and by that of course I mean her introduction made me bleed out of my ears—so it’s possible that my enjoyment of the speaker, Carl Medearis, was purely because his public speaking ability shined by comparison. I doubt it, though. 

There are people that can take you by surprise with their story. Brother-man talked so casually about getting arrested for preaching in the streets of Lebanon and meeting with Ahmadinejad to talk about Jesus, I almost just reacted to it like my friend was telling me about his cat, Mr. Snickers. To clarify, I don’t care about Mr. Snickers. I just pretend to because I need friends.

All that nothing to say, I want to be like this Mr. Medearis. I don’t think I’m called to full-time missions in the Arab World, but, shoot, I’m called to full time missions where I am now. I sat in my seat completely unsatisfied with my current life choices. I love my friends, I love Biola, and I even love my classes, but I’m sleeping in a bedbug-ridden lofted bed that’s 30 minutes from one of the most needy cities in the U.S. and what am I doing? Going to class.

No, I’m not talking about Seattle. Nobody likes Washington.

I guess what I’m getting at is that I want to do something movie-like with my life. I want to do something that values at more worth than “a good career and a stable family” or is it the other way around? Whatever. I don’t want to be caught in La-la Land just living the dream of sunshine, getting a sick tan, and bird-doggin’ chicks. I don’t even know what that last one is. Ignore it.

I want to make a difference here in LA. I don’t care to make a lot of money after college, and I don’t care to settle down very quickly. Yeah, sure, I’m at a pretty disparaging place of loneliness and desperation when it comes to my love life, but at the end of the day I don’t really want to fall into the same motions everyone else seems to. I’m ok with singleness, and I’m more than ready to travel the world meeting new people and doing stuff you only seem to hear stories about. I’m more of an author than a reader.

Here’s to you, Carl, I hope someday I make even half the difference you have. In the mean time, thanks for inciting me to better things.