Carla: He looks like the beggar at the Beautiful Gate.
Éa: Who?
Scott: One of the people Jesus healed. One of many.
Éa: Killed?
Scott: HEALED.
Carla: And THAT. is why I don’t want our children to read Bible stories yet.

Jesus specializes in bringing joy and life to sad, desolate places. Sometimes He arrives what appears to be too late.

But it’s never too late for Jesus to come through. Find your hope in Him.

Carla suggested it would be a good idea to write down the reasoning behind my decision to about-face and work for DiamondBack full-time forever.

In brief: Working for West Arête a little bit enabled me to see that I’ve been the victim of a bad case of grass-is-greener syndrome for years. I’ve decided to go back to working full-time for DiamondBack, with no plans to seek alternative employment in the foreseeable future.

Less brief: God, You helped me dispel the myth of the golden-haired woman in my own life sometime in between when I broke things off with Val and when I started dating Carla. But we never applied the same metaphor to my career: I’ve been believing the myth of the golden-haired job probably since my time at Teen Mania. (What Color Is Your Parachute? probably didn’t help.)

“Everything about working for DiamondBack is great, except for the fact that it’s truck bed covers.” I’ve been saying that for two years now. I ignored the first clause, however, and concentrated entirely on the second. Why? Because I believed that there was such a thing as the perfect, soul-satisfying job right out of the box somewhere. If I picked a job that employed the transferable skills I most enjoyed in a field that excited me, I’d be set. I would have made a perfect choice. I’d be right and happy.

I was convinced that working for DiamondBack would predetermine that I suffer a bad midlife crisis in twenty years, so in typical overcommunicative fashion I overplayed the value of several positives of working for West Arête:

• Doing more web development
• Learning new skills
• Working downtown (i.e., access to cultural events, connections to new people, feeling cool)
• Riding my bike to work
• Working with local people for local people
• No vacation days but unlimited freedom to take off as needed
• Better health coverage
• Cultural fit (i.e., environmentalism, priority on work-life balance, bicycles, local business)

And I underplayed many of the positives of working for DiamondBack:

• Presenting the right balance of mastery and challenge
• Working from home:
  • enjoyment of kids,
  • enjoyment of Carla,
  • leisurely pace,
  • no clothes overhead,
  • autonomy,
  • freedom to break for prayer or whatever
• Plenty of allotted vacation days
• Working for Ethan & Brandon
• Working with people I’ve grown to love
• Cultural fit (i.e., Christianity, priority on work-life balance)
• Much higher salary
• Freedom to move to Quebec
• Being a known quantity I’ve already taken fully into account in shaping my life and therefore not having to think about it at all

Looking at the lists above and now having a lucid idea of who I am, it’s obvious which job is the better fit.

The crucial missing ingredient in my career at DiamondBack wasn’t money, local connections, or even the opportunity to do web development. It was commitment. Had I been devoted to my job at DiamondBack, I would’ve said to Brandon last spring, “No, I’m sorry, I can’t accept you taking development completely out of my hands. But I love DiamondBack. So can we please find a way to make this work?”

“I love watching your heart and your head duke it out,” said Barb at church on Sunday when I brought this up, sometimes in tears. Deciding to return to DiamondBack feels different from deciding to depart for West Arête. I sure hope I can discern the difference between my heart and my head next time anything like this comes up again.

New habit to form: Any time I’m tempted to think or express a grumble, I will deny the thought but use it as a prompt to thank God or people for something.

My decisions on what (single) project to undertake next should always come down to where my proclivities, desires, joys, happiness, what enjoy doing and can get happily lost in doing meets up with the supreme joy of others and the pleasure of God.

Give to those who ask of you doesn’t apply merely to money. It also applies to time, and it’s a fine guiding principle to those who ask to hang out with me.

That’s the first time I’ve gone without a meal in years. First of all, thank you, God, for Your plentiful provision. Second, whew, I’m a little light-headed.

How do you decide between living an ordinary life extraordinarily (i.e., what I’m attempting with my status quo) and making extraordinary choices that lead to living in extraordinary circumstances (e.g., moving to Fishtown). The latter calls, but very indistinctly.

John 4 also prompts me to ask: Are there people I keep distant from merely because they’re different from me?

You can’t, perhaps, get living water without letting Jesus dig deep into your soul.

“When you come back to life after death, it’s sort of like God pushed you out of His tummy.”

— Sullivan, unprompted

Hmmm…how can I go to seminary and then put that learning into good use?…

“But Dad, what is God? What is he? Is he just a big huge blump of air?”

— Sullivan, overhearing Carla and me talk about God’s kingdom

“Excuse me, Daddy. God didn’t make this dinner. Mommy did! So, thank you, Mommy, for making this good dinner.”

— Sullivan, after Scott says grace

RE: bin Laden’s death: If God doesn’t take any pleasure in the death of the wicked, neither then shall I.

Light pollution is a theological issue. 🚀 🌎

[while listening to “Three Little Birds” by Bob Marley]
Sullivan: What are “every little things”?
Carla: Just everything. Everything’s gonna be alright.
Sullivan: God. ‘Cos he makes badness into…into…love-ness. He’s a nice guy.

One of several times I’ve imagined myself confronting Perry Babb:

“I have to be honest with you, Perry: I don’t think you’re an apostle, and until you’re willing to discuss the possibility that I’m right, chit-chatting seems a little disingenuous.”