Of Mice and Men and Disgusting Places

Okay, I admit. I'm terrified of spiders. Not just in a "Eww, that's gross" way but in a "AAAHHH!" way. Usually, when I see a spider, I scream like a woman and make Lydia smash it for me.

Of course, that's tamed down a lot since I moved to Oregon. There's approximately 1.38 trillion-kabillion spiders just on the YWAM campus alone. Literally, one time last summer I was sitting on some up-turned buckets with a couple of other guys for no more than 10 minutes, and as we watched a little arachnid proceeded to make a web between one of the other guy's shins. So, I can't really scream every time I see one anymore. Instead I have to stifle it inside, get all fidgety and hope that I can pass without it noticing me.

There was one time, in Hawaii, that Lydia and I were actually attacked by the most aggressive, meanest, nastiest spider on earth. Thank God I haven't seen any like that around here. Still, it sucks going to storage and having to arm myself with my ice scraper because every box that I move releases 3 or 4 of the little creepies. The worst is that my aim is terrible, partially because I'm afraid I'll just anger them by trying to whack them, and partially because spiders have this weird ability to move somewhere completely unexpected at the last second. If you try and compensate for this, you never know where they're going to go, but it you don't they just move out of the way. Or something.

So do you have the image of me, ineffectually spasm-flailing at several spiders with an ice-scraper? Then you'll understand why I was so annoyed at a mouse today.

Mice don't bother me. I don't need to jump on my chair or anything like that. They're usually cute and fuzzy and have little whiskers and a nose that crinkles when they sniff the air. Sure, I don't want one crawling on me without my permission, but they usually don't like to do that (unlike spiders, who will crawl anywhere with total disregard to decorum). But what I do mind is when a mouse takes up residences inside the dryer vent in our house. Not actually inside the house, technically. Just in the dryer vent.

Even that I wouldn't mind - I probably wouldn't even notice - except that this mouse decided to store all the loud, rattling seeds he could find in there. So now, whenever we turn on the dryer, there was a few minutes of insane rattling as the seeds all got blown somewhere further down the line. Also, whenever the mouse comes home lately it makes an awful racket, enough to wake Lydia up at night. (Nothing wakes me up, except spiders.)

So today I have to fix it. And guess where I have to go? That's right, under the house. Where approximately 87% of the spiders live to begin with.

First, I sat at the crawl-space opening for about 10 minutes, trying vainly to see something with my flashlight that doesn't look like a web filled with hobo spiders. I do not want to crawl under there. But wait, what's that? I can see the vent hose. It's lying on the ground. It looks like it's fallen off the connector that holds it on the wall, thereby allowing vermin to enter at their leisure. But it hasn't fallen that far off. Maybe, if I just go around to the other side, unscrew this thing from the wall, I can just reach in there and grab it - no, wait, let me get a stick and remove all the cobwebs - there! Yes!

Amazingly, I completed the whole operation without actually going under the house (except for about 18 inches of my arm). Also, there was a brand new vent kit under the house as well. That's weird, it's almost like someone living here before had the same problem. I guess they chickened out, too.

So, the moral of the story is that you need to kill mice before they make you crawl somewhere with spiders.

Anyway, I found another picture of an actor with hair like mine:

Why Portland?

So, many times we get asked this question: "Why Portland?"

This question usually follows us explaining that we feel called to start a discipleship school in Portland. But not usually right after. The people asking this question usually wait two or three days and spring it on me at an inopportune moment, when my mind is totally engrossed with the sandwich I'm eating, or exactly how far I can tip that chair back without falling over, or something equally mundane. They'll just walk up to me out of the blue and say "Why Portland?" like I should have some deep insightful answer just sitting there, waiting for someone to ask me.

What usually ends up happening, is I stammer out a few stats about human trafficking, something about how much Portland needs it, or homelessness, or maybe something about how cool of a place it is. It's not convincing at all, and it sounds very much like I'm not committed, or that I haven't thought through this thing at all, but that's about as far from the truth as it could be. It's just that my mind doesn't switch into sales mode that quickly. I'm more apt to be wondering how the decay of the speed of light as a universal constant could be a convincing argument for creationism, or about how the organizational structure of YWAM spells it's own death, or about what light waves refract in the atmosphere above the clouds.

What I'm not thinking about is: "What's a cool way to communicate the vision I feel God has put on my heart for Portland and my future?"

So, here's an attempt:

Why Portland? I'm glad you asked! It's simple, really. God called us there. I don't understand all of his reasons. I just know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it's where he wants us to be. God is doing something special in Portland right now. There's lots of things being started there and being brought back there or moving there for the first time. I don't understand it completely, but Portland is spiritually significant right now.

Also, both Lydia and I feel that God is putting on our hearts some type of authentic community (yes, I know that's all the rage right now). Not like an ultra-hip church, though. I'm not ultra-hip, and I don't know how to be. Also, I don't go to church.

No, the community God is describing to us is a community of people that does life together. Instead of being committed to a "cause" or a "model" or something like that, they're committed to each other. Plain and simple. They live together, they eat together, they get involved in each other's lives. They don't all work in the same place - in fact, they interact with and react to the community at large, but are so filled up with love and refreshed and enjoying life and God that they become beacons of hope to people who have no understanding of unconditional love, who may even be hostile to God.

Now, Portland seems like an awesome place to make that happen. I envision myself running a discipleship school half the year, then working with the previously described communal group the rest of the year. And raising a family. And having awesome microbrews. And going on missions. And writing a (New York Times Best-selling) book(s).

Want to come?

I found it!

Here it is! The movie is "My Bodyguard," and the actor is Chris Makepeace. He even looks like he's crying when he's smiling.

To Hair or Not to Hair?

I've been growing my hair out recently. Or, not so recently, depending on how you look at it. Since about April of last year, or around 9 months now. "Out" is also a very apt term, since my hair doesn't grow long, it just grows out. And up. It looks vaguely like a character from a 70's movie that I can't remember the title of. The lead character is this dorky kid who makes friends with the bully and helps him rebuild a motorcycle, or something like that. Anyway, he cries a lot. My hair looks like his. Which is good, or bad, depending on how you look at it.

If you look at it like me, which is in the mirror generally only once or twice a day, it seems fine when it's still wet from the shower and I leave the house. Then, when I return home after a day of meeting with important people, giving lectures and some very intense personal discipleship to the students, and take the time to look in the mirror whilst brushing my teeth, I have a moment of "What the heck is that on top of my head?"

So every night I swear I'm going to shave it all off, then every morning I think "Eh, not so bad."

Lydia steadfastly refuses to comment on this issue. She will neither say yea or nay to the hair, probably because I have her trained that it is my one (ha!) area of insecurity and that I'll break down and cry like the aforementioned 70's movie character if she says it doesn't look good. So she's no help.

While we're on the topic of hair, Lydia is talking about getting dreadlocks. Which is fine with me, she can do what she wants. I merely pointed out to her that I have not ever seen a white person with dreadlocks that look good on them. Ever. She doesn't seem fazed. I'm still in denial about it.

So what am I to do? Randomly stop people in the middle of a conversation and say "Do you think my hair looks good? Or should I just shave it all off?" What if they expect me to return the favor and I'm forced to squirm uncomfortably, look at my shoes and say "Looks fine to me..." I don't think I could handle that kind of pressure.

So the hair stays. Or maybe not. No, no, it's definitely going.

Maybe.

Possibilities, Decisions, and Purpose

So we're at a turning point in our life.

Again.

In fact, when I think about it, there's only been about 18 solid months in the past 11 years I can look back on and say with confidence: "That was not a turning point in my life."

Most of this can be traced to brainwashing by YWAM, of course. Their seven mind-molders have effectively eliminated my need for what most humans know as "security." Once that's gone, all of a sudden you have unlimited possibility for what to do with your life. Fight sex trafficking in South Africa? Sure! Start a discipleship school in Portland? Sign me up. Move to some country I never heard of before yesterday? Not a problem.

Brainwashing aside, I'm fairly excited for this current turning point. I just have the feeling that it's got some momentum to it, like a big wrecking ball just waiting to be told where to swing.

The biggest factor that determines our next move is funding. If you had a chart, and had a level on it marked "Just Scraping By", we would be just below that level. Or possibly several levels below. The whole chart is hypothetical anyway, so the exact position is not that important. We just don't have enough money.

So that's what I'm spending my time doing, for the most part. Crafting heart-warming / -wrenching letters that will elicit funds from supporters for the next steps on our journey. Hopefully, it will prove successful and I can inform you more fully of what our next steps end up being.

-Luke

Reactivating!

So, this blog has been dead for a while, but no longer! Check in here for updates, thoughts, and stories to be posted regularly!