I'm a simple man; I'm easy to please. And there are certain things I will always get excited about: someone becoming a Christian; the Cincinnati Reds winning a game; any event in which my quasi-insane dog Griffey acts like a normal pooch. I'm predictable and comfortable and not big on trying new things. And frankly, I feel good about this.

Movies are no different, as there are certain elements I will be excited for: Swords. Guns. Aliens. Zombies. Attractive women. Anything having to do with a Post-Apocalyptic landscape. Will Ferrell. Honestly, if Will Ferrell made a movie about fighting alien-zombies with swords and guns with an attractive girl by his side, my head may explode from the sheer amount of awesome.

All of this leads to this weekend, when the sure to be epically awesome Cowboys VS Aliens is released. Sure, the critics won't like it, but I knew from the moment I watched the trailer that I'd love it. It has Han Solo and James Bond as cowboys who fight aliens. Plus, the hot chick from Tron is prominently involved. I literally can't fathom not loving this movie.

You can imagine, then, that while I was at a buddy's house last night and saw a promo for the film on the History Channel, I couldn't look away. As it turned out, though, it wasn't just a sneak peak at the movie, but instead, was a full-fledged show about aliens in the old West. Seriously. The show was called Ancient Aliens, and in it, experts speculated and presented evidence that not only are aliens real, but they shaped our American landscape. They talked about phenomena like the Aurora Crash and the Serpent Mound, and they theorized that our alien friends could explain everything from the purpose of the moon to human evolution to the existence of life on this planet. It was crazy, even ridiculous stuff. But more than anything it sparked a question in my mind:

How is this not more far-fetched than believing in God?

Now, don't get me wrong - I have no problem with the idea that God didn't stop at our planet when He created life. To dogmatically assume such a thing would exhibit the highest of arrogance, and ignore the vastness of both the universe and the biblical picture of our Creator. But while we're postulating and formulating theories on our alien ancestors, we do so with little to no physical, objective evidence. There are stories and here-say from fanatics, and there are assumptions, hypotheses, and guesses from 'experts' and 'scholars.' In other words, people - intelligent, reasonable people - legitimately believe in the existence of alien life.

And yet, when the same type of 'evidence' is given for the existence of God, intelligent, reasonable Christians are laughed at. Why? To believe in God takes trusting in something you cannot see, and to believe that what you cannot see brings value to your world. That's part of the deal when it comes to religion and faith; we're basing potentially eternity shaping viewpoints on something we can't prove... just like those who believe in aliens. 

The point is this: whether or not a person believes in God or aliens or nothing at all, each and every one of us, at one time or another deals with the question of whether or not we're alone. We all make a decision about what we believe about life and existence in this world and beyond, and to do so is a universal human endeavor. Of course, if you believe in Jesus, the reason is obvious: not only are God's attributes painfully obvious from what He has created, but His concepts of right and wrong are engrained in each one of us.

No matter what, though, we ALL have to make a decision about what we believe about the universe around us. And the choices we make will change how we see this world, this life, and if those of us with faith are correct, the next ones. At the end of the day, we're all searching for something, and if we search hard enough, we'll find the truth.

And frankly, I'm excited about that truth. But that shouldn't be surprising; after all, I'm a simple man. 

There are two great lies that I've heard: The day you eat of the fruit of that tree, you will not surely die; and that Jesus Christ was a white, middle class Republican, and if you want to be saved you have to learn to be like him. - Derek Webb, 'A King and a Kingdom'

I just wanted to use the restroom. Luckily, there was a sign telling me where to go.

Stephanie and I were killing time before attending an Anaheim Angels game during our vacation a couple weeks ago when we went to Los Angeles' biggest outlet mall. It was a monstrosity of discount cologne, cheap shoes, and last season's fashions, and as usual, I was wishing I could be anywhere but where I was. Frankly, I hate shopping and don't know why it has to be complicated: if I didn't need something before I went into the store, there's no reason for me to need something once I leave the store. Therefore, there's zero need for me to see what's available or on sale, since I don't need whatever it is. Sadly, Stephanie doesn't agree, and therefore, there we were. It wasn't long, though, until I had to use the restroom, and so I went off in search of a place to relieve myself.

Now, this is normally the part of the story where I recount something embarrassing or ironically difficult. This time, though, it was easy. There was a massive sign telling me where the restroom was, and I very quickly and conveniently did my business. The sign, however, we fascinating in a way that I'd never seen in Indiana or Missouri. It didn't just say 'restroom' on it; it said 'restroom' in at least four and maybe as many as six languages (frankly, Asian languages are difficult to tell apart, and there were lots of symbols. I'm not sure how many languages were actually represented).

Now, this shouldn't be surprising, as Southern California is filled with different cultures and languages and people groups. There was even a moment at Universal Studios when we were waiting to get into the Terminator 2 ride when I realized that there were three white people in the building: my wife, myself, and the worker. That's it; everyone else was either African-American or Latino or Asian or Indian or God knows what. It was strange, but it also felt good. In a world where people who root for different baseball teams can barely get along for fifteen minutes at a time, seeing different cultures and people groups co-existing in one place was really cool.

While I was in the bathroom (which, by the way, was much nicer than I expected it to be), I had a strange thought: this is what using the bathroom in the Kingdom of God will be like one day (assuming, of course, that we still do such a thing). In the final New Testament book, the apostle John received a vision of heaven, and in that vision, he recorded,

After this I saw a vast crowd, too great to count, from every nation and tribe and people and language, standing in front of the throne and before the Lamb. They were clothed in white robes and held palm branches in their hands. And they were shouting with a mighty shout, 'Salvation comes from our God who sits on the throne and from the Lamb!' - Revelation 7:9-10

A crowd too great to count from every type of people who have ever lived - THAT is God's kingdom. Americans and Romans and Mayans and Africans and Australians and Mexicans and Canadians; Democrats and Republicans and people who never voted; preachers and prophets saints and junkies and thieves and rapists; people with tattoos and piercings and people who like Harry Potter and people who think that everyone who has a tattoo has Hepatitis and that Harry Potter is the devil; people who are difficult to work with and people with whom working seems like play; white people and brown people and yellow people; people who lived long, illustrious lives and people whose lives were tragically cut short; people who worship with instruments and people who sing a capella and people who speak in tongues and people who chant a liturgy and people who wear robes and people who don't wear clothes at all; all kinds of people.

The point is this: God is bigger than you or your view of Him. He doesn't fit into your box and His kingdom is greater than you can imagine. He transcends culture and society, prejudice and preconceived notions. He's for everybody - even those you despise.

So, if you're excited to one day enjoy God's presence in heaven, remember one thing: if there are people you spend your days on earth trying to avoid, they'll probably be there too, and if you can't love your neighbor, you may not have much fun next to him in eternity. And there's one more thing you can be assured of:

It'll be one heck of a sign for the bathroom.

It was definitely the best ten minutes of my vacation in California. Heck, it might have been the best ten minutes of my LIFE. But when it was all said and done, I ended up in a place I never expected:

Projectile vomiting in the Pacific Ocean.

When my wife planned our annual trek to Southern California, there was one place she wanted to go more than anywhere else: Catalina Island. I didn't mind; after all, an island sounded cool for a couple days, and it gave me several months to joke about how I needed to rent 80 helicopters to make bank at the Catalina Wine Mixer, so I was happy. And when we got to the island, it was basically what you'd expect: high prices, lots of rich people, and little to no signs of outside civilization. It was beautiful, to be sure, and it was certainly worth experiencing once, but there was one thing that made the trip go from, 'kind of cool because I can make jokes about Stepbrothers' to 'a visit I'll remember forever': snorkeling.

I'd never been snorkeling before, so I wasn't sure what to expect, especially after the twenty minute ordeal of attempting to pull a wetsuit onto my apparently more overweight than I'd previously thought body. And it didn't get any easier when I first got in the ocean and realized that waves feel much more violent than they look. Eventually, though, Stephanie and I got the hang of it, and it was amazing. The ocean was simply indescribable, and there are few things more peaceful and romantic than swimming hand in hand with my best friend. For about ten minutes, it was absolute bliss.

And it all ended when a high wave washed over me, sending what felt like ten gallons of salt water into my lungs. At that point, the contents of my stomach vacated the premises and began a long, and I'm sure fascinating journey towards Maui. I then allowed myself to be washed ashore like a beached whale, and my snorkeling adventure was officially over.

Life is a lot like my snorkeling - great moments book-ended by uneasiness and awfulness. This is true whether you're in the Midwest or on the coast, young or old, religious or not. For every phenomenal moment you experience, there will be a handful of frustrations and aggravations, if you're lucky, and tragedy if you're not.

Jesus understood this, and it's this truth that's at the heart of His parable of farmer. He described a man who spread seed all throughout a field, and there were four results. Some seed was eaten by birds before it could go in the ground, and some seed never grew because the soil was too rocky. Still other seed grew at first, but was soon choked out by thorns and thistles. Just a small portion of the seed did what it was supposed to - produce a crop.

The point is simple: not everyone will respond to God the way we, or more appropriately, He, wants. Some people will never listen, and for some people, their hearts are so hard that they'll listen, but when they do, they'll immediately reject it. The third group of people is perhaps the most frightening: there are some who will respond to God, flourish, and then, as Jesus put it, will fall away from their faith as soon as the problems of the world happen. What's so frightening about this third group of people is that it could be all of us, no matter how strongly we believe in God; after all, no one is exempt from the ugliness of this world, and we're all just a few decisions away from turning our backs on what we've chosen.

The good news, though, is this: life is marathon, not a sprint, and as long as there is breath in our lungs, we have a chance to get up and try again. My mistake at Catalina wasn't that I swallowed enough salt water to house a school of dolphins; my mistake was giving up once my stomach sent a present to the Hawaiian Islands. I didn't have to give up, but I did.

You may be facing something today that's testing who you are. In fact, chances are great that you are. Don't give up. Hang in there, and understand that the fourth type of seed (or, if you prefer, fourth group of people) can be each and every one of us, as each and every one of us, by God's grace, can choose the path that leads to eternal life. That path can be mine; that path can be yours. All we need to remember is one thing:

No matter how bad things get, you keep swimming. No. Matter. What. 

There are burgers. And then, there are BURGERS.

Human beings in America can't seem agree on anything. But one thing that seemingly everyone agrees on is that cheeseburgers are amazing. It doesn't matter if you're getting them from McDonald's or Burger King or Wendy's or grilling them yourself; a cheeseburger, like pizza and that thing we're not allowed to mention at church without running off half the congregation, is never terrible. Even when it's 'bad,' it's still pretty good. Heck, even vegetarians love those imitation burgers made of veggies, soybeans and sawdust. But the truth is, while every burger is good, there are few things in this world more satisfying than a good cheeseburger.

Thank Jesus, then, that Columbia now has not one, but two Five Guys Burger joints.

Five Guys has it all - top quality beef, real cheese, and toppings galore. Want your burger to have tomatoes, jalapenos, pickles and A-1 sauce? Done. And, by the way, you've made my favorite burger. Want it to have lettuce and mushrooms and barbecue sauce? Fine. Just know that you can't give it my wife, or the mushrooms will kill her. Want to make your burger like everyone else's, with ketchup and lettuce and tomatoes and onions? No problem. And it'll be better than burger you can get outside of the state of California. In other words, Five Guys is not just a burger; it's a BURGER.

In the same vein, there's religion, and then, there's RELIGION.

If Wikipedia is to believed (and really, when has it steered us wrong?), some 76% of people in America claim to follow Christianity. And that's great. But you know what's not so great? According to a separate poll, only 9% of people say that their faith is the most important part of their lives. And that's not so great.

This type of religious 'devotion' is completely foreign to what Jesus taught following Him was all about. As He said, if faith in Him isn't more important than anything else - even things that we all value, like family - then we may as not ever start to follow Him. And His disciples understood this radical faith - Paul described Christianity as 'dying' to your old life on more than one occasion; Peter wrote that suffering was part and parcel to Jesus being the Lord of your life; James said, bluntly, that faith without self-sacrifice is 'worthless.'

I guess, then, too, that there's being a 'Christian,' and there's being a CHRISTIAN.

It's obvious, then, that many of those who believe in Jesus have not committed to the transforming, life-changing path that He has laid out before those who wanted to follow Him. And while that's as normal as people eating at McDonald's and Burger King, the truth is, we'd all be a lot better off if we just ate Five Guys. If our faith more reflected big-letter religion and Christianity, then not only would there be a much smaller gap between those who believe and those who have faith as the priority of their lives, but I'd imagine many of our worldly problems would be dwarfed by our efforts to advance the Kingdom of God.

At the end of the day, we all eat cheeseburgers; we can have a burger, or we can have a BURGER. And for those of us who believe in Jesus, we can have a religion that doesn't matter, or we can have a religion that does. Just remember one thing:

Some meals satisfy a lot more than others.