Waking up twice makes you philosophical

It does. Seriously.

When having lunch after the first of the now so infamous early mourning wakings, me and my working buddy got really philosophical, asking the most important questions in the world like:
Do blind people dream? If they do, Do they dream in color? And: What is color? If it's reflection of light, does the red rose in the pitch black room have any color?

Yesterday lunch was also interesting, but that had more to do with funny names. Is the name Bjørgulv gender specific? If so, what gender is it? Or is it a name that can be used for both genders? (Ok, maybe not a very rewarding debate for all you English - not Norwegian-speaking people...)

Well, now I'm sitting here after the last of the three training mornings, rather tired, but, hey, I got to see the sun rise three days in a row. It's been a long time since that has happened...

On the 23rd, we also celebrated the Norwegian celebration night: Sankthansaften. It's supposedly the night when the sun is up for the longest period of time during the course of a year, and that is reason to celebrate. (although it actually was some days earlier...) On the 23rd we had sun for 19 hours and 16 minutes, from 03:41 to 22:57. And still I woke up before sunrise. Isn't that incredible? I have to write it, in order to show this to my grandchildren. Not that I have grandchildren, I don't even have children, but it's an expression you use, you know?

Ok, now the tired humor has started to pop its head up, so I bedder (you took that one bedder as in a mix between bed and better) go to bed or something to reverse this oh tired state of mind.

Thank you for all your encouraging words. I really appreciate it.

In Him.

-paul andreas

Just between a sunburn and a mosquito bite

Just thought it was a nice heading, so I thought I'd use it.

Now I'm at home, not in my YWAMbase home, but where I grew up-home.

Relaxing in the sun, doing nothing and then all of a sudden, doing everything at once, just laying there, and then BAM! a job offer for the summer, and then BAM! BAM! I got two offers. Wow. I didn't think I got to work this summer, because I hadn't applied anywhere... But God provides. And I'm glad He does.

The first one is the one I've been doing this week, washing all the floors in a school, as well as polishing them afterwards. A big job, but we are seeing progress.

And. I'm gonna distribute newspapers for two weeks this summer, and training starts tomorrow "morning" they call it, I call it "deep sleep, please don't wake me up"-time. At 3:30 (AM! -in the morning. (Maybe that's where they got the "morning part from.)) Usually it's from 5AM to 7AM (05-07 in the morning for all you metric people). I didn't know people woke up that early. I knew they went to bed that late, but not waking up... But tomorrow it's my turn. I think I will manage it though, all complaining put aside.

I will update you on how it was. If I am able to. : 0 (yawning for those unsure of the : and the 0)

And, read the post before this one, the article. It's well.

-paul andreas

A really good article. You should read it.

I got this really good article from Relevant, and wanted you guys to read it as well. If I'm not allowed to posty it here, please tell me and I'll take it off...

And, no, this is not one of those commercials diguised as a "oh-I-really-like-this-now-become-a-member"-posts. Idon't like thoose kind of posting. This is genuinely from me. OK.

He had some things in here that are really important for us in our oh-so-cosy-christianity to hear. So go on reading.



4:17 by Stephen Simpson

This is where God lives. And sometimes I hate that.

It's 4:17 a.m., the morning after we brought home our first baby. By "first," I don't mean we plan on having more someday; I mean that there are three more at the hospital that belong to us. My wife had quadruplets three weeks ago, and since the babies were premature, they come home one at a time, when each can handle eating and breathing on his or her own. Emma Grace made it out first, since she goes through a bottle of formula like a frat boy chugging beer.

Having a newborn baby home has been a tremendous blessing ... and a total nightmare. On the one hand, having four healthy babies has been a miracle. Since quad pregnancies are high risk for mom and the babies, anxiety filled the 33 weeks running up to the birth. When they were all born healthy and beautiful except for some typical preemie woes, we rejoiced along with a host of family and friends.

But I'm not rejoicing right now. My wife woke me up at 3 a.m. because the baby needed to eat and our dog was freaking out because some diminutive creature making earsplitting sounds had invaded her territory. I grumbled, rubbed my eyes and went to do what I must. I chilled out our dog, told my wife to go to bed and finished feeding the baby. Since she needs to take some medicine at 5 a.m., I figure I'll stay up instead of sleeping just long enough to get started on a really good dream. Something involving the Caribbean, room service and lots of sleep.

See, I'm not good at this stuff. Don't get me wrong—the love I feel for my children has motivated me to do things, like changing a diaper that looks like a Hershey bar exploded, that I previously thought unbearable. But I hate it when anything messes with my schedule. Make me do something that interferes with my daily workout, and I get pissed. Mess with my sleep, and you'd better bring a weapon. But I can't be like that anymore. I have four little helpless people and an insecure dog depending on me. If this is hard with just one, I’m dead once all four get home. I'd buy stock in Red Bull if I were you.

But this is exactly where I need to be. I accepted Christ at age 7, but I have a feeling that this is where I become a Christian. I have to do something hard just for love rather than glory, money, pleasure or even some spiritual epiphany. For maybe the first time in my life, there's no kickback. Of course, loving my children and watching them grow in wonder and discover awe are huge rewards, but it's gradual. I can’t stand doing something painful and difficult with no immediate gratification. Even when I exercise, I get the immediate removal of guilt for the pizza I ate the day before. When I take care of my kids, I do it just because.

And that's what's going to make me a Christian.

I've been working for The Man in some form for a long time. I was president of my youth group by age 14, an InterVarsity leader in college, a youth pastor by 22, and now I'm a Christian psychologist who writes and speaks in public about Christian things. But if I'm honest, I mainly do that stuff for me. I usually check myself and give God the glory by the end, but I begin most things because something is in it for me. I like the adrenaline rush of tackling tough issues in the name of Christ. It makes me feel cool and smart. I feel neither of those things right now. I feel overwhelmed, jittery from too much caffeine, and my ears are ringing from the last time Emma was screaming.

Yup, this is where I become a Christian, because I can’t pretend I’m doing this for someone else while I lap up all the glory on the sly. I have to do this only for love. I always imagined that God had some Great Thing for me to do before I croaked. I was pretty sure it was writing a best seller or keynote speaking that changes lives. I was wrong. If I can survive being the father of quadruplets, that will be my Great Thing. Not quite as sleek and sexy as having a book crawling up the best-sellers list. Not nearly as hip as speaking at conferences where people tell me how witty and wise I am.

Thank God, because all that other stuff would only make me more full of crap. Even if I accomplish a Great Thing for God, changing a diaper in the middle of the night will do more to make me a real Christian. Jesus sacrificed Himself for the glory of God and the love of humanity. He didn’t do it to make money, to look cool or to feel smart. Learning to sacrifice for my children will go a lot further toward making me like Him than becoming a pithy, popular sage who dispenses edgy Christian wisdom.

Oops, 5 a.m. Gotta give Emma her medicine. I get to do something that isn't about me right now. There's something freeing about that. I don’t have to stress about getting my book published or my next speaking gig. I get to forget about my career for a while. I get to forget about me for a while. I’ll hold Emma Grace in my arms, look into her beautiful eyes and feel a deep, potent love that I’ve never felt before.

This is where God lives. And sometimes I love that.



Dr. Stephen Simpson is a psychologist and the Clinical Director of Fuller Psychological and Family Services at Fuller Theological Seminary. He lives in Southern California with his wife, Shelley, and the quadruplets. Simpson is now addicted to caffeine and bouncy seats.

About A Blind Date

OK, OK...

After numerous requests, I feel obliged to tell the story in full:

One of our outreach teams came up with the brilliant idea to set everyone on the whole base up on blind dates. This is how it all happened:
On last Monday almost everyone on the base received a card saying something like this:

"This might sound weird, but I really need to talk to you.
Can we meet at so and so at this cafe?
Please don't tell anyone about this."

It was a bit of tension in the air that day, everyone walking around wondering who this date was.
My date was at 20:15 at Mami's in Skien, a cafe close to the prison. I really was unsure about how it was gonna be and who it was that had sent the note. I thought I had it figured out, as I recognized the hand writing. But still, I was unsure about how to take it... What if it's some girl that likes me, and I donæt feel the same towards her. What then?

20:15 came, and I started moving towards Mami's. On my way I met Ruth Silje and Kristin, they wanted to borrow my newly bought bike (50 kr at a police auction... a Merida, pretty cheap I would say.) and I found the bike. Ruth Silje was acting weird, and laughing a lot. And when Tone Marie walked past us, she started laughing even more... Hmmm.

I walked towards Mami's, but when I reached the door, it was closed. Weird. Bad planning from my date's side. Mami's closed at 18:00 but our date was 20:15.

Then I saw Tone Marie. She had also received a note. With the same content. To meet this someone at Mami's at 20:15. We laughed about it and walked back to the base, to join Jordan's 21st birthday party.

My first Blind Date was over, and one of the best practical jokes played on us on the base was now accomplished.

The most genious fact about this thing is that everyone except Kjersti got a note, so that all the blame would be put on her... Just as a payback for all the practical jokes she's been behing in the past.

Peace out.

-paul andreas