My Worship Revolution

Silent Seasons Of The Soul/Blog

It's been pretty slow going on my blog here for quite some time.
I could blame it on the microblogging format of Twitter and Facebook as some others have.
And that would actually be fairly accurate.

But that's not it.
I think we just go through different seasons in our life.
And rather than taking a lot of time to blog recently, it's just been more of a season for silence.
A time for listening.
Reflecting.
Seeking.
Hangin out more with Jesus and with family.
In a way, this blog is like an extension of me.  So when I'm in that season, my blog kind follows suit.

And it's not that there's nothing to say, either.
There have been some blog posts bouncing around my dome, but just haven't taken the time to pull em out.
All that to say, that's why it's been slow.
So I'll probably start posting some more here and there.
But it's been nice being quieter for a little bit.
And it's nice to not feel too pressured to blog for the sake of blogging.

Thanks for stickin with me.

Goin On A Bear Hunt

My family was gone for a little over a week.
Last night they got back home.
They pulled into the driveway at 11pm.
I walked out to help with the kids.
As soon as I walk out I hear Caleb yell, "Daddy, daddy, daddy!!"

I walked around to this side of the van, and I kid you not, he literally leaped out of the car and into my arms.
Then he just laid there with his head on my shoulder as I brought him inside.
And he says as he's hugging my neck tight, "I missed you daddy. Did you miss me when I was at Patience's house?" (They visited Rachel's best friend while they were gone.)

There is nothing that warms a dad's heart more.
I am so stoked to have my wife and boys back in town.
So after a week of taking care of them, Rachel got to stay in bed while I got up with them this morning.
Caleb came over and started singing "We're Going On A Bear Hunt" at one point.  A song from a book he and mom got at the library, and I think used at Creative Play.
Seriously, the only thing significant about this is that he's just really cute.
So for those who care, check out the video:

I love the way he says, "Thick, oozy, mud" at 1:43.
The hands on his mouth for the tiptoe at 3:15.
Oh, and the face he always makes when he's trying to think of something, like at 3:30 and 4:22, it cracks me up every time.

The bachelor week had some fun, but I'm just glad to be daddy again.

Counting The Followers

Last week I was reading the most recent issue of Relevant magazine.  In the front is an article by the publisher/founder, Cameron Strang, called Embracing the Real.  In it, he talks about Twitter and Facebook and their cultural effects. 

As I was reading, I came across the following lines:

But little by little, Twitter is starting to resemble a high school popularity contest, where people campaign for votes and can tangibly see how liked they are by how many people follow them or respond to what they say.

As more celebrities and important people have come to the party (fashionably late, of course), they see their peers already have tons of followers, so they feel they should too. There is open campaigning to “RT this” or straight-up asking for people to help them get more followers. Left and right, even normal users are signing up for Twitter sites that guarantee to get you “400 new followers a day.” (Just so you know, you can’t do this without people knowing—it sends out a tweet in your name to everyone saying you’ve signed up.) I’ve even seen pastors sign up for those.

Which begs the obvious question—why? This Twitter shift is adding fuel to the MySpace/Facebook culture that places value (and for some, a means of self-worth) in the number of followers you can accumulate, even if 90 percent of them are incognito spambots.
[read the whole article]

Some really great points there.  I'm just not sure that it's all that different from culture before all this technology was introduced.

He mentioned that pastors he knows have signed up for services to up the number of followers they have.
He talked about the culture of placing value and self-worth in the number of followers you can accumulate.
But is this really any different from how pastors and churches have operated for the past 50 (at least...probably more like hundreds of) years?  

So many pastors I know find their self-worth in the numbers.
How many people I can get to show up on Sunday.
How many people attend an event.
How much money was in the offering plate this month.
Even if the people sitting in those seats are proverbial "incognito spambots."
And I've been just as guilty as the rest.

Perhaps this is just a greater reminder that there are much better ways to measure effectiveness than the "number of followers."
Perhaps we should look at the deeper issue of where we find our self-worth.
Perhaps social networking and technology isn't creating new problems, but simply surfacing the issues that already there.

Let's try and care less about how many people are following us.
Let's care more about the quality of what we're doing and saying.
Let's care more about the amount of transformation in ourselves and the people we journey with.
Let's find our self worth not in everyone else's measure of success, but by the trueness to our own calling.
Or better yet, in being, rather than doing.

I'm still figuring out how to do all that.
You're invited to join me.
We can't do it alone.

Be A Doorkeeper

Read this poem Samuel Moor Shoemaker this morning.
Well worth the read.
Bolded the part that stood out to me the most.

I Stand By The Door

I stand by the door.
I neither go to far in, nor stay to far out.
The door is the most important door in the world -
It is the door through which men walk when they find God.
There is no use my going way inside and staying there,
When so many are still outside and they, as much as I,
Crave to know where the door is.
And all that so many ever find
Is only the wall where the door ought to be.
They creep along the wall like blind men,
With outstretched, groping hands,
Feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door,
Yet they never find it.
So I stand by the door.

The most tremendous thing in the world
Is for men to find that door - the door to God.
The most important thing that any man can do
Is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands
And put it on the latch - the latch that only clicks
And opens to the man's own touch.

Men die outside the door, as starving beggars die
On cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter.
Die for want of what is within their grasp.
They live on the other side of it - live because they have not found it.

Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it,
And open it, and walk in, and find Him.
So I stand by the door.

Go in great saints; go all the way in -
Go way down into the cavernous cellars,
And way up into the spacious attics.
It is a vast, roomy house, this house where God is.
Go into the deepest of hidden casements,
Of withdrawal, of silence, of sainthood.
Some must inhabit those inner rooms
And know the depths and heights of God,
And call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.
Sometimes I take a deeper look in.
Sometimes venture in a little farther,
But my place seems closer to the opening.
So I stand by the door.

There is another reason why I stand there.
Some people get part way in and become afraid
Lest God and the zeal of His house devour them;
For God is so very great and asks all of us.
And these people feel a cosmic claustrophobia
And want to get out. 'Let me out!' they cry.
And the people way inside only terrify them more.
Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they are spoiled.
For the old life, they have seen too much:
One taste of God and nothing but God will do any more.
Somebody must be watching for the frightened
Who seek to sneak out just where they came in,
To tell them how much better it is inside.
The people too far in do not see how near these are
To leaving - preoccupied with the wonder of it all.
Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door
But would like to run away. So for them too,
I stand by the door.

I admire the people who go way in.
But I wish they would not forget how it was
Before they got in. Then they would be able to help
The people who have not yet even found the door.
Or the people who want to run away again from God.
You can go in too deeply and stay in too long
And forget the people outside the door.
As for me, I shall take my old accustomed place,
Near enough to God to hear Him and know He is there,
But not so far from men as not to hear them,
And remember they are there too.

Where? Outside the door -
Thousands of them. Millions of them.
But - more important for me -
One of them, two of them, ten of them.
Whose hands I am intended to put on the latch.
So I shall stand by the door and wait
For those who seek it.

'I had rather be a door-keeper
So I stand by the door.

Wow.
I think we need more door-keepers.

I Am Broken

A few nights ago, Rachel and I watched the season premier of House.
I love this show.
Great writing and the show is always such an amazing study on our human condition.

Check out this clip from the premier.
The last line of the clip was the most memorable of the episode for me.
Seriously, check it out.

You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it;
       you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.

 The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
       a broken and contrite heart,
       O God, you will not despise.
Psalm 51:16-17

"I am broken"
When we recognize that we are broken, that's when we get out of the way and really allow God to do his job.

We're all jacked up.  I'm as broken, if not more, than the next guy.
But the truth is, I very often have trouble remembering that.
My pride gets in the way and I think that I can "fix" myself, if I even admit that I need fixing in the first place.

Too often, I think we 'do justice' out of an attitude that we are better than those we are serving.
People can see right through that.
We need to recognize...I need to recognize...that I am broken too.  Just as broken as those we typically think of as 'really jacked up.'  Mine just reveals itself sometimes in more culturally acceptable expressions.

The worst part about brokeness...
Often the only way to discover it is to hit a place of such desperation that all we have left is a clear and obvious picture of how jacked up we are.
That scares me.
I don't want to be there.
But I know I will be better for it.

So whether you're in that place, or in between those points, because they will come, be reminded that you are broken.
Approach others with that spirit.
Approach God with that spirit.
That is the heart that expresses the worship God desires.

I am broken.
How about you?

Sloppy Wet Kiss Revisited

Awhile back I wrote this post about the song How He Loves Loves Us and David Crowder's change ot the Sloppy Wet Kiss line.

Well, I'm a little behind since this came out a couple weeks ago, but I just came across a post from the original song writer, John Mark McMillan about the lyric change and his own thoughts on it.

I highly recommend checking it out. 
I also appreciate that he shares his own heart in what was behind the lyric in the first place.
Here's a couple of excerpts from what he had to say:

"The idea behind the lyric is that the kingdom of heaven and the kingdom of earth converge in a way that is both beautiful and awkwardly messy. Think about the birth of a child, or even the death of Jesus himself. These miracles are both incredibly beautiful and incredibly sloppy ("gory" may be more realistic, but “Heaven meets earth like a gory mess” didn’t seem to have the same ring). Why does the church have such a problem with things being sloppy? Do we really think we’re fooling anyone on Sunday morning, especially God?"

"I applaud David for changing the line to serve his people, and at the same time I boo the machinery that would cause him to have to do so."

Love the lyric.
Love his thoughts.
Love his heart.

For those who know the song and sing it at a church, just curious, does his explanation of the lyric help any of those who don't care for the lyric in corporate worship sing it?
Or is it still too much of a leap for ya?

The Changing Faces Of Caleb

Today, my first son turns 3 years old.  Kinda crazy that we seriously have a little man running around the house.
Having Micah around has been a big reminder for me of how much they change so quickly, and you don't even realize it being around them everyday.

So in honor of Caleb's birthday, here's a quick video showing Caleb and the changes over the first 3 years of his life.
Happy birthday kiddo!
I love you tons and can't possibly imagine life again without you.

Oh, and of course, there are also some things that never change...

That pic is from August of 2007.
We'll be working on that now that he's 3.

Pedaling Down SoCal

Day 6

Santa Barbara to Malibu
74 miles. Average speed: 14.3 mph

Mapped Route

So a half day of biking did me more good than I realized.  My legs felt a whole lot better the next day!  Apparently I missed the memo and some of the group left a bit earlier than I expected, so I left with a later group.  The morning for this ride was great!  My legs felt fresh, the terrain really wasn't all that tough, and it was just a fun morning cruisin the coast.  Really not a whole lot to say except that it was a fun morning riding with a few new friends, Robert and Paul.  May have pushed a little too much in the morning though, cause I felt it the next day.

We stopped for lunch and enjoyed some brats.  We ate at a picnic area in a park and all got there pretty early.  This was the last time we would all be together, so we took some time where Yvette, who pretty much runs the ride thanked everybody one by one with some fun little gifts from the dollar store.  We also talked about the route for the afternoon and the next day, and then were surprise bombed with water balloons by the SAG crew at the end of the lunch.

As we all head out from lunch, I decided to head out as quick as possible.  I figured if I could start out at the front of the pack, I wouldn't end up at the back by the time we got to Malibu.  The second half of this day wasn't quite as simple.  As we rounded the coast on highway 1 toward Point Magoo there was a fierce headwind to fight against.  After a while of pushing against it, I decided to slow down a bit and just enjoy the ride.  After a while, a few friends, Derek and Greg, came up on me.  They invited me to join them as we took turns drafting and leading.  I hung with them for a little bit, but before too long, I could tell I was pushing pretty hard to stay on their wheel, so I decided to drop off and told em to have fun.

The rest of the ride was beautiful, and was definitely different riding into Malibu.  You could definitely tell we were in Southern California beach town territory now.  Riding by cars on the beach and what not.  Several small but definitely noticeable hills as we rode through Malibu and up to Pepperdine where we ended the ride at Malibu Bluffs Park.  I ended up riding in around #10ish of the 18 or so riders that day, so my leaving up front idea worked out pretty well.  With the exception of the really fast guys on the trip who pretty much bombed through every day, a lot of the riders kinda chose different paces on certain days.  On some days there were guys who smoked me who perhaps came in behind me other days cause they decided to kick back more on that one.  It was nice to enjoy the rides and kinda decide how hard to push based on how you were feeling and what not.

Gave me some time to change my clothes, have drink, and cheer the last several riders in for the day.  From there we stayed in Malibu for dinner, which we arrived at around 4pm.  They've struggled to safely get everyone though L.A. in the past, so now they shuttle from Malibu down to Dana Point to finish off the ride.  But that drive on a Friday afternoon is insane traffic wise.  So we ate at a restaurant on the beach in Malibu, enjoying the outdoor patio, and I finally saw Rachel again at about 8:30 that night when we arrived at Marina Inn in Dana Point.

Day 7

Dana Point to San Diego...the finish line!!!
74.9 miles. Average speed: 13.9 mph


Mapped Route

This turned out to be a bit of a rough day for me.  I think most everyone had "that day" and this was pretty much mine.  Factor in that it is the last day and my legs were pretty much toast along with some other challenges thrown it, and it was a long one for me.

The plan was to ride the full 70+ miles without a lunch stop, leaving early that morning because we were scheduled to arrive at the San Diego chapters annual picnic between 1:30 and 2.  So we all ride to a sports bar called McGregor's near the stadium to have some drinks and food and regroup so we could all ride in together.

So, I left probably around 6:30 if I remember correctly, with 4 or 5 other riders toward the back of the crew, with only one or two small groups to leave behind us.  Right off the bat we missed a right turn that wasn't very well marked, and ended up about half a mile off route.  We slowly figured out how to get back to highway one, and were now in the back for sure.  We rode for a bit, and then hit an area where we follow bike route signs through a bunch of back streets.  Jim and Derek came up from behind and started riding with us for a bit, too.  As we passed a park, I saw a restroom, and let's just say my stomach was not agreeing with me that morning, so I decided to make a quick pit stop.  Virgil saw me stopping and offered to wait, but I told him to go on ahead and I'd catch up.

Well, I hit the road, and followed the signs, but managed to miss a final turn somewhere and now I was way lost.  Tried using my phone to figure it out, had issues with that, started moving the direction made sense figuring if I kept the ocean on the right I'd eventually get on track, stopped again not wanting to go under the highway, and then finally asked another biker I saw if he knew how to get to the bike path through San Onofre.  He was heading that direction and I was now back on the route card and good to go.  As I was riding through San Onofre beach camping areas I ran into the crew I started with stopped at a bathroom, and rejoined em here.

So we kept on rollin.  Ultimately, I could tell I was moving a little slower today, but I could not get my legs to push much faster, and we were mostly moving at the same pace anyway, so it was all good.  We hit the gate to Camp Pendleton, where we stopped for some nutrition at a SAG truck before showing our ID to go through the base.  Keep in mind this was a Saturday morning so the roads were packed with riders.  We left so early that it was still pretty early, but I could already feel the heat setting in.  I had no idea at this point just how warm it would get.

Two things about Pendleton.  First, at one point I actually found it quite moving.  We're riding through the Marine base, and on the fence I see a couple signs welcoming home troops.  I saw one large sign from a daughter, basically saying, "Daddy, look how much I've grown while you were gone!"  Very moving and made me very thankful for these families and the sacrifice they make.

The second isn't so much about the base, but my luck.  I made the mistake the night before at dinner of hexing myself by saying I hadn't had a flat and was hoping to get through all 500ish miles without a single flat.  So you guessed it.  Flat tire to slow me down!  I had my tube and a CO2 cartridge, so I was able to change it out fairly quickly.  I found a thorn I had picked up in my tire causing the flat, so I got rid of that, and we were back on the move again.

The rest of the morning was just hammering out miles and enjoying some time chatting with Virgil as every hill we hit in his words, "sucked out a piece of his soul."  There was one final, fairly lengthy climb when we hit Torrey Pines in San Diego.  Luckily I was mentally ready for it, and it's about a mile and not too horribly steep, so it was slow going and some work for sure, but not horrible at all.  From there the rest of the ride was just difficult cause it was stinking warm, and getting warmer.  Toward the end I stopped a few times to fill my bottles with ice and within 10 minutes it was already melted and warm again.  I found out later that the high where we rode into at 1:30 in the afternoon was 104 degrees!  At one point as I was driving down Kearny Villa Rd with the hot asphalt radiating up into my face, I swear the breeze felt like someone had turned on a hair dryer.

Well, we rode through the parking lot at the Q (will always be the Murph to me) and finally were the last 3 or so to arrive at McGregor's, and I was so happy to be done!  Hung there for about 20 minutes before we all saddled up to ride into Admiral Baker Park together.  The idea was for the aid vehicles to go ahead and to prepare everyone for us to come in.  Communication must have broken down some where and we made a short climb ti the descent into the park.  I rode toward the front and joked that I was gonna tell my fam that they placed us in order of where we placed by average throughout the week.  As we rolled down into the park, we saw that no one was there to greet us, and as we got there they started walking over from the food area about 500-600 yards away, as if we had caught them by surprise, which we pretty much did.  Kinda anti-climactic, but it was awesome to be at the end nonetheless.  We posed for some pics as a group and then, I was greeted by my wife and kids, mom, and sister's fam.  Rachel and Caleb had bought a dollar store trophy and some finisher medals for me, along with some Sourpatch Kids as a congratulations on finishing.

And there ya have it.  Here are a few pics from the picnic, and I'll try to get up another post with a reflection or two before the blog gets back to normal.  Thanks for following the journey!

 

Recovery Day

Day 5

Lompoc to Santa Barbara
31.8 miles.  Average speed: 13.7 mph.

Mapped Route

Yup.  This was our recovery day.  On a ride this long, 32 miles is considered recovery.  Because we'd be riding a lot shorter than most days, and we couldn't check in til 2, we took the opportunity for a later morning and didn't plan to leave till around 10.  The ride would actually be from Lompoc down to El Capitan and then we would all jump in cars to head into Santa Barbara to the hotel.

We started by taking advantage of the free breakfast at the hotel.  And I aint talkin about continental breakfast.  This was breakfast made to order.  Omelet, grits, bacon toast.  Seriously, this hotel was sweet.

Just a bit before we were supposed to leave, I swung my bike over to Steve to make some adjustments so that my chain wouldn't keep falling off.  He and I both thought it would be a simple fix, so I ran to the hotel room real quick to grab the helmet I forgot.  When I get back, they look at me and tell me I have some major problems.  Apparently my whole bottom bracket was super loose.  Too much longer and my bike probably would have just stopped working in the middle of riding.  So he pulled the whole thing apart, lubed stuff up, and tightened everything up so I'd be good to go.  So grateful!

One of the guys, Greg, waited around for me, so the two of us got a late start.  Now, here was what I had heard about this day.  Easy day, mostly downhill.  What I remember hearing was a short climb to get out of town and then downhill the rest of the way.  Maybe I inserted the word short on my own, cause I really didn't expect the first 17 miles to be uphill!  And it was stinking hot that day, too.  So I was not feelin the "recovery" for a while there.

Once we finally got over the hill, it was a really nice downhill though!  It wasn't all downhill from there, but mostly just small rolling hills all the way into the ending spot, just north of El Capitan cause the RV got kicked out of there.

My legs were still hurting quite a bit from the past 4 days, so at 1pm I was really happy to have the rest of the day off.  So Rachel met us at the stopping point and it was off to Fess Parker Double Tree resort!  This is a really nice place that the ride gets great deals on.  Here was the view from our room in my makeshift panoramic shot:

Caleb enjoyed lounging around and watching some TV when we got there.

We all hung out and lounged at the pool a bit, and then walked down to the wharf to have dinner as a family.

 

Great day to relax, give the legs a little break, and spend some time with the fam.

Quick pet peeve.  Why is it that the expensive hotels are the ones that charge you for internet and everything else for that matter?  There was a comp cpu for internet in the lobby, with really slow internet.  I went down before bed and wrote the day 3 post, and when I went to publish, the internet stopped working and I lost everything.  I was super ticked, but took that as a sign from God that it was time to go to sleep and get some rest before heading into the last 2 days of riding.

Century Day

Day 4

San Simeon to Lompoc
98.5 miles. Average speed: 14.5 mph.

Mapped Route

It's now been a full week since this day.  It's getting harder to remember, so I better catch up on all these posts soon!  And I do not understand at all how the elevation diagram works on Map My Ride.  But that's a different story.  Here we go.

Another good title for this post could have been, "The day it really began to hurt."  Leaving from San Simeon that morning, around 7:45 or 8, it was super foggy and cold out.  Each day we went out in 2 or 3 groups.  The slowest group would go first, followed a bit later by the faster group(s) so that by lunch we'd all be around the same place.  Being that it wasn't really a race, I found at times it was nice to be one of the faster in the slow group and relax a little bit more at times.  This morning, however, I left with a middle group cause there was no way I was leaving at like 7 am.

I was wearing leg warmers, arm warmers, and some Oakley's lent to me by Dan especially for foggy conditions.  I ended up having to take em off cause it was so foggy out that they just kept getting soaked and I couldn't see a thing!  It didn't take too long to get out of the fog though, maybe 45 minutes, and we were keeping a comfortable but steady pace for quite a while, maybe around 16-18 mph.  I felt pretty good when we left, but after a bit I started to recognize that all that climbing the day before took more out of me than I had realized.  My legs were starting to feel all that riding and I fell behind a bit a few times, but had a few guys hangin back with me as well.

We eventually ended up in Pismo Beach for lunch and my legs were kinda toast by then.  Lunch was on our own in Pismo, so I left the group and had sandwiches on the beach with Rachel and the kids.  Rachel said to me, "You don't seem in quite as good of spirits as the last couple of days."  Yeah.  I hurt.  I didn't wanna take too long for lunch, knowing that I still had another 50 miles and our longest day ahead of me still.  It was a pretty foggy morning as we ate and I pushed Caleb on swings at the beach, but toward the end of lunch it cleared up, and I rolled out.

I checked out at our check out point in Oceano and I was the last of the "fast" group to leave, and the first group to leave that morning was still doing lunch.  I was about 15 minutes behind them, so I grabbed some Clif bars and Shot Blocs, refilled the water and Gatorade, and I was out!

It was a nice ride through Guadalupe where I kinda wished we had stopped for lunch because the Mexican food smelled amazing.  Just after Guadalupe I joined back up with highway 1 and there is a 8-10 mile stretch with virtually no shoulder and lots of big rigs.  So I tried to book it through this section.  While there, I managed to throw my chain for the fourth time that day.  So i knew I'd need to have Steve (our rocking SAG bike mechanic) take a look at my derailers and adjust em for me that evening or something.  More on that tomorrow.

I spent most of the afternoon in between groups, although I did pass one small group who ended up with one guy having 4 flats that afternoon, and then was passed by 2 others while I was refilling at a SAG vehicle.  I knew what was coming as the day ended.  At right around mile 90 on that pic above you'll notice a big spike in elevation.  That is Harris Grade.  Harris Grade climbs about 600 ft. in 3 miles.  In comparison to Nasty Grade at Wildflower, not too bad.  Except this one comes after riding 90 miles, not to mention I was in better shape before Wildflower than I was for this.

Well, I saved a final goo for downing right before the grade and took it on.  It actually wasn't horrible, but it was just a consistent uphill that seemed like it did not stop at all.  So I just went at it slow and steady.  At the top, there was some writing I noticed on the ground that said, "Over the hill club" and "See you in Lompoc!"  From there is was a long fast downhill into Lompoc.  This was the longest day I'd ever ridden.  Before day 3 actually, the longest was a 65 mile day while training for Wildflower.  As I came flying down the other side, I had a moment of being overwhelmed with a sense of accomplishment and recognition of what this week was gonna be for me.  The only thing I can really compare it to was a very similar feeling I had after making it over Nasty Grade at Wildflower.  Seiously, it is one of the most amazing feelings in the world and makes all of this so worth it.  Well, that feeling and the money being raised for the cause of course.

So to end the day, I eventually made it to the hotel where Rachel had already checked in.  Our favorite hotel of the entire ride for us I might add.  Best Western in Lompoc.  Highly recommend it.  It was good to know that what I was informed were the 2 hardest days of the ride were over, and the next day was our recovery day.  More on that day soon!