At one point, he commented on how many Christians are like Jesus' parents. We get so busy with things and people and commitments that sometimes things get lost in the shuffle. We're so busy trying to keep our eyes and minds fixed on a certain number of issues that need to be attended to, that certain other things get neglected. Rather like the passage in the gospels where Joseph and Mary forget that they have left their son behind, oftentimes we leave Jesus behind and don't even know it. In that passage, even though Jesus is found to be in the temple and he comments that he needed to be in his father's house and all, the mere fact they could leave him behind in the first place speaks volumes about where their minds were. And the way we often treat Jesus is much the same: we leave him at church. What's worse? We often don't even realize it.

I've been taking a look at my life in recent weeks and in light of my pastor's words this past week, I find myself trying to be more conscious of my choices and actions. I still make mistakes and fail--miserably--but I'm looking for ways to be more intentional about my faith and in my walk with Jesus. I realize in recent times I have not been putting the focus of my life on God first, and so there have been times where I have simply left him at church once the sermon was done. People make mistakes, but should this be one of ours? If we truly want others to know we are Christians, shouldn't bringing Him with us wherever we go be one of the hallmarks of the professing believer?

So, how about it? Are you going to take Jesus home from church with you this Sunday?

With all the noise in this world and the myriad distractions and responsibilities that can surround us, it's easy to get lost. It's even easier to not hear that still small voice that's always calling to us--even if we can't hear it. I know God has put me here to accomplish certain things, and that requires action on my part; but the flip side to that is he has also encouraged me to be still and know that he is God. He's encouraged all of us to do that. It's nice to be reminded of things you have forgotten; to me, it's further proof that Someone up there still loves me and thinks about me, even when I'm too busy to think about him.

My wish for myself this Christmas...? I want to hear God's voice when he speaks to me. My wish for all of you...? That you will want to hear his voice too. Merry Christmas.

I know this music video has been making the rounds on the Internet and such, but for those of you who appreciate music, music videos and/or both, and still have not yet seen this, you owe it to yourself to watch this video by a group called OK Go! To say this video is creative and spiffy somehow undersells it. Here's my sales pitch: it's rhythmic synchronized treadmilling at its best! Check it out!

In the latest bit of evidence that Myspace.com is not wholly evil, Giles Paley-Phillips--a poet from the United Kingdom--has informed me that all proceeds from his new collection of poems, Linear Hymns, will be donated to leukemia research. Here's a brief blurb from him about the inspiration for the book:

"It's a poetry book about myself looking at my life as a twenty-something man still trying to deal with the death of my mother to leukaemia when I was 6 years old. There are extracts from the book in my blogs and various links to other websites containing my work.

"If you want to purchase a copy of Linear Hymns go here and click on the buy now link, or alternatively go to Amazon. Thank you as always.

"If you go in my blogs there are a number of different links to sites confirming this project including the leukaemia research fund site, also on his website there is a statement from the leukaemia research fund confirming me as an endorsed fundraiser."

More updates and information can be found on his MySpace page.

I've been reading a lot of non-fiction lately, or at least it sure feels like I have. Non-fiction has never really been my thing, I don't mind admitting. It's always seemed to be a style of writing that's reserved for readers who think a book is their last hope for finding self-worth, and writers who are old and have lived fascinating lives (at least in their own eyes). I know it's overly general of me to feel that way, but it's that whole word-association thing. When someone says non-fiction, my first thought is somewhere between the latest memoir of a former president and any motivational book ever written by Tony Robbins. Or maybe Susan Powter with her "Stop the insanity!" shpeel. I'm realizing more and more though that sometimes those things we find strange and alien are more beautiful than we think they are, we just have to be ready to give them a chance.

Until recently, I had Donald Miller's bookBlue Like Jazz sitting on my computer desk. Just waiting to be read. And waiting. And waiting some more. I can't even recall how long it had been sitting there. I think I got it last Christmas, but since I also got about five other books around that time, I just never got around to reading it. The premise and bookjacket were both quite intriguing, and yet for some reason I just kept finding reasons to do, read or listen to something else. Despite my interest in the book's contents, it just wasn't the right time. But now that I have read the book, I am glad I did because some of its contents look at faith in ways that touch on feelings I and other Christians have often felt within themselves, like something is missing, like there's an uncomfortable feeling deep inside telling us something isn't quite right. Maybe I needed to be ready to hear his thoughts on life and faith and wasn't willing to listen before.

I temped with World Vision for 10 months this year and last, and one week Donald came to speak at one of our chapel services. I had heard much about his Blue Like Jazz book and some of the ideas it posed, and somehow I had concluded that the guy would be calm, collected, dressed somewhere between snazzy and metrosexual, and flashing a million-dollar smile. Instead, I saw a man who couldn't have been more of an Everyman if he tried. He dressed like someone who had fallen out of bed and woken up in the grunge era, his speech and manner suggested he was less than comfortable speaking to big audiences of strangers, and he didn't really even flow all that well as far as speakers go. Now that I've read his book however, and have seen a glimpse of the thoughts that are in his heart and mind, I realize that what I saw that day is the genuine article, the real thing. Author or not, popular or unknown, Miller is just a person like any of us, struggling to understand faith and how to live it out in this world. He told vignettes and dropped in nuggets of truth into his speech rather like he does in his book--in bites that seem to jump from hamburger to carrot to pate. There's something refreshing about that, about presenting yourself honestly to the world, even if it looks and sounds a bit awkward.

I've been learning to become more comfortable in my skin these past few years, accepting my faults and quirks and proudly displaying them like trophies so all can see how God has taken something ordinary and made it into something beautiful. Reading this book has reminded me that other believers have some of the same concerns with the modern church that I do--that we're by and large a social club that ignores the needy and panders to the rich, that we're not making a difference because we're too scared to be bold about the redeemed lives we have every right to claim, that many people who claim to be Christians don't have a clue what it means to truly follow Christ. And at the same time, it has reminded me that recognizing or even believing these things is not what matters, but rather it is finding a way to be an instrument of change in this world. If many churchgoers are clueless, who is going to give them a clue if mature believers don't say something? If people can't see the difference between a church and a networking session among friends, how will anyone wake up to the truth if no one opens their eyes? How will the unknowing find God unless we who profess to have salvation let the love that has been poured out on us pass on to them?

Faith looks different to everyone, even fellow Christians, but one thing is certain: as is said in the book of James, "faith without works is dead." It's not enough to say you are a Christian. In fact, I would suggest that saying you are a Christian ultimately means virtually nothing. How many times have you heard someone say that their life was changed because someone else said "I'm a Christian" and that suddenly made them want to fall to their knees and confess that Jesus is Lord? You haven't heard this because that's not how it works. People are going to be changed by God's love, and part of that process involves God's people--Christians--being the love He represents. People don't respond to the idea of God these days because when someone mentions God or Christianity, they think of judgmental personalities, The Crusades and guys like Pat Buchanan and Pat Robertson running their mouths. There's a reason people respond to someone like Mother Teresa and it's because she didn't have to say a word about being a Christian. Her actions spoke volumes more than all the words she did say, and that's how we ought to be as well.

My preconceived notions about Donald Miller were obliterated the moment I started to get a hint of insight into who he actually was and what he was thinking. People who don't believe in Christ won't have their minds and hearts changed unless they get to know a Christian culture and people that actually lives out what it claims to believe. But they won't ever get that far unless we start giving them a reason to want to get to know us, let alone God himself.

In December 2004, I reviewed Chris DeVore's debut novel, The Literary Detective, for Infuze Magazine. A puzzling story about myth, sports, God and why we tell the stories we tell, it read like a detective's messy desk as the gumshoe tries to solve the mystery. Too dense to be a disposable read, it didn't reach a very wide audience, which is a shame because it was a mindbender of a read. If you're a fan of thought-provoking literature, this one ranks higher than many of today's offerings.

DeVore's sophomore novel, Catching the Flathead Monster, will be releasing in October. The following is the blurb that appears on the back cover:

Catching the Flathead Monster tells six stories about three families and a hospital that connects them. The novel's narrators are at critical junctions in their lives: Levi Travis likes to write and doesn't know why he's at St. Joe's; Ruth Montana has cancer and other secrets; Mark Bugbear is a nurse whose first patient has been dead all day; Jacob Travis loves his son and doesn't believe in God; Lily Montana hides any happiness behind her eyes or in textbooks; and Ashley Bugbear has a young daughter and one sentence a day.

The truth is that in Polson, Montana, on the southern shore of Flathead Lake--surrounded by the Rockies--the Flathead Monster is as much to blame for their lives as the expansive sky. Who is to blame then? In what should they put their faith? And why do they contract diseases, suffer, die--and why do they survive?

Along with the release of humorist Bill Bryson's memoir, The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, this qualifies as one of the literary highlights for the month of October, so I encourage you to pre-order his book now!