Category: Uncategorized

If I had to identify my deepest source of shame, it’d be about something I don’t even think I was ever supposed to have—the ability to create a work of God out of thin air anytime I’d like.

I hear an accusatory voice say to me every day, “If only you had the character you should’ve had by now, God could trust you with (insert your dream here).” It seems the whole issue lies within turning stones into bread—something God created that belongs to everyone into what I create for myself using my God-given gifts.

—

Something evil happens when you’re guided not by the voice of God, but the amalgamation of what God has told everyone you’ve ever heard testify throughout the course of your life. Truly what will always be the beautiful task of bearing witness to what God has done in one’s life can be stewarded poorly, manipulated by the enemy of my soul to say, “Why hasn’t God done that for you? I’ll tell you why…”

God is the same in any tense—past, present, and future—but the directions he gives and even the mediums by which he gives them are unique and profound and specific. He doesn’t speak to me the way he speaks to you. He speaks Arvin, but he’s also fluent in (your name here).

But God is not a pair of shoes. You don’t get to see him beautifully exhibited in someone else’s life and simply ask them where that came from. The intentional lack of a roadmap has often been twisted in my life to serve as proof that I’m not trustworthy with a roadmap.

He gave (insert your hero’s name here) a roadmap, didn’t he? How come you can’t be trusted with an all-inclusive plan?

—

The whole thing is false. To even engage in the argument is to become distracted from what’s really going on. I know that. You know that. But I’ve too often spent the first 15-30 minutes of my quiet time apologizing for my inability to conjure up his power on my own without him.

What makes me think that’s what he wants from me?

Someone told me the true definition of witchcraft is “manipulation of deity.” Have I been wasting all this time repenting for my inability to manipulate him?

If I let myself be dramatic, surrendering to the self-pity in hopes that might motivate God to come through, I fashion myself a lover whose candles are lit and house is empty in hopes God will come and create a life with me. Is he still standing at the door and knocking? Why won’t he come in? Perhaps it’s the camera I set up in the corner—uploading live proof that he chose me and my house this time. He waited for Lazarus to die before he showed up. He waited for Jairus’ daughter to die before he showed up. What needs to die here? Could it be the battery in my camera?

—

If my quarter-century were a painting, the portion of the canvas that would immediately demand your attention is the part where a man escapes persecution with his wife and two kids. The strokes are beautiful and the punch lines exist right in their proper places—underground-hiding and country-jumping until it’s Oklahoma’s turn to tell a story.

And the canvas goes absolutely White—people, politics and lies: Welcome to Your Dream Come True™

Oh, he’s a preacher just like his father.

You should really read his blog.

I heard his book got picked up by a publisher.

and I don’t know how you’d evoke PRESSURE in a painting, but that’d be what you notice next.

Any other career would simply demand you show up and pay attention, right?

How come showing up for this one resembles not showing up at all?

Would this be any different if I were here with a Baal or Dagon?

—

Of course, the good news is we get to zoom out and realize this is nothing more than a blog post that’ll be utterly forgotten once Our Daily Bread shows up.

Thankfully, these are just the musings that enter a young man’s mind when he silently considers himself important but is still waiting, refusing to pick up any rocks, spears, or nails. The whole thing has me shook.

Did any of our legends or heroes wonder as they diligently sought and waited on God,

“Okay, but what if He doesn’t show up?”

And did that curiosity disqualify them? Did God cancel his RSVP when he found out fear and doubt were invited to the party? These are rhetorical questions, of course, because we all know the right answers.

—

I’ll move on because there’s simply nothing else to do here. Sadly, getting stuck here seems to be the fate of too many dear ones. Wonderingwonderingwonderingwondering until stones start to soften and you make a bet with yourself that the Greek word for bread is actually “stone.”

These are the nights where it’s almost 100% better to journal than blog, but I’m the one with the camera is the corner, hoping I’ll capture what proves me worthy.

People are cities.

Good and bad sections, yes. We ship/receive from others—we choose how much of their internal resources and energy will be devoted to the areas we want.

I choose what I’m about, what imports and exports I’ll allow and produce.

What does a city look like when negativity, the news cycle, and whatever else gets to roam free in it with no accountability?

I’d bet it looks like the average person I meet. Convenienced but anxious. The billboards reflect a culture that isn’t excited about the future. There are idols throughout, devoted to good things distorted and contaminated until they’re no longer good. Water supplies next to sewage plants. Priorities out of place.

Trojan horses have caused enough tragedies that I’ve taken a cue from one political leader and sworn off any/all horses entirely—lies dressed as truth had all but convinced me to hate the truth itself. No good deed goes unpunished and even kind thoughts are met with cynicism.

My initiatives to protect myself this way do just the opposite—the worst attacks come not at the hands of “immigrants,” but those city projects I myself have planned.

—

Oh, but the hope of being a Christian.

A city that’s bonded itself to Jesus Christ. The transition can take months or decades, but it immediately considers a reconstruction of everything. In other words, moving around here will take time, especially when dozens and dozens of thoughts from wherever take up valuable space.

The highway of my stream-of-consciousness would be relaxed, but the taxi cabs of social media and news and all of your opinions (as well as I can predict them) and shows and information—good or bad—clog everything up.

Thankfully, for the Christian, there’s a church somewhere in this city.

Sadly, for the average Christian, that’s where the construction starts and ends.

So the city goes on operating just as it did before, except with one or more parking lots being filled up once a week—a generous initiative here or there. Collaborations take place as well, but their intended ends are never reached due to their confused means.

Altruism? Helping others? The church liked the idea enough to open its doors, but the companies in this city that hoped to serve as sponsors clogged up the streets again—

I know I’m being almost entirely metaphorical here, so let’s take a break from the image I’m trying to paint in your mind and reflect on what this could look like…

//

It could look like what it’s looked like in my life—hoping to become Jesus’ pimp so his tricks (miracles, messages, etc.) will garner me the attention/currency/delight I’m really after. Setting aside countless hours of prayer so Jesus may entrust his power and kingdom to me so I can do with it what I like.

It could look like building an influential empire of your own in the name of “serving God’s kingdom.”

I harp on this almost all the time because the things about which I was warned every day throughout my childhood—drugs, alcohol and promiscuity—have just about left me alone while these putrid motives wreak havoc until I can’t tell the difference between loving Jesus and selling my gifts for your attention.

I’m funny, yes, so how can I make you laugh until you think you want me around more often?

I’m good at speaking, yes, so how can I convince you to listen to me more often?

I’m good at writing, yes, so how can I convince you to read more of me until I’m someone of notoriety?

It’s all aimed at getting someone else to vindicate/validate/appreciate/spread the word about me.

//

Until, of course, more construction is finally permitted—and everything in this city, from it’s inhabitants to the water lines beneath the surface to the bodies of water, are evacuated, destroyed and drained.

It used to look like a city—or a young man who shows enough promise to be trusted with scholarships and attention and microphones and money and even, “Hey! You should really meet my daughter.”

But after God has his way; his actual, all-consuming way, this place looks like a desert. Everybody moved out. Stadiums torn down. No one’s going to any events here. You won’t need this hotel, no one’s visiting.

Nothing left standing except that church—and in time, even that is torn down.

“Why?”

“It’s too small. And I’d rather put a garden there.”

“Why couldn’t you put the garden somewhere else so you wouldn’t have to tear this//my entire view of you and who you are//down?”

“There wasn’t any room at the time. Now, there is.”

“Yeah, you made sure of that.”

//

Of course, what’s happening now is God keeping his promise from Hebrews 12—

“Once again I will shake not only the earth but the heavens also…until only what’s unshakable will remain.”

He seems to show up and ruin everything.

//a grand opening dedicated to him was quickly and almost mistakenly evacuated before he tore your life and your view of him to pieces over and over again until the remnants were only visible on a molecular, post-human level//

“Since we are receiving a kingdom that is unshakable, let us be thankful and please God by worshiping him with holy fear and awe. For our God is a devouring fire.”

He sure is.

2018, as far as I’m concerned, should begin in that cozy space that is perfectly situated between “I know nothing!” and “I know everything!” Hyperbole among millennials isn’t something you run through like that goth/punk phase in high school. You don’t max it out until you’re balanced. On the other end, the Nihilism sits on the other side of our know-it-all attitudes, ready to lead you to nowhere. When you claim to know nothing, you absolve yourself of the accountability and responsibility of acting on what you know. “I know nothing” is also “I have permission to make whatever mistake I want.”

No, you don’t burst through nihilism or hyperbole. Both are idiots entertaining a party you’ve hopefully slipped out of while everyone else was blinded by the allure of celebrating less honest parts of themselves.

Arvin, what are you talking about?

I’ve had my fair share of know-it-all moments. 18-year-old Arvin gave out some pretty great marriage advice. 22-year-old Arvin kept going on and on about how he knew nothing. He was so proud of his honesty and (you’ll remember this word from college coffee shops) “transparency” about knowing nothing that he found himself offended at the notion that anyone would text or swipe while he was beautifully and dutifully articulating how thoroughly dumb 18-year-old Arvin (or anyone who ever wanted to be anything) truly was.

I know, it’s a nervous cycle. Technically, 25-year-old me is doing something similar in putting yester-Arvins on blast. What neither of them were capable of, however, is forgiving or venerating the other.

At some point, I hope you’ll have genuine mercy for the former versions of yourself every time you bump into them. Make peace without emulating them, inviting them to join you, or making those fake-plans-for-coffee you were once so good at making.

—

We need this because nothing says, “I don’t believe God can change me,” like hating on who you’ve been in the past. You don’t stand up and lash out at the annoying person in a restaurant you’re about to leave, do you?

It’s only when you know you’ll have to sit in the same space, theater, airplane as this annoying person that you consider speaking out in hopes they’ll change. What if that annoying person is that older version of you—who did eat all those cookies and slept through those 4:45 am alarms? You’ll be gracious when you know the door is about to open and you’re about to leave them behind forever.

You are patient and merciful when you’re convinced change is coming. I pray you’ll prove you believe in the you you’re becoming by showing some mercy to the you you’ve been.

—

And how are you when the space you’re sharing is not with the annoying, undisciplined you, but that future, sharpened and mature you—Your Best on Concentrate?

I’m finally secure enough as a writer, no—as a person—to tell you what I’ve learned by observing myself around beautiful women. Put me in a room with the boys from college and it’s “loosey-goosey this” and “impressions of that” and flailing arms and ugly laughter…until the last girl whose photo you liked on Instagram walks in and the chipmunk section at the zoo turns into a high-brow museum. High-pitched squealing and “tell that joke again” turn into marble-esque poses and heads nodding in the key of “O My! How Together I Have It”

Try this out for yourself the next time you plan to meet friends somewhere the lighting is intentional. I’m sure my female friends can share all about what happens when they say hello to a man they’ve happened upon—“Oh, uh…hello there” says the lowered voice of a terrified average joe. What’s that “uh” for, Alvin? Did you have to think of the word “hello”?

Of course he did. Alvin and his chipmunks’ brains slow down in the presence of someone or something beautiful. And that’s good, that’s reverence.

—

But what about when that someone beautiful is the you you know you’re gonna be? It’s probably still taboo to touch on self-confidence and esteem in such a frank way, but you’re still a hyperbole-wielding nihilist if you’re telling me you never think about the person you wish you were/hope to be someday.

The muscles get tighter and the appreciation of the moment gets more severe. I hope I’ll get to talk to you. I hope you’ll like who I am. I hope I get to leave with you. I hope you find me worthy.

—

You didn’t become who you are in 2018 overnight.

You’re going to bump into older versions of yourself every so often. When you do, I hope you’ll be gracious.

And speaking of grace, you’ll spend much of this year bumping into who you’re going to be someday—I’m not worried about your reaction. I know you’ll tense up in veneration and reverence, hoping 2019’s you will find today’s you attractive even though they’re obviously a light-year ahead of you. That beautiful person will walk in and you’ll go into marble-mode.

Seated comfortably between knowing everything and nothing, I hope you’ll genuinely smile and keep moving when you bump into your resolution-needing former self. At the same time, I pray you’ll notice the beauty and breathe-out your anxiety when you bump into who you’re going to be. 

2018—let’s go.

I’ll make you aware of two disclaimers:

First, the temptation I face in reviewing “David The Great” is to dive deep into my appreciation for the author. It wouldn’t be long before my flattery robs from the legitimacy of what I’d like to tell you. Full disclosure: I love Dr. Mark Rutland, but not in that millennial way you see when every good thing is captioned: “This. This is everything.” I appreciate Dr. Rutland, but I’ve also spent years reading everything he’s written. I humbly submit that I am in fact able to write a review of “David The Great” based on merit and not on that hyperbolic, viral-video scale you see elsewhere.

Second, I’d like you to know this post is utterly unsolicited. Marketers have realized the best way to reach readers is through readers. I’ve been on many teams that preview books and intentionally spread the word. I’m a big fan of this method and will continue to preview books. However, no one at Global Servants or Charisma House asked me to read/review “David The Great.” I’m writing this because my friends and I are desperate for solid wisdom and direction as we unapologetically beg God for His will and plan for our lives.

—

1 — Messiness

Upon opening the book, I immediately became aware of the importance Dr. Rutland is placing on revealing the messiness of David’s life. Stephen Mansfield said it well in his endorsement: the David we read about in “David The Great” is “raw and complex.”

Even before the chapters begin, Dr. Rutland goes so far as to write the reader a letter where he warns, “this is gonna get rowdy,” but that “truth is worth the mess.” In reading the detailed consequences of David’s flaws, I found an appreciation for his “real, rawness” without condoning David’s bad behavior.

While I’m not quick to pass blame on to my elders, I can’t help but wonder if the well-intentioned omission of grim and messy consequences of David’s mistakes backfired on our parent’s generation as we saw a strong male figure on a felt-board whose victories were celebrated to the neglect of his consequences.

We twenty-somethings don’t consider something until we perceive it to be “real” and “authentic,” but what about when your celebration of “realness” becomes real harmful? Aren’t we also guilty of excusing bad behavior under the guise of “at least I’m real”?

Real? What about real change? Real progress? What about real hard work and real growth? Real ownership of your behavior and the consequences thereof? The author points out that David ends up intentionally memorializing his mistakes in the Psalms for all to see and learn from.

It’s dawned on me that many of my leaders’ frustrations with my generation are rooted in behaviors we swear by because they make us appear “real” without demanding real accountability and real responsibility. David’s fame was high, but so were the stakes with which he operated. People died because of this guy. I can’t help but think about this the next time I beg God to make my dreams come true.

—

2 — Timing

I remember being 11 years old when Freddy Adu scored his first goal in Major League Soccer at age 14. This was my first battle with the anxiety and shame that overwhelms the ambitious when they feel unaccomplished. 14!, I thought, that means I have less than 3 years to go pro and score my first goal or I’m finished!

Another side-effect of felt-board David has been the brevity with which I consider his life. A disadvantage with overfamiliarity with scripture is how one’s thoughts quickly jump to each character’s highlights without considering the long, drawn out processes they had to endure.

I’ve spent years struggling with this: when comparing my short years to David’s entire life, I’m overwhelmed with wave after wave of guilt and hurried ambition. Why haven’t I conquered a Goliath yet? I’m 25 and I haven’t even started the company I was supposed to sell by now!

It’s only when I consider David’s whole story, not just his Goliath moments, that I can breathe in some relief. Dr. Rutland does a substantial job drawing out the agonizing patience and stillness David’s destiny demanded of him.

What about David’s time in the caves?

What about his bonkers refusal to capitalize on Saul’s mistakes and kill him when he has the chance?

And even though we jump to the wretched mistakes that came shortly thereafter, what about the restlessness that kept David awake in the first place before he took the walk that eventually led to seeing Bathsheba bathing? I laid in bed staring at the ceiling for 5 hours and 39 minutes last night thinking about what I need to accomplish in my life. That’s not an arbitrary amount of time! I timed it!

Can we slow down our recollection of David’s story long enough to appreciate the timing of his destiny materializing? Dr. Rutland does a fine job of helping us try. 

—

3 — Wisdom

Throughout each chapter, Dr. Rutland pauses David’s story for plenty of “Lessons from Old Dr. Mark” moments. Each chapter is also concluded with a “Leadership Focus” that breaks down what 21st century men and women can learn from David’s good and bad decisions.

Several of these lessons could stand as separate, solid books of their own. I won’t attempt to explain their helpfulness here, but you should know these gems, keys to the destinies we’re desperate to encounter, are patiently sitting still on pieces of paper inside boxes inside a warehouse somewhere in Florida or Georgia, waiting for you to pre-order “David The Great” and read it.

—

A comprehensive list of reflections and lessons from “David The Great” would realistically require a commentary with much more than the 219 pages Dr. Rutland needed to get this message on paper, but I’ll leave you with one of my most devastating takeaways:

The conviction I felt as I realized an area where I’m unlike David and unlike Dr. Rutland and unlike Jesus. The humility of these men to willingly communicate this wisdom to those like myself who’ve often scoffed at what we simply didn’t understand.

I can smell the Saul in myself when I consider the unfortunate truth that if I were in Dr. Rutland’s position, with all the accolades and accomplishments, I wouldn’t be as willing as he’s been to figure out how people Arvin Sepehr’s age communicate and make God’s wisdom clear to them. In the shoes of many of my leaders, I’d probably look at millennials and scoff. Go ahead, do it your way, I’d think, congratulate yourself for being real and carefree and broke. Tweet your cynical anecdotes and mask your self-serving vain ambition with confused and unrealistic altruism.

Thankfully, I’m aware I’m far from ready from anything even slightly resembling authority. In the meantime, I’ll interrupt my repentance and desperate reflection with the one thing we millennials perhaps need most at our spot in history: the willingness, as Dr. Rutland says, to “Stop. Pause. Wait on God. Be Still.”

“You will not turn to me and let me heal you.”

Anger. Bitterness. Fear. Boredom. Disappointment. Hatred. Woundedness.

Rather than consecrating these damaged and stolen portions of myself to the Holy Spirit, allowing him to fill my heart with love by removing what doesn’t belong or properly steward my identity…rather than consecration, I escape.

To where?

Do I leave my heart? Eventually, yes. But that’s not how it starts.

—

You don’t suddenly start harming others. You start by losing and harming yourself.

You harm others when you step outside of your heart.

You harm yourself when you poorly steward your characteristics and desires within your heart. And one follows the other, eventually becoming a cycle.

“You will not turn to me and let me heal you.”

You were made to Preach. That’s in your heart.

How do you harm yourself with that? You fantasize about the attention and (this is where you slip out of your heart and into the abusive abyss) using attention to get something else you want.

You were made as a Sexual being. You are as sexual as you are human as you are hungry as you are Arvin.

How do you harm yourself with that? Once you’ve found some way to get attention, to impress people with your preaching/writing/rapping/etc. gifts, You envision translating that influence over people into sexual gratification.

You think of young women whose beauty you could use to validate yourself. Since you know you’ll someday be with One of them, this portion of heart-distortion will serve your self-deceiving motives of pretending your wounds aren’t there.

Once I’ve really created my masterpiece, then she’ll enter the picture. And right now, she does, because you’re directing this movie in your head, wasting the time you should be spending consecrating your heart’s wounds to the God who’ll heal your wounds with his love.

But, alas, “You will not turn to me and let me heal you.”

It should also be noted that by doing this, you accustom yourself to having control over beauty and over a Woman…you start to associate that with success. Listen to me, you idiot! You’re planting the seeds of your own Weinstein—Lauer—Spacey—CK controversy as early as right here and right now. You recognize this and how much more work it’ll require of you, how much more imperative it is you consecrate yourself. But the CONTROL, false as it may be, feels far too good. You shouldn’t be deceiving yourself, but you are.

—

You go on fantasizing. You call it your “dream” and your “vision,” but it stopped being that the moment you started abusing it. God-given visions don’t come with attachments that harm others, that would be your doing. For God to breathe the anointing and power you’re asking for at this point is for God to admit he cannot heal your wounds, so he settles for confirming your decision to overlook them in order to give you something that will ultimately hurt others. Congratulations, you’ve given the enemy a way to piggy-back on your God-given gifts. He’s planted weeds in your wheat.

How? When you should’ve been tending the field that is Your Heart, you encountered a wound that went beyond your own ability to heal and ran away to pretend it didn’t exist. You hoped it’d go away. You hoped you’d come back to your heart or start a new relationship or a new dream or whatever else and your real issues would be gone—

Listen to me, you idiot! God can heal your Heart’s wounds…it is your PRIDE that says, “Either I must be able to heal them on my own without you, or I will ignore them until they go away.” They aren’t going anywhere. You weren’t supposed to be strong enough to heal yourself without him.

“They will not turn to me and let me heal them.”

Repent, idiot! You actually have a destiny, but you’re delaying it or setting up the mechanism by which it’ll someday fall over, harming everyone who loves you, with this silly pride. With all due respect, you’re better than this, you idiot.