snickerdoodle

Have you ever noticed a tip jar at your favorite coffee shop or cafe in your area? I'm sure you have. And I'm sure you've put money in the jar when you have noticed it. The reason I'm sure you have is because the tips in those jars go to people like me, who work for minimum wage to pay for rent and bills with their paycheck and then use the tip money from those jars for necessities throughout the week like food, gas, and occasionally a good beer.

At the coffee shop where I work we get our tip money every Friday. The tip money is collected during the week, thrown into a pool and then distributed to each worker based on hours. Every Friday I know I'm going to end up with at least some cash in my hands, which is part of why I love Fridays. And no different than any other Friday, I got my tip money today. I looked at my little brown pastry bag (which is what the money is put in, I don't know why) of hard earned cash and on it read "JJ $98.00"

SCORE!

It is at this point that I am assuming I put my "smiling money," as I call it (because of all the smiling I had to do to get someone to throw an extra nickel in the jar) back in my pocket. The reason why I am assuming is because this is where my usual Friday turned into an unusual Friday.

The nutshell version of the story goes something like this...

Tips were distributed at work around 10:45am, right before I got off of work (the only benefit of starting work at 5am is getting off at 11am). I drove over to school to meet with my tutor at 12pm. My tutor and I met for 3 hours and I stayed for an extra hour after he left. I went to the equipment cage at school and checked out a camera for the weekend. I was so stoked about finally getting to take pictures of my stay here in Portland that I was basically skipping on the way back to my car. When I got to my car I put my bookbag in my trunk and decided I would walk around the city to take pictures. I decided to just take the essentials with me... my phone, my wallet and of course (some of) my new stash of cash. When I opened the little brown pastry bag that I thought had my tip money in it, I didn't pull out cash, I pulled out a half eaten snickerdoodle cookie.

You see, before I left work, I had a cookie, and I didn't finish the cookie so I stuck it in a little brown pastry bag (which is where cookies belong, not money) and put it in my bag. I had a few more bites before going to school and just maybe quite possibly I decided I wasn't going to finish the cookie, so I reached into my bag to grab the pastry bag and threw it away.

About 5 hours later, I realized I didn't throw the cookie away.

I immediately jumped in my car and drove back over to work to retrace my steps. I looked everywhere hoping maybe it fell on the floor. The guys that were working said they already took the trash to the dump. I walked back to my car to look again and decided that the dump was not beneath me going through for $98.00.

One of the guys walked me to the dump and even pulled the trash bags out for me, but then left me to search through them. And I did, thoroughly. The worst was when I thought I had found my little brown pastry bag of tip money at least 4 different times because everyone else's little brown pastry bag of tip money was thrown away after they had taken their tips out. Smart.

I dug through coffee grounds, banana peels and plastic cutlery and only found traces of everyone else's trash. I walked back to the store to tell the guys I couldn't find it and to wash my hands for longer than 20 seconds.

While I was washing my hands I saw the parking police making their rounds. I figured I should cut the scrub a few seconds short to spare myself a $34.00 ticket (especially after losing $98.00). Thankfully they were walking in the opposite direction of my car. I ran out and I quickly realized why they were walking in the opposite direction of my car... they had already walked by my car, slapped a ticket on it and kept on walking.

I started to get frustrated and tear up a little bit because I felt like that should be my natural reaction, but for whatever reason I felt remarkably calm. I almost tried to make myself get upset about everything because it just seems like that would be such a normal response, but over and over again I just kept thinking "it's not my money anyway!"

And so, instead of getting upset I just kept repeating to myself "it's not my money anyway." It's still a bummer, for sure, but it didn't ruin my night. I'm not saying it's OK to go around being irresponsible by misplacing money, but I think, for me, I learned that I can't cling to money, which is exactly what I start to do when I start to make it. It's easy to share when you're poor.

While standing on a street corner retracing my steps, I started to accept the fact that I wasn't going to find it. I started to ask God why he couldn't just let me find it, but instead, whether out of manipulation or sincerity or a little of both, I thought about church on Sunday and said "I have nothing to give you."

At that point I didn't audibly hear anything, but as clear as day I heard and I felt God say, "good. I'm not asking you to give me anything. Just spend time with me." I laughed, mostly at myself, for thinking God would want me to find my tip money just so I could tithe on Sunday.

And so instead of continuing my search, I let it go and said out loud "it's not my money anyway!"

authentically weird

I know I've only been here for less than two weeks, but the church hunt has already begun.

Week 1: Door of hope... trendy, young 20-30 something year olds who make going to church look extremely cool. Appealing, right? Sure, especially because its the perfect place to bring a non-believer so you can prove that church is hip and relevant. But hopefully that's not the sole reason that draws people in, at least not the ones looking to get spiritually fed.

I've been to churches that were cool to go to, but the actual teaching wasn't really much to rave about. The actual gospel didn't have much life, and isn't that a key point in the gospel?... that Jesus not only offers us life, but life abundant?

I'll be honest, upon first entering the "church," which is really just a body of believers who meet in a theater of some kind, I questioned how much substance these people would have; especially the pastor who looked like he just stepped right off the stage of a fleet foxes concert and got tattooed by Kat Von D on the way down. Don't get me wrong, I thought he looked cool as hell, and truth be told, I would have totally listened to him for that reason alone, but when I realized that was the case, that I'd listen to him for how he looked, I realized I needed to have a higher standard for who I want to be pouring spiritual truths into my life. I decided not to judge by appearance (whether good or bad) and just listen to what he had to say.

He opened his mouth to pray the the words that came out were like gold coins pouring out from a slot machine... I couldn't get enough of them. I just wanted him to keep praying and praying. He prayed with more vulnerability and transparency than I thought most pastors ever would (especially hard core looking pastors with tattoos).

He prayed and he taught, straight from scripture, and I don't know what all the big and little hipsters around me were thinking, but it was awesome.

He talked about how it's so common these days for people to have open relationships with each other, not really committing to any one person, but keeping their options open while holding onto plan B just in case nothing else worked out. And after talking on this subject for a while he asked me (well, he asked all of us) "Do you have an open relationship with Christ? Is there compromise in your life?"

Now again, I'm fresh in to the city of Portland, so I'm not going to claim to know everything about it, but one thing that I have picked up on is that it is a very free-spirited, open to everything, don't put all your eggs in one basket kind of place. There's a lot of spiritual stuff going on here, but I wouldn't say its all positive. It's portrayed as positive because you hear a lot about self awareness, self improvement, self enlightenment, and anything else that involves reaching a higher self, but when its all rooted in self and self is the foundation upon which you improve yourself, that's not very positive... its selfish, and its lonely.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a firm believer in taking care of yourself. I believe way too many "Christians" just serve, serve, serve thinking that if they take one minute of time to themselves they are being selfish, but I wholeheartedly disagree. It is not selfish to take care of yourself. It is scriptural. Jesus rested. Jesus spent time alone. Jesus wept. Jesus went off away from the crowds to be with His father. Are we not called to model after Jesus? Even Jesus knew when enough was enough and the time had come to be alone... to allow God to minister to Him the way Jesus Himself had been ministering to other people.

That said, when our foundation in who we are is solely dependent upon self alone, no matter how hard we attempt to take care of ourselves and find fulfillment, we will still be unsatisfied.

I think many people (myself included) want a cafeteria style type of faith... they want to go through the line, pick out all the good and appealing stuff, and leave the rest untouched. We can do that, no one is stopping us, but that's not real faith. That's compromise. That's being a Christian when it is fun and easy and relevant, and being something or someone else when the Christianity thing gets too hard, or too offensive, or too weird.

And I started thinking, how often in my life do I compromise who I am and who Christ has called me to be? I hate to say it, but its often. More often than I would like to admit. Being in a new town, certain anxieties have risen within me that I didn't even know where there. I mean yes, I have felt sad about who and what I have left behind and I have spent a lot of time grieving, which is part of why I haven't felt much like myself, but truth be told, the fear of what people think of me has become so strong that I have felt completely paralyzed in my own skin. Each morning on the way to work I have to pray, "dear God, help me not to fear man, but to fear you alone."

I admit, like most trendy and relevant Christians, I hesitate to use the word "Christian" because of the stigma associated with it, but once again, that's being afraid of what others think. When asked what I believe, my mind scrambles... "Oh great, if I say I'm a Christian they're going to think I'm some kind of stingy, staunch conservative who can't have fun and condemns those who do, so I better think of a cooler way of saying I believe Jesus is the son of God, died and rose again, and plays a crucial role in the Holy Trinity. Maybe I should leave out the part about flesh and blood... hmmm..."

The harder I try to be relevant, the more I feel the world chipping away at my confidence in Christ. I lose sight of Christ for the sake of relevance, and Christ is the whole reason I was trying to be relevant in the first place. Yet seeking relevance instead of Christ causes me to compromise a lot of what I believe, simply because when I'm trying to relate to the world, Christianity really does begin to sound weird to me (flesh and blood... really?)

I'm not saying relevance isn't important at all. I think a degree of it is good... we need to be able to meet people where they are at and relate to them in love they way Christ would, but when I begin focusing on relevance alone, I begin drifting from truth, and that is where I personally need to be careful.

To be a Christian is to be called out, to be set apart to be different. Let us never forget that as we find ourselves trying to be relevant in this world.

Towards the end of the sermon, the pastor, whose name I am now realizing I don't even know (so I'm going to call him Pastor Pecknold because he resembles Robin Pecknold, the lead singer of fleet foxes), said that Jesus offends us often because we are bent creatures. Pastor Pecknold warned us to "stop trying to present an unoffensive Jesus!" And he's right! People don't crucify an unoffensive man for no reason. The reality is, Jesus did and still does offend a lot of people because he brings to light what we hide in the darkness.

Paul said it best when he said,

"I am not ashamed of the gospel."

"The gospel would have to be offensive for shame to even be an issue. We are called to hate the things Christ hates, and He hates them because they destroy, not because He is cruel or a killjoy."*

So going back to compromise...

I can not continue on in partial faith or partial obedience for the sake of being relevant.

Pastor Pecknold laid it on the line and said it like it is...

"partial faithfulness is unfaithfulness and partial obedience is disobedience."

I can try and justify partiality, but the reality is, if I am being partial in what I am allowing Christ to have control of, I'm not really letting Him have control at all. And isn't that what He is asking for? For my all?

I don't claim to know much, but one thing I do know is that I'm tired of the show. I need to reconnect with my friend, authenticity, and live fearlessly sold out for the one who called me not only into existence, but into relationship with Him.

People, including my grandfather, warned me about the spiritual darkness of Portland, OR before coming here; and I won't lie, they are right... it is a very spiritually dark place. But what I've come to find is that because of that darkness there are real authentic communities of people searching hard after Christ, longing for truth and as a result of, set completely apart not only from unbelievers but even from other "Christians" I have met and known along the way.

You come to find what authenticity really means when you are removed from your Christian bubble and see people surrounded by darkness on every side, yet still living a life unwilling to compromise their convictions. It is truly inspiring.

I may be in a new place, dealing with all of the emotions that come along with moving, but after going to church a couple of times (will write later about church visit #2) I realize I have a choice for what my experience here is going to be like.

And so I am excited. I am excited to be here and to be getting involved with these communities. I am excited to be doing life with people again, from all different walks of life. Portland is known for being weird and being full of weird people (there are signs and bumper stickers all over the city that say "keep Portland weird!"), but let's be honest, we're all weird in some way, shape or form. So why should I fear what other people think?

I shouldn't. I should be authentic, even if that means me being considered weird, or even weirder than the weird... the weirdest of them all. Who really cares?

Portland is growing on me, and I'm slowing beginning to feel like I fit...

as a misfit.

And I admit, I like it!

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*Pastor Pecknold

maybe

creative juices are greatly lacking.

maybe it's the move, or maybe it's the annoying voice of the girl sitting beside me, but i can't think of what to write to save my life.

i don't have to write, i know that, but i want to write.

herein lies the problem... i don't know what to write about.

let's start with the basics...

i live in a new town where i have been going new places and meeting new people. sounds simple, but it's not. for whatever reason i have found myself not at all enjoying what has become a task... the task of meeting new people. i make myself do it though, i make myself be involved (for the most part), but i can honestly say i have not enjoyed it (for the most part).

why? i don't know. and the more i try to figure it out, the more frustrated i get.

i used to love this. not only love it, i used to be good at it. meeting new people, are you kidding me? pull out the clipboard, write my name on it and sign me up!

not this time, not this move.

i just want to find a place of my own and i want to hide. i want to hide from the people, i want to hide from the city and i want to hide from the reason that i have come here.

i want to hide from the reality that it was my choice to leave behind the place and the people that i have called home for the last three and a half years. i want to hide from my grief because every time it creeps up i am only reminded that i have brought it upon myself.

and so what now? how do i manage all of these emotions along with adjusting to a new town, a new job, a new school, and hopefully a new community? who do i tell how i feel? who do i reach out to? who can i be real with? and who will listen without expectation of someone greater?

maybe the expectation to be great is one that i have placed upon myself. maybe no one expects this of me at all. yet the truth of the matter is that there is this voice, whether it be one of truth or one of lies, that tells me i need to be great... i have to be great, and i don't know how to silence it and allow myself to just be.

so maybe i'll stop looking. maybe i'll stop looking for someone to confide in. maybe i'll stop looking for somewhere to hide. maybe i'll stop looking for the girl i used to be and instead just rest.

and maybe God will show up and find me here, resting and waiting. and maybe then i will be ready for what He has planned for me.

maybe it is all actually only when i stop, be still, and know who He is that i will ever really find myself and find where i fit in this life, regardless of where i am.

maybe, just maybe, this isn't really about me at all.