Author: Kevin Carver

Fearing Fear and Then Punching Fear in The Face

I remember standing in line at Space Mountain, Disneyland—six years old or so. My older brother and sister were there, maybe my mom. Yeah, definitely my mom.

Knees buckling. Tears building. Fear grabbing.

Space Mountain? Could there be so terrible a place? My brother was pushing me along in line; this was not a good sign. He was always trying to get rid of me. What evil plan had he concocted now?

Escape. I had to. Closer and closer we inched, past the TVs and the red, terrifying flashing lights. Finally, it came. The exit door. After an hour, we were so close to getting on the ride.

I could just do it, I thought, go on the ride. Would I really fall out?

I looked left and saw the exit sign, then to the right towards a deeper entrance to the ride, then to my brother who was evilly nodding his head. Now or never, I thought.

Tears bottled up, I went for it. Running as fast as I could towards the door, kids laughed behind me and I heard my brother yell. I bursted through the exit; bright-white concrete sun blinded my eyes and I collapsed on concrete—crying my head off.

New Fears, Old Chum

For those of you who may have missed the news, Rochester, New York is now officially in our sights. Scholarships and grants came through in a big way from the University there. We’ll be moving sometime in summer.

See kids, dreams do come true.

It’s bittersweet, really. We’ll be leaving San Luis Obispo—SLO town—and I love it here. I grew up here. I moved away for a number of years; since we, my wife and I, moved back, our time here has been well spent and well loved.

Old chums, new pals, boogie boards, farmers market, breakfast burritos—reconnecting.

All good things come to an end? I guess; new things can be good too. Also scary.

Fear, get out of my face.

It’s too easy to fall into fear’s trap. We listen to the negative over the positive; we cave in and take the easy way out. The greatest, most terrible side-effect of fear is that it keeps us from doing what we love: accomplishing goals, moving across country, or say, eating octopus.

What if fear was just a tool that we could use for our gain? Recently, I’ve come to terms with fear. Well, I’m trying to at least. See, fear isn’t some trick of the devil. It isn’t Satan’s test. It’s just a test.

Without fear, personal cost couldn’t be measured. For example, would the water be as sweet if I didn’t fear jumping off the rock? Would it even be worth it? I’m starting to wonder.

I encourage you to embrace fear for what it is: a mere tool. Use it for YOUR gain. Mark your dreams by how much they scare you, then reach for the scariest one.

When fear over steps its boundaries, punch it in the face and go on the ride. Space Mountain is totally worth it.

Photo Credit Top [http://www.flickr.com/photos/disneyworldsecets/2768351879/]

Photo Credit Bottom [http://www.flickr.com/photos/joeandy/47529326/]

Consumer Zombies on Record Store Day

Record Store Day. I participated this last weekend—April 20th, 2013; it was great. My fourth year partaking, this “holiday” has become quite the tradition for me.

I walked away with an Avett Brothers/Randy Travis single, and just barely got my hands on a Bowie 7-inch; that sounds dirty.

What’s that? You don’t know what Record Store Day is? (loser). Let me explain.

It’s a one-day celebration of local record stores. Artists release exclusive, limited vinyls and CDs that can only be sold at mom and pop-local shops. SUCK IT iTunes.

Kids like me eat this stuff up.

We get there early. We line around the block and talk to each other about music. We rush inside and spend way more money than we ever normally would. Our wives make fun of us…

You get the gist.

Record Sales

I didn’t get everything I wanted. In fact, I barely got anything I wanted. This year was insane. Since I’m in San Luis Obispo this year, I lined up at the famous Boo Boo Records. The last few years were in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho; people there are just getting around to iPods so you couldn’t expect much from their shops.

Simply, RSD isn’t as big of a deal in Idaho. A few collectors maybe show up. Not many.

Down here, people care about this stuff. Boo Boos gets almost one of every release. That’s unheard of!

My wife dropped me off early so I could get a good spot in line. She left for a Breakfast Buzz Burrito, and I squatted. RSD is kind of more, my thing. Shortly after, the line inflated. People wrapped down the block and curved beyond my line of sight. Luckily, all behind me.

Good timing, I thought. That White Stripes LP rerelease is mine!

Record Hells

Oh what’s that? They’re letting everyone in at the same time? RUN!!!!!

Don’t worry, I thought, maybe they’ll spread the records throughout the store to keep people from swarming in one small area. This should be easy, in and out.

Nope. Definitely not easy. Almost died.

There was one little bin of records for three hundred little hands. Standing in line was absolutely pointless. I could’ve arrived last and elbowed my way to the front. Before I knew it, I was completely surrounded in hipster hell.

Hands, elbows, knees, eye-glasses, beards. People yelling. “Give me one of those, bro.” “HAND ME, ME, DUDE.” I looked behind me to see my wife, white eyed, backing away slowly. I hope to see her again, I thought.

People pushed and pushed. The crowd became bigger and more intense. Worst yet, there was nothing in my hands. White Stripes was gone, duh. The LPs, the good ones, they go fast. What did I want? What was my back up?

Get your hands in there, I thought. So I pushed back and reached in. The singles, I thought. Go for the singles. I pulled out two that were on my list. The crowd was getting worse. The pressure grew higher. The air tighter. The people. Pushing. Screaming. Fingers reaching. Are these people going to eat me?

I have got to get out of here!

Good thing too, because I couldn’t. Boo Boo Records has one of the largest shops I’ve ever seen; yet, they placed all their exclusive albums in one small bin near a corner in the back. Thanks guys. There was no way out.

If I knew I was going to be trapped, I would’ve brought a snack. Also, a good thing, these people all were magically sweaty in a matter of minutes.

The Walking Sales

Needless to say, I lived. Boo Boos could’ve planned the day a little better, but they did give donuts out to those who waiting in line. All is forgiven.

This day made me think a lot about consumerism. I remember being in the middle of that giant crowd and thinking, I don’t really need any of this. It’s not really fun when it gets cut-throat.

Am I just getting older and growing out of the whole “consumerism” thing?

Maybe I’m just a poor sport and need to bring snacks next year. And spike studded shoulder pads.

Did anyone else partake in Record Store Day? I’d love to hear some other stories of crazed consumerism.

Versatile Blogger Award!

Well, well, well. Looksy what eye’s got here. A bloddy blawgah award! (Can you tell I’m in a good mood?)

I was recently nominated for a Versatile Blogger Award by Adeline from Dancing in the Storm. She writes a great blog about her faith, her marriage, and her missionary work. She says that writing keeps her “grounded,” reading her posts does the same for me. Thanks Adeline!

Embarrassingly I must admit, a couple months ago I was nominated for this by Tony from his amazing blog, A Way With Words. Tony, thank you. I’m sorry this took me so long! Simply, your blog inspires me to be a better writer.

To accept the award, I have to tell Adeline and Tony seven things about me. Let’s keep this brief.

Seven About Kevin

1. I started the year in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho; the next day moved to San Luis Obispo, California. By Fall, Rochester, New York will be my home.

2. Science fiction is my favorite fiction genre. I grew up watching The X-Files, and reading books about UFOs and conspiracy theories. I’m currently reading Sphere by Michael Crichton and it’s awesome.

3. I never wanted to sing, nor have I ever been good at it. Yet, I’ve fronted a local rock band AND led worship at various churches through the years. The microphone has always had it out for me.

4. Singer/Songwriters that inspire me: Denison Witmer, Ben Folds, The Avett Brothers.

5. Oddly enough, Ecclesiastes is my favorite book in the bible.

6. I’m married to a great girl named Megan. She puts sunscreen on my back. The beach and I have since reunited.

7. Favorite Movies: The Truman Show, Indiana Jones & The Last Crusade, A Bronx Tale, Empire Strikes Back, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind!

Fifteen I’ve Nominated

Around the time Tony nominated me, I had just taken up blogging again (at least, on a consistent basis). I wasn’t really sure what a blog award was.

Also, I was a wordpress hermit—there weren’t 15 other bloggers I knew to nominate.

Times have changed; we have microwave ovens now. I read more than I write, and I’m writing better because of it. The best part of this award is that I get to give this gift that was graciously given to me.

Here you go; you all deserve this (in no order):

1. Immortal Nobody

2. ArcSurf

3. Wild Magik II

4. Dream A Lot Louder

9. The Misfit Christian

10. Roots Like Oaks

11. Mark Block

12. Steak and a Bible

13. Pastor’s Ponderings

14. Hiking to Healthy

15. Omnia’s World

Thanks again Adeline and Tony. You guys are the best. I’m very, very grateful for this award.

Now on with the show!

The Folly of Academic Faith

A couple nights ago, one of my best friends sent me a text:

I was reading 1st Corinthians the other night and came across one of my favorite verses… it reminds me a lot of you and what I think is a major message you are tying to get across to other Christians.

He had my attention. Finding myself in scripture? I’ve given up on that. I find God; I find ancient people with worn stories. I find context and complexity. I don’t find myself.

I used to, but not anymore.

A side-effect of embracing the academic faith? No doubt. My spiritual journey of debates and alternate perspectives is what I know now.

Why would I be in scripture? I don’t need that any more.

The next text came through and my eyes filled with tears.

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but a croaking, rusty gate.

If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing.

If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.

I hesitated sharing this. Have I accomplished this? No way. Has anyone? Probably not.

We don’t find ourselves in scripture, but scripture finds us. It speaks to us. It grabs us and leads us. Scripture reveals the bits and pieces of us that God is shaping.

My friend Scott thought of me when he read this passage of Paul. I was honored, yet felt more like an impostor. I’m no man of love; more often than not, I fall into the “croaking, rusty gate” category.

My attitudes as of late… I think I’ve lost my way.

The Folly of Academic Faith

In these moments, I’m reminded of the folly of academic faith. We get so wrapped up in ideas. We get wrapped up in our heads, in ourselves. Beautiful simplicity—all too often, we forget it.

This last year I’ve been obsessed with meanings: Heaven, Hell, gay marriage, politics, gender roles, you get the idea.

It’s been rewarding—I would say I prefer it—though I must be cautious.

The academic faith. It’s a door to a man-made mansion with rooms added daily. We’ll never fully explore it, nor will we ever find our way back. Unless, of course, we mark our steps with love.

A warning to all of you like me. Though we yearn for debates and arguments, and we feel as if we must always dive to the bottom of every issue and search endlessly for every solution, we must not forget love.

Thank you Scott for sending me those kind words, and the wonderful reminder.

Signed,

A Modern Day Pharisee.

ANNOUNCEMENT: We’re Moving! (again)

Well, we finally know. For over eight months now, I’ve been anticipating answers: Where will I go to school? Where will Megan and I spend the next two years of our lives? What kind of food will I be eating?

I found five schools that spoke to me. Five universities in five different regions of the country. Five different prices. All too expensive. Megan thought I was crazy. Not because of my chances, but because of the distance to which I was reaching, the scope of it all. Also, I give her plenty of reasons to think I’m crazy each day.

So, we waited. And waited. And I lost hope. I began to look at plan b’s and cower from fear. Months and months went by. More times then I care to admit, #thewaitinggame got the best of me.

Finally, the letters started coming; better yet, the financial aid letters started coming. Monday morning, my heart shat its pants with joy.

Upstate and Away!

I write this in California. I sit with coffee and think of my family and friends here. Once again, I will be leaving them. I think of our friends and Megan’s family, in Idaho, who once again we will leave.

With a heavy, yet joyous heart, we have decided to move away from everyone we know and love. About 2700 miles away. As I get older, these things get harder.

The decision is this: we are moving to Rochester, New York! I will study Entrepreneurship and Economics with (hopefully) a minor in Creative Writing at the University of Rochester!

Best yet, my educational costs are completely covered. I was awarded a crap-ton of grants and scholarships! Think, three Little Caesar franchises. We’ll have enough to cover tuition, and a little extra to move there and get settled.

At this moment, I feel completely and utterly loved.

3 Reflections on Reaching Your Goals

(From the perspective of a poor boy who was given nothing)

1. Write down your goals on a piece of paper. Look at them everyday. Many books will tell you to do this; I was always hesitant. Monday morning though, I was able to check off the first four goals on my list. The best of which was this: go to a top university with a full scholarship. No debt for education.

2. Take responsibility for yourself and your situation. I was born into a family that didn’t champion higher education, nor did it have the money to do so. There was no fund waiting for me. I truly believe that everyone gets their chance. You might have to work a little harder, or wait a little longer, but it will happen.

3. Enjoy your goals with a thankful and modest heart. When I got the news, I called just about called everyone. I tried for CNN, but couldn’t get through. Excited doesn’t even begin to explain. Later, I had to check my motives. It’s okay to brag a little, but be cautious. Stay humble and move forward. We are all in God’s grace, every day.

PS: I couldn’t have done this without my wonderful wife! She is the best and I don’t know what I’d do without her. Thank you Lord for putting her in my life.

Is the Church a Boys Club?

This weekend we visited some friends in the Bay Area of California. Overlooking the Palace of Fine Arts, we sat in the park and talked faith, church, Star Wars… typical Christian stuff. Most important here, we discussed the roles of women in the church.

My wife, as well as my friend’s girlfriend, had some great wisdom to give. Their perspectives were shared with both frustration and grace. Women are battling issues in the church that men can’t even begin to understand.

(Hey boys!) Have you ever thought about the complexities of being a girl in the church? Do me a favor, next time you go, give every woman you see a high five.

They deserve it.

Since I am a man, I feel that I can solve this issue with a single blog post.

Girlie Stuff

My childhood church was definitely a boy’s club. Male senior pastors, male deacons, male elders. Women were allowed to be sunday school teachers, choir directors, or secretaries, but nothing more.

Paul’s words in 1 Timothy defined my views and 1 Corinthians confirmed them. I say this as if I knew scripture, but to be honest it was bleek. I listened and never questioned the general traditions of my church. Here’s what I knew (and assumed):

Women were not to teach men. Their life goals would consist of learning submission and quietness. Overcoming any resentment held towards men and any hostility held towards God would be their life’s work.

Eventually, I read the bible for myself. I read about Esther, Deborah, Mary, and Ruth. I read Luke. I read the words of Paul. I read context. I listened to wisdom and heard alternate, biblical views. I listened to my wife. I listened to my heart.

All this to say, I’m still sorting stuff out.

Your Mom was Stifled

I recently read The Blue Parakeet by Scot McNight. In it he talks about the various ways people read the bible. He mentions that everyone picks and chooses scripture; he calls it discernment. The problem, says McNight, is when our discernments become canon and our canon becomes the lens through which we view scripture.

The modern church has done this—it has, we have, shaped our traditions into canon. The stifling of women, I believe, is a prime example Evangelicals need to repent for.

(For more on Scot McNight’s great book, check it out HERE).

I’m not an expert on the subject of women’s roles, but I do hope to continue to learn. So far, this is what I’ve got:

The traditional church may be a boy’s club, but the Kingdom of God is not. We all have a purpose and a reason to be here. Seek what’s inside you and let it out.
We are all one in Christ—the curtain was torn, remember? There is no need for division anymore. Men need to teach women, and women need to teach men.
Every faith generation experiences a change of tradition in one form or another (Thinking back to Paul and circumcision, or twenty years ago to the contemporary worship movement). Expect turmoil and kickback. Offer grace, always.

What’s YOUR response? I encourage all with a perspective to participate. Please know, everyone’s view on the matter is welcome. Is the church a boy’s club? Have women been stifled, or am I making something out of nothing?

Photo Credit: [http://www.flickr.com/photos/74576085@N00/6335630844/]

The Number Kevin

linguistic chaos from my niche world

Author: Kevin Carver