The Invisible Ninja

Pig Gymnast!

2011-12-01T22:21:00.001-08:00

I am amazed. You just have to watch this for yourself!

pray for Thailand

2011-11-06T22:00:00.000-08:00

Just wanted to share a video that a friend made of his adventure to immigration in Bangkok, Thailand. So much flooding, the country needs to continue to be lifted up in prayer. Cool thing is that the video got picked up by CNN and shown on the news!

Bangkok flood adventure from James East on Vimeo.

Paradise

2011-10-21T16:21:00.000-07:00

I'm sure others of you have been jamming to this song for awhile but I just found it. I had been wondering when Coldplay was going to put out a new album since its been 3 years since the release of Viva La Vida. Overall, I like this song and it sounds very Coldplay-ish but the chorus to me is just o.k. The video is a little strange too. What do you think? The new album, Mylo Xyloto drops October 25th. I'm always excited for new music. check out the video:

Healing - Being Near

2011-10-19T23:32:00.000-07:00

Today marked the beginning of a 2 day training for my internship. Everyone gathered was somehow involved in the mental health field. We had the pleasure of participating in a training put on by Scott D Miller, a psychologist not to be confused with the musician Scott Miller.

I feel very fortunate to have been a part of this because #1 he seems to know what he's talking about and is going against what everyone else is saying and #2 he was hilarious! This guy made the time fly by because he was animated and it was like if you hired a stand-up comedian to do your training. It wasn't humor at the expense of learning, which I think really is a gift.

So what am I getting at? (I know you're wondering how this can be titled "Healing" and be related to a psychologist.) It happened so fast, Scott Miller said it and then it was gone, but it really stuck with me and I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Here's a guy, very secular, and by his own admission, not religious. Oddly enough, psychology and social work are quite secular fields as well--you know, the whole science and religion thing. Anyway, he was talking about his approach to therapy and what has been shown to work. His whole theme is about meeting the client where they are and finding what works for them. He calls this "alliance", and this goes against what we call evidence based practice and selecting a certain style of therapy based on diagnosis.

And this is what he said that got me going. He said that you do not build alliance. He said that you need to be with the the client. He said that is what it means to "heal" in therapy. Then, "Christ healed the sick. Healing means to be near. He went to be near those that nobody would get close to."

He said it so fast and just like that it was gone. But it was like all kinds of light bulbs were flashing and bells dinging like when you when on a gameshow. I couldn't believe how profound and deep this little statement was. And it came, not from a preacher, or a religious author but from a non religious psychologist.

Something that fascinated me was that he stated it like FACT, like it was plain truth that this is what Christ did, no question about it! Quite some faith for someone that says he has no part in religion. For a moment I thought I was in church!

How powerful the implications are! To life and ministry. Think about it, what if our focus was not on programs, funding, taking classes, being a part of a particular church or mission, but on simply being near. Being near to those in need. Being near to the broken hearted. Being near to the sick.

Being near.

Think about it for a minute. It's so simple. It's so beautiful. It's what Jesus did.

A touching truth. Made so clear by someone who probably doesn't even realize it. Interesting how God works and speaks sometimes.

What are your thoughts on this? What do you think, does God ever use the unsaved to speak His truths to us? Thoughts on being near?

Innocent vs Innocent

2011-10-18T22:24:00.000-07:00

This afternoon I was driving home from our local WinCo happily dial surfing on the radio. I heard a song that caught my ear. What I realized is that the song was eerily reminiscent of another song I hadn't heard in a long time. I decided to put both the songs on here so you can judge for yourself. Am I crazy? What gets me is that they have the exact same chorus: "We are, we are, all innocent..." by the first band, Our Lady Peace, and "We are, we are innocent..." by Luminate. Overall, the songs don't sound super similar but, notice that the songs begin in a similar way (percussion).

It's a bummer because the song by Luminate sounds pretty cool. If I wasn't aware of Our Lady Peace's version, I'd like it. What gets me is it just sounds like they liked the song and are Christianizing it. On the other hand, there is something good about redeeming and making a positive message out of what was not. This is just me making a big deal of nothing. As I think about it more, I think part of it is that the Our Lady Peace song was something I listened to a lot to in high school and is significant to me.

Luminate:

Our Lady Peace:

What do you think? Redeeming? Ripoff? Not at all the same?

restless

2011-09-23T22:05:00.000-07:00

A couple of days ago I was driving home in our lovely, newly acquired Subaru (affectionately dubbed, "Dora" - that story is for another time), trying to find a song to match my mood when mention of an interview caught my ear. They were playing highlights of interviews with Jon Foreman. Switchfoot is pretty popular, but I think what draws people to them is their honesty and how personal some of the music is, as if each person can identify with one of their songs as if it was uniquely their own. He was talking about a song on their new album, one that I had heard on the radio a few months back that made me really excited about their upcoming album "Vice Verses". The song is called "Restless".

He gave a backdrop into how the song came to be, which took me into what he was thinking and allowed me to connect even more with the song. He said that they were doing shows in the UK and were put up in a castle. Yes, a castle, you read that right. One night it was raining (which is nothing new there) and he watched the raindrops hit the window. He thought about how they would eventually collect and find their way to the creek next to the castle. The creek would then feed into a stream which then would empty out the shore. How tireless and relentless is the waters search to reach the shore! He pondered, does he have this kind of tenacity in his own life, in his faith and pursuit of God? I may have messed up his description a bit, but still, I thought it was so beautiful.

Are you restless? Are you tireless in your pursuit of God?

Here's a video of the song with the lyrics:

cool!

2011-09-02T14:39:00.000-07:00

This is a really cool video of this new thing called Flare Surfing, I thought I'd share it! Nevermind the annoying interview, just watch the actual surfing.

the beginning

2011-08-25T21:39:00.000-07:00

New beginnings.

I suppose it is not so new, I have spent the last 17 out of 26 years of life in school. While it was so normal before, starting again after not being in it for 4 years is strange.

Hard to believe the first week back is already coming to an end. I know that it is going to move fast and its going to be filled with plenty of stress, joy and newness.

There is a strange reversal as I am older than my wife and so I was out of school and working for several years while she finished up. I think she almost feels left out as some of her friends and peers are still in school and here I am starting up again.

The familiarity of boredom and restlessness is still present. I thought I would escape this because of doing what I want to do, paying for it myself, and knowing more clearly what the end result is. Nope! You still get bored in class and you still get boring teachers! Reality check!

The night before school began I battled some fear induced insomnia. Questions, so many questions. I wondered, am I doing the right thing? Am I right for the field of social work, is it right for me? Did I make this decision on my own without God's leading? Should I be feeling extremely passionate and excited instead of nervous?

I spent the first 4 hours of the first day in an orientation then scooted off to class. Three hours and then an additional hour of lab with the same professor. He told us that there was no way he was going to keep us for the full 4 hours because he can't talk that long. What a relief!

The reality? He really enjoyed the sound of his own voice and did talk the entire 4 hours.

I thought I was going to die.

On my first day of class?

I really began to question myself if I was getting this bored on the first day in my first class. Fortunately my wife talked some sense into me and got me over my doubts and self-inadequacy.

I am excited to learn and be in the classroom again. To glean from the incredible experience of my peers who have such diverse backgrounds and have done so much and to supplement my experience with theory and knowledge and to understand more. I am excited to do an internship in a new place.

Since it is a new experience I am excited to try and make new habits, to know that it is a fresh start.

Well, some habits die hard. Already procrastinating...

Its definitely a new lifestyle. Riding a bike to school! That is an adventure--anyone that knows me well has probably seen how maladroit I am when it comes to bikes!

all for now. sorry for the scattered, incongruous thoughts.

slam poetry

2011-07-31T18:00:00.000-07:00

I don't really know much about slam poetry, but from what I have seen of it I really think it is cool. I admire the poets that spew out their stories and imagery with such force and feeling that it can really get you stirred up! Here are a couple that I have enjoyed:

Shane Koyczan, "the crickets have arthritis" - friend showed this to me after we had a little poetry session at someone's house.

And this one I found when at Mat Kearney's website looking for the release of his new album. His name is Anis Mojgani.

you have any favorite slam poets? I'm relatively new to this. I apologize that I can't post the videos, or I just don't know how! (update, as you noticed, I think I figured out how!)

prayer, God's presence

2011-07-30T13:20:00.000-07:00

I just really wanted to highlight my good friend's reflections on prayer and acknowledging God's presence in our lives, even in the mundane or as we go through our tasks. I think he really captures it well and believe that his thoughts and words will inspire and bless you: Urban Margin

What are your thoughts on constant prayer and God's presence?

transitions

2011-07-29T10:39:00.000-07:00

Transitions oh transitions!

The other day my supervisor let me know that the director paid me a compliment. She has a habit of notifying me of the things he says because he would never actually say it to me. It is a very kind thing for her to do. He said that I had handled the transitions over the last few months very well and remarked on how smooth it was.

Today is a good day to reflect on that. Wednesday actually marked my last day of employment, where I had worked for a little over two years. While not very long, it felt long as there were so many changes as is the nature of this kind of work paired with a structure more akin to an organism, constantly shaping and shifting in response to what comes its way.

As I write, I am waiting for a call to let me know when I should do my exit interview today. I realize that this is actually pivotal to my transition into returning to the education world. I could choose to complain about things that bothered me and I held my tongue on. I could get all puffed up and spew it all out and leave in a mess. Then I think about how important is this? Is it worth it? What is most important? I think about relationships that I value and most of all I am continually drawn to loving people and doing that well. I think that the way I leave must demonstrate that. That doesn't mean not being honest or truthful, but doing so in a way that is constructive, positive, and praying for the best for them.

If I were to leave in a negative fashion, I think part of myself would remain behind. Therefore, hindering transition. While my experience has been mostly good and I have been treated well, nobody is perfect. Although I reflect on this, I certainly wasn't entertaining the idea of leaving in a raging tirade. Its more important that I think things through and realize that I have to live out my convictions especially in light of my last blog on love.

I think have to be honest with them and leave everything there. If I leave wishing I had said this or that, and hold on to "well I was wronged this way" and "that wasn't fair" and "really, they owe me big time" or any other kind of thing I am in the wrong by keeping a list of their faults (not loving them). I would hinder myself from growth by not moving on in my journey, by leaving a part of me there.

As I write this, I am reminded of something that I tell the teens all the time. It is not what about other people do, we cannot let that affect our actions and thoughts. In the end we are responsible for our own actions and responses. When we react, we think we are God because truly each person is accountable to Him and for us to think we should carry out justice is foolish.

I have learned a lot over the last two years and I owe that to the experiences provided me and the graciousness and flexibility of those older and wiser than me. I am thankful to the kids that let me be a part of their lives and inspired me with their stories, most of the time without knowing it. I am thankful for the endless opportunities to love and forgive. Sometimes I feel my love is very small and on low supply, but I don't ever recall Jesus saying that it would be easy to love. He said just do it because it is the most important thing. If life were perfect and everyone was good to each other, we might not realize our acts of love.

What do your transitions look like? How are you challenged to love people?

love

2011-07-21T11:35:00.000-07:00

The other day I had some ample time to think while transporting one of my residents to a home visit. I had the drive back alone to consider my frustration at my situation and my supervisor. I began to outline what I might say to them, how I have felt treated unfairly or wronged and started to check off a mental list of all the times that had happened.

As my feelings welled up within me as I relived each moment, I tried to reason with myself and lose the frustration and be rational. As I believe to be good practice I did my best to see it from the other person's perspective and was able to do so, of course with some of my own quick rebuttals and comments in defense. At this point, I usually debate over what makes more sense, unfortunately, I am biased towards myself. Yes, how's that for an understatement?

This is where things took an interesting turn and I think the Spirit took over and redirected my thoughts. I began to think about Matthew 22:34-40, where Jesus is asked what the greatest commandment is. First he says, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind" which references Deuteronomy. Then he says, And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself' which is from Leviticus.

I'm sure we've all heard sermons or reflections on this. But I find it so interesting, that Jesus doesn't stop with the greatest commandment, he says what is second and says that they are similar. You might naturally think that it would be #1 Love God, and #2 don't do bad things. No! He says to love others, he says to love our enemies.

I hear this all the time, put others before yourself. Or the cute little reminder:
Jesus
Others
Yourself

For the most part, we think of just putting up with those we don't like and being patient. Or being nice. Or serving the under privileged.

So I wondered, where is this going? I questioned then, what is love? This is where I was directly convicted. Naturally, I was directed to 1 Corinthians 13. Love is patient, love is kind, etc etc. You know it, you've heard it.

Love keeps no records of wrongs. Wow, Holy Spirit, could you be any more clear? Here I was, digging up every time I felt wronged because I had been treated rudely and yet I'm being told that if I am to love this person I can't keep a record of their wrongs against me. This blew me away! I think that in my experience in life, Christians will live by this with other Christians for the most part because we preach forgiveness.

But think about it, how many people do you know that has written somebody off because of reasons A-Z and will not associate with them any more. Or so and so aren't talking because he did this. How many divorces are born out of wrongs held against each other?

The beginning of 1 Corinthians 13 in verse 3 says, "If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast,but do not have love, I gain nothing." Dang. Here I am, I work to serve teens and I am mad at my boss. If I can't love my boss, then my work with these teens means nothing. Ouch.

Very sobering and convicting. And yet freeing. This same kind of love that I am told to extend towards others if offered to me. I am so endlessly thankful for this love that keeps no records of my wrongs.

What are your thoughts on love and loving your neighbor?

[To tie things together...I made peace with my boss. It was largely a misunderstanding and communication misfire.]

follow up

2011-07-09T23:47:00.000-07:00

Friends' comments on the previous blog got me thinking a little more.

I do think about how we can look back and it can be embarrassing to see how juvenile we might have been acting or feeling in a certain situation. It is surprising to see that it can really feel like a memory that belongs to someone else, probably because we are doing our best to erase or suppress it. I guess what I am seeing is that whether we like it or not, those things that we regret or rather not see are a part of us and play a formative role in getting us to where we are now! I think that it is a clear statement that says you have grown up and changed from the person in that memory.

A little over a week ago, I was talking with one of my teens about regret. She regretted making certain decisions and just could not get over the fact that she had done so. I heard myself telling her that we cannot live with regret otherwise we are not alive and we continue to live in the past--it prevents us from moving forward and living in the present. I think I needed to hear it too, we all do sometimes! We have to remember that our mistakes should not be relived and continually lamented because there is nothing we can do about it except learn from it. We were able to talk about the strength that she had gained from her decisions, the path she was currently on as a result, and how much more informed and equipped she is than the average person!

Sometimes too, it is hard to remember that grace is free and is infinitely abundant. At times we fail to accept the grace offered us for our wrongs and relive and essentially re-sin by going back to a specific moment. Why condemn ourselves when already forgiven?

I started wondering as well, how many of these "moments" that we go through are we IN right now? Are there things that I feel are so important or are upset about but will think only trivial in the future? If so, what can I do to see that now, to learn from the past to prevent regret in the present and the future? Are there areas in your life that need changing so that you don't look back and say, "man I wish...".

If it seems like I'm on two different tracks, I am. I think that there is a balance, of seeing how we change; admitting and accepting that we are just different from who we WERE; not living in regret; living in light of our past and learning from it.

foreign

2011-07-01T00:45:00.000-07:00

I looked back at some of my previous blogs over the past few years. So many of them meant so much to me and were deeply personal or a sincere expression of what was going on at the time, it is interesting to reconnect with them and remember some of the thoughts, visions, and feelings. At the same time it feels foreign, as if my mind or heart is in a different place because it doesn't come up with those poems or pictures or stories as it did before. I wonder, is it suppressed or is this just a different phase of life? Part of me longs to write like that again, to always have these ideas popping into my mind. Another wonders, am I simply a different person than I was then? Life is interesting, always changing, I think it is so important to document in some form because everything looks different in retrospect. I think it is good to see how we thought or felt in a certain situation and compare it with now, knowing bigger picture and having more context. Some things might upset us in the moment and now we see it wasn't that big of a deal, and we can learn from it.

I think too, that it stirs up our passions and desires that we put aside or stifle. When we can look back and see and feel something that we care deeply about. I consider my poems prayers and so it is cool to revisit them and pray them all over again.

Do you ever experience anything like this? Whether it is looking through an old journal, or photos, or an old Bible or sermon notes or yearbooks or art projects?

information overload

2011-04-21T12:30:00.000-07:00

Well, it has been a long while since I have been on here. I should be inspired by my very prolific writer/artist wife who manages to put up several posts a week. I have had a few different ideas on my mind but wasn't sure how to write about them.

A few months back I thumbed through a journal that Na and I shared as we reflected on chapters from Shane Claiborne's Irresistible Revolution. He talks about spiritual bulimia, this sort of pattern where we take in as much as we can and we spit right out with those of us around us, not taking the time to absorb and digest it. While he was discussing it on the level of spiritual matters it got me thinking about information.

We have so much right at our fingertips with lightning fast internet and our 4g networks and XmRadio and tv. I find that I am out there looking for new things, new information to absorb and read all the time. The internet is such an amazing resource for random information. What I have noticed is the ability for retention is significantly reduced because I have all this information right at hand. Why bother to really remember something when I could just look it up?

Another strange and possibly scary thing is that I find that I read a lot of things without really reading them. If that makes any sense, I have noticed I will click on a bunch of articles and lose interest before I finish or find that I am simply skimming it for interesting parts. As I close the window or tab, I often walk away with not much more than I started with in my mind.

I think that part of this is linked in to an addiction to accessing the information. I find myself wanting to log on and see what information I can find when I could be doing more important things. I even look forward to it when I am doing other things. Hours and hours go away and there is still more out there. Perhaps this is a personal slump, but I wonder in this day and age where we are constantly distracted if there are others, many others, out there like me? I find it disturbing that my consumption is like that of what Shane Claiborne calls spiritual bulimia, I graze the information without really processing it and move on. I have observed as well that due to not wanting to dwell on a certain subject for too long I can often avoid issues that are important and that run deeper. Instead I might spend a long time researching something of little substance.

It is kind of an empty feeling, as if you are going in each day to distract yourself from something else. I think that this simply comes in different forms. People distract themselves by spending hours playing video games, alcohol, tv, drugs, sports, obsessing over almost anything. What is it? Is it knowing that we are called to more responsibility and accountability and yet are overwhelmed with it? Are we afraid to face ourselves or the questions that persist when we STOP? Are we avoiding the people around us, avoiding deep, real relationships? Are we drowning out God's voice with noise? Are we avoiding Him?

shoutout

2011-02-21T18:40:00.001-08:00

It's been awhile since I've posted. Sorry! I just wanted to take the time to give a shout out to my wife who's taken up blogging. I may be biased but she puts up very cool, artsy stuff. Also, she's quite a prolific blogger so you won't have long lapses between posts. So here it is, highly recommended, five stars, five thumbs up:
nafitz.blogspot.com

boxing day

2011-01-09T23:33:00.000-08:00

On December 26, also known as Boxing Day, we went to my grandfather-in-law's(is that accurate?) church in San Diego. We were late of course, perhaps for consistency sake, and walked into the service as they were wrapping up the singing. If I recall correctly, they were in a series that was going through Christ's genealogy. Very fitting, I thought, but then the pastor started in a direction that I thought was very interesting and somewhat intense considering the season.

He covered David and Bathsheba. A king committing adultery, impregnating the woman while her husband is at war, coming up with ways to make her husband think he it was his own, ordering that Uriah be in the front line then draw back so death is definite, the illegitimate child dies, David mourns for days then worships God, God sends Nathan to get David to essentially condemn himself. Heavy in the midst of lights, dessert, gifts and Charlie Brown. But he hit something that I've been thinking about.

He talked about un-confessed sin. He gave a recent example of how he had ordered a netbook for his wife. It arrived, but it wasn't exactly what he wanted. He did notice that the cable was substantially longer than the one he had for his computer and was compatible! He confessed being tempted to switch the cables out as he returned the unwanted computer for the one he wanted, thinking that a) they wouldn't notice and b) he deserved it for the inconvenience.

Now this may be a silly example, but it touched on a reality that plays out in both big and small ways. The truth is that it doesn't matter the size of the issue, wrong is wrong. What it pointed out for me is that a lot of times we don't trust God, that He is Just and will handle matters. I find that when I feel I am wronged, I want to take justice into my own hands by righting the situation for myself. Maybe I'm extra corrupt, but examples of this could be where you're upset that your boss makes you work overtime without compensation. So, what do you do? You might Facebook at work to get your time back, or you might buy yourself a coffee at the companies expense. Here you think, I've been wronged, so if I do a wrong in return, I'm justified. Well, you might rationalize it so it doesn't sound that negative, but its the same.

I think it is so easy to fall into these traps. When we've been wronged, we still need to be obedient and do what is right. It is so tempting and in a lot of situations its almost expected, but we are called to something better. The implications can be scary too because you are taking control and saying that you don't trust God to take care of you/situation or that He knows what is going on. In addition, you lower yourself to the "oppressor's" level and are consequently, one and the same.

A lot of times you can think you are doing the right thing and it may even seem morally sound. We have to pray as we act and trust that God will lead us so what is right.

I don't know if I just have a little bit of a vengeance streak in me or if others struggle with this type of thing. But I'm praying through the thoughts and learning to trust that God is ever present. I'm learning that so many times things seem "gray" and its hard to tell what is right and wrong when everything seems a little bit of both.

God, may we release everything to you. May Your Will be done, NOT mine!

Profile: Caleb

2010-11-21T23:50:00.000-08:00

My first impression of Caleb was through hearing that he had been at the home for a long time and had special privileges. What kind of kid was it that got perks that the others were not entitled to? I met from "shotgun" of the van when we were picking him up from school. The "veteran" staff called from the driver's side and announced that I was the new staff. He was friendly and remarked how it is nice to have another guy staff. He wore sunglasses that looked as if they belonged in the 90's and had the body of a praying mantis. He announced that he would be home "later tonight". The staff reminded him to be back by curfew.

This was his privilege, that he was 18 and had freedom. Whereas the other kids had to pre-plan and have to inform the staff of their planned destinations for their "community time" he could pretty much come and go as pleased. He was the easiest kid to have around because he was never there! Because of his being there for a long time, he had a relationship with the staff to the point that he could be trusted not to get into trouble. This is what I thought was neat, that he had come from a place of stealing liquor from Safeway and lighting fires in the backyard.

What I loved about Caleb was that he was pretty fun to talk to, he was smart and well spoken. He loved philosophizing and discussing music. That is...when he was there, he really had little buy-in to the home because he was always out doing his own thing. When he was home he loved to immerse himself in video games for hours.

He had a lazy eye, one was blind--but because he always wore sunglasses to hide it, it took me months to discover this. Because this caused his other eye to work hard, he often came down with migraines.

When I first arrived I didn't see why he was with us, I mean he was any other teenager with a bad attitude on some days. I then learned from the other staff that he had been subject to unspeakable things by his own mother. My heart is sick for him, this boy that really had no home or family--he had been at the home for so long we were in a sense his family. That's good that these people could provide that, but really, how sad is it that it took a motley group of strangers to be there for him? He and one of the staff both said that they viewed each other as brothers. I do recall his mother calling for him from time to time, and until I knew what happened I couldn't understand why he always refused to talk to her.

His departure was sad. He left on his 19th birthday without having finished high school. It was sad because I had started work in the summer and all he had to do was complete the summer session and he would graduate. What I saw was a kid that bought himself more time by not graduating because upon completion of high school they are required to leave. I saw no resolve or plans or hope. Just stalling because he didn't know what was next. He was so "happy" to leave and be free of "rules", but really it was the end of us being his support. It was sad because I had seen him in the weeks and months before his departure doing nothing--sleeping in, playing video games, hanging out with friends, sitting around--instead of being active and looking for a job and utilizing his resources. Avoiding reality and responsibility. Was it laziness? Or feeling overwhelmed? When I saw administration pushing him, asking him for plans (to try and help!) and offering housing resources (we have a program that helps pay for an apartment!), he became frustrated and angry.

I handed him his birthday/farewell cake and he smiled at me and told me that I was alright, although a bit weird. I laughed and gave him a hug and drove away, hoping that he could find within that motivation to push himself, that he would at least finish high school. That he would find a real family, to stand beside him and support him.

Profile: Bev

2010-09-05T22:29:00.000-07:00

So much for the people sketches I was so eager to do! Well, here’s the next in the series.

She was a little nicer than Alice—ok, so that might be an understatement—and a little easier to get a long with. Bev had a pretty face, round and spotted with freckles, always wearing a smile. She had a hearty laugh and always seemed to enjoy cooking. I remember the first time I ever had “Indian Tacos” was when she made them at the group home.

She was one of the few kids that took interest in my background of living in Thailand. She asked me all sorts of questions, but had a terrible sense of geography. [Way to go American education right? What I have to remind myself is that these kids are moved from place to place to place and it is just a bit short of amazing that these kids even continue going to school. With the trauma and abuse they’ve been through, sometimes I wonder how they make themselves sit through class. It’s tough to tell yourself that when you’re frustrated that they refuse to go to school or call to come home everyday. They have seen and experienced more than anyone should ever have to, let alone as a child. Sorry, tangent.] She seemed fascinated by the idea of being from one culture (USA), living in another (Thailand), then returning to culture A.

I don’t know that she would have ever been able to articulate it, but it seemed that she identified with my experiences. Not in traveling overseas, but in being torn between two cultures, two lives. I felt for this girl. Her Native American heritage entitled her to an absurd amount of money upon turning 18 and even more if she graduated from high school. She could have had the option of staying with us so that we could help her get her high school diploma, but the temptation of said money was too much. She left on good terms, with all of us shaking our heads wondering what we would do, what she would do with the 10 grand a month that her tribe was giving her. It kind of felt like a prodigal son type experience, except that she would not return.

I remember that she always had a good relationship with staff. She had the cell phone numbers of the group home administrators whereas the other kids weren’t given that information. She had this word game with one guy where they would learn a new word and try and stump the other with it.

In the months before her departure, her smile remained, yet somehow in the smallest way you could see that it was strained. Her estranged father, who at some point had been entitled to the same kind of money started calling, demanding that she pay up. I remember my co-worker having to take her cell phone from her after listening to her scream into it for hours one morning, then moving his car out of sight for fear she would want to express her rage by causing physical damage. Her words always said that she was so excited to leave and take her money with her, but you could see it in her eyes. The fear, the unknown, the responsibility. Knowing that suddenly other random relatives were going to start calling. Ten thousand dollars a month of pressure weighed heavily on this scared child.

She kept in contact. We got calls a few weeks later, telling us that she had already blown the full month’s allotted money. Two weeks in.

Months, actually, a year later, I don’t know that she ever finished high school. When I think about Bev, I get this overwhelming sense of emptiness because I know that is what she must feel. Empty relationships, people who are only around until pockets are bare. Empty in that money buys gadgets and dune buggies but can’t fill her enough to sate her soul. Empty in that her heart asks why, why, why can’t I quite be happy, why does my life look like this. Why don’t I have the family I deserve? Why is it that I have all this money, but what I truly want I can’t buy?

It is scary when you can so clearly see the cycle. The atrocities that children today go through and the damage that they carry with them is sobering. Knowing that the odds are that they will make many of the same poor decisions that their parents made can wear one thin. But, we enter each day with the hope that we can model for these precious kids that they don’t have to be a part of the cycle and that they can aspire for anything. I am always reminded by the veteran staff that kids come back years later and it could be any random thing that you said or did that sticks and makes the difference, even if it isn’t in the moment that they realize it. All we have is hope, and I hope out of that shimmers truths of life, love, grace.

unfinished

2010-09-04T17:44:00.001-07:00

Well...it's been a VERY long time since I've been on here. We'll see about trying to start up again.
Wrote the beginnings of...something...want to jot it down on here before I lose it...

Breathe into these sails
mend the holes
made by the white flags
of surrender

seeds

2010-04-20T14:35:00.000-07:00

Something I have been excited about doing and learning as I go is gardening. This spring we decided to tear up the old garden at the group home and start anew. We made it an outing for the day, going to Lowe's and picking out all sorts of vegetables, flowers and plants. The whole thing was meant to be a group effort, and yet I think people just liked the idea of picking out the plants without actually doing the work. This meant that me and one other resident did all the work after leaving for my time off and finding that they remained unplanted.

With everything planted I kept thinking of more places to plant, noticing little places on the side of the house where we could grow stuff. The possibilities are endless! I don't know if I'm doing stuff right, but I'm learning as I'm going and its fun. Its fun to watch the plants grow and feel that you have some part in it.

Yesterday, I dug up some earth on the side of the house that was being wasted. Last year it was an eye sore as weeds always sprouted up and then died there. I had been trying how to take care of that spot and make it more beautiful when I remembered that we had bok choi seeds. After turning the soil and hoeing it and smoothing it out, I began to plant. I couldn't help but remember the parable (nonbiblical) of the king that tested the people by giving them soil with seeds to take care of. He gave out pots to a group and said that they return after a certain passing of days. One boy watered and watered his to no avail, nothing would grow. He looked at his peers in wonder as their plants sprouted. When the time came, they all presented their plants to the king proudly, except the one boy who humbly presented his lowly pot that only contained soil. It turns out that this was a test of honesty, and all failed except the one boy.

A few weeks ago, we talked about the parable of the talents in church. The pastor mentioned that someone had posed the question of what if the person that was given the least number of talents/currency was actually the most gifted of the servants and the master expected him to put his skills to use to make something of the little he was given? What a different perspective on the story!

I'm trying to piece together my thoughts from these two stories as it leads to questions for me. I'm thinking, how often do we almost feel pressured to have results or something to show in our lives or ministry? I think a lot, because we tend to like success or what we view as something that makes our work worthwhile. Its natural for us as humans. I recall missionaries sharing their difficulty in working in France and coming back and having very little to speak of as far as concrete success. People don't like to hear that. They had been missionaries in Africa and people loved hearing their stories of hundreds of people coming to faith. But, does God see all this the way we do? How often is he asking us to be faithful and honest with what he has given us? Does he see a different purpose for what he asks us to do? Are we ever guilty of sneaking in seeds in our soil when we freak out that nothing is growing? Maybe, he's trying to show us something different.

I fear that at times, when life is shaken up and our faith nears faltering that we look for something, anything to grab ahold of to show us that we are doing the right thing or to affirm us. We look in the wrong place. These false seeds are our idols; when we want to SEE and TOUCH something after being led by fire and cloud we build a golden calf.

So, though at times you seem to have little, have faith because you don't know what God has in mind and He can do much more through you than you can by planting your own seeds of success. We are accountable to Him in the end, so don't forge his seal of approval on your work.

Profile: Alice

2010-04-06T21:03:00.000-07:00

I will always remember her so clearly because she was the very first group home kid I met when I started the job. She was heavy with short brownish hair, recently buzzed, and awkward looking like a molting bird. She was quiet, but that did not last long. It started with the other staff asking me to ride to the gas station with her and buy her a soda just to start building some rapport.

She always smelled terrible and it was hard to convince her to get a shower. This was unfortunate because she loved hanging out in the staff office, just sitting on the couch, stinking up the whole room with her body odor.

One time she decided to get a mohawk and then colored that part of her hair purple. It may sound terrible, but to me she looked like Be-Bop from the ninja turtles. Be-Bop was a mutant pig that had a mohawk. I think it was the shape of her nose.

She had terrible stretch marks on the insides of her arms. Apparently she had gained as much as eighty pounds in her short stay because of her medication. It was hard for me to imagine her any different, but she showed me a picture of when she was fourteen and I was surprised because what I saw was a cute little girl. Not the loud, barking, man-ish teenager that I saw day to day. Later on, when I was cleaning out her room when she had moved out I found a picture from when she was a kid. She looked so, so...normal!

That led me to wonder, what happened that she turned out that way? She was always yelling and thought that everyone was out to try and take advantage of her somehow, as if we all planned to screw her over. She was so unstable, she could be happy and mellow one second and then literally anything would set her off. You always felt as if you were treading on eggshells and sometimes you feared for your safety because the way she yelled profanities at you.

Alice was one of those kids that was an absolute mess, but loved rules and order and details. She would cause chaos and drive everyone crazy, but whenever we would have "group" and we wanted to review the rules, she would always spout them off. She was actually helpful to me because she told me how the program and rules went. I always joked that she was the one that trained me!

What scared me early on in the job is that she took a multitude of medications. I don't even know what half of them were for. But, her weight gain was attributed to the meds. Thankfully, I could always count on her though when administering them, because she knew when one was missing.

Not only was she unstable in her moods as I mentioned earlier, but in her whole perception of who she was. I have observed this is somewhat common among teens, but she was always morphing. One minute she was a country girl singing along with our social worker; the next, she was into the hard rock me and another staff were listening to in the van, shunning country music; then she was into the hip-hop stuff that the other kids dug.

What I see is that she really really wanted to be accepted by anyone. She often engaged in what we call attention seeking behavior. And its true, she wanted to be noticed. I saw it in the ways that she would try and show off to the new kids when they had just moved in. The way that she would become someone's sworn enemy if her roommate hated that person, just to have that bond with them. When that person left, she was best friends with the supposed enemy. As a member of society, her functioning level was very low because of how unstable she was. And yet, at the core, this overbearing obnoxious girl just wanted to be accepted and know that she was loved. You could see it in the way she followed you around the house. One time, a co-worker started up a game with the other staff to see how many times you could walk around in a circle with her following between the living room and dining room before she would stop.

She was the girl that always made you feel on edge while at work. As if you never knew what to expect. I am thankful that she was there when I first got there because that really was good training, being in a house with such a high-maintenance person. I noted later after she left, that everything was easier. That, when she was there it felt like work and later on, not so much.

Sometimes at night she would draw with marker on her hands girly designs like rainbows and hearts that seemed contrary to the mean, gruff person that I saw everyday. The funny thing was that these usually ended up on her face by morning.

I hated having to get her up in the morning for school. You could stand in her room saying her name over and over again for 10 minutes to no avail. As soon as you walked in there you wanted to leave because it always looked like a bomb had gone off and it smelled terrible.

All the rampages, anger, swearing, stinkiness and manipulation made her really hard to be around. But I did see different sides to her. She was easiest when you were 1 on 1 with her, because she had your undivided attention. She showed she had a soft heart, she would suggest nice things I could do for my girlfriend. She was observant, she noticed that my car was always pushing "Empty" when she got in.

Things ended bad. On my vacation time, she went crazy on the staff filling in for me. "5150" is when when someone is deemed a danger to themselves. She got herself 5150'd on purpose. She couldn't handle it, she needed the high level of structure and attention that we couldn't give her.

I always prayed that Jesus would show me how he sees the kids, how he saw Alice, to let me look through his eyes and see a beautiful child of his that he loved. That was so hard. Especially when I felt like I had my best inspirational talks with her about how she mattered and we cared about her and the next moment she would be in my face. I just felt that she was so broken that she couldn't accept it, was it her past or her chemical and mental conditions?

Now, she's out of my life forever. I can't help but wonder, what could I have done differently. I know that Jesus was with me, because he must have granted me the extra patience to deal with her and say difficult things to her. How could I have been a better source of light and hope in her life? I'll never know.

potential project

2010-03-24T23:54:00.000-07:00

Been sitting on this one for awhile, but I think I've decided that I will do some character sketches that tell the stories of the kids that I work with. I think that it would be a useful reflective tool, to help me remind myself why it is that I work with them. This job of working in a group home with teens that come from such difficult pasts can quickly get tiresome and frustrating because we get caught up in their behavior. It is a chance to take a step back and see that although they are annoying and cuss and yell at you that they are broken and have had messed up lives.

There is an issue with confidentiality that I am still mulling over. I am thinking that of course, their names will be changed and maybe some details as well. There could be some potential problems with doing this, but I don't know how it all works. (if you know anything on this, some advice?). They just have such interesting stories that they probably don't even think much about, but that we could learn from.

Brennan Manning on the prodigal

2010-02-27T15:56:00.000-08:00

from the Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning page 189. On the prodigal son:

"I am moved that the father didn't cross-examine the boy, bully him, lecture him on ingratitude, or insist on any high motivation. He was so overjoyed at the sight of his son that he ignored all the canons of prudence and parental discretion and simply welcomed him home. The father took him back just as he was.

What a word of encouragement, consolation, and comfort! We don't have to sift our hearts and analyze our intentions before returning home. Abba just wants us to show up. We don't have to tarry at the tavern until purity of heart arrives. We don't have to be shredded with sorrow or crushed with contrition. We don't have to be perfect or even very good before God will accept us. We don't have to wallow in guilt, shame, remorse, and self-condemnation. Even if we still nurse a secret nostalgia for the far country, Abba still falls on our neck and kisses us."

Prodigal son is one of the most preached on topics but I think it is because we all identify with it in the different phases of our lives.

portrait

2010-02-18T13:16:00.000-08:00

we try and paint
life as we see it
our self-portraits look like Picasso's--
distorted, twisted, mangled.
we couldn't ever capture
You on canvas, so
our brush strokes say--
fields of swaying gold,
kaleidescope sunrises,
untameable seas--
they are reflections
of the origin of beauty,
hidden signatures.
Yet,
our self-portraits are telling
of what we truly see
For,
if we are the image of the unseen
then my Picasso
is You.

a reflection on how we allow our imperfections and sin to weigh us down, to mar our self-image, to live in that darkness when that is not what God sees when he looks at us. he sees that we are hidden with Christ in glory, our wrongs are forgiven. we are redeemed, we are renewed. this comes in response to times where you feel as if you loathe yourself, as it is hard to see change or growth even as you strain for it and pray for it. yet, if we cannot look at ourselves in light of redemption then we are dishonoring our Creator, for we are in His image. we ultimately project ourselves on Him.

temple

2010-01-28T23:59:00.000-08:00

This is your house
Made by man's hands
According to your blueprints
A faded picture
Of what is unseen

I doubt
You could ever reside here
Darkness has crept in
Through a crack in the window
Now it lets itself in the front door
When you arrived unannounced
I locked you in the front chamber
To keep you safe, so you wouldn't see
That unruly hazard walks free through corridors unkempt
I wanted to corral them
To usher them out the backdoor

Instead, your temple has become
a white-washed sepulcher
A haven for thieves
a nesting ground for vipers
a market place of filth, filled
with seedy cellars of unspeakable acts
a carnival of deception and false light
indulgences for sale
merchants of mercy
prophets of profit,
"Give me your soul
and I'll mend your sole"
where we present presents for your presence

How did it get this way
I beg you
to reclaim this ground
To take back what is yours

I beg you
To kick down the door
Brandishing a whip
Wielding your sword, your truth
Overturn the tables
Tear down the altered altars
and the Asherah poles
Ransack this darkness lair
Drive out the whores, the mercenaries, the tax collectors
Clean out your Father's house
of those that fall to their knees to prey
Crush the idols to other deities
Drive out the blind guides
The brood of vipers
for they tithe their spices
And forget justice
Blood of the prophets is on their hands
Blood is on my hands

This is your house
Take back what is yours
This is your house

Reading about Jesus clearing out the temple and connecting that to the scripture says our bodies are temples was powerful. It brings out all sorts of unnoticed things when we see the parallels with what angered Jesus in the temple. I think about how if Jesus were to show up, how he would respond to what he saw in His Father's house. A whole bunch of emotions are stirred up, thinking about what I would do to clean up before he got here. Then, it is horrifying to realize that the Spirit already resides here. How many altars to Baal have been built, how many Asherah poles are there? How have I misunderstood grace and justice and thought salvation is for sale? Are there things I don't even know are wrong in there and won't ever know until Jesus sends them packing? How do we turn this into powerful prayer?

I have had this in my head for almost 2 years now and just haven't felt like it comes out right, but wanted to get it down and take it as a first draft (the concept in the mind is clear and yet the words...they don't come). Suggestions welcome.

my garden

2010-01-15T00:15:00.000-08:00

this isn't mine, but it was given to me in a vision so clear.

i survey my garden; what i see is that the soil of my heart is filled and covered with a multitude of colors. i want to show Him how beautiful it is but i leave him standing there because my eyes are continually drawn to the weeds that weave their way between the fruits of my labor. sometimes they blend in, sometimes they are visibly choking the life from the other plants as they sprout faster and quicker and absorb all the light.

not wanting him to see it that way for it seems to root in neglect, i go to work. i grab the weeds that i can see and rip them from the soil. unfortunately, they are anchored well and so the roots remain. others i see, i get a solid grip at the base and remove the weed by its roots. i see however the visible damage on the roots, evidence that remnants remain locked in the dirt.

He walks over to me and i try to get him to wait longer, to stand back. he inquires, "do you need help?" i scoff, "no! i've got this! see...!" He takes the weeds and silently approaches my garden, much to my chagrin.

screams, pleads, and yells do no good.

to my horror he squats down and begins to dig in the soil. slowly, with care, the digs up around a weed. deeper and deeper he goes, using his hands, filling his fingernails with the mire.

"no! what are you doing? please, i beg you just let me do it. i wanted to present it perfect for you!"

i rush over to him, hating to see him soiling his hands, his perfect hands for me. i grab them and pull them from the work. i expect to see a prince's hands--soft and gentle as He is the Prince of Peace. instead, i feel rough, worn hands accustomed to hard labor. dirt stains between the callouses. the scars; memories of wounds, splinters, cuts, bruises. the scars. the scars.

what i saw was that we try to uproot our weeds because we want to present ourselves to Christ as He would want to see us. we don't want him to know that they are there, so we hide and wait and wait. we then show him strictly what we want him to see. what i see is that we try and give Jesus whatever it is that we have or are going through when we don't even know how deep some stuff is rooted and so we give it to him prematurely. we have to let him IN and SEE our hearts so he can walk us through it, work it out with us. i don't know about you but there is always this fear, of letting Him see our heart, i want to get the weeds and and show him the weeds that i've uprooted and once i'm clean, then he can see what i have. but this is imperfect and will never work, we will wear ourselves out this way.

need to just start up again

2010-01-08T14:33:00.000-08:00

I never intended to take such an extended hiatus from writing on here. I am not sure what happened. I could blame a change of environment and adjusting to that. I don't know about other writers out there, but you find a place or setting that just works for you and you can only write in that space and time. I suppose I haven't found that yet here out of my own laziness.

I do have a lot of things and ideas that I wish to touch upon...it would be kind of crazy to try and tackle it all in this post. I think the purpose of this one is to start again.

I have missed writing. You get ideas and they float in your head for awhile, but unless you do something with them or write them down the more likely they are to get lost or overturned in our streams of consciousness. It is a chance to make concrete, to make visual nebulous and drifting thoughts. To mark your inspirations so that you can go back and look on them later and see where you have gone in relation to it. This is exactly what I have needed, but have avoided these last months. How I regret it.

So here's to starting again and making an effort on other things I've thought about but avoided.

2009-05-19T23:05:00.001-07:00

I have had a couple of things on my mind as of late and I'm not sure if they go together or not, we'll see. First I want to start with something from Messy Spirituality by Mike Yaconelli. A very visual example that he gives in his book of how our spirituality is non-linear is he shows a chart of a line representing our growth in a scraggly rising and falling manner. It is inconsistent and, as the title of the book suggests, messy.

As I think about it, I like how true it is, but I have to admit that it is incredibly frustrating. I think we all desire to see change and progress as could be seen in the use of these trigger words in recent campaigns. If we don't, we become restless and wonder what we need to do or we become complacent and consumed by the lull of same-ity. We know that relationship with the Ultimate Being, studying the scriptures, and learning through each other are essentials to growth and sometimes we lock ourselves into systems that we promise ourselves guarantee more spirituality. We quarantine ourselves from sin, systematically trying to eliminate it and hoping that increased frequency of Christian-related activity will help grow us and quell our fleshly urges.

Neither supporting tendencies toward hyper-religiousness nor treading the trite bashing of it, I want to say that I understand why we trap ourselves into this. I see that I am attracted to the idea that when I do weight-training I can markedly see change in strength and endurance. With this in mind, it is a little disturbing when Yaconelli tells me that all my efforts won't guarantee me exponential growth. I'd like to think that I could put a huge spiritual deposit and make monthly contributions and that these will compound and...vaboom!

I am also thinking about how this is contrary to a certain theologian's ideas whose name escapes me. He said that we enter into multiple "crises" of faith and I believe that he thought that after the 3rd, we are capable of living a sinless (or at least nearly) life because we are so reliant upon God and the Spirit. Through the crises, we have drawn very close to God.

This sounds iffy to me, but I can appreciate the beautiful concept of a life that draws so heavily on the Spirit, that is aligned with God and constantly abiding.

Yet, I am drawn back to the idea of the messiness because it makes sense of our humanity. We have our ups and downs, our emotions make us human and they pull us in all different directions at once. How is it that we can be doing everything we can and go through the darkest of times and on the other side of things, how is that we can be a filthy prodigal and yet close to God? I guess what we need to see is that it is not what we are doing. And yes, our spiritual growth chart may fluctuate, but I believe that at the end of that chart is God, that if we are constantly moving in his direction we will find Him and it won't matter how high or low the line reads, because we've found Him.

qualified?

2009-04-27T20:01:00.000-07:00

Do you love yourself?
Enough to accept the love of others?
I think that we try to impress God sometimes. Trying to earn his love, his favor, his blessing. This Christianity thing is so confusing—I wouldn’t have it any other way—and yet simple. What has kept me at times in rapt interest is how our faith is such a dialectic. God is immanent and yet transcendent; our faith does not need works and yet it is dead without it; the Kingdom of God is within us and yet it is coming. How are we ever to understand it?

On Easter Sunday a pastor used a visual demonstration for his message that showed how foolish we are sometimes. He got on the treadmill and continued to speed it up which represented all our actions and busyness trying to please God. If this really worked that would mean that we would be earning our salvation and we’d ultimately be bringing God down to us. Yet, as we could clearly see all his running wasn’t getting him anywhere. In my mind I like to take it a step further and picture us smaller, like hamsters who run and run in the little wheel as if they think they can reach a specific destination. This does not mean that we do nothing, we still must seek God. This is one of those confusing things.

We need to be reminded of these things from time to time. We all know it and hear it in different presentations that speak to us at the right moment. I have just been thinking that we need to really love ourselves in order to accept God’s love for us. I have been thinking about how I go through phases where I feel God’s presence, love, or closeness more than others. Usually it is in the midst of struggle and feeling that he is my ultimate support. Or when serving him, you feel that he is especially near. Yet at the same time, does this make any sense? God loves us just the same. We are clothed in his grace, so that when he looks at us he sees Christ and all the ugliness that we feel is only real to us (Col 3).

Total depravity. The T in TULIP in Calvinism. Sin has devoured and destroyed the human nature and so everything in us is affected by it. Even though we are born of a new nature, the sinful has been buried and death died, it is easy to introspect and get our focus on the wrong things. This I think, causes us to harden our hearts. We feel guilt or embarrassed and do not want God to see us in our wretched state. In a sense, we look at our missteps and say that we haven’t read our Bible, prayed, attended Bible study and that’s why our faith is struggling or we aren’t hearing from God. We do not give God access to our hearts even though he can see them because we want to clean things up before we let him in the door. From Revelation 3:20 I have had this vision of preparing a room for Christ. When he knocks, I am surprised, although he has warned that he is coming and I have been preparing—I am not ready. Naturally, I want the place to be immaculate and so I keep him waiting outside. How long will he wait, how long will he knock?

Anyone that has read anything on here in the past might have noticed the heading “skulking in the dark searching for the light.” The idea behind that is, knowing, believing that the light exists but not being qualified to be in the light. This is the wrong mindset, because we are sons of light.

Let him in.
How long will he wait, how long will he knock?

in bloom

2009-03-02T07:30:00.000-08:00

These buds, these blooms in blossom
delicate and ornate, clash
in a bold statement
to begin the march
clinging to a gossamer thread
of life, fighting to withstand
the mighty winds--unrelenting,
resisting the dance of seasons

These buds, these blooms in blossom
soft and silent
herald a message
brash and unabashed
more forceful than the tempest's harshest gales
when everything has lost its color
when your heart fears
it has stolen the blue from the sky
replacing beauty
with dour gray

These buds, these blooms in blossom
gentle and pastel
many fall unnoticed--a worthy risk
a tale of self-giving
foretelling, reminding
that these clouds shall be lifted.

--It's rainy, it's cold, it's windy, the sky is dark and it resembles anything but spring. And yet these budding trees, these first flowers puzzle me. They have the audacity to confront the weather with their tacit statements; is it to say "your time is up, go home" or give us hope when we wonder if spring will ever come? This season is an odd juxtaposition of violence and serenity. It is as if everything has been in winter slumber, the wind is simply an irascible response to being awakened from its hibernation.--

manna

2009-02-27T17:33:00.000-08:00

The story of manna feeding the Israelites in the desert is one that everyone knows. I'm sure I have learned the lessons from it before, hearing in Sunday school and sermons preached on it. But in this time of learning to trust God it really shows how He only led them day by day, never giving more than they needed but just enough.

I picture myself in their situation where in Exodus 16 they are given specific rules for the weird little white flakes that appear on the ground in the morning and melt away by the end of the day. They are told to gather enough for each person but not to store any of it for the next day. How crazy is this? If you are in the barren desert, is it not instinct to collect all the food you can while you have the opportunity? Who knows when its going to stop or when you are going to come across food again? But, Moses became angry with those that disobeyed because by the following morning it stunk, had molded, and maggots were crawling around in it!

God led these people here with wondrous signs along the way. The plagues, the swallowing up of Pharaoh's army by the sea, the pillar of fire or cloud to guide them. The very manna itself is a miracle. Yet it strikes me that God keeps people on edge, hanging on by the skin of their teeth. Moment by moment, day by day, forcing them to give full trust to God because they can do nothing else.

We face decisions each day and do not usually take the time to consult God with them, usually just the ones where we aren't sure what to do. Can you imagine, trading places with the Israelites? I think about how hard it is to trust God now, asking him what he has in store for my future. It is good to think about the future, but what about each day? Are we taking the small steps of trust? Honestly, thinking like this makes me nervous. I don't particularly enjoy crazy spontaneity (planned spontaneity is cool though haha) or not knowing things ahead of time so the idea of trusting that God is going to leave manna with the morning dew each day is frightening. It does give me insight into what believing, trusting, putting absolute faith looks like. Just enough for each day. Don't worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own (Matt 6:34). This solidifies Jesus nifty little message about not fretting, bringing it to life showing how the Israelites lived. Crazy.

Psalm 130

2009-02-24T05:34:00.000-08:00

Psalm 130:

"1 Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD; 2 O Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.

3 If you, O LORD, kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand?
4 But with you there is forgiveness; therefore you are feared.

5 I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope.
6 My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.

7 O Israel, put your hope in the LORD, for with the LORD is unfailing love and with him is full redemption.
8 He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins."

This Psalm really reached me today. It is simple and beautiful--waiting, crying out, putting hope in God's redemption, love, and forgiveness. Even moreso, I felt I was able to identify with the comparitive metaphor about waiting for the Lord with that of a watchman. As a watchman, I know that feeling very well, dying for the sun to come up so the shift is done and I can go home. I just found it so interesting that I don't ever recall reading this Psalm before and yet an entry I wrote earlier ("Graveyard", two posts back) is similar in nature, comparing the reprieve of the morning with God's hope. Oh how the Psalmist says it so much simpler and more beautiful. Amazing how the Word keeps coming alive and can always reach us anew with things that touch us and push us forward. Praise God for his faithfulness!

exodus

2009-02-12T05:06:00.000-08:00

My little revelation that identified my time of struggle and transition with the exodus of the Israelites was exciting, for a day. When I wrote that I somehow thought that this realization would give me some bearing which would give me direction and solid footing. I had felt so refreshed after feeling the scriptures hit home and had great hopes. I think that when we are shown these things we are met with equally difficult responses, either as testing or to prevent us from going the right way...I'm not sure. The reason being, the week that followed such optimism was in fact very dark. My moods were sour I was in a sort of torpor. I liken this to the way we go about setting New Year's resolutions--we aim high and when we're off target we crash and give up. I also wonder whether the enemy sent a dark cloud to limit my vision and discourage my soul. Either way, the first step was realizing where I am and then giving up trying to go it alone.

Something that has spoken to me is found where God battles through Moses for his people against Pharaoh in a demonstration of power and stubbornness. Before Moses ever encounters Pharaoh God tells him that He "will harden Pharaoh's heart, and though I multiply miraculous signs and wonders in Egypt, he will not listen to you...And the Egyptians will know that I am the LORD when I stretch out my hand against Egypt and bring the Israelites out of it." (Exodus 7:3-5) You can tell this isn't about convincing Pharaoh to release the covenant people but about God displaying his power--not just to the Israelites but to the Egyptians--as Pharaoh relents after each sign and then defaults on his promise. By the 4th sign--the gnats--Egypt's magicians issue a cryptic caveat: "This is the finger of God." (Ex 8:19) This phrase is huge! First that the magicians who were able to emulate the first few miracles are admitting to the power of God. Second that they are warning that this is just a finger, beware of even greater power!

This image is further delineated when Moses says later on, "the hand of the Lord will bring a terrible plague on your livestock..." (Ex. 9:3) God's purpose is repeated twice later on, first as a proclamation of power to all the earth (9:16) and as a tale to pass from generation to generation of how the LORD made real his dedication to them (10:1-2).

The fact that God fights for his people that he has bound himself to through covenant is beautiful. The thing is that it is difficult to understand how God works, why he allowed for them to become enslaved for so long and to let them suffer. Why he couldn't cut to the chase and be more forceful with his power.

Taking a look at Pharaoh and what he is left with is startling. In a sense he ravaged his own land out of his stubbornness by all the plagues and his people lost much of their valuables as the Israelites politely plundered their silver and gold.

Although it may be hermeneutically incorrect or at least inconsistent, a lot can be learned from this when you look at both sides of this piece of history. First, that God is persistent, fighting to win hearts when you look at what he did for freedom for his people. Second, that God is persistent, fighting to show himself even to the hardest of hearts. I feel that we can really identify with Pharaoh in this situation. For a time I've been struggling because I know God exists and he is there, I've seen his handiwork but I was struggling against the feeling of not feeling Him. It is a sort of battle within, because logically you know that God is doing things to get our attention and only sometimes we notice. When we do notice, we relent and say that we'll turn to him only to turn away at the slightest distraction. Just as Pharaoh did over and over again--promising to let God's people go only to renege.

I peeked ahead a page or two from where I am currently reading and saw underlined, "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." When you plug this back into the perspective of God pursuing Israel, defending them, and awing the current generation and many to come this is a beautiful, powerful promise and reminder. Taken another way, it is a statement that should allow you to slow down and reflect. Reflect upon what God is doing and not what you are doing, that he is fighting for us and wooing us and sometimes we just don't notice so we need to be still.

graveyard

2009-01-30T07:31:00.000-08:00

my soul finds no rest
sleep comes as the day dawns
and the world awakens
spending the hours of the night
mixing, mingling with the shadows
weaving, deceiving, erratic, silent
through corridoors
though sheltered in hollow glow
they own the night

i rise with the moon
feeling at a loss for a day lost
downtrodden for rest has not come
a lingering sensation haunts
have i
missed the midst of your mist?

each night as my faith begins to dim
though i falter you never fail
you beckon from the east
unfurling a new covenant of hope
which shines to the innermost place
over and over again
i am left without words
only to inhale in silence,
breathing in such splendor
in hope of healing and cleansing
from within
so that i may find rest

i will wait through the night for you
though doubt looms and consumes
through the night i wait
for your light
for life
i will wait through the night for you
though i waver
you are steadfast
i will wait through the night for you
to bring rest

the desert

2009-01-26T07:00:00.000-08:00

We get touchy when people say that God spoke to them even if it is one of those instances when you are reading a scripture passage that you’ve perused many-a-time to find that it jumps off the pages at you and starts your blood pumping. No one can deny this kind of experience because it is so real to the individual in a way that cannot always be relayed to others. I think we have all been on both sides of this.

Today I am the victim of said situation. I feel like so much has been opened up to me to help me understand where I am and where I am going. I have been struggling with this time of transition and what it all means, losing sight of both the future and the present. I have had a lot of visions of the open sea and the desert which was made real to me in my time in Mongolia—being landlocked for the first time, watching the land give way to the sands. I had thought of it as my time in the desert, my time of trials and meditation and that I was supposed to come away with something.

I confess that I hadn’t cracked open my Bible for a long time until this morning. I was losing hope. I had been trying to commit myself through a prayer that my conversations with God would no longer be one sided, that it would be continuous and flowing. I failed; I spiraled; I became selfish; I lost motivation. I tried crying out, I tried reading biographies and inspirational stories of people that have experienced God on their journey. I felt as if everyone could see that I felt more lost than ever and yet I couldn’t admit anything, I had to at least try and appear that my act was somewhat together. Cantankerous moods were it seeping out. What bothered me most was that I KNEW God was/is there, I KNEW he was/is faithful, but I just really couldn’t feel him. I felt like I was continually learning new things, but his presence seemed too far to grasp. I felt like I had opportunities to speak hope and truth into people’s lives but didn’t feel at the right quality of heart to do so. There were people I wanted to connect with but I couldn’t because I was ashamed of myself. I was afraid of what people might really see.

That said, I turned to Psalm 106 where my bookmark lay. I suppose I faintly remember that I was battling through the Psalms, seeing how the poets and artists could question God and praise him in the same breath. It begins with thanking God for his unending love and continues with the blessings he has given to the children of Israel. What have they done in return but scowled and forgotten the promises, the covenant.

It feels very much like a delayed effect, because we have studied the Israelites and their wanderings in the desert so much. I am so familiar with their story and all this time I have gathered from it the lessons that we need to not be like them. How about looking at it differently? How about identifying with them? That’s exactly what happened to me this morning. I read the passage and saw that I am one and the same. After it talks about all the Lord had done for them and them praising him it continues:
“But they soon forgot what he had done and did not wait for his counsel. In the desert they gave in to their craving; in the wasteland they put God to the test.” (106:13-14)
Forgive me Father for not being patient and forgetting all that you have done.

I am coming to see that this time of transition is still my time in the desert. I have been asking so many questions about why am I here now that I forget that like the Israelites you are leading me through the hot, parched land and though it is painful and takes time that the promised land lies ahead. That you have provided all along and yet I only think about my surroundings and how I am not happy with what I have and am doing. That I can still worship you in the desert. Continually remind me of your promises because I feel dry and hollow and to the point of desperation, as if I will take anything that will fill me even though I know it seeps and steals my vision. Turn me away from these mirages and direct me to the path. Remind me that these oases are not the land you promised but temporary respite for our souls because you know we are weak; that we cannot stay, we must continue on. When I am weak, grant me the strength to clasp the hands of those around me.

The Lord punished the Israelites and banished them to the desert for 400 years. It is as if I thought there was no out so I just decided to wander the sands, surrendering my fate and hope. Please Lord, do not extend my time in the desert to 400 years but guide me in your ways and forgive me for my unfaithfulness to seeking you. Thank you that after skulking in the dark you have shown me some light.

Shepherd or Father?

2009-01-13T04:15:00.001-08:00

Wondering how to think about God...Jesus presented him as the shepherd that left the 99 in pursuit of the one that wandered away and also as the father of the prodigal.

If I ran away
Would you come after me?
Or would you wait
As a father for a prodigal
Afraid of taking those first steps
What if I get lost
What if I can't find my way
But I know that is better than here
How do I know what I know
These shadows--are they real
What shapes them, makes them
I've always stayed close to home
Always wondered, never wandered
Keeping the path in sight
Not quite trusting
If I ran away
Would you come after me
I feel more lost than ever
If I ran away
Would you come after me
Where I am is all I know
I'd leave for the chance, the hope
of Rescue
Unless you wanted me to stay

Ann Lamott on baptism

2008-12-18T05:46:00.001-08:00

I really liked this quote from "Traveling Mercies" by Ann Lamott. (p.231-232) A very very funny, honest and quotable book. Hilarious and yet she's a beautiful writer and has some really interesting reflections. She gets on this topic of baptism when she is complaining about how she fears the weather because it messes up the hair she spends so much time perfecting.

Can you imagine the hopelessness of trying to live a spiritual life whne you're secretly looking up at the skies not for illumination or direction but to gauge, miserably, the odds of rain?...Because Christianity is about water: "Everyone that thirsteth, come ye to the waters." It's about baptism, for God's sake. It's about full immersion, about falling into something elemental and wet. Most of what we do in wordly life is geared toward our staying dry, looking good, not going under. But in baptism, in lakes and rain and tanks and fonts, you agree to do something that's a little sloppy because at the same time it's also holy, and absurd. It's about surrender, giving in to all those things we can't control; it's a willingness to let go of balance and decorum and get drenched.

There's something so tender about this to me, about being willing to hav eyour makeup wash off, your eyes tear up, your nose start to run. It's tender partly because it harkens back to infancy, to your mother washing your face with love and lots of water, tending to you, making you clean all over again. And in the Christian experience of baptism, the hope is that when you go under you come out, maybe a little disoriented, you haven't dragged the old day along behind you. The hope, the belief, is that a new days i upon you now. A day when you are emboldened to take God at God's word about cleanness and protection: "When though passeth through the water, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee."

a year later

2008-12-17T02:12:00.000-08:00

This time last year I was stressing and freaking out about the reality that I would be heading over to Mongolia—a place foreign in both culture and the inconceivability of the climate. There was a sense of adventure stirred in with this fear of the unknown as well as just trusting that this is what I was supposed to be doing.
A lot has transpired in a year and yet here I am in the same physical place at the same job. Strange to think that I went all the way across the world to find out what I should be doing, to find God, to find myself and then I came back to familiarity.
I remember thinking about how cold I felt here even though I had hand warmer packets in my pockets and a thick coat over my body. I remember when I got off the plane in Mongolia and it was so cold it hurt, it was a strange sensation. It was an intense shock after being in Thailand for a solid month, contrasting snow with tropical sands. I recall feeling lost in Thailand, not knowing how to prepare myself for what was coming. I felt a little like I was closing myself off.
I have seen a lot, learned a lot but I do not feel much farther from where I was a year ago. Part of going on that trip was self discovery, learning how to lean on God and find what I can do to be pleasing him by helping people. If anything, I feel even more lost because I do not have this to look forward to. I need to see a way out, rather than assuming this sinking is inevitable. I have always counted on something to rescue me by giving me purpose. What do you do when you look ahead but cannot see or even imagine the future?
This Christmas I will not be with my nuclear family as I always have been, but get to spend time with my love and relatives. Although things feel and seem familiar, I can taste something different in the air. Opportunity, to travel and get quality time with my girl, to fight and laugh on the long open road. These are enough to ignite hope and excitement for what is to come when it is so overwhelmingly the same.

prints

2008-12-15T01:41:00.000-08:00

The clouds have descended
Layering the earth
I wonder if this is what it is like
To live in the sky
I see a flurry of prints pressed in
Going this way and that
The marks, in single file
Forging new paths with each crossing
To feign the presence of more
Each step, a longing sigh
For that day
When two prints at a time
Replace the one

Anywhere

2008-12-07T20:37:00.001-08:00

The car is parked
You are shivering
So I hand you my jacket
And you hide beneath
I sit on my hands
Not sure what to do
Looking out the driver’s side
I swear we have been here before
Maybe that is just it
This road we know so well
Seems so right, so familiar

I don’t care
if we take the long way there.
I don’t care
if we take the long way there
If you are with me

You ask me
But I say I’m not cold
Right now
I just want you to stay
We’ve taken a wrong turn or two
But unveiled new things
Along the way
Remember that old tree we climbed,
worn and off the common path,
with a view only for two?

Though a sigh lends to questions
Though a silence stands between
You are still here
And I don’t want to be anywhere
But here, with you

I don’t care
If we take the long way there
If you are with me

Abraham

2008-12-03T14:37:00.000-08:00

Patriarch of the stars
Father of the sands
Won’t you hear my plea
To intercede for your descendents
For the smell of sulfur in the air
Is beginning to remind me of Sodom
The injustice
The gluttony
The idle hands
The poor ignored
Is beginning to look like Gomorrah
The ash, I can taste it in my mouth
We distance ourselves from these fabled cities
For we were founded on freedom and truth
Our ignominy tells no tales
Is there a righteous man
Even one?
Patriarch, oh that you were here
To plead on our behalf
That the righteous might rise up
And be heard before it is too late
For our transgressions
Are the catalyst
In which we’ve been dousing ourselves
Before the city is lit ablaze
Patriarch of the stars
Won’t you forgive us
For treating your children
As grains filtered one by one
As the sand of time
Falling
As we watch
With able hands, each life
Waste away

Righteous man, rise up
Save your city from destruction
For the cry of the forgotten
The rumble of the empty stomachs
The voicelessness of the downtrodden
Is beginning to sound like the haunting chant
The chant of justice, of judgment

Father of many
Righteousness was credited to you
For faith in an unseen covenant
As fools we have disgraced your blessing
Ascribed to us
For our “sin so grievous”*
I fear, is a piercing outcry
That will not be ignored
Father of many
Won’t you rescue us
So that the righteous
Will not be swept away with the wicked? *

*Genesis 18:20
**Genesis 18:23
Concept impetus: Ezekiel 16:49

greatest fear

2008-11-03T05:11:00.000-08:00

I’m sorry things have been so unclear
So unpredictable, so overcast
So sorry that who I am
So often affected by the forecast
But I’m beginning to learn
And see things anew
That when the sun is hidden
And the moon vacant
When clouds make us hold our breath
That the dark night is actually brighter

I want you to know
That every drop of ink
Every stroke of the pen
Is a tear shed for you
In joy, in pain, in suffering, in solace, in peace—-
In silence
I don’t have the words
But I’ve been trying to find them
Because our existence is so fragile
My greatest fear
Is that those I love the most
Know it the least

I want you to know
That every drop of ink
Every stroke of the pen
Are tears shed for you
In laughter, in loss, in doubt, in comfort, in rest—-
In silence
Overflowing from a heart
That fears
That those I love the most
Know it the least

quote

2008-10-28T04:25:00.000-07:00

I so connect with this:
Jon Foreman (at www.myspace.com/jonforeman)
"...Lately music has been my compass: it's neither the map, nor the road but a steady constant that can help me make sense of the both.

Most of the time, the songs that I write are more honest than I am. Sometimes I don't play certain songs for people because I'm not ready for that sort of honesty.

I don't write many happy songs, at least not lately. Which is odd because I'm a fairly upbeat guy. So I've got a few theories as to why this might be the case

It might be because life wears down on you. And you lose that part of yourself.

Or it could be because the songs are the only place where these types of ideas can find a release- like a dream where your subconscious is trying to tell you something.

Or perhaps I don't write songs when I'm happy. You know, a celebration requires a few friends and depression requires solitude.

Either way songs have become my way of finding beauty in the midst of chaos and the pain. It's a way of finding redemption for mistakes and regrets that I have.

In this way I feel like the creative process brings me closer to God. As a creator of a song I get to take all these broken fragments of failure and chaos and weave together something beautiful and meaningful. Decay. Death. Pain. Fall. And if God is a songwriter then these fallen leaves of mine can be redeemed. "

advent conspiracy

2008-10-27T07:09:00.000-07:00

A few blogs back, I posed the question as to why we need to distract ourselves from reality with these guilty pleasures. In some form, we are all subject to this. Unless you are St. Francis, you probably spend some of your time surfing the web, watching movies, reading the latest New York bestseller or whatever as an escape. We also organize these kinds of activities into bigger things like professional sports which have enough viewers where people are actually paid to be physically fit and compete.
Then we have holidays and celebrations, which really have some good intentions where families gather and enjoy each other, united in whatever it is that has drawn them there for that moment. Oh how we have commercialized such things. I have heard professors say that the calendar is structured in such a way that it has some sort of rhythm, to constantly be refreshing us and reminding us of the gospel. Christmas, Easter, Pentecost, Advent, All-saints Eve, etc. Despite the best intentions of our forefathers, it has evolved into a maelstrom of constant consumerism. Think about it, we are always gearing up for the next big holiday so we can eat excessively, blow things up, and buy extravagantly for one another. As soon as Fall hits, the Halloween candy pops out, way in advance. Before you know it, the turkeys are everywhere and we eat so much we blame our lethargy on tryptophan (when scientists say it is actually just because our stomachs are so full). Then Christmas, oh Christmas. This brings me to what I want to get at.
Last year in church I heard about a brilliant movement, called the Advent Conspiracy. I love it, it’s bringing back the scandal of the gospel, tearing back the garish colors of Christmas and going anti-tradition by reminding ourselves that we lost the point somewhere. This movement says that we try something different. It talks about relational giving. To give something that really means something to those that are important to you, to make something or to offer up your time or skills. We tend to buy each other things that get hidden somewhere in the garage, or passed on to someone else. The fact that we have enough to give meaninglessly says that there is a perfidious imbalance of wealth. Why are we giving to those that do not really need anything? Because of love. There are other ways to show love that actually mean more. This is tough and it goes against everything that we have been doing our whole lives.
The reason I want to bring this up (other than that the pastor talked about it again this year) is that the whole world thinks it is in economic crisis. I know that I am going to hear things about how Christmas spending is down and how people can’t afford to have Christmas. Whatever. I would not be surprised if these new economic stimulus packages come out, with hopes that we’ll spend it on ourselves at Christmas or another holiday.
For more info go to http://www.adventconspiracy.org. They have more stuff and statistics, about how much America goes into debt each year to bring this season into our homes.
Some of the ideas I have heard are awesome. Like families volunteering their time to serve the poor during the holidays and spending their gift money instead on building wells through Living Water in places that do not have access to potable sources. A lot of churches are doing this together, and I think this is a neat way to see a little bit of sacrifice draw people together.
Or you can go to http://www.kiva.org and take part in the revolution of microfinance. Giving small loans to people who do not have money so that they can turn around and start a small business with it or think of it as sponsoring entrepreneurs that would never have a chance on their own. You get to hear the stories and progress of the people using your “loan.” This is the whole idea of teaching a man to fish rather than just giving a fish.
Or go to http://www.heifer.org and look at a gift catalog and buy someone livestock for their farm to make it a little more sustainable.
Or go to http://donate.worldvision.org and buy someone a goat, a shelter, or pay for a kid’s education for a year.
Another gift catalog… http://giving.samaritanspurse.org.
Even my Peace Corps buddy is into this, in a way, without even knowing it. He told me about kiva.org and how he requests that instead of receiving gifts for his birthday or Christmas that people support this organization with that money. In that way, he is spreading the word about these kinds of organizations and opening their minds up to it as well.
Personally, I think it would be awesome to buy a family a ger in lieu of my time in Mongolia. The winter is brutal, having a shelter is the minimum anyone should have.
What are your thoughts? I do not want to be hyper-critical of society and holidays. Holidays are great; let us draw together and instead look beyond our little worlds and instead of trying to forget reality, make a change. Doing this together, as families, as friends has a longer last impact. The website for Advent Conspiracy has some ideas for relational giving and other stuff, so check it out.
Oh, and let me know if you want to help buy someone a ger.

reverie

2008-10-22T05:36:00.001-07:00

What would you say
If I told you
Last night
I felt like going for a drive
Windows down, the cold wind
Sweeping through
Eyes closed
Yet seeing so clearly
Soaring, free
Breathing breath not my own
Maybe then I’d remember
And wake up to your eyes
Shake me awake if that’s what it takes
In reverie everything is so clear
And yet my vision is blurred
So real but beyond my grasp
In reverie revelry
Looking out the passenger window
Watching it all go by
Driving as fast as I can
To get there
The scenes so busy, so illusory
They all fail to stain my memory
In reverie
Wake me up to your eyes

souliloquy

2008-10-21T04:11:00.001-07:00

Haven’t talked to you
In a little while
It’s been wrong, all wrong
I kind of thought
That I could get by with just listening
After all,
What could you possibly want from me
When your eyes are the truth
They penetrate through
All our formalities, structures and isms
Your heart is the scent of purity
A blossom of love
And mine reeks
Devoured by its own insularity
I have to admit
That it is hard to give of yourself
When you are used to receiving
For this gift, this gift of pain
Looms, ever growing, overbearing
Entropy for the soul
How can I understand
That you carry these for me
That this weight
Is a mere haunting shadow
That feels so real
Your light is so much lighter
Oh, deliver me
Deliver me from this inertia in my spirit
No more soliloquies
I’m crawling back to you
One word at a time
So that I can continue to listen
For your whispers

paths

2008-10-21T03:30:00.001-07:00

Am I lost
Or just waiting to be found
I never thought
I wandered that far
I don’t even remember
When it all started
All I know is
That I can’t see home from here
And I’m unsure which way is back
I thought, I just thought
That I heard your voice in the distance
So I ran after you
Until the air was thin
And my lungs burned
As hot coals
And my sinews could muster no strength
I thought, I just thought
That I might see you
That I might hear you
That you might urge me on
Or send me home
I don’t even know
Am I lost
Or just waiting to be found

visions of the sea

2008-10-21T03:15:00.000-07:00

This is one from Mongolia. Never got around to posting it while there; was feeling some of the same things and so I remembered I had this written somewhere. Strange, I never knew what it felt like to be landlocked, always having the ocean within a few hours drive. It manifest itself in the longing for the sea; in this time I couldn't shake thoughts of Noah, Odysseus, and Jonah...for some reason I kept dreaming of the sea.

Landlocked
Yet visions
Of the open sea
Are more vivid
Than the sight
Of water
To the parched throat
Trapped without
The ocean near
Surrounded
Free to roam
The open plains
To climb unclaimed land
Worn and winded
Its peaks
Sanded and stolen
By the desert
As it drinks life
From the land
Creeping, rushing
Like a flood
Oh, drowning
Cast a line
Before these waters
Strand hope
Clench
The horse’s mane
As the sun
Magnifies the grace
Of this wild beast
There is no solace
Across the steppe
Landlocked
Trapped at sea
As a sailor
Desperate
For the sight of land
Landlocked
Oh, drowning
Cast a line
Before these waters
Strand hope

go get drenched

2008-10-06T08:06:00.000-07:00

It is unpleasant and inconvenient when you are in it, but nice to watch enveloped in the arms of shelter. It hides the sun with its sender and yet it gives off that magical smell when it is done.
Rain.
We do what we can to avoid it. We have umbrellas, raincoats, ponchos, cars with windshield wipers. We cover our heads with jackets when running from the house to the car. We stay inside when it pours.
I never really cared for rain because it always hindered me from doing what I wanted to do. Or it would just make things tougher to deal with. It made me feel trapped. In Thailand if I wanted to anywhere, I had to walk down the street and find some public transportation which would mean getting wet along the way. Most Taxis reject soaking wet people and it isn’t a good idea anyway because it seems that the air-conditioning in vehicles only chooses to work when its not hot, creating a shiverfest and leaving the driver with a wonderful set of odors to mask with cheap perfumes. Then there is the crowding in a bus, huddling close, but not too close to the other passengers. Funny, there are different rules for personal space, I find that people do not want to be pressed close to a soaking stranger—who knows what kinds of stuff is dripping from their frame?
Acid rain aside, I think rain has purifying elements for the soul and mind. What is about a storm that gets one thinking—is it the moodiness of the torrent that resonates with something in us? When I think back to all of the times I have been drenched it has led to some good soul searching. I remember the times when I used to walk to the university in the rain, it wasn’t a real rain, a mere drizzle by tropical standards, but the short walk was somehow cleansing. Maybe it is breathing in that wet, cold air when it has been so dry and hot for months.
I forgot about this feeling, this something, that is stirred when walking in the rain until I decided to brave the cold and wet to go pay rent because I refuse to drive a distance so short. It felt so good, so familiar, like something I had missed out on for so long.
So, I propose this. At least once in the rainy season, leave the umbrella at home. Let the elements drench your skin and let the beauty or whatever it is that strikes you, sink deeper and permeate into your being. I think we lose something when we separate ourselves from nature with our shelter and man-made things. I think that for a moment we are finally letting ourselves be vulnerable to God when we quit hiding behind the inferior things we make and let our parched souls soak up his wonder.

train tracks

2008-10-06T04:22:00.000-07:00

Oh, we’re in trouble
Not sure where to go
Can’t we just leave it all behind
Board the next train
With no set destination
As we nervously triumph
With the blare of its horn

You are for me
And I am yours
What more
Do we need?

The great beast fights inertia
as it pulls at the tracks
begging it to let it go
who thought this could be so freeing
when its path is determined
we’ll get off in some small town
maybe make new names
or we’ll head along some unmarked trail

You are for me
And I am yours
What more
Do we need?

Like a fish tangled in a net
Our lives twisted and caught
In a cobweb of wires and excess
Keeping us together
Or suffocating our deepest longings?
Oh we have to get out
You are not here alone
Take my hand,
Together we’re stronger

You are for me
And I am yours
What more
Do we need?

flags and Nascar

2008-10-01T04:43:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking about symbolism and the American flag. There is an entire set of etiquette in dealing with it such as it cannot touch the ground or it needs to be burned and it is always to have a light on it otherwise it is to be only flown between dawn and dusk. Most people know these things and they never really mattered to me until I was given the duty of hoisting them each day. I actually hate this responsibility because of the fear of the flag touching the ground as I attempt to attach it to the halyard.

A few weeks ago, a certain person on duty failed to fold the flags neatly after taking them down. I for one, am no patriot. I am the kind that grimaces on the fourth of July when we have to sing "Proud to be an American". Travel overseas and see the conduct of Americans or the way we are viewed and it makes you not so proud. Anyhow, I at least have the sense of respect for my country to do things right and not wad up the flag.

Just last week I was having trouble hoisting the flag due to the fact that the California flag had not been removed at night. The California flag sits below the American flag when raised, thus it was a tough task trying to put on the American flag while trying to keep the other flag from touching the ground. It was as if I needed another set of arms and hands. After a few close calls, I succeeded, very clumsily.

Later that morning a student participating in ROTC told me that while they were doing their PT, one of the officers, in a moment of pride for his country exclaimed, "Who the f*** is putting up the flag?!" This made me cringe in a moment of fear and embarassment at my feeble attempt to do things right. I guess I had not demonstrated enough pride and respect in the process to the point of offending someone proud to serve our country.

Does this seem a little extreme to you? Maybe I've just gotten a little defensive, but I think that this represents a misplacement of values. It is just a flag. Yes, it is a symbol for everything that America stands for. But it is just a flag. All of these federal regulations and the intensity of one's reaction to clumsiness says that things are out of order. Is the flag sacred? In my eyes we can fringe upon borderline idolatry. Yes, we need respect but still...

Think about it. Do we treat God's word with the same kind of respect? I see us putting it on the ground all the time. God's words...that seems pretty sacred to me, and to be putting it on the ground, what kind of disrespect is that? Not to mention for all of the people that died and fought for it to get to where it is today--in the hands of the common man in language that we can understand.

On another line of thought...what's the deal with Nascar anyway? One of my roommates was flipping through the channels and stopped there for a second. It just seems ludicrous to me in this time where there is a supposed "oil crisis" or the need for more fuels, that we sit amused watching it being guzzled up where nothing good comes of it. Black gold, just being used as cars circle for hours around a track. Waste?

All for the sake of entertainment, we waste. It occurred to me the other day that the wealthier a country, the more absurd the entertainment. I was thinking about how the US has so many t.v. shows and reality shows and game shows. Then I was thinking about how Japan is known for having random game shows that entertain us here. Why is it that we have to distract ourselves with such absurdity when the rest of the world is dealing with reality? Why the need to suspend reality?

confessions

2008-09-15T07:55:00.000-07:00

I confess that I sometimes just do not care because it feels like a burden no one can shoulder. Or is it that I care too much but just do not know what to do and so I choose to shut my mind off because there is a direct correlation between knowledge and responsibility.
I confess that sometimes I do not want to know what is going on. I confess that I choose to settle into this ever narrowing Americana tunnel-vision. So then I distract myself with things that really do not matter. When I open up the newspaper it is easier for me to turn to the comics or the sports or the healthy living but it is almost too painful to look at what is going on in the world—even when the newspaper you read arbitrarily filters out the WORLD section into a quarter of a page.
I confess that when I pick up a TIME magazine it is much easier to read about crazy new inventions or new movies or an up and coming writer or trend rather than a war that is ravaging the lives that number greater than the entire city I live in.
I confess that when I turn on the television it is a struggle to make myself turn to a news channel when I could lose myself in laughter of Cosby or Home Improvement re-runs. I confess that I rather read the running line of updates across the bottom of news channels and have it as quickly leave my mind as it races across the screen than watch a report on it.
I confess that it is easier not to care until someone brings it up in conversation and then to become passionate for a moment. I confess that these moments are disturbing and you hope no one will bring them up, stirring my heart that has felt overwhelmed for so long.
I confess that I want to cry when I see beggars and want to give them money even though I have lived my whole life being told not to. I confess that that feeling fades with all too much haste. I confess that I do not do anything to help these people.
I confess that I love getting letters from my sponsored children across the world but I forget to pray for them even though I know they live so simply and through much hunger and difficulty.
I confess I refrain from writing or saying things that I believe because then I will be held accountable. I confess that with the things that my eyes have seen that I am ashamed how idle my hands are, how soft and un-calloused they are—unlike my heart.
I confess that I strongly believe that when faced with a decision the harder choice is most often the better, yet I tend to favor what is comfortable.
I confess that I waste even when I see how it impacts the rest of the world. I confess that I detest plastic because it poisons the earth in the process of making it, recycling it, destroying it, or drinking from it but will never be able to completely quit using it. I confess that I think this is messed up. I confess that I think all we care about is convenience. I confess that luxury and convenience have been mistaken for necessity.
I confess that I really just want to do what pleases God and believe is right and yet am afraid of what that looks like.
I confess that I probably will not be any different after this, that I will quickly forget this.
I confess that God is just but sometimes we refuse to believe it and so I judge according to my own understanding. I confess that this justice means that there is no compromise and yet we think we can fudge here and there.
I confess that I do not love enough.
I confess I do not know where to go from here, that I do not know how to tie all of this together.

curious mornings

2008-09-09T07:29:00.001-07:00

By no means am I a morning person. Anyone that knows me has probably witnessed the fact that I take quite awhile to shake off drowsiness, which comes in the form of being slow to rise and grumpy upon waking. The Proverbs are filled with practical wisdom; one of my favorites is found in 27:14, “If a man loudly blesses his neighbor early in the morning, it will be taken as a curse.” I recall sharing this with my roommate my freshman year, hoping that he may glean something from this Biblical caveat.
As much as I may appear to despise the morning, I actually really like it. So far as I have shifted the hours that I work I have enjoyed greeting the start of a new day. I find that the sun is somewhat like me—it is not an instant riser—it takes its time. Or is it that it wishes to be respectful, to not be so abrupt in urging us out of our slumber?
There is nothing like the crispness of the dawn air; somehow it renews me as it fills my lungs with its purity, unadulterated by the flurry of busyness of the day. There is also a sense of wonder and curiousness as I see color restored as shadows are lifted. It is as if secrets are whispered for all to hear and yet I find myself among the few that are fortunate enough to be up and hear it. What is the secret though?
It is a curious feeling, one that you wish you could share with more. Yet, most of the time when we are up before the sun, we have busied ourselves excessively ALREADY to the point that the purity of the dawn air simply fills our lungs rather than actually permeating our being. The beauty in the way that the mystique of the morning lingers unexplained is so expansive that it is new each day and why lovers draw closer, for they have shared in an eternally ephemeral masterpiece that is theirs to keep.

follow?

2008-08-17T11:45:00.000-07:00

Ozzie Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest for August 17th starts out with the verse Luke 18:22 which reads, “Yet thou lackest one thing; sell all that thou hast…and come, follow Me.” [capitalization is Ozzie’s, not mine]

In this day’s reading, he talks about how Jesus has a lot for us which we listen to, yet not necessarily hear. Yet, there are those times when we feel like we are falling or for a moment you are stuck or it just smacks you in the face like a splat on your windshield. Mr. Chamber’s says those words are “amazingly hard” when they actually do get through to us. I think all of us are pretty aware of this, if you read the same Bible as me, there are some shocking things going on in there that we tend to rationalize away through saying it was hyperbole, analogy, or has a different meaning because of context or even get lost in the intellectualness of it all rather than looking to God’s heart.

What did strike me as I read this is when the devotional goes on and says, “Our Lord never pleaded, He never cajoled, He never entrapped; He simply spoke the sternest words mortal ears ever listened to, and then left it alone.” He then asks, has God ever said something challenging to me which I have clearly heard? I did not really want to hear these words because it places so much responsibility on us. Just the idea that maybe God has not specifically requested of us to sell all our possessions, but there is something else he asks before we are to follow him and then we are given a choice—to do it quick or turn away downtrodden by what we cannot do.

Jesus is pretty hardcore sometimes. Yeah, He is human and there is this balance between the guy that weeps for loss of friends and enjoys a good party from time to time to the guy that says to a disciple in Matthew 8 he should follow him NOW, not even taking time to bury his deceased father. Right before that he says to a teacher of the law that wants to follow him, “man, I made everything you see around you. I AM, and I spoke it into existence. Foxes, birds, ants—they all have a place to call home and yet I do not even have shelter. I am a sojourner; I am homeless. Are you sure you are up to it?” I could distract myself with the idea that Jesus was just trying to make a point of all that it costs to walk and talk with him. Yet, when I ask myself if I would be able to leave behind my responsibility to family I get a little lost in the practical aspects that need to be taken care of. “What will my family think? Jesus does not really mine right this very instant, he can wait a day or two. I cannot just leave them like that.” Do you think you could? Given the burial has not taken place yet, that means the loss is very recent and one would still be immersed in the pain and mourning.

On top of this He says, “let the dead bury their own dead” which at first glance can look extremely callous. And yet, the implications of this are deep—six-feet deep—if you will. The idea is that those that are not truly alive are concerned with the wrong things rather than following. This is pretty scary, but what does that say about me when I turn down the chance to follow up on what Jesus is speaking to me? That I am dead?

This is all really important to munch on, to let it set in, process, then regurgitate and ruminate on it. I am just not sure how. So many times, reading the newspaper or watching the news or talking with friends you get these crazy ideas or strong feelings about something. Or when reading the scriptures suddenly you get excited about a passage or something makes your blood pump a little faster because you never noticed that verse or thought about it that way. I think it appropriate to credit the Holy Spirit in pointing out things to us that we have seen a million times but suddenly are almost highlighted and illuminated so clearly. Given the perfect, holy communion between the persons of God, would it be too much to say that convictions or passions can be Him speaking to us [a little indirectly?]? This is scary because we get all into whatever it is at the time but not necessarily do anything about it. Where is the follow through, taking actions to our ideas and beliefs. To know something and not do anything about it is perfidy—we are breaching something that was entrusted to us in faith.

So many times I think, “man, I just want to follow.” Well, it is time to rethink, to look anew, to see all the offers Jesus has put out there, lovingly, without demanding.

There is hope though. Oswald Chambers says near the conclusion of the devotional, “Our Lord knows perfectly that when once His word is heard, it will bear fruit sooner or later.”

Lord, cure this leprosy of the soul.

It is time to follow.

reflection

2008-08-11T22:48:00.000-07:00

When I look in the mirror
I see too much of me
and not enough of you

envelop me

i have been holding back--
no more
when we lose ourselves in you
we find,
we find what we have been searching for

too much of me
not enough of you
too much of me
not enough of you
not enough of you
envelop me

only you
only you

present

2008-08-04T00:00:00.000-07:00

A lot of what we struggle with in life is knowing for certain that God is present with us. A lot of things I have read in recent times remind us that God is always here but it takes that something extra to really believe it even when we are blind to Him. As lonely as I felt in Mongolia and as many of the lows I had where I was doubting myself, I really felt close to God, as if He was near. The reality of it is that He is not any closer or farther now, but it has to do with my perspective. This is tough. I think it has to do with a dependency on Him. I am back and just trying to make a living to get through each month which seems almost a depressing existence to me, but it is only for the time being I tell myself. Yet when I was in Mongolia, I was completely out of my element, in a strange milieu that I did not know how to function in so I was in no way able to take a hold of the reins. I felt a deep sense of creativity where my spirit was almost crying out, praising God in its own ways, fueling me with ideas. The Word was alive and when worshiping with people I was moved even when I could not understand what we were singing. It did not matter, just looking around and seeing the intimacy that people share with God and their love for people was more beautiful than words could ever be put into a verse or chorus.

Here I am now, trying to figure out the next steps for the future. Have not felt the same kind of presence and creativity here though. Sometimes I hate this constant access to instant information. It is like there is always something that I could look up on the net, resulting in two things. The first is that I think some of us have a poorer retention of information because there is less of a need to store it. Also, I spend a lot of my free time surfing or reading random things when I could be reading with purpose or even more--listening. I think that is what is killing me. I wish I could cut off all access to TV and internet for awhile and just be quiet to see how much more of God we could see.

In the midst of this I have been struggling--why did I come back and am I making any difference where I am? Then I feel like I was spoken to directly in a way that is quite personal to my experience. It begins with a funny story.

I am at work, set up in this blue little tent on the lawn between two dorms on campus. The operation is to collect keys from guests that had been attending a Jesus Culture conference at Bethel church nearby. This is not really my job but it being teh weekend I get to do a variety of random jobs since no one else is around.

An Asian girl that quickly stood out as one of the leaders in her group came over to drop off her keys. In the process as I am counting the keys and checking them off of the list and putting them away she poses a funny question, "have you ever heard of dove eyes?" My response is, "um, no, why? Did someone say that about you?" as I wonder if she wants me to explain it to her as if someone had been complimenting her with it. Instead she throws it back at me saying, "No, I wanted to say it to you. It is from a song that says, 'I don't want to talk about you like you are not in the room...'"

I'm thinking, 'Great. This is incredibly awkward. This girl is hitting on me? How random!' Before I have time to fumble words around and dig my hands deep into my pockets as if either I can extricate myself from this situation or the right words lie there, she continues--rescuing me from a squirmy moment.

"I just feel that God has something for you, to have dove's eyes, to be uncompromising in your search for his presence. To be totally devoted to seeking Him. Have you heard of Misty Edwards? I'm really into worship music, she sang "Dove Eyes" which is about undivided devotion. I feel that God had these words for you today so I wanted to share them with you. Can I pray for you?"

I am normally someone that gets really uncomfortable in this kind of situation but I felt at peace and that it just seemed right--no weird vibes. Felt like it was directly for me. I looked up Misty Edwards, it turns out she is a worship leader at IHOP (International House of Prayer) which I think is totally awesome by the way. The lyrics are short and simple:

I don't want to talk about You like You're not in the room
I want to look right at You I want to sing right to You

I believe that You are listening
I believe that You move at the sound of my voice

Give me dove's eyes

Give me undistracted devotion for only You

But what do I do with this? I have been struggling with this. What does it mean? Does it go with what I have been fearing lately--that I worked too much at setting myself up with what came my way first and what was most convenient? Am I trying to take care of myself too much instead of relying on God to take care of me and honor that I am trying to follow a way of service and a Spirit-filled life?

Any words of clarity for me on this?

filthy stinking rich

2008-08-03T11:59:00.000-07:00

Everyone else is writing about it, so to write about it myself is to just be another voice in the crowd. But I cannot help it, it is so frustrating all this stuff with the high cost of oil and gasoline. I do not even have a car at this point but the effects spill over into increased cost of everything else (insert cheesy allusion to an oil spill here).
I read in the paper the other day about how Exxon made a record amount last quarter with 11.7 billion dollars—not just in sales, in PROFIT. There is a deep stench here that says that the rise in the price of gasoline is not necessarily correlated with the cost of oil because they are making more money than before despite the rising number of people seeking more fuel efficient cars and resorting to riding bikes. Something just is not right in this scene. One would think that with these factors playing in, that they would be losing money and having to make cuts and such just like everyone else. Instead, these massive companies are raking in the money while the rest of the world is finding ways to accommodate for the rise in food costs due to the rise in the price of oil. They continue to make even more while the economy suffers and we ultimately make less because more goes into practical costs which means we spend less recreationally which feeds back into hurting the economy. Why is it that these oil companies cannot afford to make a few cuts in profits, make a little less for the sake of the entire country?
Even more so we see this twisted, crude, slippery business when we see that the cost of crude oil per barrel has decreased by as much as 15% while the cost of gas at the pump has seen a mere 3% reduction. Is it just me or is it that the people that just announced record profits are now making even more because the “wholesale” price went down but their “retail” price has barely budged? (http://www.nypost.com/seven/08032008/business/oil_drop_brings_no_relief_to_the_pump_122827.htm)
While I am at it, another thing that bugs me is the yearly increase of gas prices during national holidays because they know that we are going to be driving all over to go on vacations and visit families. They have so much of a monopoly over our transportation that we cannot do much about it except grimace when we face the pump or try and find some special bus, train, or plane deal. Whatever happened to doing something like reducing the costs at these auspicious times of the year to encourage travel?
Where was I? Oh yeah, profits of the gas people. While these people are busy padding their wallets, the governator is busy cutting costs to meet California deficits. Thousands of jobs are being wiped out and judges that used to make $178,000 annually are going to receive $6.55 hourly which is the federal minimum wage but less than the state minimum wage of $8 per hour. While some of this may be good to help us increase efficiency, government jobs are incredibly important—we cannot really afford to have underpaid people running things!
A final thought. While we think we are struggling, the reality is that America is still incredibly wealthy, we are just having to budget a little more closely than we have had to in a long time. Smaller economies, poorer people are hit much harder overseas than we are as they watch their tiny incomes stay the same and the cost of living increase. Think of the people that already were impoverished or had little to eat, they have less now. We are in crisis.
I confess I am no business or economic or political expert, so if I am off-base or misinformed in areas, please hit me up with your thoughts because all of this is looking incredibly messy—enough for someone that usually tries to stay out of these topics to say something.

Silence and The Shack

2008-07-28T13:52:00.000-07:00

God is deeply involved in our lives, whether we acknowledge it or not, weaving themes that speak to us. I have noticed in recent years that there are times that these themes are represented in a variety of forms, but if our eyes are open and if we are paying attention we might begin to recognize what He is trying to teach us. Certain times in my life I have been plagued by thoughts only to have them addressed in a variety of forms, speaking deeply to my heart. Or there are other times where you almost feel inspired by something and yet subdued by reticence and doubt and then you open up the Bible and everything seems to be pointing to that or conversations with friends or anywhere.
I have read two books back to back that are seemingly very different and yet they grapple with many of the same things. Both are firmly recommended. The first is called “Silence” by Shusako Endo. It takes place in Japan in the sixteenth century. Missionaries had been met with great initial “success” in that the church was growing and people were following Christ, including important leaders. In a drastic shift, heavy persecution is doled out upon believers that are spared upon apostatizing by trampling upon an image of Christ. The protagonist is a Portuguese priest that sets out for Japan after hearing that his revered mentor had in fact set his foot upon the visage of Christ. This book is a fascinating journey that follows the questions and doubts that fill the priest. He is steadfast in his dedication and yet asks God over and over again why He is silent in the face of their oppression. As he struggles he learns to look at Jesus in a new way and how to listen for his voice.
The second book is also a work of fiction called “The Shack” by William P. Young. It is cleverly crafted as if the author is simply relating someone else’s story. The main character, Mack, struggles with his daughter being abducted and murdered in an old shack. Years later he decides to return to the shack and is met there by God in the form of three people that he has intimate, heart-breaking conversations. Again, this story struggles through doubts and pain and wondering where God is when everything comes tumbling down. Fascinating conversations. This book is also well written in the way things are described and the richness of it all as it comes together it is actually hard to stop reading. You find yourself going through it too quickly and wanting to go back and cherish and mull over some of the things. It is written in a deeply personal manner that makes you wonder if it is in fact fiction.
I hope to be changed by what I have read and to be aware of what is being spoken to me. I also see the power of literature that carries messages, themes, questions across stories that touch our hearts more deeply as they are more vulnerable as we grow attached to characters and identify with their lives.
Check out www.theshackbook.com for more information. Let me know what your thoughts are on it as well. Always open to more learning.
Open eyes.

Last days

2008-07-19T12:22:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking about death after catching moments where you see how abruptly life fades from something seemingly under control to out of hand, to weakness, to joy, to pain, to helplessness, to loss of hope.
It was an interesting contrast, and to even call it that might be somewhat of a misnomer, for in so many ways they paralleled each other. In my short trip to Florida I had the chance to volunteer at a place called “Give Kids the World” thanks to my cousin, who signed me up to help even before I got there because of the great experience he had in the previous summer. Give Kids the World is a place where families with terminally ill children get to go and kind of leave things behind for awhile, to have fun and forget what is to come. The place is a theme park all in its own. The cost for this little getaway is zero. At the center of the grounds is what they call the ice cream palace, a place where kids are allowed to get it even in the morning, even for breakfast. Big carousels and game rooms and a theater are just some of the things that I saw in my time there.
As we were on our way, I was somewhat somber, thinking of the implications and forgetting that this was a place of happiness to leave the sorrows on the backburner for awhile. The other thing that threw me off is that so many of the kids looked like they were fine, and yet somehow they were dying. They were all smiles and having a lot of fun, and I just could not help but feel pain for these people. Children are such joys and full of life, to be robbed of it is nefarious.
On the flipside, my cousin and I went to the nursing home in the retirement village my grandparents live in to drop off something for a friend of theirs. This man had gone into the ministry and then into teaching and administration. Yet here he was, a captive of Parkinson’s. Beyond the quivering hands, it had rendered his voice weak to a point that you could barely hear him and you find yourself just nodding and smiling foolishly, not wanting to make him have to repeat himself over and over again. This place was so depressing and weighed heavily on my spirit. I could not help but think about the accomplishments of these people, the lives that they have touched, all to be forgotten as they plod through the last days, weeks, months, years utterly helpless in spite of all they have done. Only to be pushed around in wheel chairs and have people not understand you. The people around are without the rich context of these people’s lives, left with the withering remaining moments. There is a certain sense of frustration that hangs in the air. Sometimes you can see it in their eyes, and yet others are gray and unfocused from resignation, surrender, to helplessness.
I wonder why it is that we have to exit life like this. Is it that we are to be humbled and realize our utter helplessness, to bring us to complete dependency, to physically embody human frailty before we enter glory? Is it a test of our hearts, to see what we do or how we live when robbed of strength and vitality? What about those that lose their minds, what is the purpose of this? I cannot see a purpose, only that we truly were not designed for this.
My grandparents are some of my biggest heroes because aged 79 and 82 they are still working so hard. They spend many hours of the day making calls to donors for Samaritan’s Purse, an NGO under Franklin Graham. On top of this they are very active in the community and still travel. They are so dedicated to service, to not simply sit back and rest. In fact, one of my last days of visiting them, my grandmother put in a 13 hour work day. They are the wisest people I know and have come through so much. They will be greatly rewarded when the King returns.
The commonality of all of this is simply last days and how they are lived out. I saw escapism, I saw joy, I saw determination, I saw resignation, I saw fear. What I could not see was myself in the same place, it is too hard to imagine how you get to that point. That may be the problem, that we fail to remind ourselves when we see these people that we will be there one day as well. The contrast between the happiness and sorrow was striking. One on hand, there is an underlying sadness beneath the surface of the fun for life cut short, while on the other hope for paradise underneath the layers of age and frailty.
How quickly we go from nursing to the nursing home. Forget not the brevity of life.

the taste of blood

2008-06-17T11:11:00.000-07:00

This represents a journey and freeflowing thought, unedited, without any preconceived idea or direction. It may not be cohesive or linear but it is a window into the thought process and what was really on the mind.

slay the moon
steal it from the sky
clothed with the night
we can roam, run, dance
each day is hope
as we step, climb
to an unknown life
even as we tire and decay
as subjects of gravity and entropy
and as our bodies are swallowed
our graves will taste no glory
for its lust for death
has been forever sated
by the taste of blood
unsoiled by the haunt of Hades

the mighty sepulcher beckons
all too familiar with our names
that once rested in its vices
to forget that death,
clothed as sheep,
keeps us from living
with its seductive whispers

Death, you've been defeated
you know the end result
in the final book
it has been writ
"it is done"
you shall not slay us
day by day
with our memory
we will hold on to love
for a day without love
is no life at all

this taste of blood
stings from the stains it leaves
yet, testament to lasting love
that gave life
so let us live,
live love
for, without love we are nothing

disintegrating

2008-06-14T10:59:00.000-07:00

I wanted it so bad, to be out of the vastness of that great desert land that I called home for such a short time. To be in conversation with people that know me well. To be in comfort. To speak and not feel dependent upon the pen. To not feel as if my existence only mattered if people cared and were reading what I wrote. To end the pangs of separation and distance from love that you try to ignore, only to find that they don't go away.

We all need a purpose, to discover our passions. There are so many books about this and those that tell us that a lot of times we kill ourselves pursuing other things and that is why we feel so un-alive. When I was in Mongolia, I felt alive in that I knew that each day was a step of faith and that I was surrounded by foreignness, ripe with learning opportunities. I felt dead in that I wanted people to share it with. Now things have been flip flopped, and the adjustment isn't as clear as transitioning from dry cold to humid tropics. It is so subtle. Relationships with family and friends truly sustain me and I just feel ever refreshed, soaking in their love and seeing how they live. Yet, the future seems so unclear. As excited as I should be, I find myself gripped with a bit of fear. #1 on my list is being united again with the one that I foolishly keep trying to play hard to get with distance. Yet, beyond the happy feelings is the need to take the next step or support oneself. Work for a year? Or two? A real job? Or a job where you can just save up? Or one where you get little pay but good experience?

Ah the uncertainty. I hate it. I love it. I am used to having options that seem amazing and then having to choose. Time to strap up and go. Take a few steps. Maybe run a little. The option that I tend to take doesn't seem to be there. My philosophy tends to be that the harder thing to do tends to be the right thing, because it will stretch you and make you grow. Yes, that may be hard to believe considering I am a comfort zone coach potato but at least that's how I think.

Why can't I just do what I want to do? Why do we have to play these career games where we take on things knowing that it will give us a chance in the long run?

My friend is running off to the Philippines and going to be serving God with the skills and passion that have been cultivated through his experiences, background, and just big 'ol heart. Am I jealous? Yes. Should I be? I know I know, I just went to Mongolia. But, there's this thing with being away from everything and knowing that you have to just live each day trying to serve God...there's something exciting about that. When it's not about the income, not about what you are going to do tomorrow.

I feel like I am disintegrating. Something comforting in knowing your purpose and passion. Oh, to know that.

Silhouette

2008-05-05T20:03:00.000-07:00

There was a darkness over my countenance yesterday and out of it came this one and the fragmented one (see next post). Everything felt meaningless as I realized as I was searching for jobs and that I didn't want any of it. We're all just trying to survive, make our time go by on earth with as many laughs as we can until we pass on. Afraid of where my pen would lead me in this dark place, I was given images that showed me where I stand as a lamp before my feet.

We are but silhouettes
In this shadow
Fearful
As we draw nigh
To the light
The darker, deeper shadows
Are cast
Driving us away
To feel with
Our fumbling hands
Calloused from reading
In the dark
With our hearts to interpret, yet
Infected with
Leprosy of the soul
As it silently devours.

Heal
Help our unbelief

I know to all else
I am but a silhouette
In the distance of the night
Yet you see my face
More than just a shadow
You know my face
The dark hides who we are
You see my face
The anonymity consumes every detail
You know my name.

Fragments

2008-05-05T19:58:00.000-07:00

Oh
We’re such fragile souls
Looking for a home
Like the cracked soil
From whence we’ve come
Afraid of crumbling
In your hands
Oh to be held
Is it worth the risk
Of being dropped?
Shattered,
Never to be gathered
Oh piece us together
Shatter us first
We’ve clung to nothing
Brittle and dry
Shatter us
Piece us together
As we fall apart
Not but broken shards
Jagged and unclean
Useless on our own
Shatter us
Piece us together
Show us where we fit in
Not as brilliant wholes
But as
Frag
men
ted
pieces
That together
Make this
Life mosaic.

Landlocked Odyssey

2008-04-17T19:55:00.000-07:00

I feared for long this day
that we would sail through these wretched waters
deceptively calm, beautiful
I knew what lies ahead
The Siren's song prances o'er effortlessly
Coated with honey to disguise such malice
Beckoning, calling my name, dizzying my mind
Loosening my grip, my determination
May I not sail in vain

Fetch the strongest cords aboard!
Tie me to the mast,
make the knots ever taut
Grant me the vigilance of Odysseus
Their lies coax
proffering gentle repose
they are a mirage of feigned hope
I am weary, my sails tattered and thin
wandering in this relentless desert
Although their chorus drowns all else out
Something constant as the ringing in my ears holds me
The very words that began this tiresome journey
If I veer now, it was all meaningless
May I not sail in vain

Tie me to the mast
your words bind me there
May this not be in vain
Lead me out of exile, into Zion
Abandoned all other hope
to search the seas recklessly
your words are all I have
Your oath, your covenant carries me
May I not sail in vain
as it echoes on and on
above the enticing tales of Babylon
"I will be found by you"

Inspired by Jeremiah 29:12-14

roots

2008-04-14T19:36:00.001-07:00

I don’t claim to have a green thumb or to even know much about plants. Yet for some reason an image rooted itself in my mind the other day as I was walking through town with my friend. Strange in that I haven’t see a whole lot of plantlife in awhile as well, so perhaps that is why it is so vivid in my mind.
I have been thinking about why it is difficult to change scenes, to move yourself from one setting to another when you have made that place your home. The longer we are in one place the more we grow accustomed to the soil and the overall milieu, adjusting in the right places so that we can live as comfortably as we can. With time we set roots in the soil so that we can take from the nutrients offered and begin the growth process. It is slow going but with time our roots go deeper, they thicken and expand, perhaps a parallel of what happens with the branches above the soil. We know how much water and sunshine to expect, how harsh the conditions of the weather are and everything else necessary to survive.
When it comes time to move we have to dig up the roots so that we can be moved from one soil to another. In this process the thicker roots remain intact, yet the frail and thin extensions of the smaller roots are usually broken and are left behind. No matter how careful, roots are ripped and torn, but what is important that enough is there that the plant can continue to glean nutrients.
When we move, if we have grown roots deep enough in a place, a part of us is left behind, no matter how well we say goodbye. We can do what we may to avoid any pain, but the truth is that some relationships and connections are fragile. A part of you will always remain where you left off. Some of us choose to amplify the pain and not trust that it is worth growing those smaller, more breakable roots in the new soil, knowing that the main roots are enough for us to live on. The fact is that we get less nutrients this way and are less intertwined with the soil. When it comes time to move again we remember that we didn’t grow those smaller roots so we just yank the plant out without digging up the roots because the strongest ones are thick enough to not be damaged. In reality, each time we do this even the thicker roots receive enough wear in tear that over time they begin to break down.

Soundtracks, peripheral vision, and a crumby analogy

2008-04-08T20:29:00.000-07:00

A series of scattered thoughts.

We all need a soundtrack to step to. One to guide us, one foot in front of the other. Tunes that demonstrate what we are going through, as if all the world can see you and understand. Other times we need the songs that slow us down and help us see what is going on around us. Then again, there are the beats, the lyrics, melodies that speed us up or keep us going when we so badly want to stop.

Every idea, every image that shows up in my mind or heart is only the very tip of what there is to see and to understanding. I see everything in my periphery, not enough to see in full and yet just enough to mystify me and keep me searching. Like a dog fascinated when it sees its tail in the side of its eye and is willing to chase it to no end, I feel like I have been running in circles trying to catch whatever it is in full view. This is life, this is why we keep living and moving forward (or maybe more accurately—off to the side?). We can’t settle for what we see now, there is always more. I will search desperately to just see a little more than I saw before, just to know more, for it was beautiful and it continues to haunt me. Although I look a fool for chasing my tail I know that what I saw out of the corner of my eye is a peek into what life really is and what is to come. It is ever elusive, no matter how quickly I turn to the left or the right, I am always a step behind, left with just enough of a morsel to fuel my curiosity.
We choose to ignore our peripheral vision, it is easy. So much easier to focus on what is straight ahead of us. It is more comfortable and we are used to it. Our peripheral vision isn’t great and you can’t exactly trust what you see, especially since it is the place of our blindspot. What if the truth was that hard to see? What if that is why we all have different ideas of it?
The way I see life is that we have only tasted a crumb of what is to come. The crumb was just big enough to ignite an insatiable hunger, so we continue through life searching for the place that the crumb came from. Some of us grow content in searching for more of those crumbs, as if Hansel and Gretel are going to lead us along, forgetting that a crumb is a smaller piece of something much bigger. The crumbs are hard to come by, but those that search are rewarded by what they find. For some of us the hunger grows so intense that we become as infants, putting any and everything in our mouth, showing no discretion and hoping that we will get lucky. We can grow blind in our search, not considering the evidence around the crumbs we find, unaware that they could lead us to more.
Is it more important to discover the source of the crumbs or to uncover the identity of the baker? Once we actually find where X marks the spot how long will our prized possession last? This is where we get confused, for the baker is fully capable of making much more of what we have tasted. Our senses will be overwhelmed with what is available once we realize that the crumb is actually a key that unlocks an unfathomable spectrum of secrets that will forever keep us in ecstasy.
The sad part is that we grow cynical in our search for the great cake, we come to think that there is none in existence. We think that the crumbs are all that there is, so we prize them and abuse them and they become subjects of our adulation. We forget that if there were crumbs that they have to have come from somewhere and that they are the result of someone’s work. Soon the different flavored crumbs become talismans that a select few horde, claiming understanding and knowledge beyond this realm. They deprive those who hunger for the truth and feed them their own fabrications of the crumbs, themselves long forgetting what the crumbs tasted like, creating inferior flakes that fade.

Priesthood

2008-03-05T20:08:00.000-08:00

Prayer isn’t meant to be on our own behalf. We are “like living stones…being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ” it says in 1 Peter 2:5. This is again repeated four verses later, saying that we are a chosen people.
What is this whole priesthood thing about anyway? I had always read this in reference to what the author of Hebrews talks about. He says that Christ’s death on our behalf, his expiating blood, is the ultimate sacrifice—perfect, so that no more blood need be shed for our sin (ch.8-10). Thus, Christ is the mediator between us and God, allowing us to enter the “Most Holy Place” (10:19). What a privilege, for only the high priest was allowed to under the old covenant, and at that once a year. This means that we are able to draw near to God in ways that were off limits before. I had always thought that this emphasized the individuality of our faith, that we can truly be in close relationship to the Father because of what Christ, the Highest Priest, has done for us.
Then I read “My Utmost for His Highest” by Oswald Chambers that changed my thinking. The entry for June 21 suggests something completely opposite about being a part of the priesthood. He said it is not about looking inward and working out our salvation. That is self-centered with the wrong perspective. Instead, we are to look outward.
I was pretty surprised when I read this, but then I started thinking about the priestly duties. They were a select group, chosen to serve the people by making sacrifices and atonement for them. Said differently, their life was dedicated not to themselves but to others. Their life was no small sacrifice, it is quite a duty to be responsible for so many people.
When Peter wrote about us being a priesthood, I think it was with this mindset (he was after all, living in the time of the temple). I think it is difficult to grasp as we don’t have that context or familiarity with all that a priest does. Chambers says that our focus needs to be on praying for the saints. This is the ministry of the priesthood, that we intercede on behalf of others, not ourselves.
Are we, as royal priests, working on behalf of others? Or are we ministering to ourselves, concerned about our own issues, thus denying our priestly duties? We are to be praying for one another. Christ has got your back, so quit focusing on yourself. Pray for the saints.
Let’s face it, we all need prayer. But if we spend too much time praying for ourselves, that is one man’s gain. If we pray for others then how much greater is the covering of our prayer? If we are all praying for our brothers and sisters then that means instead of you only praying for yourself you got your whole family lifting you up.
Pray for the saints.

"If you can?!"

2008-02-19T03:11:00.000-08:00

17…“Teacher, I brought you my son, who is possessed by a spirit that has robbed him of speech. 18Whenever it seizes him, it throws him to the ground. He foams at the mouth, gnashes his teeth and becomes rigid I asked your disciples to drive out the spirit, but they could not.”
19“O unbelieving generation,” Jesus replied, “how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy to me.”
20So they brought him. When the spirit saw Jesus, it immediately threw the boy into a convulsion. He fell to the ground and rolled around, foaming at the mouth.
21Jesus asked the boy’s father, “How long has he been like this?”
“From childhood,” he answered. 22“It has often thrown him into fire or water to kill him. But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”
23“ ‘If you can’?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for him who believes.”
24Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”
Mark 9:17-24

When I read this I thought that the way the man asked Jesus, “If you can do anything…” was legitimate and in a way trying to be respectful towards him. After all, his disciples were not able to drive the demon out whereas Jesus had given them the authority to do so (ch. 6).
When you read v.19, Jesus almost seems annoyed that despite his presence, teaching, and miraculous works that people still don’t quite get it. I read that as, “What else do I have to do to make you believe?” Yet, Jesus is always compassionate, pitying the poor and the broken that can turn no where else. When you continue reading with the tone of v.19 in mind and read v.23 I couldn’t help but see the situation in my mind, picturing Jesus’ face and tone of voice. “If you can?!” he asked incredulously. “Are you serious? What kind of question is that? Don’t you know that everything is possible for him who believes? If you really want something, then really ask for it. Ask boldly. Don’t say ‘if you can,’ of course I can. Let me direct the question back to you, can you—can you believe?”
“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”
If you read on Jesus drove out the spirit—a deaf and mute spirit—with such power that it shrieked. There is real power here, especially when you consider that at the sight of Jesus the spirit started freaking out (v.20). Jesus in the flesh, with all this power, and still belief comes into question.
Do we pray like the father of the demon-possessed child? How many times through the gospels does Jesus say that if you believe anything is possible? He says that if we ask, then the Lord will give. Do we really ask? Or do we just timidly say, “um, if its alright with you…I mean, I know you can do anything but…only if you have time” Do we pray and ask boldly or are we saying “if you can?”
Read through the gospels, Jesus healed the people that had the temerity approach Jesus no matter the inconvenience. People bore a hole in his roof to get to him—that’s risking ticking somebody off real bad. Blind men were calling out his name to the point that people were telling them to shut up and go away. Their determination got Jesus’ attention, rising above the din of the crowd. They were desperate.
If he were here where we could see him in his physical body, do you think we would talk to him the same way that we pray? I doubt it. Would our pleas get lost in the crowd, or would we find a way to be heard?

A Return - A response to "Flotsam"

2008-02-06T23:50:00.000-08:00

I returned to the vessel I once abandoned—
leaving it a ghost ship—
after drifting as flotsam for quite some time.
My hands, now unfamiliar with the ropes.

Docked, lost in the expanse, fearful--
hoping to find my place in the celestial sea
before I take to the winds.
Instead the sextant lay untouched, collecting dust.

Sever the anchor!
Although reticent, no longer content
to float in familiar waters.

Pull the halyard, hoist the sails!
Let the breath of Poseidon carry us;
may the currents pull us in their invisible paths

clenching the helm, unseen destination
Knowing naught in the nautical vast
My map, along with my fears, is swept off deck

The sky reflects what fills my veins.
Alone I will sail through the night
with only the moon to haunt me
and the stars to keep watch
until the sun steals their scattered glory.
I will find you.

Though the squalls suggest a different course,
though my soul may threaten mutiny,
and though the waves toss and tangle
in their nets of doubt and destruction,
I will find you.

Forgotten

2008-01-10T22:22:00.000-08:00

This ironically came out of me while walking through the concrete jungle (Bangkok). Weird.

Leaves fall from above
Taking with them shards of shade
Allowing the sun to poke through.
They pattern the ground
in their own scheme, their own design
Shaping, shifting in the slightest wind
A breathing mosaic,
Alive in these brittle castaways.
their each move is a dance
in all of time
never performed twice
to only live on in their own memory.

Frail sails without vessels
travel the winds, trading secrets.
they land ashore, leaving imprints
etching lightly into the sand
tales of wonder and wander,
treasure maps to coves undiscovered.
only to be erased by the wind,
each new day a canvas
leaving yesterday forgotten.

barren

2007-12-05T18:56:00.000-08:00

I am convinced that we can learn from nature which we constantly overlook this time of year as we stay inside as much as we can to shield ourselves from the chill. A theme that developed in my mind last fall finally emerged...

Less than two weeks my friends, less than two weeks. I am not sure what to do with myself.

Well, here goes:

the trees catch flame
as soon as the heat fades.
they burn bright, consumed
until they go out in a blaze of glory.
only to be left bare,
left naked in the cold
to remind us of their gaunt limbs
that are covered year-round.
forgotten beneath their lush, verdant beauty
exposed without a place to hide
yet all the more beautiful--
strong, in their weakest season
to endure the harshest conditions.
with hope, with hope--
after the white desert melts away,
after the treacherous winter,
must come spring.

winter takes its toll
many wither and fade
the pangs of cold overpower
desolate; life is distant

rooted in memory

bereft of breath

yet life thrives in the deathly quiet

forced to vacate the safety of the umbrage

the last leaves hold fast

they cling to the limbs

as a young child to a mother

yet they are released into the wind

not as tears, but to remind us all

to shed our cover, our shame

in your periphery

2007-12-05T18:55:00.000-08:00

who could have foretold
the friendship we have made
the paths we trod are so different
at times we walk in the same shadows
i don't know if you saw me there,
next to you--you thought you were alone
i saw you fall--you wouldn't take my hand
as you shook of the dust and pressed on
i confess to you, but i think you know
the streaks on my face were not from the rain
i saw you run when you had nothing left
i saw you laugh in the light for them
don't think i didn't see the sadness in your eyes
your strength is your only weakness
let your weakness be your strength
i saw you heal their wounds
with the beauty of your soul
as you gave all your love
then shuddered, shivered in the cold
hoping to one day be loved
you poured yourself out
and took nothing in
let me fill your shoes for awhile
and carry the burden you think i can't see
my heart is heavy from bearing it with you
i'd do anything to steal your pain
don't wither away
don't let the ghosts of your past haunt you
don't forget who you are
don't give up on love
stop
let yourself be filled
so that you can dance again
upon hope without pain

untitled

2007-12-05T18:53:00.000-08:00

I don't know why I'm posting this. I don't know why I've written it. I don't know why there's bad rhyme in it when I don't like to rhyme. I don't know why I'm being open. I don't know why I can't come to terms with leaving. Well here goes. It's not well written it just spilled out of me.

Tell me there's something wrong with me

That I'm blowing things out of proportion

Right now I can't think or see clearly

Flooded by tears and emotion

Tell me it's going to be all right

That really I'm just confused

I long to hide in the night

And in its peace find refuge

Tell me that later I'll laugh

That I shouldn't worry

As I move across the map

Will you remember me?

Tell me I shouldn't feel this way

That I needn't cling

You're a rainbow in a day of gray

Please please won't you sing?

I can't shake the thought of losing you

Whether it's just for now or forever

Its all the same

And I can't, I won't, forget

Tell me we'll meet again

Tell me that it will be the same

Tell me that time doesn't change

Tell me you'll be all right

I can't shake the thought of losing you

Whether it's just for now or forever

Its all the same

And I can't, I won't, forget

Dan in Real Life

2007-11-18T17:32:00.000-08:00

When I saw the preview for “Dan in Real Life” it looked like a decent family movie, easy to watch as it seemed to exude warmth and laughs. I thought I might go watch it but it did not strike me as a movie I would go out of the way to see but I was curious about Steve Carell. I thought of him as a funny actor after seeing him in Anchorman as the hilariously stupid “Brick” and yet was surprised when I watched “Little Miss Sunshine.” He did very well at playing the depressed-and-suicidal-because-of-unrequited-love professor, he was human and sensitive.
Personally, I hate those kinds of movies where you spend the whole movie worrying, grimacing, and flinching for the protagonist because they do dumb stuff and of course everything possible goes wrong. Perfect example? –“Meet the Parents.” True it has its funny moments but for me it is not an enjoyable film. Yet, watching the main character in “Dan in Real Life” is bearable because he is so human and you can identify with his struggles and frustrations. He finds himself in incredibly awkward situations and everyone in his family seems to be frustrated with him, including his kids. Yet this takes place in a family reunion vacation so he cannot escape the glares, sighs, and comments.
He does it to himself. What do you do about love when your brother is dating the one you cannot quit thinking about? Yet it is this that helps him understand and identify with his daughter as they go through similar feelings that he may have forgotten. It is about love and family and how the first almost causes him to destroy his relationships with the latter. But it is the family that truly loves and picks you up and continues to support you even though you have neglected them. It is the beautiful irony that he is an advice columnist that seems to flow with wisdom about family life that sets the foundation for the frustrations and questions. Why is it that he can so easily say the right things to anyone outside his family, but when it comes to his daughters he is constantly messing up?
Steve Carell plays a believable, likeable, vulnerable character. At one point at the family’s talent show he is playing a song with his brother, Dane Cook who’s trying to impress his newfound love, and adds a verse at the end—his voice is trembling and weak and it wrenches your heart. I almost cried, but I fought it. Something about the real sadness at that moment, he seems to let on for the first time about the pain of losing his wife.
Dane Cook surprised me too. He plays the typical shallow brother that always has it going with the ladies but he is down to earth and likeable as well. What I could not figure out was him with Juliette Binoche, she seemed to look way older than him. Also, sometimes I felt like some of the scenes she was laughing at Steve Carell the actor and not the character if that makes any sense. My other objection is the way the movie ended as it seemed to avoid the conflict of the awkwardness of Steve Carell successfully stealing his brother’s girlfriend. It seems that through the movie Dane is trying hard and moving away from his playboy ways and then reluctantly settles for returning to his old ways. Steve approaches him to apologize and he says, “hold that thought” and goes for the convertible driving chica that had been Steve’s date previously. I know that they had to end the story somehow but somehow I think this could have been dealt with differently.
I recommend this fun, family oriented movie. It is clean without any profanities that I can remember and minor sexual references that are tame compared to most any movie out there.

Catch

2007-11-11T20:45:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I feel like we are playing a game of catch. Catch requires a minimum of two people working together to create a flow of catch and release. We throw the ball differently each time—although the people that do it for a living have a machine-like precision—which usually requires the other person to adjust. (Now, bear with me as I try explain this silly little metaphor which is actually more of a picture in my head that popped in there a few years ago and some reason had lay dormant until now.)

Suppose we are playing this game with our dad for the first time. He is ever patient with us, encouraging us so that we do not despair and give up. We look stupid as we fumble the ball and drop it the first million times he throws it to us. He says, “Don’t worry about it son, have your hands ready and keep your eye on the ball” as he throws it so that it requires little of us to actually catch it. When kids first learn they have to develop their reflexes—how many of us have seen kids grab at the ball in the air after it’s already landed? Then we learn what to do with our hands, you cannot have them stiff otherwise either your fingers get jammed and hurt for weeks or it just bounces off. They have to be relaxed and yet ready to snap, grab, and cradle at the right moment.

Once we get the hang of it—you know, when we get really good and there is not much that can wipe that huge grin off of our face—he changes it up a little. He starts throwing it at different distances with more or less power and speed. We go, “what am I supposed to do now?” as the ball no longer lands in our hands but five feet in front of us. Soon we begin to figure it out, “oh, I actually have to move to the ball now.” This makes it all the more complex, having to figure out how to factor in all of these things—you know, wind chill factor, not running into trees, not tripping on roots or sprinklers, and so on and so forth. Then to make things worse—or better?—he throws it harder and it comes at you faster than you can say ouch and it hurts more than a dozen bee stings. As your hands swell and throb he then throws so high up that you cannot help but wince as you squint into the sun and can only hope it does not hit you in the face.

Then he says, “Go long!” And off we run.

Why am I so rigid?

Why are my legs so stiff?

Why is it like my feet have buried themselves underneath the grass and have taken root?

Why am I so reticent?

Why can’t you throw the ball right to me where I want it?

You mean I have to run? But I’m tired, my hands sting, my lungs burn, my legs feel like they are going to give out—or rather, they will if I choose to go for it. What do you mean I can do it? How do you know? What? You’ve done it? You’ve been in my place and know how it is? Is that how you are so patient and good at coaching me along in this?

He knows what we are capable of and thus pushes us beyond what we though we could do. It is hard for me to believe that he knows these things, but I have to. I have to just believe that my little legs will take me the distance, the only thing spurring me on is his voice. In the end, I want to know that I ran as hard as I could to try and make the catch to make him happy. He knows how much I can handle and if I do not make it, maybe I did not push hard enough. I do know that when I trip on my own feet or get clothes-lined by a branch or just plain screw it up that he loves me all the same. Then when I am sweaty and thirsty, “hey, good job out there, lets get some lemonade.”

#23

2007-11-11T16:42:00.001-08:00

I watched the Number 23 the other day because when I saw the previews for it in the theater it seemed intriguing. I have also always been interested in Jim Carrey's abilities to play different kinds of roles outside of Ace Ventura and other slapstick stuff.
This is a movie of obsession and paranoia that drives the person crazy. Carrey plays a pet control guy who goes after a dog that gets away from him. This makes him late for picking up his wife who while waiting wanders into a bookstore called something like "the book of fate" which of course is kind of foreshadowing. Her eye is caught by a red book on the shelf in the back with the same name as the movie. The author? Toppsy Kretts. She reads the book and when Carrey gets there she tells him to buy it and read it. He laughs it off but does so anyway. This begins the tale.
From then on he can't seem to get it out of his mind. He wants to keep on reading, and the obsession begins as he seems to identify with the narrator. So many parallels make him wonder and begin to dig through his past. He also notices that the number 23 really does show up everywhere like in the book. His birthday, SSN, the house #, all of them either have the number in it or add up to it.
I could keep going but it would take too long to recap the movie. The obsession drives him crazy and makes him paranoid as he dreams of himself killing his wife or that he is being taken advantage of. It is an entertaining movie as it shifts between Fingerling--the character in the book--and the real Jim Carrey. It is a little surprising at how many things contain the number twenty-three but when you think about it really is inconsistent. They sometimes add numbers up, sometimes you reverse them, sometimes you are dividing or multiplying. Basically, if you look hard enough you can find a way to make almost anything add up to 23.
Also, the movie ends with Jim Carrey saying that it is just a number as if to explain it all away and that he is over his obsession. Yet the whole movie is tied together on fate. He was destined for what happened to him. The reason his wife finds the book is that he was late. The reason he was late was because the dog delayed him. The dog was witness to his murder. So, what really is the point of the movie? It seems as if it is clarified at the end when the scripture verse Numbers 32:23 is shown which reads: "...and you may be sure that your sin will find you out." Yet that contradicts with how the narrator concludes. Only leaving us with questions.
I liked the way the movie is shot. Its very cool and artsy and dark. In the least it was entertaining, but I don't know if I would recommend it.
I felt dumb when I realized what "Topsy Kretts" really meant. Sounds a lot like Top Secret(s). Duh.

bluelikejazz

2007-11-11T16:23:00.000-08:00

I picked up the book Blue Like Jazz at the beginning of last week simply because I had heard so much about it. It seemed like everyone was reading it so I decided to see what the big deal was. Honestly, I did not want to like this book but I did. The author's candid honesty and humor just make the book flow very well and make it so that you never want to put it down. Sounds like a cheap action novel doesn't it?
I would call it autobiographical in a sense, which I was really not expecting when I picked it up. He is very willing to admit his mistakes and sometimes surprises you with the comments he makes about people and the thoughts he was having. I wonder if the people that he knew when they read the book were offended or surprised at all. Who knows?
I like that he is willing to grapple with questions of our faith that so many of us have and is real about it. It appeals to our postmodern generation that is no longer satisfied with facts but we want to feel what we believe. I think that many of us can easily identify with his writing. It got me when he said that we all love ourselves too much and are not good at loving others. At the same time he says we have to love ourselves in the right way and be willing to accept love if we are to truly be able to love. I thought, man, how true!
His struggles are real. A lot of us have trouble knowing how to share our faith or are scared of what people will say or ask us.
I like how he does not have it all together and how he's always learning, learning from the people you would least expect it. I like how he talks about getting a beer and smoking a pipe--yes Christians do this! Christians think they cannot do it or people think that Christians judge them for doing that. This guy Don Miller is real, he has been through the fundamentalist stage and made it out alive. He understands that our faith is something we share and live out. He has a sense of humor and is artistic. He is willing to listen but does not stray from Jesus being the only truth.

July 7, 2006 - No Longer

2007-09-02T23:57:00.005-07:00

No Longer
*Kind of an ironic time to post this, considering I'm far away. But it was time to post something (that I wrote awhile ago when it would have made more sense) since it has been awhile.* (Pardon the overusage of the phrase "no longer")

Wave to the tide
It no longer conceals your eyes--
they say more than I ever hoped for
a glance takes us to a place where dream and reality collide
no longer faceless silhouettes searching in the night

wave to the tide
I no longer wait for it to bring word from your shore
in bottled messages I no longer confide

wave to the tide
with it goes the doubts we couldn't hide

your eyes
your eyes
your eyes mend the most tattered soul

May 21, 2006 - Michelle

2007-09-02T23:57:00.003-07:00

Michelle
for my sister Michelle...written...perhaps a year ago, just found it again.

I wish you knew

How much I respect you

For your happiness through the struggle

That reduces so many to rubble

We get lost in eloquence

Arranging words in perfect sequence

So much more difficult for you

Placed by God in conditions you can’t undo

and blessed with a double portion

of the greatest beyond emotion –

amazing patience and love

that you continually show us.

Even when we don’t understand

Or give your words second chance

What saddens me is that you may never know

The depth of admiration I could never show

Sorry I haven’t tried harder to listen and identify

Through you God has elected to testify

To teach so much more than the most erudite

I wonder what other truth you hide;

any other answers for you to illumine

in this darkness where we forget what it is to be human?

May 15, 2006

2007-09-02T23:57:00.001-07:00

Please pardon the lack of paragraphs.

For sometime now I have been reflecting on what it means to be a Christ-ian. Actually, no, I have been thinking about that title. I think that it is in fact, powerful but we do not think about it, hardly ever--at least I do not until recently. I would say that it has been corrupted because of lack of attention. An Evangelical Christian tends to refer to someone "born again", rescued from damnation by Christ's expiation of sins by grace granted to us. Once born again, one enters into "shar[ing] in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light" (Colossians 1:12). It seems that today what is important to people is entering into this community of believers, as if you have a new identity because you are now a part of this group. This brotherhood is powerful, it is a place where can learn from each other because we find our identity in Christ. To me, Christian means identifying myself with and in Christ which supersedes all other forms of identity, I am made new. Now, at this point you are nodding your head and saying “yes you are stating the obvious so get on with it.” Yes this is obvious and this is the way it should be, but is it really? Too much of what we do is associated with other followers of Christ and what they do and have done and rather than with the Word, Logos. Too often for one to be a Christian it is almost as if they have to live by the standards set by other Christians because they have established their identity. This seems skewed. It is as if we are forced to have to find our identity within the group of believers before we can find who we really are in Christ. I am not on a mission to bash anyone. I am just realizing how wonderful and powerful this concept is when we call ourselves Christians because I had been thinking about the suffix that comes after Christ. It just reminded me of how we say we are for example Italian and the –ian suffix means that we identify and associate ourselves with Italy. Yet I see a problem with using this as an example, because when you think of an Italian you will think of the other Italians you have met and the general stereotyped understanding of them rather than something deeper. I also want to make clear that I am not fighting against community, I just think it is sad that the identity of Christ has been tainted by human standards.

Return to your roots

Recall your identity--

Revealed by His Image

Replaced by the Son of Man

Rescued from frail humanity

Redeemed.

May 06, 2006

2007-09-02T23:56:00.001-07:00

I've been thinking about how melancholy--especially in nature--seems so beautiful and somehow resonates with my inner being. Each person is probably drawn to different aspects of nature or what they consider beautiful. I also have been thinking about how so much poetry is descriptive and while that is beautiful, much of it is more than that because it describes something else. In sum, sometimes we may really be drawn to various scenes of nature, because it is in fact an image of our soul or our inner condition. Maybe this is excessively introspect or self-revealing but this came about as I was trying to figure out why I will start out describing something and tie in these other elements at the end of a poem.

Blogs are whatever you make them right? Ok, so here goes for random on a very different note. My other thought for the day:

This is a very loose and weird analogy. Today I began to think that our faith or relationship with God is like brushing our teeth. At least for me. I know this has its weak points, but let me explain why I began to think this. The actual brushing and other teeth care stuff is comparable with praying, reading your Bible, be real with God...plain seeking after Him and growing in your faith. Sometimes I can go for awhile without really doing any of that and think that I'm doing pretty well, not brushing my teeth but avoiding eating sweets and things that will give me cavities and are bad for my teeth. Yet, this is still bad. On the other hand, there are the times in life when I take very good care of my teeth as far as cleaning yet go crazy on things that hurt them like the aforementioned "sweets and things". So that's not good either because my teeth are still not being treated well. So I could expand further, but that's as far as I wish to take it for now. This is pretty lame, but I thought I would post it as it was such a random thought that came to me as I was sitting in the car.

By the way, I love it when people leave you a comment on your blog to say hi but don't read what you write. I am guilty of it, but I try not to.

*******Added (5/14/2006)********

P.S.

Reflecting on what I wrote I realized what I sounded like with my final comment. I think I owe an apology because it was not nice in its tone. I think I was frustrated and I realize, yes it is hard if you want to communicate with someone or in a hurry or just want to say hi. I was frustrated because I seek feedback on what I write, more so on what may seem less accessible to people--poetry. Then I thought about how it is selfish to think that people should take the time to try and figure out what you are writing about and reflect on it. I also admire those that just write, they do not need people's comments. They write freely and confidently and there is no dependency. Thank you all of you for everything. And sorry if I was rude.

April 21, 2006 - Memories

2007-09-02T23:55:00.001-07:00

[setting: koh samet december 2005]

The waves tire of trying to reach the shore

The confident roar replaced by weary sighs

The complexion of the coast fades

Heat gives way to melancholy breeze

Pale incandescence shudders on the quivering obsidian sea

Memories strewn across the blindfold

Scattered lights as spilt glitter haunt the silhouette

Faint intermittent glimpses from the outside

Bright enough to mesmerize

The shards of past out of reach yet in sight

Placed by you and me

Each as a glowing flare

Testimony to all we shared

For now I gaze at these memories

Wondering if on the other side, you see

March 28, 2006 - Sequestered Souls

2007-09-02T23:54:00.004-07:00

sequestered souls
tonight the sky was dark

there was a gash in her veil

a lighter blue of topaz shone through the night's torn fabric

revealing a wound unknown, unseen, unfelt

stumbling through the dark

the mist glistened in the sparse light

the shadows, they just listened

as they sought refuge behind outstretched arms

a brisk zephyr rushed by

numbing all it came into contact with

wounds neglected, not permitted to mend

leaving souls sequestered

alone, in vessels that refuse to give voice

March 21, 2006

2007-09-02T23:54:00.003-07:00

Spiritual Oppression
I had a thought a couple of weeks ago while in discussion with a friend. We were discussing spiritual warfare and eventually got around to the manifestations of it. I began to wonder, in our mindset that is so influenced by the enlightenment thinking of the 18th century, what is the spiritual warfare that goes on in America? As a culture that downplays the supernatural and is so reliant upon what can be proven and worships science, are we blind to spiritual movements because we cannot measure it or see it under the microscope?

At this point, you are thinking about how you have heard this before and this is nothing really new—common sense and something that is trite because we always reference it. My question is this, is the spiritual oppression and warfare that very thing that is so inextricably bound to our thinking—that which explains through reason and scientific proof? I wonder if we limit evil to supernatural phenomena that sends chills down our spines or the essence of fear. Could it be more subtle, giving the slightest nudge that causes us to go in a certain direction in our thinking? Am I giving too much credence to the opposition? I do not know.

Lending to my point/question is another thought that I had, which may again seem so obvious but I had to bring it up and see what others think. In my rumination on the topic of spiritual warfare I wondered about the limitations of spiritual oppressors. I began to think, everything must function under the system in which God created. I do not know if my reasoning is correct, but I see it that since God created the whole universe, everything is ultimately subject to His authority and the setup that He put into play. This led me to think that evil spirits are limited to the laws of physics and everything that holds the universe together. God is the only one that can make something happen that is above that system, one that defies it and happens anyway. He can make things that cannot be explained happen, He can cause miracles and whatever He pleases.

Why is this thinking significant to me? Because, if these thoughts have any sense to them at all it says a lot of science and the modern world. I am wondering that because evil is bound to the universe’s metaphysical system, are its movements occurring right before our eyes but we do not perceive it as such because we can provide a scientific explanation? If this is true, this culture is being struck with a double-whammy. Not choosing to be cognizant of spiritual oppression is of advantage to the enemy because it gives it free reign.

Feedback is very welcome, criticisms encouraged. I want to know what you think and if my thoughts are totally flawed or heretical. I want to grow in my learning and understanding, input from brothers and sisters only helps as we challenge each other. Challenge me.

March 02, 2006

2007-09-02T23:54:00.001-07:00

searching for something

hoping for nothing

February 11, 2006

2007-09-02T23:53:00.002-07:00

Truth?
Sometimes God implements themes into our lives because we simply cannot seem to see the point He is trying to get across. Looking at it after He has thrown the same thing at you from multiple angles is so interesting--especially when you realize how long it has taken you to finally get it. The current theme is honesty--in who we are and what we do. Christianity has become such an image thing where nobody is real with one another and so we feel so much like failures when it seems like everyone else has "it all together." The Christian image bears little or no verisimilitude. Truth is macabre and so to share it has become a faux pas. Truth will shatter your paradigm, it will break you but you will be so much better for it. So this theme had been running through my life and I was completely cognizant of the fact that I should do something about it. I had proven to be rather adroit in successfully dodging the issue continuously until I grew weary and could hear the ricochets coming closer and closer. Then I heard a speaker talk about how we are so incredibly bound by the gyves of Christian image that we cannot even be honest with God anymore. I was astonished, I could not believe that he was speaking on the topic of honesty because it had been the very thing I had been talking about with people and thinking about. I have come to realize that I had not known how to talk to God for a long time because I did not feel worthy of His grace and had to work out my mistakes on my own before I could approach Him in humility. I thought once I had accomplished that then I could attain the holiness that everyone else seemed to bear. Malarkey--or as some as you might prefer to say, BS!--we are all fallen, we all struggle and we need to share in that together. Quit perpetuating these fallacies.

Where am I going with this, what is my agenda? I have none but to share this self realization because I know that I have little to share that will be perceived as a new thought that moves people to change and am fully aware that this is not a new thought. Just one of those times where something in my life moved for once.

I recognize the banality of the subject as Christians are always seeking to inspire one another and write formulaic answers to stale faith, but how can I help but write of something that has touched me?

A question to end with: when we feign an image and our struggles are so surreptitious, does our worship, prayer and praise become adulation rather than true adoration? I just wonder how we can really fully worship God if we are dishonest withourselves, the community, and Him? Maybe I am wrong, but I see it as showing contempt by giving a blemished sacrifice. I had this thought after reading Malachi.

January 23, 2006

2007-09-02T23:53:00.001-07:00

I meant to clarify this last time, but it slipped my mind. I just wanted to say that although sometimes what I write may seem to be hopeless, confused, discouraged or have tinges of nihilism, I say all of these things in the context of my faith. At my very core, I know what I believe and I try to do all things based on that foundation. Most of us have struggles in our lives and faith and we have to find our way to resolve them as we seek community with others to share and be broken with so that we can help each other up. Because I know this, I do not feel the need to drop in that line of hope at the end like we tend to do when talking with those that are hurting. It is more real and honest if we say how we really feel and what we really think, because deep down I know God is there in His strength and compassion. I believe that thinkingwriting without acknowledging the pain and simply hiding in hope can stunt your growth. God knows when we are struggling because the Spirit intercedes with groans for us, and for us to not acknowledge what we are going through is not being honest with Him. Choosing to not resolve something completely and just push everything aside is the superficial copout to pain.

I realize that I have made many assumptions and so at least one of them is clarified. I feel right now I should insert a personal creed or declaration of faith that people can refer to, hehe.

Thanks to all who posted things in response to my last blog, it really is nice to get your support and encouragement. Yes, we all have a VISA (for travel, not creditcard) for earth, but we don't know when it will expire because our citizenship is elsewhere. (talk about cheeziness...hey, I'm corny, can I help it?)

Thus I will conclude with something I wrote in high-school on my senior trip. I have been never been satisfied with it, always feeling incomplete and unsure how to finish it, but I feel like posting something uplifting for once.

I gaze upon the blood red sky
It's ethereal incandescent beauty sends a chill down my spine
The haunting liturgical chant of the crickets lingers in the background
As the leaves gently whisper secrets into the wind

Crippled by veneration for your majesty
Overwhelmed with awe I am left mute
Surounded by your careful design,
To everything else around I am blind.
Surrounded by your glory
Only you can I see

January 20, 2006

2007-09-02T23:52:00.004-07:00

Where to start with this blog? It has been a long time since I last wrote one. I'm feeling a little brave tonight so forget the whole poem thing--the old stream-of-consciousness writing ensues.

I was thinking the other day why I started putting only poems or retarded "metaphorical" stories on here. I think I started on a path of a broader difference between the outside and within--to be even less serious and joke around more and yet write more introspective things on here. As if I was going to reveal some other hidden part of me, or even the real me or something, I do not even know what the real me is. Somehow I thought that I would get people's attention through what I wrote. Humph, silly idea that was. I guess in order to do that you have to write about relevant things or in a way that makes sense to people. So then I found myself in such a conflict, is it better to write in a way that is true to yourself and what you are trying to express? Or better to write less vaguely so people can more easily identify?

I just read a friend's blog and I feel so broken for him, what can I do? So much pain in the lives of people I know and regretting not saying the words to let them know of the vicarious hurt I feel for them, even if I never had the words. You, my friends that bear the scars of troubles, that come out stronger--are my heroes. You who mourn your losses and take on life with even more courage.

I did not set any New Year's resolutions this year. No, it was not that I resolved not to make resolutions or anything clever like that. I only hope that it was not a manifestation of my apathy. I had never been real big on it but I would try and change things I guess. Sheesh, talk of resolutions is so trite. Ok, moving on...

A struggle recently has been belonging. I always thought I would belong at home in that humid paradise of sweat and splendid food. Bangkok I will always love you. Thailand you are always my home. Then I met with my classmates and friends and I felt very out of place, which I was perplexed at initially because we had come from all over--none of us had seen each other in a while. But as I thought about it I realized that we were living such different lives, headed in different directions and that saddened me so. The decisions they make, the lifestyle that they live contrasted with mine. At times I felt as if maybe I was not really living life in this institution we call Simpson University, in an artificial atmosphere. Truly, being surrounded by Christians 24/7 is amazing in the fellowship I get, but it is so ersatz. I say this because when we are finished with our time here, we are in the real world again of nonbelievers. I'm not sure how to tie my several thoughts in here into one paragraph. Anyway, all this to say that I felt like it was difficult for me to identify with my friends and relate with their experiences because my life is so different. Not that I am jealous of their lives, I just felt empty. Especially because I felt like I would always have that closeness with them. Even more so because I felt between two worlds, not belonging to either. Because I am not a super-Christian, or as vibrantly expressive in my faith in this place of deep spirituality. Because I grew up overseas, I can get close to but not never quite relate with people here. [Do not get me wrong, people here are amazing, just the belonging is not quite there.] Home is where the heart is, but if the heart is reluctantly extirpated where is home? [I know I know, my family is still there. Duh, home is always with them but...you get what I mean.] 'Sigh, the human need to sense belonging.

I noticed that in the times I am feeling the most melancholy is sometimes when people laugh most at what I say. Kind of counter-intuitive I guess. But I guess humor makes it easier to hide.

Sometimes I wish I were like those people that write inspiring things or revelations from life that move people to live life differently or to think about stuff. Or to at least write about relevant things that matter, based on the constant outcry of pain and suffering in the world exacerbated by apathy and inaction.

Going back to living different lives than my friends...a difficult thought was, would I have lived any differently had I been in their situation? What foolish decisions would I have made, or even if I were put in them now would I fall?

Well that concludes for now. I thought I had much more to write when I started but this is what managed to leak out of my fumbled mind.

November 30, 2005 - Diatribe Against the Diet Tribe

2007-09-02T23:52:00.003-07:00

Diatribe against the Diet Tribe

Figure - plump,

Intellect - emaciated.

Social insouciance.

Christless crisis.

While I'm at it, here I go. I have had a problem with using the name of Christ without thinking, His name becomes a copout when we don't know what to say. I guess I am also tired of us throwing His name around to try as if we feel like we need to to prove our faith. Should not our actions and words be in the context of Christ? That people can tell by the way we talk that He is the starting point, the foundation for all we do and say? He should be evident, He should permeate our lives, not a mere name that we have to integrate into our speech. Maybe I am wrong, maybe I am being defensive as someone that does not talk about my faith 24/7 against a conviction to do so more. Maybe I'm just jaded.

Hmm, that's probably the world's shortest diatribe. I guess I usually try to be more diplomatic and nonopinionated or relay my thoughts through metaphor or poetry that nobody understands. Arg, going against all my hesitancy and just saying it.

To explain is to ruin the effect, but oh well. For those that do not catch on "Diet Tribe" refers to the people of this land. Obsessed with the quick and easy solution to solve our problems without any effort. Going off of my last blog I guess (referring to what people read and what they write)--people do not like to think about things so you have to spell it out plain and simple (hrm, is that what I'm doing now?) so that they can get whatever substance out of it in as little time as possible. People just write whatever they are thinking--yet I guess that is what blogging is for. Moreover, I observe that people tend to prefer reading predigested material.

Or perhaps I just tend to favor high-falutin malarky.

Am I over-analyzing and being cynical for little reason? Likely. Am I fettered to the desire to look for the quick and easy way? More than I wish was true. Am I feeling insecure about posting what I am actually thinking? Yes. Is there a point to this paragraph? Not really.

The irony: this blog is predigested. All these words to explain 8 words (and its title) and give them context. [Originally the diatribe was meant to consist of just the first 8 words so consider them two separate sections]

I wonder if that came out right, I've been mulling over this for awhile and these are the thoughts that fought their way to the forefront of my mind as I wrote this.

October 20, 2005

2007-09-02T23:52:00.001-07:00

*A little detour...a little more cynical than usual I guess...I wouldn’t really consider this a poem, more of an observation/criticism of what people look for in writing…

Detritus mopes along the sea floor

Normally consumed by the bottom-feeders

Strangely enough in this time and age

Scavengers come from all corners

For a delicacy oh so relished

Of decayed substance

In search of the immediately digestible

For it produces instantaneous results

Forgotten is nutrition--

Value found in rumination

*Perhaps this is incomplete, but at least the thought is out…

September 27, 2005 - Pinata

2007-09-02T23:51:00.004-07:00

Pinata

Pinata

Empty hollow

No prize inside

Smashed beaten

Swings left and right helplessly

Long-suffering for the sake of entertainment

With hope that truth will captivate

Fear that truth induces further beating

Pain by disappointment

When discovered

There is nothing to be found

The silence of the children is piercing

As they walk away in disappointment

After watching nothingness spill to the ground

Pinata

Empty hollow

No prize inside

September 14, 2005 - Living Demise

2007-09-02T23:51:00.003-07:00

Living demise

Murmurs that caused such turmoil

Buried somewhere ‘neath the soil

Mistakenly my pulse was tossed among the forbidden

Now I can’t seem to remember where they were hidden

A long time passed before I knew it was lost

Before I began to feel my heart lined with frost

For as the last layer of dirt was lain

At that moment emotions were slain

September 7, 2005 - Painter's Metaphor

2007-09-02T23:51:00.001-07:00

Painter's Metaphor

The guise of metaphor feels so safe

But I ache to be found

For this place is an empty sepulcher

Produce the painting that will be enjoyed for aesthetics

Hoping that someone will see the purpose

…behind each careful brushstroke

behind the painter’s selection from his palette

yet not miss the overall story as displayed on canvas

then the artist wonders

does he paint from false inspiration

out of the relentless need for expression

or out of the simple joy of doing what he loves

hoping for sympathy he paints trails along the ground

they all lead to himself

only to find that he has painted himself into a corner

nowhere to go but to wait, afraid of who will discover

curious to see who has felt the same

August 12, 2005 - Flotsam

2007-09-02T23:49:00.000-07:00

Flotsam

Somehow my soul was jettisoned from this vessel

Leaving it not more than a ghost ship

Tired of sailing whichever way the wind blows

The stars have been veiled

Not permitting any sense of direction

Somewhere along the way the anchor was lost

Leaving this boat to drift, drift aimlessly

Yet stubborn determination drives me onward

To sail to where I do not know

To blindly pull back the translucent curtains of fog

July 20, 2005 - Souljourner

2007-08-27T19:34:00.005-07:00

Souljourner

Raging heat, augmented by humidity

Refreshes my being

The air clouded, adulterated by pollution

Inhale the fumes, a purifying soothing solution

Gaze upon the mania of metallic beasts

As they roam the narrow streets

Tuk-tuk[1] terrors traverse loudly

Motorcycle menaces maneuver swiftly

Bloated buses barge through

The bedlam calms my nerves

I walk down the soi[2]

A poor, hairless creature limps along aimlessly

Its’ emaciated frame, covered in sores

Resembles a heart away from home

A voiceless toothy grin

In response to the clunk, clunk sound of coins

Her teeth, stained red and rotted from betel nut[3]

Like the tattered transient upon a glimpse of home

Mansions stand proudly along the road

On the other side of its walls the slums hide in humility

On both sides of the walls laughter can be heard—

Happiness and contentment despite condition

The rain tap dances on the tin roofs for days

Drenched raiment clings to his shivering skin

As the beggar searches frantically for solace

So is a soul away from home

A flurry of bright orange arises in the east

In the west, monks robed in saffron—

The ersatz glory of the sun—collect alms in peace

A warm, welcoming grin from the land of smiles[4]

To the weary sojourner—the souljourner—

As he returns to his place of rest

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[1] An open three-wheeled vehicle, a cross between a motorcycle and a taxi, used for public transportation.

[2] The Thai word for sub-street

[3] A type of seed that contains traces of stimulants that provide a buzz when chewed.

[4] Thailand is known as “the land of smiles”

Written for my English class last semester...apprehension of criticism for perhaps misrepresentation has prevented me from sharing earlier. It was so hard to write about only a few select things which had to be understandable to those that have not been privelaged to witness everything that Thailand is, but I guess this is more Krungthep--a morsel of it. Home where is home?

July 11, 2005 - Pioneer

2007-08-27T19:34:00.003-07:00

Pioneer

Sometimes I wish I was the pioneer of written language

To be the first to etch thoughts and inner stirrings

In a time of newness

Where everything seems fresh

To be the originator of written expression

To say anything without being cliché

In the place free of criticism

A brief dream that is

For I have realized the purpose

Of the staleness of communication

Is to force creativity

I am convinced there are few new themes in life

They are rarely discovered

Only varied by situation

There are only new ways to share them

Which few have found

For each man feels every experience

As if he has been the first

Not knowing humanity knows all too well

Saying straight out how he feels

Thinking honesty is crisp and unworn

Innocent ignorance has led many this way

Creating atmospheres of no hope for language

Hope lies in the abstraction of obscurity

This is what gives language its beauty--

To form something new out of the stale

These thoughts hurt

But they cauterize the wound

Reviving expression by stretching the mind

I know this has been said before.

June 28, 2005 - 25 Days

2007-08-27T19:34:00.001-07:00

25 Days

so severe

the pang of longing

despite knowing the wait is short

I will see you soon

never has the ache of distance

been this short

but oh so much more painful

ironic

unfair

why?

yet now—different circumstances

forced to change against our feelings

when I see you again

I know I will confuse

my actions will contradict

with what was said in the past

I apologize a head of time

sorry

it will be like the days of old

but we know it will hurt

how it stings to let go

so you can freely roam

to find self and soul

no longer stunted growth

by this hand that holds close

25 days

I’m elated

I’m scared

25 days

can’t wait to see you.

May 29, 2005 - The Weed

2007-08-27T19:33:00.005-07:00

The “Weed”?

**Another story if you will...one along the same lines as the last one, although this one is more relevant to something in the past.**

He reached up to adjust his rearview mirror, briefly taking notice of the shiny new car behind him. A thirty-something woman sipped her Starbucks as she prattled into her cell-phone equipped with internet and camera and from the looks of it—the steering wheel for the car. He sighed as he looked around at the mess in his ’87 truck—waiting for the stoplight which resembled a tomato—it was old but had served him well all these years. He pulled forward as the tomato unripened from a lush red to a bright and sour green, giving him the signal to go. Mellow music mused in the background interrupted by intermittent waves of static as he drove along silently.

Upon reaching the house he got out of his white truck which read “Gardening Service” on the side, and walked to the front door of the medium sized grey house. The nine o’clock sun glared at him while he squinted right back. He rang the doorbell but then realized that there was an enveloped taped to the door with his name on it in careful writing. In it was a note with some basic instructions and a check for far more than his standard fee.

He made his way around to the backyard to inspect his patient to see what he would need to do to conjure a remedy. It was bad, but he could tell that it had once been a decent backyard with a pleasant garden in the corner. The grass was wild and long—briefly bringing to mind his long hair hippy days—and the weeds were looking as if they were preparing to usurp control of the backyard.

In a matter of several hours it looked completely different—he had transformed a jungle into a lawn and garden. There was something that was troubling him however. There was a strange plant, like no other he had seen in all his years in gardening, at the corner of the part where the lawn transitioned into garden. It looked like it belonged in the garden and yet somehow at the same time it seemed so out of place. He was unsure as to what he should do. It almost looked like an exotic plant, but at the same time it could have been a weed. Whatever it was, it was strange and too small for him to determine. He did not want to appear unprofessional and possibly leave a weed growing but did not want to destroy a special plant. The note left by his customer asked him to come once every fortnight and mentioned that he would probably be gone before the gardener arrived to work. With this in mind he wondered if he should let this plant bloom or if he should completely extirpate it. He could trim it and leave possibilities open for either option—which would be avoiding a solution—either letting a weed remain rooted or preventing a flower from reaching full bloom.

Both solutions are problematic, he did not know what to do, there was no way he could ask the owner for he would never meet him. Which risk must he take?

May 28, 2005 - Death of a Teenager

2007-08-27T19:33:00.003-07:00

Death of a Teenager

Angst—melted

Rebellion against childhood—forgotten

Fighting to earn respect—lost

Complex complexion—burned

Return to innocence

Welcome back youth

Seek simplicity

New expectations to bind

Free in trust given by the loss

Free in the death of a teenager

Free to embrace childhood once again

To be happy in acting as we wish

Confused by the passing of days

We are all the same

Yet choked by blinding attitudes

Death of a teenager

End of this limbo state

All the difference

And yet no change

Youth—reborn

twenty years—haven’t seen the world

twenty years—no experience

twenty years—no wisdom

eighty years—no difference—still no knowledge of how to truly live

Children hold the precious gem in innocence

Death of a teenager

Let the same blood that courses these veins

Flow once again in the excited glee of youth.