So, I've been trying to stay up to my challenge that I presented at the end of "murdering mediocrity with a pen" and to tell the truth, its not going as well as I hoped. I think I'm one of those peoples that get caught up in these great and magnificent ideas and rave about it to the world in eloquent words, then I do nothing about it. I think I'm becoming a politician.

I am also one of those people who constantly, constantly, constantly think about what other people are thinking about me. Even when I pray, I shut my eyes real tight and get a concentrated look on my face, just in case there might be one person who has his/her eyes open and is trying to see what expression I'm wearing and whether or not I look like I'm genuinely praying-most of the time I am, but other times I'm not thinking about what God is thinking about me. I'm too concerned about looking so "Christian". Of course, God did not call us to look Christian. He calls us to be Holy. And being Holy is being set apart. And when you're set apart, you don't give a patooty about what other people think about you.

Let's take meals in the caf. for instance. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I usually eat lunch by myself because all of my friends have it at noon (F.Y.I. I hate eating lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays). Well, I've been having this feeling that since I have no one to talk to at these quiet, boring meals-I ought to start praying for my food before I start eating-just as I should before every meal like I did at home. But I didn't pray before in high school in the caf.-no one ever prays before their meal at high school-not even at most christian schools I think. So, why should this caf. be any different. Well, for one thing-my caf. just so happens to be owned and frequently visited by Christians. Anyway, I decided I might try and pray at today's meal. But I couldn't do it-not really anyway. I bowed my head, but just enough to look like I was just really intent on staring at my food. That, and my prayer lasted all of half a minute. Wow, that's dedication.

So, I'm not so good at throwing caution into the wind-in fact I'm pretty bad at it. I am one of those people who think things through at least three times before I do them-I analyze everything-just to make sure I don't get in trouble. I get crazy every now and then-but not to the point where people think I'm obnoxious (at least I hope no one thinks I'm obnoxious)or that someone will yell at me. That coupled with my super-sensitivity to what other people think of me creates a very self-conscientious person who is letting himself get in the way of living a wonderfully radical life.

Now I ask you-please pray for me as I try to throw caution into the wind.

I had the weirdest dream last night...

That's how these tales usually go. For me, this phrase is a usual part of my morning. My sisters can both attest, I do have weird dreams-and if I don't tell someone about my dream than I will go crazy.

So, here I am telling the world about my dream.

A dream that was both great and terrible.

I can't really remember the beginning of the dream...I guess dreams really never have a beginning, they just begin somewhere in the middle of a story, randomly in the order of events. We all know a dream ends, but it doesn't finish. We always seem to cut them short by waking up. Who knows, would they even finish if we slept for a hundred years?

The first thing I remember was a church. An abandoned, ruined and decrepit church. I was digging for something in the dirt: a box. I found the box, but did not open it. Maybe I did open, but I have no idea what the content of the box was. Don't even ask me why I was digging for it.

Whatever the reasons were, I remember the feeling. I was scared and kept looking over my shoulder. I kept making sure they didn't find me. The character Wesley from the Princess Bride was keeping watch for me, making sure who ever I was afraid of didn't find me. At least, it was a man dressed in Wesley's black uniform, blond hair and black mask, with a black-gloved hand on the hilt of his saber. We were both afraid, but very brave for finding the box.

The world was like the church. Desolate. It was desert wastelands for as far as the eye could see. No life. No green. Just a whole lot of burnt dirt. I knew I was in a dystopia future earth.

A hovercraft picked me and my Princess Bride-fanatic-watchman up just outside of the church. A hovercraft much like the one in the Matrix series. But this would give that hovercraft a run for its money. The one of my dream looked battered and well-used on the outside, but it was much bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. On the inside was all sorts of high-tech gadgetry that was sleek, smart and cool. There were all sorts of smart-looking tech whizzes that were typing away at their computers. All of them were making sure we were not going to be found. I guess you could say rebels. Rebels against what? I'm not entirely sure.

I always make generalizations about my dreams-just to give them some sort of order. Perhaps it is stupid, trying to give a dream a sense of order when scientists say its just jumble of thoughts. But then why do dreams always seem to have a plot?

As the dream progressed, I learned who I was so afraid of. Invaders. Alien invaders. They came to our planet and seized control of it within a matter of minutes. The tech whizzes pull up massive screens onto the walls of this hovercraft. The kind of screens shown in a omni movie theater. Screens meant to shake you. And shake me they did.

One screen showed dark clouds rolling across the sky. Long, black towers descended from these clouds out of the air, slamming down into the ground below. The towers destroyed whatever was below them. The next screen showed the invaders themselves. They didn't look like aliens ought to look. They looked like humans, except that they were all eight, nine feet tall. Like the nephilim from the Bible. A brute, powerful and cunning race. The screen showed a nine-foot tall woman, who wore a black cloak, with a hood pulled over the top half of her face. She was old, very old. But you could tell she had some sort of authority. Her voice was grave, but stone cold. The screen showed her standing before the U.N., with others of her race standing behind her, also cloaked. They had taken over the world, the U.N. had surrendered.

The next screen showed their leader. A Julius Caesar-like character who stood looking straight into camera, with all sorts of pride and glory. He too was old, but instead of a black cloak he wore a white, billowing cloak. And no hood. He did wear a golden laurel leaf crown. He stood at, like, ten feet tall, at the foot of one of those dark towers. They had won, we had lost.

What was so weird-but this dream was so much more real than all of my other dreams. So much more vivid, but the screens were so strange. So real-looking. The last shot of the dream was that screen with the alien emperor, looking straight into the camera. All pride and glory. I also remember hearing a beeping noise-I think they had found us.

Then I woke up. Just how they always end.

Well, thanks for listening to me about my dreams.

Satan loves a mediocre Christian.

That's what my mom always told me. I've even heard it from a few preachers. My mom tells me this line almost as much as she tells me I need to start working out more and stop eating junk food.

Satan loves a mediocre Christian.

It has such a weird ring to it. I mean, does Satan actually feel accomplished when he comes across a Christian defined as 'mediocre'?

Well, yes.

It's a scary thought. A very scary thought. How many of us Christians-those Christians who have grown up literally since birth in the church, knowing the hymns so well we could sing them backwards with our tongues tide in a knot, having recited John 3:16 so well that its lost the amazingly, spectacular power it has to inspire the exact opposite of what we know as 'mediocrity'.

So, here's another 3:16 verse that also preaches against mediocrity:
"But since you are like lukewarm water, neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth!" (Revelation 3:16)

Lukewarm=Mediocrity. Hence, Satan loves a mediocre Christian. He wins your soul thanks to mediocrity.

Sometimes I hear friends who, like me, have grown up in the church their whole lives complain about how they wished that they hadn't been born into the church. That they had been converted later on in life. Converted by some sort of great and life-changing event that completely turned their world upside down. Something exciting. I think for those of us who have grown up going to church three times a week, going to a christian private school, or a living a combination of those two, we find our 'walk' with God to be not-so-exciting. Probably, because we're not really walking with God. We're moving our feet, but we're not going anywhere. Kinda like running in place. We go through all of these motions-sing the songs as loud as you can, have a perfect attendance record, bow your head and act like you're praying really hard, read the Bible, but don't actually listen to it.

We get so used to church and Christianity, that we actually get comfortable running in place. It's safe, easy and you don't know what really lies ahead, so you kinda hang back. It scares you. So you stay in one spot-safely living in mediocrity. Too bad you look like a complete idiot just running in place, while everyone else is off having grand adventures just a few feet ahead. We hear about the adventures, listen to them in church from the safety of our maroon pews, smiling at the wonders they've done and cry at their sorrow-filled tales. We even have dreams of going to those far away places, spreading God's word and being a Holy Warrior. Too bad we are so stinkin' comfy in our little boxes called mediocrity to do anything.

So, here I am. I feel like I'm running in place on the right road, but going nowhere. The grand adventure in sight, but too afraid to reach it. And its all because I've gotten stuck in this tight little box. I am very comfortable with my near-perfect chapel-attendance record, A+ in Bible and church-going attitude. Sitting in my little box of comforts, perfectly content to think that I've got my eternity packed and ready for an endless vacation. And yet, there are thousands upon thousands upon thousands living outside my box who are in possession of a one-way ticket to a place too terrifying to describe-a place that is literally God forsaken. And here I am, at Harding University where I have so many opportunities, and I've done so little about them. And before I know, that little box I've gotten so used to can become a lock-tight cage. A cage packaged and ready for an express lane to damnation.

So...How do I break free of mediocrity?

How do I break free of this little comfort zone I've gotten my-self into? I don't want to grow up into someone boring. Someone who is content to never leave the borders of a small, middle-of-nowhere town working at a desk job in a stuffy cubicle struggling to find meaning in my life. Someone who attends a local church only concerned with Sunday appearances, perfect attendances and sermons that make us feel all snuggly and warm in our little boxes. Now I don't know about you, but that sounds like hell.

What I want to do is write. I want write about anything and everything. I want the world to hear my voice in the black text lines of a white page. I want the world to hear me scream "HA-ZAA" in a best-seller, in a thousand different languages. I want to take the world by surprise, as art should and do. I want to travel to the corners of the world, see what wonders God has hidden in the deep places of his great, green earth. I don't want to just write fun fantasy novels that fit the way over-done Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings mold anymore. I want to write about the spectacular wonders of this reality. I want to write about God.

I don't want the world to see God as some white-bearded, ultra-conservative republican who sits way up in the clouds with an annoyed expression hurling lightning bolts to those who don't do what he wants. I want to show him like William P. Young does in the Shack. Not as simply the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. But as the Pappi, the Big Brother, and the Best-Friend. Someone who can rock your world, change your life, make things interesting. Keep in mind, he can still hurl lightning bolts if he feels like it. Luckily for us, he rarely ever feels like it. He would much rather hurl little love-notes and simple joys. It makes the world a better place.

I just have to keep in mind to write for God. Not for me. If I write for me, I become prideful. And, as everybody knows, pride comes before the fall. In fact, pride came before The Fall. It came before the Fall of Satan and his demons. Before the Fall of Adam and Eve. Before the Fall of Babel. The Fall of the Israelites in the Assyrian/Babylonian/Roman captivity. The Fall of the greatest empires. The Fall of countless human beings. Pride, as anyone can see, is much worse than mediocrity.

So, I've decided to murder mediocrity with a pen. I am going to bash its head with a keyboard. Blow it away in a whirl-wind of ink-stained papers. I have to leave fear and comfort in the dust. I've got to stop looking like an idiot and actually start running, instead of pretending. Every good story needs good material, good material needs great experience and a wild imagination. I think I've got the imagination-now I just need the experience.

Well, Reader, here's my challenge to you and me. Say no to simplicity. Stop reading the Bible and start listening to it. Quit mediocrity like a bad girl-friend and start flirting with danger, excitement, and adventure. Throw caution into the wind and let God catch you as you fall. Dare to be truly different.

So, I was checking up on Marvel.Com, as I usually do everyday to get my fill of what's going on in the super hero universe (DCcomics.com gives you absolutelu nothing) and I found out something quiet interesting.
Not only will Spider Man be showing off his legendary web-slinging skills, but he'll also show the world just how well he can sing, on stage. On the big bad Broadway.
That's right, Spider Man is coming to Broadway and it WILL be a musical.

Title: Spider Man-Turn off the Dark

The story will follow the basic story line of Spider man's origin: dorky, little Peter Parker who gets bit by a radioactive spider and becomes one of the greatest super heroes known to man. It will include familiars like Uncle Ben, Aunt May, the lovely Mary Jane, as well as some new faces and new places. This is a musical based on the comic book series, not the movie.
And they are pulling out all of the stops for this new adventure. The musical will be directed by Julie Taymor, who directed The Lion King and Across the Universe. And then, there's Bono. Yes, the Bono. Bono is creating the songs and lyrics along the with the famous band, the Edge, to make this a masterpiece. Or at least something that will be remembered for a long time.
I can understand a lot of people being upset by this. A lot of comic fans who hate musicals and hate theaters. But then again, art is always about taking the the world by surprise. Though this is an extremely bold endeavor-I think they can pull it off. This show could very well be the next Wicked.
Now, what would be bad if the musical industry jump-started a band wagon and began making a whole slew of comic book musicals. Kinda like Hollywood is doing (which Hollywood can do). Another bad thing would be if Broadway decided to sex up Spider-man, kinda like their other shows, which would be an absolute abomination to the Spider-man name.
Well, good luck Broadway and please, please, please don't make it too corny.

I have never, ever heard one bad thing said about the brilliant and wise C.S. Lewis.
His ideas are just so great-and I would love to write just like he does-witty, wise and wonderfully.
I think if God has favorite writers-C.S. Lewis is one of them.
Here are some quotes that I absolutely love and I hope you do too.

-A man can no more diminish God's glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word, 'darkness' on the walls of his cell.

-A man who is eating or lying with his wife or preparing to go to sleep in humility, thankfulness and temperance, is, by Christian standards, in an infinitely higher state than one who is listening to Bach or reading Plato in a state of pride.

-Education without values, as useful as it is, seems rather to make man a more clever devil.

-I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.

-If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning: just as, if there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never know it was dark. Dark would be without meaning.

-If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.

-There are two kinds of people: those who say to God, "Thy will be done," and those to whom God says, "All right, then, have it your way."

-This is one of the miracles of love: It gives a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted.

-You can't get a cup of tea big enough or a book long enough to suit me.

-You don't have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body.

And my personal favorite...

-Reason is the natural order of truth; but imagination is the organ of meaning.

After writing the 300[reasons why I hate this movie] thought-rant, I felt like I need to write something a little more...happier.
Lately, I have been having the strongest impulse to just jump into the air, kicking my feet off the ground and throwing my arms out wide, and flying into the sky. Sometimes, the impulse is so strong, it seems that if I were to fly, it would be one of the most natural things in the world. As I walk from the cafeteria every night when its getting dark, I look up into the naked tree branches that look like snake fingers interweaving with one another and I can just imagine my-self soaring through them and up into the stars that are beginning to peak out as the sun is stepping over the horizon.
Now I've flown hundreds of times in airplanes-but I don't really count that as flying. That's just sitting in a cramped metal bus with wings attached, trying your best not to elbow the strange man sitting next to you. I do like it when you look out and see all of those great, mountainous clouds that the plane is flying near. However, it would be so much better to actually fly by yourself into those clouds at the speed of sound. Without a care in the world.
When I return to Maine for the summer, it would be so nice to just leap from my back porch, leap right across the Atlantic, and land smack dab in the middle of London. Or take an extra step into Paris. Or a few more to Venice. Or a big leap to Tokyo.
I've been having these urges so strongly lately that I even down-loaded Superman Returns-a movie I think could have been done a whole lot better-just to see somebody fly.
Its no wonder every time I see a shooting star, drop a penny into the fountain or notice the clock says 11:11, I wish "I had the powers of Superman."

I am not really going to write 300 reasons why I hate the movie 300-I don't have the time and really, I'll just make my-self more mad talking about it. Well, here I am, a young man of nineteen, who likes action movies and sweet special effects just as much as the next guy, but I'm going to say it: 300 is an epic piece of trash!!! It is nothing but a glamorized gore porn. Wow, it feels so good to say that and mom, I'm really sorry that I ever watched it. I was curious to see what all of the hype was about and I kept having guy-friends tell me that I'm not a man until I see this movie-well that's a load of bull.
Though the true battle of 300 was a noble effort to keep the Persians from entering Europe-the movie, in my opinion, was not so noble. The Spartans of this film were not my most favorite group of film characters: lets just say if I had a choice of being a Spartan or being a flying monkey from the Wizard of Oz-flying monkey hands down! When that movie came out-all my guy-friends wanted to be was a Spartan. Well, obviously they didn't notice the whole-eugenics-we-kill-the-weak-and-keep-the-strong mentality and that Spartans really did not run around in flowing red capes, just a pretty helmet and crimson loin-clothes that remind me of my red-ranger undies that I wore when I was five-but wore armor just as much as the next guy.
And another thing...The whole motivation behind the Spartans fighting the Persians was to preserve freedom and liberty for their fellow man. But I believe Sparta was just as enslaving as Persia (but not to the scale of Persians)-somebody check me on this-of course they did try to enslave Troy and that was just one big ugly mess.
Well, I am going to really MAN up and say that 300 is really nothing but something to satisfy our animal and crude desires that have no business being satisfied.
Thanks for listening to this latest thought-rant-I just had to speak up about this-it's been eating at me for the last few weeks.
P.S. That whole scene with the hunchback in Xerxes' tent-worst movie scene EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!