I'm Still Alive

I don't know what it is, but I love scrolling through Pinterest these days. Of course, as a guy, it's illegal for me to actually get an account, so I haven't gone that far... yet.

I'm in shock, people.

I disappeared off of the face of the blogging world for a week, without warning, and there was no missing person's report filed on me. Shame, shame, shame...

I could've been abducted by aliens.

Or kidnapped by Big Foot.

Or even worse...

But I wasn't!

No, in fact, my absence was a good thing. It means a number of things. And since it is officially October, and thus, the first time it has ever been PCD Awareness Month, I wanted to let you in on what's going on.

(Not sure what PCD is? Check out this post.)

Basically, I'm working on getting better. And because getting better takes time, I had to give up the time in the morning when I typically compose blog posts. It's for a greater cause, though.

Yeah, this is the part where you freak out a little
if you've never seen one of these.

Right now, as I type, I have a tube in my arm. I know, I know. A little freaky when you think about it. It's called a PICC line, and it basically serves as a semi-permanent IV, so that I don't have to get stuck with a needle 42 times in 14 days.

Through this tube, I'm given medicine three times a day. It's a pretty strong antibiotic, to fight off the infection that has built in my lungs, known as pseudomonas. Pseudo is pretty typical for PCD patients to get, but most people aren't susceptible to it, so you don't have to worry about getting sick from reading my blog or anything.

Unfortunately, the hospital in the city that I live in won't let me do the medicine myself. I've done it several times in the past, and it's really not a big deal. Unfortunately, that isn't the case this time. Instead, I get the pleasure of visiting the hospital three times a day: at 6 AM, 2 PM, and 10 PM.

Every day. No breaks. Not even for the weekends.

Basically, I end up spending about 3-4 hours a day in the hospital as a result. It leaves very little time for sleeping, let alone blogging.

So, in due time, I will be back in full blogging force. But next time I disappear, I'll be concerned if there's no concern about my absence. Just kidding!

Have a wonderful week. Make the best of it.

Growing

I thought I was done with Greek in my life. And then they sucked me into tutoring...

I stopped growing when I was in middle school.

I'm about average height, so to be a 13 year old at this height meant I was huge.

We bought everything too big. Sadly, I never met my expectations when it came to those things. I was supposed to be at least 6 feet tall. I didn't think that was too much to ask. Apparently I shouldn't have asked to be a reasonable weight, either, because I've probably only lost weight since then.

Thankfully, though, my mind and heart didn't stop growing with my body. Though I may appear relatively the same in stature (except for the beard), I'm not who I was 8 years ago. I'm not even remotely who I was, and I only have Jesus to thank for that.

We shared our 'stories' for the last couple of weeks in one of my classes. And you know, I have a lot of stories. I have a lot of experiences that I could've talked about that I've grown from. I was born sick. Physically sick. Spiritually sick. For a large majority of my life, I've been fatherless, and I haven't known any better.

But these stories are no good if I haven't grown. I can't imagine what it would have been like to share with my classmates that I am who I was 8 years ago. And, if you think about it, that was just the blink of an eye. I can't imagine what I'll be like in another 8 years. Or even in 80. But I hope for this: that I keep growing. Because to be the same person I am now would be a defeat of the largest kind.

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Just five minutes alone with your thoughts. Hop on over to The Gypsy Mama and try it out!

Compassion

As of today, our college town finally has a real donut shop. Finally.

One of the lamest ways to begin any speech, sermon, or blog post is with a definition from a dictionary.

Please allow me to be momentarily lame. And thanks for your forgiveness in advance.

There's a word I want to define for you, something that I think is very important to understand. Something that very few of us remember on a consistent basis:

Compassion.

According to my very official source of Dictionary.com, here's the definition of compassion: 

1. a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering.

What's interesting to me is the way that this definition seems to fall into two pieces. The first piece sounds an awful lot like empathy, but includes the word sympathy, so I suppose it's different. The first piece of compassion includes a feeling.

Personally, I don't place much stock in feelings. Feelings can happen for any number of reasons, including (but not limited to!) a change in weather, hormones, or a bad pasta bowl from Olive Garden. Feelings are just that: something you feel. Nothing more. Not much else to them.

Now, granted, there's probably a little more to them than I am letting on, but I'm biased. But in my heart of hearts, I believe that any feelings not accompanied by action are hogwash. They're nonsense. They mean nothing.

And that's why I like the second part of this definition. True compassion is not only a feeling, but a desire. And while many would classify desires as feelings, I believe there's something more to desire.

Desire is craving. If you desire something, it means you want and sometimes even need something. Your heart and mind are telling you that you are lacking something, even if you really aren't. And more often than not, desire leads to my favorite result: action.

It Really Doesn't Matter

This post is part of my weekly Time for Honesty. I do my best to share something that's on my heart that is honest, sincere, and transparent - something that will get you thinking and get you to be honest with yourself.

One of the most interesting aspects of my life is something I rarely blog about: attending a Christian college.

Our school is very, very small - it averages about 330 students each year, which is less than my graduating class in high school. Having been in public school my entire life, it's a different environment for me. Everyone around here is either from some farm-town in Western Kansas, was home-schooled, or lives in areas of their hometown that I can't even afford to think about.

It's a weird dynamic to experience for four years.

I've been reluctant to write about MCC (Manhattan Christian College) for many reasons.

First of all, it really just isn't that interesting to me. There's a lot more to life than school. And although I'm pretty "good" at school, it doesn't top out my priority list.

Mostly, though, I haven't written about my school because I'm scared to hear from people who are hyper-apologists of sorts for our micro-community. Truth be told, there are people that don't want a negative word to leak concerning the school, for fear of losing something (though I'm not really sure what).

I'm still not really here to write about the negatives of my school, either. Maybe later. Much later. As in when I'm in graduate school later. But for now, I just want to share something interesting with you that I discovered last night:

All that I've learned at this Christian college is that I don't care about most of the stuff we have to learn about to get our Bible degree.

Now granted, that's a pretty sweeping statement, so allow me to narrow it down for you with a story.

Last night, we had a friend over who stops by on occasion - we love having her over. After dinner was done sinking to the bottom of our stomachs, she started talking with my wife about the Bible and about not knowing a lot of stuff about it.

My wife, being the genius that she is, told her that Bible college is good to help with that, and gave her the example of different views of Creation. She rattled off the basics of Young-Earth Creationism, Old-Earth Creationism, and the Literary Framework viewpoint. I was impressed with how well Kalyn articulated each view, but then our friend asked us where we stood on the issue.

After thousands of dollars, a dozen Bible classes, and three years of college, this is our shared view on that specific matter. You might want to get your pencils out to take notes, because it's a doozy. Here it is:

It really doesn't matter.

Say whaaaaaaaaaat?!

Okay, okay, back up. Hold up. Pause. Stop, collaborate, and listen (okay, maybe that's a little too far).

In three years of debates, struggles, studies, and "building relationships" (because that's what MCC is "all about"), that is our conclusion about most things that people bring up about Christianity and the Bible.

It really doesn't matter.

I'm just going to go on record as saying that we paid entirely too much money for such a simple answer.

I mean, maybe we've failed as Christian college students, but something tells me we haven't. You see, there's a lot of reasoning behind our conclusion. I won't bore you with the details (unless you e-mail me and ask, in which case, I'd be glad to!), but suffice it to say, there's one main reason that brings me to the conclusion I'm at with this stuff:

If it does not help me to love people more, it really does not matter.

The end. Period. That's my bottom-line. I came to MCC for a number of reasons, but I'm leaving with only one: love. Not knowledge. Not because of my degree. Not to use the skills I've learned. I'm leaving in a year because I want to love people that I don't know. I want to love people that I don't understand. I want to love people that disagree with me.

And I don't just mean a "I have to love them, not like them" sort of attitude. I really want to love people. God's equipped me especially for that, and it's what I want to do.

Arguing about Creationism? Well, unless you're pretty creative, there are very few ways that you can love someone through that.

So for now, I let the arguments rest. Chances are, when we're all dead and gone and chatting up God, we'll find out we were completely wrong about almost everything, anyway. And at that point, I don't think I'll care, so why should I now?

Question: What is something that you struggle with that keeps you from loving others?

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.