Mayan I’m crazy too

The world may end in just over nine hours.

You’ve obviously decided to read on regardless. I must say, I’m surprised. I’d call my writing entertaining at times and possibly even enlightening but never would I suggest my writing to be the last thing on earth I read!

Each key stroke should be urgent, they could very well be amongst my last actions of this earth. But alas, my fingers move effortlessly across the keyboard … without a worry in the world.

Thousands of people are flocking to ancient Mayan sites around the globe, paying tribute to their God’s in anticipation of the end of the world.

I repeat, the end of the world may only now, be hours away.

Again, you’ve chosen to read on. And again I’m surprised, maybe you’re just as crazy as I am!

Not only are those flocking to Mayan sites worshipping their God’s, for some reason, they are expecting contact from aliens.

There’s even been rumours of a spaceship coming to pick up those chosen to survive the apocalypse! Get this though, you’d assume the aliens would be interested in the smartest  strongest or most healthy humans … no, it’s a first in best dressed scenario, crazy right!?

Do people really think some sort of alien life form will appear from the clouds taking on board the people they met forming a group to re populate a new world post apocalypse?

mayan169-408x264They line the shoreline in Byron Bay, hands wide and lifted up … ready to welcome visitors from out of space. This scene will be repeated all round the globe in the coming hours and, as the time of predicted apocalypse draws near, their passion will increase.

If you’re anything like me, your first thought would have been … what a bunch of crazy’s!

Surely, any sane person would reject the teachings of the Mayans and be looking past the 21st of December, by 4 days anyway. It is then they’ll celebrate the birth of their King.

Born of a virgin mother and lived a perfect servant life, only to be killed by those he was meant to lead. This king didn’t fight his death, but welcomed it as a price to save a broken world.

Their king, (aka Jesus) rose from the dead and ascended to heaven to be with his father who sent his spirit to live in us all. One day he will return and once again, bring judgement to this world. Until then, billions of people (including myself) follow his teachings to the best of their ability… the passion of those people, just like the Mayan worshippers is building to a crescendo.


Come December 25, churches will be filled with believers joined by folk looking for a hit of Jesus joy or a stamp on their get out of jail free card!

Who’s the crazy one now!?

That’s the thing about faith. It’s belief in what you cannot see. It’s crazy and beyond all explanation … yet amazingly life altering. It’s a force more powerful than any other and one, I am not willing to let go of.

I believe a man was born of a virgin mother and died to save this world. I know it’s crazy that he rose from the dead … but he is the man, who’s life I seek to model.

Meanwhile, the twitterverse, known for it’s craziness is filled with #endoftheworldconfessions including “I let the dogs out” and I “pooped my pants in high school”.



Between vulcan squats and vomiting

It was somewhere between vulcan squats and throwing that I realised I had it all wrong. It was Tuesday, the first day back at work after a long weekend and, the first day back at gym after a week off.

Let me interrupt my own post for a second, this is a change of pace from my previous post. My previous posts have been about the rest of the world, this one is about me. Previously I’ve tried to find sense in others, today I discuss my severe lack of sense.

The week off had taken it’s toll, my arms hung loosely from the shoulders, the ache already set in, and despite my feet being firmly planted on the ground head spins caused me to stumble.

There I was. A twenty nine year old man, husband and father, swaying in front of the mirror.

I typically add Christian to this list but in my dazed state, I was questioning. Do I actually believe?

I’d had a week off gym and been planning for this day. I’d committed to not only a heavy gym routine but a new diet. I was keen to start, so much so, my wife is surely sick of hearing about it. In contrast, I haven’t prayed in over 3 weeks.

My mind drifts back to Sunday, I’m singing the words “here I am to worship” while proudly declaring “How great is our god”. Fast forward 48 hours and I’m standing in front of the gym mirror doubting the extent of  my faith.

A drink of water, I stupidly thought, that’s what I need. Let’s douse these silly thoughts…Hydrated, yet not satisfied; still ultimately confused.

I pay money to come here to exercise, I spend 4 hours a week here. I show up daily in my lunch break  I change, sweat, shower and rush back to my desk. I’ve researched workout routines and treat muscles aches as a sign things must be working.

I think, talk or act exercise each and every day. But speak to Jesus, my saviour in a very sporadic way.

There was nothing spiritual about my sudden urge to get to bathroom, or was there…it’s Jesus who begs us to rid ourselves of our old ways.

For anyone that has ever vomited you’d understand the empty feeling but mine was definitely more than just physical. I had a whole that only he could fill but I needed to ask him. Jesus won’t fix all your problems unless you want him to.

For the first time in weeks I prayed. Thanking him for my life cleansed me more than any post workout shower ever will.

Its Friday afternoon now as I write this post, I’ve completed this weeks four gym visits and my diet hasn’t slipped. Jesus and I talk daily and I enjoy every little bit

I was working out more often than praying, it’s no wonder I felt sick and was heavily swaying.