Tuesday, June 22, 2010


Found myself journaling and scribbling words in my journal a mile a minute today.  I thought I might share with you some of the inner chambers of my heart.  If you ever wanted to be a fly on the wall of Wagner's heart, here's your chance.  An excerpt from my journal musings today...

I've found myself not worshipping the GOD of my journey, but, rather, the journey itself.  I want to worship the GOD of my journey and not what He gives me or where He takes me.  If I were truly worshipping God, I believe I would embrace more fully where I'm at and entrust myself to Him...and the rest of my journey, too.

I think I began worshipping God -- but somewhere along the way, I became twisted, manipulated, and corrupted.  I was told to take my eyes off the Creator and onto the path.  So I did.  I took my eyes off the upward sky as they would behold its Creator and shifted my attention to the dirt path under my feet.  My attention was paid to the path -- not the Maker of the path.

I soon began looking at the dirt road before me, under my feet, and even started looking backward.  I longed for what was behind.  I longed for the flourishing greenery, the cool water, and the gentle breeze that I could see behind me.  I looked back and saw all this while in a dry, hot, and barren land part of the path.  As I look to the path (especially while standing in dry heat, dust, barrenness), my heart loses hope for something better to come. All I know that is good now stands behind me.  The flourishing greens, the cool water, and the cool breeze seems as if they wave to me up ahead.  Their waving seems like mockery.  So I look to and cling to its familiarity, and, no doubt, presence.  It's all that I know if my eyes are planted and gazing upon the trail.  All I can see is what's behind and what's directly under my feet.  And I don't dare stare at what's directly under my feet -- it's too painful.  What's directly under my feet is nothing more than dry dust and no hope for a better tomorrow.

But when I lift my eyes, lift my eyes to the Creator of this journey, I have hope for a better tomorrow.  I have hope.  I have hope because I know the Creator is creative; I know He creates nothing less than beautiful; I know He desires beauty for the characters; I know He is trustworthy; I know He loves His characters.  I know He is good.  I know He has been faithful; I know He completes the journey; I know that He doesn't abandon His characters; I know that in every stroke of the brush, He paints with intricacy and precision.  I have hope because the Creator of my journey loves me.  And not with an indifferent kind of love, but with an aggressive, jealous love.

But it's only when my view of the Artist is correct that my eyes are compelled to gaze upon Him.  It's only when I see Him correctly that my eyes gain strength to lift themselves from the path to the sky.  My eyes began feel weary and droop when my view of the Artist is faulty.  For when my view is faulty, there is no hope.  I find no hope in an Artist who is emotionally removed from His creation; no hope in an Artist who doesn't desire good for His characters; no hope in an Artist who doesn't love His creation.  I find no hope in an Artist who isn't good.  And these are the things I find myself believing when my heart is not aligned with my Great Artist, my God.

Look up.  For there is hope.  A hope that will never disappoint.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

You're Invited!

They're here!

After much anticipation and waiting, the students have finally arrived in VA Beach!  After a week of staff planning, bonding, and mischievousness, we now feel mostly complete with the arrival of our students (still anxiously awaiting full completion with our sweet quarter students' arrival).

Being here in VA Beach with our staff team (and now students) has felt just like downing the largest bottle of cold water ever in the middle of parched desert.  My soul has felt refreshment it has yet to taste in a long while.  My heart feels cared for, spurred on, encouraged, and even desired to be known.

As sweet conversations with friends flavor the local coffeeshops, the boardwalk, the city streets and sidewalks, the sandy beach, and the humble Cerca Del Mar hotel, may others hear of a more beautiful story.  My heart feels beckoned and called to a "be all in" my story.  There's a gentle voice, that speaks to the deepest parts of me, inviting me to live.  Inviting me to experience freedom.  Inviting me to a beautiful, transcendent story.  You're invited!  Will you join me?