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I’m on a plane from Phoenix to Chicago to Philadelphia. Once in Philly, I’ll be driven to New Jersey. That’s four cities and states in one day.

This past weekend I watched my friends put on a show as jugglers. They’ve been performing for ten years now, so they’ve become quite good. My friend can juggle six pins at once, but only because he dared throw another pin up in the air.

Last week Candyce’s dad dared me to be bold. He told me it was time for me to invest in more real estate.; He’s a real wiz at this thing, and he’s never given me bad advice. I explained that I was too busy traveling and with work, and that I wanted to take care of things one-at-a-time. He put it bluntly, “Who says you can’t do more? You’d be surprises how much you can juggle.”

I take pride in being bold while still making good decisions.; Everyone talks about trying out for a reality show, but how many actually do? I did it, and here I am, two shows later. While on those shows, I was bold and stuck to my guns and inspired a lot of viewers. Because I save money, invest wisely, and don’t buy into a lifestyle, I’m doing pretty well for myself. Because I’m saving sex for marriage, I am investing in a; passionate, life-long relationship.

My life has become too comfortable. I am ready to be bold, again. So for the first couple hours on this flight, I’ve been crunching numbers to see how I can pull off a new adventure. It starts to get scary when you look at the bottom line. That fear is what keeps most people drowning in mediocrity.

The world belongs to those who make it happen.

I am on an airplane from Cleveland to Phoenix, and I just watched a very powerful movie called “Man on Fire” with Denzel Washington. It’s a story of a former government operative who has pretty much given up on life. He reluctantly takes a job in Mexico City to protect a child whose parents are threatened by a wave of kidnappings. When she is abducted while under his watch, he unleashes a fiery rage on all those who are responsible.

For the first half of the movie he’s haunted by the evil that he committed in his past life. His heart is transformed by the faith and love of this child. He did whatever it took to get her back, even if it meant snuffing more lives. It was a sad story of a man wrestling with his decisions and the fate of his soul.

:::

I did a talk last night at Steubenville East in Attleboro, Massachusetts. Normally I fly in, give a talk, and fly back the next day. But Steubenville conferences span over three days, and I am expected to be there for the whole thing. There were 2800 teenagers there, so it was draining.

This morning I lead a session where the guys get together to talk about how to become Men of God. It’s a big responsibility to lead that session, because you have less than an hour to instill in them a sense of responsibility for the world around them.

To get the guys talking, I always ask them what their favorite movies are, and what they admire about characters in the movie. The favorites are Gladiator, Braveheart, The Last Samuri, The Godfather, and The Passion. Everytime a kid names a new movie, the 1500 guys roar and clap. One movie I’ve heard more and more is “The Boondock Saints.” Each time, the room went CRAZY. I hadn’t seen the movie, so I asked why. “Well they are Catholic and God gives them messages of things they have to do. They go out there and kick ass and do whatever the hell they want to. They aren’t afraid.” The tent roared again.

The theme for this years conferences is, “Rise Up, a Catholic Revolution.” When I think of revolution, I think of violence, fury, passion, and dedication. I see passionate messages scribbled on walls. A revolution is dangerous and can’t be tamed.

But everything I saw at this conference was tame. Manicured youth groups showed up wearing bright matching T-shirts. The theme song was soft and sing-songy like an overgrown nursery rhyme. It was so…mothered and protected.

I don’t know the formula for a revolution. I know it doesn’t have to be run by brutes or won with violence. Jesus was a revolutionary, and he wasn’t brutish or violent. I don’t know. I don’t have the answer.

Last night after I flew into Phoenix,; I drove up to the studio to catch up on some work. It’s pretty spooky to go to the studio at midnight. The studio is on the site of the old Phoenix Botanical Gardens, so there is lots of dark open spaces covered with cactus that look like monsters.

After two hours of rapid-fire work, I took the lonely drive back to my house. Not even the radio DJs are up that late. My mailbox was layered with mail from the past week. I loaded it into my arms like I was carrying in firewood. I dumped my suitcase on the garage floor and lifted my clothes into the washing machine. I stepped inside to open mail and pay bills.

My house has become unfamiliar. In the summers, it’s a base-camp more than it is a home. It’s where I go to prepare for my next expedition.;;; Most people are always making their way back to their home where everything is familiar and comfortable. I don’t have that. Home is where the plane lands.

I’ve been traveling at this intensity for four years. Fame is passing, so I need to do what I can when I can. I was raised in rural Georgia where people lived deliberately slow lives. But I’ve forgotten what it is like to live a life without ever-present urgency. I’m trying to be like Peter Parker, a normal guy who is trying to make the world better. It’s not always comfortable to be Spiderman.

So now I’m at 15,000 feet listening to John Mayer:

“Someday a fly, some days I soar. Someday I’m big, someday I’m much more. Because I’m bigger than my body gives me credit for.”

8:00 PM
I am sitting in the San Diego airport and I have to sort out my feelings. I don’t feel like I should at the end of a vacation with my girlfriend. We haven’t seen each other in over a month, and after a four-day reunion, I don’t feel like I’ve seen her at all.

It was a crazy week with guests, neighbors, and random people storming through the house every day. Twice they hosted dinner for over 25 people.; At first I was happy to assume my responsibility to bring the chaos to order. Candyce was cheerful and graceful, able to keep almost everyone happy.

We weaved through the crowds making a good time even better. But after three days of this, I felt like I wanted everyone to leave so I could just be with Candyce. Or maybe she and I should just leave? What bothered me is I don’t think Candyce felt the same way. She just kept on doing her thing.

Maybe that’s just how it goes: a loving and given person will always love and give. But why am I last in line? I am left angry, frustrated, and misunderstood.

I have no desire to stay here in San Diego. I have no desire to hop on this plane and fly back to Phoenix for the night. I have no desire to go to Boston tomorrow. I am just sitting here in a chair at another airport, one the hundreds of lonely people with no place to go.

I don’t remember how we wrecked the jetski. I just felt James’s head cracking against my brow as we vaulted off the jetski and I rolled into the water. I felt a surge of pain through my whole skull. I knew something was wrong.James and I floated to the top and gasped for air. He blurted out a desperate apology as he spun around to see if I was okay. “Dude you cut yourself and you’re bleeding!” I dabbed my forehead and my hand was covered with blood.

Maybe I’ve watched too many cartoons, but blood floating in water brings in the sharks. So he and I quickly pulled ourselves up on the jetski and skooted out of the lagoon.

I learned in Boy Scouts that you have to stay calm. I walked out of the water onto the beach and the girls freaked out. I played it cool because that’s what you’re supposed to do in a situation like that. Our friend Dr. Philips was with us, and he told me I should get stitches. I decided to walk it off. The funny part was that my head did hurt, but what really messed me up was all of the saltwater I swallowed as I spun into the water.

Now I’m at the house, and everyone is giving me a lot of attention, like I’m a war hero or something.