Tonight I went to an all night prayer/worship/prophetic art gathering at the First EV Free prayer chapel. I start with a blank canvas and no idea of what will end up on it. After an hour and a half, this is what emerged this time. It certainly means something specific to me but rather than render my own thoughts on the piece, I would prefer to hear yours so consider this your invitation to dig into the painting. I welcome any interpretations you have.

When I started blogging, there was me, some guy named Sven in Denmark, one girl with her webcam in Seattle, and an 11 year old Harvard student from Idaho who posted pictures of legos. Ah, those were the days. Little has changed in the past years, if you don't count the 2 billion bloggers added in the past five years. (Most of those being rabid Barak Obama supporters) I still have the same four readers, I'm still converting multitudes to mac, and my dog runs a bit slower than she used to. Today is a milestone though. I've finally added comments. Basically, when I started doing this, that wasn't an option, and until today, I just haven't gotten around to it. But some of the interaction I've had in email as a result of some of these posts has been really wonderful and worth sharing. So those of you who have read and wanted to comment, link to your own blogs, or use this site as a shameless plug for that Knight Rider lunchbox you're selling on ebay, have at it.

Ever notice that the first ones around Jesus who knew who He was had demons and darkness? The demoniac in the tombs, the harlot. The fortune teller knew who Paul was. Who missed it? The students of Scripture didn't have a clue. History hasn't changed much. If I'm insulated against any school of thought, it's the school that has eliminated the questions and cursed the mystery embraced by the teachable heart of the novice.
I love mystery. It's a foundational part of the faith to be able to pursue the more. Most of what we claim to know about this life in Christ is not unknown, just unfamiliar. To step into the unfamiliar, to pursue the proof of life, to lay claim to terrain you own but have never explored, this is the abundant life. Don't look to eliminate questions for in doing so you eliminate mystery. The ability to embrace mystery is what qualifies you to receive greater revelation. I no longer come to church to have my questions answered because most answers we construct fall well beneath the standard of on earth as it is in heaven. Let God be true and every man a liar, and call into question any revelation you have of God that has been constructed merely as a coping mechanism. A good church service is not one where you leave with all of your questions answered, but where you leave with some of your answers questioned.

There's this scene in an old episode of the Cosby Show where Bill Cosby's character (who is a doctor on the show) gets a call from one of his daughters friends who asks Bill if she can speak to the daughter. Bill says no. Then she asks if he can give the daughter a message. Bill says in this befuddled low and slow tone, "I graduated...(pause)...from medical school. I...(pause)...am a doctor." It's just a man who finds himself in a situation where, after blinking a couple of times, he mentally steps out of it to have a personal moment of conversation to see whether or not he ought to expect more out of life, or just resign to his fate that what is at hand is the lot in which he may as well pitch a tent and start a campfire cause, buddy, you're gonna be here awhile. I was working with my son the other day dumping garbage at a landfill. The hot afternoon wind whipped up a cloud of Texas limestone dust which combined with your already present sweat can turn you into what amounts to a statue bearing a strong resemblance to Michael Jackson. A garbage truck backed up a mere 20 feet from where we were standing and proceeded to dump a full load on the ground, creating all of the sudden a rather effervescent windbreak. Surrounded by diapers, unimaginable liquids, rotting food, and fighting the gag reflex Britain and I looked at each other and I said, "I was an underwater videographer in Maui." We laughed and laughed. Unhooking my parent's trailer the other day, we had a mishap with the sewage line. I'll spare the details but one look at Britain and we both started laughing again. Inside jokes can be a treasure that can take your mind off the fact that whatever just happened, I'll probably need a tetanus shot. We've had some nice things happen being back in Austin, but every day I find a half dozen times where I find it necessary to blink a couple of times, mentally step out of the moment, and have a personal conversation. "I was an underwater videographer in Maui." That was a good year. A really good year.