Imagine how good this guy felt when he got the boat into harbor?
What a metaphor for life!
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt like this.
Life is ugly sometimes.
And just pulling into safe harbor is exhilarating.
Imagine how good this guy felt when he got the boat into harbor?
What a metaphor for life!
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt like this.
Life is ugly sometimes.
And just pulling into safe harbor is exhilarating.
Awesome is one of my favorite words. While my day is full of moments of awesome there are only a few moments in life described by the word awe.
Here’s a few…
There are moments in life so full of awe that words truly defy them. I think that’s the history of the word awe right there. Something happened and a persons jaw dropped and said, “Awe.”
Getting back, recreating them, and remembering them creates years of inspiration.
Oh, that we might live a life inspired by awe.
I’ll admit to never giving the Dirty Jobs star a shot at being actually über intelligent. But this talk blew me away. I love a good old-fashion contrarian.
Buck the system Mike, buck it.

Most people are boring.
Thirteen years ago, in our first apartment, Kristen and I lived on the 15th floor of a high rise apartment building. If you looked at just the right spot you could see Lake Michigan. And if you hung your head out the window you could look south down LaSalle Boulevard towards the loop or north towards Lincoln Park.
You could also see directly across the street into your neighbors apartment. (And I’m sure they could see directly into our apartment, too.) It’s hard to describe how fascinating it was to know that 50 feet away were people living life– just like you. All you had to do was look outside and you could see into the apartment windows of hundreds of neighbors.
It was like a human safari right outside your window.
Let me say this. We weren’t perverts who spent all night staring out the window. But it was just one of those things, you’d get up to go to the kitchen, walk by the window, and something would catch your eye…. so you’d stop and stare for a minute without even thinking about it. A light would turn on or something would move just enough to catch your attention. So you stopped and looked until you realized how creepy you must look to other people looking out their window at you.
At first we were curious that we’d see ultra-interesting things. Like crazy parties or people having sex on balconies. All our lives we’d been told that people were freaky in their private lives and here were hundreds of people’s private residences completely open for us to look at if we wanted to.
There were times each week where something would capture your attention. But pretty quickly you’d realize that it was just a light turning on or something like that and your curiosity would lessen.
In the year that we lived there were only 3 things that were worth looking out the window for:
Other than that– it was people watching television.
On any given night you could look out the window and see the same thing. Half the windows were dark. (Meaning people weren’t home or were sleeping.) 25% of the windows were mostly dark with the flickering glow of a television. 25% of the windows had lights on, but with people watching television on the couch.
Kristen and I concluded– most people’s lives are as boring as our own.
One of my favorite bloggers, Mark Cuban, wrote about this the other day.
TV is the best cure for boredom. That is what makes TV so popular.
TV is the path of least resistance alternative to doing nothing. When you do nothing. Time passes too slowly. When you are doing something, even something that barely requires consciousness, like watching TV, there is the chance that time will go by more quickly. We look for the path of least resistance to passing time whenever we are bored. All it takes is a click of the tv remote. The boredom ends and there is even the chance that we will be entertained and really like what we are watching. So there is also significant upside to watching TV. So we watch a *&$#load of TV .
I bump into this phenomenon in a few different ways related to my blog. I love meeting blog readers… especially when someone tells me for the first time that they follow. Typically, people want to know when I have the time to write so much. (I don’t watch much TV.) People tell me that I do really interesting things. (Maybe, but maybe I just write about things that are interesting and 90% of my life is pretty boring?) People ask me where I get all of my ideas. (I’ve written about that before. It’s not that I have more ideas than anyone else. It’s that I’m disciplined to write them down for later.)
I don’t think its that my life is especially interesting. But I’ve come to my own simple conclusion: My life is boring by default.
So I make a conscious choice to not be boring.
It is true. Journey Community Church senior high pastor and NYWC presenter, Brian Berry, hates boobies.
At least, I know for a fact he hates the “I love boobies” bracelets which are all the rage these days with high school students. I’ve heard his rant about them a few times in person, so I was glad he finally blogged about it so I could use this sensationalistic blog title– I’ve been dying to use it:
I HATE THE “I LOVE BOOBIES” BRACELETS!!!
I hate them.
I’ve pulled them off 10 year-old boys on my soccer teams, called out guys in our high school program for wearing them, and questioned girls who walk proudly with them on- the latest of which was earlier today.
—
NO, IT’S NOT ABOUT BREAST CANCER.
Wake up!
No 16 year-old dude is wearing a bracelet that says, “I love boobies” because his mom has breast cancer. That guy didn’t do the breast cancer walk or raise money for breast cancer awareness and if you ask him to give you $10 to fight cancer and skip the bracelet, you’d raise no money. He will happily check your breasts for suspicious lumps however.
My grandma lost one of her breasts to cancer. She was a breast cancer survivor. We constantly teased her for leaving her foam “replacement” boob everywhere. “Grandma you left your boob in the kitchen again”. I can’t imagine in a million years wearing a bracelet that says, “I love boobies” around my grandma who only had one. Maybe I should have bought her one that says, “I love boob”.
I was in vegas this summer for 5 hours on our way to Idaho and asked this teen guy if I could take his pic in circus circus. Read the location as an intentional pun on this stupid pic.

Look… at least he has one that really says it… “I love your boobies”
He has a point. Certainly, they are all over the place and the people raising money are clearly using the word boobies to get boys to buy bracelets which allegedly help raise money for breast cancer research.
I think this is worth talking about with our students.
I’m pretty sure that young men and boys just love boobies and enjoy the opportunity to have a reason to declare it publicly.
Plus, the word “boobies” is fun to say. Just ask my 7 year old.
I’m glad Lance Armstrong’s bracelets didn’t say, “I love testes.”
Now that would be awkward.
I’m glad I took the time this morning to watch this video. A couple of my friends shared it, and I didn’t know what it’d be about, but I want to encourage readers of my blog to make the 12 minutes to hear Joel Burns story.
Bullying really is a big deal in the lives of teenagers. And, as Joel documents, it’s especially difficult for LGBT teenagers.
It really doesn’t matter what you think about “the issue.“ At the end of the day, if you are anything like me, I know that my calling to youth ministry is tied to a desire to advocate for teenagers of all varieties. And, at the heart of Joel’s talk, there is a simple and powerful truth which has helped prevent suicide for generations…. “This too shall pass. Life gets better.”
This video was a good reminder to me. There is great power in the words of caring adults in moments of vulnerability. When we dare to tell the truth in love, now matter how painful it is to share or to hear, we help students.
In the cold dark morning of my day my soul cries for new days, new songs, new delights.
I wonder where the dreamers are dreaming this morning.
My heart weeps in disdain for a time and place lost. It lives in my sleep; it dies in my schedule. Such a place feels real but the left side of my cranium conquers the right with alarms beckoning.
This new day is not dedicated to dream, but to task.
Yet in moments of stolen shadows, my mind reveals a new day. A new alarm buzzes between my ears calling me to create, basking in the presence of a bee hive of something so fantastic words cannot capture.
I wonder where actors practice their craft.
I wonder where champions train.
I wonder where the beat of the poets rhyme comes from.
It is at that founts source I want to drink.
It is at that 7-11 my coffee cup wants refilled.
I wonder if there is still a place in peoples hearts to imagine new days? New life? New aspirations of inspirations beyond awe.
Or am I alone in my tears of anticipation?
I long to cry at creative expressions so wondrous, like dolphins dancing to their own song before your eyes on a lonely walk of solitude.
I long for moments where awe seems a ridiculous expression in light of my eyes observation and ears hearing.
Are those moments now lost?
I see days lost milling with friends pondering in circles of delightful giggles as words create paradigms faster than people with pens can write books about them or lawyers can lay claim to who’s words are whose.
In anxious tension I envision manifestos so delightful that poets scribe them in a loss for expression.
People sleep in their seats collected in rounds, as if at the circus, because they fear they will miss the next moment.
Where do I find such a place. Where is moment so thick with creation that hunger pains and mortgages are checked against the register of the moment and forgotten?
Where is the place where pedigree is placed behind the streaming flowing waterfall of ingenuity, it’s bars of acceptance overpowered by respect for the moment.
Where is the place patent laws and egos vanish for the sake of the moment?
Where is the place that time is irrelevant in the measurement of my day?
That’s my Zion. That’s my Jerusalem. That’s my city of dreams.
That’s my alarm.
Am I awake now? Or am I dreaming when I call it wake and alive when I am dreaming.
Where is this place?
Take me there.
Makes me wonder about how we make complex things about theology or life in the church interesting to non-theologians and non-churchgoers.
Strategic excuses – The excuse you come up with that makes some strategic sense, but you really want to do because it’s awesome.
Examples:
– A speaking gig in Hawaii, Vail, or the Florida Keys rolls in. Hey, those kids need Jesus, too.
– My church won’t give me time away for continued education, so I’m going to time a pregnancy so that I can attend a conference on my maternity leave.
– We host an annual youth group end-of-year bash, so I need to put in a deck and buy a massive grill. The hot tub is really for building community.
– I want my kids to have their friends over all-the -time, so we built a 3 story tree house. Sure, we bought my next door neighbors house for the tree and leveled their home, but we got a good deal and now my kids don’t have to go anywhere.
There’s nothing wrong with a strategic excuse. (Well, OK… Maybe some are a smudge selfish) In fact, I think 90% of the people who complain about the strategic excuses their friends have– do so because they haven’t figured out how to make it happen.