awe – Grace. Truth. Coffee.

20150720035244_IMG_6541 — God’s handiwork over the beach of Aracaju, Brazil early one morning.

She pushed right past my outstretched hand, ignoring my North American custom expressing openness at a distance. She placed her hand on my shoulder, her wise old eyes looking through mine into the hidden recesses of my soul. Her seasoned voice didn’t falter as she firmly said “obrigada, pastor.” After a quick embrace and kiss on the cheek, she slipped off into the crowd. Those words lingered briefly in my mind before settling into my soul.

“Who am I?” This question shapes our journey. Maybe that is our journey. Like a handshake, I’ve attempted to be open to it while also keeping a safe distance. Our circumstance and choices shape who we are. Even more, at our core we each have a unique design driving our direction. In our desire to fit in, it’s easy to hide from this design. It’s tempting to step into the crowd instead of into our destiny. .

This journey I’ve been on has been unique, to say the least. Not many computer security guys with existential tendencies fall headlong into a relationship with Christ at 32 after a lifetime of adamant atheism. When the relationship first took off I stepped fearlessly into it, letting God lead me anywhere He would like. My answer became, “Yes, God” before hearing the question.

20150719174058_IMG_6525-01 — Bringing the thunder. Aracaju, Brazil. 2015

This led to community-building, worship-leading, and mission trips. A few of these yesses also led to heartbreak and loss. They were worth it. The earth shook. We saw a glimpse of the Kingdom right here on earth. God was there through it all, sustaining me.

And now…God’s turning a new page. In this chapter, I’ve been reluctant to say yes. The calling doesn’t fit my qualifications.

Our first night in Aracaju, my pastor pulled me aside and asked, “would you rather preach the first service or last while we’re here?”

This hit me out of the blue. What? Me? But… don’t they usually get qualified people to do that?

That one question forced an internal confrontation I had been avoiding.

One of my “Yes, God” moments led me to seminary. I don’t know what He has planned, but I’ve trusted Him. Last January, the church licensed me. I can officially perform weddings now. So does that make me a…pastor? I wrestled with this for months. There is a weird mixture of high standards and heavy baggage associated with the title “pastor.”

I took the first service. I knew it would be smaller. Less pressure.

As I frantically prepared a sermon for an international congregation , I couldn’t help but reflect. From our hotel in Aracaju, my mind drifted back to Gravatai.

Prayers before preaching. Gravatai, Brazil 2013.

Two years earlier I had delivered my first sermon. I preached a lesson from Gideon from the pulpit of a chapel I helped build in 2011. This was before seminary. It was before chaplaincy. I taught about the purpose God had for Gideon. I explained that God built a potential into Gideon, which God would use. I told everyone that God had a plan, even if Gideon himself thought too little of himself to see it. How could I have forgotten? In His own way, God was providing a glimpse…foreshadowing things to come.

“Be the church.” That’s what our shirts said. That was the message of my sermon. To “be the church” is much more than showing kindness to others and helping the poor, widows, and orphans. Matthew 16 tells us that the gates of Hell will not prevail against the church. Gates are defensive, not offensive. Evil is on the run. Jesus didn’t intend for us to sit within the safety of our walls in the comfort of our pews. He intended for us to engage in warfare, taking on evil wherever we find it. Our weapons are not swords or guns, though. We are to fight using grace, compassion, self-sacrifice, and love. These weapons tear down gates, break chains, and set people free.

It went well. The band played “How He Loves” in English and Portuguese. It wrecked me. My own gates fell. My inner turmoil over my identity was far from my mind. And then the service was over. Everyone celebrated, hugged, and greeted each other.

I turned. That was when she spoke those words. “Obrigada, Pastor.” Thank you. Pastor.

God’s design for us is to stand out, not to fit in. Through us, He brings His kingdom to earth. The message to Gideon was “The Lord is with you, mighty warrior” (Judges 6:12). He told Jeremiah “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you…” (Jer 1:5) Our God-given purpose sits in the sweet spot that happens to be right outside our comfort zone.

Sometimes God calls us to step into an uncomfortable truth…one we didn’t expect. Maybe it’s even one we’ve avoided.

God seems to speak to me most clearly when I’m in Brazil. This year He affirmed a piece of my identity I had been denying, and He used a sweet old lady speaking in a foreign tongue to do it.

The truth is…I am a pastor.

I probably think about words more than a healthy person should (see: grace). Words matter to me. The end-of-year tradition of picking a word for next year is serious business! It’s a bizarre method of New Year Resolutions for readers, writers, dreamers, goal-setters, and visionaries: pick one word which will steer and shape the journey our year takes. The stakes are obviously quite high.

As I journeyed through the dark winter months of 2015, my focus continually returned to advent. As I pondered the “already/not-yet” tension of the season, I became aware of the absence of a feeling that once filled my perspective. I remembered it fondly and once again realized how bringing it is. It is amazing how profound, life-shaping feelings can just fade away. The familiar but faded-feeling was a sense of wonder.

When I found Christ at 32, my life became filled with wonder. The message of the Gospel was captivating. My thoughts were consumed with the possibilities… somehow this infant in a manger was the Son of God and savior of the world. My goodness…God had a son…just like me. Because of His deep love for us, He sent His son to the world to be raised by others, build close relationships, live out a ministry, stand falsely accused of blasphemy and treason, and then be unjustly and brutally murdered. As tragic as it appears, there was a beautiful purpose behind it all. God didn’t send an innocent baby into the world to be unjustly sacrificed for us…the Creator and Sustainer of all that is, was, and will ever be chose to enter creation to once-and-for-all make things right.

But the story didn’t end with the cross. He rose again, conquering death while proving he truly was who He claimed to be. He brought salvation for mankind. Chewing on these concepts left me wonderstruck. Each individual piece of the story bounced around inside my head, opening my mind to possibilities and implications. Yes, I had a million why questions, and I explored them. More deep than the questions was the profound wonder continuing to draw me deeper.

Wonder overflowed into the rest of my life. I stared into the depths of the night sky with new awe and appreciation. The people I met–both in the States and abroad–I saw with new eyes. They were brothers and sisters joining me on a journey, each with inherent dignity and value. Even the words I wrote and lessons I taught were fountains of awe and wonder, not because of my own insights and efforts, but instead with the ultimate source of it all. God.

I can’t tell you what changed over the years. Life goes on. It happens to all of us. We grow accustomed to the light we live in. Our eyes adjust. It becomes normal, routine, and monotonous.

I can give a thousand reasons. I’m so busy. In addition to my day job, I’ve been attending graduate school, doing public speaking, teaching, photographing, and trying to get a book written. That’s all in addition to being a father, husband, and friend. I’ve always been busy, though. It’s a lousy excuse.

The word and goal for 2016 is to appreciate and fall back into the wonder of it all…to be aware of the awe that surrounds us. The seasons come and go, as do our plans and goals. A perspective of child-like wonder at the universe we’re in, the people around us, and the God above us leads to an attitude of thankfulness and hope. It brings optimism and appreciation. It fuels our gratitude and unity with others.

I rediscover the wonder in life by interrupting my day. It happens when I watch our bird feeders or when I capture a sunset. I remember it when I read the Word without expectation. It happens when I notice.

How do you rediscover wonder?

Let’s do this together.