1899

So much has changed. A year's absence has produced growth in the most unexpected areas. New basketball courts, sand volleyball courts, a turf field and even new dining areas. Lord knows the food here hasn't been good since it started over a hundred years ago so hopefully this new addition will take APU to a whole other level.

I graduated from Azusa Pacific University on May 7, 2011. That makes it just about 456 days since I belonged here. Now I'm out of place. I am relegated to the alumni, labeled a "visitor" as I walk the halls of the place I called home for 4 years of the most pivotal time in my life. 4 years...Oh how 4 years seemed like a life sentence when I first crossed the threshold of Trinity Hall and unloaded my things into my new place of residence at 2nd North room #234. I knew not a soul yet mine would find its place here in these halls, classrooms, libraries, coffee shops, lawns, and chapels. The mural that was painted on the wall in 2nd North by one of the residents, my old friend Colin, still remains as tribute to all those who make that special part of Trinity their home and foundation for the rest of their time here at APU. I wonder where Colin is today...I wonder where most of those guys from 2nd North are now. Most are probably married. They'll have kids and neglect to tell them all the stories of the wild times they had in their freshman dorms.

I'm amazed at how well protected I was at APU. I never committed any of the carnal sins that young people away at college typically have the excuse to committ. I'm so thankful that my only serious trials were caused by making hard decisions to follow Christ in the best way I knew how. I wish I would have been more involved, but it's hard to conquer being shy when feeling lonely feels safer than being rejected. I look back on APU with fond reverence as a place so saturated in its authenticity and beauty that it sucks people in like quicksand to a life lead apart from risk and sacrifice. This place reminds me, like a slap in the face or a swift kick to the groin of the risks and sacrifices I've made. It reminds me of how I've met great success only to be humbled by great failure. It reminds me to never stop learning and most importantly to never give up on going after the unsure things in life. I start to wonder if is this place has changed at all or if what I feel is merely a reflection of how much I've changed since I began my journey here almost 5 years ago.

Is it wrong that I wish I could go back? Ecclesiastes 7:10 says "Don't long for 'the good old days.' This is not wise." I've always made fun of those who thought high school was the greatest time of their life, but this is different. At least, it feels different. Going to APU was like getting a deep tissue massage. When you tell someone you're going to get a massage they may think "Oh, that's so great!" or "Wow, you must be spoiled." But the thing about a deep tissue massage is that it isn't restful, it takes you way out of your comfort zone, and while there are fleeting moments of pleasure it typically hurts the entire time. Furthermore, you don't fully realize the benefit of the massage until way after you're done. I'm thankful for every knot APU helped my work out. Most of all, I'm thankful that APU showed me how to prevent the knots in the first place. It's a steep learning curve once you exit the protection of scholarly halls and classrooms filled with knowledge, guidance, and support. I thank God for where I am, where I've been, and where I'm going. Thanks to all those who have helped me along the way and who will hopefully continue to help me along this mysterious new path. God knows I need as much help as I can get!

Covert

When I was a kid, my brother and I would spend a big chunk of our summers driving around with our dad looking at houses. My father was an appraiser back then so his job required that he measure, document, and compare houses in the surrounding areas of the particular house he was appraising in order to formulate a reasonable estimate of that house's true value. Sometimes these real estate scavenger hunts felt as if they lasted all day and all night, and then all the next day too. My brother Will and I would try to find ways of entertaining ourselves, but this typically ended in some form of punishment as we usually roughhoused in the spacious backseat of our Bronco, or played hide and seek in the vacant house my dad was measuring. My father had an uncanny way of hearing us cause trouble no matter how far we thought we were from him, and as we got older we had to learn how to be more covert when breaking the rules. While I can't speak for my brother, I find that to this day I am indeed still very covert when it comes to breaking the rules.

I don't say this to brag but rather to confess an unfortunate quality about myself that has been developed overtime through sheer survival instincts. When I was younger I just wanted to be able to stay up late, own a samurai sword, or play with firecrackers. Now, the desires are much more R-rated in their nature, the persuasion to disobey is more convincing than ever and the punishment for breaking the rules is far more devastating. What I've realized as the stakes have been raised is that there is no level of stealth attainable to sneak past the Father. I will never be covert enough to fool Him into believing that I was really just playing peacefully in my room when in actuality I was defiling His temple. There is no space under the bed where I can hide my paraphernalia from Him and pretend that I just keep stacks of Bibles under there. Most of all, there is no lie that I can profess that He has not already condemned within me. I've messed up a lot in these past 23 years. More than I care to admit, but I would not be the man I am today had I not found the redeeming truth that lies within every punishment I received for my transgressions.

I like to think that I have been punished enough in my short life time to be considered a connoisseur of castigation, at least when it comes to divine correction. What I've come to understand about the way God punishes us is that His worst punishment is no punishment at all. In other words, we suffer most when God just lets us be. God's punishment redirects us and makes us aware of His divine sovereignty. However, when we are left to wander aimlessly down dark paths our journey can only end in despair. I've only experienced this kind of abandonment once in my recent past and it is something I never wish to experience again. I'd rather suffer a divine spanking for running out into the street than suffer the pain of being run over by a truck of despair.

I believe despair is the direct result of God's absence in response to sin in our lives, and in essence, is the greatest pain we can experience. I don't believe that any part of Jesus' crucifixion was as painful as when He looked up to the Heavens and felt completely abandoned by God. Jesus didn't deserve that pain because He never sinned, but because we do, Jesus got the ultimate shaft in suffering despair like no one else has ever suffered despair. I got a taste of despair this past July and it nearly broke me. If I got a 3 out of 10 on the despair scale, I can't image what it was like for Jesus to get an 11. Yes, His scale goes to 11.

It's hard for me to conclude my thoughts on all that I've learned from straying off the path so often, but here goes; There's a lot out there that seems so promising yet ultimately leads to total self-destruction. It's sad how pride can fool you into thinking you always know what's best for yourself. Darkness is contagious and the moment you start convincing yourself that a certain kind of darkness is an unavoidable evil, that is the very moment that you give the enemy a foothold in your life. You give him an inch, soon he'll devour a mile. I think having a good memory is crucial to surviving darkness because when it's all you see it's nearly impossible to believe that there is still a flickering light far off in the distance. Jesus remembered the light on the cross, can we remember it in times of despair?

Therein lies the rub...