There is No Explanation

Sometimes
                       there are no words.

Sometimes
                       there is no meaning.

Sometimes
                 there is no explanation.

It's in these times that I have no words to speak. Or even to pray.

Only silent thoughts, prayers, and pain.

We have some friends who are facing one of the toughest tragedies possible. Please join us in prayer for them. Help us to share this burden for them. Please pray for healing and peace, and for everyone involved in this to rely on God and his unending love.

Thanks, friends. It's much appreciated.

Assuming the Position: Maybe I Did, Maybe I Didn't

This post was originally written for and posted by Jamie, the Very Worst Missionary. Enjoy!

Alright, tell me I’m not alone in this:

You’re sitting in church, in those god-awful pews – who decided chairs weren’t good enough, anyway? – and you’re getting a little hazy. The eyes start drooping a little, the drool starts running from your mouth, and then suddenly…

SMACK!

The significant other next to you lays out a new bruise on your finely gelled hair.

Not cool, significant other.

After you get over the fact that you’ve just had a mini-stroke, heart attack, and peed your pants all at once, you’re suddenly more aware than you’ve ever been before. Even though the scenery is still the same, something is different. Your eyes have been opened, even if unwillingly.

That’s where I was at this past summer.

I’m a 21 year old male. I go to a Christian college. So, naturally, I would do my internship at a pregnancy center, right? Riiiiight.

Let’s just say pregnancy centers aren’t exactly overflowing with young adult males who like Jesus.

Thankfully, there were a few guys that graced our presence this summer. Except they didn’t like Jesus, which was fine by me. So we talked about other important stuff – like… sports cars fishing trying to stay sane while the girlfriend is pregnant. So basically, yeah, we talked about sports.

Once a week, though, I would sit in on a class with a few dads that came around this place. We would talk about the importance of dads – and by we, I mean, one guy would talk, and the rest of us would listen. We’d all be watching the clock, hoping God would have mercy on us, and eventually, we would get through the class.

This lasted for 7 weeks.

Seven weeks of sitting in a room, bored out of your mind with two other guys who were at least as bored as I was. And you could tell that the guy teaching didn’t want to be there either. You see, the guys in the class were what we call “court ordered.” So they had to be there. And so we had to be there to teach them.

Cue the head-bobbing, the glazed-over eyes, and the drooling.

Sounds a lot like church, right?

And then the significant other goes and ruins your good hair day.

It was our last class. In fact, it was after our last class was done, and I was so ready to be done with this stuff. I can only handle so much “dad-talk,” since I’d like to think I’m about 20 years removed from having kids (the wife would beg to differ).

And then it happened.

My significant other, aka, the God man himself, smacked me upside the head. And he made it about as obvious as it can get.

The teacher leaves to go print something off for the guys, and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, one of the guys says, “Mannnn, do you believe in destiny?”

After I picked my jaw off of the floor and responded, he went on to tell me about some struggles he was having with his girlfriend and how he’s not sure how hard he should fight for her. I told him that I personally don’t think God has one special person for him and that if he doesn’t get it right, then it’s game over.

Naturally, like in all the good evangelism videos, he wanted to know more. And, frankly, I told him that I didn’t know much more. I told him straight-up that he needed to try praying. To which he replies, “I don’t know how to do that, man.”

WHAT?!

So I taught him to pray that day.

Anyway, I’ll save you the rest of the story by telling you that this kid wasn’t “saved” that day. He didn’t pray “the prayer,” and we didn’t baptize him. But I’d like to think that God got through to him that day.

God reached out to him.

And I'm still hoping, three months later, that this kid reached back.

So maybe I “evangelized” and maybe I didn’t. But I do know that I got to share the love of Jesus with that kid.

And that is all that matters.

... ... ...

Question: Have you ever had an experience like this? When (if ever) did you first "learn" to pray?

Don't forget to find a way to follow Life Before the Bucket!

Continuing in Simplicity

I started asking for recommendations for a Master's program yesterday. I don't wanna grow up!

Have I ever told you that I'm thankful for you? Because I am.

I'm beyond thrilled to have the opportunity to share this space with some very wonderful people. Without you, it wouldn't be worth it.

That, though, has nothing to do with my post today. I just wanted to let you know!

Instead of jabbering on today, I want to, once more, keep it simple.

I didn't really mean to make this a semi-regular thing, but I love hearing your thoughts and getting to know you. It's important to me!

So here's the deal. One simple question. To prod your mind. To get you thinking. So I can know you a little better, and maybe you can know yourself a little better, too.

Today's question?

Do you prefer prayer or solitude, and why do you think that's the case?

Simple enough. No ifs ands or buts about it. Just answer the question in the comments section with however you perceive it, regardless of how you feel. I'll be answering there at some point today as well, just so you know!

Keep it simple, my friends.