19 Years Ago...

Today marks 19 years since Dad went home. From this day forth, each day I live will be more than the days I had with him. This milestone bears some reflections.

I had some reflections a few years ago, and they all still ring true. What do those 19 years mean? It means my Dad did not see the fruit of his labor on this side of Heaven. I know he would have preferred us to serve as officers but Brother and I both served as enlisted soldiers in the Army. He did not get to be the proud father to see his sons return from war. The kind of pride a Father has not for the merits of the mission but for the sense of service and duty it proved. The faithfulness to our family ethos carried on from his generation to mine.

He did not get to see his son serve in his church in his own right. I grew up as an usher about as young as I could. It certainly felt a bit off being one of the few students in a suit from the earlier service, but I got to be one of the ushers. The time spent in the count room after offering was invaluable for this young impressionable pre-teen to listen to righteous men chatting about life, faith, and their adventures. Most of whom were older than Dad. It is invaluable to surround our young men with the presence of older men who have endured the challenges of life and remained faithful to their families and faith. I got to serve in our church’s youth ministry for the better part of a decade. I got to pour into students as the men who poured into me.

He did not get to see his son graduate from college. There was a nagging uncertainty. My accomplishments in high school granted me guaranteed admission to a SoCal UC. I never applied to go anywhere. Between my Dad’s health and the state of the home, it was not time for me to leave yet. There certainly were ups and downs, as I would expect every household to have as a boy is trying to figure out what it means to be a man while living at home… like many from my high school and station in life, I went to the local community college. Why? Because that is what one is supposed to do after high school, right? That aimless direction contributed to my notably declined success during my high school days. Knowing how my Dad was always so surprised by my academic achievements from my public school days, those grades would not have been significant to him. It would have only mattered that I was achieving more than he did. Little would either of us have known it would take me more than a decade to finish my Bachelor’s degree. I brushed off my graduation, almost forgetting to attend commencement. Graduating from college separated me from many of my generation. Between our childhood socioeconomic status, the single-parent upbringing, and military service, I was already on a road traveled by few. Who would have thought that road would continue to be “less traveled” as I move from my upbringing to this career in academia? He will not get to see me hooded as I graduate with my Ph.D. this Winter. He will not see the family I will one day have, the generations of students I will get to teach. If my current course evaluations are any indicator, I think I’m on the right track.

He will not get to see the man I have grown to be. For all the bumps and bruises this thing called adulthood has been, Dad left off when the journey barely began. He set out to make us men. It has not been a metric of romantic conquests, the amplitude of gaseous expressions, or the number of houses/cars I have accumulated. No, it has been faithfulness to the upbringing that he committed to that we love God and serve others.

What Is In a Name? The Lake Family

I recently got a message from someone who, the last time I talked to, I had to give the gravest of news. It was a call less than a minute long. I think it was a week or two from when it happened, “Can I talk to Jim?” “I’m sorry, he has passed away. Who is this?” My heart sunk when I heard the name. Dad had been caring for this kid off-and-on for at least a year or two. He was a troubled junior higher when my dad started to come alongside and help his family both through his capacity as a deacon at church, but with this family, this kid, Dad went further than others who helped. They didn’t live close or on the way to church. That didn’t matter. There were problems at home that didn’t matter. There were problems at school, didn’t matter. He knew that going in. Dad devoted himself to helping this family.

This wasn’t particularly new to our family. Over the years, my earliest memories were filled with us moving single moms to new apartments or doing work projects for disabled people seeking help from our church. We had a generous benevolence fund, but the church’s financial support was often coupled with some Lake sweat. It was not uncommon to hear my dad on the phone with this utility or that insurance company working on behalf of someone seeking help at our church. Our family was at the vanguard of the Church’s hands and feet.

I got a message today. I wasn’t expecting it. I have not heard from him since that hard call almost 15 years ago. Shared with permission, of course.

My first thought was the recall of a staff meeting at a youth camp in Slovakia. In the meeting, we were reminded that the fruit of our labor in youth ministry is often never seen, often not manifested for years afterward. I don’t know when you were able to right the path in your life, but I am privileged to have been a part of it, even as an observer. My second thought was the privilege it was to come from a family who has taught such a creed. My family is one of Christians. It is an important part of who we are and what that means. There are many movies and books where a fatherless child must find his way and figure out who he is and who he will become. Dad told us when we were 12; his job was to prepare us to be men. I didn’t know that job would come to a halt days before my 19th birthday, but there was never a question of what it meant to be a Lake man. That was modeled a day in and day out for years. It was not perfect, as none of us are or were perfect, but it was always clear who we were.

I am grateful for those countless hours we spent working in the backyard and around the house. We were taught everything from falling a tree and installing a sidewalk to the proper way to make a grilled cheese sandwich. I am grateful for the work ethic instilled in us at such an early age. We didn’t have money, nice clothes, or grand vacations. We had a family. Thank you for this reminder.

Getting Back Up, Again

This week was one of the best there has been had in recent years. I didn’t embark on any new adventures. I didn’t complete anything that was nagging at me. All in all it was a rather normal week. The changes; listening to scripture on my morning commute and going back to the gym. I used to listen to a talk radio show on the commute but personnel changes following the election appears to have removed the most mentally stimulating hosts. After venturing around itunes looking for a replacement podcast to fill that time slot I was reminded of my priorities, the contrast between what my perception and practice. This is better to explain if I start from the physical approach.

I have been a gym rat for the better part of 20 years now. Minus a few extended periods of healing I have paid as the “experience tax”, my routine has been one of the more stable things in my adulthood. I have my goals, some of which were established in high school that continue to elude. The most eminent motivations though are the harsh memories of being bullied up until fruit from the gym showed on my frame in high school and the constant ailments that eventually lead to dad’s early passing. I know dad’s homegoing was far more than his physical state, but that… that is something I’ll hold closer to the chest. As far as the bullying, an anecdotal observation, bullies are less likely to pick targets who are more muscular than them. I recognize the concern of bullies today is long past relevant, but the confidence one gains and maintains by being a good steward of the body continues.

In 20 years of lifting weights there have been minor injuries all along the way. A strained pectoral here, or a pinched nerve there, I have been more than familiar with long undesired but necessary breaks. These have happened with enough consistency that one or two months of inactivity do not negatively impact performance. After three months, the first week back at the gym will be frustrating, demoralizing, and aggravating. At more than three months, well, it will take at least a month of light workouts to get back to the previous level. This is known as muscle memory, which is a wonderful thing. It could be such that instead of regaining strength within a few months of leaving off, I would have to work back from scratch. This knowledge is both a blessing and a curse. The blessing because I know how temporary this setback will be, the curse because it is still frustrating and humbling to endure every single time I return to the gym to build back up to where I was. There is a certain baseline to reach before I can tune my routine back towards accomplishing my goals.

Last week, I finally got better from a four-months “cold”. The doctor called it “bronchitis” and the antibiotics were incredible, but let us not dwell on the past and technical terms. The best part of the healing process was recognizing I was sick for at least two months more than I needed to be. It was my stubbornness that precluded me from seeking help. Oh the joys of recognizing the fallibility in my physicality as well as my spiritual practice.

At the same time, sadly with far less dedication to my lifting regimen, getting a daily dose of scripture has ebbed and flowed. When it flowed it was grand. I never really maintained awareness how or why I let life’s business get in the way. Certainly there were periods of pride that in order to ensure my practice was authentic manifestations of delight over duty, I would cast away such liturgical structures over my daily routine so as to appear the most authentic. The other prideful exclamation often justified my lack of scripture because maintaining a biblical worldview might be sufficient. You know, think about everything biblically, except the Bible.

I knew I didn’t have a good reason. Is that not the purpose of the Bible app after all? The phone goes everywhere, hence my bible is with me all the time. Even more, the audio bible is on the app too! It really hit me halfway through this week. To really show my faith, I started to listen to the Old Testament. You know, brush up on my biblical history that is a bit rusty. I should be able to distinguish between Elijah and Elisha... What God has shown me in this week, was in the historic descriptive Word, it is still living and active. My place in his kingdom is more clear. The concerns of what each day has before me are less daunting. God is good. This process is far less painful than working back up to a certain level of physical performance. As it should be, the entire basis of the Christian faith isn’t about what we do for God, but what he has already done for us. One of the most basic truths, that I had not paid attention to with the weight I should have. Like getting back into my gym routine, “why did I ever stop?” with the most dumbfounded tone echoes through my head. I am grateful for a loving God who knows me better than I could ever know myself.

Oh, I guess this kind of topped off this week, I got to see Supreme Court Associate Justice Alito this weekend. That was pretty cool too. God cares about the little things too.

P.S. I wrote this a few weeks ago, but not wanting to get on what could have turned into a short lived celebration of a couple weeks, the pattern has held. The gym regime continues, the Word still speaks through the genealogies, and life is great. This has not been a fad. Next time you see me, ask me about what scripture takeaway I had.

Be a Good Soldier: A Valentine’s Day Post

And the crowds asked him, “What then shall we do?” And he answered them, “Whoever has two tunics[b] is to share with him who has none, and whoever has food is to do likewise.” Tax collectors also came to be baptized and said to him, “Teacher, what shall we do?” And he said to them, “Collect no more than you are authorized to do.”Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what shall we do?” And he said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or by false accusation, and be content with your wages.” - Luke 3:10-14 (ESV)

For those of us who have served, this passage has fair literal value as it does general value. On this day of days what comes to mind is the broader message Jesus had to his followers. Do your job and do it well. In the recent weeks I have had several conversation in-real-life as well as digitally concerning the place singles have in the Church, particularly for the post-college pre-marriage stage, perhaps even moreso for those who are *gasp* not even in a relationship. Some of us look to the structures our local churches provide, or don’t. Some of us question the micro-culture of modern evangelicalism if it has a place for singles. According to Pew, the age of marriage among my generation is the oldest it has been in decades, perhaps in modern history. Even with these attainable benchmarks, I still exceed these with a healthy margin. What is one to do?

Allow me to segue to another reoccurring discussion I recently had. I promise to connect the dots. A disgruntled veteran was lamenting the sense of unfulfilled purpose he had, because though he answered the call to war, he did not engage in combat. For those unfamiliar with the indoctrination phase of military training, a fair amount of dehumanization must take place in order to make us comfortable with the concept of taking human life. This ranges from our enthusiastic chants of making the “green grass grow”, to the more calm and concentrated exercises of practicing marksmanship on human silhouettes. This was in response to an important report by Brigadier General SLA Marshall’s study of WWI and Civil War soldiers which he found no more than 15-20% of soldiers in combat fired their weapons at their enemies in battle. There has been much discussion since then, but the point remains, the indoctrination phase of military training focuses on “socializing” us in a foreign culture. The most basic aspect of that culture is to follow lawful orders. This is often summarized that a junior enlisted has only three tasks to accomplish. “Be in the right place, at the right time, in the right uniform.” All else their superiors will instruct them as needed. I take this universal principle and apply it to those service members who have been left with the sense of longing. One of the best portrayals of this attitude in film was from this scene in Jarhead (NSFW Language). My response to the distraught brother-in-arms comes from King David.

Then David came to the two hundred men who had been too exhausted to follow David, and who had been left at the brook Besor. And they went out to meet David and to meet the people who were with him. And when David came near to the people he greeted them. Then all the wicked and worthless fellows among the men who had gone with David said, “Because they did not go with us, we will not give them any of the spoil that we have recovered, except that each man may lead away his wife and children, and depart.” But David said, “You shall not do so, my brothers, with what the Lord has given us. He has preserved us and given into our hand the band that came against us. Who would listen to you in this matter? For as his share is who goes down into the battle, so shall his share be who stays by the baggage. They shall share alike.” And he made it a statute and a rule for Israel from that day forward to this day. - 1 Samuel 30:21-25 (ESV)

If you are unfamiliar with the story begin with verse 1. Anyways, the example provided by David and echoed in the military’s own ethic, our job is to follow orders. Those orders might provide opportunity for valor, but the chances are they won’t. In fact, the vast majority of military service consists of mundane tasks and orders, such that if one ever gets such an opportunity they are outside the norm, even those at war. Even then, to many men of valor, the conditions that provided that opportunity for valor have been frequently described as their worst day ever. Actually, this view appears to be rather common among our nation’s most honored.

I have lived as a soldier and as a single Christian. Through those years some points of isolation were worse than others. As I stand back with a view of God’s great mercies, grace, and love, I am reminded of the simple task we have been asked to do. To pick up our cross and follow him. The simplicity of what it means to b a Christian doesn’t fade, but the depth of those simple instructions only grows with our obedience. In that light, enjoy these Valentine’s Day cards.

Re: Viral Video about Millennials in the Workplace

Re: Viral Video about Millennials in the Workplace

In case you happen to read this, thanks for your patience. This semester was a doozy and I had to step back from pretty much anything not work or school. In the same way one might hypothetically see how many drinks they can handle in order to know “how much is too much” this is how I would describe my course load. This was too much, I didn’t puke, but I know my limit now. Knowing is half the battle, right?

So there is this 15 minute clip floating around that has some interesting insights into the dreaded “Millennials.” I’m not familiar with Mr. Sinek, but he has some good insights and descriptions about this odd group of people. His web pages indicate he’s a pretty smart guy and the video only adds to his intellectual repertoire. In case you haven’t seen the video or you haven’t yet decided to watch it, the skinny is this: he diagnoses the problems employers/corporate America is having with the millennial generation. This is not a particularly new topic, from politicians, business leaders, and missiologists, apparently this generation is a difficult one to pin. In the opening he nails it, millennials want purpose in their work.

I am not one to really counter that, my current path in life is in the pursuit to have the most fulfilling career that suits my passions. In some way, the reason I am doing what I am doing is because I could do no other career path. This is in contrast to the vision that our grandparents generation has been stereotyped to have, in which the goal from a job is to have one, then to get by. This is particularly true of the working class vision of Americana. To offer a movie clip which I would describe this view is from the film Rudy, at the bus stop. His father tries to talk him out of his dream to go to Notre Dame. Yes, I know the true story about Mr. Ruettiger is not as pure, but that’s why movies are “based” on true story. Anyways, the past generations used to be satisfied with a good job that paid on time and afforded one to provide for the needs of their family. Today, my peers, who also are having fewer children and getting married later, want their job for more than a paycheck, they want a purpose from it.

Sinek points this out very well but his remedy I have to disagree. In order for his approach to occur the structure of corporate America must change entirely to meet the needs of this generation who “by no fault of their own” were apparent victims of poor parenting. The poor parenting strategy was summed up as: Parents who did not allow their children to fail, but ensured their success was not through their efforts but from their intervention, this has been termed Helicopter parenting. By this point, the term Millennial is much less than those born in 1984 to 1995. His implicit description are those of middle to upper class with a probable two parent household who are college graduates. Not to take away from his message, but I think we need to be careful when grouping people by generic factors like age, it is overly broad. Sinek thinks it is the responsibility of employers to meet the needs of this generation, this calls for a complete overhaul in the purpose of business at large.

I recognize there are some companies who were founded based on something other than money, there are very few large businesses which find this model sustainable. For a test, see how many annual meetings highlight the immaterial purposes of the company above the bottom line. How many investors are more concerned with the accomplishments of the company than the return? This is that brutal reality check that Millennials are being confronted and lack means to cope. I think it is a mistake to look to one’s career for its primary meaning. That is not to say one should not seek to be fulfilled in their career path, but there should be something else that defines who one is beyond their business card. The ancients would call this virtue. I’ll try to describe this in secular terms.

Virtue is formed by our community. Hopefully and primarily by one's family, but those without the blessing of a mostly stable two-parent household are not permanently disadvantaged. Community consists of those in close proximity and influence. If family does not teach virtue, then hopefully it would be through church, volunteer work, intramural, or some other extracurricular voluntary gathering. My bias thinks church is the best format because all the other gatherings are based on an activity over a shared belief, whereas people can similarly enjoy baseball but have very different views on morality, but if people attend a local church together, they are much more likely to have similar views on morality. Dennis Prager, an author and radio show how, frequently challenges that with the decline of religious belief, there is an inevitable decline in public virtue. He further argues that no other organization teaches values better than religious institutions. I will be more charitable and hope there are institutions with virtuous people who overflow on the people they impact with their virtue, regardless of the purpose of the institution. Virtue ultimately comes from one person and is passed to the next. It is no doubt the best transference of this virtue is by watching another more experienced person pass it down from one to another. The interpersonal aspect of virtue is essential lest the virtues be limited to abstract ideals not grounded in reality.

If nothing else I’ve picked up from the election cycle this year talking to people, I have recognized how much Millennials long for heaven. They long for their image of perfection, this is why they can make castigating claims against others’ nation, race, gender, career, ect. because the standard is not history, but their ideal. It gets worse when Millennials, or the next power group fails to see the mistakes of past idealists imprint from history. We must insist, that when “they” did it, they just didn’t do the right way, but when “we” do it, everyone will be happy and full. One cannot create a new society from scratch, they must acknowledge the previous generations not with their idea of righteous indignation, but with an understanding of reasonableness. I see these longings as the groaning of the effects from sin, the only problem is the idea of sin is not compatible with the vision of many Millennials. If we are to address a problem, the first step is recognizing it exists.

15 Years Ago

One of the difficult things about being joyfully busy is the struggle to have some introspective time of reflection. Today marks 15 years ago when, for a good portion of my generation, our experience in the world changed. Ten years ago I reflected upon the new world under the lens of an active duty soldier stationed overseas. In those conditions it was unmistakeable to myself and those around me, that our lives were certainly different. Tonight I reflect upon how that day of infamy has rippled through this life. Much has happened between these two points of reflection. Although it took longer than I expected, I finally did get to go to war as a soldier. Then as life would have it and providence continued, I would go back to war.

I recall the night we received news about the death of Bin Laden. There was buzz on the classified chat channels that something big happened but we had no idea. My spidey senses convinced the cafeteria staff to change the TV channel to news and I got to witness with everyone else that night the President’s address. It meant something different sitting less than two miles from where that fateful day was planned. Killing the instigator of this new reality did not return us to the world we knew before. That has long since past and cannot be recovered, there is only moving forward.

I have been considering what was so uniquely remarkable about that day. It was not the first time we had been attacked by overseas terrorists in New York. It was not the first time a building was attacked on our soil in our memory. It was far from the first time we had been attacked by people of Islamist ideology. It was the largest coordinated attack with the most devastating results in our history. I have not talked to someone who lived through the attack on Pearl Harbor to describe what the effect was. That was a deliberate act of war by a uniformed nation. This was a cowardly hijacking using civilian aircraft to destroy civilian and military targets.

We experienced this. Many of us watched on live television as the second plane struck the North Tower. Even more of us watched as the two towers collapsed. For weeks those images were replayed countless times on television. We rallied around the flag proclaiming in earnest, “We Will Not Forget!” We invaded Afghanistan and on the coattails of “Never Again” we invaded Iraq. We had to be proactive about this threat we mistakenly thought to be malignant. We struck back and exerted the full force of the United States of America on anyone who dared to threaten us again. Such force had not been displayed in the world’s view since we landed on the beaches of Normandy and dropped the world’s most terrible weapons many decades ago.

15 years of war later, the resolve we began that had such a powerful undertaking has been… strained to say the least. We will have to come to terms that Afghanistan will incorporate the Taliban in their government if they are to ever stop fighting. We have been almost idly sat and watched as ISIS has ripped through Iraq and Syria proudly displaying to the world the fruit of their ideology. For many of us we must be cautious where we utter “radical Islamic terror” so as to not offend people who cannot tell the difference between religious ideologies. We have watched domestic turmoil divide us by political party, race, education, economic status, religion, even patriotism. We find ourselves in a nation full of people longing for heaven on earth who lash out at others in numerous fashions because it is not. We cannot even agree on our own identity let alone who we are as a nation. Who should we be? We used to be a nation that sought “to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity”. But those are words from old white men who were unenlightened and guilty of some of the most grievous sins of the 21st century in their antiquated 18th century ways and thoughts. Or at least that is how the Founding documents are often treated if given some mind at all.  

I cannot help but think back to littlun Percival Wemys Madison. At the beginning of the story he knew his name and address. Repeating such were his refuge and comfort in considerably traumatic times, by the conclusion of the book, he forgot everything, even his own name. This is not to say our reactions to the attack were acts of innocence and our disenfranchisement of those ventures has been our maturing. We certainly started those wars with the passionate fervor of justice. The hope was that such acts were to fulfill the duty of our government to protect ourselves. Even this understanding is under considerable scrutiny.  I fear if we do not remember who we were, first as people, then as a nation, what was lost those 15 years ago will only be a shadow of forgotten memories.

Adventures in Security: 0 Days Without an Incident

My streak is over. I have been working security at a nearby ritzy venue for almost a year. Over the course of that time, I have somewhat proudly noted that every real fight or altercation we have encountered I have been absent. I would insinuate my particular demeanor was more comforting and successful to de-escalate situations instead of allowing disagreements to turn to fights. It is worth mentioning the pedigree of the venue is far from the typical dive bar. We are not some ragtag tight polo shirt wearing element. We are in suits minus the tie, if you can peg a man by his dress then we are certainly a professional team. A rough approximation would say there are only events which require our intervention once a month. A typical night is filled with checking IDs, assisting bussers with broken glasses, and clearing the venue at closing time. As with most security, our primary purpose is fulfilled in our mere presence. I should probably note that of the three nights a week which our security team is present, I usually only work one of those.

Although I have an older brother, throughout our childhood we never really fought. Dad ensured no such hijinks would be permitted and it worked. We were never taught to back down from any hostile acts but nor were we taught to go looking for trouble. Because my investigation in Complementarian theology followed my service in the Army, I am not inclined to think the “protective desire” was something from my theological convictions. I do not know. We can chalk it up as a social construct which much of my generation has embraced.

Anyways, Saturday night was a learning experience. Not only did I get to assist with an escort following an altercation, as that one was settling I was the lead guard who broke up another fight. Adrenaline flowing in all, the true question of fight or flight was answered in the heat of the moment. It should be noted, that we do not fight patrons… well, I do not fight patrons. When two people are not playing nice with each other, the best resolution is to separate them. It is not worth the time or effort to figure out who was in the right or wrong until the altercation is ceased. We ascertain the details and responsibilities of the event following a successful ceasing of the fight itself. My job is to get between two people fighting and separate them. Not only was that night a first, which I finally got to be the first person on scene, it was the first time I was really punched in the face. I am quite certain had it not been for a broken nose my junior year of highschool, I would certainly have bled after that strike, thanks for that Dave :D.

Once the sting of the facial numbness streaked across my face and the fight was stopped I almost instantly thought about a quote from Muhammad Ali a friend has often quoted to me. “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.” Of course, my friend has always used that phrase more for its metaphorical purpose, but this weekend it was rather literal. Until one is presented with an actual situation where tempers are flaring, danger and fear were present, we can only hope to do the right thing given sufficient mental preparation and/or physical training. Due to my lack of direct experience, I have not had much opportunity to hone my hand-to-hand combat skills. I can generally use my size and strength enough to mitigate my lack of technique, but even then, until this weekend all such mental simulations remained only in theory.

Now I know. I can take a real hit to the face. Aside from the crash against my skull, and slight numbness, I did not falter. I continued pulling the patrons off of one another and once the two were separated the altercation was finished. In the aftermath I was reminded of the temperament of my colleagues. The would undoubtedly disagree with my findings in Babysitting and Bouncing.

I was also able to take a few minutes to reflect upon the numerous types of security I have been involved. From time as a soldier, to a summer camp security guard, to a bouncer. Each capacity has honed the desire to protect into an ability to do so. I am also reminded of the repeated instruction in Army Combatives training. Our instructors repeatedly stated “We are only teaching you just enough to get your ___ beat.” It was a rather simple block of instruction but they were certain that we did not act too empowered by our basic combative skills test. If I recall right, on one of my sparring opportunities I dived head-first into a guillotine choke hold. Oh the joys of youth and vigor.

I returned from Hume on Friday, after a two-week visit. I truly love Hume and the people up there. This summer is far different from how I imagined it even two months before. It has required a type of waiting that has not been required since my exit from the Army. I had no idea what I would be doing this summer as it began and as the weeks passed hopes were dashed and opportunities unveiled. These revelations remind and reassure me that I am supposed to be exactly where I am. God has been guiding these steps far longer than I have been aware enough to recognize their destination. My adventures for this summer are far from over. Although the desired accomplishments are somewhat lacking, the thankfulness for being about to return to Hume, more than statisfy.

It is Summer

If there was any question about my personality type, I am an extrovert. Today was a great day. Although this is the first stage of summer mode, I am working on waking up at a reasonable hour to be productive. I have a few short essays to write this week for a take home final and throughout the summer I have books to read, research to do, papers to revise, and I’m stewing over another paper to write from scratch. In case you didn’t know, unlike public school teachers who get a fair portion of their summer off for leisure, amongst professors, summer is prime research and writing time. As I continue to aspire for such a role, it would be wise to ease into that pattern.

So yes, today was great. I got some work done. My alumnus is in close proximity and they have an unbeatable gym rate, so I have a place to exercise this summer. There is a new All-You-Can-Eat Sushi place that a friend and I tried. It is a winner. The price was reasonable, the selection sufficient, the fish was good, better than my previous AYCE sushi place down here and the distance was not bad. I still favor Korean BBQ as my number one social food, who doesn’t like BBQ after all. There might even be a time-lapse of one of my many KBBQ excursions on my facebook. It is not my video otherwise I would be a proper chap and link it here. I cannot recall the last time I have had such a food coma. I figured all the rice from the nigiri would take its toll. When I got home I lounged on the couch and according to the reports of the family, I was sound asleep for about an hour. In proper summer fashion, I later relocated to my bed for a couple more hours. Hence it is 1am and I writing this.

I love family dinners. I am going on my third year renting from a family which our meeting was unquestionably providential. At least three nights a week I am able to join them in family dinner. Between their company, wise counsel, and constant pursuit for Christ and his blessings, I cannot recall a more spiritually healthy living environment I have had. There are moments when I long that my own childhood was closer to that of the one the kids in the family are receiving, but we each have our own path. I should refer to the last blog that one ought not be envious of others joys but celebrate with them. There are no words that have the potential to properly express my gratefulness to be apart of this family.

After dinner and conversation I made my way to the gym. Whenever my schedule changes, it is always a challenge to establish a new schedule. For this last school year I would use the gym at Claremont McKenna, it is one of the best facilities I have been to in the US. It is also adjacent to the ROTC office and there is a bit of nostalgia to see the cadre around and the recruits shaping up to be the next generation of military leaders. I was blessed enough to finish my workout before I saw some undergrad friends I usually only see on Sunday. Between the military jokes with a marine veteran and the other an aspiring Army chaplain and the real talks we share, I value these friendships. Also, a gym is a great place for men to bond. I think such a venue is inferior only to a shooting range, camping trip, or BBQ. It might be of the same level as a football field.

On one hand I think back and the day was not as productive as I aimed... Then again, I did finish one of my essays tonight, so really the objective was completed. Between today and the recent Sundays which I have been able to join friends at lunch and the movies, I have missed the freedom of a social life. I am still trying to comprehend what this summer in Southern California will look like. Every memory I have of a summer in the last four years has been in the middle of Sequoia National Forest for the majority of the summer. Hume’s constant presence in my life has been a blessing. It has not been easy to recognize the passing of that season. I still hold on to hope that I might return for more than an incidental road trip or visit.

Summer is here. I look forward to the adventures and lessons that will be learned during this break from coursework.

Providence Verified pt. IV - Going Back to War

As 2009 carried on and God’s providence was so clearly evident, I started looking for God’s active hand, or quiet whisper as life carried on. In that year, I became a civilian again, worked at Hume Lake, and got a real job. Most of it was made possible by powers not in my control, yet I was the beneficiary of those events coming together. I spent a year working at the site. It was a great time of hanging out with Dave again, getting to see my field from a civilian perspective and being surrounded by veterans and active duty personnel.

The prime reason I moved back home, I was able to continue on in Youth Ministry as volunteer staff. It was different as a full class of students had gone through with little contact to me. There was a clear reward to see students whom I mentored as Freshmen in high school were then the college Freshmen leading new high school students. The cycle of ministry was fulfilled.

The first months in the new job were promising. Flexible schedules, great leadership, fantastic salary, I thought I had won the life lottery. I could finally get on with life, instead of going off into foreign lands for extended periods of time. When I returned to Hume, I figured it was a last hurrah and I had to grow up with my professional job and stop longing for the college days. Funny, I never got the college experience… When I was in community college I was working two part time jobs and trying to figure out how to adult. I don’t think I was very good at it.

I was able to return to Hume the following summer. It was only a week, as a counselor with my guys. As a nice reminder of the little things, for my five summers as a high school camper at Hume, I sought the Recreation (Rec) Championship. I know I took it too far, my graduate summer was especially difficult. We had a stacked team and were contenders. That summer we lost by a 25-point margin in the scale of tens of thousands of points. Summer 2010 was about the ministry, to keep that focus clear, I had the freshmen cabin. All bets were off. Isn’t that usually when God makes his hand known the most? There was a slight edge, my lifeguard experience provided me with strategy on how to do well at Rec. Although my cabin was Freshmen, the other guy cabin we were partnered with were graduating seniors, they had come to win! And win we did. It is rare that a team who takes first place, is the team who leaves with the championship. There are a number of make-or-break moments throughout the week. Yet we prevailed. The whole week, every ounce of me wanted to be with my students cheering for victory, but as a leader, it was my duty to encourage good sportsmanship and focus on the eternal, not a T-shirt. Was that a lesson about the desires of our heart? Something about seek first his kingdom? Oh to reminisce, those were such good years...

When I returned to Hume, I saw many friends from the previous summer, including Charlie. He mentioned I should visit again during the summer, I told him I would consider it. When 4th of July rolled around I was able to get a long weekend. One thing from my experiences overseas, I’m not a fan of explosions beyond a certain magnitude. It isn’t the sound or the sight, but if you are close enough to the blast, you can sometimes feel the concussion of air that moves through your whole body. You can feel it down to your bones. It doesn’t bother me, but I just don’t like the feeling. Hume goes all out for 4th of July like many the classic small towns across the nation. I spent the weekend with some friends at Hume and ended up working Security for a bit. By working I really meant, hanging out with Charlie for several hours to direct buses. It would have been so great to work for him, but alas that season had passed…

I mentioned when I got hired at my new job, I was one of many new additions to the site. By the following fall and through numerous growing pains we were informed a significant portion of the team were going to be laid off. The terms of the contract and funding changed, that is the life as a contractor. By the time that news was delivered I was already looking for different opportunities. To accommodate the increase in personnel, our site mirrored closer to our active duty counterparts who maintained 24/7 support. In order to keep up with that schedule and ensure people were not getting stuck with the preferred shifts, there was a regular shift rotation setup. The impending change would have prevented both my continued involvement at church and prevented me from taking any classes to finish my degree.

I did not yet have a plan, but seeing the evolution of the site, I put in my two weeks. I returned home to be with my church, that was the first priority. This was convenient for my leadership as they did not have to release someone who was not looking for an exit, especially those coworkers who had families. In that kind of job, in that location, there was no other place one could work in that part of the state. That was the deal. After a heavy bit of praying, I concluded I need to change my career field altogether. At best I would eventually have to move to the East Coast, at worst I would remain on a constantly rotating schedule that I would be bound to.

I did a little bit of searching and before my two weeks hit, I was hired by another division within the company. I was going to Afghanistan. My new division was based out of Ohio, but being a deployed position, I was free to move wherever (or not) I chose. In the month long whirlwind of resigning from my old position, training that took me to Ohio, Virginia, and Washington D.C., I also managed to move to Texas. After the moving expenses and the rent overhead, I still saved substantial money by moving to Texas. Becoming a Texas resident also provided advantages that Californians cannot join.

I spent 14 months in Kandahar, Afghanistan. This was the hardest season of my life. It wasn’t the mediocre food (compared to Iraq, it was a serious downer), the weekly rocket attacks, or the 80-hour work weeks. It was there that I tangibly learned the essential need for fellowship the Christian has. It was there that the notion one can have of living their faith in isolation without any form of fellowship was utter nonsense. But, God is and was sovereign and he carried me through it all.