Adam

Perhaps not all know of the story of the discovery of my faith; my "faith story". I was raised in the Church of Christ, and was baptized very young on June 10th, 1996, at the age of 12. It's not that I wasn't a faithful Christian, but that I hadn't yet discovered what that which was to make my faith my own.

I remember when I was a senior in high school. I knew I wanted my major to be International Relations. I knew I had a passion for those in other countries who were suffering. I had just completed my 1 year internship with a local attorney, and for my senior capstone had authored legislation for the United Nations creating a court to try Diplomatic crimes, thus abolishing the traditional understanding of diplomatic immunity. My parents quizzed me carefully before I left home to make sure that I was choosing the right major. I was. But I didn't know why...

Freshman year at ACU, I was alone and confused. I still hadn't found the manifestation of my choice to something about the state of the world. I met a boy, his name was Jason Mida. He was my first college debate partner, a senior, and the president of the Student Government [The Students' Association - SA]. I didn't want anything to do with ACU's social life in any way shape or form. It wasn't until he introduced me to IJM, that made the difference. That's another story for another time. But IJM and God's call to seek His justice as per the suffering of the world made my faith my own.

I always wondered what it would be like to change someon'e's life forever. Would I be able to tell?

I met this wonderful young man here at Pepperdine. He's an undergraduate from Passedina. I must confess I do not know much about him, and yet, I know enough. Let me tell you the story.

I met Adam at debate practice the first week of school. And alhtough I knew he was on my team and part of my small section [parli/limited prep/CA], I will admit that at subsequent team meetings I - sorry for the pun - didn't know him from Adam. But all that was soon to change. Some three or four weeks ago, our parli debaters had their first tournament. My compatriat coach for my small section, Gavin, was already at the tournament so it would be my job to drive the kids up for the weekend. Adam was the first one to show up at the meeing area, and the first one to put his stuff in the car, and the last one of my kids I will ever forget. While waiting for the other kiddos to show up, Adam began to ask me questions about why I decided to go to Law School in the first place. I asked him if he was sure he wanted to hear all about it After assuring me he did, I breifly told him about the calling God has placed in my heart to rescue the oppressed and protect the weak and the helpless. ***Now, let's just take a break from this story to say that I often try to exercise a measure of self-control when talking about my thoughts on God's concept of Justice. I recognize that most people simply don't want to hear about, at least not to the degree I'm willing to tell them about it. I feel the twinge of in my heart to comment on so many everyday statements I hear [such as "I'm starving" - no you're not: children in Africa are though...], and yet I try to restain myself. I loud and constant gong soon becomes white noise thereby ceasing to sound the alarm when danger approaches. But for Adam, this small tidbit wasn't enough. He wanted to know more. *** Although I certainly didn't ignore the rest of my charges, as Adam rode shot-gun to the tournament, we talked of Justice. After I checked them all in and fed them, and went to my room [FINALLY, AFTER EIGHT YEARS OF DEBATE MY OWN ROOM!!! HECK YES!!!!], soon there was a knock at the door. Adam was there, wanting to know more.

And of course, I was ready and willing to tell him more. He walked out of my hotel room that night with a copy of Gary Haugen's book "Terrify No More," a puzzled look and a thirsty spirit. It had begun.

Adam and I stayed up talking just this past Tuesday night from 9:30-1:00 am. And when finally we realized what time it was we were both awed. It seemed so strange that we could talk for so long so effortlessly. The only answer I have for that is: It's a God Thing.

Adam and I have talked multiple times since that night, about God's Justice and other things. I know that Adam's favorite colors growing up [and still] are pink and red. He's half Mexican [on his mom's side - his dad is Italian] and grew up here. His extended family lives in Brownsville believe it or not. He is a triple major in Philosophy, Communication, and Political Science. He loves C.S. Lewis, and Southern cookin'. He could listen to Al Green & Lionel Richie forever. His mom is Catholic, and his dad was disciple of Christ. He's never seen Office Space or House, never kissed a girl, and never been to Africa. He is most afraid of: getting Alzhiemers or some other dehibilitating disease. He loves to read, but never read Kafka. He is intrigued by the South, and thinks that my accent is quote "distinguished" [I have an accent...what do y'all think?] He thinks that the most attractive thing in the opposite sex [and about himself] is Chkristianity. After all, he says, what else matters? What else indeed Adam...

It is in this spirit I think, that we seem to get along so well. He is just like me - mixed blood and raised in a culture of mixed signals. But like me as well, Adam seems to have put all that and the identity crises that arise therein behind him in search of a greater identity: the one he has in Christ. So I wonder, why is it that he so readily grasped onto the concept of Biblical Justice we talked about?

I found out on Tuesday night that somewhat like me, Adam has a passion for the oppressed and the afllicted. It turns out that without knowledge of another way to manifest this passion, he almost joined the peace corps. After his parents "talked him out of it" he relinquished that had simply yet to find that which God has chosen for his calling. When he heard about IJM, he said, he just knew. He was finally able to put a name on a calling; a goal to a purpose, a destination for his journey. So much so in fact, he called home and told his parents about what he had learned, and what he could do and would do for those he had longed so desperatly to help for so long.


"I know dark clouds will gather round me. I know my way is rough and steep. But golden fields lay out before me, where God's redeemed shall ever sleep."

These words from ZOE's woeful "I Am A Poor Wayfaring Stranger" are what landed it at the number two spot on my iTunes mix "My Justice Quest Vol. 1". I have carefully become aware of how difficult it is to have a different world view. It isolates me and my thoughts from the pervasive ebb of society's pop culture flow. It is sometimes lonely. The week and a half before we graduated from ACU, one of my dearest friends, Layne Rouse, and I were talking late in a car after having seen a moview that poignantly reminded us of "Justice". Somehow the conversation got around to what we would be and what we would do. Eventually we both came the realization that my vocational choice could cost me my life, and very likely would. "I know you'll always call when you leave the country, and when you come home again. But I also know that one day the calls will stop." And yet, somehow I feel oddly at peace. Giving up my fear of death and secuirty and even of bugs and a world without Sonic to God pulls me so close into Him, that there is no safer place I could be. Facing danger and uncertainty by the terms of the world is certainty of purpose and life in God. This is my meaning for "he who shall gain his life wil lose it". So be it. The eye of the storm is always the most beautiful

And yet, I do not wish to say that God intended for us to be creatures without community. That is simply not true. The ever popular creed of the "deer-blind" Christian, that "I don't need a Church body or fellowship, God and I got this covered" will not suffice. As i listend to Adam's words I felt comforted the same way a weary traveler does when, whilst resting at a crossroads in the dark, he realizes that the ominous figure in the distance is not a threatening nightmare, or even worse, a person who's gaze he wil not catch, but another weary traveler looking also for the same unmarked path.

God is amazing. There really is not much else to say on the subject. Still, there is so much more.

The memory of God.

My Kids Are So Great

So we went to team lab last night. Every Thursday night we have practice as a team. This week, the first thing that we did was to fill out what we call a Ballot Review form. Each student who competeted at a tournament this weekend takes his or her ballots, and reads them. Then, they fill out a form where they answer the following questions:

1) What things did I do well this weekend that I would like to continue doing?
2) The most helpful coaching events I got this weekend was:
3) The most unhelpful coaching advice I got this weekend was:
4) Things I would like to improve upon before the next tournament are:
5) Things on my ballots that are repeated by multiple judges and that I should work on are:
6) Things I would like to learn before the next tournament:
7) The coach or coaches I would like to meet with before the next tournament is [are]:

Those are the basic questions on the sheet. We take up the sheet and use it to construct and adapt our coaching paradigms for each student in order to help them suceede. I'm so excited because my kids all put how much they love me and how helpful I am...etc. One of my kids even put little hearts on my name! I'm so special.

One of my kids threatened to start me a fan club on facebook. Interesting...although flattering.

Homecomming

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, I'm GOING HOME! This year is ACU's Centinneal Homecomin', and I shall join all my old school friends back in Abilene where I belong. I'm so happy! Layne and Ryan and Jonathan and I are GOING HOME. I can hear the chapel bells now y'all.

Need I Say More?

Just click on the link [the Title]. I really have nothing more to say today y'all.

Right Now I'm Thinking...

"There Is"

This vacation's useless
These white pills aren't kind
I've given a lot of thought on this 13-hour drive
I miss the grinding concrete where we sat past 8 or 9
And slowly finished laughing in the glow of our headlights
I've given a lot of thought to the nights we use to have
The days have come and gone
Our lives went by so fast
I faintly remember breathing on your bedroom floor
Where I laid and told you, but you swear you loved me more

Do you care if i don't know what to say
Will you sleep tonight or will you think of me
Will i shake this off pretend its all okay
That there's someone out there who feels just like me
There is

Those notes you wrote me
I've kept them all
I've given a lot of thought of how to write you back this fall
With every single letter in every single word
There will be a hidden message about a boy that
loves a girl

Do you care if i don't know what to say
Will you sleep tonight or will you think of me
Will i shake this off, pretend its all okay
that there's someone out there who feels just like me
There is

Do you care if i don't know what to say?
Will you sleep tonight or will you think of me
Will i shake this off, pretend its all okay
That there's someone out there who feels just like me

Do you care if i don't know what to say?
Will you sleep tonight or will you think of me
Will i shake this off, pretend its all okay
That there's someone out there who feels just like me
There is

For you debaters...

For your debaters, the CEDA topic this year is US FP against China, and because the resolution is SOOOO broad, there is acutally a TOPICAL case out there about China's oil companies promoting genocide in the Sudan. Haha.

A Tree Grows In Brooklyn

The tree "likes the poor". I'm not sure how many of you have ever read "A Tree Grows In Brroklyn". I am not so certain that I can even say I've read it. The first time I cracked the pages of Betty Smith's tale, I was but 12 years old. Certainly too young to understand the sociological implications of her class theories or the discussions of depression. But I wasn't too young to understand the Tree.

When I was a small child, I used to read a story in a green book about a tree that loved a child. It cared for it, and loved it, and cried as it grew up. A Tree Grows In Brooklyn I thought, would be the grown-up version of this childhood book. And to a small extent, it was.

The tree loves the poor, protects them and houses them. It reminded them of their childhood, moments both good and otherwise. It was their solace. It comforts them in a way only a constant and quiet presence can.

When I look out into the ocean, I hear and see things that maybe others do not.

The first time I looked out at the ocean at night here, I didn't think about what I usually do when I see the ocean. Most of you know that I am greatly addicted to the ocean. I love it. It remeinds me of so many wonderful things of my childhood. But after I left home for undergrad, the ocean always reminded me of home. But as Tyler and I sat barefoot on the beach last February, I didn't think of my home, I thought about them.

Thinking about where I should go to law school was so confusing, until that moment. At that moment, I stared out into the ocean and realized that somewhere, some young girl was looking out at the same ocean as it lapped her shores. Only, she wasn't trying to decide which educational opportunity was best for her; she was trying to decide if the educated far away would hear her. Somewhere there was a mother and father who looked at the ocean that same night, hoping that its majesty would bring their cries for justice closer to the ears of God. There are children in Africa who look out at the ocean, searching for answers, much like I was. Only the answer to my querry seemed much more obvious.

The ocean loves the poor, it hears their cries and keeps them. The wind loves the oppressed; it brings their cries to the ears of the Lord. "Because of the cry of the oppressed, I will now arise! sayeth the Lord" [Psalm 12]. He hears them, and holds them, and keeps them. But it is also clear that he has sent us to do the WORK of justice.

The ocean watches me and keeps me, reminding me of why I came here. It is my silent protector. It holds my secret: I am afraid. I'm terrified of what it means to give myself over for the sake of the call, and nothing more. But the refuge it holds for me is in the memory of so many voices not lost in the din of the world's self-delusion. There is no place safer in a storm than the eye of the hurricane. There is no where else I'd rather be than in the very hand of God, living His way on His time. As frightening and as abnormal as my everyday choices have become, they are that much more a comfort to me. For I know, that the closer I grow to Him the safer I am. The danger lies not in my going where He calls me, but in calling to Him from another place I chose to go. It really doesn't matter what is to become of me. Perhaps no one will ever really know what I will have done before I die, but what is life if not my graveyard shift? I mean what is it if it's not my time to clock in as a messenger and a soldier, and then clock out when it's time for someone else's turn, so I can go home?