***For the record, after watching my own video, I’d like to point out that my brother and his wife have a marriage that anyone would envy, and they are more in love today than the day before and the day before that, etc… I was simply using an example, and I realize that the way I worded things seemed ambiguous.

It was late and the television was muted.  The only sounds on this late Spring evening was the hum of a central cooling system and the sporadic clicks of a couple of iPhones.

My friend had dropped by to borrow a DVD, but deep conversation was always shifted storyline when the two of us got together.  My roommate had returned home from working late, and had walked in on a stimulating conversation, as only we know how.

“There is no such thing as unconditional love.”

My friend and roommate sat there, stunned that a person who had been raised in like fashion and firmly maintained all of the truths that we had all been taught would say something as heretical as this.

“You’re kidding, right?” one of them asked.

“Not at all.  Okay, before I explain myself, God doesn’t count.”

The room breathed  collective sigh of relief, now assured that their friend had not turned apostate overnight.

“We all know God is love, and His love is unconditional.  I’m talking about how we love, as people.”

After this statement, my roommate and friend attempted to come up with several scenarios that depicted one’s love as having no limitation, no selfishness, and no hope of a return.

“If your husband cheated on you, could you get past it?”

My friend chose her words carefully, but came to the conclusion that if he was truly repentant and showed her evidence that God had changed him from that behavioral blip, then yes, she could “take him back.”  (Conditions, mind you.)

“Okay.  But what if he cheated on you several times?”

That further exploration rendered her speechless.

She could not take him back.  Thus, her love, as much as she will love her future husband one day, would have an underlying condition for that love to continue.

We continued to explore my assertion, each time letting the arrow of rational thinking and circumstances bring down any potential flaw in my statement.

“How do we know that subconsciously, we have done something, anything, in the name of unconditional love that didn’t have something, anything, in it for us, too?  How can we be sure that any outwardly seeming selfless act wasn’t something that motivated us on a deeper level for personal gain, whether it be tangible or not.

My friends thought me to be enjoying my devil’s advocate role, but I merely wanted to point out the fact that we are imperfect and we cannot love perfectly.  It had turned into a mild argument, my two friends still not convinced that I was right, even with the evidence overwhelmingly in my favor.

Two days later.

I was standing in the middle of a drug store, perusing the many examples of “greeting card love” that is responsible for millions of smiles and postage stamps.  Looking for the perfect sentiment for the upcoming holiday, it hit me.

My mom.

How could we have not thought of this before?  The person that we all have an innate bond with, the person that produced us physically, emotionally, and (hopefully) spiritually.

My mom.

She was, is, and will always be an example of perfectly unconditional love.  I am wholly convinced that no matter the words that I could utter, or the actions that I could perform, she would love me the same yesterday, today, and forever.

My mom.

A woman who wrapped me in a yellow blanket when I could fit in her lap and rocked me to sleep as only she could.  A woman who treated my skinned-knee as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world at that moment.  A woman who tutored me relentlessly in my most difficult school subjects, turning every problem into a sports analogy so I could better understand.  A woman who was heartbroken when she found out that I did anything behind her back, disappointed because of the man she knew I could, would, and should become.  A woman who allowed me to make my own decisions into adulthood, even when she knew that they were the wrong ones, only to use them as a teaching tool after the fact.  A woman who shook her head when I came home with piercings or tattoos in my twenties, but hugged my neck and told me how good-looking I was, regardless.  A woman who constantly belabored the point that she was praying for my future wife just as much as she was praying for me.  A woman who listens to me as a man, more my best friend than my mother these days, knowing that the way she has trained me up will not fail.

My mom.

The good in me is her doing, and the bad is of my own volition.

And, as much as I hated to be wrong, I knew that I would have to alert my friend and roommate that I had found a fairly obvious example  that put my argument to shame. Oh well, can’t win ‘em all, I guess.

And this argument was one that I was overjoyed to have lost.

A loss that made this past Mother’s Day a little sweeter.

You think about that…

>>>His mind wandered back into that audition room on Music Row, sitting in a metal folding chair, waiting for his name to be called by a casting assistant.  He had done these cold reads a million times before and had always been nervous, so why was he so calm and collected on this particular call?  He was focused, his relaxed gaze confirming what everyone else in the same holding room knew to be true. This was B’s part to lose.  And He could feel it.

His name was called and he rose to his feet.  His intensity had been channeled, allowing him to put a majestic effort into this opportunity.  As he entered the room, he noticed a beautiful, young blonde seated behind an eggshell-colored parsons desk with two other important-looking people.

It was Kassidi Quinn.

He was taken aback for a split second, before adjusting his focus and remembering why he was here in the first place.

He would be her equal, her partner, and her friend, even, soon enough.

But, he had to perform, first.  And this was B’s specialty.  While his friends and family saw his goofball persona more often than not, he knew in his heart that he was an accomplished talent, waiting on his chance to arrive.

He watched as Kassidi moved from around the desk, grasping a “side” and walking toward him.  His eyes locked with hers as he extended a hand in her direction.  She shook it slowly, then handed him a copy of his script as they inched closer toward one another.

The casting director was mesmerized, even making a clichéd comment about the immediate physical tension between the two young thespians.

B and Kassidi began the scene, in which Kassidi’s character had just left her father’s ponderosa in Oklahoma to begin an adventure in uncharted territory (modern-day New Mexico).  Toward the close of the scene, B’s character leaned in to give the country singer a tender ki–.

Suddenly, a ScoreCenter update on his phone jolted B back into reality.  Now, in this moment, he should have been much happier than he had been in a long time, but he wasn’t.  It was a vivid memory that should have excited B about his imminent future.<<<

We’re getting closer, friends.

You think about that…

I ♥ boy bands.

There, I said it.  Now, you say it, too.

Good.

Now, doesn’t that feel better?

Our culture has long been intrigued fascinated obsessed with the phenomenon of a group of teenage hunks, moves choreographed, and harmonies blended, all mixed together to construct the perfect pop act. Most of our culture, I should say.  There has never been a more polarizing entity in all of entertainment than the enigma of the boy band.

“A real band needs to play instruments,” critics say.

“Their music is all about image and not about skill,” other detractors voice.

Still, whether or not you are a fan (you are), one cannot deny the ability, nay, the talent it requires to be in a boy band.

Singing.  Dancing.  Frosted tips.

It’s the perfect storm of entertainment.

And we were lucky enough to have witnessed the apex of the era, the 90′s.  But, and this is a heavenly “but,”  it looks as if the boy band has been resurrected as of late.  With the onset of British sensation, One Direction, there’s a glorious chance that we may live to see another rebirth of this gift.  So, without hesitation or fear of persecution, I give you the reasons why boy bands rule!  (But, you probably already think that.)

Attire – Frankly, I was (and still am) sick and tired of seeing huge musical acts perform in front of thousands of people live, or millions on television, in a ratty tee-shirt and “hole-y” jeans.  Aren’t’ you?  The beauty (literally) of the boy band was partly due to the stylized “guy-glam” that it took to pull off ski-goggles with Hilfiger carpenter jeans and sleeveless, puffy jackets.  Also, the more name brand the clothing was and assortment of colors, the better.  Is is too much to ask that the band that I am paying $60 to see from the nosebleed seats in Bridgestone Arena actually attempt to match its outfit(s)?  I think not.

Choreography – Let’s face it; there’s something mesmerizing about five men singing and dancing in perfect unison.  Granted, there have been certain impostor groups that would lip sync to their songs while pounding out an aerobic 8-count repeatedly, but kudos to the groups who were in good enough shape to sing and dance, live!

Energy – *NSync used to enter every show on zip-lines.  ’Nuff said.

Harmony – It will never be said that I am an accomplished vocalist, or musician, for that fact.  But, I know good music, and more importantly, good vocals when I hear them.  With that stated, I love the harmonic blend of several voices.  And if those voices resonate from six-pack abs, then even better.

Image – Surprisingly, the boy bands of the 90′s weren’t models, to say the least.  There were (and without pointing them out, specifically) two members of *NSync, two members of the Backstreet Boys, and one member of 98 degrees that probably wouldn’t have gotten a second look from you if they weren’t famous pop stars.  Thus, this reasoning gives credibility to the music that was produced, since it does take, in fact, more than sex appeal to sell records.

Fun – These boy band songs were almost always fun, staying away from the darker themes of rock or the edgier innuendos of rap and R&B.  Hip hop had yet to be adopted in mainstream pop culture in the 90′s, and one could arguably make the case that boy bands were an indirect influence on the world’s most popular genre today.  Still, boy band songs almost always dealt with the ideology of love and youth, all rolled into one shimmering package.  These teenagers had yet to experience the pitfalls of relationships and adulthood, therefore allowing their music to be a reflection of this naivety, if you will.

So, I believe it’s safe to assume that I am preaching to the choir on this one, but if you happen to be one of those “haters” who prefer shredded guitar licks and long, unconditioned hair on top of unshorn half-beards, then, by all mean, accept my apologies.

But, if you’re like me, and enjoy music as it was meant to ultimately be, as entertainment, then go ahead and buy that new One Directions album on iTunes that you’ve been eyeing.  I’m certain that you won’t regret it, or your money back.

And, finally, let’s thank the good Lord that we never have to say “bye bye bye” to our guilty pleasure; the boy band.

You think about that…

The gentleman in the picture is me.  Well, kind of.  Not physically, but mentally.  Okay, just click “play” below and you’ll see what I mean.  :)

Somewhere in my life, I got mixed up as to what holiness was. I woke up one day realizing that all I had thought about holiness was wrong. So I set off on a journey to rediscover what it meant.

For those of you who grew up in the church, you’re probably familiar with the world. You may even know multiple definitions of it.

But what if those are wrong too?

Holiness isn’t Boring.

When I was a kid, holiness was another word for boring. You probably did too if you care to admit it. That’s what we’ve been taught from the beginning. It’s a lie from the world that is mimicked in the church.

The church I went to when I was a kid elevated certain people as holier than others.

Holiness was the slightly awkward kid who wore his pants a little too high. The one who could quote half the Bible. His shirt was always starched, his tie always tied just perfectly, and his hair may have been slicked back.

Holiness was the girl who played the piano and quilted blankets for orphans in Russia. She was the embodiment of the Proverbs 31 woman who never learned to live it up a bit.  Her idea of fun was picking out new sheet music to play for the church offertory.

Holiness was the couple who never smiled. They did their good deeds, couldn’t take a compliment, and kept their children in line. They always looked tired because they were at the church every time the door opened.

All these people were nice but they were also as exciting as a monochromatic painting. Nice isn’t enough. They were often miserable. You’d think that holiness would produce happiness. Jesus said He came to bring life, abundant life. So why were His followers so dour?

Pastors have tried to medicate this epidemic by telling their congregations that God cares more about your happiness than your holiness. I don’t believe that is the case. Happiness should come out of your holiness, your relationship with the Creator.

In religion, holiness is another word for death. In a gospel-shaped faith, holiness brings vibrant life. – Click here to tweet.

Holiness Looks a Lot Like Jesus

As I’ve read the Bible, something started jumping out at me.

The system is broken.

Even if you were to try to keep all the laws in the Old Testament, you wouldn’t be able to. We’re broken. Broken by sin, bad choices, and a thousand good intentions that left us shattered.

The Bible says that all of our righteousness, all of our best attempts, are repulsive to God.  We’re doomed.

Enter Jesus. The ultimate hero of humanity.

He knew we couldn’t do it. He knew that even though we strive, tithe, sacrifice, and push ourselves to our limits, we’d never hit the holiness factor.

The secret to holiness isn’t what you do. It’s Who you know. And you need to know Jesus. – Tweet this.

The Secret to Holiness is…

Your holiness is not your responsibility.

Your holiness is a byproduct of your relationship with Jesus.<<<

You think about that…

About the guest “poster”: Caitlin Muir is a writer who lives in Texas. She writes primarily on faith, love, and social media. When she’s not writing, she’s usually trying to cross something off her old/boring/30 list, having an adventure, or reading. You can connect with her on Twitter or her website.

*If you are interested in writing a guest post on WriterWill.com, please email me at info@writerwill.com.  Thanks!

Okay, so that was a disgraceful attempt at written humor, and I still haven’t really told you what I’m talking about.  But you have to watch the video for that.

Duh.

When one thinks of a “bandwagon,” one usually thinks of it in a sports context.  I do, too.  But the bandwagon approach to life doesn’t just have to do with hoops and field goals.  Nope, it’s a far more dangerous epidemic than we think.  See for yourself.

And this got me thinking about the phenomenon that is “exes.”

Why do I have them?

If I were to have lived in eras gone by, the cultural norm would have been to proceed with caution when “courting” someone, getting to know that person on a deeper, almost metaphysical, level before entering in to a romantic relationship with them.

But not today.

Today, generally, I (and others) rush into a romantic relationship as if it’s the last Teddy Ruxpin at Toys”R”Us and it’s Christmas Eve. Perhaps it’s societal pressure that causes this happening, or that loneliness is more of a problem than it’s ever been. But if I’ve learned anything throughout the course of my thirty-three-year existence, it’s that anything without a good foundation will crumble.

There’s a specific point to the fact that Jesus calls Himself (rightfully so) the cornerstone.  If He weren’t, the building could not stand.  And this is the same principle that should be applied in our personal relationships with others.

But I don’t like to “overspiritualize” certain elements of relationships.  I never want to use God as an excuse for why I am or am not with someone.

So, there must be a reason why I have all these ex-girlfriends, mustn’t there?

Yes.  And I’ve finally figured out why.

Me.

In every single failed relationship I have ever emerged from, there is one single and solitary uniting factor in these doomed unions.

Me.

Granted, there have been countless transgressions committed by the women I have called “baby/honey/beautiful” over the years, with lying, cheating (once), and mental/emotional instability being the main culprits.  When first investigation of these offenses would begin, I was lightning-quick to point the finger of blame in their collective direction.  But there is always another side to the same story.  And in our story, there’s only one plot line that has always remained the same.

Me.

I do not take the advice I allude to in the paragraph toward the top.  I have often heard my detractors cry that “I do not look for the right person.”  But this is false.  I have always looked for the right person.  The flaw in my method, though, is that while I have always looked for the right person, I have never looked to be the right person.

There are a thousand and one played-out clichés that exist and are used by our friends and loved ones when relationships end.  But faithful are the wounds of a friend with the guts to tell me that a relationship ended because of what I have stressed to you, today.

Me.

But I’m getting better at being the man God intended me to be.

And, maybe, just maybe, my destiny is found in remaining single.  Or, perhaps I will get married one day.  But whichever course that has been mapped out for me before time began, the one constant in these differing paths, whatever the destination that will eventually have me, must always remain the same.

Me.

You think about that…