I miss

• feeling like I can trust God with anything

• having the confidence of Paul rather than the doubts of Thomas

• my dad’s handkerchief, which seemed magically to appear before the first tear reached my cheek

• God’s joy and presence

• being contented with what I know about God rather than feeling as though I’m missing something

• waking up each day with anticipation and excitement for what adventures the day may hold

Scenes from a recent party

Princess Conner, 4

Korynn, 2

Bert and Jack, 9 mos.

Tyler and Korynn

Old Time Evangelism

Dear lost person

I am concerned for the state of your eternal soul. Have you ever asked Jesus into your heart? No, not your literal heart. I mean your spiritual heart. Yes? Oh good. So you remember every detail about the day you repeated a prayer being led by a certified, licensed Christian. No? Oh dear.

Well surely you at least continued on the path of Christianity by distancing yourself from everyone who could possibly be a bad influence on you, right? I mean, at this stage you’re just a fledgling believer who easily could be misled back to sin and degradation. It might help me to take a peek at your journal to see how closely you’ve followed Jesus’ sayings. What do you mean you don’t have a journal? Didn’t they teach you about writing down your revelations, prayer requests and thoughts about God? And questions don’t count because, as believers, we’re not supposed to question – just accept.

Well, this is truly a sad state of affairs. We may need to take you through a refresher on the Four Spiritual Laws and the ordinance of journaling. It might help, too, for you to go ahead and move out of your neighborhood and find a nice, quiet convent in which to meditate, grow and develop into a fine spiritual leader. You can practice sharing your 5-minute testimony on the deer.

Why I Believe

I've been thinking more about my earlier post and thought I'd share with you part of my journey. I came to the conclusion fairly early in life that there had to be a God. How else do you explain the complexities of life and existence? But how do I make the jump from being an agnostic to being a Christian? Well, I tend to be more analytical than I'd like to admit. See, I know that there were a bunch of guys who faced excruciating deaths because they refused to tell the world that Jesus was a hoax. These men had seen Jesus up close and personal, and even in the face of death they could not deny His existence or character.

What would compel men to forsake all to profess faith in another person? Only the truth: that the other man truly was the Son of God sent to die for the sins of mankind. I can't imagine men accepting torture and death if they knew that Jesus was a hoax. So something about Him must have convinced them to follow Him, even to their own deaths.

But this is my sad confession - perhaps even blasphemous. My faith in God is based more on what I know about Him than what I've experienced. I can't really say I've seen God intervene in an impossible situation and completely turn it around. I don't even know if I could say I've seen a life dramatically transformed by God's presence. And, here come's the blasphemy, I'm not sure I've ever "felt" God like other people say they have.

This saddens me because I want to be someone who testifies of God based on what I've experienced. Unfortunately, after 20 some years of following Him the best I can say is that I follow Him because the evidence has convinced me that there is no other alternative.

Why Believe in God?

Researchers at the University of Oxford are preparing to launch a 3-year study to determine why people believe in God. They want to know whether "belief in a divine being is a basic part of mankind's makeup."

I've never considered the thought that God might not exist. I've met some atheists who challenged me to prove there is a God (like I could), but more interesting would be to see if they could prove He doesn't exist. I've heard many people say they don't believe in a god because if there was one then there wouldn't be the suffering and brokenness we see.

Let's suppose they're right, then. The world's brokenness proves there is no god. But there's still brokenness, poverty, and suffering - so who do we blame now? Greedy people? Indifference? Why can't we blame these attitudes and people for the wrong in the world and still believe there's a god? I guess people want to believe there is a god who would intervene to correct the wrongs in life, but stay out of our business when we want to live according to our own desires and plans. Kind of like a part-time god.

Giant Triumph

Mike is a life-long Giants fan, just like his mum, so last night was quite an evening of celebration in the Conner house.

Early in the game, he was not a happy camper

Our man Eli

Later in the game, Mike couldn't bear to watch

Die-hard fan

History of a knee

About 2 years ago, Mike underwent knee surgery to remove a portion of his Meniscus that was torn while playing indoor soccer. He never recovered full mobility in his knee, and eventually also tore his ACL while playing football. Last week, Mike went in to have ACL reconstructive surgery on his left knee.

Mike waiting for surgery

Recovering post-op

Still sleeping

His new knee

Missing are photos of Mike while recovering at home because, well, he's had a rough recovery. Doctor put him on Diladid - which does a great job at masking the pain but it comes with some nasty side effects. Day 2 after the surgery, Mike was plagued with shakings, heart palpitations, visual hallucinations, panic, nausea and dizziness. Today has been MUCH better. Mike even ventured out for a field trip to Target :) He begins physical therapy tomorrow, and the surgeon is hoping to have him jogging within 10 weeks.

Stupid Scientists

Last week, scientists released a breakthrough study that showed women who consumed 2 or more cups of joe a day were twice as likely to have miscarriages. I'm not pregnant (yet) but hoping that this will change in the near future, I decided I should start weaning myself off the euphoric liquid. To say I'm addicted to caffeine is such an understatement. BUT, last week I cut back to 1 cup of coffee, half regular and half decaf, and 2 more cups of decaf. Maybe I can trick my body into not noticing it's missing it's daily dose of joy.

Emergency Prayer Request

Today I received an email saying a friend who is in Afghanistan was taken hostage while riding in a car in Kandahar. Her name is Cyd - she's a single lady serving there with the Asian Rural Life Development Foundation. She has been there for 3 years teaching English and embroidery at a girl's school. Please pray for the safe return of Cyd and her driver, who also was taken hostage. 

Strolling through the valley

This has been an emotional week. Yesterday was my boss' last day in the office :( He was supposed to be here through the end of the week, so I wasn't expecting to have to say goodbye yesterday. Today me and a co-worker will have lunch with my boss' wife, but then she, too, is leaving the office. I hate goodbyes.

Also, I found this website Confessions of a CF Husband, about a husband and wife's journey through Cystic Fibrosis and the birth of their first child, Gwyneth. While the story may initially sound sad, I have drawn great encouragement and strength by reading about their unshakable faith in the midst of such uncertainty. You should zoom over there to read about Gwyneth Rose, Tricia, Nathan and Spider Pug.

One of the neat-o things about God is that just this week I've been struggling with the concept of prayer, it's importance and purpose, and if it really even matters. I don't approach this question with a fatalistic attitude, but it's birthed out of curiosity about how the simple words voiced from an insignificant person can affect history or influence almighty God. Nathan's transparency regarding his faith and trust in God despite the circumstances has challenged and encouraged me.

The tortures of childhood

My niece, Korynn, just turned 2 years old. Too bad this is what she'll probably remember from that day :)

Thanksgiving with the Jarvises

Ok, so my family is odd. They always have been and always will be - and I kind of like it that way. Here are some photos of me, Brandon (25), Ashton (19) and my parents.

Wilderness Adventure

Mike is indulging his wilderness man by taking me camping this weekend. We originally planned to rough it by sleeping in a tent we could carry on our backs, and hiking several trails with a full backpack. I believe he envisioned this as being our first training session for someday hiking the AT. Thankfully, sanity prevailed and instead we’ll be sleeping on an air mattress and hiking with a day pack.

Still though, I’ll be running if I hear any banjos.

PS - If Mike had his way, I think we'd look like this:

For anyone who knows my boss

This announcement was on our company's frontpage website. We're getting quite a kick out of it!

Is Optimism Bad?

I’m reading a book called God on Mute, where the author talks about that frightening topic of why God sometimes appears to be mute. Silent. Distant. The author devotes a section of the book to explaining why God sometimes doesn’t answer our prayers.

The author offers several explanations for why prayers go unanswered, but one of his theories is that life is meant to be hard. He tells the story of a poor sap who encounters several crushing blows – his daughter is sick, he begins to develop a debilitating disease, he is in danger of losing his job, etc. The author asks the guy how he copes without losing faith in God, and the man says something like, “The moment I accepted that life isn’t easy or fair, and that it’s a tough struggle, then I didn’t experience disappointment when bad things happened.”

This is a difficult concept for me. I refer to myself as an eternal optimist, and some days my hope that things will get better is the only thing that sustains me. To give up on this hope and accept that things won’t get better, or that they may get better just before getting bad again, seems defeating, depressing and gloomy. Being an optimist isn’t easy. At least once a month, my expectations and hope endure a jarring shake. I then need a day to recover, rethink my expectations, and get back to the business of hoping for a better day tomorrow.

So, should we lower our expectations for this life and expect the worse? Should we be more surprised when good things happen rather than when bad happens?

Looking Past the Mirage

There's a scene in X-Men 2 when one mutant tries to convince another mutant he is seeing something that doesn't exist. The mirage is very believable - complete with the right atmosphere, characters, voices and script. The problem is, of course, is that it's fake.

Sometimes I think the enemy uses a similar tactic against followers of Jesus. He attempts to paint a picture of doom and gloom, and he uses real characters, situations or comments to create a false reality. Unfortunately, it's all too easy to fall for his version of life rather than to look to the One who gives true hope and life.

One Bible writer described faith as "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen." If I were to define faith I'd say it was "willfully refusing to look at the things and situations around us and opting to look at and trust God."

Or, as one band said, "when you don't understand, when you can't see His plan, when you can't trace His hand, trust His heart."

Broken Boxer

God

You know I have carefully crafted my castles and have defended them from attack. I guarded, protected, defended and flailed against all perceived enemies who sought to destroy my plans, dreams or expectations. Sadly, I even fought against you.

I said with my mouth, “Thy will be done,” yet I maintained a tight grip on my creation and destination. I intended to move ahead in the direction I decided, and was willing to push against any mountain that blocked my path.

And then I remembered. You said faith could move a mountain, not my strength. You said God guides our steps, not my determination. You have asked if I will trust you and I have responded with a half-hearted “I guess so.”

But I know I can’t bribe you into relenting, nor can I threaten you with silence or abandonment. I have to submit. I have to relent. I have to quit fighting and pushing against you.

God, help me to take off the gloves and to leave them on the table. Help me to mean it when I say, “I trust you and I’ll follow you no matter what.” Forgive me for yelling at you, cursing you and despising you just because you won’t do what I ask when I ask. My head tells me that your plan is better than mine – help my heart to believe this, too.

Saddness = Not Enough Coffee

I’m addicted to coffee. I’ve heard that admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, and one lovely lady spent months lecturing me about the dangers of caffeine so I’m sure this will make her happy. She also swore that smoothies make for nice substitutions when the brain begins craving coffee, but that’s nonsense.

The thing is, though, if something as innocent and widely-available like coffee makes me feel good, tastes good and helps others (like coffee-bean growers), then how can it be so bad? And if the benefits outweigh the negative, then shouldn’t I just go with it and ignore the symptoms of an addition: cravings; headaches and irritability when detoxing; daydreams about lovely brown cups holding rich, aromatic liquid joy?

I’m afraid to analyze this question because I’m afraid it’ll lead to deeper introspection about other addictions in my life, like my addiction to speed and adrenaline (hurry, hurry, don’t slow down!); my need for me-time, at the expense of shutting out developing relationships; my craving to control situations around me and the terror I feel at letting go; and my flesh’s insistence that I think about me and my entitlements, plans and desires.

See, this is why I shouldn’t think about my dependence on coffee …

Unknown purpose

Years ago, I went to India. I was following in my college friends' footsteps, all of whom raved about their time in Kota. So I went. And I hated.

Unbeknownst to me, the group I connected with was a singing group who spent the entire trip traveling around town giving impromptu concerts. I, along with a handful of others, were left to either stay at the orphanage or play the role of groupies. But even the orphanage was difficult to stomach. The children didn't appear to be living in conditions much better than the homeless children, and so many of the children told stories about sleeping with rats that I cringed whenever I visited them in their rooms.

The day after I returned from India I contracted a weird bug and lost my voice for a week. I remember thinging, "Why did I waste the time and money on such a miserable experience?" Ah, yes, fond memories.

But the strangest thing happened last week. I was talking with my Indian neighbors about an upcoming Indian festival, and I mentioned that I had visited Kota. The wife immediately opened up to me and began sharing stories about Indian culture, tips on Indian restaurants, and invitations to drop by for authentic curry. She also invited us to this weekend's festival and promised to introduce us to all her friends.

I've lived here for two years and had yet to have a meaningful conversation with this neighbor. I'd never have thought God would have used my college trip to Kota as a bridge to a (hopefully) fruitful friendship.

The Conners

Back row: Chris, me, Mike, Bert and Kelly (holding Korynn)

Front row: Shannon (holding Jack), momma Bunny (holding Conner) and Tyler

Tyler holding Korynn

Conner holding Jack

Six-year newlyweds