It was surreal to stand outside my own front door again last night. After the innumerable miles, an ocean crossed twice, gallivanting through the countryside of the Czech Republic by foot and bus and train, pounding the streets of Prague beneath soaring cathedrals, an entire world laid bare from 35,000 feet in the air, one door remained at the end of the trip to remind me of God’s faithfulness.

It was a great trip. I want to thank all of you who prayed for our effectiveness, finances, and safety over the two long weeks. I’ll share some experiences on the blog shortly.

I also want to thank you for continuing to read and comment on my blog while I was gone. I’ll soon be replying to the comments.

If you’d like to pray for us, please pray about the decompression phase – the come-down from the trip and its adrenaline and highs, the mediocrity of our regular lives and our old battles reasserting themselves, the hardness of saying goodbye. Pray that it goes well and that our hearts are caught by Christ. If you’ve been on mission yourself, you know these times can be tough – like the reentry from vacation, but multiplied by ten. Also pray that God will make grow the seeds that we have been privileged to plant and water in the hearts of the Czechs.

In the meantime, here are links to the Pizza Lessons series I auto-posted while I was gone. I hope you enjoy them while I get back into the regular swing of things, which might delay a Thursday blog post.

Part 1: The God Who Keeps No Score

Part 2: You Never Know

Part 3: Not Crediting God is a Sin?

Part 4: Done With Judging

Part 5: Down the Barrel of the Gun

…here’s a poem I had to write for English class once.

What? It doesn’t always have to be all serious up in here.

I refuse to write this poem
You can’t make me, I won’t show ’em
No doubt my thoughts would be below ’em
They’ll just laugh (too well I know ’em)
At how clumsily I grow ’em
I’m skilled not, will not write this poem.

I refuse to churn out lines
Or wrack my head to spit out rhymes
To foot and verse I’m not inclined
Regardless of how loud you whine
At every turn, I shall decline
I’d rather plot a nice cosine.

I refuse to ponder men
Passed on fivescore years and ten
Who spent their lives in soggy glens
Staring at some silly flower
For a fortnight and an hour
Or locked away in dusty dens
Pale hands stuck to their pens
Pulling out their hair again
By some tricky verse devoured
Rhyming dictionary scoured
Do not such great poets end
In asylums, looking sour?

I refuse to write these verses
My mind is full of rage and curses
Ugly thoughts of zombie hearses
Not the rhymes that come to nurses
Trust me, you don’t want to know ’em
I just can’t, just shan’t write this poem.

I refuse to wrap my brain
Around these concepts I disdain
Similes blow right past me
Like the wind I cannot see
Lost I am with metaphors
Drifting off that distant shore
Alliteration is insane
Syllables that start the same?
Such a silly subject serves
Only to get on my nerves.

I refuse to waste my time
Grappling with foot and rhyme
To your pleadings I’m immune
Surely you will yield soon
I’ll resist all afternoon!
All assignments, I’ll forgo ’em
I care not, dare not write this poem.

I refuse, with my two hands
To crank out poems on command
Great musings you may demand
But I just do not understand
Iamb, trochee, anapest?
Surely you must be in jest!
Who among the devil’s pests
Sent to earth to cause unrest
Coined THOSE words? But I digress
I simply won’t put on this yoke
Pentameter makes me choke
I’d rather go and take a soak
In massive vats of rancid coke.

I refuse to write this poem
I just will not undergo ’em
My defiance is infinite!
This argument is stubborn, i’n’t it?
I really put my vocab in it
Persist you may, but I will win it
You can’t prevail...wait a minute.

(my teacher gave me on A on this poem and used it as the first entry in my class’s collection book)

Praise God. He has raised all the money I needed for my upcoming mission to the Czech Republic.

(This actually happened a few weeks ago. I would have posted about it sooner, but a medical issue arose that briefly called my participation on the trip into question. I’ll write more about that soon – suffice it to say that everything’s now fine.)

I want to thank you, dear reader, for any prayers you sent up for my fundraising efforts since I first posted about my trip. I really believe that prayer makes a difference, that God allows prayer to make a difference in order to get us involved in his work and draw us closer to him. Today is a great example.

When God provides financially for someone, he gets creative. It’s fun to watch. My barber called my haircut free the other day as a donation. Someone I barely knew offered me a donation in exchange for an old, non-working guitar of mine (her class used it for a project or something). My mission team did a dessert auction. GoFundMe is creativity. A lot of people enjoy GoFundMe because it’s simpler and easier to use – point and click – than a cornucopia of checks and support forms and where do I mail this and what do I write on the check and so forth.

Even if your only contribution to my trip was prayer, that is no small contribution. I now consider my prayer supporters part of the team. Those folks will receive updates and appreciation out of my desire for you to see your investment.

It’s not too late to join that team, by the way. Please pray for the hearts of the Czech citizens I’m visiting. Pray hard.

Anyway, just a little note on my progress. Thanks so much for your support.

Last fall, a blogging mentor of mine welcomed me to guest-post on her blog. I had the perfect story to tell, thanks to a timely lunch with a high school friend I hadn’t seen in fifteen years. Ever had one of those revealing conversations that completely reshapes your viewpoint on your past? This was one of those, one that exposed some deep lies about my self-worth. The piece actually got picked up by an online Christian publication!

Enjoy.

http://www.christyfitzwater.com/self-worth/story-envy-filthy-liar/

Radical, radical, radical.

Everything is about being a radical follower of Jesus.

How to say this…have you noticed everything is kind of polarized lately?

When it comes to politics (this post is not about politics, it’s just an example, don’t click that back button), I feel like the guy trying to keep the Hatfields and McCoys apart. On one side, millennial friends who are left-wing Christians (you didn’t misread that); on the other, conservatives like myself. Their debates are.I’m trying to maintain a balance for myself; there’s usually a kernel of truth in most viewpoints.

Of course, the pickle of being in the middle is that it leaves you saying opposite things to each side in order to bring them closer. It feels…weird. Like I’m contradicting myself.

But I’m not, because not everyone needs to hear the same thing.

Getting off politics, I recently stumbled across a blog post pushing back against Christian author Francis Chan for criticizing believers who homeschool or private school. I don’t know if Chan meant to suggest a blanket ban, but this writer thought he did, and boom…another debate. Is homeschooling radical?

I’m not here to answer that, either. Truth is, it depends on who you ask.

And that’s the problem. Everyone’s saying “radical Christianity”; nobody’s given us a foolproof formula for what it looks like.

God has, though.

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I was a squirrelly 15-year-old, so I don’t remember what started the conversation. But I do remember the first piece of doctrine I learned from my senior pastor.

Interestingly, Daniel’s lesson to me that day was one he’s teaching this very month: from Matthew 5, about outer realities versus inner. It isn’t enough, he taught me, to technically adhere to the law while still longing to break it. Jesus “raised the stakes”, he said to me; he taught that inner darkness is the real sin, and inner righteousness is the real treasure. A crucial lesson, and a very “Daniel” one.

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Picking back up with Humble Pie Week on Brandonjadams.com…

I screwed up yesterday. I missed a lunch with a friend. Spaced it. Sesame Street’s Forgetful Jones would be proud.

You might not think it a huge deal. My friend doesn’t. He and I have been friends for many years, and he’s hardly a petty man. We just rescheduled.

But you know how it is: our frustration is proportional to how highly we esteem the person we disappointed, and this guy pegs my scale. Plus, I want to be a fully reliable person, and this memory lapse business is all too common. I’d been looking forward to the lunch all week, remembered it two hours prior, even set a phone alarm. And of course it dodged all those layers: my phone managed to get buried on my desk and have its vibrate turned off by my pocket at some point. Fabulous.

And just to add insult to injury, the very next hour revealed an important task I’d forgotten to do for my boss.

Needless to say, the day was sliding into Beat Yourself Up territory on a greased pole.

As if that ever changes anything.

And given how brutally hard I am on myself, with the failure-barrages of marriage and ministry still hopefully ahead of me, one thing is clear: I’m going to have to start loving myself.

Loving myself.

Whaaaaa? you say. Loving yourself? That’s not right. We should be dying to ourselves, becoming less selfish. Being proud and putting ourselves first isn’t Biblical at all!

You’re right.

The catch is…that’s not love. Pride isn’t love. Self-focus isn’t love. We have love’s definition down in black and white, in 1 Corinthians 13. Sure, this is a bit of a “war over words” that I’m engaging in, but maybe love is a word we should defend. Why should we fear applying proper, Biblical love to ourselves? When is the last time we even tried?

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