Andrew Paul Hogg

93 Words

2011-10-27T18:02:00.000-07:00

Crowds gathered, sometimes small, other sometimes too large. Pushing forward to get to the front to hear words that both cut and healed in the same moment. Few things were certain, nevertheless, amid confusion, frustration, you left more alive than you came. Unsure of what would change, they pushed forward. To be touched. If even for a second, it could mean a lifetime of profit. Bringing the marginalized, the undervalued, the forgotten, and meeting rejection; highlighting the prevailed identity of worthlessness. But walls broke, and the insignificant owned the spotlight. He said "Be like them", the world turned upside down again.

no, you're not good enough.

I lay in my bed night after night, reading the same 93 words. Who am I? Am I the follower who refuses access because someone does not qualify to be touched by the same man who forever changed me? When did I become the gatekeeper to His presence? When did His love for me become greater than His love for them? When did I stop loving like He loves? I don't need to protect Him.

I don't care what anyone does, I'll push until He touches you.

The alternative found in the same motion. Parents bringing their children to sit at the feet of wonder. Unsure of why they are possessed by this man's words, actions, just knowing that if touched, a life would forever be changed, a destiny forever shaped. Who am I? Am I one who pushes through adversity, rejection, false identities, reasoned only for others to encounter their maker. Is everything I do: influencing, hoping, positioning others to be seen, to be touched? Do I remember His firsts are my forgottens, my refuse is His reception? Look to Him, He's looking at you.

You were them, now be me.

I begin to remember His words, you were lost and I found you,. You were forgotten and I remembered you. you were insignificant; I gave you value. You were dead; I made you alive. Be like them, come to me until you are touched, then come again. I make you who you are, rejection is an obstacle, not an identity.

Be like them, keep pushing, keep coming.

Mark 10

Do you see me?

2011-07-11T23:29:00.000-07:00

...are they watching...
...do they see me...
...am I noticed...
...are they impressed...
...am I doing enough...
...am I important....

...AM I GOOD ENOUGH...

30 Fifth grade students stand together prepared to sing for their video-camera wielding parents. A few select are chosen to sing prepared solo's; though there's one student, unconcerned with the music, words, the former practice, tunnel-visioned to the affirmation of their parent. And at the most inopportune time shouting: "Dad, am I doing good?"

The definition of the person has begun to be written. It is by what I do that I am valued. The perceived thoughts and reactions of who I label as important, give my life meaning, daily looking for someone to put a price to who I am. The greater the price, the greater the significance. When I have little to offer, at least in their mind, and now my own, I have little value. "Dad, am I doing good?" - Do you think I'm important - your thoughts define me.

I sat frustrated, thoughts of inadequacy overwhelming truth: yes you may be good, but you will never be great, average among elite, forgotten amid the renown. Performance paradigm now deeply rooted as it was modeled at an early age. I have little worth when I am only able to offer what is modest. When I have little to profit from others' lives, I create minimal time for a person I view as having minimal importance. Selfishness in cycles: my own insecurity compounds theirs and back again. "Dad, am I doing good?" - Am I valuable? -

Selfishness, fear, insecurity disconnect reality. Truth remains, I am valuable enough that someone who had nothing to gain, gave himself up. Truth remains, my author went bankrupt to unchain me from selfishness, fear, insecurity. Truth remains, He did it all to look me in the eye:

"Andrew, you are worth it"

Who Changed?

2011-01-26T20:17:00.000-08:00

I've heard it said. I've seen it happen, both progressively and in mere moments. A change in someone's life, amendments to their thoughts, actions, motivations, goals, values, ideas, identities. I've had moments in my life where instantaneous change has occurred, and times where conversion was processed and implemented over time. All of these episodes rooted in the unwavering, the unchanging presence.

I've heard it from many men, women, from different pulpits and various books, it is impossible to enter into the presence and leave unchanged. Everything within me agrees, except my experience. Recognizing the error in creating standards simply out of experience, questions rise in why change does not always occur, at least perceivably. That is, why do the same actions, lifestyles persist when the intimate moment is lost? Is the presence absent? Did rejection prevent its power? Is the change to subtle to notice? Did I leave too early? Did I... and I've already begun to be defeated, unrealized to the fact that a loyal love to Him forgets to worship myself.

Nevertheless, ignoring the self-absorbed questions leads to the answered truth, it is impossible to enter into the presence and leave unchanged. Internal renovation has occurred, but in the moments as I walked away from that time with Him, I again took control of my heart, reshaping what He restructured to what is comfortable to me, from what is new to what is old. My temporary surrender and unwillingness to give Him permanent control, in intimacy and out, refuses to allow life to exist in the vulnerability of His transformation. And I closed my eyes to trust.

Revolution happened.

And I lose control.

Spirit without truth

2010-12-14T20:22:00.000-08:00

Over the past few months, I've had the opportunity to influence the lives of 12 young ladies. Coaching girls basketball has never been something that I have planned, dreamed or even intended on pursuing. There is a stark difference in the athletic performance of girls from boys. Boys feel good about themselves when they play well, Girls must feel good about themselves and they will play well. With these 12, much of what I do is instilling value and confidence in each one of them, and when inward poise and assurance is exposed, it spreads as wildfire, infecting each one. They come together unified and few have been able to stand in their way.

One could create a library on the number of books diagnosing the church and believers as to what plagues the community; what is the easy fix, who has the solution? There seems to be countless road maps, programs, and blueprints for success in the commune of worship. We are accomplished theorists of how the Spirit should move, what will provoke the Father to pour himself as he has done throughout history. Nevertheless, our formulas are constructed in reverse, planting the branches to grow trees, where we should be setting seeds for roots to mature.

" an hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth"

Bitterness is born when we create platforms to talk of Him, but refuse to allow Him to speak of us. I have spoken through countless hours of the things He has done, should do, and would do if everyone else would come into better alignment with His agenda. I can recall numerous conversations centered around "the problem is..."; unrealized to the truth that the problem is forgetting to let Him search me. It's truth that brings freedom, it's truth that brings healing, it's truth that releases the hope of glory to be the reality of destiny. The movement of the Spirit in the community starts from within, in opening the door of truth that shapes me into His mold.

Creating a culture, changing an atmosphere, influencing the broken, hurting, lost, and complete does not start with others. It does not start with programs, music, books, or studies. It starts in me. It starts with my intimacy; when I exist in the Spirit and His truth forces an unlimited identity, and when this inward poise and assurance is exposed, it spreads as wildfire, infecting each one. When few come together unified and none will stand in their way.

Revival is my responsibility.

From within.

Me; you.

2010-10-25T21:01:00.000-07:00

I often joke with a good friend when he attempts to characterize my actions as typical, answering him, that was the Andrew of yesterday, I'm not the same as I was then, today is new; I am new.

Frustration breathes when I see the accepted patterns, structures, goals, addictions, and attitudes as identities. Although I joke as to the complete instantaneous change to my thought structure and personality in a day, I refuse to acknowledge those feelings and behaviors that cause me to be anything less than the fullest potential I was born to, as who I am.

Accepting the things that prevent you from being everything He dreamed of you when He formed is to ignore the authenticity of who you truly are. The more I learn of who I am, the more I become aware that I do not know myself at all. There is a faced outward representation, clouded and deformed by hurts, insecurities, pain, anger, fear. This is not who I am, but with whom the battle exists to reveal truth.

"It is just who I am" echo with lies. And with their acknowledgment, defeat has already won. I wonder how I would change if I knew; if I knew all of who I fully am, all of what I am capable of, all of who others could be. Depression is not me; you. Anger is not me; you. Hopelessness is not me; you. Abandoned is not me; you. Alone is not me; you. It's not who I am, it's who I paraded as.

I am His.

Today is over;

I am new.

Even If

2010-08-16T01:06:00.001-07:00

As a young boy, nearly every night I would turn the lights on in my backyard, grab my sun-ridden basketball and shoot hoops until I was forced to come inside. No one was around, but never was I alone. It was my time to dream. I dreamed of being a star, becoming a professional, playing under the lights, camera's. I was convinced I could achieve what was unattainable, I would be the impossible.

I grew older and basketball became less important. My dreams had unconsciously shifted, I began to see what made me come alive, what made feel like I fit in my own skin. I dreamed of stages, bands, thousands on thousands, students, adults, children. I saw miracles, worship, healings, I saw myself leading masses into His presence across the world. Coming into reality, I allowed my dreams to becoming fleeting thoughts as I had never seen anything modeled to what I knew was in me, crying to get out.

I was introduced to a man who would soon become a dear friend. A man who was living my dream. A man who knew the throne room, and escorted thousands to its door. And my dreams became more alive than ever, this man showed me how to dream even bigger.

It has been a number of years since imagination realized its trueness, and yet nothing has changed. Conversations rise to weighted arguments with Him as to why I see some of my closest friends living out my dreams. Overwhelmed with thankfulness of how He has changed their lives, but I still wonder,

Why not me?

And He responds, what about you? What if you never see another miracle? What if you never see another life transformed? What if you never feel my presence again? What if you never see your dreams realized? Are you following if... Are you following even if...

Even if I never see the masses come to Him, even if I never travel the world and speak to nations, even if He forever is a discipline, even if it's hard, even if I never see my dreams...

Even if...

I will follow.

Lensed Relationships.

2010-07-16T00:45:00.000-07:00

I sat in my office chair, staring at the wall, pretending to respond to the emails I did not have, searching for something that would offer busyness, erasing the boredom. I began a project that would pull many small pieces together to create an image to goodness, I created puzzle pieces and put the pieces together.

Sorting through thousands of pictures, choosing faces and memories that would come together to create one picture, one face. It became a mural of three by five photographs with thousands of people, but one face. Standing feet away, one could see and remember, find themselves; stepping away, the photographs begin to run together, the people no longer as distinct, but one face remains, one face becomes clearer. This single print possessed a thousand smaller images of young people, all positioned and in harmony, reveals an image of Christ.

Each picture offered a different piece of the image of Him, a unique reflection that none other can hold. And I began to see the significance each picture, each person revealing His face, His character, His love, His eyes. How would my relationships shift if they were sustained by the exclusive element of Him that each person was created to carry; if I protected them because I see something of Christ that I cannot see in anyone else? What if I could order my relationships and find their value in seeing a matchless piece of who He is. What if I could see the irreplaceable unique measure of who He is in each person?

What if in everyone, I could only see Him?

Tabernacle

2010-06-22T20:54:00.000-07:00

6:30 PM, for the past two weeks, I have assumed the similar spot behind the crowd of young teenagers, all tired, dirty, substituting showers with body spray. A small prayer, a series of familiar clichéd songs, and an entertaining sermon designed to invoke a response fills the next two hours. The lights dim and the final prayer is uttered, the front is flooded with young men and women determined to be better, to live for what is greater, ultimately, hoping not to fail. I smile when I see the authenticity of each person's action, I see each one grit their teeth and the determination in their eyes: "this time I can do it!" And the failing process has already begun...

I will be clean, I will not fall, I will be stronger this time, I refuse to let death separate me from life, I will go to the next level. These are the thoughts that possessed me as a young person in this same place, these are the thoughts that still plague me, them, today. A determination to be amongst the spiritually elite and feel as though I belong. This is the place where I allow Him to work in me through repentance and as I walk away from the altar of my shame, I leave Him there with it, focused on living in perfection so that I can remain in the delight of His presence. And thus repentance becomes the peak of my journey, never moving beyond into a mover of the kingdom, a shaper of history.

It is a flawed cycle of allowing Him to work then attempting to walk the road of independence; forgetting the truth that it is His kindness that drew me. What if I could disregard the reckless determination to be perfection so that perfection would accept me? What if I realized I do not need to do anything? What if I would just let Him change me? What if I knew He loved me for who I am, not who I should be?

What if I forgot to be sovereign?

What if I remembered Him?

look

2010-05-28T11:03:00.000-07:00

I sit in a housing lobby, emptied to summer's freedom, barren walls, forgotten furniture, silent hallways. I imagine the people who have walked these halls, sat in these seats, the conversations had; I imagine the people who will come, who will sit, who will talk. I think of the age-old saying, 'if these walls could talk'.

If I look to my right, I see a wall, itself empty, but strong; simple, yet consistent; uninspiring, however it knows its purpose and serves it mundane function without hesitation. When I look to my left, I see an ocean, itself full and strong; complex but staggering with beauty; without security but full of excitement and the unknown; its possibilities speak to fear, but its movements offer a chance into greatness.

Two realities. If these walls could talk...

''look to the left, look to the ocean''.

2010-04-20T15:31:00.000-07:00

The adversity found in creating is far greater than that in navigating a road previously paved by others. It has been days over 8 1/2 months since I left the place that groomed me out of adolescence, and returned me home to be an adult. I returned with nothing but a few belongings and my dreams to wow Arizona with who I had discovered I was, who He made me to be.

The year previous, I had been swept away through innumerable encounters with Him; daily exposure to secrets of His love, joy, satisfaction. The homecoming would not deter these times, they would increase and I would show others how to live single-minded to Him, experiencing His goodness. This was my plan, this was my excitement.

4 months into this book, the fervor had faded. The intimate times slowly diminishing. My desire for them much the same, giving equal time to ministry, work, family, friends, etc. as before. Something was missing, something was lost. I began to question my own life, my setting, my gifts, ministry, what had I done for Him to seemingly remove His love for me? I knew the undying affection for me was unscathed, but why could I know longer find Him when I looked...

8 1/2 months read, without certainty how many pages left to handle. The experiences I had were less than a year removed, the lessons learned, the secrets revealed, now being forced to live when the physical reality of His presence does not feel real. Can I truly live what He has spoken to me without feeling Him standing next to me? Can I be totally satisfied by Him? Can I choose joy? Can I choose peace? Will I find Him as my everything when I'm searching, but He isn't being found?

yet.

I continue to grow drained by the pursuit without immediate reward. For the past four plus months, my life has felt dull, unmotivated, and without dynamic growth. And this week, a thought confronted me, "is this how people live?" My frustration dominantly lies in the fact that I know there is more. I have experienced more, I have seen healing, within me and around me. I have seen people's lives change instantaneously and progressively, I have experienced His love mentally, physically, and spiritually. I have seen signs and wonders. I have not only heard His voice, but I have felt His voice. I have seen my prayers move impossibilities. I know about my God, and I know my God. I have met with Him, conversed, sacrificed, and watched Him shatter hopelessness. I've seen Him heal cancer, broken bones, disproportionate legs, chronic pain, torn ligaments, blind eyes, and deaf ears. I've seen Him heal the hearts of the broken, the lost, the forgotten, and the hurting. I've seen Him. I know Him. They must know...

there is more.

I will settle for nothing less.

complex simplicity

2010-04-05T13:43:00.000-07:00

It's something I forever want to be included to. It's something I rarely understand the meaning of. Face-to-face glares, seeing the depth in its eyes, close enough to touch, in reaching to touch I see its distance. Rationalized through countless avenues, all of whom offered incompletion and dissatisfaction. Is it a place? Is it a people? Is it here? Is it coming? It is.

It is invisible, with its products seen in the visible world. It encompasses everything that is good, it was created by and is inhabited by goodness. I have heard men and women, the young and the old, educated and ignorant speak of it, though only one who spoke of it truly understood the subject of which he taught. It is the most complex of ideas, yet belongs to the most simple. It is for the poor, the weak, the forgotten, the unwanted. It is the kingdom.

Is it a place? Possibly. Is it a people? They are undeniably included. Is it here? Is it coming? Yes and yes. Claims to understand it would be thoughtless. Nonetheless, recently I have been possessed by a single thought about the substance of the kingdom; a thought that does not offer an answer to the former questions.

The kingdom is a happening.

The kingdom happens. When I speak truth, truth happens. When I speak hope, hope happens. When I speak healing, healing happens. When I speak peace, peace happens. When I release joy, joy happens. When I love, lives are changed. When I speak life into a dead world, I hear the revival of silent hearts.

The kingdom happens.

One by One

2010-02-28T16:28:00.000-08:00

They asked for the the card I had been given as I walked through the door. Set it next to me and let it wait. This card, soon to be covered in ink markings, was waiting to be future's reminder. Something that I would write today, not my own words or ideas, but how I would be reminded of who He is, what He is saying, how He is moving, how I am responding.

I sat thinking, contemplating, letting my mind wander into stress filled situations I would try to control, failing time and time again. I began to focus in on ideas and desires I have, things I want to see move, change, develop. Who do I want to be? What legacy would I leave to those I would know and influence? What changes do I want to see and to what lengths will I work to possess those changes? What do I need, what's the right way, right/wrong, who/what/where?

Why?

I formed a mental list of what seemed to be countless unachievable products of how he would move. And when I had exhausted my efforts, my needs of what it would require to see changes and movement like I desire, I began to cross each element out, one by one. Things that had seemed forever important, began to fall one by one.

~~Signs~~, ~~wonders,~~ ~~authority~~, ~~recognition~~, ~~relevance,~~ ~~position~~, ~~promotion~~, ~~fasting,~~ ~~theology~~, ~~study~~, ~~tongues~~, ~~manifestation,~~ ~~knowledge~~, ~~sermons, music,~~ ~~prophetic,~~ ~~miracles~~, ~~holiness~~, ~~anointing,~~ ~~prayer meetings~~, ~~supernatural~~, ~~fire,~~ ~~healing~~, ~~outreach~~, ~~power~~, ~~art~~, ~~evangelism~~, ~~teaching,~~ ~~books,~~

But one remained. His person. I cannot afford to have anything apart of my life, regardless of its value, that does not possess His person. Every aspect of my dissolving list had begun with me. What I can do, what I need, where I... And I was reminded, its in His person. These disciplines, these products in isolation, offer little but fatigue. They are not good themselves, good is a person; good is embodied; He is good.

And my blank card now stained: it's in His person.

Imaginary

2010-02-17T21:08:00.000-08:00

I sat in the pew next to my mom, brother and sister behind, neck aching and head pounding, everything physically wanting to stand and leave. A feeling welling inside of me urging to stay. Singing familiar songs, possessed by thoughts of how I've sang them with passion, screaming the words, calling Him to move. I stood with the usual slight rocking, fighting the physical to engage with the spiritual. Sifting to hear the still small voice with exhaustion, pain, and apathy screaming for my attention. It has been months since receiving what I had grown accustomed to daily.

As the service moved to a time of confession, I began to hold more focus, searching and allowing myself to be searched. I followed the prompts given and confidently answered; nothing present in my life, unconfessed, that needed to be addressed between us. I sat unaware of any wrongdoing I had done or resolved to do in the future that was left previously unacknowledged. But what had I done, how had I pursued, where am I becoming not a reflection of Him, but Him, Himself?

I began to see the metaphor of my life in a cup. A cup only to be filled with Him. I saw the pride of declining to be refilled, to instead sacrifice overflow because of my own lack of effort. Living off of and rationing what was released to me months ago. I was not running on fumes, I was not running at all My confession became not what I had done, rather, what I had not done.

I had not let Him fuel me. I had not let me be my strength. I had not lived in the present of what He is doing, trying myself to multiply the effects of what He once did for me. I had not let Him be my everything. He was. I had not.

And my confession, my release of control, my fatal attempts to produce my own joy, my own peace, my own satisfaction, I offered to Him. Admittance to reality, death to denial, I submitted.

And in a moment, I experienced Him.

Realign

2010-02-09T20:20:00.000-08:00

Minutes, hours, days, suddenly weeks, now months. Steadily increasing, unnoticed, what was once established lifestyles, now shelved in the name of good intentions. Passion overflows out of intimacy, the converse however, does not offer the same distinction.

Months of frustration, weeks of repeating lessons thought to be never learned, days fighting for potential's success, hours drained without provoking greatness, minutes watching utter foolishness. Then once, a glimpse, a hint to what was believed to be taken with seemingly total apathy. Then twice, the seeds planted months ago, labored over, nurtured, nearly given up on, began to possess their own breakthrough. Astonishment was my only reaction, a group of young men, with only thoughts to themselves, began to see the integrity to live beyond themselves. Seeing the beginning of what I worked so hard for, satisfaction remains as distant as when those seeds lay dormant.

Thankfulness coupled with hope for increase is my only confession. Nevertheless, dreamed fulfillment became an empty promise formulated by and given to myself. Stress was assumed to the idea that breakthrough would offer peace. Reality however is speaking of an internal struggle with that of who is peace and love coveting the attention I am offering this strain. Aiming to repair the broken, where I am only invited to escort the lost.

The internal tension, the stress, the anxiety, the life of displeasure is crowned when I have forgotten who I am. I know who I am most, I am accepted always, I am only satisfied when I am home. My home is His presence, without forgetting this, I am never lost, never a stranger, never without love, always accepting, always advancing, always influencing. Every step I want to walk into a puddle of Him, splashing overflow on everyone in reach, broadcasting His essence;

His love;

His peace.

Not Forgotten

2009-12-13T13:27:00.000-08:00

I sat talking to two old friends, one who had become a brother in recent years, the other an unrealized prodigal. Since both conversations were via internet, my close friend and I where both talking to our other mutual friend simultaneously, telling each other of our ensuing conversations with the third.

Conversation ranged from reminiscing to future dreams, with current life in between. The visit commonly returned old memories and hindsight views of people, situations, and feelings. Mostly, it was a 'remember when' followed by laughs and more fun memories. Our conversation also turned to fears, hurts, and ultimatums as a result of those same memories.

In essence, the root of those hurts and fears were created by rules and religion in the absence of relationship. A community failed to recognize the integrity in this one's intimacy and began to push towards good things, however, they were ideals that would not be realized because the communion was not established as thought.

Lies, frustration, confusion, and unhappiness were solidified by rules without relationship. A holy lifestyle was expected, a lifestyle that did not make sense without the satisfaction and joy that comes from becoming more like Him. The first part of the equation will fail itself without the latter portion. Consequently, satisfaction and joy were looked for and found in other avenues, however temporary; not seeing the freedom being given away through each decision, slowly forgetting the identity that was once shallowly deposited.

I began to see the roots of current feelings as I heard of the old experiences and the mindsets that were created. Hope was gone, peace had left, joy was not a lifestyle, but a short weekend experience. Telling my brother of what was being said, we realized we were having similar conversations with our respective third friend. And he said to me "Just remember, there is a really really free person deep inside of there, just waiting to be unleashed".

.preach to the poor.
.bind up the brokenhearted.
.proclaim freedom to the captives.
.release from darkness for the prisoners.

this is who i will be

right

2009-11-03T20:16:00.001-08:00

Rights.

I've grown up in America. America has written down, taught me, made me memorize, debated, voted for, voted against, fought for, died for...

Rights. I been cultured to think that the more position I have, the more right I have to demand. Feelings of entitlement and justification expressed by the level of esteem in which I can identify. I am in a position of authority, I have the right to be spoken to with respect. I am 23 years old, I have the right to buy and do subjectively whatever I choose. I have a degree, I have the right to a good job. I have the right to speak intelligibly about subjects. I have the right.

I have one right. I have the right to be humble and serve. I have the right to forget that 'rights' even exist. I have the joy to experience Him when I seek Him, not because I deserve or earn, but because I have been promised this gift. I receive
His presence as honor to my the offering of my life. I has authored to this world not to be His reflection, but to be His display, to shine. Him within me, released around me, changing them.

Entitlement disappointed shares the markings of bitterness and hate, opposing joy and peace. When I can realize what I have been given was not deserved, merited, or warranted, and I give without thought to reception, it is then, I walk in humility, positioned to release power.

.desire.

2009-08-31T15:38:00.000-07:00

Internal debate often pulls me from reality. Lost in thoughts who rarely can come into harmony. Reconsidering the blindly accepted philosophies and wisdom regulates the dominant measure of my activity. Peer-pressuring questions long enough, inevitably they will confess their answer.

Unclipping the seatbelt and turning off my car as I parked in the usual corner of the middle of Sunnyside Dr., I walked through the gate into the backyard. The paradox of desire and its evasiveness flooded my mind as if waiting behind the gate for me to arrive. The rest of the night was spent thinking, digging, peeling back the intricacies of why desire for Him burns in select and parades as an old friend, seen only on holidays and special occasions in others.

Loving with distance, loving when it’s safe, loving when it’s controlled; this is love with fear, truly fear without love. One can pour out their lives for another, spend years wasting themselves on someone else; why then is this love, this passion, this service so difficult to translate into loving on the One who loved them first. Henry Nouwen wrote to me this week saying “It is easier to be God than to love God, easier to control than to love, easier to own life than to love life”. Is it an argument for influence and power? I love solely where I can manipulate the outcome and response of another by my expression.

Nevertheless, the need for power and control is based in fear. An insecurity in who I am subjects me to subconscious concern for rejection. Where I cannot position a safety net, a contingency plan, I refuse to become vulnerable past the point I feel others have tread, where I do not feel I am loved to the same extent I am loving. I become ignorant to the fact that He loved me first and continues to do so to an unconscious degree. My ignorance unlocks the door to complacency.

In a moment, often many over a lifetime, a realization occurs and an ultimate confidence is possessed in who He is, His goodness, and the complete satisfaction He offers. When then does pursuit die after the fervor of the moment is lost? Where does desire hide when reality is found? The more I realize the gravity at which I am loved and pursued, the more I covet those moments as existence. I do not love, I do not desire, I do not pursue, I do not…because I am afraid of where I cannot control rejection, believing the lie that denial is a rightful option between Him and me.

If I could grasp even a small portion of the enormity of His love for me, the world, blindness to anything else would come over me. If I could understand how much he loves me, who I am right now, despite my flaws, despite my insecurities, despite the lies I have been convinced of, despite my accomplishments, despite my accolades, I would love Him as I dream to. The only interest I would have would be to get to the lap of my Father and listen to the whispers. Thoughts of finding and remaining in His presence would overcome me, grabbing my focus and not letting go, they are there when I go to sleep and are inescapable when I wake up. If I knew…

I do not love because I have not yet been convinced how I am loved.

And fear wins…

But it won’t…

enemies

2009-08-21T22:42:00.000-07:00

It is often found behind the steering wheel of my words; it creeps within my internal, unexpressed emotions; it is the trigger of reactions when disrespected; it creates its own imprisoning walls to protect the unhealthy effect it has on service and humility; it grows, becoming more and more self-enthroned to its own knowledge; hates the weak, ignores needs, and is fed through the realization of its displacement among the ignorant.

What if I forgot you? To live my life not based on you and what you mean, to live without a concern or thought to the damage digging low would bring to you. This picture I am bringing walks carelessly to the mark of what you are, unconcerned for who you are. Humor or anger or kindness or passion is often what you are masked with; knowing humility is your only identity that possesses any true value, where I become unaware to your existence. This picture I am living.

You live as only to what is yours, creations in artificial obligations, fantasies of deserving. You lash out when they fail, you are the cause of significant disappointment, you cripple my boldness. You feed me lies and deafen me to the whispers.

Can I live without you? Living in moments of surrender while you lie lifeless, offering more satisfaction than you could ever extend. A divorce has begun and your unrelenting presence is being replaced with what you are supposed to be without revelation of your reality. I will live without you. I will live in eternal moments, I will see what is forever real, I will display Him.

you are my enemy
you are my reputation

Grind

2009-08-09T01:00:00.000-07:00

It has been a month since I found and walked under the red exit letters. Leaving a place of shaping, molding, and becoming and returning to a place determined to be the shaper, be the molder, to know who made me, and be everything I dream to become.

These determinations are often easier said than lived. Embarrassment, fear, rejection; these things are my battleground. How can I change a culture, large or small, if I am afraid to release hope. I'm determined to be a lazy evangelist; I want the presence to follow me, to go ahead of me, to stand beside me. All who stand, walk, or speak to me will experience the presence I live with. Nevertheless, these things cripple my focus, they deafen my ears, and divert my sight away from Him. When will we, when will I, dispose of being afraid to be awkward? When will I be so confident in who I am that when I show someone that, they know one response, to fall at His feet? When?

I want to live a life that causes people to choose. I want to live a life that offers life.

I want Him to be my everything.

Everything

Here today, gone tomorrow.

2009-07-05T00:44:00.000-07:00

For the first time in three years, I live in a place of relative permanence. I feel the pressures of becoming and conforming to the mold of what one does fresh out of college. Find a job, buy a house, get into excesses of debt and spend the rest of my life attempting to rid myself of those handcuffs. I know that I am not cut out for the average mold, the American stereotype living in suburbia does not suit me. Nevertheless, this is all that I see in front of me.

I have Jesus, and we have our dreams; I felt pulled back to my roots, the scenery much the same, the people have much changed. I am a new person, a renovation of the man that left 3 years ago. I have learned, I have grown, I have failed, and I have succeeded. But the true test of who I am and who I continue to become exists in being the changed and being the change from where the unchanged began.

I can be a new person in a new place. That is simply a task of defining my own reputation in a place with little preconceived opinion. It is where old habits lay dormant and former routines wait to be handled once more, where aged reputations serve as blockades for breakthroughs. It is here where the integrity of my identity will be subjected to its greatest adversary. Stand or engage with the comfortable worn down road of yesterday?

The kingdom is unshakable.
The kingdom breathes within me.
I will be the kingdom.
I will be unshakable.

The back of the book

2009-06-25T13:43:00.000-07:00

5 days remain in my sojourn as a resident in Redding. Mixed emotions have become a staple in recent months. There is a sadness that is triggered when I think of the people I'm leaving, the experiences I've had, the opportunities left to fall. Then there is an excitement, a feeling of freedom; not going to a new place, but to a familiar home, a new person.

An uncontrollable smile was what I came to Redding with. Filled with excitement and curiosity to experience life on my own, to grow up, to try and fail, to learn then succeed. A quiet arrogance, that I had Jesus and life figured out, possessed me. I had been entrusted to carry and release His fragrance like these students had never experienced. I was confident, or so I thought, in reality, I was ignorant.

A frustrating year of not seeing a movement rise like I had seen in my dreams. A summer followed of heartache and betrayal. The plug was pulled on my emotions, my confidence, my identity was swallowed. The only thing I needed was to return to the haven that I loved, a place where I could be free again, but the return was different. The unscathed smile was forgotten. A hollow shell of what first came one year before was all that remained.

Stripped of knowledge, emotion, confidence, I forgot how to be loved, I forgot how to be happy, I had forgotten how to be sad, I forgot how to feel, I forgot who I was. Dreams were shattered, I was unsure of what it meant to be Andrew, and I hear these words "the fastest way to stop the hurting, is to stop feeling" - shutting it all down to avoid the painful. It was time to rebuild.

Round three, a summer spent with cautioned guard, unwilling to repeat the previous story. A reformation ensued; becoming stronger; rediscovering value. Hours pass searching with my eyes closed and face buried in the ground. Direction is what I wanted, identity is what I found. Posing questions of where and what, getting answers of who. Sifting through and burning away fear and pain to find the authenticity in the person who makes me.

The possessing false confidence that lacked humility had been broken and replaced. Poise in who He is, assurance in the numbered steps, humility to face who I am not, loved for who I am, and the pursuit of the realization as the man He and I dreamed about.

I am Andrew Paul Hogg.

Arizona I hope you are ready.

I am back.

Conversations

2009-06-06T23:31:00.000-07:00

I’m finding the simplest way to diverting my focus in prayer is turning my awareness from Him towards myself. It is to keep myself watching my own mind and trying to produce feelings in respect to the prayer in which I’m praying. When I am expressing repentance and walking into forgiveness, to start manufacturing feelings for myself of forgiveness. When praying for boldness, to discredit my prayer unless I can produce some kind of courageous feeling to hold the coattails of my prayers. It is an attempt to assess the value of my prayer based on the intensity of emotional response I feel post-prayer; never considering how the internal feelings related are subject to my current physical state or whether or not I am tired, sick, or well.

What is the object in which I am directing my thoughts and concerns, my requests and needs, my hopes and my dreams? It is a composition of genuine and ridiculous invalid ingredients. It is the influence of culture, people, scripture, experience, my own person, and unknowingly long list. What would it look like, how would my intimacy shape if I could consciously order my prayers as not what I think He is but as what He knows himself to be?

I want to set aside all my thoughts and images, or at least, fully recognize their natural subjectivity and completely develop confidence in the external, invisible Presence with me in the room.

I want to find this unaffected nakedness in prayer.

In or Out

2009-05-27T12:26:00.000-07:00

A professor of mine once got me thinking about cliche phrases and words. Ever since that conversation, one particular phrase has been somewhat bothersome to me "God showed up".

Last night I stood in the shower, the place of best thought, I debated the idea of the trinity and the way the church has taught it to date. My thoughts shifted to how the Spirit is portrayed in the Old Testament with more emphasis on the Spirit coming on people for power and transformation and leaving as the focused task was completed. Then it occurred to me, this ancient paradigm of the Spirit coming and going in and on our lives, this is how we treat the Spirit today.

"God showed up" - did you think it wasn't on His to do list today? I was promised years ago that my God would be with me and live in me forever. I am convinced that He does not come and go in my life just as I come and go in a room. I treat him as if I need to entice the spirit to come.

If the Spirit is living in me and with me, is it not more of a matter of him coming, but rather letting him out?

I do not have to work for the attention of my Father. My identity as a son cannot be taken from me. I need to start living from being a son instead of competing to be a son.

I do not have to compete.

Clarity in Chaos

2009-05-10T22:50:00.000-07:00

My life has lately resembled that of one who is unsure and confused, thoughts without order, a mind of chaos without rest. Feeling confident of things and in a moment experience completely opposing desires, motives, and thoughts. It is a roller-coaster of internal expressions. I've always been one who has loved going to church. Ever since I was young, church was the highlight of my life. I was unconcerned with what was going on or who was going to be there, if I could get in the front door, I wanted to be at church. There was no rhyme or reason for my fascination with church, it was simply a place I loved.

In the last few months I have begun to feel as though I was a young boy again, just loving being at church. Although my reasons and actions different. It is the only place where I experience rest from the barrage of confliction. If there is even a chance that Jesus is going to be there, it is all I want to be in that place. I have found the only place of clarity among the chaos is in the Presence. It can only be described as the place where I feel as though I fit in my own skin. It is the only place where I have felt unwavering confidence in decisions, desires, and motives. This is the result of rubbing shoulders with that which is wisdom; this is the result of Him reminding me of His goodness.

If there is one thing I am convinced of, it is that the more time I spend in the Presence, the better my life is.

This creates an interesting tension in my life. The more time I spend in His Presence, the hungrier I am to get back into it. I leave entirely satisfied and fulfilled, yet wanting so much more. I am learning to live my life from the Presence.

I want to forget how to live without Him.

Erasing

2009-05-06T22:21:00.000-07:00

Still mulling over the same issues previously written about, I found my self reviewing the notes I had taken in my phone's notepad. I came across this:

Fear is an awareness of what I am lacking. Fear invites the spirit of confusion. Every problem's solution we see lives inside of us. My external feelings do not always correspond to my internal reality. Learn to cultivate a thankful heart in the midst of fear. Do not let circumstances control me, a kingdom mindset is not controlled by circumstances....the kingdom is unshakeable.

I am thankful for what I have experienced in the last three years.

I am thankful that I will only continue to learn, grow, and become stronger.

I am thankful that I have and will encounter my God.

I am thankful I have choices.

I am thankful I get to choose Him.

I am thankful.

selfish

2009-05-01T22:22:00.000-07:00

Worry and stress have become staples in my life. I am fully aware of the possibility of living without such poisons, however I continually feed on them, with nothing to show for it. Fear is hiding at the root of my worry and stress, fear for the uncertain, fear for change, fear for complacency.

I have sat alone hour upon hour discussing, analyzing, begging, pleading, surrenduring my plans, my intentions, and my dreams, both current and future. It is in this where my fear grows; where there lies a great uncertainty in the union of my plans and His. I fear leaving behind the wonderful friendships, certain of gaining new ones and reviving old ones, but loving where I am and who I am with now.

More and more, I am realizing my stress and worry is in its essence selfishness. Taking complete ownership for things that have been given to me as if I authored them myself. Stress is the result of forgetting His goodness and the utter goodness of His plan and intentions for my immediate life and future. I convince myself that my plans and goals, as good as they may be, will not be achieved barring a significant change in my life. Simply:

i fear God's plan

I've worked 9/5 while living in a city I did not want to live in, worked jobs I hated, attended schools I loathed, all because I felt it was what I was supposed to be doing. Coming out of that, everything apart of me avoids returning to those places, those places of routine, complacency, and boredom. I know it will all work together for good, I know there are things that are coming that I cannot see, nevertheless these feelings of returning to a familiar boredom frightens me.

35 days.

Uncertait

2009-04-26T23:05:00.000-07:00

Today was the completion of my first day as a college graduate. I am already sick of hearing the question: "How does it feel?" But it is inevitable when anyone realizes what happened this last weekend. It feels great to have accomplished, almost a feeling of arrival, coupled with the desire to want more; to want to learn more; to want to be more; not wanting to settle as achieved, but to achieve greater now.

It is also terrifing. I have all that was concretely planned for my life. Yet there are still things that I know that I will achieve and become, but a fear of not knowing how those will come about grips me. I have been working for this moment for so long, now that it is here - what is next? How do I bridge the gap of my dreams and future to my current reality?

I feel like a batter trudging from the on-deck circle to the batter's box, ready to swing but unable to see where the ball will go. I've been practicing for years, sitting in the dugout, watching, waiting for my opportunity; I'm working to find the balance in patience and aggressiveness. Thoughts of failure race through my mind, but everything that I am knows I am designed for success.

I know that I just need to rest and let the game come to me. A friend of mine said: "Rest is not the absence of activity - but the presence of peace". Provision has never been absent in my life, nevertheless, uncertainty still remains my biggest adversary.

I have been set up to trust.

Counterfeit?

2009-04-09T16:48:00.000-07:00

Sitting in my class, faithfully discussing the intricacies of a language that is no longer in existent, inevitably we detour to a discussion on the character and nature of God from the ink on the page. Quietly I sit in the back, more focused on preventing my head from bobbing than engaging in the class, knowing the inevitable destination of our conversation. Slowly, but definitely the ideas return to the familiar place of what God is not, rather than what God is.

Agendas shift to proving what some label as from God, as expressively fake. Listening, I begin to wonder, are we more comfortable and more apt to focus on what we think we can prove is not God than what we know is God? I wonder why we are willing to limit the limitless based on our frugal minds and emotional experiences. I wonder.

The Almighty I serve has no limits. The Faithful I follow has never been known routine. The phenomenon who knows my name is unique in all that is Him. The willing pattern to base the another's experience on my own encounter as the drawing board for validation is a common but limiting cycle. I am unwilling to judge another's testimony based on my knowledge through experience. If all future actions of God can fit within my experience and within the comprehension of my mind, at 22 years of age, I have thus experienced all there is. If I find it necessary to throw around the labels such as fake or counterfeit because I do not understand, if this is all there is, I want out.

But I know that there is more. I know an argument cannot debate with an experience. I know an argument is only one experience away from changing the argument. I know my praise is not contingent on counterfeit, I praise when its real, I praise when its not.

I know.

dream

2009-03-30T20:15:00.001-07:00

I often have a difficult time engaging in the present. That is, being satisfied with where I am, what I am, what I am accomplishing. The thoughts that consume me are of what is next, where am I going, am I doing to become, or am I simply wasting days, wasting breath.

.i dream.

This mindset often becomes a drawback as I am most always looking to accomplish. I am bored if I am not progressing. This allows me to rarely become stagnant in anything I do, but pushes me to work outside of appropriate timing. Soon I will have opportunities to choose a ministry to assume leadership over. I want nothing more than for people to have an encounter that changes their lives forever in an instant. I want nothing more than to engage in the presence so much that those whom I simply brush shoulders with are consumed with the power that saves nations. I want the world to know...

The laboring images haunt me of failure, boredom, insufficiency. Time to time I pray the simple prayer "God, I don't want to suck". How can I move His presence into my group; how can I transform a group into a movement; what can I do that will make You stay; how can I?

.i can't.

Laying on the ground, arguing my desires with the undeniable need for Him to interact for my hope to be achieved, I hear these words "just be flammable".

.i will.

developing thought

2009-03-04T12:04:00.000-08:00

I listen to people say how 'unable' they are, how much they mess up, how they are nothing. These are people whom I trust, value, and learn from. But is this what humility is? I recognize that without the hand of God on my life, I am nothing; without the Lord I cannot move, I cannot breathe, the very essence of my being is held together by Him every second. But who I am, what my identity is, entirely is motivated and connect to God.

On this earth, there is not a single person who is not innately linked to God, believer or not. God is apart of me just as my blood is apart of me, without it, I cannot not live. This is not a cry of desperation, but a physical reality that without the presence, literally I believe I would not be apart of this earth. Why then would I express that I am nothing, that I do not measure up, why am I identifying myself outside of the presence? He is apart of me and I should not be so ignorant to label myself outside of him.

I was designed in the image, I was created in the mold of greatness, this is who I am, not who I will become. Death is not my destiny, nor is it my savior. I am not a sinner, I have been redeemed and set free, and his redemption is complete, perfect, and does not stop. I have been made new, therefore, I do not have the right to catalog as one who is incomplete, inadequate, and unable. I do mess up, I do make poor decisions; but this is not who I am.

Outside of the presence I cannot find my identity, I cannot be described outside of him and me, me and him.

Done.

2009-02-23T09:28:00.000-08:00

.the church is wasting its authority to raise the dead on raising the old self.

whoa.

hope

2009-02-10T01:46:00.000-08:00

Entering the last semester of my undergraduate course work, the inevitable question is asked at minimum five times daily, "What are your plans for next year?"The honest answer remains 'I don't know' although I often find it fun to dream up extraordinary stories and see if the person I'm talking to will really believe that I'm going to return to manage the orphanage I established in Africa a few years ago, or attempt to revive my career as a freestyle bmx rider which I gave up to go to Simpson. Nevertheless, with their varying response to my ultimate reply of 'I don't know' I've begun to wonder, do I really need a plan?

At some point in everyday, I ask for an increase of my ability to find the voice, to recognize the presence. I am trying to live my life daily according to the voice, rather than the expectations. I do not subscribe to the thought that every decision should be made only by what he tells you to do. But I am trying to take on his mind, I am trying learn to think his thoughts. At some point, in any relationship that continues to grow, you no longer need to talk directly to the person to know how they would react or respond in a situation. You just know, because you know them. This is the relationship I want to develop.

There is little doubt in my mind that I was made to great. I have extraordinary dreams that I will accomplish before I die. As kids, we all aspire to be the most magnificent people, with the jobs that are most rewarding. We were dreamers; I was going to play in the NBA. I did have a back up plan if my basketball skills were not quite up to standard, Plan B was to be the General Manager of the Phoenix Suns, with Plan C being an astronaut. People would tell me the odds, that 1 in every 10 million people achieve these positions, and without skipping a beat, I would tell them that I am that 1. I never grew out of this mindset, although my goals did change, my dreams for my life still large.

I don't have a plan, I have dreams. I am convinced that these dreams will be realized. I am convinced that I do not need a lot, I just need his hand on a little, and it explodes; the good becomes great.

i will travel the world.
i will preach to thousands.
i will see people healed.
i will see people saved.
i will see people forever changed.

RJP

2009-02-01T22:24:00.000-08:00

I am on a quest to live stress-free joy-filled every moment of everyday. I have yet to be successful for an entire day, or even come close. Since I have decided to pursue this lifestyle, I am able to say that I have not had a 'rough' day. I often have bad moments, and many days, numerous bad moments strung together, but when I feel my problem start to outweigh his presence it offers the necessity to stop, regain my focus, and continue with life.
The kingdom consists of righteous, joy, and peace. If I am apart of the kingdom and the kingdom lives inside of me, should not I always have righteous, joy, and peace? The kingdom does not leave me, so why do not I always have the fruit of tree?
In reality, I do not really believe what I say is possible to live. I do not really think that the kingdom is active within my person all the time. Even when I am acting the role, I often feel plastic and fake. It is a slower than desired process of changing my thinking to what I know that I am from what I think I am, from who I think I deserve to become. What am I letting rob my joy, my peace? When I let the kingdom be fully realized internally my external atmosphere will leak such joy and peace. When I learn to always recognize the lies I daily believe about myself rather than the truth that is available to me my life will leak such joy and peace. When I am able to live the concept that I am made in the image of God, that who is fitting my life on his hand like a glove, rather than believing that he is mad at me and dissappointed with me, my life will leak such joy and peace. When I identify that I do have joy and peace as a part of my dna, it becomes a matter of letting it out rather than searching to find it.

quote

2009-01-26T23:07:00.000-08:00

.struggle is the proof you have not yet been conquered and warfare surrounds the birth of a miracle.

whoa.

Thought

2009-01-25T23:02:00.000-08:00

Society will deal in fullness what the church deals with in seed form.

Label

2009-01-07T23:23:00.000-08:00

Everyone is looking for a label, a belonging, an identity; often leaving behind what I want, dream to be to fit a mold. Willing to take cues from the perceived fullness of that mold to achieve the superficial label. Actions become automated from that mold, from what is supposed to be.

It becomes a lifestyle accepting or settling to become the accepted. Labels are an inevitable part of life, part of relationships. I often catch myself taking offense to a label that is often put on me because I desire acceptance from the people who are classifying me.

Although there are pieces of that stereotype that I want, that I pray for, that I am more than willing to accept, there are some that I refuse to assume. However, instead of working in love to redefine the meaning of that label in my setting, I act adversely; shedding both the wanted and unwanted qualities of that stereotype. I let the situation define me, I did not define the situation. I did not lead, I was lead without a leader.

I want to be a label breaker.

I am the exception to the rule.

thought

2008-12-18T01:47:00.000-08:00

.i do not want to experience death to know the value of life.

grace

2008-12-13T00:12:00.000-08:00

They sit closer than a foot from each other, but stand more than worlds apart. One's eyes stricken towards the ground while the other stares back at him, looking for something to grasp, a piece of hope, forgiveness. Pleads of guilt and remorse echo from one face to another. Two young boys, one deemed less than human, the other wrestling to reconcile the world he hears, and the world he sees.

A few short phrases - a denial of a gift; the disowning of a friendship - never had such consequences. Day after day the boy returns to the familiar meeting place only to greet an empty seat across the fence. Every hour loneliness finds shame as he hears his own words of betrayal, wondering if he ushered in the death of his only friend whom he is conditioned to hate, but only feels love. He continues to hold on to hope, with the prospect of again seeing the only thing that seemed to make sense, the boy continues to return wanting, hoping, waiting.

A dream becoming reality, feeling as though his heart joined his stomach, the boy never thought of what he would say, only prayed he could say anything at all. Excruciating silence acted as a wall between the two boys, being lifted by 'I'm sorry'. Unblemished memories of a betrayal and denial of his person flooded his mind, infinite reasons to forever end the forbidden friendship that had held them both together.

Peeling his eyes from the ground, the physical repercussions of his friends words are revealed. It wasn't the pain from a beating that was displayed on this young boy's face. A pain brought on by the shattering of relationship gripped his somber appearance. Again, from across the fence, the words 'I'm sorry; are we still friends?' are uttered. An eternity of thought followed. The silence and the pain were interrupted and broken by a toothless grin, 'of course we are!'

this is grace.
this is love.

*scene from the movie 'The Boy in Stryped Pajamas'

Frustrating frustration

2008-12-08T19:26:00.000-08:00

I sit in a coffee shop often, pretending to study, looking at people walk, talk, interact, and begin to wonder and imagine the lives they've lived, the dreams they've had, the things they love, the things they love to hate. I often get caught up in listening to conversations and think why do some people live in frustration?

I sit and listen to discussions on politics, school policies, movies, friends, family, work, and most of what is talked about is what the person hates about whatever they are talking about. Why President Bush is the worst president ever and Senator Obama will lead us into the warm arms of the anti-christ if he isn't him himself. I think of Gandhi writing "become the change we want to see. ... be willing to surrender what you are for what you could become" and I consider the idea that if I am not willing to shoulder the responsibility of seeing change, then I am not in position to denounce or condemn.

I want to be a frustrator of the frustrated. I want joy and peace to be the tattoos of my life, unable to take them off. I want to swim upstream, I want life.

I am going to be the change I want to see; I am going to live as I want to become; I am going to be free.

Am

2008-12-04T22:18:00.001-08:00

These are the thoughts that have possessed me this week:

What goes into how I act, what I say, how I react, how I respond, who I am? Is this what personality is made of, or is this what pain and fear designed in me? I refuse to say "its just the way I am" because I'm not sure I know what the 'am' is in me.

Over the last month or two, I have attempted to be intentional with how I react and respond to people, ideas, conversations, and situations as the person I want to be, rather than the person I feel that I am. 'You will become who you think you are' - the phrase daily rings in my head.

How much of who I reveal to be is based out of pain, is founded in fear, is focused on not being, rather than becoming? Am I so focused on who I do not want to be that I miss on becoming everything that could be me? I often see myself in retro-spec to a situation where I reacted to someone or something poorly because of an emotional scar from years ago where I said 'I will never again trust here, never again will I love like this'. I find myself running from something or someone because I am afraid to be rejected, because it feels like a place, a situation, a moment that I have lived before, where I was rejected, where pain defined began to define me.

Can I become a person who does not react from the past, who knows no object in fear, who sees himself as who he is destined to become instead of the lies he has believed about himself? This is who I will become - This is who I am

.I am not motivated by fear.

.I am not dictated by pain.

.I move mountains.

.I am favored.

.I am love.