Catching Up

Hey everyone, I've decided that after this post I will spend the bulk of my time writing new blogs...so what I'm posting here is a writing that I did at the end of my semester at Kuyper last year. This writing as you will soon find out took place before the miscarriage... I've also included a new piece of writing that I put together to catch everyone up from the miscarriage to today. The old writing is in black and the new writing is in blue.

MY SPIRITUAL JOURNEY… 4/21/2008

How do you in the span of seven pages write about 25 years of living? I guess you would start with breaking down the moments of living against the moments of death. A spiritual journey begins in the womb, but finds meaning and initiative in the first moments that follow ones first words, first thoughts that revolve around cause and effect, the first moments of acknowledging love, and loving another back. In the moments that surround an individuals first experience with judgment, and coming into contact with intimate questions of life that have no completion outside of God. How do you in the span of seven pages write about 25 years of living, and eight years of spiritual living? You leave yourself exposed and completely at a place of honesty and yearning for a deeper sense of reality.

I was born into a family that seemed perfect, my parents were married at a young age, seemed happy, whole and healthy. I had an older sister, a younger brother, we lived in a nice house, we had nice things, and it never seemed like we struggled, God was good, but was he visible? My exposure to God came in bedtime prayers that revolved around being trite and routine, we didn't go to church, and my parents had sent my sister and me to Sunday school maybe twice because at the time it seemed like the "good thing to do." As I think about early childhood I can not recall any true exposure to religion, or God, or Jesus… I can only recall praying the words each and every night of "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep," I had no idea what I was doing, it just felt like my appeasing of something imaginary. It seemed like something I should do. It seemed like it made sense. The seams of my life were about to rip open, and everything that I thought I knew would be broken, bent and splintered.

You see I never had one big moment "aka" a Jesus moment, or a day of conversion, perhaps that comes as a surprise, perhaps I have left myself in a position to be questioned about my faith. In reality I have had many moments, small but significant, quiet but cunning; I have had moment after moment of being broken and mended again. God has been working me over for quite some time, I am stubborn, I am full of myself, and I am too busy attempting to be in control, I am uncertain, I am a sinner, and I have been saved. It has been a journey, and before I go any forward I warn you that this will not be pretty, this will not be an epic with a dashing prince and a damsel in distress, this will follow outside the colored lines, and everything that seemed to be will cease to be. I draw out my past and those that have inhabited it to tell of what God has done for me, and what I have so often done to myself. I in no way tell of those from my past in an effort to "air my laundry" but to assist my past, and create a catalyst for where my faith began and the direction for which it is heading.

15. I was fifteen and had fallen in love with this girl. This girl would later become my wife, and although I wish I could tell you that she was the damsel in distress (and to a point she was) ultimately that would be a lie, as I needed saving, I needed direction and she provided the first steps towards new life. Tina was a churchgoer, she went to early church services on Sundays, and went to multiple youth gatherings through out the month. I started going to church with her in order to appease her, and I was not a fan of the awkward youth meetings, and the early Sunday mornings. I didn't understand God, I didn't understand the Bible, I had deep questions and quite simply it didn't seem as if a lot of people had answers for me. "So because a man and a woman screwed up a long time ago" Now we're screwed? Boy was I arrogant, boy was I ignorant, and selfish, and unknowing of what it would take for God to break me down, and find the stem of potential faith. I was fifteen and stupid, I was fifteen and had a seemingly perfect family, I was fifteen and impatient, brought up by the world with a thirst for the world and both hands dipping into sin without comprehending for a second what sin even meant. I was invincible and young, God was with me, and I was without God.

16. I was sixteen and a year or so in my relationship with Tina, I had begun a trend where I barely slept, ate horribly, and physically wore myself out. This trend would collectively come together in the form of a blood ailment called ITP; ITP was a disease that caused the platelet blood cells in an individual to become depleted to the point of not being able to clot blood properly. ITP patients bruise easily, and bleed easier. ITP patients have broken blood vessels that parade across their skin, mono-like fatigue, and often times an irreversible nature. I sneezed one day and ruptured blood vessels in my face and started to bleed without the capability to clot, I found myself in the hospital and looking at consecutive days of treatment. I was always healthy as a child; barely ever did I get sick let alone end up in the hospital. I was weak, I was broken, I was bleeding and hearing remarks of concern that were cloaked with hope but were shadows over true doubt and fear that I would not live beyond sixteen. I laid in my bed two nights into my hospital stay and as my condition worsened, I stared into the darkness, and let my mind wander its depths. I watched the clock turn from midnight to 1am to 2am on forward. I listened to the sound of nurses footsteps shuffling outside my isolated room, I found my shallow breathes breaking harmony with the dripping sound of the IV bag, and for the first time in my life I took in the potential for death. Laying back and staring at the ceiling, my mouth was the Sahara, a place that tasted of blood soaked bandages, and medicine long swallowed and waning in worth. I had seen my childhood invincibility break into a million pieces, and I left my childhood prayers in the latter. For the first time I prayed a prayer that meant something, it had to mean something because it was bound by my desperate need to live. I thought that I may not get up the next morning; I thought that I may die right there, and I desperately needed a God that meant something.

"God I do not know you, but you know me."

This was not my conversion, for I am stubborn. It was merely an opportunity to move from "Now I lay me down to sleep" to God allow me to live, I need to know you better" God had broken my body, and built me back up, and yet I remained asleep in my transgressions. I remained fast asleep and still without really knowing God. 17. I was seventeen and my knowing of God was dense, I went to church and became very good at writing love notes to Tina, and filling page after page with sketched faces on my sermon notes, I was doing God a favor, and boy did he owe me. I attended Christian events like Spring Hill, I went to "Acquire the Fire" not once but twice and helped out at a booth for the mother of the young girl who professed her faith at school and was shot for it, this being the Columbine shootings. I was moving along and doing well for God, and yet not knowing a thing about him. Then it all started to unravel.

My family that seemed so perfect became quite the opposite as my sister fell into a trap of drugs and abusive boyfriends, my parents often didn't know what to do. My mother fell into depression over what she deemed "her fault," my Dad closed up and I was left to break up arguments between my sister and my mother. April would eventually become suicidal; interesting how a drug that's supposed to make life livable for the user, actually creates an altogether different reality. Cocaine takes a broken reality, and exploits it. I was too naïve then to really understand the full implications of brokenness, to see beyond Sunday sermon talks, into its truly shattered nature. Yet I was witnessing my vision of my perfect family falling apart at the hands of one of its members. My sister was losing her life over a white powder in a little plastic bag, and one wrong choice on top of many. I wasn't positive about the whole "God character" back then, although I honestly wanted to be. I so badly wanted to be, because I didn't believe that anything could save her, and I had to believe that God was beyond anything. Invincibility lost, trite prayers gone missing, my perfect family crumbling, oh how I need you God.

18. I was eighteen with this thing for music, more than anything it was for recognition. I was a part of many bands, a singer that loved the stage, writing music and thrashing to and fro to the pulsing rhythm of electric guitars and dashing drum solos. I found myself involved with band members that lived for the scene, they lived for the opportunity to one day make a lot of money, to have a lot of women, and a lot of hard nights, to give for the music and hope that the music gave back in the way of a never ending party and outstanding recognition. The lyrics I wrote were drawn from my history were in relation to my journey and were full of rigor, of promise, of despair and hope. I was writing about Jesus, and I didn't even know it. Show after show, I would always have at least one individual come up to me and ask me if we were a Christian band due to my lyrics, and I didn't know what to say. "I write with a purpose" I remarked, "I write in conjunction with real life issues, and real life hope" I was writing about God, about brokenness, about death and resurrection. I ended my music career with my vocal cords bleeding, leaning against the cold steel of a moving van, and staring off into the night sky. I found myself bleeding, staring into the darkness and praying again to "know God better."

Over the course of the next couple years I lived the life of a heathen, of a wannabe Christian, of an all around good guy, and as a young man in search of purpose. Tina and I started to go to a local community church, and it was during this time that I fell in love with the idea of God. I fell in love with the knowledge that surrounded God; I loved the intellectual nature of knowing and describing God to others. I found myself intrigued by the teachings of the pastor, about the community of people that surrounded me. I sought after God by way of reading enticing books about God, I wanted to know more about God than anybody else, and I wanted to be able to explain him to everyone, yet even if I wouldn't admit it at the time… I wanted to explain God to myself. I moved out from my parents house and into an apartment with my fiancée' and my best friend at the time. My friend and I shared a bedroom, and Tina my fiancée had her own. My searching for God on an intellectual level brought me into self righteousness and left me unaware of my sins, and the depths of my sinning. Until one night, as I lay in my bed and entered into prayer, I sought God, and in my time of prayer I encountered God, I encountered others in their prayers and I heard in the quiet the Devil himself. I contemplated bringing this up, I contemplated this because I wonder if its still warranted in 2008 to believe that an individual can not only hear God, but hear evil, and hear others from a realm that is supernatural. I prayed, and I heard the prayers of others as multiple languages conversed, and the quiet voice of the deceiver came to me with the words "he is a liar, this is all hopeless" I said Jesus, and the deceiver left me. The following minutes brought me into a low grade sleep, and then I was awakened by a sound that came across like a shotgun, that shook the room and knocked a few blinds off their mounts. I paced the hallway to my bedroom, my roommates were completely asleep, my cats were wide eye with suspense, and I was left wondering what had just happened. I stared out the window seeking the lights of an ambulance. I laid awake for an hour and a half and wrote about my encounter with God.

Books like Story by Steven James, Epic by John Eldredge, the Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard, started to form my theology and my thoughts of God. I read the Bible, and wrote about my observations of everyday occurrences that seemed to speak God. I started a blog that a number of individuals that I worked with started to read and I started to influence those with little hope to have a greater hope. I questioned, I probed, I became angry, and I challenged the precepts of the day, and never did I for a second believe that I was of the "Christian religion" no I was rapidly becoming a follower of Christ. I would eventually leave my community church behind, I could no longer go to a church that didn't represent the Jesus that I read about in the Bible and in all my intriguing books I bought. I could no longer go to a church that didn't preach the cross. So I stopped going to a church, and started to study on my own.

I was set to get married in the fall of 2006, and the morning following my bachelor party I awoke with a rising headache, and the room was spinning from a long night of stupid drinking. Entering the bathroom, I turned on the light and was horrified to find an inch thick of vomit crusted like a mask across my faith, completely covering my mouth and the innards of my nostrils; I should have died, I must had puked in my sleep, and God willing I did not choke or suffocate on myself. Here I was this man coming to faith, impressed by my own intellect, and attempting this individual spiritual journey awaking in my own vomit. Oh God, how can you love a back n forth man like me? Thank you for loving me in moments where I clearly did not love myself.

Faith has a way of waning outside of community and shortly after getting married to Tina we started to "church hop" but ultimately we found community in organizing Bible studies, and we attracted more unbelievers than believers. It was awesome. Tina and I attended a home church that was rooted in the Pentecostal faith, in the middle of a living room I saw a mans scarred, damaged leg heal, I felt the presence of the Holy spirit, I was knocked off of my feet, overwhelmed with joy and in the following weeks I spoke in tongues, and witnessed more healings. I saw my intellect fall to the wayside as I was pressed by the presence of God. I became confused by what it meant to be a follower of Christ, about how to practice Christianity, I was perplexed by the many forms, and the names, and the groupings. All in all, I despised the separation of denominations, of differing theology, of the different sects pulling for their celebrated traditions to dominate over others. I wanted to witness the body of Christ, not the many bodies of Christ, but the one Body of Christ that functions without ego, without apprehension, but with pure Just, Holy Love for one another. I wanted a Jesus Community.

I still want that.

So what is my story, where does my spiritual journey end? It doesn't, it continues for as long as I'm breathing. God has allowed me to see his work in all of creation; I understand that he works all things for his good. I have seen God in the face of a newborn child, I have seen God in the mourning members at a funeral home, I have seen God in the tired hands of a homeless man in Detroit, I have seen God in the marrying of my wife, I have seen God in sickness, in broken families that pretended to be perfect, in despair and triumphant. I have seen God in the face of my wife through trembling finger tips and tears that speak pregnancy. I have known God through sleepless nights, as I studied away and lost my head in the mess of academia and have been sustained only by his presence and purpose that he has in me.

I never found God, he was always there, and I have just been listening more...

He was knocking when I lay in the dark, blood soaked and alone.

He was knocking when I sat there between cocaine and my sister.

He was knocking when I was falling asleep in church and pretending not to hear a word.

He was knocking when I selfishly sought lust alone, and spoke of a different life.

He was knocking when the razor was being pulled and suicide was a family reunion.

He was knocking when I laid there drunk, and lost between the spin and the sickness.

How do you in the span of seven pages write about 25 years of living? I guess you would start with breaking down the moments of living against the moments of death. A spiritual journey begins in the womb, but finds meaning and initiative in the first moments that follow ones first words, first thoughts that revolve around cause and effect, the first moments of acknowledging love, and loving another back. In the moments that surround an individuals first experience with judgment, and coming into contact with intimate questions of life that have no completion outside of God. How do you in the span of seven pages write about 25 years of living, and eight years of spiritual living? You leave yourself exposed; you spill out everything that makes you human, you become more honest with God than you have been with yourself. You become completely wrapped up seeing God everywhere, his presence so ultimate amongst the ordinary everyday, and the often overwhelming tomorrow.

Present Day: Commerce Michigan

It has been roughly a year since the post above... for a number of years I posted blogs at my myspace site and just recently I've made the jump to a blogspot. I'm not entirely sure what has been covered in the past blogs that I've posted (hopefully I don't have to do too much back tracking. I'm willing to put it all on the line here... so I'm going to introduced myself through this writing in two different ways. I'm going to cover who I am, and what this is all about.
My name is Lance Pearce and I'm going to be 26 at the end of this month- I'm married to a beautiful woman named Tina and we have been together since we were 15 and 16. Her and I went to different high schools and met through my cousin Nick. I've spent the years since high school being involved in a variety of activities. Some of these activities include having spent 6-7 years studying the martial arts... I eventually decided to cease my studies when my sensei decided to move away to Switzerland for business and things started to get hot and heavy with a variety of life issues at the time. I'm trained in Ashihara karate and have experience with base Jujitsu, mid-western boxing and grappling. After martial arts I spent a great deal of time in attempting to create music and sang (well really screamed) for multiple bands (thisweaksname, A Storybook Tragedy, Strengthen What Remains) and for awhile really enjoyed the rush of being on stage, and interacting with people on a different level than ever before. Both my martial arts training and music were cut short when I realized a greater need that I wanted to be a part of... God had become a great presence in my life and he would be worth all the time, energy and patience that I had.

This kind of writing typically goes against the organic feel I generally write with... I love writing, creating and studying. My life the past couple years has been a whirlwind of activity, and I have enjoyed learning a lot about how the world works, about how people work and I have been excited to see how God works. 2 ½ years ago I made the decision to approach the world of ministry, if I'm going to do a “career” the rest of my life it needs to be something goes beyond a paycheck or an immediate need but it must be an everlasting need. I started a coffee house Bible study a few years back, and found myself more and more engaging those I work with, with the Gospel and the reality of truth and the reality of the world and the lies we're consistently sold on.
The summer after Tina and I got married... we decided that it would be good for us to move away and to challenge the world that we've always known. We moved to the west side of the state (Grand Rapids) and the only one we knew out there was my younger brother Matt. I started attending Kuyper College for Biblical studies and finished an incredible year there. The school year ended with my Grand mother passing away and Tina and I receiving the news that we were expecting our first child. Life seemed really good, really sound and promising. I was in my sweet spot in life, Tina was fulfilling one of the only goals she had in life with getting pregnant and us starting a family. We were attending a mega church called Mars Hill and other than the lack of community... the teaching their was powerful and encouraging. We ultimately decided at the end of the school year that we needed to come back home and that we needed family around us for the baby and that I could always attend school back at home.
So the summer of 2008 became the summer of moving back home... the process was tough because I really enjoyed Grand Rapids, Kuyper and everything that we had going there. My brother and I had started to become close, but between school and work I rarely had the opportunity to see Tina. As the story goes (which can be read below in a series of former blogs) Tina and I were home a few days and in that time frame we lost the baby. Devastation spread through my house hold and a series of struggles erupted out of our loss. I wasn't sure where I was in faith at this time, where Tina and I were... and at times it felt as if I couldn't go on. The pain was so deep and so real that for the first time I really didn't know what to say and in reality I didn't really want to hear about what others had to say. Times of great loss have little room for words to be said, no words can suffice for the pain that we were going through. Sorry felt weak, and anything else just felt like words being said to help us to “forgive and move on.” At this time were not attached to any church, and in fact that has been our story for years. My history with the church goes something like this... We've been all over the map and have attended a Nazarene church, a 1,000 person church that was loose theologically, a 11,000 member mega church with “small church” being nearly impossible, we attending spirit healing house churches and finally we're now settled in a wonderful church called SoulQuest here in Waterford.

So who am I?

I believe in the power of the Gospel. I believe that there is a God that cares, loves, interacts and wants to know his creation better. I love the world of academia and yet I see striking issues with academics. I'm studying for a degree either in Exegetical studies or Pastoral ministry and I'm not sure if and when I'll be attending seminary for my Masters. I'm intensely interested in the emerging church movement and for many years found going to church to be frustrating because I felt that the church very rarely looked like the Jesus presented in the Bible. I found it weird and at times I still do that “we go to God” and yet we speak of all being God and God being everywhere. I respect and love community, I struggle with the apparent issues that come from telling someone that you are “Christian” because “Christian” has taken on a list of bad labels and people tend to treat you differently. It's always frustrating when people who have known you for awhile, who have always talked a particular way with you upon hearing that your interested in going into ministry they apologize for a dozen different things and treat you entirely differently. Ugh. I'm okay with my reputation being soiled but its tough when relationships are hampered because of all the preconceived understandings of what it looks like to be a Christian in 2009 or better yet “religious.”

I have been creating and crafting my own Biblical world view and ethical system. I believe that God can do anything and everything through his Holy Spirit and that he has healed Tina and I since our crisis of last summer. It is on the cross that Jesus died for all of humanities sin and that Christ rose from the grave and ate with, spoke to and live amongst his disciples for 40 days and then returned to be with the Father. I believe that it is through Christs victory on the cross that death, sin and corruption was unmasked and by being unmasked- death, sin and corruption has been disarmed. Being unmasked allows those who are Spirit born to see the enemy waiting, and being disarmed rids the enemy of his apparent ability to work in the darkness, to tempt and to destroy.

I'm willing to put it all on the line- I believe that the enemy is unmasked and is disarmed. I believe having a reliability on God, on his spirit, on his son and on the Body of Christ.

Who am I?

I've been the worst sinner possible.
And
I've been redeemed.

I'm willing to tell the world what I've done, because of what he has done for us.

I have nothing to hide because I do not worry about my reputation. I'm ready and willing to dismantle my name in order to raise his. I love God, my wife and my family.

What is this all about?

Quick and simple. This is about proclaiming the message. I'm studying to write and share. I'm studying to understand and grow frustrated (and encouraged) over the Bible. I'm willing to allow the scriptures to completely, absolutely “wreck my life.” I'm excited and in love with my current church, I know and understand that God has a blessing waiting for Tina and I in a future pregnancy. I'm going to be working on a variety of projects this summer concerning ministry and hopefully in the near future I can move towards my future career and away from my present job.
I'm excited to see God change the world.
I'm excited to be a part of a community- a body that wants to do the same.

I'm ready to change the world. I'm serious.

That's it for now... I really have to get somethings done today before work.
I hope you've enjoyed reading this and like I said typically my writings are a bit more organic than this.

Be in Peace,
Lance