A Brief Confession from a Pathological Superhero...

I'm sorry. I'm afraid that I have a confession to make. Are you ready for this? ...I am not superman. Yes. That's right. I, Jarrett Davis, am NOT Superman. Some of you may laugh at a confession such as this, but... I'm 100% serious here. I am not Superman.

I must confess that I have been deluded by this fantasy from time to time. I get this idea that I should be able to do all things, please everyone, oblige every request, have enough money to pay for school, and then be able to write something "publish-able" in reflection of the things that I have accomplished. Well, let me be the first to attest that... I can not. I can not please all people at all times. I can not always be ready and happy to oblige at all times, while still fulfilling all of my school requirements, AND being able to pay for it all. I can not be a connoisseur of cultural etiquette for the entire Asia-pacific and also western world. I can not spell the word "connoisseur" without referring to spell check.

Now that we have that straight, I would like to tell you of some things that I CAN do. I can be honest (although it is hard, at times). I can tell you when I'm a little overwhelmed (also, difficult). I can give and receive honest affection (but I'm only the honest kind). I can do many things... and I can do those things well, but not everything-- I never have and a never will.

All this being said, I may not (once in a while) not be able to offer you my all. I may (on seldom occasion) be culturally obtuse. There is even the possibility that I may not be practically perfect in every way (and yes, that is from Mary Poppins).

This may seem simple or trite, but I feel that this confession is an imperative for me at this time in my life. I'm NOT superman, nor should I try to BE Superman. No cape, no tights, no red boots or socially awkward red underwear. Just an average, mild-mannered MA-student, who struggles through the day, and is in need of grace just like the next guy.

There. Now, was that so hard?

Grace, peace, and love (at least as much as I can afford),

Jarrett

An additional thought from Jesus' daddy.

Jesus says, "If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him." (John 14:23) Which is beautiful. But what is even MORE beautiful is how perfectly this fits into everything that God is throughout the WHOLE of the Bible

The idea of "making a home with us" is exactly the thought behind the "shekainah" glory in the Old Testament. It was the glory that "filled the temple," and went with Israel, "home" was not here or there, but it was where God dwelled, and that was with THEM. It's cool because the word "Shekainah" actually carries the meaning of "pitching a tent" or "taking up a dwelling," "making a home" and the like. Sometimes we make it so glorious and removed, so... clean and untouchable. But the whole POINT of this word is that it IS touchable. The dwelling, is not removed or high and lofty... it's with us. Here. Revelation 21:3 talks a bit about this glory as well saying, "...the dwelling of God is with men (and women, too), and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God." It even goes on to say that "He will wipe every tear from their eyes." High and lofty? Removed? I think not.

And that is the beautiful paradox of the Christian God.

A good thought from Jesus.

"If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him." - John 14:23

This is beautiful. They will come and make their home with us. How comforting is that? Honestly. This is rest for a weary soul. ;)

Enroute (back) to the Philippines

I write to you from 55,000 feet in the air, in the cabin of a Boeing 747, which seems to be experiencing some wild turbulence, but nothing to deploy the FAA about, feels like we might have sucked up a flock of seagulls along the way. Although, all things considered, this has been a wonderful trip, really. I left Columbus yesterday evening, saying Goodbye to Leah, Mom, Ryan, Kyle, and Becca (--I said goodbye to Dad much earlier in the day, before he left for work). After the warm precession of hugs and final-looks before parting ways, I turned about to find a rather baron airport. TSA officials, looked bored, the the people behind the gate seemed to be stifling a few yawns, all in all, the day before the fourth seems to be the ideal time to fly.

The flights through Chicago, and continuing to LA went off without a hitch, however, my tooth (which is sadly in desperate need of a root-canal) didn't seem to appreciate the the high altitudes and resulting changes in air pressure. For the four and a half hour flight from Chicago to LA I found myself crammed in a window seat with restless legs, a throbbing tooth, and a woman that stood (or sat, rather) between me and the free world (or isle, rather). I did what I could, massaged my legs, sat on my legs, propped one up for a while, danced them about on the floor beneath my seat ( which seemed to be very effective in creating a wonderful atmosphere of awkward-ness between me and the woman next to me). Amid these mind-numbing frustrations, there were some awesome moments of flying over the America's Midwest, the night be her birthday, getting to see the sparkling of the thousands of people across the nation celebrating the fourth doing their American duty of Barbecuing and sending up as many shimmering explosives as their wallets would allow.

Arriving in Los Angeles, I met up with my friend, Ben Boquist, who had just moved into the LA area (literally, he had arrived that day from the four-day road trip from Ohio). Ben had offered me a place to stay that night, so I went to his newly found apartment, rested up and got some IHOP the next morning in Santa Monica, before heading back to the airport to continue my long journey.

A few things absolutely astound me about LA. It is the City that many people have never been to, but yet its the city that, once you get there, you feel like you know it all to well. I say this, because, it's only after going to LA, and then watching just about any American movie, that you realize that every-time you visit the silver screen, you've really been to LA, as well- if only vicariously. Honestly, you can test me on this one... try to drive anywhere in LA, playing the soundtrack to "Ocean's 11" and tell me that it doesn't entire embody the whole experience perfectly. Crazy, it is.

Anyway... that brings us up to the present (or, at least the point at which I wrote this blog) I've got a deliciously airline meal in my stomach, a pillow behind my head, my headphones in... and I've even managed to snag myself a seat in the exit row! It's t-minus 7 hours to Tokyo, the "Alieve" for my tooth seems to be working wonderfully... so I'm going to settle in, and I'll see you when my boredom once again drives me to write another post.

Until then,

Jarrett

Home again?

As many of you may know, I have taken a short break from the South Pacific, and am paying a 2 month visit back here in the land of Ohio. It's been wonderful to get caught up with the people and culture that I have been removed from for the greater part of a year, now. Just last night, I took the time to drive up to Mount Vernon for the evening, were I met up with some of my closest friends. This is not just the group of friends that you, "do stuff" with. These are not the kind of friends that need an agenda or plan, these are the friends with whom you simply "dwell", the kind of friends that you can spend hours with, laughing and telling stories, and joking and remembering the times that you have had together, and somewhere in the midst of everything you realize that, you haven't actually done anything. It was somewhere in the midst of this evening, after the food had been cooked, and the desserts had been eaten, and the campfire had been kindled and the sun had been set that I found myself in one of those moments where you step outside of yourself, and simply watch. It was as if I was so holistically content with entirety of the experience that I wanted to just step back and watch it all happen. It was the same feeling as looking back at an old photo album and remembering a world of warmth and familiarity, and staring at the photos, dwelling on the experiences and memories that they bring back. This was precisely the same experience. I just sat there watching the orange glow of the campfire make the shadows dance across the faces of the people gathered around it. I sat and took in the sounds of the famliar voices, caught up in their dramatic story telling, loud outbursts and boisterous laughter that for anyone else should have been completely disturbing, but for me, it was a chorus that made me feel like everything was just right. I was home, but this home was in no way tied to a place or a particualr building. There were no trinkets or fresh-baked things required to bring me home. Home, for me, is with people. This was a beautiful reassurance for me, because I knew that as beautiful as this "home" was for me. I knew that this home was really big. There were pieces of this "home" here in Ohio, scattered about northern Romania, speckled throughout parts of Korea, and most recently, this "Home" has taken a new and fruitful growth on a little Island Archipelago in the South Pacific, and it was in the reassurance of this "Home" that I could take that little walk outside of myself, and dwell in the beautiful sounds and images of that moment, but rest warmly in the knowledge that there is nowhere where "home" cannot be.

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1.02.28

"Why am I here?": A Review of My Call After a Half-Year in Asia

“Why I am here” has routinely become the thesis for many of my prayers as of late. The answer always comes, in a very familiar voice heard in the depths of my heart that says, “Because this is where I want you.” “Thanks,” I sometimes sarcastically think to myself, “got any details?”

About 10 years ago, at Circleville Nazarene, listening to a visiting missionary speak, I felt the distinctive tug at my heart to “become a missionary.” “What I stereotype,” I thought to myself, “I’m just being excitable,” and I eventually dismissed it as a serious thought, as my teen years progressed.

Four years later, on the return trip from a mission’s trip to the Bahamas, the familiar tug returned—this time the tug was more definite, yet a bit broader. “I feel called into full-time ministry” was my confession as our group prayed that night.

Two years later as I enrolled as Religion Major at Mount Vernon Nazarene University, the tug was ever-present, yet ever-ambiguous. “Where on earth do you want me, Lord?” I would pray. And the familiar voice within my heart would, with beautiful ambiguity, retort: “Here.” “But what about the details?!” I would think to myself.

Time progressed and I began to take an interest (and eventually a second major) in philosophy, focusing in world religions. As the Lord, unexpectedly, yet not-surprisingly lead me into 2 and a half years in an All-Korean Church, 3 years with a Korean/Kazakhstani roommate, and a long internship in the socially and politically depressed former-soviet union, the Lord’s original call to that 14 year-old boy, quickly returned, only this time it was much harder to deny.

Throughout the rest of my time at MVNU, my love for teaching, explaining concepts and communication began to develop as I tutored and taught as a teachers assistant, and Mentor on campus. As I approached the end of my undergraduate road, I felt a bit like Robert Frost’s character from The Road Not Taken, who stands at the fork of “two roads diverged in a yellow wood.” I felt like Neo, in The Matrix, when he is offered two pills: the blue one—to take him back to everything he knows and is familiar with, or the red one—which will lead him down a path full of questions and even danger, yet a path that will allow him to embrace what he knows, deep down, he was created for. So, with an ounce of inhibition I accepted the red pill, which I knew would inevitably lead me to Asia. I accepted it and even left off my usual request for details—upon one condition…that the Lord pave the way.

And the Lord paved the way. I was asked, out of the blue to take a position teaching English to Korean students over the Internet for a few hours each week, a job which would allow me to be mobile (especially in Asia) and offer me some small financial support, while on the other side of the world. Beyond this, I would soon find out that this job had its base in Manila, Philippines—only a few miles from the Seminary where I would attend school—of all the places in the world, it was in Manila! Plans fell into place, sometimes miraculously, and within a short while I found myself on a plane headed to Asia.

I came here with about $2,000 in my Savings and a job that I hoped would help me along. However, material security like that is never good for building faith, however, it was needed to get me to cross the Pacific to Asia. Within a few months, as Student Visa fees, documentation fees, enrollment fees, international fees, and a seeming thousands more came at me, I soon found that the money that I had saved was grossly insufficient. As for my job on the internet, my hours were soon cut in half, giving me just enough money to buy food and pay for rent, but no where near enough to pay for tuition. So the prayer continues, “God, Why am I here?” And the response quietly follows, “because this is where I want you.”

Though the scenery has changed, the country has changed, and I have certainly changed, the story has remained the same. Through uncertainty, God wants me here. Manila? Yes. Seminary? Also, Yes. But most importantly, as the case has been from the beginning of the story, he wants me in a place where I have nothing to rely on but him and his provision, from wherever that provision may come. And it is somewhere in that beautiful ambiguity that faith is found and understood. Going back to the 14 year-old boy sitting in a missions service… little did I know where that little tug would bring me, little did I know where I would be only 10 years later—in a place where there is so much work to be done, so many needs to be met, and an endless task at hand.

So, “where am I?”
I am, “here,” right where I need to be
…and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

- Jarrett

Remember the Sabbath...

It has most definitely been a long time since I have last made a post to this site; and I really should be asking myself, "why, in the midst of all of the papers and assignments, should I even toy with the idea of writing something additional???" And, to answer that question, most honestly.... "I don't know."
What I do know is that, however useful it may be, there is something terribly confining and limiting to "proper" academic writing, with all it's footnoting and citations, and rigid progression of ideas. For someone who genuinely likes to write... that like telling an artist that he's allowed to paint whatever he wants and express whatever is in his heart--as long as as it is "color-by-numbers" and he follows all of the instructions, and uses only the preselected colors.
But that's not at all what I wanted to talk about anyway. What I want to talk about requires a new paragraph...

For the past while now--me, Ruel, and Glen, have been experimenting with our concept of "Sabbath." As long as I can remember, the idea of "Sabbath" has been terribly stereotyped as this one point in the week where good christians take a break from life. You know, life. That annoying period of conciousness that fills in those times when we are not sleeping. Of course, I'm exaggerating. But, honestly... what do we as Christian take life to be? I remember a certain phrase that became well-used around my family while I was growing up. When we were on vacation, having a good time, and we had to leave to go back home, we would say, "well, back to reality," as if somewhere at home we left this evil Jail Warden waiting for us with handcuffs, waiting for our return... waiting to throw us back into that prison we call "reality." --- once again, I'm exagerating... but only a bit. Similarly, we hear other negative terms like, "real life," which would refer to something that is unpleasant, but a terribly unavoidable reality of living this painful thing we call "life."

What if... WHAT IF... life wasn't something that needed escaping. What if we didn't take a break FROM life, but rather, we took a break TO life. What if the Sabbath was not a retreating away from that monster that waits for us at the door every Monday morning, but WHAT IF the Sabbath, was instead a celebration of the life that has been lived? Therefore, YES, the Sabbath is a time in which we do break from the normal progression of the workweek, but it's not a mandatory holding back from that scary beast that we in the working world have dubbed "real life," rather, the Sabbath is diving headfirst into REAL LIFE. A time where were we get a cup of coffee, write, play, sing, listen to jazz, cook, wrestle alligators--whatever makes you come alive-- what if we did that?

I've been experimenting with this though for the past few Sabbaths, and it has been an amazing breath of fresh air... I almost wonder if this is what God had in mind all along ( and I think he did) Every Sabbath (I've chosen Sunday), me Ruel, and Glen go to church, sing fellowship and the whole 9 yards... then, at around lunchtime, we dissappear and we go.
For me, "going" feeds my soul, gives me life... I don't nessecarily care where I go, but I go. When I go, I try to go somewhere that I have never gone before. Then I take pictures of it. Maybe for some, this does not sound appealing but, for me. This is deeply what I love. I have always been nomadic at heart, I'm a traveler deep down. To me, Magellan--that abominable explorer-- committed one of the most unspeakable acts to those people who are like me... he charted the world...mapped it out, painted a picture of it, and stole a little bit of its wonder and mystery. Honestly, I have always wanted to do what he did. See something that people have never seen before, catch something new, something exciting, see something that is not yet in the dictionary and tell its story-- see something about which one would have to write a book.
I think that it why I spend my Sabbath doing what I do. When I'm "going" (wherever that may be) and I have a camera, or a pen and paper... I think that there is a small part of me that is living out Magellan's dream. I'm looking for a perspective, an angle, an image. Something that tells a story that has not been told before, and shows something in a way that it has never been shone before... so that, for a second, that thing becomes new, and it able to be discovered all over again.
Increasingly, I am becoming convinced that this is really what the Sabbath was meant to be, not an excape from life... but an excape TO LIFE.

Whatever "life" --real life.... REALLY, real life is for you, excape to that. It might be buried deeply beneith your agenda, and paperwork, covered with things like your taxes and finances, but chances are it's there --your life, that is... and odds are, it's not nearly as scary as we all make it out to be.