It's mornings like these I've got to brew another pot of coffee.

"I was saving my first cup this morning for breakfast with you."
A high compliment of a good friend. I smiled back from across the table, "Me too."

I met with Troy yesterday with a blurry sight of the future.
I left the meeting with Troy yesterday, still with a blurry sight of the future.

It's been an uncomfortable venture, really, I wonder why I'm doing it. It's not exactly convenient. It's not ice cream and chocolate cake. I get shaky every time I think about it. Even now.

I read some thing by c.s. lewis recently that said something about how we shouldn't worry so much when we can't seem to find time to be alone, because God will provide for it. Jesus seemed to be this way too. Sometimes He'd try to be alone, but people would show up. And He'd kind of warmly accept them, while I'd probably been all bent out of shape by the fact that I "couldn't handle being with people" at the time. It's weird though, if we trust him, he makes these things work.

I've been wracking my brain trying to find time to get ready for Tucker, to read, to pray. Sometimes it's good, my time alone, sometimes it's bad. Usually I walk away feeling really undone about the whole thing. It goes along with the coffee thing. "Holding cups of coffee like they were answers, like in them was some sort of answer for salvation." I think I've turned morning time into this same hope. And it's killer when morning time is always below par. It's killer when your soul isn't really communing with God the only way you think it possible to. But I'm learning about how we're a little more freed up than that. Yes, we read, but we also dance. We sit but we also fly. But that's for another time. Now I want to say this, the provision of God, He knows what we need. He knows when we need it. I've been without a single solitary vision or feeling for Tucker for a month or two. Just petrified by it.

The past two days though, opened up like clouds burning off from a rising sun.
Not in the way that I have answers, or even a dream. But I've got something.

So this is how it's going to be, God?

Oye. Piece by piece. "We have nothing but these five loaves and two fish."
And you broke them into twelve and handed them to us. Now all I have in my hand is a twelfth of that something.

And now you're telling us to turn around and feed the five thousand.

Obviously we don't have what it takes. We don't have enough,
but we have something.
And Jesus wants that.

We just have to turn around now and face the crowd. We can't fail, you see, because God's going to do what He's going to do, because obviously we aren't going to accomplish it with our twelfth.

I'm still a little shaky though, as I do not know what it looks like. I just know Jesus loves all of us, and He wants everyone to be fed. This is our life.

From Surprised by Hope.
"All language about the future, as any economics or politician will tell you, is simply a set of signposts pointing into a fog. We see through a glass darkly, says St. Paul as he peers toward what lies ahead. All our language about future states of the world and of ourselves consists of complex pictures that may or may not correspond very well to the ultimate reality. But that doesn't mean it's anybody's guess or that every opinion is as good as every other one. And - supposing someone came forward out of the fog? That, of course, is the central though often ignored Christian belief."


I drove Nia home from the airport last night. As I was relaying the meeting to her, and how I felt about not knowing what the hell God wanted for tucker or for the team...how I was just praying God would show us what our bread and fish were, she said
"I feel like it's like you're all looking at a poster. It's blurry and doesn't make sense, and it might look different to all of you now, but the closer you walk, the more the poster is itself."

And my annoying friend Jeffrey argued at the Bookhouse the other night,"Who says this table is really a table?"
My angry retort was, "Yeah, but it is still something. And that something, we can't change. It just is. It is existing."

He has a plan. And He isn't safe. But He is good. And He loves us.
Ready, set, let's go.