beggar

Now I can't remember if this was Brennan Manning's interpretation of the scripture or he was quoting someone else....but I loved how he talked about the meaning of "the poor in the spirit" ...he said that this can also be interpreted as Beggars at the door of God's mercy.

I love that.

I have been chasing a career, and even been chasing "ministry" aspirations for so many years that I think on this rainy day on a friday, a 30 year old, that's not young if you're 20...and not old if you're 40....I'm just tired. And I also "know" I shouldn't do that, but I do...what up with that?!

On this rainy day in March I reflect on being a Christian, and I just get overwhelmed at all that I'm not, and it makes me think that why I'm so attracted to "the ragamuffin gospel." I obsess over my have not's and failures...i think it's one thing to go..".don't do that"...and have faith in that "Jesus loves me for who I am, not for who I'm not"...but today I find myself begging for the gift of faith to believe that...to be confident in that...

This process of making a movie about Rich is a healthily strange one. It's the movie industry, yet has nothing to do with any career aspirations i have whatsoever. I love that. And doing a movie about your hero is a bonus, but the reason he is my hero, is he's heroic where I struggle...he's strong where I'm weak...he's brave where I'm timid etc....and the healthy part of doing a movie on him...brings me back to the humble posture of a beggar...hey I am in need...and if you would just show kindness...an inkling of compassion in this area...I can get by...but if you don't I won't...that's why I'm not asking...no, I'm begging.

So I realize that these have all been a.d.d. ramblings...so let me wrap up with this...what am I begging for? a heart I once had, that now feels like a distant childhood memory...and strangely I think was...

I remember being on tour with "the color green" and we were what was named "the poor camp in ohio"...or the "dirt poor camp'...I can't remember...I only remember they had some gross bologna pizza...anyway i remember i was ranting after some show we did...and I don't really remember anything i said...I'm sure it wasn't very profound...maybe emotional...but not profound...but what I do remember is my heart...and how free and joyous it felt...I remember it was afternoon...and the sun was pouring in through this chapel through the large window spaces...and I remember the only thing i cared about was Christ. Maybe how David felt when he stripped naked and danced in the streets, or when Peter said, hang me upside down on the cross because I'm not worthy enough to hang the same way Jesus did, or maybe st. francis giving away everything to go to the middle of nowhere and build a church even though everyone thought he was crazy, or shane claiborne starting the simple way, or mark driscoll starting mars hill church, or erwin mcmanus writing a book, or Paul writing all those wonderful letters that became scripture, or billy graham preaching the gospel, or mother theresa felt when she would take the worst shoes so everyone else could have better shoes, or how moses felt when he was crossing the red see, or how the isrealites felt when the saw manna fall from heaven, or when my grandma would be in prayer at 5 in the morning in my living room growing up (and maybe even now in her lucid state), or how randy wheeler felt driving to california, or how I feel even now as I write this blog...this inkling that all that really matters is loving God, being faithful to Jesus, and loving the hell out of everybody that I come in contact with. Especially my enemies, for how could I ever learn to love my enemies, if I had none?

But the sun's not pouring through the windows today. I'm in California and experiencing a seattle rain. And I'm not the 20 year old I once was so full of zeal, I'm a 30 year old who looks and feels like he's 40 and spent a part of his life being a prodigal and part being in awe of the kabod. So I find myself begging today, begging for the sun to pour through the windows of my heart, soul, mind, and weakness. Oh lord, save me. Bring me back to that place that only cares about you, and because of that I care about sooooo much more, but with healthy eyes of surrender, peace, and joy...

Begging you Abba,

your prodigal ragamuffin-david leo

inside joke

I like inside jokes. When I’m involved.

I was “tagged” in some facebook pics from 94, I was 14 (looking at me at 14 feels like the way i was dressed was an inside joke with myself), when I was at a camp in Hillsboro, In. That sounds like a town that would be in Indiana. The camp’s name was Twin Lake. I look like a total idiot, but then again, I still do. I wonder if when I’m 80 and I look back at pictures of me when I’m 30 and think the same thing. When I’m old, gray, imobile, and wearing a diaper. Will I be cool then? Was I cool when I was 14. Am I cool now? Man, I hope not. The pressure that comes with cool, Uggh.

Funny sidenote, for the 3 people that read my blog, my friend Brinson said yesterday, “I think you’re the first friend I’ve been around that has clinical A.D.D….” I have never been diagnosed, but it don’t take much, whether it be having a beer with me or reading this blog, that it’s probably true. And why I can write a blog everyday straight for a week, than take a year off: I get distracted.

Where was I? hey, look at that bird? Where was I, oh, pictures of when I was 14. Anywho, I had this extreme rush of nostalgia when I looked at those pictures. Steve Martin, had a similar experience, in his book “Born Standing Up” he talks about years and years after his success going back to Knotts Berry Farms, where when he was 18-22 he would perfrom on the stage at the park, when he returned he looked at old pics of himself, got on stage, and felt the air of familiarity. When life and Comedy, wasn’t so serious.

What meant so much to be as a 14 year old getting picked up by the church van in beechgrove, In and driving west to hillsboro, which I think was only a 45 minute drive, but at the time felt like a trip across the country, like I was going to a far off magical land. Home life wasn’t always the most fun for me, with the exception of surprise hang out times with my cousins, an occasional birthday, and Christmas, I guess…but for me the highlight of my year was always: Camp. Man, even now a rush of nostalgia runs through me as I remember, a life for me, even for a brief week ever summer (from 7-18) that wasn’t so serious. It was loving, safe, fun, and camp flings weren’t bad either:-)Classic. (warning inside joke: no purple)

I think there is something deeper that has given me the sugar rush of nostalgia. There was something lovely, and deeply moving and meaninful about my 14 year old heart. When I was innocent (not really, but as the old expression goes), when i wasn’t chasing a career (which is the grossest thing currenlty about me), when I simply cared about loving Jesus, people, and frankly just being a kid. I had so much fun at camp. I loved every minute of it. the van ride, eating at Mcdonalds (breakfast) on the way there, finding out which cabin I was in, who was my counselor (this was either good or bad…was he the strict one or the funny one) Once I had the funny one and he gave me his hat, I wore that thing for years. Wow, I haven’t thought about that in 15 years…I loved the games, the friends, the inside jokes, the candy, I loved going to chapel, I (no remember this was a baptist camp in the 90′s) I…me…david leo schultz…even loved dressing up for chapel…not that i had nice clothes…but we had to wear pants to chapel…i think my last few years we were allowed to wear jeans…but no shorts! Where in the bible were shorts unholy…ahhhh religion…you sneaky little bastard….anyway, but I did love it, I loved devotions. This is where I think my heart, and who the hidden, and true david was born, in the still quiet moments of individual devotion time at camp. The simplistic time of reading my bible, and underlining anything that stuck out, and praying bold childlike prayers of wanting Jesus to be my everything, not because my parents were christians, not because i needed rellgion, but because I genuinely believed, somehow even as a 7 year old, then 8, then, 18, then 25, now 30…somehow…by some miraculously genourous eye opening experience in my spirit, I know that the unconditional grace and love that somehow was the only hope I had as a 7 year old, and not much as changed, I’m 30 and still know that this is what I need. But oh where, oh where do I find it except in Jesus. Religion in and of itself, nope. Legalistic Christianity. Nope. Self. Nope. Even in harmless mondane activity of any kid, no matter how enjoyable. Nope. I’ve only found it in the my life quote by Manning “God loves you for who you are, not for who you’re not, cuz none of us are what we should be.”

Even though I tend to make life about so many things. Being funny, being competative, being argumentative, being in love, being in pusuit of my dreams and ambitions, even being “a christian”…but I’ve never found more comfort than in just being God’s, being loved by him, as I did that summers in Hillsboro Indiana at Twin Lakes Camp, as I sat Indian style, looking up at the clouds smiling and praying a childlike prayer of gratefullness for camp, for Jesus…as I imagine St. Francis did as he took a break from building the church. As I did was I was 14, as I did when I was 25, as I do now…the only difference is that the older I get the worse my Christian Resume looks, the more my failures, sins, and people I did not love well are added to my failure list…but thank God, I believe God will not look over my resume when I get to heaven…as Manning put’s it…I am convinced that on Judgement day God will ask me one and only one question…did you beleive that I loved you.

I have a slightly different picture of what will happen, almost as if it is an inside joke between me and God, and as personal and intimate, hard, and beautiful as it will be for me, is the same completely individual experience that it will be for those that Christ knows…I believe on that fateful day Jesus will see me, smile, and hug me, he will kiss me on the forhead, and through his compassion he will communicate his love as if to say, see I told ya…and through that same tenderness it will fly through the pages of my past, destroying both my collection of vices and virtues, and go, you are saved because I saved you, you are loved, because I am Love.

Oh, Lord thank you for Twin Lakes camp and having an inside Joke, called underserved loved, that I’m still trying to figure out the punchline. Amen

Thanks for reading.

Be God’s,

David