What do you want? Monday, Nov 26 2007

I don’t want to hear an opinion. I want to hear Jesus.

I don’t want to hear why faith is logical. I want to hear Jesus.

I don’t want to hear what I should experience. I want to hear Jesus.

I don’t want to hear about evangelism. I want to hear Jesus.

I don’t want more people in my church. I want us to hear Jesus.

I don’t want a strategic growth committee. I want to hear Jesus.

I don’t want to expect anything. I want to hear Jesus.

I don’t want to be entertained. I want to hear Jesus.

I don’t want bigger and better. I want to hear Jesus.

I don’t want hymns, rock, folk, or liturgy. I want to hear Jesus.

I don’t want an idea, an experience, or a worldview. I want to hear Jesus.

I don’t want to have all the answers. I want to walk with Jesus.

I don’t want accountability. I want people to believe in each other.

I don’t want numbness. I want peace.

I don’t want rules. I want freedom.

I don’t want a system. I want a relationship.

I don’t want a church. I want a family.

I don’t want stuff. I want focus.

I don’t want a building. I want a community.

I want to look like far less than I am, be something more than I ever deserved to be, love like I know who I am, and be loved by one who wants all these things for me and for you.

What do you want?

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Graduation Saturday, Nov 3 2007

The Choice
William Butler Yeats

The intellect of man is forced to choose
perfection of the life, or of the work,
And if it take the second must refuse
A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.
When all that story is finished, what is the news?
In luck or out the toil has left its mark:
That old perplexity an empty purse,
Or the day’s vanity, the night’s remorse.

The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

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