Zeal

Did you ever feel guilty when you were little for thinking church was boring? For glancing one too many times at the clock on the back wall or for filling out the outline just so you could judge how close it was until the end? I did.

Maybe you were one of those kids that had coloring books, pokemon cards, and goldfish. I didn’t. (But that is a different story.)

Anyways, I never hopped out of bed on Sunday morning the same way I did on Christmas morning. I mean, church was just boring. Plain and simple. Then I saw on TV those holy-roller churches with people falling in the floor, dancing in the aisles, and crowd surfing. That seemed pretty cool. Then I was told that was sinful. Oh.

So, what secretly got taught, unintentionally, was that church is supposed to be boring. Or, if it is boring, then that is your fault. What is wrong with you? Sinner.

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Inspiration Overload

It’s the beginning of May and my first year of being a freshman in college comes to a close. I turned in all my papers, finished up all my exams and waved goodbye to my professors. Pack away the textbooks, push the notebooks under the bed, and relax to think about the next couple of months….summer.

You know, sometimes I feel like I have no idea what I am doing, and I guess…I usually don’t. (That includes right now.)

When you spend months talking with your friends, family and to God about this dream that you have, this vision of what you hope to be doing, where you could go, and how your near future will end up, and then when God says “okay here is your opportunity” – it usually isn’t really what you pictured. It sure wasn’t for me when it came to my dream for this summer.

For months Connor and I envisioned this summer a little differently. Imagined going to some place, some city far away from Abingdon, and living as “missionaries” (I hesitate to use that term). Just Christians, reaching out to a community and trying to live each day with a focus to spread the gospel. Yeah, definitely not there yet. Probably never will be. That’s beside the point.

Harlan certainly was not what I was imagining. But I am getting ahead of myself.

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