Real Talks…?

Growing up, I was not one to express my emotions to people. I was taught by many around me that showing how I felt was a weakness. That it made me vulnerable. So all I ever let myself show in public was anger, and on occasion happiness. Some friends (mostly girls, guys understand this rule) asked me why I was so insensitive. I often told them about the weakness rule and left it at that. In reality I was an emotional wreck, incapable of understanding what I felt. Then I became a Christian and after some time, had an honest conversation about my feelings with someone. It was surreal. I remember expressing fear, confusion and grief. I had never really done it before and it was the first time I had done so without being false in my motives. I was being genuine. It was relieving, almost therapeutic. I felt like a new person. The best part about it was that I didn’t come out of the conversation the same. My attitude was tested, corrected and changed as a result of it. It was the most real conversation I had ever had and since then, I’ve had many more. So you can imagine that when I hear people saying they’ve had “Real Talks” that I instantly get interested.

My twitter timeline and Facebook homepage are filled with people saying “Real talks with (insert name here)” and “I love real talks with my boy/girl (insert name here)”. It excited me at first. As in, who wouldn’t be excited about so many people being open and honest with the people around them? It was a great thing for me to see in so many people I knew. Or at least, that’s what I thought. But as of late, I’ve noticed something about people’s supposed “Real Talks”. They (for the most part) haven’t really happened.

Now before someone jumps down my throat about being an unloving, judgmental Christian I need to make something very clear. I do not hate people having emotionally moving, thought provoking conversations. I encourage them. But I am a person who’s very first honest and open conversation (that wasn’t an argument) resulted not just in warm fuzzy feelings, but positive change in perspective. I’ve had many of these conversations and they’ve changed my life. They’ve helped me realize my flaws and pointed me to repentance (change of mind and action), as well as helped me realize there are things in my life that are not my fault. They’ve directed me to perceive things in a way that isn’t centered on me. Instead, I look at things as they are in reality. I have “Real Talks”. The evidence is in my life. I have a long way to go, but at the very least, I have changed positively.

Lately when I hear about people having “Real Talks” with their friends, this goes especially to my fellow teenagers, all they’ve really had are gossip and trash talk sessions. I know because I’ve been on both ends of the spectrum. I’ve heard girls and guys alike talk ceaselessly about what’s going on in their lives, and instead of hearing about how people should positively handle themselves, I hear “That guy is a jerk, he doesn’t deserve you.” Or “That girl’s such a slut look at how she’s dressed.” Excuse me? Where in the world did you develop the audacity to talk about someone else’s situation in that way? How does allowing to let someone tear others down to build you up come across as real? There is no challenge to your character or encouragement to continue your growth. Just biased opinions about how to view your life. There’s a difference between being real and gossiping. There is a difference between being real and trashing people. Staying up until four A.M. with your best friend talking about how awful a person is because of your drama is not “Real Talks”. It’s just whining. It’s noise. It’s weak and it’s pathetic. And I’m ashamed every time I do it.

So why my negative outburst? Why not be content with what’s going on in my life and let everyone else be? Because that’s anything but real. I’m a lot of things but complacent is not one of them. I refuse to sit by and watch people ignorantly destroy themselves with something as simple as conversation. No one can walk out of an honest, real conversation about a negative topic and come out with the same, or more negative, attitude. A person who has had “Real Talks” may have mentioned other people, but they will not have destroyed someone’s reputation while doing so (if the person has not already destroyed their reputation). A person who has had “Real Talks” will walk away encouraged to do better and be better. They will not walk away full of themselves. A person who has been honest in private conversations will grow as a person, not succumb to being pitied by friends. They will be better as a result of honest interaction.

*SIDE NOTE: A friend on the advice giving side will be just as real giving advice. “Real Talks” aren’t supposed to be pity parties. Say what needs to be said clearly and kindly. Don’t slam someone that you don’t really know about. Focus on your friend, not their problem, especially if you aren’t involved in any way. If you aren’t the person facing troubles, you may grasp what’s going on but you’ll never fully understand. Don’t use your past experiences, or lack thereof, to try and solve your friends problems. You aren’t their saviour.

That being said, certain situations differ. Should you find a friend in a relationship that is in any way abusive or something else of a life threatening nature, PLEASE, be real and encourage them to end what could destroy them.

To end, I do want to bring up two friendships (I won’t use names, there are two friends specifically). We’ve been through hard times over the years. We went through things over time and though I’ve done some bashing of people, what my friends and I try our best to do is be honest. We look at things outside of our perspectives and try being as real as possible. We focus on our own characters, knowing we can change no one else’s for them. The result? Some grown, and still growing, individuals. I couldn’t ask for better friends and I hope that through all our Real Talks, we will continue to edify and be honest with each other. And I hope that you reading this, that you will find a friend or better, be a friend, who is honest in a way that challenges and changes people for the better.

Grace & Peace,

Joshua Watkis

Aka

The Realist Scribe

Case for Modesty 1- For the Ladies

Have you ever seen something that made you shake your head and question what the world was coming to? Something so utterly disappointing that you couldn’t even get angry about it? That confuses you to the point where the most you can say is “Why?!?!” as you throw your arms into the air in exasperation? Not too long ago I had a moment like that at work.

I was working a floor shift, cleaning up the Cineplex lobby when it happened. I had just finished filling the straws when I turned around and saw something I wish I could erase from my mind. Two girls, no older than fifteen, wearing the shortest short shorts I have ever seen in my entire life. Ever. They were so short that they might as well have been underwear. I am not exaggerating in anyway. Black and looking like spandex. I couldn’t believe my eyes. How could anyone let their daughters outside like that? They were practically naked! Did they change after they left home? (I know girls who have done this) As I turned away to avoid looking further, I noticed my managers and a couple staff looking in the same direction. I asked and as it turned out they couldn’t believe it either. I walked away saddened.

That wasn’t the first time I had seen girls wearing a little less than they should have. It’s something I dislike, and often voice to my twitter followers, but nothing had struck me like this. I saw the two girls a couple times that night, and at one point I saw a little more than anyone should ever see before a wedding night, as if the underwear shorts, weren’t bad enough already. As they disappeared from my sight I realized something that hadn’t dawned on me until that moment. There was nothing attractive about how they were dressed. I can’t even say they were beautiful young women because I didn’t want to exploit them by staring and lusting after them. At first I criticized them in my mind and then something clicked. Ladies pay close attention to this next line.

You have been screwed over.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t believe any girl would ever show that much of herself without some motive. Whether to prove a point, or to look good, or to attract the attention of those they believe would ignore them otherwise. There is no logical reason any girl would walk into a movie theater with almost nothing on. Especially when the lights aren’t on long enough in a theater for anyone to get a good look at them.

The only thing I can think of, is that those girls (along with many in our culture) have been deceived into believing that somehow, those clothes (or lack thereof) would make them matter more to someone in some way. Whether through the envy of their less naked female peers, or the attention of horomone crazed boys, they had been tricked into thinking this was the way to go. And in the attempt to attain the adoration or attention they sought, they sold themselves to a false solution that in the end had them used by some and judged by others. They were pawns, sacrificed by the media and only the corporations marketing that style and body image benefited from it.

Again I say: Ladies, you have been screwed over.

The media has bent our culture and society into believing the more us guys see of your body, or worse, the more you look like a coke bottle, the more beautiful you are. Please ladies, if you take away nothing else from this post please know this. There is nothing further from the truth.

If your heart and mind are beautiful to know (you have an admirable character) , your body is of virtually no consequence or concern to a real man (that excludes hygiene, please shower & take care of your bodies). The world would love for you to believe that you need to change everything about your physical appearance and behavior to fit their marketing mold. For you to buy into that is to allow a man to see you as parts and not a person, for companies to view you as a target to take advantage of not to empower. Please, let your personality be what defines how you are perceived. Be modest! Let a man have to work his way into your heart to even have thoughts about trying to get inside your clothes. Let him fall in love with your modest character, one that doesn’t need to flirt or play games to keep a mans attention. Let even your outfit, while looking good (there is nothing wrong with dressing well) be a statement that says “I am more than eye candy. I am a dignified woman who doesn’t need the attention of anyone who isn’t looking for all of me.”

You’ll be amazed at how much genuine interest a woman who doesn’t fit today’s awful stereotypes can spark. Inner beauty is worn like fine clothes and jewelry, and in my eyes, that is the type of beauty our world desperately needs.

Caring about your hearts,

Joshua Watkis

aka

The Big/Little Brother Scribe

Final Goodbye to Elevation

Here’s the spoken word from Elevation’s Talent Night. I love and miss you guys like crazy. Hope you enjoy, and are encouraged by it.

This is my spoken word, my memoir and goodbye letter/ The last piece I’ve written for the last time we’ll be together/ I’ll start out with I love ya’ll and though we’ll change like Toronto weather our blood is as thick as ever, we’ll be Christian fam forever./ In fact that’s literal, I say that on Scriptural basis, simple spiritual Food Basics/ I pray ya’ll would make frequent visits, get your daily bread from His pages/ Glad I’m here in a room of familia with familiar faces/ But can somebody tell me please! Where the change is?/ This group is just over a class room size and if I’m not failed by my eyes, the gym could hold double the number of people/ This year was a year of growth I know your next can be a sequel unparalleled because your God has no equal and He’s using you/ I pray you’ll pray for more to come and at the same time change your attitudes while you’re taught and learning truths/ By the way I’m not dissing you I’m just saying, We could all be a little more like Jesus/ We could all raise our bars and our standards that’s our aim right? The Elevation of this generation! You start in Drop Zone, Launch and as you Elevate you’ll finally Converge once you learn how to Resonate./Don’t be afraid to rise above your expectations, Jesus called ya’ll greatness surpassing planes in high places/To reach the covered faces in hallways pacing back and forth, displaced and disgraced not knowing about God’s amazing love or amazing grace/ Don’t keep His light encased in your mind or hold the Gospel in to your grave/ Christ is calling you to bring more, love more and be more like Him/ As you Elevate. Grace & Peace

The Bathroom

I swing around the word ‘hate’ for a lot of things I don’t like. It’s a generational, cultural thing. We seem to over exaggerate just about every single thing we say just to make it seem important. But in this post, keep in mind that when I say the word ‘hate’ I mean it with every fiber of my being.

I work at Cineplex Odeon. A movie theater, for those of you that don’t know. I must clarify, I love my job. I love serving people and making them smile. Even behind the scenes, where I know most people watching movies don’t care about what I’m doing, I enjoy being able to enhance someone’s Cineplex experience. Not even doing dirty work spoils my attitude during a shift. That is, when it’s an accident. Only then.

There is almost nothing on this earth that I Hate like I hate a conscious mess maker. To be ignorant of rules is one thing. Purposely leaving a mess for someone else to clean, that makes me want to throw people down stairs. Long, hard, cold, sharp, unforgiving stairs. When people leave a mess in the theatres, I try my best to pour my anger into clearing it all up and lecturing the mess makers (their parents too) about what it costs us when they screw up. In my head of course. Eventually, I get over the theatres. But there is one thing I have deemed as too disgusting to forgive. Messing with the bathrooms. Yes, I do mean tampering with them. The last appalling act, has driven me pretty far past the “just angry” point. Let me explain.

Some idiot(s) decided (and I use the word idiot because anything else I’ve thought of is too vulgar for me to repeat) they would put paper towel in the urinals. However they felt, for some odd reason, that it was necessary to push the boundaries of their stupidity by clogging them. How do I know it was intentional? It’s impossible to clog a urinal unintentionally. Need I say more?

So why was I so angry about it? Because I was cleaning bathrooms. And those clogged urinals were spewing themselves all over my newly swept & mopped floor. Not once, not twice but repeatedly. All night. It reeked in such a way that I can’t find accurate words to describe exactly how putrid it was. I spent nearly two hours trying to clean up the mess from that alone, not to mention all the other responsibilities I had. But it was part of my job. So, like a good employee, I did what I was asked before I had ever seen the clogged urinals. I cleaned up someone else’s mess.

I left the theatre bitter that night. If I ever met the guys who were responsible, I would find a way to soak them in toilet water. Then maybe make them drink it for good measure. But then I felt God say to me:

“That was what I did for you.”

He cleaned up my mess. If I wasn’t so disgusted by the thought of floors I would have fell and worshipped God right there. Sin is the by product of the consumption of what is evil. Jesus, God in the flesh, became a bloody, emotional mess to save me from my own self-inflicted and sinful one. Put simply, Jesus died cleaning up my purposely clogged urinal. I made a mess on purpose. He cleaned it. And might I add, much better than I could have ever cleaned those bathroom floors.

He waits for you to admit your own so He can come in and completely clean your mess as well. I promise, your record is spotless before Him if you let Him.

1 John 2:2
Forever cleansed,

Joshua Watkis

aka

The Squeaky Clean Scribe

Pathetic Puddle of Love

Have you ever had one of those horrible moments when everything you believed to be true was suddenly empty? It feels awful, doesn’t it? Like someone has a firm grip on your heart and with every pump it twists and turns trying to escape. But it can’t. Reality sets in, the dream world vanishes and all you are left with is the fading image of what you now see as a flawed fantasy.

I had this kind of moment August 2’nd, a grand total of about nine days ago, on the plane back from my dads wedding. I was reading a book called ‘Crazy Love’ by Francis Chan and suddenly I felt God tell me to put the book down. In a way I can’t explain, my world just fell apart. A veil fell from my eyes and for the first time I realized something I never thought could be true.

My love for God is shallow.

The realization crashed over me like an ocean wave and left me terrified in my seat. I couldn’t escape the thought. I wanted to scream, and then to cry but I couldn’t do either. I noticed as I searched my heart I didn’t care enough to do either. Not to mention I was on a plane. My dilemma was huge. I had thought all this time I had loved God deeply. I was scarred. Was my life a lie? Was all my faith a lie?

The truth that God revealed to me over the few days was that I am terrified to let Him love me. I know that might sound ridiculous, but it’s true. I am afraid of the loving God of the Bible loving me. Why? Because of how extreme His love is. The cross is the most extreme form of execution in human history. The burden of God’s wrath for all sin, the most extreme sentence of all eternity. Jesus took them both at the same time for me. To make matters worse, He thinks I’m worth it. Really, truly worth it.

Why His does extreme love scare me? Because I can’t ignore love that radical. Whether I close my eyes, try to deny it exists or run from it, I know deep down that it is always there. Never stopping, never resting, never slowing, never ending. Even after acknowledging it I would be swept up by it, unable to resist it. I would be forced to look at myself and realize that there would only be two options from there on out.

Run away forever and never let His love influence my life

OR

Come face-to-face with and embrace His love and be radically changed by the overwhelming reality that I am loved more than I can handle, or reciprocate.

I will never be able to love God as much as He loves me. I will spend my entire life scrambling to try and love Him as much as I can, only to find I can never out give or over commit to our relationship. He is too good. My love will always be a very small puddle, His will always be a vast ocean in comparison.

I have no Bible verse, I have no song, I have no inspiring quote. All I have is this.

I want to get to know this God who loves me so much. I need to know everything about Him. And it will take time, but as I search His Word and seek Him in prayer, I hope with all my heart that my pathetic puddle of love will show the God of the universe that He is truly everything to me.

Will you let God love you?

Joshua Watkis

aka

The Beloved Scribe

Don (Cape Breton Reflections)

It’s been almost a month since the missions trip that I went on to Cape Breton but memories still constantly surface in my mind. It was truly a life changing experience. I remember the outreaches in the skate parks, the quick walks to Harvest House where we ate, and so many laughs. Lately however, I remember one thing in more than all else.

On Sunday morning, the #Elevation worship team led worship at the Lighthouse Community Church’s service. I could go on forever about the refining process of getting there but my memory only points to one person from that morning. But he was not a part of the worship team. In fact he wasn’t even part of the missions team.

His name was Don, (I hope I spelt it right) a man with a crazy life story, and a crazier heart for God. He was sitting near to the back row, further to my left from my position off stage. Early in the singing time I could barely hear anyone, (the music was LOUD and directly behind me) but as the songs slowed down something changed. I could hear everyone singing. They were more passionate, seeking to please God with their beautiful praise that truly did come from the heart. As we played the reprise of Hillsongs ‘Came to my Rescue’ I heard God being glorified and worshipped. However one voice stood out to me.

It was Don. He was as loud, if not louder, than I was with my microphone. His voice resounded around the sanctuary and even when the instruments came back full tilt, Don could be heard singing. I’ll be honest, he didn’t have a great voice. It was raspy and loud. But there was something in it that made me wonder what the beautiful sound was.

It was desperation. A loving, longing, desperation for Jesus. Over every person in that room, myself included, I heard his love and passion for Jesus. It broke my heart to realize I had never heard that before. Not the passion, I’m sure the gathered congregation loved Jesus, what got to me was that Don didn’t seem to care who heard Him. He wasn’t being obnoxious and if he appeared so, he didn’t care. He sang his heart out to the One he loved without any shame.

It reminded me of David dancing through the streets of Jerusalem in almost nothing when the Ark of the Covenant was brought back to the city. When his wife disapproved he simply said “…I’ll become even more undignified than this” . No shame, no embarrassment. The Lord receiving Davids worship was more important than his public AND private appearance.

Here’s the hard question. It’s one I’ll close with. Answer honestly. Are you willing to degrade yourself in the eyes of others to show your complete passion for Jesus?

2 Samuel 6:12-23,

Joshua Watkis

aka

The Scribe

Doing the Single Ladies Dance

For those of you who don’t know, my dad lives in Florida. Occasionally I swing down to visit him and we spend time catching up & creating new memories. Being the busy & multi-talented man he is, I see him do different jobs here & there. However there is one job above all the others that stands out. My dad is a Zumba Instructor.

Zumba is a blend of Latin-American dances, made to be a form of exercise (if I’ve got the concept right) . It’s a lot of fun & has caught on around North America.

Zumba instructors are allowed to add a little… Personal flare to their class. My dad does a joint class with his newly wed wife Amy (love you guys!) and so their sets are exciting. With their room for that… personal flare they put in a couple radio hits to get their classes into what they’re doing. One of them, was Beyonce’s Single Ladies.

I was in a class this week. And yes… I (can’t believe I’m saying this) DID the Single Ladies dance.

If you’re going to laugh, now is the time.

Done? Okay. Now for the story.

It all started when my brother Jordan said I couldn’t do a full Zumba class. I was going to do the class anyway but his challenge spurred me to action. I put on my blue track pants and my breezy grey T-shirt and left with for a Zumba fitness work out.

We arrived, set up for the class, watched a couple Old Spice commercials to pass the time and then class began. I stepped out on to the floor, sort of knowing what to expect. I also was prepared to look stupid. It was my first class so I thought had some sort of awareness of how bad this could turn out. Little did I know, I was in for the shock of my life.

“All the Single Ladies!”

“Oh no…” I thought. I was about to step off the floor when I saw my dad, who was taking a water break, literally run back to the front of the class to teach it with Amy. No shame, no embarrassment, nothing. In fact, he looked like he was enjoying himself.

Side note: My dad is a phenominal dancer so while doing the dance he looked good.

I had no choice now, I had to do it. I also remembered Jordan jeering at me. I had to try. So I started. The toe tapping with the finger twist (if you like it then you should’ve put a ring on it) was awkward. The part that looks like an Egyptian sidestep was odd. Anything that involved booty shaking, neigh impossible for me. And I have never rolled my hips that much. Ever. I looked absolutely out of place. Totally ridiculous. The worst part, I knew it.

There came a moment, and I do mean a brief second, where I stopped. I was going to give up. I looked foolish doing a dance I hated. I could join in on the next song. But then I looked at my dad and thought “He doesn’t care what anyone is saying or would say. I’ll just follow him. If I look stupid at least he’ll be proud that I tried.”

So I went for it. The toe tapping stayed awkward, the Egyptian thingy got a little easier to do (stayed sloppy), and MAN! My hip rolling was looking half decent by the end. Just half. But I had followed Dad. That was it for me…

Now you all knew this was coming, but I’m going to say it anyway. How many times have you felt God call you to do something that felt ridiculous? To do things your classmates or co-workers would make fun of you for or would gossip about? Some of you reading this don’t struggle at all because you don’t obey God. I would re-evaluate where you stand with God. It’s not cool to disobey Him. In fact I’ve heard the punishment is hot…

Some of us struggle to obey. It’s hard. We want to but certain things push your boundaries. They are too extreme. I ask, do we really believe that we can limit what God asks you to do? Who do we think we are, trying to direct the God of the universe?

Then there are those who believe they are obeying God. I’ve been here recently. I’m not saying you aren’t but I know that one area of my life was definitely not where God wanted it. And I ignored His voice until He had to get drastic. If you believe you’re obeying, check out the Bible & see if you’re doing what is in His will. It helps clear up who’s voice we’re listening to. Sometimes, as I’ve learned, it’s not always Gods.

I pray for us all that we would look in Scripture and follow God like Jesus did. Without looking left or right, just straight at God. That got Him through everything. Just like looking at my dad got me through the doing the Single Ladies dance. Our obedience may look ridiculous to the world, but why should we be embarrassed? We’re copying the most beautiful being in the universe. It’s the world that should be embarrassed for not joining in.

Romans 1:16,

Joshua Watkis

aka

The Single Ladies dancing Scribe

How He Loves

I wrote this after I had trouble believing in the intensity of Gods insurmountable & inexplicable love for us. Forgive the rambling tone, for some of the process I was in hysterical fits of tears. It is a story more than anything. Forgive me taking artistic lisence. Enjoy.

As Judas kissed Him, and called Him Rabbi, as Judas literally sold Him out for the price of an empty field with blood money, Jesus looked at Him and thought “Though you are a devil, I love you”

When His disciples scattered and abandoned Him, though hours earlier they swore their allegiance,  though hours earlier they promised they would lay down their lives for Him, Jesus did not grow bitter. In His heart He said “My dear friends, though you abandon me at the only time I would ever need you, I love you all the same”

Though Peter claimed to be faithlful over all the followers He had, though he said he would do anything for Him, though he denied ever knowing Him three times, though he cursed at the possibility of knowing Him to protect the life he swore he would lay down, though he looked Him straight in the eye and then ran away instead of revealing himself, Jesus watched Peter run for his life and in His heart said “I told you exactly what you would do, you lied as if you hated me, but I will never hate you. Peter, I still love you”

As the Sanhedrin illegally tried Him, beat Him, mocked Him, accused Him of blaspheming His own Father, as they defied Him! Their King! As they did the unthinkable to a guiltless man under a law they had defiled, He looked at their deceived and empty lives thinking “If you could only see beyond religion and your own wicked hearts you would know I am He, and that I love you”

As Pilot questioned Him, tried to force Him to escape the Jews, as he failed to deliver justice and called for a flogging instead, He was silent. When the nine-tailed whip was pulled back, when they lashed across the room towards Him, as the bones and glass tore deep into His flesh, as the welts appeared and disappeared as they burst from the impact after impact thirty-nine times over, He screamed in His heart every time the whip fell “I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!”

As He was sentenced to the cross, as He staggered to where He knew He would die, as He bore the very stand of His divine execution, as He was jeered at and stripped naked by the Roman Centurions and laid down to embrace a brutal death, His only thought to the crowd was “I love you”

As the soldiers prepared the first nail, as they raised the hammer, as they brought it down and drove steel through His skin, His nerves, His veins, His bone… As the thud resounded against the wood and the hammer came down again, causing pure anguish, causing unimaginable pain, causing undeserved agony, He cried out with His soul “I LOVE YOU”

They hammered again. “I LOVE YOU” Again. “I LOVE YOU” Again. “I LOVE YOU” Through both His feet. “I LOVE YOU” AGAIN. “I LOVE YOU”

And there He hung. Again mocked. Again hated. Men gambled for His clothes in front of His bloody face. They let Him see it. They embarrassed Him. God of the universe. They hung Him up with criminals when He was pure and blameless. And whether people mourned for Him or made a joke of Him, He looked at each person gathered there and thought to each of them “I love you”

Then darkness fell and He entered Hell. He entered into God’s wrath. Into what He had never experienced. Sin. And now He held all the guilt that we had on His own shoulders. He bore all our pain. He was punished for all of it. Cut off from the Father, He suffered separation from all He had ever known. He was alone. Alone taking what should have been mine.

Serving the sentence for every lie I told my mother, every blow I laid on my brother, every curse I spoke against my father, every drink down my throat, every item I stole, every fight I got into, every girl I lusted after, every guy I discouraged, every person I hated, all the grudges I hold, every time I was the center of my life, for every second I was fake… He hung and died.

And though I spit in His eye every time I choose to do wrong, I know on that cross Jesus whispered to me across time “Joshua… My servant, my beloved friend. I love you”

Laughter (Cape Breton Reflections)

As some of you may or may not know I went on a missions trip to Cape Breton not too long ago. The team & I, lead by my youth pastor Carlos Castro & Samantha Jagan, helped out Lighthouse Community Church in out reaches and events they hosted that week. Each day was an incredible experience that have already proven to have changed me. I wish I could cram everything in but I won’t because I don’t want you to lose your eyesight. Instead here are some of my thoughts.

Looking back I will remember one thing predominantly. Laughter. A lot of laughter. Honest laughter, awkward laughter, over-tired laughter and laughter faked to cover up exhaustion and depression. Laughter.  Lots of laughter.

It was infectious and beautifully so. It spread through the week like flowers across a well planted and tended garden. It spread, healing wounds, easing tension, sharing joy, giving peace, and turning eyes away from despair. Laughter. Lots of it.

It concealed pain, hid anger, masked heart ache and revealed weakness. I exposed cracks in our characters that only we as individuals could see. It wrought destruction on our minds, chaos in our hearts and rained ashes upon our souls. It reaped havoc on our realities and obliderated them. Oh laughter, beautiful, terrible, false laughter.

But oh how our laughter changed. It transformed as we did. It matured and grew. Out of our angst and internal stress, tensions between each other the Holy Spirit did a beautiful work. He forged in us an unquenchable joy, an incomprehensible peace, and a new laughter. A raging laughter, a roaring laughter, a rising, resounding, revolutionary laughter. It came from joy, salvaged from our highest highs and lowest lows. To His glory God gave us blissful and boisterous laughter. So much so that my six pac still hurts.

Know His joy even in suffering,

Joshua Watkis

aka

The Scribe

Bike Riding & Doubt

Have you ever done something that you were completely unprepared for? When you were in the moment, how did you feel? How far have you come since then? As you read on I help this helps you live without fear of your potential and the road ahead.

Today I did something I was no where near ready for. Mountain biking. To make matters about 100 times worse, I took the ‘Serious’ route. For the record it was the hardest my school could do. The instructors said I was ready. But I had never been mountain biking. Ever.

To keep it simple, I SUCKED. I was always lagging behind my 3 other teammates, wondering if I should have taken the easy paths. I struggled with some of the hills (going up and down), wobbled while turning the corners, crashed into trees and fell a couple times. Even the bike hurt me. To restate my point in other words: I.WAS.GARBAGE. I honestly belived (in the beginning) that I did not belong with this group of stronger bikers. But I love a challenge and I HATE giving up. So I stuck with it. I knew that the satisfaction at the end, despite the pain and embarassment during the ride, would outweigh all the negatives.

When I wasn’t thinking about potential death or injury (when we stopped for breaks), my thoughts strayed to a young man named Timothy. He’s commonly known to the world as Pauls spiritual son and closest disciple, left to lead the church in Ephesis. He was, according to Scripture, young. Very young. At least young enough to make the church Paul had left him to pastor question his capabilities. I often wonder if he felt inadequate next to the elders of the church, felt less experienced around the deacons. I wonder if he ever felt he wasn’t good enough to lead the church in Ephesus, if he questioned Paul’s judgment about his potential. If he doubted what God could do with him.

I often ask myself the same questions. When I sin, say the wrong things, or start slacking off, I begin to doubt I’ll ever be the leader I know I’m called to be. Whenever I fall I find myself unable to get up.

I think my problem is that I’m actually unwilling to get up. Jesus always reached out to those unable to help themselves but those with the ability to do what they needed to always slapped His hands away. But by grace we can take His hand, and get up when we fall. After all this ride called Christianity didn’t start with us on our feet, but on our faces. Christ picked us up and when we collapse under the pressure of this life, is always waiting for us to take His hand and rise again. This path is difficult but conquerable. And it is beyond worth it.