In Focus

I've been a youth ministry intern for four days now. And I don't have a burning desire to drop out of ministry, so I think that's a good sign. Things have actually been going really well, and I've already learned a lot of things (including how to use a caulking gun and a laminating maching). The rest of the staff at the church is awesome, and the few students that I've already gotten to meet seem really cool. The family I'm staying with is very nice, and the wife made some delicious brownies last night that I've been munching on periodically. They don't have wireless internet at their house, however, so I've made it a nightly practice to go to the Panera down the street to check facebook and write this post. I feel so classy hanging out at an overpriced sandwich shop. But all I get is a large soda. I guess I'm a bit of a poser.

I went to the optometrist over winter break to get my eyes examined. Over time, I had begun to realize that I couldn't recognize people very well from far away or see all that well when I was driving. And once I tried to play basketball outside when it was starting to get dark, and I took a pass right in the face because I never even saw the ball. So I decided it was time to get a new prescription for my glasses. During the exam, the doctor had me cover my left eye and read the chart with my old glasses still on, and I could read the bottom line pretty well. Then I covered my right eye, and I could only read the third biggest line. So now I have a left lens that is about twice as thick as the right. So I hope chicks dig guys with inch-thick panes of glass in front of their eyeballs.

This story has no purpose except to introduce the topic of focus. (I feel like I always start things with something like, "Lately I've been thinking about...." So might as well mix it up a little bit). Typically, people want a sense of focus in their lives. They want to be aiming at something, not fluttering around aimlessly like a blind hummingbird. But of course we don't just have one focus in life. We focus on many different things at different times. Sometimes we focus on God, sometimes we focus on our friends, sometimes we focus on our jobs, sometimes we focus on school, and on and on. So our lives in effect become a grouping of different compartments, and we intermittently dip into the various compartment, focusing our time and energy in a specific area for a period of time.

All the while, we're looking for some sense of balance, which is a pretty difficult task. The more compartments we have in our lives, the harder it is to keep them balanced. How do we handle friends, ministries, girlfriends, school, sports, and God? Of course things get out of whack. It's too much for us to handle. So then we finally recognize that all these different areas in our lives are out of balance. We start failing classes, so we say, "I just need to take some time and really focus on school." We realize that our girlfriends think we're jerks, so we say, "I really need to focus on her for a while." We stop sensing God's leading, so we dust off our Bibles and say, "I'm going to focus on God." Of course when we focus on one area, all of the others fall by the wayside a little bit. It's like looking through the scope of a sniper rifle (something I've never done, but I can imagine what it's like). When you're looking through the scope, you're entirely focused on what's in the minuscule field of vision, and you don't really care about what's outside the scope until someone walks right up beside you and clocks you in the head.

Maybe our whole scheme is somewhat flawed. Is life really meant to be viewed as a collection of varying spheres of life, all vying for our attention, time, and energy? I think if we're going to live a meaningful, well-balanced, less jumbled life, our focus needs only to be on our relationship with God. That relationship should not be one of many different areas on which we focus. It should be THE focus. Nothing else really matters comparatively. ALL of our time, ALL of our energy, ALL of our resources need to be centered on how we can know God more intimately, serve him more faithfully, and worship him more honorably.

That doesn't mean that we stop caring about our friends, family, schoolwork, girlfriends, ministries, or whatever else. Rather, our attention to these things flows out of our focus on Christ. No part of life is divorced from our relationship with God. Life isn't like a tackle box with its numerous little compartments for lures. Even if our "God compartment" is proportionally larger than all the other compartments, it's not enough. Rather, life is more like a casserole, where the pan is our relationship with God and everything else is mixed together within it. This makes everything better. Ministries are obviously more effective when they're powered by a thriving relationship with God. Marriages are stronger. Friendships are deeper.

Sometimes, it may be necessary to put a little added focus toward something. If a marriage is having problems, pull back from other things and fix that. If school is going poorly, play less XBox and read your textbooks. But nothing should detract from our relationships with God, because only that relationship makes the rest of life worthwhile.

In November 2007, the sound on my computer randomly stopped working. I tried everything I could to try to figure out the problem, but to no avail. Not wanting to spend money to get it professionally looked at, I just lived with it. So whenever someone messaged me and said, "Hey, check out this Youtube video," I had to reply, "I can't. No sound." Then today while at the church office, I heard the strangest thing. Noise was coming from my speakers. So 18 months after a random breakdown, my sound system experienced a random start-up. Craziest thing since the lice healing.

Americolatry

It's Memorial Day weekend! And that means several things. It means that the Indianapolis 500 was this afternoon. It means that a lot of pools open up for the summer. It means that a lot of people will be having a cookout to celebrate the season. And it means that at church today, we had the obligatory annual singing of "America" and "America the Beautiful."

I'm not a big fan of singing songs like this at church. Maybe it's just me, but it seems a little out of place to stand as a congregation and belt out verses like, "My native country thee/Land of the noble free/Thy name I love/I love thy rocks and rills/Thy woods and templed hills/My heart with rapture thrills/Like that above." Who am I supposed to be singing this to? I normally assume that worship at church is directed toward God, so is it really the place to sing praise choruses to the United States? (Granted, the fourth verse of "America" does talk quite a bit about God, but we didn't get to that one this morning.)

Way too often in our churches, I think we place God and America on twin pedestals. Sure, no one will say that, but it's shown in our actions and attitudes sometimes. After all, a good Christian is also a good American, right? We're meant to "serve God and country." But shouldn't one of those outweigh the other? People act like patriotism is a fruit of the Spirit, but I don't remember it being wedged between kindness and goodness.

For many, "Christian" and "American" have become synonymous terms. That doesn't seem accurate at all. I don't that that happening to be born in South Dakota makes a person an automatic follower of Christ. Heck, I don't even know that I would call America a Christian nation. Americans are some of the most materialistic, greedy, pluralistic people that I know of. We have fantastic religious freedom, and America is a great place for people to hear about Jesus, but it's also a great place for them to hear about how they don't need God or that they can be their own god. But maybe that's just how things are now. At least we have solid, Christian roots to lean back on, right? The Constitution and Declaration of Independence are basically canonical right? Even that may be a little debatable. Sure, some of the founding fathers were incredible men of faith, but it was hardly universal. Thomas Jefferson wasn't too fond of the notion that Jesus was divine and rose from the dead, so he produced an edited version of the gospels that left that stuff out. So before we promote all of the founding fathers to sainthood, maybe we should rethink things a little bit.

Don't get me wrong. I love the United States. I feel incredibly blessed to live here, and I'm indebted to those who have fought and sacrificed to give me the freedom that I enjoy. I'm not all that well-traveled, but I have been to a few places, and it makes me even thankful for what I have in America. I've got resources and safety and liberties that most people in the world do not. I hope that God uses America to do great things in the world. But at the same time, I recognize that God is bigger than my country. The church is bigger than my country. My ultimate task in life is not to be a flag-waving patriot. It's to act like Jesus and work for his kingdom.

I can't imagine that there's many veterans that read my blog. But if you're out there, I truly do salute you, and I have a great amount of gratitude for you. I'm all about sitting comfortably on my couch at home, so I can't really imagine what it's like to be out there defending the freedom of others. I hope you all have a splendid Memorial Day and that you eat lots of hot dogs and play plenty of lawn games. On Tuesday, I'm off to Manhattan to start my summer internship, so please be praying for that, and for all the other people out there that are doing internships and missions trips.

I went to the Narnia exhibit in Kansas City yesterday. I really wanted to try to steal C.S. Lewis' pipe.

I Think I'm Older

I'm back home in Topeka now, sipping at a Mountain Dew, eating the Nutty Bars that Charlie forgot in our dorm room, and watching reruns of the Cosby Show. In other words, summer is already in full swing. For those that don't know, I'll be bumming around T-Town for the next week before I start a youth ministry internship at University Christian Church in Manhattan (Kansas, not New York. I'm not hardcore enough for that.) I'm really pumped about the internship and will covet any prayers you feel like sending God's way for me.

I don't really remember going to school this semester. I mean, obviously I was there, but I have no clue how it went so fast. It feels like I was in Honduras yesterday, but that was two months ago. But at the same time, this semester has seemed like a long one. It had to have been ages ago since Charlie, Ryan, and I watched all five Planet of the Apes movies on the projector, but it was just in January. So the semester has been both long and short. I'm not an expert in science, but I thought time was supposed to progress somewhat linearly, but the last four months have felt like more of a zig-zag.

I miss freshman year sometimes. It was so simple. I remember thinking at that time, "Man, college is so much crazier than high school." But I now realize that it really wasn't all that crazy. Sure, I was busy, but somehow I still had time to watch a couple episodes of Smallville pretty much every night, and I played a lot of basketball and ate pizza and took naps. That kind of time didn't exist this semester. After every semester, I think, "Man, that semester was out of control. I can't imagine it getting worse than that." But then the next semester is always just more out of control than the last one, and every year I realize that I have less of a grip on things.

When I handed in my Life of Christ final on Friday morning, I put a stamp on my junior year at Ozark. That means that I'm now a senior. (Technically, since I'm getting a five-year degree, I'm a "middler." Semantics.) Truth be told, I really have no business being a college senior. One would think that by this time, I would have my act together at least a little bit. But what I'm sadly realizing is that I haven't really matured much since high school. I still like ska. I still wear denim shorts. I can't cook anything that isn't microwavable. That's not maturity. A mature person is one that has an apartment and a job and pays bills and wears ties. I don't do any of those things.

But maybe that vision of maturity is skewed. I've seen people who are "independent" and look like they know what's going on. But then they still think it's cool to go get trashed on the weekend. They think the brand on their clothing tags is worth racking up debt. They backstab their friends and coworkers and whoever else in order to get ahead. And I don't think that's what maturity looks like, either.

When it comes down to it, I think that true maturity is found in true wisdom. Wisdom is knowing the right thing to do and then doing it. It's not about being "out on your own." It's not putting yourself over the rules because you're "an adult" now. It's about not being an idiot. It's about allowing yourself to be molded into Christ's image. It's about treating people respectfully, handling situations discerningly, and thinking reasonably.

So maybe maturity is something more than seemingly having life figured out. In the meantime, it's probably okay that I live in a dorm and have meals prepared for me. Might as well take advantage of it while I can, right? You're only young once. So I'll sleep in till noon, eat cereal for dinner, and watch youtube videos for hours on end. I can be older tomorrow.

Holy Father

Electricity is running to my computer right now. Which is quite the luxury, considering that Ozark's campus has been without power for the past three days. On Friday morning we had a nasty little squall come upon us, which I got to observe from the massive windows of the dining hall until they escorted us into the "storm shelter" hallway to wait it out. Since then, my days have consisted mostly of just laying around on my bed and going to Hardee's in attempts to check my email and charge my phone. It really is a sad commentary on my life that I find it so hard to entertain myself with no power. If I were a character is a Laura Ingalls Wilder book, I don't know what I would do with myself.

It's funny how when we pray, we often don't even think about the words that are coming out of our mouths. We have little stock phrases that we've repeated so many times that they just flow naturally. I know that pretty much every time I pray before I meal, I say "Thank you for this food and help it to nourish our bodies." And I really am thankful for the food, and I do want it to be good for me, but I don't always really think about all of that while I pray. Another such phrase that a lot of people pray is the address "Holy Father." I've been thinking some lately about what this really means.

Interestingly, the actual phrase "Holy Father" is only found once in the Bible, in John 17:11, where Jesus uses it while praying for unity among his disciples. It's curious that that a phrase that it so scarcely used in Scripture would find its way to such a prominent place in the Christian vernacular. Maybe because it's so beautifully true. God is holy. God is our Father. And I imagine we don't always dwell on those thoughts too much when we pray.

I'm going to go a little backwards, because first I want to talk about God as our Father. I understand that a lot of people have trouble with this concept because they've had crappy dads who were lousy at doing their job as father. Such fathers are awfully poor reflections of the type of Father God is. Actually, I think even the best fathers on earth don't match up with God very well. He's the perfect Father. All the things that a father is supposed to be, he is and even more so. He loves us more than we can ever even grasp. He doesn't abandon us. He desires our good. And best of all, he has the power to give us things for our good.

Matthew 7:9-11 says, "Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!"

In general, a decent father desires to give things to his children, especially when it's something for that child's good. Bread and fish are good for a person, so a father likely won't deny such a request. He's happy to do it. He desires his children to come to him, and it brings him joy to be able to provide. I think God has this quality too, but magnified to an infinite amount. He truly wants us to come to him with our needs. He wants us to talk to him about our problems. He wants us to lean on him after we've found out that the world doesn't live up to what it promises.

Sometimes I feel like I must really be getting on God's nerves. I mean, he's a pretty busy guy, I'm sure. And every day I pray and make requests and maybe complain a little bit. He must get aggravated by me. My voice must be like an annoying hum that distracts him from everything else he has going on. But the beauty of things is that this isn't how it is. I don't annoy God. He welcomes me and listens attentively to me. It may be that nobody else cares what I have to say, but he does. You've probably heard a little kid try telling a story, and it seems like it goes on and on and doesn't really go anywhere or have any point, and it typically ends with a climax like, "And then I ate a peanut butter sandwich for lunch." It's hard for most people to appreciate such a story. But for the child's father, listening to that story is worth the time. And that's maybe how God feels about our prayers.

We feel like we encroach on God with our requests. We think, "I have no right to ask this; I'm sure he won't answer." But he tells us to ask! Do we really think God sits up there and says, "No, I don't feel like giving you wisdom. I won't give you boldness to evangelize. I don't want to help you know me better. I have no desire to mend your broken heart."?! Of course God wants to give us these things. He might not give us red Corvettes or fancy beach homes or a promotion at work, just like a father won't always give his kid all the crap he wants. But God does give us what we need, and he's glad to do so.

So God is our Father. But God is also holy. It's interesting to think about how these two aspects play out. God cares for us deeply and wants us to come to him. But he's also set apart. He's other than us. Sometimes we act like God isn't our Father and that we're unable to come to him. But at other times, we act like he's not holy. We treat him like he's our little "buddy," just like any of our other friends. God's got our back, and we don't really have to treat him with any respect or reverence, because he's our bro.

I don't think this is really the right way to approach things. The truth is that we don't deserve to come to God. He is so holy and righteous and pure, and we're so messed up and broken and sinful. He's beyond us. But that's the most incredible thing. Through Christ's sacrifice, we are able to approach God. The veil of the temple has been torn, and we can "approach the throne of grace with confidence" (Heb. 4:16). We can do this confidently, but I don't think we should do it too casually. God is our Father, but he's a Father that deserves respect. It's difficult for me to understand how God's holiness and his fatherhood coexist. But that's the awesome thing about God--he brings together such awesome characteristics and blends them into a perfect whole.

Yesterday was Mother's Day. I don't know that many mothers read this, but if any of you are out this, I hope you had a fantastic day, because you're incredible. And I hope all the rest of you called your mom and told her how great she is and that you love her. Don't take her for granted.

Someone needs to bring ska back.

Distraction

Once again, it's been awhile since I've written anything. I feel like I say that at the beginning of pretty much every post. But I've been a little distracted I guess lately. When there's Greek papers to write, Royals games to go to, and laying around looking at the ceiling to partake in, it's hard to build up the desire to slave away at my keyboard for a few minutes. So I apologize.

And that's kind of what I want to write about today. Distractions. I've been thinking some about how we distract ourselves for a variety of reasons. Our minds don't have very good attention spans. We don't focus on one thing for very long at all. At times, we don't want to focus. At other times, we really desire to focus, but controlling our wandering minds is like caging a hummingbird hopped up on Mountain Dew. So tonight, I'm going to write about distractions. As per usual, I don't really have any conclusions or advice about anything. Just musings.

We don't like to feel bad. Possibly more than anything else, people desire to not feel bad. We want to feel happy. We want to feel content. We want to feel satisfies. But sometimes, life doesn't make us happy, content, or satisfied. It makes us feel the opposite. It makes us feel grieved, frustrated, and empty. And we don't like that. We resist it. It's like when you try to feed a baby some awful mashed vegetable that he doesn't like. He squirms and pushes and wails and does everything he can to prevent that dreaded spoon from being forced into his mouth. And when the world feeds us crap, we do similarly. We do everything in our power to keep the frustrations of life away. But sometimes they get shoved into our mouths regardless, and we have to figure out what to do about it.

So we distract ourselves. When something bad happens, we tell ourselves, "Oh, I'll get over it before long." When a friend is heartbroken, we vow to help him "get back in the game." When someone experiences the death of a loved one, we bring them a fruitbasket and take them out to a movie. When life hurts, we put anything else over it as a salve to distract from the pain. When there's a problem we can't do anything about, we sit in front of a TV playing Halo for hours. We pump music through our brains to drown out the voice of our own thoughts. We go buy some new outfit to rebuild our self-esteem. We sleep the day away because sometimes our dreams are more enjoyable than consciousness.

Thus, our problems are never really dealt with. They're just ignored. Those mashed vegetables for Baby might not taste good, but they're nourishing. And often, our problems and the bad things that happen in our lives are needed. But instead of swallowing, we spit it out because we don't like how it makes us feel. Maybe we're meant to hurt sometimes. Maybe it's good for us to realize that the world isn't all peachy. Maybe we need painful reminders that this life doesn't satisfy because it isn't meant too. I started reading Ecclesiastes yesterday. I don't totally understand what it's all about; I guess Jordan Reinhardt would be the one to ask about that. But in it, Solomon does a lot of lamenting about the meaninglessness of the world. Pleasure is meaningless. Success is meaningless. Work is meaningless. Even wisdom is called meaningless.

My heart echoes with Ecclesiastes sometimes. I look around and wonder what's the use of it all. So many things let me down. And it's usually not the fault of anybody. It's just how things are. And I end up going around generally hacked off at the world. If this is all there is, what a miserable existence it is. A great deal of the things we devote ourselves to don't last. Popularity fades, trophies rust, success is forgotten, and, unfortunately, even relationships don't always last. It's hard sometimes to wake up knowing that you have to undergo another day on earth, where "there is nothing new under the sun."

Minor shift in thought: In Luke 10, Jesus goes to visit Mary and Martha. As Martha scurries about trying to get the table set and dinner prepared, Mary, being quite the bum, chills by Jesus. If you've ever done any kind of service project in the church or with a youth group, you know what this is like. While you're busy working, someone else is standing around flirting with some girl or tossing a ball against the wall or whatever. So Martha, frustrated that all of the chores have fallen on her, complains to Jesus that Mary should be helping her, and he responds by saying, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."

When I read this a few weeks ago, it was like getting punched in the face. Or at least what I assume getting punched is like, because it's never happened to me. The closest I've come is getting headbutted in the jaw playing Capture the Flag. Irrelevant.

But when this passage did punch/headbutt me, I felt like it was talking straight at me. It was a time when I felt especially burdened and weighed down for a number of reasons, and I could sense God saying, "David, David, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed." I'm not a very good Mary. I wig out about things all the time. I don't just sit at Jesus' feet and let him speak into my life. Like Martha, I get distracted. And we all do, I imagine. And our distractions are probably much less respectable than Martha's, who was busy trying to serve Jesus.

And that's where this connects with the first part of this post. We get distracted from God by our problems. And as a remedy for those problems, we try to distract ourselves with whatever will take our minds off of the issue. We distract ourselves from our distractions. We're looking for a way to heal our hurts, when the whole time it's found in God. Only one thing is needed! But instead of allowing him to perform surgery on our souls, we stick a cheap band-aid on our wound and hope we'll forget about it. There are days that I think, "I just can't read my Bible and pray today. I just have too much on my mind." What a stupid, stupid thought. That's when I need to come to God most. I need to offer my problems up to him instead of hoarding them, hoping that they'll eventually just disappear or I'll forget about them.

Life seems meaningless. There are days when I have absolutely no motivation to turn off my alarm and roll out of bed. I wish I could just fast forward to the future, to a day when I might feel happy/content/satisfied. But that's not an option, so in the meantime I use whatever I can to distract me from how much life sucks, and I miss out on the one thing needed. I need a cure, not a distraction. And that cure is available. It's just hard to accept sometimes.

Van Ride

I was in Honduras a few weeks ago, and some of you may know. One of my favorite things about the trip was just getting to spend time with the different people there. There were a number of people about our age that helped out at the mission, so it was an incredible pleasure to be able to work alongside with them and to laugh with them and to speak fractured Spanish. On our last night in Honduras, our team climbed into the mission's 15-passenger van with some of the Hondurans in order to take a few of them home. As the van crawled through the uneven, broken roads in Tegucigalpa and the guys we had been spending all week hopped out to go to their houses, a sobering thought hit me. These guys were leaving. I knew that I would see them for a little bit a church the next morning before we flew back to the U.S., but for the most part, our time together was coming to an end. It felt like as they were exiting the van, they were exiting my life, and that's pretty sad, I think. It's similar to how I felt while on camp teams last summer. I absolutely loved getting to work with and build relationships with college students from other schools' teams, but it was always a little harrowing at the end of the week when we would part ways. You spend a week seeing each other every day and building memories, and then it's over. And I knew that I would see a lot of these people again, but it still bothered me nonetheless.

On that van ride in Honduras, I thought about how our social lives are sort of like a big van. The passengers consist of everyone within my social sphere at a certain time, and they are sitting at different locations within the van. There are people who crammed into the same seat with me, those with whom I am especially close. And the intimacy begins to decrease the farther people are from me in the van. And, just as in the church van on a Jr. High trip after a stop at QT, the passengers don't sit still. Rather, they move all over the van throughout the trip, constantly switching seats. So for a while I might be close to certain people, but then they move a little farther away and others take their places, and there is this perpetual ebb and flow of how close I am to people as the van drives along. And, perhaps sadly, sometimes someone gets out of the van altogether, no longer being part of my social circle in more than an acquaintance-level relationship.

As life rolls along, these relationships change for a number of different reasons. Maybe a person is sitting next to me for a while, but then they see someone else they want to sit by for a while, so they move seats, and after a while I seem so far away anyways that they just hop out of the vehicle. Or maybe a person moves away or dies, so it's like the van door breaks and they just fall out. Or maybe I just tick them off enough after a while, so they prefer to hurl themselves out the window instead of staying in the van with me. But not everybody leaves the van. There are some who have been in my van my entire life, and they will remain there till one of us are no more. Others joined up partway through my life, and they'll probably stay for a long time. Perhaps others were right next to me near the beginning, but then they found another seat slightly more distant and are now cozy there.

I feel like I'm making little sense. I was just telling someone about how, when I begin writing a blog post, I generally start with half an idea and hope that it forms itself into a complete idea by the time I'm done. I've just been thinking lately about how relationships change over time. It happens in all of our lives. Chances are that your best friend when you were seven isn't your best friend now. That girl you fell in love with in middle school isn't your wife. But on the other hand, maybe that dude you couldn't stand two years ago is now one of your closest friends. Levels of friendship are always in fluctuation. I've experiences this even in my three shorts years at Ozark. Thankfully, there are a few guys on my floor that have always been there, and they have provided with with a very sturdy relational base. But beyond that, things are always changing. People I hung out with a lot freshman year now only get an occasional "Hey, what up?" as I pass them in the hall. Guys on the floor get married and end up in that mysterious land where we rarely hear from them again.

The road of life necessitates change. And many of those changes occur in the relational realm. Maybe we need to recognize this. A lot of people try so desperately to hang on to the same social position they had in high school, so they never mature or meet new people or expand their boundaries. But at the same time, perhaps we treat too many relationships too flippantly, not willing to put in the work to sustain a good relationship.

If you somehow liked my metaphor of the van, I have another metaphor that relates to social life: the ski lift. However, that one will probably remain unblogged, but for the right price, I might tell you about it if you ask me. Depending on where you're sitting in the van.

Irrelevant Semantics (or, We're Gonna the 'Ship!)

I woke up at 6:45 today. And today is Saturday. That doesn't happen very often. Or ever really, unless I have a very, very good reason for doing so. And today, that reason was Rapha Run! Rapha House is a ministry in Cambodia that ministers to girls rescued from human trafficking and the sex trade, so today there was a 5K run to raise money for the mission. I had never run anything measured in kilometers before. I had never really run anything that wasn't measured in several dozen feet. As part of my training for the event, I went running with a few other people on Thursday. At the time, that was probably the farthest I had ever run at one time, but it was less than half the distance I did today. My goal for the 5K was just to run as far as I could and then walk the rest, but I ended up running the whole thing without stopping, and I feel very proud of myself, though I hope not in a sinful way. But accomplishing something you've never done before and doubted that you could do is a pretty good feeling. However, I never did receive that "runner's high" that they always talk about. All I got was "runner's intestinal pain."

This afternoon I went to Josh Negron's and Ashley Davis's wedding, which was fine. There was quite the Ozark crowd there. The cake was good, but I didn't get to eat any of the cheesecake Hershey kisses because Charlie and Caitlyn stole them all. Then after the wedding was the Michigan State/UConn game, which Michigan State won, bringing joy to everybody who's anybody. Championship game on Monday. Watch it. And if MSU wins, celebrate and buy me a present. And if they lose, leave me alone.

So here's what I want to write about today. This is a thought that came to me during the worship songs at chapel on Tuesday. I've decided that "gonna" should be it's own word. When we hear the word "gonna," we think of it as a contraction of "going to." We're lazy Americans, so we seize every opportunity to join our words together. After all, it's so laborious to pause between words. However, saying "gonna" instead of "going to" only makes sense in certain situations. What I've noticed is that we can only say "gonna" when it is followed by another verb in the sense of "I'm going to do something." We can say "I'm gonna play basketball tomorrow" or "I'm gonna marry David someday, I hope." But there are other times we say "going to" in which it would be nonsense to say "gonna." This would be when we talk about going to a place. For instance, I can say "I'm going to Chick-fil-A for lunch," but we can't say "I'm gonna Chick-fil-A today."

So "gonna" is something more than a mere contraction of "going to." So I guess it should be considered as its own word. I'm not enough of a linguistic expert to advocate that "gonna" should receive its own entry in a dictionary. Maybe it already does; I don't know. But if not, and some dictionary decides to put it in someday, I'll write the entry if they want me to.

Announcement for all you Joplinites: Chelsea Luckett and several other students are working on putting together a bake sale to raise money for a ministry (House of Hope I think, or something similar). But anyways, if any of you have the talent and resources and desire for baking, you should get in touch with her, because I'm sure she would very much welcome the help. I would bake something, but when I was a high school sophomore I was forced into partaking in a bake-off for the school newspaper staff, and my pineapple upside-down cake took dead last.

Sorry for wasting your time today. If you've read this far, I hope you'll read one of my other posts that has somewhat more significance to it. Even if you've already read them before, reread one of them. And then go to www.myspace.com/worthyprisoners and listen to "The Fight." And then go do something productive to make up for all the lost time.