The Forgotten Calling of Church Leaders

We as leaders in the church are a called people, chosen to lead God’s people back to God on a daily basis, whether they are looking for him or not. But our calling is not what you might expect. We are not called to productivity or results. We are not called to strategies or success. We are not even called to the people we serve or the work God gives us.

We are called to God himself.

The leaders of God’s church have much work to do, plenty of things to keep them busy and occupy their time, and they are good things! The work God has for us is good and to be obeyed. However, before participating in the “work” of leading the church, we are called to intimacy with God.

When Jesus chose his twelve disciples, He called “those whom He Himself wanted, and they came to Him.” (Mark 3:13) Only after Jesus had called these men to himself did he task them with what they were to do, which was to preach, heal, and cast out demons. In short, they were to use words to say and miracles to display the kingdom of Heaven, but only after and out of their proximity to Jesus himself.

In the church, our calling as leaders is to be with Jesus. The command is come, follow him, and abide, for apart from Jesus we can do nothing. (John 15:5) Only out of rich union with the Father through Jesus can we pay attention to the work and words of the Holy Spirit in, through, and around us. No other way can we see the providential leading of God when a ministry is unable to gain momentum/finances/volunteers and others deem it a failure. No other way can we speak a difficult and unpopular truth when speaking something more palatable would be more sensible. No other way can we remain in the will of God immediately following a major breakthrough or move of God, when it is most tempting to celebrate and bask in the goodness of the gift when the Giver is already on the move, ready to do more good through us for someone else.

Abiding. Intimacy. Nearness. Entering into our calling to knowing and being with Jesus is the only way to accomplish the work God has for us in His way and His will. And be sure not to confuse our work with our worship. Just because you spend time doing the work of the ministry doesn’t insure you are vitally connected to the One who gave you the work in the first place. Personal prayer must come before professional intercession. Allowing the Scriptures to pierce us must proceed presentations of God’s Word to others. Constant conversation with our Savior has to happen before we counsel His people. Prioritizing our calling to connection with Christ can turn our work into worship, but if we miss this step, we will inevitably end up worshiping our work.

Our Obsessions

There is an absolute disconnect between the way we instinctively want to live life and the Kingdom of Heaven. Oftentimes we pit the ways of the world against God’s ways (which is a true discrepancy), but in doing so we fail to recognize the utter inadequacy of the inclinations of our heart when compared to God’s Kingdom. Or maybe we don’t fail to recognize it. Maybe it is because we recognize it that we point fingers at the world.

In our heads, especially once we’ve been following Jesus for an extended amount of time, we don’t think we are that far off from God’s standard of perfection. We probably wouldn’t say this outright, but we believe that our reflexes, reactions, wandering thoughts and earnest desires are all pretty darn close to sinless. What a dangerous thought.

I don’t come anywhere close to having a kneejerk reaction of praying for those who persecute me. I’d rather forget about my enemies and consider myself holy than love them. I like to eat, and therefore feel no guilt when Jesus starts statements about fasting with the assumption that you’re already doing it and know that I am not. I war with my heart regularly about the fact that I indeed CANNOT earn my salvation, or God’s pleasure, or his love. I’m almost always battling with my heart to love the approval of God more than I love the approval of man. And inherent in most of my behavior is a basic lack of faith that what God says in the Bible is true, simply because if I truly believed all the things Jesus has to say I’d live in very different ways than I currently do.

Everything within me seems to have a gravitational pull equivalent to that of the sun, dragging me ever towards the firebright allure of selfishness and sin.

It’s just a fact.

But what is also fact is that the one who is in me is not only greater than those who are in the world, but he is also greater than I am. He’s stronger. Sweeter. Wiser. More loving and kind and just. And he has the power to change my will and my desires to love the things of God more than I love myself.

It honestly feels unbelievable, but it’s true.

“We all, with unveiled faces, looking as in a mirror at the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit.” 2Cor 3:18

We are being transformed into the same image of consummate excellence that shines in Christ. How can you know what you should be moving towards or how you should be growing if you are not transfixed on Christ? He is the image. He is the blueprint. He is the one that should be the model for everything we become, and we should be making every effort, like tracing paper laid over the top of an image, to bring every aspect of our lives into alignment with his.

The smartphone is a wonderful thing because it revealed to us that addiction isn’t confined to a few people who battle with a few things like drugs and alcohol and gambling. We all have addictive personalities, and are at all times obsessed with something. It could be something as overt as our work or romantic lives, or as subtle as something like our independence or opinion. But something is always the center of our focus, captivating our minds and hearts. Thanks be to God that we can be transformed. Praise him that he is stronger than we are, because he can take our weak hearts and minds and bend them into obsession over Jesus and the Kingdom of God.

That verse from 2 Corinthians mentioned above does not say that transformation comes by way of an epic to do list or a 5 point strategy. It comes by looking at Jesus. Did you notice that? Looking at Jesus leads to transformation, meaning God must have given us just enough strength and willpower to turn towards Jesus and stay focused on Him. It will take every ounce of our puny willpower, but we have enough, and it is our only hope to live in alignment with the kingdom of God, our only chance at seeing heaven invade earth through our lives, and our only shot at living the abundant life God has to offer before we get to heaven.

Seek First

“But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” Matthew 6:33

Seek First. It’s really very simple. Before we do anything, anything at all, we are to turn our eyes to Jesus and look for his activity, his whereabouts, his way of doing things. Before we walk into a meeting. Before we get out of bed. Before we respond to our kids’ latest outburst. Before we sit down to go over the budget. Before we eat a meal, go on a date, begin a project, have a conversation, ask for forgiveness, go on a hike… Before we do anything, we are to seek Jesus first.

Why don’t we? Personally, it’s easier if I just flow through my day under my own strength and direction and power. It’s easier if I just work my tail off to get things done, even in the name of Jesus, making my own decisions and what seems best to me.

Yes, as we walk with Jesus our hearts and minds should look more and more like Christ’s, and we should have more heavenly wisdom working in and through us because we have been practicing the way of Jesus for an extended amount of time, and yes, these things do happen. But I haven’t experienced enough of that “over-time-transformation” in myself (or anyone else for that matter) to justify NOT seeking first before all things. I’ve never seen anyone get to a point where they are so Christlike that they don’t need to turn their hearts and minds to Jesus as often as humanly possible. Actually, anyone I’ve ever met or read about who could be considered the most Christlike among us are the ones who constantly and deliberately turn their attention to Jesus.

It’s like if you were to try to uncoil an incredibly strong spring. You might get it to move a little, and it might even begin to straighten out under the force of your strength, but as soon as you let go it returns to its original coil, every time. That’s you and me and the sin nature that we were born with. Don’t get me wrong, when Jesus saves someone through faith, they are eternally saved and he’s got them covered by his blood. But we still wrestle with that sin nature every day, and if we are not applying direct force to our souls every day, we will continuously spring back to our original bent towards sin and self-destruction. We must seek first, all day, every day.

Almost always, when challenged with something like this in Scripture, I immediately think of how I can apply it and practically live it out. And thinking of seeking first, I thought of my schedule, of reminders on my phone, of things written on the wall or even my skin to remind me to seek Jesus first at all moments of the day. But as I am writing this, I am growing increasingly convinced that one of the best and most important things that you and I could do to practically live this out is to do it together.

A pastor at my church recently revealed some truth about our resolve. He called out what we sometimes refer to as our “iron will” and the confidence that we have in our ability to change ourselves and accomplish things. But he called it a false confidence, saying that “iron will” is more like aluminum foil. He could not have been more right. How many times have we had New Year’s Resolutions that we forgot about by the end of January? How many times have we claimed we would never do that again, whatever “that” is for you? How many times have we wanted to do something positive and healthy for our spiritual life and been conveniently distracted by anything and everything around us?

But what if, instead of relying on our “aluminum foil will,” we worked together to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness?

What if, when someone asked us to pray for something, we in turn asked them if they had sought Jesus yet? And if they hadn’t, then we sought Jesus together, right then and there, and prayed together for wisdom and God’s kingdom to come and his will to be done in the situation?

What if, at the start of the day, we texted each other to remind each other to seek Jesus first?

What if we reached out to each other and confessed when we really didn’t want to, or when we hadn’t sought Jesus first? What those friends then sought Jesus for you and with you?

And what if we DID do all of the things that would help us remember to seek first, but we did them together? Created art or graphics that we could keep in our homes, cars, offices, wallets that reminded us to seek first? Set reminders together to seek first? Looked at and prayed over and invited Jesus into our schedules together?

It might not result in an iron will, but several sheets of aluminum foil is definitely stronger than one.

The entire Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) seems to be an invitation to togetherness. We are all in the same sinking boat of sin, no one is perfect. We are all supposed to pray in the same way. We are all supposed to grow in faith in God’s provision. We are all supposed to work together to repair broken relationships and strive for unity. And while I think this can be done to an admirable degree on our own, I can’t help but see Jesus inviting us into a new level of faith and relationship with him, one that can only be lived in if we depend on each other.

“But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” Matthew 6:33

Be Present

This moment is the only one you have.

I am wired to overthink. I live much of my life in my head, sorting out problems or planning the correct way to handle a conflict or strategizing the most effective way forward when faced with a problem. While this trait can be useful, it has also been the cause of much unnecessary mental anguish and anxiety.

There are a million and one reasons I can find to overthink, and not one of them ends up being worthwhile, because none of them have anything to do with the present moment, and this present moment is the only one I have. The past is gone forever and the future is not guaranteed, and I have missed so many current moments because I have been lost in my head.

This is a top five life rule for me because I don’t want to miss out on what is by dreaming of or fearing what could be. My wife is far too precious to see past while I spin circles in my mind, my son is growing up way too quickly for me to miss a single moment of it, and my God is far too present now for me to only hope for more of Him in the future.

I lived in Turkey for a year during college, and I think that was one of the most important seasons for my education in the practice of being present. I had no other choice! If I wasn’t paying attention I’d find myself on a bus going the opposite direction I intended or eating something I really didn’t want or know anything about.

I also learned it from the Turkish people. They were so incredibly warm and hospitable, always wanting to learn more about me and share some of their life as well.

Once I met a friend named Firat. Firat was kind and charming, inviting friend after friend after friend to come meet the American he’d found on his university’s campus. Before I knew it, Firat was inviting me to his family’s home for dinner. It was an important celebration in his culture and wanted me to come experience it. That night.

So I found myself on a bus with a man I just met, going to a part of a city in Turkey I had never been before with nothing but an old Nokia phone to call the other Americans I was in the country with if I needed anything. I felt more than a little vulnerable and out of my depth.

But soon enough we arrived in a neighborhood that might be considered undesirable in the United States, although I only learned this later from my friend. To my eyes it seemed perfectly normal. Plenty of concrete apartment buildings, stray cats and dogs, and vendors selling food on the street, much like the rest of the city. What made the neighborhood so “undesirable” was that it was primarily occupied by Kurdish families, a people group that had been in constant conflict with the Turkish people for centuries. It turned out my new friend was Kurdish, along with his entire family, and it was a Kurdish holiday we were going to celebrate, one which I later found out was not permitted to be celebrated because it was not Turkish.

Nonetheless, my friend’s family was gathered together in the small living room of the family home, many of whom I could tell lived together in this same dwelling. They smiled huge, warm and friendly smiles as Firat introduced me and I said a halting and imperfect Turkish “Hello, nice to meet you.” No sooner had I sat down than a plate of food was in my hand, and I enjoyed rice, beans, and chicken with everyone else. Through Firat they asked me questions and got to know me the best they could, and we thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company.

At one point Firat said something to them about me that made them raise their eyebrows, smile, and say “Wow,” collectively. I asked what he had said and he told me he had informed them that my birthday was that day, something I had mentioned to him earlier but wasn’t interested in making a big deal about. They wished me a happy birthday and we continued the conversation, talking about my family, life in America, and a hundred other questions they had for me.

Not much later something was being passed to me directly from the matriarch of the family, Firat’s grandma, who had left the room briefly and came back with this thing in her hands. It made its way across the room and into my hands, where I found myself looking at a bottle of Adidas cologne. 

I smiled appreciatively and said “Very nice,” in Turkish, trying to convey that I was very impressed with this possession they found important enough to show me, especially since I thought it might be one of the more valuable things they owned. When I attempted to hand it back to Firat, however, he made a small tutting noise and lifted his head an inch, which is a Turkish way of saying no. He then pushed the glass bottle back into my hands.

I looked at the grandma confused, who then told Firat something.

Firat looked at me and said, “Your birthday present.”

I was shocked. I still am as I write this ten years later. These people, many of whom had never met an American in their lives and who had only just met me, collectively nodded and smiled in complete agreement over an act of generosity for a stranger’s birthday.

None of them balked.

No one doubted it, questioned it, or disagreed.

Their collective gut reaction to learning my birthday was that day was to celebrate with me by giving me a gift.

And slowly they began to sing Happy Birthday to me in Turkish.

I smiled. I cried. I thanked them. I received the gift and still have it to this day.

That family wasn’t concerned about what life had been like the day before. They weren’t concerned with the rumors that the Turkish army was on its way to their community to “break up” their celebrations (we did in fact pass troops and tanks as we left the neighborhood that night). They didn’t think about the money it cost them to give this gift away. They knew what was happening in front of them, a human being had been born and they were happy he existed, so they gave him a present.

The people of Turkey were consistently present, wholly engaged in the conversation and friendship that was in front of them. It made them late to other obligations and they missed plans completely in order to remain engaged with the person they were currently with, and because this was an accepted way of behaving, people weren’t angry with each other when plans changed. It’s like they collectively valued the present moment enough to change future plans, and generally accepted when that happened.

I would have missed the mental snapshot I still have of that room and those people if I were lost in the future in my head. I would have missed so many moments that year and so many years since if I hadn’t learned to slow down, be present, and not overthink.

And the thing is, I think people know when you’re not all there with them. It makes me feel uneasy, unimportant, and not valuable when it happens to me, and I don’t ever want to make someone else feel that way. It doesn’t matter how many hypothetical scenarios I can fix or plans I can make in my mind at that moment, I’m not ever guaranteed any moment except the one I am currently in, so why would I miss it?

With the improvement of multi-tasking and the value we’ve placed on production, we’ve lost the slow art of conversation and friendship. We’re so busy trying to fix each other or be fixed ourselves that our interactions have been turned into goods and being present to each other is no longer enough. If we could I think we would bill our “friends” for the hours we spend with them in real life.

There’s no other moment I have except the current one, and no people I can currently love except the ones in front of me, and no blessings to enjoy except the ones currently present to me, and no God to know except the one who is nearer now than my very breath.

Every time I wear that cologne I am reminded of the moment I received it ten years ago on the other side of the world, and it helps me be even more present in this current moment here and now. May you find the ability to do the same, because you and the people around you at this moment of your existence are worth your full attention.

Screaming In Faith

There was a parking lot on the edge of campus right along the main bike and walking paths, across from the Student Resource Building (SRB), that my friends and I used to skate down. We’d take the elevator to the top, longboards in hand, and see how much speed we could get coming down. My last year at school I found another really great use for the structure.

When I came back from my final trip to Turkey (I had gone four times throughout college), several things happened all at once that sunk me into a depression. For the longest time I didn’t realize it was depression, I just felt numb, and sad, and lonely, and my heart just kind of ached. It was actually really confusing, especially since I’m such a fixer and I couldn’t figure out what to do to fix it.

A guy I knew was going through depression, and we were talking one day with a couple other people, and as he talked about it I thought, “Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m depressed.” So I listened to the ways he was processing it and existing through it, and I began doing some of those things.

They included writing and conversations with others and long walks and going to the gym, but one of the most conflicting things I did happened on the top level of the SRB parking lot.

It started with a walk by myself, which took me all over campus and on the beach, and I stopped at the parking lot before I headed home. I didn’t know why, but I just wanted some space and at least a few minutes where I probably wouldn’t run into other people.

I sat up there and started talking to God, laying out all of my feelings and frustrations and hurts and confusion. At the core of me I had some really big doubts about my faith and my relationship with God and what he actually thought about me, and these things were eating away at me. Not only was it hard to feel so out of control, but it was also scary not knowing if everything I had given my life to was going to be upended by the answers I got (or didn’t get) from God.

I was so worked up and feeling so many painful emotions that I ended up screaming a cuss word at the top of my lungs. Tears began running down my face, and with every intention of being heard by someone somewhere, whether it was God or not, I let the profanities fly.

They weren’t personally directed at God, but I wanted him to hear it. I wanted him to know the level of pain and despair I felt. I wanted him to know I felt lost and alone. I wanted him to know I was angry, knowing he could fix it all with a flick of his wrist and yet there I was, suffering. I wanted him to see my tears and feel the heat in my face and wrestle with the strain in my vocal cords.

Once I had totally exhausted myself I fell into a heap on the ground, curled up and wiping snot and salty tears from my face. And I realized my heart felt a little emptier, which was so welcome because it was constantly full of uncomfortable emotions. My shoulders relaxed a bit, and I walked home with a little bit of breathing room.

I did this again a couple more times, appreciating the cathartic quality of the experience, while also continuing those other practices to try and move forward out of the fog of depression. And I did make it out, after a time.

I’ve become convinced that those rage sessions on the top of the SRB parking lot probably showed, far more than any easy or light or productive season, the most faith I’ve ever had. I tested my faith that God already knew what was in my heart and could handle the audible expression of it. I tested my faith that I could be honest, not perfect, with God. I tested my faith that stubbornly put my emotions in front of God and pleaded with him to deal with them. I tested my faith that I couldn’t scare him off by misbehaving. I tested my faith that he could not only hear me, but was listening.

He was.

Depressed in Paradise

You go to Maui and you still come back depressed. Sounds sacreligious, doesn’t it? That is exactly where I am this morning.

It gets worse too. I went by myself, no responsibilities or agenda or anything, just a break and a time of rest for me. My wife stayed in San Diego with my son so I could relax. I went to see one of my best friends in the world and spend some time with his family who I adore. They treated me like absolute royalty, being more generous to me than I think anyone ever has. I’ve got ANOTHER staycation planned with my wife starting tomorrow night and it is going to be amazing and fun-filled and very good for our marriage.

And yet I sit here at my desk, depressed. For me that consists of being generally bummed out and sad, though without any good reason, nothing stewing in my mind to prompt this hurt in my heart. It includes an unbelievable mental fog that makes it difficult to write this and get thoughts organized and on to paper. I am extremely tired and just want to nap, even though I have so much to do in so little time.

But I think the worst thing about it is the incredible shame and guilt I feel over it. I just got back from a totally selfish vacation in Maui, I’m not allowed to feel like this! People keep asking me how the trip was. How can I look anyone in the eye and say, “It was really amazing, but today I want to curl up into a ball and crysleep™ the day away”?

There is far more nuance to the situation than I think many can understand, which I know includes my unfair projections and assumptions of others. I really did have a great time. I was able to totally be myself for a few days. I spent hours laughing and having deep conversations with one of my best friends. I ate tons of shaved ice and Hawaiian food. I spent countless hours on the beach. I was given some realizations from God about this next season of life. It was an absolute gift and I had an incredible time.

But it didn’t fix me, which is what I think we believe will happen. I think that is why I see the shock and jealousy in others when I tell them where I went. They’re not mad at me personally and are only partly jealous of the trip itself. I think instead we respond with jealousy to another’s vacation because we think a vacation will fix all our problems, and it gives us a chunk of time when we can ignore reality, difficult as it is. But vacation doesn’t fix problems, it ignores them until we come back home, where they have been waiting for us the whole time. And that’s why we respond with jealousy, because we wish we went on vacation instead of or in addition to them.

Vacation is a good thing, but it isn’t a cure all.

It’s only after this vacation that I’ve had thoughts of not being a pastor, envisioning the sweet freedom of endlessly asking, “May I take your order?” without having to analyze a single thing or take work home with me or bear everyone else's problems. After this vacation I still think I need to follow through on going back to therapy, which is a lot harder to do now that I have a kid and seem to get busier every day. Even after going to Maui I still have desires in my heart to numb my pain with alcohol, or the endless scroll of social media, or binge-watching shows, or anything else I can get my hands on.

And shockingly enough, I’m ok with this place that I’m in. Not because I have some profound peace about it, or some beautiful realization that helps me rationalize it, or because a certain number of people affirmed their love for me even here, or even that God said a specific word to me to bear me up in this time. No. I’m ok being in this place because it is the place that I am. I’m not going to lie about it. I’m not going to fake it. And I really don’t care what others think because their thoughts won’t change where I am.

In addition to all of that, I sit in this place, heavy hearted, frowning more than usual, contemplating my life choices and beating the crap out of myself incessantly, and I do all of it before God. Not that I’m being some incredible saint who daily spends hours wailing before the Lord or listening for his voice, but because He promised to be with me until the end of the age. He promised never to leave me nor forsake me. God promised that nothing, not even my depression, could separate me from his love. He loves me. Right here, ugly thoughts and habits included. Pain and sadness and illogical hopelessness wrapped up in Love, even as I struggle to open my Bible for myself or talk to the One who formed me.

I can’t change that love, just like I can’t change my depression on my own, which is why I don’t care what people think. In this place where I feel so worthless, God loves me so much. So there.

The Night Christopher Ryan Ward Started Coming Together

Envision this: A father pulls up to a dorm parking lot in his white truck that’s loaded down with the most important possessions a 17 year old could own. The passenger door opens and out steps a 6’2 male, shoulders beginning to broaden but acne still clinging to the baby fat on his face. He’s wearing light wash jeans and a black tank top, no shirt. Just the tank. He’s got on huge aviators that are more ornamental than anything else he owns, and his hair is an absolute mane that falls straight until it waves and curls slightly at about shoulder length.

Can you see it? That was my first day of college.

I had just come off of the most exciting and proud year of my life, having found theater and discovering my own charisma, dynamism, and a deep joy in doing something I loved AND was good at. If you had asked me to use one word to describe myself, I probably would have said, with all the seriousness in the world: Cool.

I was ready for college. So ready I opted for a single dorm room so I could make friends with everyone on my floor, not just a single roommate. So ready I went out to audition for the first casting call from the theater department open to all students, not just theater majors. So ready I was taking both Intro to Acting (which would be a joke) AND Intro to Chemistry (because it wasn’t THAT hard in high school). I mean, I just wondered if college was ready for ME.

And sure enough, things got off to a great start. I started making friends with everyone on my floor and connecting more deeply with some of them. I checked out different Christian clubs and was finding friendships in several different ones. I went to nearly every social event I could and mingled 24/7 for several weeks.

But within the first two months I knew I was missing something, and it wasn’t that hard to figure out. You see, while I integrated everywhere, I didn’t really BELONG anywhere.

That’s when, through some connections I had made through the Christian club Cru (formerly Campus Crusade), I found myself headed out to the point on campus and climbing a concrete structure there with about 30 other freshmen with the sole intention of singing some worship songs together. I had brought my guitar to play along with the guy who was spearheading it, and even though I was limited in my skill set with the instrument, I made up for it with my vocal volume and confidence.

And it was bliss. There were guys I could crack jokes with and many cute girls I could flirt with. I could show off my talents. I could matter, and later I felt like I could really belong.

After we left the point, some of us went back to the common room of one of the dorms on campus. That’s where one of the most epic pictures of me and a great friend of mine was taken.

His name was Jordan and we bonded over our basic guitar skills and love of screamy-emo rock. And yes, we screamed those songs extensively that night. And that place, that moment was when I knew I was on the edge of a place I could belong, because of that picture I referenced.

Recall the 17 year old that stepped out of that truck; long hair, tank top, sunglasses. Well he found himself sitting next to a guy with orange-ish pink hair, a crocheted beanie, and a lip ring, screaming his lungs out to emo ballads just minutes after screaming their lungs out to God by the ocean.

That picture represents one of the first moments every part of who I was, who I am, started coming together. The kid who loved hardcore music. The one who loved theater. The one who loved Jesus like crazy. The one whose wounds were right there with him, seen in the endless flirting and desire for approval and need to be in the spotlight. The one who knew that his past was dark but his future was bright. The one who just wanted a place to belong and people who loved him for who he was, even if he wasn’t sure who that was yet.

Plus, as you can see in the picture, we were just SO cool.

Katie Beginnings

One of my favorite memories is how my wife and I started dating (and it fits my tongue-in-cheek storytelling perfectly).

Katie and I first met when I returned to Santa Barbara from a summer at home in San Diego, but both of us forget exactly where and when that was. She certainly made an impression on me because my “Cute girl I wonder if she’s single” radar went off, and kept her in the back of my mind. That was quickly foiled when that same night one of my seven roommates got home and announced he was going on a date with none other than this Katie girl I had just met. So, in honor of my friend, my initial feelings of attraction and interest went into a box put on a shelf in my mind to never be thought of again.

Fast forward to the end of that relationship between Katie and my roommate and an end to a relationship I was in, about 9 months later. I hit a pretty major funk (which I discovered was more accurately a depression) and was not interested in dating. In about 6 months my time in Santa Barbara was coming to a close, at which time I would be headed to San Diego to pursue a graduate degree. I was avoiding dating and many friendships, and just wanted to keep my head down and get through the next few months. Then, out of the blue, I received a text.

From: Katie Ingham

“Hey Chris Ward! Do you have time for a chat today?”

I crapped a brick. Right there, right then, in my office chair in the graduate office of the UCSB Economics Department where I worked part-time. Because I knew immediately this was going to go one of two directions.

1. I did something wrong. I led her on and flirted a little too much (I was a major flirt in college, something that I am not too proud of) and now she was calling me on the carpet. Or I said something that hurt and offended her (I tend to say what I’m thinking). Or or or or. I could think of a handful of things right on the spot, and she could be calling me out for any one of them. OR…

2. She liked me.

No one asks to have a “chat” unless it is a fairly significant conversation. And no one requests it to happen that very day unless it is important. So I responded.

I suggested a time, she had class. She suggested a time, I had work. She suggested we save it for another day, I refused. I was already far too wound up with anticipation and dread to wait. So I did what any good college student employed on campus would do: I told her to meet me in front of the building I worked in in 15 minutes and told my boss 15 minutes later that I was going to poop. Classy.

I walked down the stairs, opened the door, saw Katie standing there in the sunshine of a Santa Barbara winter day, and IMMEDIATELY knew: this girl likes me. (I was a smug brat, what can I say?)

We start walking:

Chris: “Hi Katie, how are you?”

Katie: “I’m good, what about you?”

C: I’m doing well thanks.

...Silence…

K: How are your midterms going?

C: I don’t have any midterms right now, but I’m assuming you didn’t ask to have a chat so we could discuss midterms…

I kid you not. I was such a brat.

Katie stammers and reaches into her pocket saying, “Let me get my notes.”

I fell head over heels for her right then and there.

She outlined that she liked me. She said she trusted me (we had had a lot of interaction over the past year and a half), and knew that if God had spoken to me about her I would have done something already. She said she just needed to get this off her chest. She said she wanted to date me.

I was delighted. Giggling internally. Happy. Excited. Wanted. That always feels good.

I told her I would be lying if I said I didn’t have feelings for her as well, but that I hadn’t thought of her that way because of her previous involvement with my ex-housemate, and that because I was headed to San Diego I wasn’t overtly looking to start a relationship. But I told her I would think about it, and went back to work after what was perceived by my boss as the longest poop ever.

I thought. I prayed. I talked to people. I decided. I had a conversation with the old housemate, not asking his permission but informing him that I would be taking Katie on a date, making no mention that she initiated. He gave me the right answers then, and the next day gave me his true feelings. It was hard, he is an amazing guy and I knew it was hard for him, but at the recommendation of others and through my processing I determined I had the freedom to date her.

So I did. We went to dinner. Stopped for coffee. Made dessert at my place. Talked until the playlist I made for our first date ended. I walked her home. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop smiling.

I’m still honored she chose me.

My First Two Questions

I don’t remember when it started, but I love asking the same two questions of people when I first meet them. Meeting people can be really difficult for some, and keeping up a conversation that you feel obligated to be in is no fun at all, especially when you just ask the same questions over and over again. “What do you do?” ‘Where are you from?” “How do you like San Diego?” Right now I work with a lot of college students, so instead of asking them “What year are you?” And “What’s your major?” I’ll ask them, “What is something about college you wished someone would ask you but no one does?” If that’s a little too ambiguous for them then I get more specific, but most of the time I see a look of surprise and usually a smile, and I’d much prefer that to boredom and awkward silence.

Anyways, the first two questions I ask are:

“If you could ride any animal, real or imaginary, what would it be?” And I quickly follow that up by saying it’s a VERY different question than what animal you would BE, so answer accordingly.

The other is:

“If you had a day completely to yourself, nothing scheduled, what would you do?”

And I love these questions for so many reasons.

1. It tells me so much about the person, and I usually tell them this before I even ask the question. I say “Ok, I’m going to ask you the same two questions I ask everybody I meet and they’re going to tell me everything I need to know about you.” I say this with a grin on my face because, of course, I don’t learn EVERYTHING. But I can learn a lot! For instance, is the animal they ride docile or aggressive (ie a cat or a dragon)? Do they get creative with it (ie a cat or a cat the size of a house that breathes fire)? Do they get creative or stick to the basics? Is it a flying animal? Water? On their day off, are they spending it with other people or by themselves? Do they spend it in public or at home? Do they travel or stay in the city? Are they outdoors or inside? Do they assume the weather? Do they ask about it? Do they say what they want the weather to be? There is a lot to be learned from these questions!

2. They’re fun! I have no idea how I came up with them, but they stuck and I just go for it. It always gives people something interesting to think about and consider, and it breaks the ice in a creative way.

3. They feel cared for. Not only am I asking them the question and expressing an interest in knowing the answers, but by telling them that these questions are going to tell me so much about them, they now know that I care about who they are and want to know about them.

4. It keeps me from getting bored. I have to meet so many new people that if I were to ask the same things over and over I might go insane. But these questions are fun for me too, and I like getting to know them in a different way.

5. The second question, about the day off, gives me some insight into what a Sabbath could look like for them. Most people don’t take a Sabbath, but I’ve been taking one for over ten years now. Now, I’m not some super saint that just decided to be disciplined enough to do it, I was on a ministry team that set an expectation that we would have a sabbath, and I’ve kept one ever since. I’ll write more on it later, but suffice it to say it is one of the main things that has kept me sane and helped my marriage, work, and every area of my life. So I am passionate about seeing other people learn how to rest, and this question can give me a starting place with these people later on if we talk about rest and the sabbath together.

6. Did I mention they’re fun???

Honestly, I hardly remember people’s answers (I spend way more mental energy and effort into remembering their names). But for that moment we’re both having fun and they are feeling the fact that I care about who they are, and that is exactly what I want peoples first impression of me to be.

Midwest Christmas

I guess I’ve always felt the tension between the spotlight and intimacy. My first memory is of Christmas Day when I was two. We were in the Midwest, Illinois or Missouri, visiting my mom’s family, and the fours of us had flown there. It was my first flight, and while I was a little young, my sister spent the flight handing out peanuts to all of the passengers. She’s always been a ham, and she’s good at it too.

I don’t remember anything else about the trip except Christmas morning. I woke up in a dark room with light streaming through a window. It wasn’t the typical amber yellow light I’m used to on the west coast. It was pale, muted, and as I rubbed sleep from my eyes I could see why. I looked out of the lace/see-through curtain and it was snowing! It was the only white Christmas I have ever had, and rather than it being a magical moment, it became an unnerving one. As I looked out the window, I realized that I was alone in this strange house, having slept on a strange floor, waking up to strange sunlight. Mom and Dad must have been able to keep 3 year old Amanda quite enough as they hurried her out of the room to let me keep sleeping. I groggily opened the door to the room revealing a hallway and some stairs. I sat down on the top step and listened, though I didn’t have to strain at all. There was tons of noise coming up the staircase from the family room, and I just there and listened. The staircase was built so that it was open on one side at the bottom, but you could see less and less of it as you ascended and the second story cut off your view, so I was still in hiding.

I bumped my but down one stair and leaned over, still couldn’t see anything. So bumped my butt down again and leaned over, just a little sliver was visible now, and I couldn’t make out who was who, just that there were many bodies moving around, laughing and joking, happy and warm. It made me feel good so I bumped another step so I could see everything. There were probably 30 people in that room (that’s what my little brain thought, but it might have been less) who were all talking, eating, drinking coffee, and huddled around the tree. 

I’m really glad this is my first memory, because that moment felt more like home than most memories I have after that. There was warmth and joy and love and delight in each other’s company. Looking back I think our living room that morning was the inspiration for cheesy Hallmark Channel movies. Really! Sweaters were worn, stockings were hung, cinnamon rolls were consumed, coffee was clutched, nieces and nephews were snuggled and cousins were wrestling. It was perfect. And as much as I wanted to be a part of it, I also liked being apart from it. It felt good to just receive the warmth of the moment without being engaged. And I know that sounds a little too deep for a two year old to process, but I felt it then and have realized what it was later in life. I think it also depicted what my life would feel like for most of my younger years: like I was always on the outside of happiness, desperately wanting to be in it but unable to. It was the both and of being on the inside and observing from the outside, and I still hold this tension today, when I choose to work in coffee shops, or like my office to be in the middle of things yet keeping my door closed most of the time.

Well, I could just watch forever without being spotted, and sure enough I was. I have no idea who pointed me out first, but soon there was a chorus or “Good morning, Christopher!” And “ Merry Christmas, Christopher!” Ringing out. They all called to me to join them and motioned for me to come downstairs, and ultimately I think I booty-bumped my way down the rest of the stairs with one of my parents meeting me at the bottom and scooping me up in their arms.

I’m glad this is my first ever memory.

God Delights In You

It’s like I want to interact with everyone, have them sit down across from me, and ask them to shut up for a second. It feels like everyone who comes to me wants something from me. And I just want them to press pause. Stop thinking, for one second, about everything they are trying to get. All the posturing, all the reacting, all the influencing, all the manipulation, all the “right” words used, the looks, the glances, the clothes, the selfies, the filters, the gym time. Just drop it for a second. Take a deep breath. Shut up. Stop fidgeting. Just. Exist.

Start to acknowledge and receive God’s love. You are a miracle. Literally a skin-bag of organs, bones, muscles, and a million other things that function and give you life. And your life is on purpose. Nothing to do with your parents. Nothing to do with your circumstances. You are on purpose because God said so. He SAYS so. Every day, every moment, every breath is because he says so. He sees you. He knows you. He literally is in you as he expands and contracts your lungs, filling them with his air.

Wait. I saw that. Don’t get distracted. Disregard every other “reality” of life. This is THE Reality. Nothing is more important than your very existence. Because by it we know we are seen, and that we are loved. And not just a, “Yeah God keeps me alive so that means I’m loved.” Of course it does! AND on top of that, you are delighted in!

This overwhelming, affectionate heart of God has been veiled too long! It has been misinterpreted, mistreated, and misrepresented so horrifically that people ACTUALLY think God is about rules! How wonderfully absurd! Wonderful because the Truth is So. Much. Better. If we took a moment to tell off the other places we go for validity, we must take a moment to tell off every incorrect notion of God we have. No matter if it is deeply ingrained or shallowly tolerated, it must be jettisoned. Like, comically put on a rocket and sent it the hell away from here.

Your boring and dispassionate experience at grandma's church when you were little. The disgusting words said to you from the lips of a Christian. The judgmental stares, mean rumors, vile evils done to you that in your head were strongly or loosely connected to the name of Jesus. And, without diminishment or invalidating them, your pain. Your scars. Your wounds. Your tears. Those matter, and Jesus will redeem them. But at this very moment they must be let go.

All must be lost. Completely abandoned. So that in this moment your heart can hear one thing.

GOD DELIGHTS IN YOU.

The one who made you, formed you, put that silly freckle in your earlobe and chose the perfect pitch for your laughter and extended your nose to its exact stopping point in the world.

The one who has counted and caught every tear that has broken the threshold of your lower eyelid and all the others that didn’t, holding you as you ugly cried uncontrollably.

The one who walks with you in your favorite places, seeing and smiling at all the little things that make you giggle quietly to yourself and remember how glad you are to be alive.

The one who has seen every middle finger you have extended towards the heavens as you spewed the most colorful language you knew, pouring your rage and pain and doubt and fear out at him.

The one who knows every question of your heart and refuses to give you the “right Christian answer” while telling you to suck it up, but instead holds your hand every step of the journey.

The one who knows the most horrific things you’ve done and said and thought, those things that have ruined lives and derailed futures and broken hearts, including your own.

That God, HE is the one who delights in YOU.

It doesn’t make sense. It is overwhelming. It must and it will speak into every moment of your life. It will be a lifelong wrestling match. It will make you laugh and cry and mad and peaceful. But this perfect, unqualified, unloseable AND unearnable, unchanging, generous, intense, and joyful delight and love from God is the truest thing about you. Nothing else defines you. Personality is weak. Gifts and strengths are pathetic. Looks, relationships, accomplishments, possessions. Garbage. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying and is not representing God.

God delights in you.

Now, Oh Delightful One, let’s spend every moment living as royalty and inviting everyone into this family, created and stitched together by Love Himself.