Now that is a kiss.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Wedding
The wedding is coming soon and the "to do's" are climbing upon one another and forming what looks like an impenetrable wall. Honeymoon planning, suit fitting, travel, family and future are all coming together. Come and check out our wedding website and do not forget to read about our vision found in the future section of the website.
Sunday, January 02, 2005
Sermon
I stood silently before the sea of white haired listeners before beginning my sermon. Deadly still, they sat as if capsulated in time. I carefully arranged my notes and begin my sermon for the 204 listeners at Southern Charm Retirement Community. They laughed at my story at the beginning of my talk. Everyone was very friendly and relaxed. Did they know what was about to challenge their thinking?
I spoke on judging and love. Jesus teaching on judging is misunderstood and taken out of context by most, used instead as a shield against harsh comments by critics. Contrary to popular belief, Jesus taught in Matthew seven that we should be good judges, I explained. The main thrust of my sermon was taken from Paul’s teaching in Romans 14. There he writes that Christians should love and focus on the weightier teachings of scripture instead of focusing on disputable matters of which the Bible does not focus. The talk went well, though it reminded me of my need to drastically improve my public speaking ability.
I spoke on judging and love. Jesus teaching on judging is misunderstood and taken out of context by most, used instead as a shield against harsh comments by critics. Contrary to popular belief, Jesus taught in Matthew seven that we should be good judges, I explained. The main thrust of my sermon was taken from Paul’s teaching in Romans 14. There he writes that Christians should love and focus on the weightier teachings of scripture instead of focusing on disputable matters of which the Bible does not focus. The talk went well, though it reminded me of my need to drastically improve my public speaking ability.
Friday, December 24, 2004
Memories of Christmas with the Family
I miss my family. I miss running around through snow covered fields and rows of trees while we pick out the perfect evergreen. I miss feeling the snow fall down the back of my shirt as I saw away at the base of a shaking tree. I miss dodging snowballs thrown by kids dodging in and out of the trees while we drag our living room centerpiece back to the trailer.
I miss diving into the sled and yelling for that little kid to get out of the way, lest he is launched into the air by a piece of racing plastic supporting too many bodies. I miss feeling the air slice by my head, turning my ears and nose bright red as I race my brother down the hill and then quickly tumble out of the sled just in time to avoid the creek at the bottom of the hill. I miss coming home and stripping off layers of coats, sweaters, shirts and socks and then sipping eggnog and hot chocolate and talking to other rosy cheeked smiling faces.
I miss the Christmas carols and long rides through the country side eyeing glittering houses and standing face to face with giant nut-crackers, Santa Clauses and snow men. I miss trying to remember the words that form each of the twelve days of Christmas with my brothers and sisters. I miss the beautifully decorated table, the food and the four candles of advent that now stand at staggered heights while we eat and laugh and open the one little present that sits beside each of our plates.
I miss the soft glow of the Christmas tree decorated with a hodgepodge of ornaments and multi-colored lights. I miss early Christmas mornings when it seems that dad is taking a very, very long time to read the Christmas story. I miss the kids and presents and piles of wrapping paper spread all over the living room, making it nearly impossible to navigate without tripping.
I miss my family at Christmas.
I miss diving into the sled and yelling for that little kid to get out of the way, lest he is launched into the air by a piece of racing plastic supporting too many bodies. I miss feeling the air slice by my head, turning my ears and nose bright red as I race my brother down the hill and then quickly tumble out of the sled just in time to avoid the creek at the bottom of the hill. I miss coming home and stripping off layers of coats, sweaters, shirts and socks and then sipping eggnog and hot chocolate and talking to other rosy cheeked smiling faces.
I miss the Christmas carols and long rides through the country side eyeing glittering houses and standing face to face with giant nut-crackers, Santa Clauses and snow men. I miss trying to remember the words that form each of the twelve days of Christmas with my brothers and sisters. I miss the beautifully decorated table, the food and the four candles of advent that now stand at staggered heights while we eat and laugh and open the one little present that sits beside each of our plates.
I miss the soft glow of the Christmas tree decorated with a hodgepodge of ornaments and multi-colored lights. I miss early Christmas mornings when it seems that dad is taking a very, very long time to read the Christmas story. I miss the kids and presents and piles of wrapping paper spread all over the living room, making it nearly impossible to navigate without tripping.
I miss my family at Christmas.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
My Commencement Ceremony
Our speaker was terrible. Just when we thought he was going to return to his subject and address to us as students, he would turn to our college president and make a joke about giving his granddaughter a sports scholarship so that she could attend the school or he would start speaking about the destructiveness of homosexual marriage. I remember the Canadian speaker saying, “But you Americans didn’t help the ordinance of marriage any when your Episcopal Church began ordaining homosexuals.” When he continued to speaking for nearly an hour I considered standing up and throwing my graduation cap at him, but I assumed that I would probably miss, so I amused myself with the fun little tassels at the end of the honor cords hanging around my neck. I have been to many Southeastern graduations and heard many speakers, but this one was the worst.
Finally he finished and the degree candidates began to walk across the stage. “Would the candidates for the department of religion please stand and approach the platform,” Dr. Herron, the dean of students, said. I rose and followed the black gown and cap in front of me. The line of students between me and the stage dwindled as I drew near the top of the steps. It was now my turn to take the walk that I had so excitedly watched hundreds of former students complete. What happened next seemed to take a very long time. Dr. Herron began speaking. “Philip Mayer,” pause, “summa cum laude,” pause and then finally “four point-o.” As he finished speaking I began walking. Out I looked over the sea of faces. I do not remember any sounds or feelings or walking across the stage, but suddenly, I had reached our president, Dr. Mark Rutland, grasped his hand and held onto the diploma he had just handed me while trying to smile for the flashing camera. That was it. I walked back to my seat and moved my tassel from the right side of my hat to the left. Then, out of the speakers came, “Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the baccalaureate class of 2004.” Someone was grabbing my hand and congratulating me. All of the graduates were patting backs, smiling and were full of happiness. We had finished.
Finally he finished and the degree candidates began to walk across the stage. “Would the candidates for the department of religion please stand and approach the platform,” Dr. Herron, the dean of students, said. I rose and followed the black gown and cap in front of me. The line of students between me and the stage dwindled as I drew near the top of the steps. It was now my turn to take the walk that I had so excitedly watched hundreds of former students complete. What happened next seemed to take a very long time. Dr. Herron began speaking. “Philip Mayer,” pause, “summa cum laude,” pause and then finally “four point-o.” As he finished speaking I began walking. Out I looked over the sea of faces. I do not remember any sounds or feelings or walking across the stage, but suddenly, I had reached our president, Dr. Mark Rutland, grasped his hand and held onto the diploma he had just handed me while trying to smile for the flashing camera. That was it. I walked back to my seat and moved my tassel from the right side of my hat to the left. Then, out of the speakers came, “Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the baccalaureate class of 2004.” Someone was grabbing my hand and congratulating me. All of the graduates were patting backs, smiling and were full of happiness. We had finished.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Working at the Sheriff's Office
There I sit each working day, in my navy green pants and pristinely ironed white shirt, a badge on each shoulder and a silver star on my chest. Two computer screens stare, steadily back at me and like those awful ear muffs we wore as kids, a headset sits aloft my hair.
“Polk County Sheriff's Office, this is Philip speaking” –words I hear myself say many times each day.
The hurried voice of a female caller says, “Hello, is this the Sheriff’s Office? I’ve been raped.”
“You’ve been raped?” I ask, wanting to make sure that I have heard her correctly.
“Yes” she says. You can hear fear in her voice.
“Where are you at?”
“I’m calling from a payphone. I was going to the grocery store when these three Mexicans grabbed me and dragged me back to a trailer. . .”
“Is it safe there? Can you go back into the grocery store?” I ask.
“Into the grocery store! That’s where they got me. Listen, I’m hurting and I think that they’re coming back I gotta go.”
“Click”
There was nothing we could do. We had no idea where she was calling from.
Most of the calls are not so startling: “My neighbors won’t turn their music down and my baby can’t sleep.” A couple of weeks ago a man called in and said, “There’s a guy across the street from me who’s working on a car and he’s only wearing a thong. Could you send a deputy over here?” So is life working in the telecommunications center at the Sheriff’s Office.
“Polk County Sheriff's Office, this is Philip speaking” –words I hear myself say many times each day.
The hurried voice of a female caller says, “Hello, is this the Sheriff’s Office? I’ve been raped.”
“You’ve been raped?” I ask, wanting to make sure that I have heard her correctly.
“Yes” she says. You can hear fear in her voice.
“Where are you at?”
“I’m calling from a payphone. I was going to the grocery store when these three Mexicans grabbed me and dragged me back to a trailer. . .”
“Is it safe there? Can you go back into the grocery store?” I ask.
“Into the grocery store! That’s where they got me. Listen, I’m hurting and I think that they’re coming back I gotta go.”
“Click”
There was nothing we could do. We had no idea where she was calling from.
Most of the calls are not so startling: “My neighbors won’t turn their music down and my baby can’t sleep.” A couple of weeks ago a man called in and said, “There’s a guy across the street from me who’s working on a car and he’s only wearing a thong. Could you send a deputy over here?” So is life working in the telecommunications center at the Sheriff’s Office.
Monday, December 06, 2004
A Home for Melissa
Thanks so much for all of your prayers for my fiancée. Melissa will not be homeless after all. Melissa had explained to a friend of hers at work, the awkward position in which she and Meagan had found themselves and after going home and talking with her husband about the situation, they generously offered to rent to Melissa and Meagan the upstairs half of their home for the next four months. Melissa says that “I am amazed and blessed over and over again for the goodness and faithfulness of God in my life . . . God Bless and have a wonderful holiday season!”
Thursday, December 02, 2004
The Final Undergraduate Struggle
The clench of
Sunday, November 28, 2004
An Experience with the Episcopal Church
I have had the most interesting experience at All Saints Episcopal Church. My visits have changed the way that I understand tradition and worship. Sensual is probably the best word to describe the service built and designed from centuries of carefully crafted symbolic worship. As you know I have grown up in the Pentecostal Church, a young denomination not yet one hundred years old. Unlike the Episcopal Church, the Pentecostal church chose to throw off years of learning and church tradition and start anew. Some of the buildings are built well and glorify God with their beauty, but most are built plain and simple as is the church service and worship.
As I walked into the historic Episcopal Church building, which was built in the late eighteen hundreds, and looked around, I noticed high arching ceilings, intricately carved beams and beautifully stained glass, each colorfully arranged window a story in itself. At exactly nine o’clock the bell rang, the organ filled each space in the church and the ceremonial processional began. First came a young white robbed child holding a seven foot staff with a cross on top, walking slowly up the isle from the back of the church. Following her were two more robbed children each holding lit candles. Behind them were others, singers, more cross holders, one taller individual holding a golden plated Bible with reverence high above his head and last came the priest, step by step, patiently walking toward the front of the church and then seating himself inauspiciously next to the organ. The service had begun and an atmosphere of high worship and mystery had overtaken us all.
I say sensual because each of my senses were involved in the worship. I was reminded of God’s majesty as I looked around and took in the beauty of the sanctuary and the symbolic architecture. A throng of voices simultaneously read prayers of confession and attrition from the Book of Common Prayer. Everyone was now exiting the pews, bowing and then walking toward the front of the church. I awkwardly stepped out, bowed and followed. At the front of the church I knelt and held out my hands to receive the communion bread. “The body and blood of Christ” said the priest as I took the bread and tasted the wine, which left a slight burning feeling in my stomach. I stood up and walked through the prayer chapel filled with the air of fragrant incense and sat down back at my seat. Such depth of worship! Each movement, each symbol, each sound, touch, taste and prayer purposefully designed to glorify God. The experience reminded me of his greatness, his beauty, his mystery.
How can there be an advance in worship without tradition and Christian heritage? Technology is advanced because it is built upon the work of past generations, yet we have thrown aside the traditions of the church saying that they are old, stale and no longer of value, yet by tossing aside our heritage we are tossing aside a worship life of profound, tested spiritual substance. Tradition has become old and stale because we have failed to educate worshipers of the vibrancy of renewed worship rooted in the heritage of faith. We have forgotten to teach people what is happening and why. There is nothing wrong with new styles and means of worship, but they should be built and tempered upon a foundation of hundreds of years of worship practice. I highly encourage you to experience other forms of worship. Being raised as a good Pentecostal kid, I never would have thought of entering into the high church worship style of the Church of England or of a catholic church. I looked down on other denominations. Visiting these other brothers and sisters has expanded my vision and helped me to understand the traditions that have been refined with each service, each year, each century and passed down from generation to generation that we might be reminded of the greatness and mystery of God.
As I walked into the historic Episcopal Church building, which was built in the late eighteen hundreds, and looked around, I noticed high arching ceilings, intricately carved beams and beautifully stained glass, each colorfully arranged window a story in itself. At exactly nine o’clock the bell rang, the organ filled each space in the church and the ceremonial processional began. First came a young white robbed child holding a seven foot staff with a cross on top, walking slowly up the isle from the back of the church. Following her were two more robbed children each holding lit candles. Behind them were others, singers, more cross holders, one taller individual holding a golden plated Bible with reverence high above his head and last came the priest, step by step, patiently walking toward the front of the church and then seating himself inauspiciously next to the organ. The service had begun and an atmosphere of high worship and mystery had overtaken us all.
I say sensual because each of my senses were involved in the worship. I was reminded of God’s majesty as I looked around and took in the beauty of the sanctuary and the symbolic architecture. A throng of voices simultaneously read prayers of confession and attrition from the Book of Common Prayer. Everyone was now exiting the pews, bowing and then walking toward the front of the church. I awkwardly stepped out, bowed and followed. At the front of the church I knelt and held out my hands to receive the communion bread. “The body and blood of Christ” said the priest as I took the bread and tasted the wine, which left a slight burning feeling in my stomach. I stood up and walked through the prayer chapel filled with the air of fragrant incense and sat down back at my seat. Such depth of worship! Each movement, each symbol, each sound, touch, taste and prayer purposefully designed to glorify God. The experience reminded me of his greatness, his beauty, his mystery.
How can there be an advance in worship without tradition and Christian heritage? Technology is advanced because it is built upon the work of past generations, yet we have thrown aside the traditions of the church saying that they are old, stale and no longer of value, yet by tossing aside our heritage we are tossing aside a worship life of profound, tested spiritual substance. Tradition has become old and stale because we have failed to educate worshipers of the vibrancy of renewed worship rooted in the heritage of faith. We have forgotten to teach people what is happening and why. There is nothing wrong with new styles and means of worship, but they should be built and tempered upon a foundation of hundreds of years of worship practice. I highly encourage you to experience other forms of worship. Being raised as a good Pentecostal kid, I never would have thought of entering into the high church worship style of the Church of England or of a catholic church. I looked down on other denominations. Visiting these other brothers and sisters has expanded my vision and helped me to understand the traditions that have been refined with each service, each year, each century and passed down from generation to generation that we might be reminded of the greatness and mystery of God.
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Melissa's Living Situation
Melissa, my fiancée, is in a difficult spot right now. After December tenth she will have a place to live. Currently she is living at the Teen Challenge facility where she has been working for the past year. When she turned in her resignation letter to Teen Challenge her immediate future was well planned. She and two friends had applied to take up residence at Emerald Run Apartments. Melissa and Meagan were going to be living in one of the rooms of the apartment and together were going to be splitting half of the rent. Her other friend was going to occupy the second room and pay for the other half of the rent and then cover the entire rent of the seven month lease when Melissa and Meagan planned on moving out in May, but suddenly some adverse situations arose in this other friend’s life and she will be unable to rent along with Meagan and Melissa.
So, now Melissa is in a very difficult situation. She could move back to St. Cloud to live with her mother, but she promised her employer at Southeastern College that she would be working there until at least next summer. Should she go back on her word, she will lose her good name. Also, we will be getting married in April and so if she does move back to St. Cloud she will only be there for a few months before moving back to Lakeland to be with me, making a job situation very difficult because of the short amounts of time. Melissa wrote in an email she and Meagan
It is a rather confusing situation, but if you would, please pray that she and Meagan will quickly find a place (or places) to stay that will be within their limited budgets. I am sure that God will provide.
So, now Melissa is in a very difficult situation. She could move back to St. Cloud to live with her mother, but she promised her employer at Southeastern College that she would be working there until at least next summer. Should she go back on her word, she will lose her good name. Also, we will be getting married in April and so if she does move back to St. Cloud she will only be there for a few months before moving back to Lakeland to be with me, making a job situation very difficult because of the short amounts of time. Melissa wrote in an email she and Meagan
are looking for either someone with an apartment that may be looking for a roommate (or two) for the next four months or for someone who may have an extra room in their home that they wouldn't mind renting out to one or two young ladies. If you know of anyone who may be able to help us out, please call (321-287-3374) or email me Mmelissamary@gmail.com). I know that God is going to open up an opportunity for us and I thank you for all your prayers and support.
It is a rather confusing situation, but if you would, please pray that she and Meagan will quickly find a place (or places) to stay that will be within their limited budgets. I am sure that God will provide.
Friday, November 26, 2004
Thanksgiving with a Romantic
We pulled up in the driveway, got out of the car and began walking toward her mother’s empty house, when suddenly she turned to face me and while touching me gently she said, “Wait here.” I immediately remembered a few words that she had said earlier that morning while we were going to her dad’s house, sitting in the back seat of her sister’s car: “I have a surprise for you.” So, there I was standing in the driveway of my future mother-in-law’s house, trying to figure out what it was that Melissa, my fiancée, was doing inside.
“Maybe she bought a new outfit or a dress for a special occasion. That seems odd. Hmm, I never noticed before that this carport has a wood paneled ceiling.”
My mind had begun to wander as I looked up at the darkening sky and then down at the ground where tiny ants were systematically going about their work as I listened to the sounds coming from inside the house: quick footsteps going back and forth and a kitchen drawer opening and then closing.
I was not feeling so well. I am sure that you felt the same on Thursday. We had just come back from Thanksgiving dinner with family and friends. There were about fifteen people there and try as we might, one could hardly tell that we had decreased the size of the generous piles, plates and dishes of food that had been prepared—enough for at least fifty hearty eaters. I was beginning to feel the rolls, deep fried turkey, blackberry pie and brownies that had settled themselves somewhat uncomfortably into my crowded stomach.
The lights inside the house became dark. Having finished whatever it was that she was doing, Melissa now stood at the door and said, “You can come in.” I followed her into the house. She stopped and pushed a button on a boom box and Nat King Cole’s voice followed us into the front room where the Christmas tree glowed and lit candles scattered light about the room.
“Would you like to dance?” Melissa asked.
“Sure,” I said as we drew close together. I started to laugh. I do not know exactly why. I was surprised at the experience that she had so carefully created.
“Are you laughing at me?” she said.
“No, I’m just happy, happy that you would think about me; happy that you would do this for me,” I answered.
We danced.
Suddenly, the door swung open and her cousin came trotting in carrying some folding chairs. Embarrassed, we quickly let go of one another, turned off Nat King Cole and blew out the candles.
“I’m sorry” Melissa said.
“It’s okay,” I replied.
We finished helping her cousin unload the chairs. He left and we re-lit the candles, turned off the lights and turned on Mr. Cole.
We danced. We looked into each others eyes. We sat down on the couch. We drank fruit cool-aid out of wine glasses and talked about how thankful we were for each other. Soon everyone began returning home and our time was finished.
I am thankful for Melissa. I am thankful for her thoughtfulness, for her love and for a few romantic moments at the end of a Thanksgiving Day.
“Maybe she bought a new outfit or a dress for a special occasion. That seems odd. Hmm, I never noticed before that this carport has a wood paneled ceiling.”
My mind had begun to wander as I looked up at the darkening sky and then down at the ground where tiny ants were systematically going about their work as I listened to the sounds coming from inside the house: quick footsteps going back and forth and a kitchen drawer opening and then closing.
I was not feeling so well. I am sure that you felt the same on Thursday. We had just come back from Thanksgiving dinner with family and friends. There were about fifteen people there and try as we might, one could hardly tell that we had decreased the size of the generous piles, plates and dishes of food that had been prepared—enough for at least fifty hearty eaters. I was beginning to feel the rolls, deep fried turkey, blackberry pie and brownies that had settled themselves somewhat uncomfortably into my crowded stomach.
The lights inside the house became dark. Having finished whatever it was that she was doing, Melissa now stood at the door and said, “You can come in.” I followed her into the house. She stopped and pushed a button on a boom box and Nat King Cole’s voice followed us into the front room where the Christmas tree glowed and lit candles scattered light about the room.
“Would you like to dance?” Melissa asked.
“Sure,” I said as we drew close together. I started to laugh. I do not know exactly why. I was surprised at the experience that she had so carefully created.
“Are you laughing at me?” she said.
“No, I’m just happy, happy that you would think about me; happy that you would do this for me,” I answered.
We danced.
Suddenly, the door swung open and her cousin came trotting in carrying some folding chairs. Embarrassed, we quickly let go of one another, turned off Nat King Cole and blew out the candles.
“I’m sorry” Melissa said.
“It’s okay,” I replied.
We finished helping her cousin unload the chairs. He left and we re-lit the candles, turned off the lights and turned on Mr. Cole.
We danced. We looked into each others eyes. We sat down on the couch. We drank fruit cool-aid out of wine glasses and talked about how thankful we were for each other. Soon everyone began returning home and our time was finished.
I am thankful for Melissa. I am thankful for her thoughtfulness, for her love and for a few romantic moments at the end of a Thanksgiving Day.
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
A Life Plan
I am very excited about my future together with Melissa. All of the pieces are finally beginning to come together in an understandable shape. I have often felt that my interests were broad and disconnected, but I believe that I am beginning to see why God has shaped me with tendencies toward youth ministry, adventure, theology, world travel, business, missions, leadership, church planting and teaching.
When I first began to realize that I was supposed to go into ministry I was sure that it was youth ministry so I began working hard along with the community church as a youth leader doing youth events, outreaches and fundraising, once for over $6,000 to take fifty youth to a national Teen Mania youth retreat in Indiana.
Lately I have become extremely interested in theology and philosophy. These subjects, though difficult enter into, are extremely intriguing so much so that men and women have dedicated their entire lives to these pursuits. Is it possible to answer questions of free will and evil?
So how does all of that fit in with my adventurous streak? I remember as a young kid, the thrill of jumping on my bike or tromping through deep woods exploring places I had never been. I was always trying to get someone to go with me on my wilderness adventurous. I pulled along brothers and sisters, friends and sometimes my dog and together we would climb hills and jump logs, pole vault over streams and climb trees.
Before coming here to Southeastern College my main goal in life was to become a great leader. I remember sitting on my bed and looking through my brother’s books and noticing one that said The 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership. I asked my brother about it and soon my journey into the world of leadership commenced. I have always wanted to be a leader. I as a kid I recruited younger siblings as well as the neighborhood kids to play soccer, kickball and basketball or to go on adventures to the sandpit. I remember specifically choosing to be the goalie at a church soccer game so that I could see the big picture and yell out commands and encouragements to my team mates. I remember trying to be the team leader and I also remember that no one listened to me. I did not know much about influence back then.
Here at Southeastern College I was sitting in class about a year ago when the Dr. Hackett asked, “Where are my future church planters?” I thought about it for a moment and then tossed up my hand. That was the first time I had ever considered it. Melissa, my fiancée is also incredibly ambitious, loves to travel and is great with people. What are we to do with all of these gifts and desires?
Yesterday I had an epiphany. I believe that I am beginning to see how all of the pieces are to fit. I believe that Melissa and I have been given all of these desires so that God willing, we might be prepared to train and mentor indigenous pastors on the mission field. So, within the next five to six years we will be studying for masters degrees while working as youth pastors. By the time that we turn thirty, we would like to be pastoring a growing church and then planting a church during our forties. At age fifty we will begin preparations to move oversees to help establish and plant an indigenous church. Then by the time that we are in our mid sixties will be raising up and training native pastors in church starved countries. Although there are many things to do, I am excited about what God has planned for our lives as we commit to spreading his fame throughout the earth.
When I first began to realize that I was supposed to go into ministry I was sure that it was youth ministry so I began working hard along with the community church as a youth leader doing youth events, outreaches and fundraising, once for over $6,000 to take fifty youth to a national Teen Mania youth retreat in Indiana.
Lately I have become extremely interested in theology and philosophy. These subjects, though difficult enter into, are extremely intriguing so much so that men and women have dedicated their entire lives to these pursuits. Is it possible to answer questions of free will and evil?
So how does all of that fit in with my adventurous streak? I remember as a young kid, the thrill of jumping on my bike or tromping through deep woods exploring places I had never been. I was always trying to get someone to go with me on my wilderness adventurous. I pulled along brothers and sisters, friends and sometimes my dog and together we would climb hills and jump logs, pole vault over streams and climb trees.
Before coming here to Southeastern College my main goal in life was to become a great leader. I remember sitting on my bed and looking through my brother’s books and noticing one that said The 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership. I asked my brother about it and soon my journey into the world of leadership commenced. I have always wanted to be a leader. I as a kid I recruited younger siblings as well as the neighborhood kids to play soccer, kickball and basketball or to go on adventures to the sandpit. I remember specifically choosing to be the goalie at a church soccer game so that I could see the big picture and yell out commands and encouragements to my team mates. I remember trying to be the team leader and I also remember that no one listened to me. I did not know much about influence back then.
Here at Southeastern College I was sitting in class about a year ago when the Dr. Hackett asked, “Where are my future church planters?” I thought about it for a moment and then tossed up my hand. That was the first time I had ever considered it. Melissa, my fiancée is also incredibly ambitious, loves to travel and is great with people. What are we to do with all of these gifts and desires?
Yesterday I had an epiphany. I believe that I am beginning to see how all of the pieces are to fit. I believe that Melissa and I have been given all of these desires so that God willing, we might be prepared to train and mentor indigenous pastors on the mission field. So, within the next five to six years we will be studying for masters degrees while working as youth pastors. By the time that we turn thirty, we would like to be pastoring a growing church and then planting a church during our forties. At age fifty we will begin preparations to move oversees to help establish and plant an indigenous church. Then by the time that we are in our mid sixties will be raising up and training native pastors in church starved countries. Although there are many things to do, I am excited about what God has planned for our lives as we commit to spreading his fame throughout the earth.
Monday, November 15, 2004
My Grandfather is Dying
My mom emailed me today and said that from time to time over the past several months Grandpa has had episodes of lightness and heaviness in his chest. These incidents were not painful, but uncomfortable. He has been experiencing symptoms of indigestion occasionally as well, which can be attributed to his heart. It is Grandpa’s wish that there be no medical intervention if he does have any further health problems and as hard as it is to stand by and watch someone suffer, Grandma has promised him that she will honor his request and will only call in re-enforcements if he asks for the help.
Grandpa attends a very small church someplace in Saginaw, Michigan when he feels able to go and the weather safely permits him to do so. When my mom visited with him yesterday afternoon (at home) he said that he was feeling fine when he went to church. He was burdened for his family and just before the pastor was to begin to speak he interrupted the order of the service and asked that they all (about 10 members) pray for his family. He said that he began to share his request and got excited and started to shout (you all may never have really seen him in action, but he can 'really' stomp and shout). The congregation prayed with him and service proceeded. He said it was then that he began to feel the chest pain. He waited until service was done and asked for prayer, telling them that he was having chest pains. Those people were not very smart! They had him come up to the front and stand while they prayed for him. As is typical with a heart attack, he broke out in a cold sweat, felt very weak and had to sit down. They offered him a cold drink of water, thinking it would help which he drank and then promptly threw up. All of these experiences and symptoms are strong indications of a heart attack. They offered to drive him home, but he refused and drove himself home (a very foolish thing to do).
When my mom visited him in the afternoon yesterday he was resting when she arrived, but then said he was feeling much better - no more heaviness or pain, and got up and had coffee with us. My mom remarked that she believes Grandpa will be eighty-three years of age on January 19, 2005 and she says,
Grandpa attends a very small church someplace in Saginaw, Michigan when he feels able to go and the weather safely permits him to do so. When my mom visited with him yesterday afternoon (at home) he said that he was feeling fine when he went to church. He was burdened for his family and just before the pastor was to begin to speak he interrupted the order of the service and asked that they all (about 10 members) pray for his family. He said that he began to share his request and got excited and started to shout (you all may never have really seen him in action, but he can 'really' stomp and shout). The congregation prayed with him and service proceeded. He said it was then that he began to feel the chest pain. He waited until service was done and asked for prayer, telling them that he was having chest pains. Those people were not very smart! They had him come up to the front and stand while they prayed for him. As is typical with a heart attack, he broke out in a cold sweat, felt very weak and had to sit down. They offered him a cold drink of water, thinking it would help which he drank and then promptly threw up. All of these experiences and symptoms are strong indications of a heart attack. They offered to drive him home, but he refused and drove himself home (a very foolish thing to do).
When my mom visited him in the afternoon yesterday he was resting when she arrived, but then said he was feeling much better - no more heaviness or pain, and got up and had coffee with us. My mom remarked that she believes Grandpa will be eighty-three years of age on January 19, 2005 and she says,
God has given him a long life and we do not know what the future holds. Neither he nor Grandma are in the best of health and there is no way for us to know how long they will be with us. Their children and their grandchildren are the pride of their life. They love nothing more than to brag on their family. They love to talk about the accomplishments of their grandchildren, where they are, who they are marrying, what they're doing, and of course, how many they have twenty-seven at last count with a great grandchild on the way.Please pray that all will be peaceful. Thanks
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Differences Between Churches are Dying
Today I went with Melissa to meet with the Episcopal Diocese concerning a large youth event (600 plus kids) at which Melissa will be speaking. As you know, I grew up as a good Pentecostal kid and I always thought that there were major differences between The Church of England (Episcopal is a split off of the catholic church), but I am having trouble finding those ‘major’ differences. As we opened up the leadership and brainstorming meeting, we sang the song “Hungry” and prayed and then spoke about how we could more effectively reach more kids in the Orlando area. I have been to many leadership planning meetings within other churches (non Episcopal) and I could not see any difference between those meetings and this one! Ninety percent of what churches talk about and do is the same as ninety percent of what other churches do. Doctrinal differences such as prayer languages and views of the sacraments are things that are rarely taught or mentioned in the Church and yet we have allowed these things to tear us apart and weaken us. How far we have fallen from Paul’s urging in Romans: do not pass “judgment on disputable matters” (14:1), but instead “make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification” (v. 19).
You just watch. Denominationalism is on its way out. The church in America is coming back together.
You just watch. Denominationalism is on its way out. The church in America is coming back together.
Friday, November 12, 2004
The Church Denounces War in Iraqi
When the war in Iraqi first began I was in full support of Bush’s decision to go and “protect” our country, but as I found out more and more information concerning the war I am beginning to see a side that has previously been invisible to me. From what I understand every mainline church has spoken against Bush’s decision to go to war according to the Orlando Sentinel.
There has been a tremendous loss of life according to the Lancet Medical Journal which concluded that 100,000 civilians died in the US-led invasion of Iraq, most of which were woman and children. Even worse the U.S. military refuses all responsibility. Gen. Tommy Franks could not have been more direct: "We don’t do body counts."
After doing some reading I discovered that Fuller Theological Seminary professors have signed a statement speaking of the "grave moral crisis” in America, and are signing a statement opposing President Bush's alleged convergence of God, church and nation and what they call his "theology of war.” In Bush's 2002 State of the Union address the president labeled Iran, Iraq and North Korea the "axis of evil,” Stassen said "Calling the three nations the 'axis of evil' and refusing to acknowledge any errors that he has made, that sets up a dichotomy between righteous United States and unrighteous 'axis of evil.’ [This] leads to a crusade in which Christians think the Christian thing to do is support war-making against an allegedly unrighteous enemy.”
I also discovered that other sources say, “Iraq is no threat to the U.S.” Bishop Gumbleton describes a land that was already in great turmoil after its eight-year war with Iran (1980-88). Now, after the Gulf War (1990-1991), “once-prosperous people beg openly on the streets. Plumbing, electricity, transportation, business and employment: All the systems necessary to a modern nation are held together with baling wire and even that is in short supply.” I could hardly believe my eyes when I discovered that according to the UNICEF (United Nations), “5,000 Iraqi children a month die from diarrhea, pneumonia, breathing problems and malnutrition as a result of the economic sanctions. Iraq has been allowed to sell $5.26 billion worth of oil for food and medicine every six months under the U.N. arrangements described by Patriarch Raphael, but this does not suffice to bring the nation’s people back from the brink. Economic sanctions have cut revenues by 90 percent!”
Chuck Colson when speaking of the Yugoslavia campaign and the Church’s involvement in past wars said, "The Vietnam-era protests weren't the only time that the Church argued against its own government's use of military force. During World War II, British clergy denounced their own government's carpet bombing of German cities. And before the Gulf War, many Christians raised serious Just War concerns. It was a healthy debate.
These Christians, right or wrong, at least recognized that a Christian's first allegiance is to the City of God. Whether Caesar listens or not, we are to be the conscience of society.
So if the campaign in Yugoslavia should tragically turn into a quagmire from which the U.S. can't extricate itself--a real possibility, many fear-- the blame will lie not only at the feet of the president and his administration, but also at the feet of those Christians who said nothing."
There has been a tremendous loss of life according to the Lancet Medical Journal which concluded that 100,000 civilians died in the US-led invasion of Iraq, most of which were woman and children. Even worse the U.S. military refuses all responsibility. Gen. Tommy Franks could not have been more direct: "We don’t do body counts."
After doing some reading I discovered that Fuller Theological Seminary professors have signed a statement speaking of the "grave moral crisis” in America, and are signing a statement opposing President Bush's alleged convergence of God, church and nation and what they call his "theology of war.” In Bush's 2002 State of the Union address the president labeled Iran, Iraq and North Korea the "axis of evil,” Stassen said "Calling the three nations the 'axis of evil' and refusing to acknowledge any errors that he has made, that sets up a dichotomy between righteous United States and unrighteous 'axis of evil.’ [This] leads to a crusade in which Christians think the Christian thing to do is support war-making against an allegedly unrighteous enemy.”
I also discovered that other sources say, “Iraq is no threat to the U.S.” Bishop Gumbleton describes a land that was already in great turmoil after its eight-year war with Iran (1980-88). Now, after the Gulf War (1990-1991), “once-prosperous people beg openly on the streets. Plumbing, electricity, transportation, business and employment: All the systems necessary to a modern nation are held together with baling wire and even that is in short supply.” I could hardly believe my eyes when I discovered that according to the UNICEF (United Nations), “5,000 Iraqi children a month die from diarrhea, pneumonia, breathing problems and malnutrition as a result of the economic sanctions. Iraq has been allowed to sell $5.26 billion worth of oil for food and medicine every six months under the U.N. arrangements described by Patriarch Raphael, but this does not suffice to bring the nation’s people back from the brink. Economic sanctions have cut revenues by 90 percent!”
Chuck Colson when speaking of the Yugoslavia campaign and the Church’s involvement in past wars said, "The Vietnam-era protests weren't the only time that the Church argued against its own government's use of military force. During World War II, British clergy denounced their own government's carpet bombing of German cities. And before the Gulf War, many Christians raised serious Just War concerns. It was a healthy debate.
These Christians, right or wrong, at least recognized that a Christian's first allegiance is to the City of God. Whether Caesar listens or not, we are to be the conscience of society.
So if the campaign in Yugoslavia should tragically turn into a quagmire from which the U.S. can't extricate itself--a real possibility, many fear-- the blame will lie not only at the feet of the president and his administration, but also at the feet of those Christians who said nothing."
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
And You Think You Understand Suffering?
I just read a great book for my Contemporary Literature Class titled The Jungle. This novel by Upton Sinclair was first published in the early 1900s and had such shock value that the United States President, Theodore Roosevelt, ordered a federal investigation into the food industry, the book sold over 150,00 copies and Sinclair was able to become a national figure and run on the socialist ticket for congress. I thoroughly enjoyed reading The Jungle and I feel that the sensuality of life has been revealed to me in an unpredictable way. Raised in a strong republican family I scoffed at those who labeled themselves as ‘victims’ and reacted to life through the victim philosophy of the socialist cause. After reading Sinclair’s novel I have begun to think that just maybe there might be some truth to the impossibility of individuality and making it on one’s own by simply working harder. I have also realized that there is good in suffering and that until a person goes through brutal suffering a person has not authentically experienced the extent of being human. Suffering is good in for its own sake. I often have heard it argued that suffering is a means rather than an end; suffering is in place to help one become more appreciative. But, after vicariously feeling some of those same depths that Sinclair depicted through Jurgis (pronounced yar-gis), I believe that maybe suffering is in fact good.
Jurgis, a Lithuanian immigrant who had come to Chicago because of rumors of becoming rich in America, continued working and though life was hard Jurgis and his family was able to continue earning money and stay alive until one unforeseen day in the middle of a harsh winter when a steer broke loose at the stockyards and Jurgis, in an effort to leap to safety, badly sprained his ankle. He tried to continue work, but soon the pain became so extreme that he almost fainted. Somehow he managed to make it home that night though the blistering snow, though he could scarcely see for the pain. After a visit to the doctor he and the family realized with terror in their hearts that Jurgis would be unable to return to work for at least three months. His seventeen and half cents an hour job would surely be given away in a matter of hours to one of the hundreds of unemployed men waiting out in the cold for work and there was no such thing as suing your employer or workers compensation. Jurgis family would soon be out of money and they were still in the bitter months of winter. For Jurgis, shivering and painfully now lying in his bed in the drafty threadbaren place that he called home:
Jurgis, a Lithuanian immigrant who had come to Chicago because of rumors of becoming rich in America, continued working and though life was hard Jurgis and his family was able to continue earning money and stay alive until one unforeseen day in the middle of a harsh winter when a steer broke loose at the stockyards and Jurgis, in an effort to leap to safety, badly sprained his ankle. He tried to continue work, but soon the pain became so extreme that he almost fainted. Somehow he managed to make it home that night though the blistering snow, though he could scarcely see for the pain. After a visit to the doctor he and the family realized with terror in their hearts that Jurgis would be unable to return to work for at least three months. His seventeen and half cents an hour job would surely be given away in a matter of hours to one of the hundreds of unemployed men waiting out in the cold for work and there was no such thing as suing your employer or workers compensation. Jurgis family would soon be out of money and they were still in the bitter months of winter. For Jurgis, shivering and painfully now lying in his bed in the drafty threadbaren place that he called home:
It was like seeing the world fall away from underneath his feet; like plunging down into a bottomless abyss, and to yawning caverns of despair. It might be true, then, after all, what others had told him about life, that the best powers of a man might not be equal to it! It might be true that, strive as he would, toil as he would, he might fail, and go down and be destroyed! The thought of this was like an icy hand at his hearth; the thought that here, in this ghastly home of all horror, he and all those who were dear to him might lie and perish of starvation and cold and there would be no ear to hear their cry, no hand to help them! It was true, it was true—that there in this huge city, with its stores of heaped-up wealth, human creatures” might die without the slightest share of mercy (111-112).Sinclair, Upton. The Jungle. New York: Airmont, 1965.
Friday, October 08, 2004
A Marriage Proposal
Friday, October 8 is a day that I had been planning for a while. I had met with both her mom and dad to ask them if they would give me their permission to ask Melissa to marry me. This girl loves surprises but she is impossibly hard to catch unaware. I thought for a long time about how exactly I would ask her to marry me. I knew that she loves to be the center of attention, that her family is highly important to her and that she loves creativity. I needed a plan.
Friday rolled around and Melissa and I were in the car and driving to her sister’s house where her mom just so ‘happened’ to decide to throw Melissa a party. We arrived in the driveway and I said to Melissa, “There seems to be a lot of cars here. I thought that your mom said she was going to throw you a small party with your family.” “Yeah” she remarked nonchalantly. We walked into the house and began chatting with her family and friends.
I nervously picked at the hamburger and pasta mixture on my plate as I thought ahead to what I was about to do. Time passed quickly that evening and before long Jen, Melissa’s sister and Megan, Melissa’s best friend, were ushering Melissa outside for a ‘special game.’ They blindfolded her and led her to the backyard where she was instructed to follow the yarn that had been previously strewn across the yard extending from a building to a fence to a post etc. She followed it until she came to her first birthday present. I can’t remember what it was. In fact I can hardly remember anything that she received that day while she blindly followed that red thread from gift to gift and card to card. As soon as she started her ‘special game’ I quickly ran around the front of the house to grab a special little item out of the car and then came back to where Melissa was trustingly traversing across the grass, guided by the red cord. She was almost finished. I now tightly grasped the end of the yarn that Megan handed to me as Melissa came closer and closer until finally she was touching my hands.
What happened next seemed to pass like a dream after waking. The sun had gone down and the light was dim. Off her blindfold came. I dropped to one knee and then silence. Though we were surrounded by family and friends for that moment they seemed to fade away. “Baby, I love you and I would like to spend the rest of my life with you.” I could feel the ring between my fingers as I said, “I would like to know if you would be willing to . . .” At that moment I revealed the ring which seemed to float between my fingers. I had no time to think. Instead the words that I had practiced in front of the mirror so many times before continued to form on my tongue: “I would like to know if you would be willing to let go of everything that you have ever known and embark on a grand new adventure, together. Melissa will you marry me?” Her eyes were sparkling as she . . . .
Friday rolled around and Melissa and I were in the car and driving to her sister’s house where her mom just so ‘happened’ to decide to throw Melissa a party. We arrived in the driveway and I said to Melissa, “There seems to be a lot of cars here. I thought that your mom said she was going to throw you a small party with your family.” “Yeah” she remarked nonchalantly. We walked into the house and began chatting with her family and friends.
I nervously picked at the hamburger and pasta mixture on my plate as I thought ahead to what I was about to do. Time passed quickly that evening and before long Jen, Melissa’s sister and Megan, Melissa’s best friend, were ushering Melissa outside for a ‘special game.’ They blindfolded her and led her to the backyard where she was instructed to follow the yarn that had been previously strewn across the yard extending from a building to a fence to a post etc. She followed it until she came to her first birthday present. I can’t remember what it was. In fact I can hardly remember anything that she received that day while she blindly followed that red thread from gift to gift and card to card. As soon as she started her ‘special game’ I quickly ran around the front of the house to grab a special little item out of the car and then came back to where Melissa was trustingly traversing across the grass, guided by the red cord. She was almost finished. I now tightly grasped the end of the yarn that Megan handed to me as Melissa came closer and closer until finally she was touching my hands.
What happened next seemed to pass like a dream after waking. The sun had gone down and the light was dim. Off her blindfold came. I dropped to one knee and then silence. Though we were surrounded by family and friends for that moment they seemed to fade away. “Baby, I love you and I would like to spend the rest of my life with you.” I could feel the ring between my fingers as I said, “I would like to know if you would be willing to . . .” At that moment I revealed the ring which seemed to float between my fingers. I had no time to think. Instead the words that I had practiced in front of the mirror so many times before continued to form on my tongue: “I would like to know if you would be willing to let go of everything that you have ever known and embark on a grand new adventure, together. Melissa will you marry me?” Her eyes were sparkling as she . . . .
said “yes.”
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
A Morning with Her Father
It was early, 7:35 AM when I ran outside and jumped into my car to leave for Orlando. “What about the ring? He may want to see it. It may help to communicate to him how much his daughter means to me.” I hurriedly jumped out of my car and fumbled with the keys while trying to unlock the door that I had just locked on my way out. I ran into the house and grabbed the small white box upon which was written “ZALES the diamond store.” I was now on my way to see her dad.
“How is he going to respond” I wondered to myself as I repeated the few carefully contemplated words that would alter not only my life and hers, but would strongly affect many others who were close to us. I pictured in my mind him and I sitting across the table from one another when suddenly out of my mouth came the words “I would like to know if you will give me your permission, that I might ask your daughter to marry me.”
My mind was back on traffic now. Have I ever told you how bad the traffic is down here in Florida? It’s terrible. Construction has been going on night and day since I have arrived here over two years ago and yet I have still to notice any progress. The cars between me and the stoplight ahead, at which I planned to turn, stretched on for nearly a mile. I could just barely make out the signal in the distance as I brought my car to a stop behind a fellow Floridian commuter. Upon second thought as to my traveling plans I quickly made a u-turn and decided to take the toll road, though two dollars lighter I knew my wallet would be. It was important that I arrived at her father’s house in time.
Finely though nearly two hours later, I had made it. After at least two or three wrong turns and probably that many calls to her dad’s cell phone I was knocking at his door. All of this and I was only fifteen minutes late. We sat down together at his kitchen table and chatted about work, the war in Iraq and the recent hurricanes when suddenly the conversation came to a lull and he said, “So what’s up?” I hesitated and then asked him the question that I had repeated so many times in my head. I spoke the words that caused me so much thought and so little sleep the previous night and then . . . silence. I waited for him to respond. He paused for a moment and then began asking the questions. “How are you going to take care of her?” “You’re not going to take her out of the country on any missionary endeavors are you?” “What are your future plans?” “When would you like to get married?” Though I tried to answer his questions confidently and with strong assurance, the words seemed to stumble as they hobbled on out of my mouth. Somehow they must have come across with some amount of persuasion because before I knew it there was a smile on his face and an outstretched arm which I firmly grasped and happily shook—a feeling of relief coming over me. “Congratulations,” he said.
“How is he going to respond” I wondered to myself as I repeated the few carefully contemplated words that would alter not only my life and hers, but would strongly affect many others who were close to us. I pictured in my mind him and I sitting across the table from one another when suddenly out of my mouth came the words “I would like to know if you will give me your permission, that I might ask your daughter to marry me.”
My mind was back on traffic now. Have I ever told you how bad the traffic is down here in Florida? It’s terrible. Construction has been going on night and day since I have arrived here over two years ago and yet I have still to notice any progress. The cars between me and the stoplight ahead, at which I planned to turn, stretched on for nearly a mile. I could just barely make out the signal in the distance as I brought my car to a stop behind a fellow Floridian commuter. Upon second thought as to my traveling plans I quickly made a u-turn and decided to take the toll road, though two dollars lighter I knew my wallet would be. It was important that I arrived at her father’s house in time.
Finely though nearly two hours later, I had made it. After at least two or three wrong turns and probably that many calls to her dad’s cell phone I was knocking at his door. All of this and I was only fifteen minutes late. We sat down together at his kitchen table and chatted about work, the war in Iraq and the recent hurricanes when suddenly the conversation came to a lull and he said, “So what’s up?” I hesitated and then asked him the question that I had repeated so many times in my head. I spoke the words that caused me so much thought and so little sleep the previous night and then . . . silence. I waited for him to respond. He paused for a moment and then began asking the questions. “How are you going to take care of her?” “You’re not going to take her out of the country on any missionary endeavors are you?” “What are your future plans?” “When would you like to get married?” Though I tried to answer his questions confidently and with strong assurance, the words seemed to stumble as they hobbled on out of my mouth. Somehow they must have come across with some amount of persuasion because before I knew it there was a smile on his face and an outstretched arm which I firmly grasped and happily shook—a feeling of relief coming over me. “Congratulations,” he said.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
My Experience with Hurricane Frances
Florida has made it through one of God’s fiercest forces, Hurricane Frances. She produced high wind gusts and steady rain, but as far as I can tell the central part of the state fared well. Most folks were fearfully and strongly motivated to prepare as much as possible for Frances after their experiences with Charley's wake. Certain shelves at WalMart were carefully picked clean of needed back-up items, batteries and such and I understand that Home Depot sold quite a few plywood sheets to folks who wanted to board up their windows. There's much money to be made from these hurricanes. My girlfriend Melissa, who works at Teen Challenge, a home for troubled girls, helped to evacuate thirty-one teenage girls to the local high school where they safely stayed the night waiting for Frances to pass. I spent the day with her and the girls on Sunday. It was quite a site. Hundreds of people lined the halls of the school, sitting on blankets and pillows, chatting with one another and played games while they impatiently waited for the barely moving hurricane to pass. Everyone finally left the shelter at about six or seven that evening. Though the winds still seemed to be blowing fiercely the worst of the circling personality had strolled its way on through Lakeland, Florida.
Monday, August 30, 2004
Taking the Lie Detector Test
I’m working hard to get my job back at the Sheriff’s Office in the communication center where all of the 911 calls are received. I had to take another lie detector test as part of the interview process and it is as if one is baring his soul to the proctor. There you are in a sound-proof room, seated with both feet planted firmly on the floor. Straps are wrapped around your body, your arm and your fingers to measure every breath you take, every beat of your heart and every hint of perspiration. What happens if you make a mistake? You’re doing your best to tell the truth, but will it look like you have lied if you are nervous during the test? All of these thoughts are raging through your head as you consciously feel your heart pumping against the strap circling your chest. The beige wall seems to focus in and out as the man asks you a question and then pauses to stare at his computer screen and then back at you. You are not allowed to look at him, but instead the nail in the wall in front of you is your only friend. One of the questions he asks is, “Have you ever done anything bad?” Who could possibly answer that question no? Of course you’ve done something bad. “Have you ever lied about someone behind his or her back?” Soon the test is over and you’re relieved to find out that you have passed.
Saturday, January 31, 2004
Our First Date
I don’t know if I mentioned to you that Melissa and I are seeing each other. I was rather nervous when I asked her if she was willing to pursue a committed relationship because I had been praying for weeks that if this wasn’t right, that she would say no. So, I wasn’t sure what exactly that she was going to say. I talked to her on Friday, and asked her if she was still planning on going bowling with a bunch of friends on Saturday and she replied that most of the people that she had talked to didn’t want to spend the money. So, I asked her, “What about rollerblading?”
“Well,” she replied, “not everyone has rollerblades.”
“What about just you and me?” She looked at me blankly, not sure what to say. “Think about and let me know.” I told her before saying good bye and heading toward my dorm room.
Well, as I’m sure that you have guessed, she came to me later that day and said that she would like to go. It was set, just she and I. I didn’t want to make it too serious of a thing, so I thought rollerblading would be fun, but as causal as the “date” seemed, I was still nervous. I took a shower, combed my hair just right and even pulled out the Tommy Hilfiger bath set that I had received for Christmas. Seven o’clock came around and I went on over to the dorm room that she was at and knocked on the door. The door opened and there she was, though causally dressed, she had just gotten her hair cut and was looking rather attractive. The night had begun. We rollerbladed and carried on a normal conversation for a while, before driving on over to Lake Hollingsworth for a starry walk around the lake.
The lake was perfect. I saw a cute little dock jutting out into the rippling water, and thought it looked like a great place to sit down and ask her about a serious courtship. I led her over to the dock, sat down and swung my feet over the edge, when suddenly, SPLASH! Though I couldn’t see it very well the murky black water was at a very high level, almost up to the edge of the boards. I jumped up, thoughts of alligators jumping into my head. No, no, this dock wouldn’t work. After a few more minutes of walking, we had found the perfect dock. I sat down. She sat down. After a few minutes I turned to her and began the conversation.
“Melissa, I’m strongly attracted to you and I have been thinking a lot about you . . .” You should have seen the smile on her face. Her eyes were practically sparkling. I went on to ask her if a purposeful relationship was something that she was sure about committing to.
She said “Yes.”
So, now we’re together and we’ve been having a lot of fun over the past few weeks getting to know one another, planning our relationship, setting boundaries and working together. We’re even working on a mission statement for our relationship. So far we have: “To exhibit a godly relationship of moral excellence, respect and commitment as we value, enjoy, discover and learn about each other while exploring the possibility of marriage.”
Thank you for keeping us in your prayers Alayna. I wish that you could be down here, along with the rest of the family, getting to know Melissa with me. I really miss all of you. Tell everyone that I said hi. I love you.
“Well,” she replied, “not everyone has rollerblades.”
“What about just you and me?” She looked at me blankly, not sure what to say. “Think about and let me know.” I told her before saying good bye and heading toward my dorm room.
Well, as I’m sure that you have guessed, she came to me later that day and said that she would like to go. It was set, just she and I. I didn’t want to make it too serious of a thing, so I thought rollerblading would be fun, but as causal as the “date” seemed, I was still nervous. I took a shower, combed my hair just right and even pulled out the Tommy Hilfiger bath set that I had received for Christmas. Seven o’clock came around and I went on over to the dorm room that she was at and knocked on the door. The door opened and there she was, though causally dressed, she had just gotten her hair cut and was looking rather attractive. The night had begun. We rollerbladed and carried on a normal conversation for a while, before driving on over to Lake Hollingsworth for a starry walk around the lake.
The lake was perfect. I saw a cute little dock jutting out into the rippling water, and thought it looked like a great place to sit down and ask her about a serious courtship. I led her over to the dock, sat down and swung my feet over the edge, when suddenly, SPLASH! Though I couldn’t see it very well the murky black water was at a very high level, almost up to the edge of the boards. I jumped up, thoughts of alligators jumping into my head. No, no, this dock wouldn’t work. After a few more minutes of walking, we had found the perfect dock. I sat down. She sat down. After a few minutes I turned to her and began the conversation.
“Melissa, I’m strongly attracted to you and I have been thinking a lot about you . . .” You should have seen the smile on her face. Her eyes were practically sparkling. I went on to ask her if a purposeful relationship was something that she was sure about committing to.
She said “Yes.”
So, now we’re together and we’ve been having a lot of fun over the past few weeks getting to know one another, planning our relationship, setting boundaries and working together. We’re even working on a mission statement for our relationship. So far we have: “To exhibit a godly relationship of moral excellence, respect and commitment as we value, enjoy, discover and learn about each other while exploring the possibility of marriage.”
Thank you for keeping us in your prayers Alayna. I wish that you could be down here, along with the rest of the family, getting to know Melissa with me. I really miss all of you. Tell everyone that I said hi. I love you.
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