He calls.

It's a battle of our minds and our actions
Not mindful of foregone reactions
The third law applies to science and defiance
Reliance on ourselves, compliance with the smells, the looks, the feels, the appeals that steal our love.
Lowercase "L" because it less applies to Heaven than it does to Hell.
The pastors who preach and the fathers who teach fall back on a common speech:
Moderation in everything.
But, of course, this falls on deaf ears and these words tend to turn to fears to the millions of prodigals who drink tainted water that isn't even close to potable
it's poison - filled with sin
and delicious, a dish of burned out wishes for a people with torn out stitches
which once closed their wounded pride but now gush streams of rebelliousness and selfishness.
And I'm done going with that flow.
It's an undertow.
A current of so-called fun that leaves me feeling less alive and more like my feet have kicked the box I've stood on, leaving my body hung on the tree of iniquity.
He cuts that cord.
He fills that void with Love.
Capital "L" - the kind that drives you up to a mountain to yell of His graces and mercies
Flowing around and through, blowing in a hurricane of utter silence and peace - the kind only achieved when a blinded soul has been released.
Freedom is one thing. But I gladly shackle myself to this Love.
A bond servant of Christ, it won't always be sugar, spice, and everything nice.
It's much, much better.
Like when you open up that long overdue letter.
He turns "better" to "best" and lest you think that's all
He's already taken the fall.
He's destroyed every wall.
And from every corner of every long-lost soul,
He calls.

Mumford & Sons & Me

This post isn't meant to be a review of Mumford & Sons. I'm not going to rate their music, or compare them to other specific artists. Instead, my purpose is to explain a little bit of my journey through the lens of their passionate vocals and fervent stringed instrument playing.

I don't know Marcus Mumford, and chances are that I never will. But in a very real way I feel as though my journey as been impacted by, and in some ways mirrored, his.


Two summers ago my cousin and I sat in a car, driving just outside of Washington D.C. My was at the wheel, and we were speeding in the dead of night after having watched a late movie. My cousin and I have always been close, but on this night we shared one of the most memorable conversations I've ever had with him. We spoke of family, the future, and life. As we conversed back and forth, a song I had heard often played in the background. Though I knew the song, I was unfamiliar with the artist. "Oh, it's Mumford & Sons, they're great." my cousin said after I asked what was on. He reached for the volume knob and turned the music up. We sat there listening, commenting on how great the music was.

That's my first memory of Mumford & Sons directly. Since then my love of their music has grown. I listened to their first album, Sigh No More, on repeat during my Sophomore year of college. My roommate Chris Welker and I jammed to Little Lion Man - he on the guitar, and I on the ukulele. We made do with what we had.

I got Babel on the day it came out, and with much anticipation I sat down and listened to the entire thing. Then again. And again. In fact, the week Babel came out, I didn't listen to much else.

When I listen to music, I prefer not to look up the lyrics right away. Instead, I soak it in. Sometimes I don't process all of the words during the first few listens. Then, all of a sudden, one day I'll make sense of the familiar song. And so it has been with  Babel.

Today, as I was listening to the song "Lover's Eyes" it hit me that through the course of the song it goes from a somber, almost depressingly dark tone to a hopeful, redemptive-feeling chorus of passionate lyrics. In the span of one song, I am taken through an entire range of emotions. Yet this sort of thing is almost common for a Mumford & Sons song.

Marcus' parents, John and Eleanor, are leaders of the Vineyard Church in the UK and Ireland. I attended the Vineyard Boise, a church from the same movement, all growing up. And in a real way, this influence shows in Mumford's music. There is an element to both albums that is spiritual, perhaps even faith-based, in every sense of those terms. Yet at the same time, the music has a gritty, raw feel to it. The band isn't afraid to drop the f bomb any more than they are to namedrop Jesus.

So is Mumford & Sons a 'Christian' band? No - not according to the lead singer. "I don't even call myself a Christian," he added. "Spirituality is the word we engage with more. We're fans of faith, no religion." (source: http://www.nme.com/news/mumford-and-sons/66357)

As a good Christian raised in a Christian household who attended a Christian Homeschool co-op this statement immediately takes me aback. "What?!" says my mind, "Engaging with sprituality and not Christianity? Clearly this man is in need of Jesus. Spirituality without Jesus is like eating empty carbs. Filling, but ultimately detrimental." My mind does this because I have trained it to. I've trained it to judge others based on my preconceived beliefs of what is "right" and what is "wrong."

But over the past several years I have built a back door to this thinking pattern. I have begun to re-wire my mind. As anyone who has ever experienced it will tell you, rewiring is not easy. For me, it has been an intense process marked with pain - pain that I've experienced, and pain that I've felt radiating from the experience of others. My own pain stems from the death of my older brother, Nate. It has made me question everything. Other's pain has come from a variety of sources: those burned by the church organization, those who don't find a home in the Christian hivemind, and the Searchers who have found God in places I wouldn't think to look.

The back door is this: I have learned to ask questions. And that's where Marcus and I see eye to eye. In the second part of the quote mentioned above, he goes on to say, "We're just writing songs that ask questions. Sometimes the best way to go about exploring a question, things we wouldn't necessarily talk about in conversation, is by writing a song." 

I have found great freedom in questions. They allow me admit that I don't know everything. They put me in a spot where I am able to learn something new. They allow me to get closer to the meaning of something, rather than simply looking at it from the shell layer. And finally, they aid me in shedding my stubbornness in favor of adopting a more open-handed approach to my belief system; having beliefs and holding to them, yet keeping them in the palm of my hand, fingers open, so that I can constantly be examining them and maybe - just maybe - get a little closer to the truth.

Is Mumford & Sons preaching the gospel? No. They are sharing their journey, and every aspect of it. Fear, success, failure, love, pain, suffering, despair, joy - it's all there. They aren't playing worship songs, but they are being real and raw. Their music doesn't contain verses of the Bible, but they do contain verses of passionate and personal truths.

In a world of fake people - Christians and nonchristians alike - Marcus Mumford is being real through his music. And I dig it.
I'll end with lyrics from Mumford & Son's hit single "I Will Wait" which came out before the debut of Babel.

So I'll be bold
As well as strong
And use my head alongside my heart
So tame my flesh
And fix my eyes
That tethered mind free from the lies

But I'll kneel down
Wait for now
I'll kneel down
Know my ground

Raise my hands
Paint my spirit gold
And bow my head
Keep my heart slow

Cause I will wait, I will wait for you

Colin

Broken nose, black eyes, my birthday, and the Easter bunny.

Well, I've gone and done it. Playing intramural rugby last Thursday I dove towards an opponent only to be greeted by my teammates forehead to the center of my face (he was diving towards the same opponent). The impact of his head on the bridge of my nose - right where my nose meets my head between my eyes - caused some of the worst pain I've felt in a long, long time. Convinced it was just bad bruising, I went back to my room feeling like I had a moon-sized crater in my face. The days that followed brought swelling, black eyes, and assurance by others that I had indeed broken my nose. I guess that eliminates me from being Jesus, though I'm still in the running for Rocky Balboa.

Days 1 through 4 of the broken nose saga.

If you're my friend - whether on facebook or in real life - you probably know my birthday was yesterday. Being that it's also Easter weekend, I took the opportunity to take pass away from West Point to Washington D.C. for the weekend to spend time with my Aunt Janet, Uncle Tom, and cousins Shannon and Matt. This is my first ever birthday away from home, and I'm really, really glad I was still able to be with family for it. My family has always put special emphasis on birthdays, to the point that they rival holidays as poignant moments in the year.

Spending my birthday with my extended family was a great choice. My Aunt treated me to a trip to Mt. Vernon (they live right down the road!) where we basked in American history, and in conversation with each other. I process best by talking, and this was a great opportunity for me to do some processing, and also hear about my Aunt's life. Later that night I made blondies with Shannon and Matt, then we watched some movies together.

To end a great weekend, my Aunt cooked a fantastic breakfast this morning. We celebrated Easter Sunday with laughs, conversation, and good food.

How blessed I am! I go to a great school, I have an amazing family, I have a girlfriend who loves me and who I love back, and I have so many friends who are constantly there for me. It's easy for me to get caught up in the individual moments of stress, fatigue, and personal failures. Sometimes it takes weekends like this for me to step back and take a look at everything Papa has blessed me with.


Spring is a time of rebirth and renewal. May God continue to rebirth a spirit of thanks and gratitude in you and in me. May his Love envelop you and me so completely that we are overwhelmed with thanks.

When everything is stripped away, isn't that what the Gospel, the good news, is all about? God giving us something we neither expect or deserve? I am humbled by Papa's Love. I don't know how to react to it. It paralyzes me, and in that paralysis a whisper, a single breath resonates. "I Love you, Colin." That resonance ripples throughout my body and I am overcome by a sense of gratitude that simple words cannot express. No actions can express this gratitude, this humbling sense of worth.

Will you join a 19 year old with two black eyes and swollen nose in celebrating powerful Love?

Colin

Love Wins.

I've been following the recent surge of tweets and blog posts regarding Rob Bell's new book entitled "Love Wins" with some interest. Bell put out a video trailer for his upcoming book. Here it is:



I was first introduced to Rob Bell in Jr. High through the Nooma videos that my church youth group used at various camps and Sunday morning services. Since then I've read Bell's first book, "Velvet Elvis" as well as his most recent short "Drops Like Stars." I also listen to his sermons regularly via the Mars Hill Bible Church on iTunes. In some christian circles I'm already disqualified as following a false prophet.

For those of you still reading:

Because of this video Rob Bell has been accused of being a "universalist." The tweet that sparked the forest fire on twitter was by John Piper. In it, he simply said "Farewell Rob Bell" with a link to a blog post by Justin Taylor entitled: "Rob Bell: Universalist?" You can read his entire post yourself for more context, but Taylor's key point can be wrapped up in this quote:

It seems that this is not  just optimism about the fate of those who haven’t heard the Good News, but (as it seems from below) full-blown hell-is-empty-everyone-gets-saved universalism.

If you follow Christian tweets or blogs at all I'm sure you've heard the response to these accusations and labels. Now that the waters have begun to settle, the overall equilibrium response seems to be "Ok, what Rob Bell said is definitely a little out there. But let's just wait until the book comes out before we judge." I agree with this response, for the most part.

I've written about asking questions in the past. It seems that many people are scared of questions. The mere act of asking a question shows that you don't know it all. In the above video, you'll notice that Rob Bell makes no statements. He asks questions. And I believe that the content of the video is not what scares people the most and has invoked such strong responses. I think the scary thing to people is that they just might not have all the answers to his questions.

So yeah, I eagerly await the release of Bell's new book so that I can read it and hear exactly what he has to say. I'm not going to hop on the hatred band wagon because Rob Bell said some things that conflict with what some people consider to be doctrine.

But what happens when the book is released and Bell asks more questions that make me uncomfortable? Is it then alright for me to string up the noose, put the firewood around the stake, and nail the cross together?

What if the real problem is that I am simply unwilling to take a brick out of my wall of theology in fear that everything I believe in will come crashing down?

Here's one of the more tactful responses I've seen to the social media flurry:



I have more thoughts floating around in my head about this topic; those will have to wait for another post. I've done posts in the past regarding similar topics, feel free to check them out. Many of them have interesting comments as well.

• Are Jews going to Hell?
• Asking Questions
• “Brickeology” and Velvet Elvis

What are your thoughts?

Colin

P.S. here are some other thought provoking blog posts regarding "Love Wins." Great reads.

• Love Wins - Do You Have Itching Ears? by Chad Estes
• Heaven, Hell, and Rob Bell by Rachel Held Evans
• Why Aren't Fundamentalists Telepathic Comedians? by John Shore (not directly applicable, but along the same lines, and hilarious.)

Learning Love

Papa is so good.

Tomorrow I'm taking a step that will forever change my life. I'm entering Beast Barracks, West Point's Basic Training. Tomorrow I get my head shaved, and my first taste of the next four years. I'll be out of internet contact until August, depending only on letters as my form of communication. It will be difficult, but so good.

Yesterday I was at a Family Reunion with my dad's side of the family. It was so great being with people that I love and that love me. At a certain point my aunts, uncles, and cousins congregated in the main living room of the bed & breakfast we're staying at. My Aunt Janet stood and said that with all of the celebration of family, my acceptance and moving off to West Point needed to be recognized. She then proceeded to reveal a beautiful cake with the West Point crest on it. After the cake we watched a slideshow that my cousin Shannon put together which covered my entire life. It was so amazing, and she did such an incredible job; it really blessed me so, so much. After the slideshow my aunts, uncles, and cousins shared memories that they have with me. They gave me words of encouragement that I took to heart. It was healing medicine. Finally, my parents spoke. My mom expressed her heart and began to weep. My dad followed, equally teary as he shared about my lifeless birth and miraculous recovery. My parents encouraged me and breathed life into me. In many ways, tonight was CPR for my spirit. This whole experience has shown me that so many people love me. And it's relatively easy to understand that in my head. The trouble I've had has been with my heart. Tonight that transition happened. Rather then just knowing that people love me, I actually felt loved.


Last week I was in California. I drove down there with my parents, and spent a night with my Grandpa and Grandma and the next day at my aunt and uncle's house. Later my family connected up with Kona's family (who had driven down that day). I spent the next two days with Kona's family at Knott's Berry Farm in Anaheim. It was an incredible time. So many fun memories, like Stephen and I running around that night and Kona and I holding hands and enjoying the park. The next day we met back up with my family in Long Beach, got on a boat, and headed to Catalina Island. Catalina Island holds many, many special memories for me; my family has attended a Christian family camp there called CBS almost every summer since I was born. I've made some of my very best friends through CBS, and I've had the honor of working there in the past. This particular trip was especially amazing for me: not only was it a great vacation to precede Beast, but I got to share this trip with my Best Friends: Kona (my incredible girlfriend), Collin (my long time buddy), Kale (my hilarious cousin),  and Stephen (Kona's brother and my close friend). Not to mention my family and the rest of Kona's family. I'm not going to lie, the week was very hard. Staying in the moment proved very difficult, as I constantly knew that saying goodbye to my girlfriend was looming on the horizon. Kona and I made the best of the hard situation by spending time together, and with Kale, Collin, and Stephen. It really was a lot of fun, and I'm so glad I chose to go there before Beast.


These last few weeks have been utterly and completely fantastic. There have been so many laughs and memories, to be sure. Part of what this whole process has taught me, however, is this: love is something to be learned as much as it is something to experience. It is not something that ever stops revealing itself, rather it is something that reveals more and more with each year, experience, and relationship. Learning Love is not about figuring it out. It's not about suddenly defining a word that has baffled so many people for so long. Rather, it is an acknowledgement that love is more than just some fleeting emotion. Love is tangible and it is real. I've felt it in the air so thick you could cut it with butter.


Learning Love is a part of my journey. This last week has been extremely difficult, depressing, and confusing. Tonight, however, I feel free. I am loved. I haven't done anything to earn it, and yet it is true.

I am loved by my family.

I am loved by my parents.

I am loved by my girlfirend.

I am loved by my friends.

But most importantly:

I am loved by Papa.

And Papa is so good.


I'll talk to you in August! Your prayers would be greatly appreciated.
Colin

New Beginnings and Complacent Christianity

On Thursday, I leave Boise. On the 28th of this month, I start Cadet Basic Training. In early August, I start my first year of school at the United States Military Academy at West Point.

A lot is going through my head. Just graduated, just received my Eagle Scout, newly minted adult. I'm having trouble processing most of what's going on, and I've resorted to simply 'taking it all in.' I'm going to West Point with no expectations, and in preparation for that I'm taking each day leading up to Beast (Basic Training) one day at a time.

In the book Stumbling Souls: Is Love Enough? author Chris Plekenpol invites a gay, HIV positive, homeless man to live with him. Chris decides that merely inviting this man to Bible study, only to drop him back off at the street corner afterwards, isn't good enough. Chris is stretched with the question we've all faced when helping someone in need: how can I help them without enabling them? What can I give them that will help them, not hurt them? Chris decides to be the hands and feet of Jesus in the literal sense: he invites the homeless man, James, into his inner circle, and into his house. What Chris finds is that James is really the one helping Chris. Sharing Christ's love in a tangible way comes with incredible risk. Chris finds that the payoff is more than worth it.

I can relate to Chris on many levels. Chris held many of the same feelings towards homeless people before his interaction with James as I do now. In many ways, even the most compassionate mega church draws a line in the sand when it comes to helping people. We'll go into the park and feed them, but only if we can retreat back to our suburban houses afterwards to unwind and watch some cable. I hate to admit it, but I'm as guilty as anyone. How many times have I seen a homeless man or woman and thought "man, what brings them here, to this place in their life?" and then continued on my way to the movie theater to use the "anything helps" change on popcorn and candy?

"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in." Matthew 25:35

I think too often we assign value to Jesus' words, we recite the verses, and we preach sermons on the topics without ever living them out. We let the words of Jesus lead us when it's convenient, then "pray about it" when He says something we don't necessarily agree with.


Don't read Stumbling Souls: Is Love Enough? unless you want to be challenged. It will make you take a look at what you believe about tangible love. It forced me to ask myself the question "where is the line between listening to somebody and emotionally being there for them, and physically helping them, whether with money or other means?" I'm not sure I've arrived at an answer to that question, and I know that this book provided the catalyst for me to ask that question in the first place, and that's a good place to start.


The words of Chris Plekenpol hold a weight to me that is hard for others to understand. Chris is a graduate of the United States Military Academy at West Point, and is an experienced executive officer in the 82nd Airborne, as well as a combat company commander in the 2nd Infantry Division in Iraq. Chris took many of the same steps that I'm taking now. He went through many of the same emotions I'm going through now. And he made it.


Chris gives me hope. He give me hope that I can make it these next four years, then nine years, then 12 years, then maybe more. He gives me hope in his belief in Jesus, and that God is sovereign. He gives me hope in his acknowledging that "comfortable Christianity" is really "complacent Christianity" and that there has to be more.


Colin

How He Loves: A Song Story by John McMillan

The song "How He Loves" has been played frequently in churches around America lately, and covers have even been done by famous Christian bands like David Crowder Band.

I, personally, love the song and did a blog post on it a little while back. It is so real. So raw. So where I'm at.

This video posted on John McMillan's vimeo page makes the song even more powerful. It speaks for itself, check it out:


How He Loves : A Song Story from john mark mcmillan on Vimeo.

Colin

Keeping Portland Weird with my Sister

God's plan is so much better then ours, don't you think?

Last weekend my sister, Meg, and I took a trip to Portland. Really, it was for no other reason then to connect and love on each other.

As most of you already know, I'm headed off to West Point in a little less then a month. This summer is going to be intense as I go through basic training and move towards cadet life at the academy.

My sister wanted to take me somewhere for us to connect. We threw around some ideas, but none of them seemed to fit the grid for a place to both have fun, and connect with my sister. Finally, I landed on Portland.

Portland? Yeah.

I think my sister thought it was a pretty odd place for me to suggest, seeing as other ideas had been Lagoon and Silverwood (both theme parks.) Why Portland? Why not? I'd heard from several people that Portland is the cat's pajamas, and I simply had to go there and see what's up.  As my sis had been there before, I figured she could lead the expedition, not to mention the fact that she is great with directions (not a strong point for me.) Still, she felt more comfortable with having my GPS enabled iPhone with us.

My sister made the plans early on (about a month ago) and we were looking forward to the trip with anticipation, and rightly so! After all, where two or more Mansfield's (or Roe's) are gathered, there incredible fun can be found.

Last Saturday at 6am the trip began. We arrived in Portland at 6am, due to the hour flight and time change that worked in our favor. Here are the highlights of the trip, and how Papa really showed up:

Click here to read the rest.

Happy New Decade!

On the eve of New Years, 2009:

I was eight years old when the big 2000 came around. At the prompting of my parents, I can faintly remember what I was doing that night the ball dropped, and everyone held their breaths waiting for computers to fail.
Throughout the last 10 years, I've counted ahead to the year of my graduation.
"2010! Wow, how far away that is!"

The last 10 years have brought new friends, and birthed deeper friendships with those I've had since before I can remember. I've had killer birthday parties, bummer moments, and many great opportunities.
Thinking back (as far as I can remember) into the last decade, one thing sticks out in my head above the rest.
I've learned to love music.

Growing up, I never understood the point of music. Sure, I was that kid that knew all the oldie songs (thanks to my dad) and could sing "Yellow Submarine" or "Brown Eyed Girl" until something else, just as annoying or catchy, popped into my head.
I didn't get the core of music. Part of that probably was due to mere immaturity.

Regardless, I owe my love of music to Lee and Justin Gaupp. They showed me the heart of hardcore, the love behind lyrics, and the symbolism of symphony. Their ever-increasing taste for tunes inspired me to develop a music palette of my own, and it has since grown to include artists from nearly every genre.

Much has happened in my life since that realization. I've grown, and grieved. I've loved, and laughed.
Through everything, however, one band has remained close to my heart. Because of their lyrics? Partially. Because of their amazing performances? Incompletely. Because of their heart? Now we're talking.






From Wikipedia:

The band's name is an acronym for "Multi-sensory Aesthetic Experience,"

From their website:

Multi-Sensory Aesthetic Experience
is the study of sensation, perception,
emotion, and meaning in art and music.

Mae started in 2001, released their first album, Destination: Beautiful, in 2003 through Tooth and Nail Records, and have since released a total of six albums- with a seventh on the way, and have taken up the weight of a label all their own, called Cell Records. Their goal is to connect with people, and to do so through all of the senses. Their concerts are an amazing ensemble of music and video synced together to form not only an entertaining show, but an experience that will stick in your mind, make you think, and touch your heart. They are a concrete mix of lighter Alternative Rock to solid Rock.
To me, Mae is about more then music, they're about life. I've listened to them during the most depressing days, and during the brightest moments. When I hear a song, it's more than music. It's experiences, individual moments, and memories laced together with the needle and thread of harmony. I can see my past behind me, and I get a glimpse of the future before me. And, most important of all, it helps give me context for where I am now. This year, especially, their albums (m)orning and (a)fternoon have hit me right where I'm at. Life is a journey. I am in process. And Love is the most important thing to hold on to.

Perhaps one of their shirts says it best:

This decade has brought a smile to my face, and tears to my eyes, as has Mae. This decade has helped me realize that growing up is more then watching the years go by. Mae has given me a soundtrack for that realization.

I think that we've got what it takes, to get this heart start beating again.
So take it all the way.
Whoa, whoa.
And our hearts are on The Everglow.
So just let go and fall into it.

May this next decade be prosperous and incredibly real for you. May you grow, change, and draw near to Papa.

Colin






If it interests you, check out what Mae is doing now. Give them a listen. Particularly, go buy The Everglow, followed by (m)orning.

The One Year Anniversary of Ground Shaking

This year has been
changing
incredible
devastating
life changing
life halting
unbelievable
frustrating
real.

This blog has been one of the best outlets for me to process, share, grieve, be real, and have some fun.

And today marks the one year anniversary of Ground Shaking. One year! As I reflect on the many, many posts I've written, I can't help but reminisce. Reading posts from a different stage in my life really gives insight into how far I've come in this last year.

Thank you so much for reading. Thank you for participating in discussion, and for processing ideas and thoughts along side me. Some of you have been around from the very beginning, and some of you are reading this post as your very first. Either way, thank you for being a part of Ground Shaking.

And what of that name? Ground Shaking. A long time ago, I wrote:

'Ground Shaking' is a direct result of what I believe my purpose in life to be. Haha, I know right? That's a pretty intense statement. In all seriousness though, I've put a ton of thought and prayer into this aspect of my life. I've been challenged to think and re-think. Eventually, I was able to land on a one sentence phrase which I believe sums up my purpose. My purpose is to be an earthquake for Christ. I know that as time goes on, how I define my purpose will probably be sanded down and polished. It may even be broken in two and completely re-made. As I stand now, however, this is what I believe my purpose to be.

This year has proven to be both sand paper and polishing rag.

So, how has my definition of 'Ground Shaking' changed in the last year? In a few ways.

• I no longer see it as an act necessarily. Being a Ground Shaker doesn't require an action on my part- it's who I am.
• My effectiveness as being a Ground Shaker largely depends not on how I appear, or my surroundings. Rather, it depends on my being secure in who I am, and being 100% real in that environment.
• Love is an integral part of being a Ground Shaker, and Papa is Love.
• Ground Shaking doesn't necessarily mean speaking up because I feel I have to. Many times, it means listening and sincerely asking questions.

On this blog, I've shared my best times, and my worst times. Thank you for your discussion and thoughts as I've continued to develop what being a Ground Shaker means.

It's a process. Life, I mean. I'm in it, your in it, the President is in it, that guy on the corner holding a sign is in it. We're all in process. Just as this first year of my blog has held the best and worst of experiences, I anticipate this next year will hold amazing times, and frustrating periods. My life will, inevitably, change in the next year, and I will have things cross my path that are completely unexpected. What I'm beginning to realize is that all of that is simply a part of the process.

This I do know: Papa is especially fond of me. He loves me how I am, and is excited for who I am becoming. As much as He loves what I am interested in and what I do, He cares so much more for who I am. His love outweighs all the hate in the world, and his peace calms the most fearsome of storms.
He is the Alpha and the Omega. He is Love. He is.

The only reason I can have any impact on this world- ANY IMPACT- is because of Him. I am, because He is.

Fascinating how that works.

Am I a Ground Shaker? Yes.
And, I am only this because He has created me this way, and loves me how I am.

May this next year of blogging be even more terrific, profound, fun, ridiculous, and full of love.

Thanks for tagging along with me! Here's to a great start of year two!

Colin

Being Thankful

As I looked back at my blog posts, I realized this is my very first time blogging about Thanksgiving. Very cool, and very interesting.

To be honest, I feel like I don't have much to be thankful for this year.
My brother died. My grandma died.
If anything, this is the year I probably have the most reason to NOT be thankful for anything.

My family has a tradition at Thanksgiving. We each have a candle clipped on to our plate. One person starts with their candle lit, and they say one thing they are thankful for. They then use their candle to light the candle of the person sitting next to them. This continues until the entire table is ablaze with thankfulness- only then do we begin the meal.
In past years I remember wanting to get on with it so that I could taste the beautiful dark meat of the turkey, and the gravy-topped mashed potatoes. When my turn came to say what I was thankful for, I remember saying the normal things: "my family," "my friends," or "a great year" were classics. I wasn't being a selfish kid, I simply was taking for granted everything that should have meant something in my life. Taking for granted the very thing that made the food on the table possible. Ironic.

In many ways I feel like my response to the thankfulness candle this year could simply be "pass." I've got the excuses and the reasons to be sure. In fact, my family as a whole has every reason to give a big resounding "pass" to the question of thankfulness in 2009.

But I don't think that's at all what Thanksgiving is all about.

The Pilgrims who originally celebrated Thanksgiving weren't giving thanks for the easy situations, simple problems, and "safety", they were giving thanks for avoided fatalities, survival, and friendship. They were giving thanks for what little they had.

History put aside, can I honestly put on a sour face during Thanksgiving? Can I honestly spit in Papa's face for all the relationships he's given me this year? Can I, in good conscience, go pout in the corner and let every joyful moment of the past year slip my mind? No, I really can't.

Is it true that shitty events have taken place in the life of Colin Mansfield this year? Undoubtedly.
And yet, I have so much to be thankful for.

• One year anniversary of dating my girlfriend, Kona Estes.
• My nephew, Cole, who will be turning two this January.
• A dog who, despite losing both of her eyes this year, remains happy as a puppy.
• True friends who have incredible senses of humor, will pray with me when I need it, and will tell me to shut the hell up when I need it.
• An amazing sister. Words can't describe how much she means to me, and how much closer we've gotten this year.
• A real relationship with Papa. I used to know him as my God. Now he's more, he's my daddy.
• The realization of what Love is. And who Love is.

This is in no way a complete list, or even the start of one.

I really do have loads to be thankful for. And, like the Pilgrims, much of it has come through looking through the lense of loss.

This year, when I get the candle passed to me, I won't have to say pass. Nor will I feel inclined to say any old thing because the turkey is calling my name.
This year, I'll be able to speak with the knowledge that I have so much to be thankful for.

What are you thankful for?

Colin

The Great Romance

So God created us in His image, and He is love.

We are created in the image of Love.

God created us for relationship; with Him first, then with each other.

How does this romance work?

Men naturally will defend women, without thinking.

In the Bible, we are likened to the bride, and Christ to the bridegroom seeking after his bride.

Just as men will naturally protect and care for women, God will naturally protect and care for us.

And with danger looming, how much more?

What would happen if everything we look at: the trees, our jobs, board meetings, donuts, our spouse, girlfriend, or boyfriend, related to this Great Romance?

Not like all connected, but all depending.

What would happen if we're not just affected by God's Love, but we depend on It?

The closer we draw to Him, into the arms of our Papa, the further we get from darkness, hurt, fear, and pain.

Papa, draw me close.

Colin

From DC to Annapolis to Philly to West Point

Today was a whirlwind of the best kind.
Right now I'm on the East Coast with my dad, and let me tell you it's been a blast!




We flew into DC last night and immeadiatly went to the White House and Capitol building...at 1:30am! It was an awesome experience to be sure. After done with our late night adventure, we took the 45min drive to Annapolis and stayed at the Holiday Inn Express. A great start.




Today was awesome. I've never done anything like it before; seen so many tourist and classic American spots in one day! Starting on Annapolis, we grabbed bfast at Carrol's then headed over to the Naval Academy to look around, and, as a Go Army family, urinate on the parade grounds. Ok, maybe we didn't :) all the same, USNA was a cool sight to see and place to experience. After visiting the gift shop, it was back in the car.



East Coast countryside is beautiful to drive past. Brilliant trees, ground moist from fall drizzle, beautiful sky.
But Philly is a whole other world.

If you were to take New York City, give it a traditional feel, get rid of the huge buildings, and make the people have REAL attitude, you'd get Philly. Let's just for comparing them to NY I'd probably get shot.
So, we did the rounds. Cheese Steak at Jim's was the biggest must-have, so we went there first. I got a steak sandwich with whiz and onions, and it totally hit the spot. :) something beautiful about eating Philly Cheese Steak...in Philly! Also, we got to see the bar featured in the movie 'Invincible' (pictured).



And now, back in the car, we're headed to West Point in NY! Tomorrow will consist of Touring USMA, then heading into NYC for some Little Italy goodness.

This has been so amazing! I totally can't wait for the days to come! We'll be headed back through Philly to sight see, then to DC for some touring before heading back home.
If ya want to follow my trip, head over to http://Twitter.com/ColinMansfield

Colin

Rescuing the Damsel in Distress

What has become of my generation?

Guys treating ladies like trash, girls showing themselves off like trophies to be won. It makes me sick to my stomach.

I take one class at a public high school. Walking down the halls on any given day, I'm astounded at what I see. Gentleman! What kind of monsters have we become? Ladies! Where did the innocence go? The insecurity flows like an ocean tide, filling up the entire building until all that is left and felt is a current of emotions, chief of which is lust.

Oh man! My heart just weeps! So many girls without fathers, without someone who has actually loved them in their life. Looking for a guy to fill them up and make them feel wanted. A guy to just hold them and accept them for who they are. A guy to hold their hand, loan them their sweatshirt, kiss them on the nose. These girls, looking for a love to just BE with them instead get-

Guys! You make me ashamed to walk in the midst of a crowd of females at a school. Where did the expectations of being a "tough guy" come from? Where did the arrogance and fake self-assurance come from? You think you're so cool? You think you're so tough? Try being a gentleman, even for a second. You go to parties, drink, do drugs-all just to show off how cool you are. Try taking the harder road for even one day!

Honestly, I'm pretty disgusted at this whole Twilight thing. It's not the books that kill me. It's not the storyline or the characters or the premise. I get the whole vampire thing. I even get making that in to a romantic story. Here's what I don't get: WHY DOES OUR SOCIETY INSIST ON FOCUSING ON INSECURITY? Can't you see? Don't you understand? Are you so blinded?

JESUS LOVES YOU!!!

Girl's, you don't need to be filled with a guy. You don't need a boyfriend. You need Papa's love. And He is so here to give it to you.

Guys, you don't need to filled up by chicks, porn, or partying. Papa loves you the way He made you: a warrior and lover for Him.


We are the Damsel in Distress, and God is our rescuer. We are the bride, and He is the Bridegroom. God loves us, cares for us, seeks us, woos us, fights for us, defends us. He is here for us in EVERY fashion and in EVERY conceivable way.

I'm speaking to my generation.
Papa loves us so much. He hugs us in His warmth and joy, and has created us to love each other. Why do you resist such great love? Why do you try to find this love in the wrong way? It's all right here, right in front of us.
God is rescuing us, the Damsel.

But then again, who am I to talk? Who am I to judge? I'm just as sick as the rest of my generation- hypocritical, distracted, and seeking the Love of the Creator. Jesus, would you heal my heart?

Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.

Let those words of the Psalmist ring true in my life.

Papa! Hear the cry of my heart! Don't you see what my generation is going through? Don't you see the broken households, the unloved, the depressed? Lord, save us. But, even more importantly, Love us; for what is salvation without Your Love?


A groan from the heart of Colin

Of The Deepest Things in Life: Love, Happiness, and Coffee.

This is a story I wrote for an English paper. I really liked the way it turned out, and thought I would share it! Don't mind the underlined words, they were a requirement for the class. Also, don't mind the font changes. Word doesn't like copy & paste. :)

Let me know what you think!

In 1974 it was built, a coffee shop from the beginning. Its basement had been designed as a roasting floor, and the top level was a café- not unlike those of today. It was a pioneer in this department; not many coffee shops existed then. It wasn’t until the mid-80’s that it gained what we would call “espresso” now. The building found itself in the hands of a new owner, and the shop found itself with a new name. People would come in, get their specialty coffee, stay and talk a while, then exit and continue on with their lives. The building saw life open up before it: friendships forming, breaking news being read, love blossoming in one corner of the room while it withered in the other. Dramatically, the coffee shop saw all this and more: the transformation of technology as newspapers turned into laptops and books turned into eReaders. The wooden seats gave way to couches. Years would pass. Like the people, the seasonal coffees would come and go. Newcomers would become regulars, young students would become middle aged people, and the store would pass from owner to owner. Employees came and went nearly as often as those buying coffee. The shop even found itself under a “Green Mermaid” for a time- which also passed. The sun rose and fell, and still the coffee shop remained. The aromatic stench of Arabica beans roasting greeted passerby’s nostrils each morning. Entering the building, one found themselves greeted not only by the smell, but by the sight: tan walls with brown crown molding, lights shining through butcher paper providing an affectionately peaceful glow, and baristas greeting them with warm smiles and warm brews.

This story revolves around the events of one day in the life of one such barista. This coffee shop which Mike works in, tells a thousand stories of life, love, passion, peace, conversation, and people. This is the climax of all these things in Mike’s life; all brought about because one girl walked into the shop on a sunny afternoon in October, not too long ago. Mike purposefully reached down and pushed the doors open. Since he should probably unlock them before attempting to apply any further force, he grabbed his keys, put them in the lock, and opened the door. Making his way across the dark room, he reached the light switch and flipped it. In their typical half hazard fashion, the dreary-dust-colored lights sprung to life. Mike shrugged the backpack he had been carrying off, as he grabbed it with his free hand, then violently threw it into the employee’s closet with unnecessary force. Reluctantly moving to his spot behind the counter, he started the typical morning activities.
After working so long in the coffee business, all five years he’d been in college, Mike had grown generally numb to the typical tasks of the day. Initially the job held awe and wonder for a fresh-out-of-high-school student. He had mastered the various parts of creating the perfect cup of black bean juice quick enough. It didn’t even take him that long to learn all the regular’s names and drinks. Yet, after so many years of doing the same thing, Mike was tired. Grabbing the house coffee thermos, he put it under the drip machine. Then, grabbing a filter, he slid out the hatch on the drip machine where he would insert the grinds. Throwing the filter into the contraption, he slid it under the coffee grinder, then turned the grind switch to the ‘on’ position. Crunched between their mighty slices, the blades immediately began to grrrriind the coffee beans. Mike stepped back and looked at the room. Same dusty colored walls, same old couches, same sticky counters. Click. The coffee stopped grinding. Mike grabbed the drip contraption and, sliding it from the coffee grinder, he inserted it back into the mighty drip machine. Grabbing a pitcher, he poured the right amount of water into the hatch which was located above the coffee grinds. The machine began brewing the coffee on its own accord; Mike waited for the first drips of the medium house blend, then moved the coffee thermos so that the drips fell into its depths. In this same manner, Mike went about preparing the shop in the tediously detailed ways only a barista can. Shari, his coworker for the day, showed up right before the first customer. Mike had never really liked people who ordered coffee. “Now don’t get me wrong,” he would say to his friends, “I love making coffee. It’s the people that kill me! They’re so snobbish and stuck up. It’s like being a limo driver- people don’t really want to see you, because they just want what you have to offer. On top of that, you get to drive around in a limo all day but never actually get to experience the limo. ”
As the first customer approached, Mike shot out a “Good morning! What can I get for ya?”
The man replied, “Uh, yeah hi. I’d like a quad Americano with about a half inch of cream and two Splenda.”
At this, Mike would normally respond with a Sure thing, but decided to switch it up a bit today. What’d he have to lose?
“Do you want me to throw a couple extra shots in that for ya, or will four do it?”
The man looked at Mike, rolled his eyes, and didn’t respond.
“Right, quad Americano coming up.”

After the man left, Mike checked his tip jar. Despite his antics, the guy had still tipped $.75. Not bad. Mike’s favorite was when some idiot would tip three cents after a perfectly normal interaction. Being a barista, Mike understood that the biggest insult wasn’t not tipping, it was tipping an incredibly low amount. Favorably for him, the man had avoided a sin which was unforgivable in most coffee circles. At least he wasn’t a complete moron.

Mike often described his life in shades of sepia. “How was your day?” People would ask him. “Oh, it was fine.” would be his response, without hesitation, and almost without fail. Although not completely in unrest, Mike was lukewarm. He was flimsy in regards to just about anything you can think of. His opinions were wet noodles. The only thing he knew for sure was that he liked making coffee. This shop, what with its bustle of senses made him feel like he had his life in order. All he had to do was down an espresso shot, and look around the room. The coffee, which was thick on his palette, reminded him of the unsuccessful pick up lines the guy in the back was using on the lady he sat next to. The smell of the coffee in the air mixing with assorted pastries smelled almost as good as that lady’s perfume who just walked by. The smooth middle of the shot on his central tongue was as solid as the man’s intellect in the corner; you could almost feel the paper between his fingers as he turned the page in the latest novel he was devouring. The grand finale of the coffee, with its aromatic and fruity finish, reminded him of the hordes of people who brought their laptops throughout the day: typing, typing typing, as if they were taking notes on a subject they just knew they were going to fail the test on. Honestly, Mike enjoyed the bustle of the day because it kept him from seeing his own life, from having to deal with his own issues. Mike was living in a state of apathy.

When noon rolled around, Mike, who decided not to take his customary lunch break to Zen Bento stayed and took advantage of the employee discount on parmesan bagels. This act alone would forever change Mike’s life, for just as he would be leaving the store a young woman walked into the shop. Peering around the room, she looked Mike directly in the eyes. Down the middle of the coffee shop, she walked, never breaking the glance, straight to the ordering counter. Like a mythological siren. “I got this one,” Mike said to Shari. Then, to the girl, “Can I help you?”

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Sam pushed the doors of the coffee shop open. She stopped at the entrance, and looked around the room. Beautifully colored walls, a rich cream color with dark oak crown molding. Giving off a beautiful golden hue, the lights seemed inviting and calm. Even the floor, a shining bullion color, seemed to radiate peace and happiness. Sam walked in, completely stoked to grab a cup of coffee from such a quaint shop. Looking towards the register, her eyes met those of a dark haired man. He wasn’t entirely handsome, and yet had something mysterious about him. This was someone who had gone through much in his life. This was someone with a story, a past. This was someone who, given enough time, could be your best friend, someone’s ultimate safe house of confidence. This guy, given the right circumstances, would build a wonderful life with wonderful people to support him. By the time all this had gone through Sam’s head she was already at the register. She saw the brown-haired guy whisper something to the other girl behind the counter, while standing there. Then,
“Can I help you?”
“I’d sure hope so!” was all she could think to say. “I mean, you’re the barista and everything. I’ll never be able to make coffee like you!” Why was she stumbling over her words?
“Ok…” said the man, “Well then, what can I get for ya?”
“I’m not entirely sure. What’s good?”
“Pretty much everything. You partial to anything in particular?”
“I like my coffee like I like my men. Rich and black.” Oh man, the joke slipped out.
He chuckled, then straightened back up as if she hadn’t said anything.
“Just finished brewing the house blend. You want some?”
“Sounds as good as anything. Could you leave some room for cream?”
“Sure thing.”

---------------------

Rich and black? Really? Wow.
Mike liked this girl- mostly because she seemed like the type of person who would be easy to talk to. Probably the type of person who always had a tight group of friends in high school. The type of person, although exactly opposite from him, someone he would like to relate to. As he turned back around, she asked a question that caught him completely off guard.

---------------------

“Are you happy?”
Sam said the words before she even thought about their implications.
“Excuse me?”
“Happy. Are you happy?”
Quickly reacting, he said “I guess so.” Then smiled, “I get to make coffee all day- who wouldn’t want that, right?” No sarcasm, but a definite undertone of spite.
“Yeah, I see what you mean. How about this, what is it that you love doing?”
“Love?” responded Mike.
“Yeah, love. You know, opposite of hate. Overused word too many guys whisper into the ears of high school sweet hearts. Love.”
Both chuckled at this.
“I guess I’ve never really thought about it.” Said Mike, “love is one of those things that’s always been ambiguous to me. I guess my life has been a series of moment-by-moment decisions.”
“So you’ve never considered love in your thinking process?” asked Sam.
“I guess not, no.” responded Mike.
“Give it a shot sometime. You might find you like it.” Sam winked, then turned away, coffee in hand.

---------------------

The conversation had been odd. Deep, to be sure, if not a bit awkward. He had grabbed her a cup of the house coffee, tossed in the cream, all without even paying attention to his actions. His mind had been fully engaged in her questions; in her. How was it one girl had captured his attention so suddenly? And yet it wasn’t truly her, although her sandy hair and blue eyes definitely played into it, it was her questions. Who talked about happiness? Love? Were these things to discuss over a mere purchase of a house coffee? As she turned away, he noticed she left her money on the counter to pay for the drink. When he looked up, she was halfway to the door. Gliding, like an angel. “An angel? Yeah, an angel” thought Mike. Straightening his posture, he darted around the counter, lungs bringing in the coffee-laden air in quick intakes. Suddenly, he could feel the sticky mixture of sweat and coffee grounds on his fingertips- he smelled like all-purpose cleaner, he just knew it. Why so self conscious all of a sudden? Moving with a purpose, yet not totally sure what that was, he caught up with Sam when they were three-quarters the way to the front door. She turned.

---------------------

There he was, standing in front of her. Why? Breathing heavier then was necessary, smelling like all-purpose cleaner, and jeans smudged with coffee. But there he was. Moments ago she had shared the gift of thought with this man. He was in process, but then again, wasn’t she?
“I’ve never really done this before.” He stalled.
“Approached a complete stranger after they bought coffee from you?” Sam asked.
He laughed, less awkwardly then before.
“That, or asked that complete stranger out before. Not like a date, but just like, like a conversation between friends.” Mike responded.
She paused. A million thoughts rapidly rushed through her mind. In the end, wasn’t this just another son of Adam who was scrambling to find out his place in the world? A child of Him, wanting to be loved. Because of this simple fact, wasn’t he just like her?
“I’d like that.” Sam said. Then, “Over a cup of coffee?” She winked again.

---------------------

And so a meeting of two people ended in friendship. Over time the coffee shop would witness this friendship metamorphosis into a deeper relationship. Over many more discussions and jokes, this relationship would hatch into full blown love. The coffee shop remained as it always had been, stationary. The smell of freshly roasted beans, caramel-colored espresso shots being pulled, and the sweet aroma of mixing syrups. The same sounds: coffee grinding, an ice machine groaning, conversations of people mixing into a wonderful harmony of oration, milk steamers purring and creating frothy blankets which sat on lakes of cream. The sights remained the same: laughing couples, electric outlets in constant use, a teen with earbuds drowning out the world, coffee cups in every hand. The air even felt and tasted the same- a velvet and thick coffee undertone in every breath. And yet, within this stationary object, a relationship gave birth to two people in love. A daughter of Eve, and a son of Adam, joined in that same union which is meant for everyone with the Creator. Finally, through this story, one of the greatest mysteries of all time is brought to light: how is it that in such a broken world of sepia tones and lukewarm emotions, something as pure and faultless as love can exist? How is it that the simple act of caring, of showing love, can mend hearts together? And how is it that when hearts get mended, love is multiplied? Finding the answers to these questions is done only through experiencing that Love, that Happiness.
Mike would say it all starts with one decision to not eat out at lunch break. His wife, Sam, and their two kids would have to agree.