Forging our own trail

So Dallas (the frontman and namesake of the Dallas Stevens Band) and I made a fun little trip tonight. We just had one of the most fun (albeit sloppy) sets we've had since I've played with them, and it was really a tiring set.

Then, since we can't get cell phone coverage in the camp, we all decided to take a hike. Apparently, if you go up a certain trail, a little way up you can get spotty cell phone coverage. They neglected to mention that AT&T doesn't really work. So Dallas and I made the trip all the way to the top, thinking maybe, just maybe, we'd be able to get some coverage. 

We were mistaken.

Ah well. It was a nice view. . . the stars were really cool in between all the clouds. . . I could almost forget the burning in my lungs that told me how out-of-shape I am.

Then, we decided to head down, except down the other trail (there were apparently two trails that led up there. 

Yeah. We couldn't find it.

It was dark.

So we made our own trail. It was fun. 

First day of camp

So, leaving IHOP has come and gone, and Curtis is now blissfully married.

So, it's time for camp. I'm in Sacramento, NM this week playing keys in the Dallas Stevens Band as we lead worship.

It's fun . . . but I'm really really really tired.

I've actually been drifting off as I write this. So, yeah, sleepy time.

It begins . . .

Tonight's the last night with one of the guys in our apartment. Josh is going back to Lousiana tomorrow, and it's really starting to hit me that I'll be home in just a few days.

I didn't really think that it would be that big of a deal, but it's crazy how much I'm really going to miss these guys. For 7 guys to live in a small apartment together for 3 months, you really have two choices, fight or become best friends. Then, add that to "relational wholeness"(crying in front of each other), and you take it up a notch.

So it's going to be hard. I honestly was pretty broken up about it tonight in the prayer room. These guys know me in some ways better than anyone, strangely enough, and I know them in the same way. We've all grown a lot in the last 3 months. We've all grown together.

{sigh} Sentimentality. Poo.

Dad, I love You.

Help me to lean on You when things hurt.

Help me to know You are there when I need You.

Help me to know myself as "Kris whom Jesus loves."

Help me to know I am not really alone.

Thank You, Dad.

I love You.

So be it.

One week left

Crazy. This time next week I'll be back in Lubbock. 

I can't wait, and/or am very apprehensive about going home. It's strange, really.

I really miss everyone, and can't wait to hang out . . . but I know God has called me to some probably very "radical" life changes that may or may not be very palatable to some people . . . and that will most likely cause some friction . . . . :(

I don't know . . . we'll see.

It's been an interesting week, with a lovely night with Stuart Greeves on Sunday night, which we have come to call "Weekly Conviction with Uncle Stewie", followed by some lovely times of offending my mind with healings on Tuesday, and many interesting conversations about who our "6:01" is . . . a peculiar tradition among Fire in the Night . . . it relates to the time when the track is over when the "dating" rule no longer applies.

So . . . yeah. It's been an interesting week. It will be good to be home. No doubt different, I'm sure, but good.

Dad, I love You.

You've given me a lot to think about lately.

I honestly get very tired of thinking, sometimes

but I know I need to . . . so thank You.

Please help me to work through these things

that You have been talking to me about.

Please help me to dive into Your Word

and into . . . You.

Thank You. I love You.

So be it.

Encouragement / Mandatory "Fun" Day

So last night was really cool. I had the most fun so far playing a set. It was in the JPR, and we had a good team . . . albeit, a lot of subs. We had two acoustics, electric, keyboard, bass and drums. It was a blast. And everyone was really encouraging afterwards . . . it was cool . . . Sometimes I don't like such things, because I don't want to get a big head, but sometimes it's nice to be encouraged.

Then there was today . . . Mandatory "Fun" Day, as my buddy Josiah and I call it. It was actually the "Fire In the Night Outing". . . a required time of "fun" at the park early in the "morning" . . . 3 pm . . . which is usually when we are getting up. The park was pretty and all, and the sky was overcast and there was a cool breeze blowing, which was nice . . . but potato sack races and organized games? C'mon! Bleagh!

All of these memories kept floating to the surface the whole time . . . none of them good ones. I don't think I've ever liked those kind of games. Or organized sports in general. Even when I played soccer as a kid, I never really enjoyed it as much as everyone else. I always played the kid back by the goalie that just had to kick the ball as hard as he could so that all the players would run away down the field after it. We called it "fullback" back then . . . I think it's just "defender" now. Then there was the memory of dad making me join little league when I was a kid, and I didn't want to. I remember the first game, when they tried to get me to go bat, and I just sat in the dugout and cried, because I didn't want to be singled out like that and fail in front of everyone. I didn't mind playing outfield . . . I just didn't want the pressure of being at bat. I quit after that game. . . . actually in the middle of it, I think. 

That whole thing translated itself into an intense distaste for any competitive sports after that, because the only message I've ever received while attempting to play is one of anger or frustration at me because I'm not as good at it as they are. . . so I've, for the most part, avoided such things, and stuck to things I knew I could do. . . music, academics, etc.

Wow . . . fun revelation times . . . just so anyone knows, I'm not asking for pity or encouragement about this whole thing . . . I'm just talking about how something so simple brought up issues that I had completely forgotten about. . . Most people seems to not have the same issues with sports that I do. I have almost never found them encouraging in the slightest though . . . it's all about performance-based affection . . . I probably need to get over this, though . . . . it was strange, though, I reverted to old habits, today, though, in that while a bunch of people with whom I normally can have good conversations with and hang out and whatever, I just wanted to have nothing to do with them when they started playing sports. . . it was weird.

Anyway, enough with the rambling. blah.

Dad, I love You.

I don't really know what I'm supposed to do with all this.

Today made we want to just curl up in a corner

Or run away.

I felt no kinship with anyone.

I don't know.

Help me understand what You're wanting of me

by showing me these parts of me.

Thank You. I love You.

So be it.

Pluggin' Along

It's strange, that little desire you have when you know something's almost over(2 weeks and 2 days 'til Lubbock) to just kind of skim along happily and coast. . . instead of actually pressing on 'til the end.

It's quite irritating, really, especially when you see it in yourself. It's one thing when you don't really realize it, but when you get convicted for starting to be lazy in prayer . . . yeah. Not cool.

So. . . while everything is dry right now, while I don't feel anything, while I am absolutely bored (although, it's not God that's boring, I am) . . . I still am trying to plug along . . . hoping that at some point it will feel refreshing, and not like a job.

Bleagh.

Dad, I love You.

Even when I can't feel it,

And everything seems so dull,

I will still follow after You.

Please give me the strength to keep on keepin' on.

I know You are drawing me to Yourself.

Please don't stop,

But, please, come and find me.

I want to be with You where You are.

I love You.

So be it.