Battling Spiritual Discipline - My Trip to India

"I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn’t resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing a saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes. After that I liked jazz music. Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way. I used to not like God because God didn’t resolve. But that was before any of this happened." - Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz

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Head pounding, mouth dry, throat tied in knots; a knot to hold back tears, but also a knot to hold back my own vomit. I hadn't slept a wink in three days, and I'd been wearing sunglasses for two of them just so the lights wouldn't be so bright. I was sick as a dog, especially since I had made it back to Oklahoma (no thanks to John Jameson).

"Did you have fun?!"

"Did you have an AMAZING trip?!"

"Do you think you'll ever go back?!"

All of these questions pounded into my ears like guilty cannons of disappointment, anger, heartbreak, and confusion. Friendly church-goers meant well with so much love, but every inquisition drove me closer and closer to the edge of spiritual, mental, and physical insanity. Everything I thought I knew about life, love, and spirituality had come to a screeching halt, yet at the same time it wouldn't stop moving at full speed ahead.

"How the hell did I end up here?" is all I could think. I was angry at God, angry at my friends, angry at the church, the world, myself, and my throbbing hangover.

The front row seat of the church's sanctuary felt colder than rock bottom. Staring bitterly into the eyes of an infinite God was horrifying. Right before the moment of breaking, four leaders in my church approached me in between services. Immediately after sitting down, this wonderful man of God, Justin, asked me a question.

"What's wrong, brother?"

Three words. I could only say three words before the wall I was building around myself came crashing to the ground.

"I need help."

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I had been in India for three or four days, if I remember correctly. Somewhere in the slums of Chennai, Tamil Nadu, I stepped my dizzied little body out of the car and into the dusty, hot, soggy night air. The sun had just set for the evening but my day wasn't close to over.

We weaved our way through the alleys, past buildings stacked atop buildings, up three flights of stairs, and into a space smaller than my bedroom where a group of women and children were congregated. We had church. We had church because that's what church is. We had church in a small place where sweat was dripping from my forehead, and every prayer was a cry of desperation for at least a fragment of hope in life.

Other than the natural effects of jet lag, and the weak stomach I had been filling with completely foreign food, I had been doing well up to this point. Tired? Exhausted. Still emotionally stable? Absolutely. Would I remain that way for long? If 30 minutes is a long time, then you got it.

Once the service ended, we prayed for all the church members. Being the young buck I am, I was involuntarily nominated as the minister to pray over all the children who needed it. As I came before The Lord and began to talk to Him about the two kids in front of me, my heart wandered down into a deep cavern I don't often go. I can't exactly point my finger on what that place is, but it's somewhere my mind, heart, and spirit go to be painfully disciplined.

It was there I sat face to face with an infinite God, majestic in all ways, worthy of all reverence and sacrifice. I looked at the children - weak, vulnerable, broken - then I looked back at God, with holy fire burning in His eyes, and tears began to well up in mine.

"Father... Ten years from now, these children won't remember me or my prayers for a moment. Ten years from now, where will they be? Ten years from now, will they even know who You are?"

"Son, ten years from now, I will remember everything you bring to me. Even them, even you, even your prayers."

Suddenly I whirled back into the realm of physical reality and finished my prayers for each child that came forward. The service had ended for the evening, but as I've said before, my day wasn't close to over.

We went on our merry way, down the three flights of stairs, and back into the cluttered streets. Even though I had felt a spiritual weight for the entire nation since the moment we arrived in India, I found it becoming heavier; I found the weight descending onto my heart just like the stairs I was descending myself.

This was the moment that was burned into my mind with searing, unforgettable vividness.

An elderly woman came limping towards us, grabbing onto any surface that could be used as a temporary crutch to get her joyful little self farther along. With a big smile on her face, she greeted us, praised The Lord, and shook our hands. After we were introduced, I was told that this woman has a very bad case of Parkinson's disease. She could no longer walk and spent most of her time crawling on her hands and knees. The people on the team I was with proceeded to tell me that she lives less than a block from the church we just came from, and that she attends every service, taking over an hour each trip just to crawl her way there.

A woman so broken, with so much less than I will ever have, had more hope than I have ever known.

To think that I have, even once, groaned about the fact that I "had to go to church" early on a Sunday morning made me sick. The fact that, for most of my life, I have given God nothing but a half-assed sacrifice began lumping up in my throat.

Finally, lyrics to a song by Joe Day forcefully made their way into my mind, as if the floodgates of spiritual discipline had come crashing down.

"Oh my soul, Oh my Jesus. Judas sold you for thirty, I’d have done it for less. Oh my soul, Oh my Savior. Peter denied you three times, I have denied you more."

The woman gave me a smile with authentic joy stretching from ear to ear, and I returned the gesture with a smile a half size too small. I had to walk away. I had to.

We made our way to the car, went to dinner, and went back to the house to sleep. There weren't many words out of my mouth for the rest of the night, nor did I sleep many hours. Every time I shut my eyes, I could only see the faces of children who had nothing, the woman helplessly crawling her way to church, the smile stretching from ear to ear.

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We had so many experiences while in India, I could write blog after blog after blog about them. We met three young men from Burma who attended the Bible college we worked in for a few days. They traveled on foot for fifteen days to get to Chennai, just to be taught about The Lord. They had a passion to be equipped, know more about God's goodness, and then walk fifteen days back to Burma to plant churches.

I had the opportunity to teach worship songs to orphans in a remote village outside of Vijayawada. They had so much joy in their hearts. Even though they had no father, they were content because they had been adopted by the true Father.

Leading worship was what I did most there. Twenty-one times in the first seven days of the trip, to be exact. By the end of the first week, my voice was getting weaker and weaker.

We prayed for people who were sick, people who were hurt, and people who were oppressed by demons. We saw incredible things happen, we saw demons flee, and we saw faith that transcended anything I've ever seen here in America.

We spent days in a village called Thonglong. It rests peacefully in the mountains of Manipur, and it is populated by people with the kindest hearts you'll ever meet.

We spent days in Delhi, where we visited churches in the slums again. The same heart-wrenching things I experienced in Chennai were there as well. Yet the same hope I saw in the woman with Parkinson's, I saw in the children as we told them about Christ.

Hope is rising in India. Revival is shaking the ground.

In the midst of the incredible ways God was proving Himself, I was sinking deeper into depression than I had in a long time. My anxiety problems caused me to get sick, motion sickness overwhelmed me every single time we got in the car, the lack of sleep tore me down every day, and the spiritual weight of the entire nation was getting heavier. I am very sensitive to the emotional, spiritual, and physical pain of others. Sometimes to a point that it affects my physical body by feeling the pain they feel, or by getting wildly sick in less than a minute.

For those of you who don't know me very well, or have never heard my testimony, I have been battling deep depression since childhood.

For those of you who have the spiritual gift of discernment, you probably have an idea of what kind of spiritual weight I was feeling.

The majority of people in India are Hindu. Their religion consists of hundreds of deities that they worship, some of them being big rocks in the middle of their villages. The people of India have been under an incredible amount of spiritual oppression for longer than your mind can even begin to imagine.

The weight became heavier. It opened old wounds. Something inside of me died.

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Think about Bruce Wayne in Batman Begins. As a child, and as a man, he sees things no man should ever have to see; he experiences things no child should ever have to go through. But without those things, he would have never become the man that he is. Batman would not exist. Lives wouldn't be saved. Lives wouldn't be changed.

I've told a few of my close friends about how I feel as if something inside of me died in India. They ask what, and I can't seem to point my finger on it. All I know is that, whatever it was, it's going to help me become the man I was made to be. Even though it hurts, the old phrase still rings true: What doesn't kill you makes your stronger.

On my fifth day in India, I wrote a journal entry that reads: God, I never asked for this. I never wanted to come here. All I want to do is go home.

I remember everything about writing that. I remember the anger inside of me, the hopelessness, the apathy, the exhaustion. I was mad because I had a life back home. I was involved in leadership at my church, I had a girlfriend, I had an awesome group of friends, I was genuinely enjoying my life for the first time since I was a child. I had a spoken word ministry that was finally getting off the ground. It was all about my own selfish ambitions. Part of it was genuine because I never had a heart for overseas missions, and I was frustrated because God was using me back home and I felt uselessly depressed in India. Frustration, confusion, and selfishness don't mix well, my friends.

In Delhi, the last destination of our trip, I spent two of the three days in bed or on the toilet. I became very depressed while I was there, and I got so sick that I had to come back to the US a week early.

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I was staring at a small screen less than two feet away from my face for over twenty hours. Many of those I spent crying, for many reasons I didn't even know. I just couldn't stop. I couldn't stop crying in the same way life wouldn't stop moving forward, and in the same way the plane home wouldn't stop flying.

I watched some of my favorite movies, like Monster's University and 500 Days of Summer. The latter probably wasn't the best choice, seeing as I was already an emotional wreck.

I could go into detail about the flight home and the terminals and what not, but there's nothing interesting about airport security.

We landed in Dallas, TX on October 18th. My dad and I met my mom and my girlfriend in the airport, and I couldn't have been happier to be home. The first thing I had to do was eat a cheeseburger.

We made it back to my hometown by the time the sun had gone down. I got my bags, got my car, and headed back to Oklahoma City. I couldn't wait to see those city lights.

Before I even made it out of Pauls Valley (my hometown), my girlfriend broke it off. Like, hey, if India wasn't hard enough, here's a kick in the face to make it all better.

The weight became heavier. It opened old wounds. Something inside of me died.

Anger welled up inside of me, stronger than it had in years. The word "anger" doesn't even begin to do justice to the wreaking hatred that infected everything inside of me. I was enraged with God, my girlfriend, myself, India, America, Oklahoma, and life.

I wrote a piece called "Eyes" while processing through some of these things. They read: The doubt of a Creator, and the anger towards a Savior drive me to the bottle that makes me wish I could save her.

I wanted to doubt God, but I couldn't. Something kept drawing me back to center saying that maybe God is the author of this. Maybe I'm supposed to go through this to grow up. Because I needed to grow up. I needed to quit being the child I refused to die to.

I made it to my house and had a surprisingly good night. I hung out with my brother and my cousin. We watched Bob's Burgers (my favorite cartoon), talked, laughed, and just had a good time. I spent the night forgetting. Most of the night, at least.

By 2:30 AM, my mind and I were the only two still awake. I began to cry again, so I went outside. I started to pray. My prayer started to get angry. I threw a chair across the yard and broke it. I yelled at God. I yelled at myself. I was backsliding into my old habits of self-harm that I battled for four years during high school.

To quote my prayer verbatim, I'll use the eerily similar line from The Lion King: You said you'd always be there for me! But you're not. It's because of me. It's my fault. It's my fault.

Feeling depressed, unworthy, and abandoned, I blamed it all on myself instead of trusting that God had a plan.

The rest of the night is a blur. At some point, which I don't remember, I made the decision to drink an impressive amount of alcohol. I remember that I couldn't really see anymore. The fact that I found my way to the bathroom was a miracle in itself.

At about 4:00 AM, my brother found me in the kitchen floor, slobbering drunk, playing my guitar and singing.

I remember a few of the conversations we had while I was throwing up, but even though I'm being honest with you guys, those conversations will remain in that bathroom for the rest of my life.

I passed out around 6:00 AM and woke up a few hours later, still drunk and incredibly hungover. I tried to call some friends to see if someone would hang out with me, but I couldn't get a hold of anybody. I didn't need to be alone in my house.

Early that afternoon, a couple of friends came by and picked me up. We went to their house, carved pumpkins, talked, laughed, and had a great time. Even though I was miserably sick, I had a great day.

To end it, The Lord punched me in the spiritual face and we watched The Lion King.

I so badly want to go into detail about how The Lord spoke to me that night, but my words will fall short. Instead, I'll have you watch the clip from The Lion King that God used to wreck my already broken world:

I had forgotten who I was in God, and in that, I had completely forgotten God.

"Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the from way I see it, you can either run from it, or... learn from it."

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Here we are, back in the opening scene.

Head pounding, mouth dry, throat tied in knots; a knot to hold back tears, but also a knot to hold back my own vomit. I hadn't slept a wink in three days, and I'd been wearing sunglasses for two of them just so the lights wouldn't be so bright. I was sick as a dog, especially since I had made it back to Oklahoma (no thanks to John Jameson).

"Did you have fun?!"

"Did you have an AMAZING trip?!"

"Do you think you'll ever go back?!"

All of these questions pounded into my ears like guilty cannons of disappointment, anger, heartbreak, and confusion. Friendly church-goers meant well with so much love, but every inquisition drove me closer and closer to the edge of spiritual, mental, and physical insanity. Everything I thought I knew about life, love, and spirituality had come to a screeching halt, yet at the same time it wouldn't stop moving at full speed ahead.

"How the hell did I end up here?" is all I could think. I was angry at God, angry at my friends, angry at the church, the world, myself, and my throbbing hangover.

The front row seat of the church's sanctuary felt colder than rock bottom. Staring bitterly into the eyes of an infinite God was horrifying. Right before the moment of breaking, four leaders in my church approached me in between services. Immediately after sitting down, this wonderful man of God, Justin, asked me a question.

"What's wrong, brother?"

Three words. I could only say three words before the wall I was building around myself came crashing to the ground.

"I need help."

And help is what I got.

For two weeks after that, I battled the thought of suicide for the first time in months. I smoked cigarettes like there was no tomorrow. I was incredibly bitter about everything. But the most important thing is, I didn't go about it alone.

One of the biggest misconceptions we have as Christians is that all we need is God. This is true to and extent. God is all we need for salvation. God is all we need for eternal life. God where we find our love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. But God is not all we need in this life. To say that is not only wrong, but a slap in God's face. We need people. God has blessed us with community, friends, brothers. Why would we ever take such a thing for granted?

The people in my life, the people in my church, showed me a beautiful picture of Christ-like love. When I opened up to them about everything, and I mean everything, they could have pushed me away. But that's not a Christian. That's a group of people claiming to walk in the steps of Jesus, but condemn the people who need Him most. They were Christians, because Christians are like Christ. They helped me through my depression and my anxiety. They helped me find a job. They found a new counselor for me. They reached out to me when I wouldn't reach out to them. They found a new place for me to live. They told me that I wasn't alone. They showed me that I wasn't alone. They helped me regain clarity in my identity. I am a son of God. They helped me realize that God is the author of all things, even the hard stuff. Not to hurt me in a malicious way, but so that I could become a better man. Just like Job went through horrific things, but came out of them as one of the most honorable men of God who ever lived.

In light of India, I think every Christian should experience missions overseas. I don't think it's a sin if you don't do it, by any means. But I think that your faith will be radically transformed if you do. I saw an incredible image of brotherhood while I was there, and it only continued when I came home.

The weight became lighter. Old wounds began to heal. Something inside of me came to life.

- Dylan Black

"Sometimes I tell myself not to think about you, Lord, or even mention your name. But your message burns in my heart and bones, and I cannot keep silent." (Jeremiah 20:9)

We're Like The Dog

Like I said when I started this blog, it would only be on occasion. So here we are again, seven months since my last post. I'd like to talk about something I am absolutely horrible at: being patient.

I just recently graduated high school, quit my job, and moved away from my hometown, all because I felt like it was time to move forward in life. It has been weird, different, refreshing, and pretty cool. I've been involved with a new church that I absolutely love, I've made new friends, learned new things, and done new things. But in the midst of all these shenanigans, my main priority has been to hear from God. As some of you probably know, I'm moving to India for three months in September. I need something to do until then. I need direction. It's great to find something good and productive to do with my life, but what's good and productive about it if God isn't the one leading me? I need to figure out what He wants me to do that will make Him bigger.

"He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less." - John 3:30 (NLT)

Honestly, it's frustrating praying for direction, because you don't know what to expect, when to expect, how to expect. After a while our stressed-out, cluttered prayers make us feel like nothing is happening, and we become impatient.

Well, I've got some news for you, my friends: Something is always happening. God is always working behind the curtain; we just have to wait on His timing.

He has been teaching me a lot about prayer lately; about coming before Him with all of my problems and praises. He's been teaching me to shut my freaking mouth once in a while and wait. He needs a chance to talk, too. We always initiate the conversation, but maybe He'd like to get the ball rolling once in a while. Just give Him some time and He will speak. I've been entering prayer with a different mindset now. I tend to start talking, and then immediately feel a big "not yet, kid." and shut my mouth until He says it's time.

"As you enter the house of God, keep your ears open and your mouth shut. It is evil to make mindless offerings to God. Don’t make rash promises, and don’t be hasty in bringing matters before God. After all, God is in heaven, and you are here on earth. So let your words be few. Too much activity gives you restless dreams; too many words make you a fool." - Ecclesiastes 5:1-3 (NLT)

Wait on God and He will speak. He gives me direction, little by little. Some good ol' walking by faith and not by sight never hurt anybody too bad.

Think of it like training a dog. You're the dog and God is the trainer. The trainer tells the dog to sit and stay, and at first the the dog doesn't want to. I mean, just waiting on nothing doesn't make sense, right? Then the trainer pulls out a Scooby-snack and holds it up high. Now the dog sees that there's a greater reason to sit still and wait. After the trainer decides that the dog has finished his instruction and waited until it's ready, he tells the dog to "get it!" and there is much rejoicing. See where I'm going with this? When God says to wait, we may not understand it at the time and it may seem a bit unnecessary, but He understands that there's a greater purpose. If the trainer just let the dog eat Scooby-snacks whenever it wanted, it wouldn't understand discipline or patience. If God gives us what He has in store whenever we ask for it, we won't be prepared. God has us endure patience for a reason. He has us endure patience to train us for something greater. So be like the dog. Sit still and wait and know that God has something greater for you. When He has you doing something that doesn't make sense, just rest in the knowledge that He has something great in store for all of His children.

"And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose for them." - Romans 8:28 (NLT)

Pray with intention to listen, and once you've heard, go with intention to do.

Here's one of my favorite clips from a film that greatly illustrates what I'm talking about (just replace the words "kung fu" with "God":

Go Big, Then Go Home

Here we are... 366 days have gone by, and everything is different now. 2012 was the biggest year of my life thus far. I made a lot of bad choices, but I also made a lot of good choices.

Up until May, I wasn't walking with God anymore. Right before the summer, Jesus broke down the walls I had built up inside, and radically changed my life.

In July, He called me to be a missionary before I go to college.

In August, He called me to make the hardest decision I've ever made. Letting go of your own life to live for God is painful.

In September, He opened the door for me to go to India as a missionary for 6 months in the fall of 2013.

In October, He gave me the opportunity to record my second studio EP.

In November, He confirmed to me that music is what He has made me to do. He also began to bless me with spiritual gifts I never thought I would or could have.

In December, He kept filling me with His overwhelming joy, peace, and wisdom.

In 2012, God did. He kept pushing, even when I walked away. He didn't relent until He had it all. He found a kid who was so far off the path, and had no hope, and went big. He didn't just do a little. He did a lot. He changed lives. He saved lives. He came through. He never gave up. He was faithful. He was patient. He was good. My oh my, He was good.

Over this year, I have learned thousands and thousands of lessons, but the biggest one of all is to go do. No matter the calling, go do. I never wanted to be a missionary. The thought of it scared me. But when you are willing to follow any calling He puts in your heart, and do it, the outcome will be incredible.

Now my challenge to all of you is to do something even more in 2013. Go big.

God has called us to do everything to the best of our abilities. Give your all this year. That's what worship is. Giving everything. Going big.

How do you start? Go. Once you go, God will guide you. At that point, it's up to you whether or not you do it, and do it big.

2013 is the beginning of something new, and the end of something old. 2013 is a white canvas God has placed in front of you, and He's handing you a brush. 2013 is a chance to shine so brightly for the Lord that people don't even see you anymore, but all they see is the light. 2013 is the year to heal. 2013 is the year to make a fresh start. 2013 is the year to keep pressing forward. It is the year to go, to do, to worship, to give, to be, to rise, to love, and to live.

This world is not our home. Our home is in the Kingdom of God. Our time is short, and 2013 is only 365 days. We don't know how many days God has given us, so don't let a single one of them pass you by. Give all that you have here, because one day this will all be gone. You have to be the change you want to see in the world.

Go big.

"Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." -Philippians 3:13-14

"Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary."

Forcefully Advancing

Hey, everybody! I wanted to start a new blog that I can occasionally post in, and talk about what is going on in my life, and what the Lord is teaching me. First off, I want to explain the name of the blog, "A Branch".

In John 15:5-8, Jesus says, "Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing. Anyone who does not remain in me is thrown away like a useless branch and withers. Such branches are gathered into a pile to be burned. But if you remain in me and my words remain in you, you may ask for anything you want, and it will be granted! When you produce much fruit, you are my true disciples. This brings great glory to my Father."

Now that you've read that, I don't have much explaining to do. As a follower of Christ, the Lord is our source of life. He is our Vine, and we are His branches; reaching out to do His work.

I, Dylan Black, am one of many branches. The Church, every other follower besides me, is a branch. We work together, as brothers and sisters, to spread the love of God to every person we meet.

Branches. That's what we are.

What I want to talk about in this blog is something simple, yet so powerful, that the Lord showed me recently.

In Matthew 11, Jesus has just finished sending out the twelve apostles when He gets word of John the Baptist's imprisonment. John sees that Jesus is doing nothing to bust him out of prison, and doubt begins to creep in. John sends his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the Messiah we've been expecting, or should we keep looking for someone else?” I feel like Jesus probably sighed for a second. But, then He replies with, “Go back to John and tell him what you have heard and seen— the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is being preached to the poor. And tell him, ‘God blesses those who do not turn away because of me.’”

I'm sure that wasn't the comforting reply that John had hoped for. He already knew all of the stuff that Jesus just said. He probably wanted Him to say something more along the lines of, "Yeah, man. I'm your guy. I'll get you out in a couple of days." But, that isn't what Jesus wanted to tell him. I think that Erwin McManus sums up what Jesus was saying perfectly in his book, The Barbarian Way:

"Jesus was saying to him, 'John, I'm not coming through for you. I'm not getting you out of prison. I'm not sparing your life. Yes, I have done all this and more for others, but the path I choose for you is different from theirs. You'll be blessed, John, if this does not cause you to fall away.'"

Sometimes the Lord has a plan for you that you don't expect. You think life sucks, and you start whining about your misfortune when everybody else has it "easy". But, really, the Lord has a plan. And if you keep pressing forward, even when it hurts, you will be amazed at the radical things the Lord will do in, and through, you.

Later on in Matthew 11, Jesus is speaking to a crowd about John the Baptist. After talking about how plain awesome he is, He says, "And from the time John the Baptist began preaching until now, the Kingdom of Heaven has been forcefully advancing, and violent people are attacking it."

Man... I thought that was awesome!

Forcefully advancing.

Guys, it's the truth that we all get lazy sometimes. We have jobs, school, families, etc., and things get so busy that we quit focusing on the Lord. It's understandable. But this verse says perfectly how we need to live our lives. This wasn't some Average Joe talking about John. This was Jesus saying that, because of him, "the Kingdom of Heaven has been forcefully advancing".

It is our purpose in life to be disciples of Jesus; His branches. Our purpose is to reach out to the world, live in the way that Jesus did, and forcefully advance the Kingdom of Heaven with every step we take.

That verse says that "violent people are attacking it". The Kingdom of God is under attack by the Devil and the world, and we are being called to march into battle. We are being called to advance the Kingdom of Heaven, no matter the cost, and no matter the pain.

Walk in the Lord's steps, and He will lead you where you were made to be.

Have a good day!

- Dylan Black