get this book

I just finished leftovers from last night's Sami's Gyro, a huge undertaking of Greek goodness.

At the table, I was re-reading parts of Cam's new memoir, The Year I Got Everything I Wanted: A Spiritual Crisis. It's a loose parallel of Ecclesiastes, how a year filled with promises (new job/city/girlfriend) ultimately couldn't fulfill.

Cam landed me the internship and pointed me toward the community that jump started life for me here. We started meeting at Sami's during the summer of 2004, while both of us were in the midst of personal crisis of one kind or another. He has become a boss turned mentor turned friend. Last summer, he invited me to Europe--the book is a journey leading up to his decision--which proved to be a life-changing experience for both of us.

Cam is a gifted, honest writer well worth your time; check out his blog and pick up his book.

Our Global God: The Journey to Africa

In November of last year I met Ted, a white-haired man in his mid-eighties who used to live at the elderly home we visit each month. Ted was in WWII, stationed in Germany as a machine gunner. A fellow soldier was shot in battle, falling into his arms, but Ted “kept him quiet” until the firestorm stopped, then hauled him to the back lines, saving his life.

“I never knew who he was, but he lived,” Ted said. [Rescue.]

Ted told me the story of how his pastor gave him a verse before he went overseas. During our Christmas visit, I followed Ted to his room where he flipped through his Bible. His WWII verse was Psalm 91:7. “A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you.”

Ted made it out of WWII without even a scratch. [Protection.]

Last spring, I wrote a worship song about Ted’s experience entitled “Rescue,” based on Psalm 91. During a Tuesday night church community gathering, where we were sending a team of nine missionaries to Zimbabwe, we played the song for the first time.

Afterwards, Craig, our American missionary leader who has established Vital Connections, a long-standing ministry in Zimbabwe with his wife Teresa, thought to himself, “That song is for Africa.” A friend asked for the chords and lyrics, and days later, I recorded a rough demo and sent it with the team on an iPod to Zimbabwe.

When the team returned, they reported great news about their experience, including how “Rescue” had taken on a life of its own during worship in Africa, how it had ministered to the people of Zimbabwe.

It continues to this day, and Simon, a worship leader in Zimbabwe, hopes to have it published. [God.]

Zimbabwe is facing an incredible crisis. Once one of Africa’s most profitable countries with stable crops and economy, a series of events have turned it into one of the world’s poorest nations. With the world’s highest inflation rate, a mounting AIDS crisis, unthinkable unemployment rates, malnutrition and food shortages, the country is in desperate need of rescue.

Following a series of unusual, ordained appointments, I’ve decided to join a missionary team of six headed to Zimbabwe in November 2007. We will spend our two weeks leading a youth conference to equip young Christian leaders, visiting a children’s ministry, working and worshiping alongside Zimbabwe Christians to further the Kingdom of God and share the love of Christ. [Unity.]

In the spring, I had an idea about creating a documentary on the world’s churches. Though this may not be part of that larger picture, one of my primary roles on the Zimbabwe team will be taking video and digital cameras to document the experience of Zimbabwe’s Christians. Though, inevitably, this experience will change and challenge us on the team, it is about unity in the Body of Christ: beyond cultural barriers, beyond rich and poor, beyond black and white. [Reconciliation.]

Over the past year, I’ve had the privilege of being self-employed, running a video production company and freelance writing. I’m confident all of this is connected; both with the freedom of a flexible schedule, as well as the ability to document this journey. Part of my calling is “to live and tell stories,” realizing this story has already spread over three continents. I’m confident God will use the humble efforts of people working in art and media to further expand His Kingdom. [Jehovah Jireh.]

The global Christian church has awakened to the great needs in Africa, and we are all part of that movement. “The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ.” (1 Corinthians 12:12)

The trip will take place from November 28, 2007 to December 13, 2007, concluding with a two-day stay at Victoria Falls, one of the Seven Great Wonders of the World.

I’ve experienced God’s provision in amazing ways over the past 18 months, challenging me, humbling me, and opening my eyes to the greatness of our God. I look forward to this journey with eager anticipation of God’s continued movement.

If you’re interested in helping through prayer or tax-deductible donations, please email me (aaroncarriere [at] gmail.com). Thank you for your prayers and support, words fall short to express my gratitude. Please call or email, or follow the journey (though communication during the trip may be limited) on the blog.

In the grace of God,

-Aaron

Prayer Requests for Zimbabwe:

• Rising up and strengthening of Zimbabwe leaders and the African church.
• Relief from AIDs, inflation and poverty.
• Global unity in the Body of Christ.
• Eternal impact for all involved.
• Effective planning on trip’s short notice.
• Safety and protection for the missions team.
• God’s continued movement through new media.

light

God is so good to us, even when we're not good to Him. At times I find myself slipping back toward the misconceptions of the Jesus of my youth, where performance was kin to godliness, where burden and yoke were heavy. But our God is light.

switchfoot: the economy of mercy

There's just two ways to lose yourself in this life
And neither way is safe
In my dreams I see visions of the future
But today we have today
And where will I find You?

In the economy of mercy
I am a poor and begging man
In the currency of Grace
Is where my song begins
In the colors of Your goodness
In the scars that mark Your skin

In the currency of Grace
Is where my song begins

These carbon shells
These fragile dusty frames
House canvases of souls
We are bruised and broken masterpieces
But we did not paint ourselves
And where will I find You?

Where was I when the world was made?
Where was I?

I'm lost without You here
Yes, I'm lost without You near me
I'm lost without You here
You knew my name when the world was made

missing ted

The old folk’s home was missing Ted tonight. He finally convinced his daughter he was capable of living on his own, and went home. After meeting Ted ten months ago, I wrote that he didn't belong there. His brother had been living at the home, but he passed away this winter.

Over the past year, we witnessed Ted lose a few steps and forget a little easier, and I'm not sure he should be on his own.

But I sense he's happier at home, where Kathy says he can work on carpentry projects and stay busy. Ted has become more than a man we met with every month, the stories he shared with us about his life have traveled continents, a catalyst to a greater story.

So, without Ted answering his cell phone call from his daughter, which happened every night like clockwork, we screeched out hymns as usual with the veterans: Dave, Lois and Hazel. I value the deep lyrics and reverence of old hymns, but the keys are largely inaccessible with wide vocal ranges. It creates an interesting mix for the ears.

That's when Korn turns to me and says, "Is this in the key of dog pitch?"

And I almost died laughing. Fighting back tears. Then Lois called Korn and I turkeys. But she smiled and said that life is about enjoying it; she's enjoyed every minute of hers.

Ted is enjoying his. And we should enjoy ours.

balance

For the second week in a row, I find myself at the coffee house around the corner. Last week I spilled my guts on the keyboard, and it came out like this:

I work from home. Sometimes I’m at home and I don’t work. When I hit these times, I need to get out.

So I find myself at a coffee shop, though it’s too late in the day for caffeine. I wear a wrist brace; a friend said recently that our dedication to our craft(s) will cost us something physically.

But sometimes I’m not dedicated, I’m just wasting time and it looks like work.

I’m so tired of sitting in front of this computer.

Maybe that’s why I’m at the coffee shop.

Because I want to see other people.

Sometimes if you work in your own house and do your own thing, you start to think that the world is about you, even though you know it’s not. It’s hard not to get trapped in that kind of narcissism.

So I’m here in search of new ideas.

When an idea person runs of ideas, they find themselves at a coffee shop, wondering what everyone else does. There’s a girl wearing a purple dress working on a MacBook. I bet she does something creative like graphic design. There’s a dude wearing medical scrubs, and I bet he saves people’s lives. An old man across from me underlines notes in a thick book, while a beautiful looking girl sits across the table from her gray-haired grandfather, talking and smiling. I don't know what they do, but they are enjoying themselves.

Now this morning, at this same coffee shop, I have to fill out a survey for a business thing I'm doing, and it's all about me. What I think my strengths and weaknesses are, what sort of goals I want to set. Then an expert will evaluate me and give me various life pointers. The survey even says this: "Have a Balanced Life Which Works Well: Because You Designed It Selfishly."

Yikes. Welcome to America. Home of the ____.

(another) shameless plug

www.YesterdogDocumentary.com

where lyrics come from

When I read the Psalms, I often don't identify with the words. The war imagery, the persecution, the seemingly endless lists of enemies, the troubles of the time I don't encounter.

At other times, it's like I wrote them myself.

Words harness the great power to build up or tear down. "From the same mouth come both blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be this way," James 3:10 warns us.

We all identify with those words.

And I find the lyrics come alive at the strongest times, of desperation, of elevation, in midnight hours and restless mornings. I even go to sleep, and when I wake, the lyrics are still there.

Finally, I pick up the instrument, and it's like it plays itself.

The words fit, matching the melody.

It's another Psalm for another day.

whistle (or smoke) while you work

Life has been less-than-funny over the past few weeks. But right now, perched at my computer in my home-office, I sit here with a smile.

Our lawn guy is smoking while cutting the grass. He's really efficient, both at smoking and lawn care. A cigarette dangles in his mouth, one hand periodically removes it for an oxygen break; the other steadily guides the grass machine. For him, it seems like all is well with the world. It’s like whistling while you work.

And for some odd reason, this makes me laugh.

Even though I know smoking is bad.

mistakes

in an imperfect world, we often fail. we make mistakes. they always affect others.

it can be as simple as a type-o, or as complex as damaging a lifelong relationship.

as much as we'd like to, we can't always fix what's been done.

all we can mutter is “i'm sorry,” and do our best to help pick up the pieces.

mosquitoes (let me sleep)

4:25 a.m.

lights on.

light buzzing.

“mosquitoes.”

three of them.

two of them.

one of them.

none of them.

4:52 a.m.

lights out.

lie in our graves

"Thus men will lie on their backs, talking about the fall of man, and never make an effort to get up." --Henry David Thoreau

lois (she plays piano)

in a room filled with laughing youth
she plays the electric keys

she offers songs to the Lord
written on the tablet of her heart

wrinkled hands dance along imitation ivories
yet move softly in a symphony of grace

she learned first as a child
her father by her side

but in old age the sage
nears perfection, completion

she remembers the golden years
while the rock of ages

clefts for us