God is with us!
I could go at length what this means to me, but I'd rather be succinct at the moment. You'll get a lengthy post from me in about 6 days when I do my usual year in review (which will almost certainly include the lyrics to the song "New Year's Eve" by Five Iron Frenzy).
God is with us. God is with me. God is with you.
These past 5 months and 2 days I've worked in ministry. Crazy. I love every student at CCF, despite what my actions and appearance MAY sometimes indicate. Perception, unfortunately, is reality. I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life - but I'd be content with ministry.
My biggest obstacle is myself - but that doesn't matter, because Emmanuel.
Emmanuel. "GOD IS WITH US!"
I'll keep leading small groups. I'll keep running A/V. I'll keep making powerpoints. I'll keep praying my butt off at the Well. I'll keep talking to students about their lives. I'll keep trying to cook things. I'll keep using the paper cutter that is "of the devil." I love you guys, and most of you may not ever read this.
Emmanuel.
Emmanuel.
Emmanuel!
12.25.2009
7.01.2009
Tonight I spent time with about 30 high school aged kids. I only really spoke to 3 or 4 of them, but I was mostly present to enjoy their joy.
I went to my home church for their youth events that are held on Wednesdays. What I got from this was some perspective. Sweet, delicious perspective.
The older people get, the wiser they get. Or so I'm told. But I don't think this is true. I think that they older people get, the older they get. So often I heard in high school and college that I took things for granted. But I was also warned that I would one day take those times of my life for granted.
Does this mean we are constantly doomed to take everything for granted? I sincerely hope not. What I've learned over the past several years is that people are too concerned with appearances. People are too afraid to open up. People fear staying young, and fear growing up. People take the responsibilities of adulthood for granted and joy of youth for granted. I'm sensing some mixed signals here.
I decided tonight that we are not destined to take everything for granted. We are destined to dream, to regret, to triumph, to fail, to grow old, to die, to enrich, to enliven, to disappoint, to hurt, and any number of other things because we are human. We are destined to take many things for granted, but not everything.
Put aside the fears you have of growing up, put aside appearance, put aside the walls that you put up and the masks you put on, and live life. Because if their is one thing that you should never take for granted - it's that there is one person out there who will never be given pause by any of it, and who always care about all of it. Never take God for granted. He's always there, he's the spirit that dwells within you, the conduit for all your concerns - he is overjoyed by the positive things in your life and concerned for you when the negative rears its ugly head.
Numerous things sparked this thought process. Not just the happy youths around me, but the connection I felt to them despite being a complete stranger to most of them. One young man is moving to the midwest this weekend, leaving behind the support system that he has here - but not God, and not the prayers that this support system will continue to lift up for him. One young lady faces a terribly milestone on Friday - the first anniversary of her mother's death, and yet her friends and family, and above all God, have been with her through this year, blessed by her smile and her good nature. Or another guy, whose social ineptitude should try even the most patient man - but not in the church. People actively listen to him as he changes topics mid-thought, truly excited to hear his stories, even if for the tenth time. God provides for us in numerous ways, and while you can't always rely on people, you can always rely on God and on the tools he chooses to use in your day-to-day life.
And let me not leave out the take-away message of the evening - praising God. Wednesday youth services at my church are a lot like Dinner and a Message at CCF. Social time at the beginning and end, a free meal, some praise and worship, and a message. Tonight, though, was different - and not just because I grabbed what I thought was a pepperoni and jalepeno piece of pizze only to find the bitterness of green olives on my tongue. Tonight, the praise and worship and the message were closely linked. We sang 3 songs. Then we sang them again. Linda, the youth minister, encouraged everyone to close their eyes and raise their hands. Not simply because she wanted more active participation, but because she wanted focus. Then she encouraged us to listen intently to the words we sang and really and truly think about them, rather than recite them. I whole-heartedly subscribe to this. It's something I've oft thought about through my years enjoying praise and worship. You see people who really engage in the songs, and those who stand by and sing or do nothing. I accuse them of nothing. I just hope that EVERYone takes an actively role in understanding the lyrics to a praise and worship song - no matter their outward appearance. Even the most seemlingly pithy, cookie-cutter lyrics contain meaning. It's up to the individual to actively partake in that understanding.
I have a passion for praise and worship. I know a lot of people who do. But I also hear often "I don't like this song," or "That song is my favorite." I encourage people to put those ideas aside. Realize that no matter the song, and no matter the lyrics - when you sing these songs you should be praying to the one worthy of all praise.
Outside of all that: 3 weeks.
I went to my home church for their youth events that are held on Wednesdays. What I got from this was some perspective. Sweet, delicious perspective.
The older people get, the wiser they get. Or so I'm told. But I don't think this is true. I think that they older people get, the older they get. So often I heard in high school and college that I took things for granted. But I was also warned that I would one day take those times of my life for granted.
Does this mean we are constantly doomed to take everything for granted? I sincerely hope not. What I've learned over the past several years is that people are too concerned with appearances. People are too afraid to open up. People fear staying young, and fear growing up. People take the responsibilities of adulthood for granted and joy of youth for granted. I'm sensing some mixed signals here.
I decided tonight that we are not destined to take everything for granted. We are destined to dream, to regret, to triumph, to fail, to grow old, to die, to enrich, to enliven, to disappoint, to hurt, and any number of other things because we are human. We are destined to take many things for granted, but not everything.
Put aside the fears you have of growing up, put aside appearance, put aside the walls that you put up and the masks you put on, and live life. Because if their is one thing that you should never take for granted - it's that there is one person out there who will never be given pause by any of it, and who always care about all of it. Never take God for granted. He's always there, he's the spirit that dwells within you, the conduit for all your concerns - he is overjoyed by the positive things in your life and concerned for you when the negative rears its ugly head.
Numerous things sparked this thought process. Not just the happy youths around me, but the connection I felt to them despite being a complete stranger to most of them. One young man is moving to the midwest this weekend, leaving behind the support system that he has here - but not God, and not the prayers that this support system will continue to lift up for him. One young lady faces a terribly milestone on Friday - the first anniversary of her mother's death, and yet her friends and family, and above all God, have been with her through this year, blessed by her smile and her good nature. Or another guy, whose social ineptitude should try even the most patient man - but not in the church. People actively listen to him as he changes topics mid-thought, truly excited to hear his stories, even if for the tenth time. God provides for us in numerous ways, and while you can't always rely on people, you can always rely on God and on the tools he chooses to use in your day-to-day life.
And let me not leave out the take-away message of the evening - praising God. Wednesday youth services at my church are a lot like Dinner and a Message at CCF. Social time at the beginning and end, a free meal, some praise and worship, and a message. Tonight, though, was different - and not just because I grabbed what I thought was a pepperoni and jalepeno piece of pizze only to find the bitterness of green olives on my tongue. Tonight, the praise and worship and the message were closely linked. We sang 3 songs. Then we sang them again. Linda, the youth minister, encouraged everyone to close their eyes and raise their hands. Not simply because she wanted more active participation, but because she wanted focus. Then she encouraged us to listen intently to the words we sang and really and truly think about them, rather than recite them. I whole-heartedly subscribe to this. It's something I've oft thought about through my years enjoying praise and worship. You see people who really engage in the songs, and those who stand by and sing or do nothing. I accuse them of nothing. I just hope that EVERYone takes an actively role in understanding the lyrics to a praise and worship song - no matter their outward appearance. Even the most seemlingly pithy, cookie-cutter lyrics contain meaning. It's up to the individual to actively partake in that understanding.
I have a passion for praise and worship. I know a lot of people who do. But I also hear often "I don't like this song," or "That song is my favorite." I encourage people to put those ideas aside. Realize that no matter the song, and no matter the lyrics - when you sing these songs you should be praying to the one worthy of all praise.
Outside of all that: 3 weeks.
6.28.2009
Shallow rivers, lots of stereotypical white trash, and unintelligent staffing do not make for a completely enjoyable kayaking experience. Thankfully, good company has a way of off-setting these short-comings.
I've never been a fan of profiling, and up until today I'd never been a victim of such. Thanks to the bar Barcode for enlightening me as to just how awful it feels, even under the most ridiculous circumstances (which isn't to say that any circumstance is acceptable): "This guy's wearing jean shorts... should we let him in?" "F*** no" At which point they lost the patronage of about 10 people. Again, good company has a way of off-setting frustration.
Tonight I was also hit on in a bar for the first time ever. It was uncomfortable.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"I guess."
"Why do you look so pissed off?" (This is a specTACular pick-up line.)
"I've had a frustrating and exhausting day, I'm just tired."
"You like you want to dance!"
"I really do not, in fact, want to dance."
"Yeah, you do, I can see that smile." (This smile is due to discomfort, amazingly attractive and bubbly girl who is also probably quite drunk and if you aren't I'm still not going to dance with you because you're a stranger)
"No, I'm actually quite exhausted and comfortable here, but thanks for the offer." (She never heard that last part, because she was already walking away disgusted at this point... I am smooooooth.)
Michael Jackson is dead. This isn't related to anything else I've said. It has just struck me how strange that is. I'm not a particular fan, but I've grown up hearing his music every now and then, always having a face (well, several, if we're being honest) to put with it. Now, though, it seems absurd that this face will never again be photographed, filmed, or seen. It's weird to think that an icon, even one I'm not particularly fond of, is gone.
Farrah Fawcett is also dead, and the above holds true, I suppose - I've just never been acquainted with her work. This in no way is meant to lessen the impact her loss might be having, it just isn't as big for me.
Ed MacMahon is also dead. I cannot begin to fathom that.
This is from a collection of brief sayings that a man has about Christianity. Many of them are not as impactful... but this one struck me:
"Christian maturity is measured by how much we love others, not by how much more we know than others." - Larry Trammell
Other things! But at a later time!
I've never been a fan of profiling, and up until today I'd never been a victim of such. Thanks to the bar Barcode for enlightening me as to just how awful it feels, even under the most ridiculous circumstances (which isn't to say that any circumstance is acceptable): "This guy's wearing jean shorts... should we let him in?" "F*** no" At which point they lost the patronage of about 10 people. Again, good company has a way of off-setting frustration.
Tonight I was also hit on in a bar for the first time ever. It was uncomfortable.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"I guess."
"Why do you look so pissed off?" (This is a specTACular pick-up line.)
"I've had a frustrating and exhausting day, I'm just tired."
"You like you want to dance!"
"I really do not, in fact, want to dance."
"Yeah, you do, I can see that smile." (This smile is due to discomfort, amazingly attractive and bubbly girl who is also probably quite drunk and if you aren't I'm still not going to dance with you because you're a stranger)
"No, I'm actually quite exhausted and comfortable here, but thanks for the offer." (She never heard that last part, because she was already walking away disgusted at this point... I am smooooooth.)
Michael Jackson is dead. This isn't related to anything else I've said. It has just struck me how strange that is. I'm not a particular fan, but I've grown up hearing his music every now and then, always having a face (well, several, if we're being honest) to put with it. Now, though, it seems absurd that this face will never again be photographed, filmed, or seen. It's weird to think that an icon, even one I'm not particularly fond of, is gone.
Farrah Fawcett is also dead, and the above holds true, I suppose - I've just never been acquainted with her work. This in no way is meant to lessen the impact her loss might be having, it just isn't as big for me.
Ed MacMahon is also dead. I cannot begin to fathom that.
This is from a collection of brief sayings that a man has about Christianity. Many of them are not as impactful... but this one struck me:
"Christian maturity is measured by how much we love others, not by how much more we know than others." - Larry Trammell
Other things! But at a later time!
6.02.2009
Notes
Tuesday: Drove a lot. Semi Tread blew out the tire. Compressed air. Closed shops. Slow drive.
Wednesday: Delish b-fast. Mountain roads. Rainbow in Charleston. RAIN. Nerves.
Thursday: Long talk with Aunt Sandy. Lots of relatives. Fish out of water feeling. So many questions.
Friday: Pittsburgh. Primanti Bros. Catch with my cousin. Uncle Bob.
Saturday: Marathon. Wings. Falls for less than 30. To Jersey. Wrong turn. Late check-in.
Sunday: NYC. Wrong way, wrong turn, miserable feet. Good food.
Monday: Philly. Cheesesteaks are over-rated. People are buttholes. MD. Food with family. Awkward pause. Dominoes and card games. Picture of Grandpa.
Tuesday: DC. Never left the car. Worst city planning ever. I drove a bit. Too tired. Speeding ticket. Guilt trip.
Wednesday: TBA
Wednesday: Delish b-fast. Mountain roads. Rainbow in Charleston. RAIN. Nerves.
Thursday: Long talk with Aunt Sandy. Lots of relatives. Fish out of water feeling. So many questions.
Friday: Pittsburgh. Primanti Bros. Catch with my cousin. Uncle Bob.
Saturday: Marathon. Wings. Falls for less than 30. To Jersey. Wrong turn. Late check-in.
Sunday: NYC. Wrong way, wrong turn, miserable feet. Good food.
Monday: Philly. Cheesesteaks are over-rated. People are buttholes. MD. Food with family. Awkward pause. Dominoes and card games. Picture of Grandpa.
Tuesday: DC. Never left the car. Worst city planning ever. I drove a bit. Too tired. Speeding ticket. Guilt trip.
Wednesday: TBA
5.11.2009
Nothing is hitting me.
Zinkhan trauma is at an unfortunate resolution - though to be fair the outset was itself far more unfortunate.
I've graduated. I didn't attend any ceremonies. I see everyone's pictures and am excited for them, unable to comprehend the fact that I've achieved the same successes as them.
I'm about to embark on a fund-raising bonanza, and I'd say this is the only thing remotely registering on my radar.
I'm never, or rarely, going to see some of friends anymore. This especially has not yet hit me... but it will. It will.
I'm interning at CCF next year. I think this has not hit me because the transition is proving, at least from a relationship standpoint, smoother than expected. It's like a dimmer switch has been slowly adjusted all semester. I could toot my own horn in this regard... but it's not something that I've been doing. It has just happened.
I rode around in a car on Friday with two people I will, eventually, miss dearly. They've each, in their own ways, had profound impacts on the person I grew into over the past 9 months. And yet, I rarely realize it, and certainly can't put my finger on exactly *what* those impacts have been.
Looks like tonight, the sky is heavy
Feels like the winds are gonna change
Beneath my feet, the earth is ready
I know it's time for heaven's rain
The deluge is coming, and it will last a long while. I can't say if it'll be for 40 days... but I'm pretty sure the 40 days in the desert need to come first.
You're a clever Guy.
Zinkhan trauma is at an unfortunate resolution - though to be fair the outset was itself far more unfortunate.
I've graduated. I didn't attend any ceremonies. I see everyone's pictures and am excited for them, unable to comprehend the fact that I've achieved the same successes as them.
I'm about to embark on a fund-raising bonanza, and I'd say this is the only thing remotely registering on my radar.
I'm never, or rarely, going to see some of friends anymore. This especially has not yet hit me... but it will. It will.
I'm interning at CCF next year. I think this has not hit me because the transition is proving, at least from a relationship standpoint, smoother than expected. It's like a dimmer switch has been slowly adjusted all semester. I could toot my own horn in this regard... but it's not something that I've been doing. It has just happened.
I rode around in a car on Friday with two people I will, eventually, miss dearly. They've each, in their own ways, had profound impacts on the person I grew into over the past 9 months. And yet, I rarely realize it, and certainly can't put my finger on exactly *what* those impacts have been.
Looks like tonight, the sky is heavy
Feels like the winds are gonna change
Beneath my feet, the earth is ready
I know it's time for heaven's rain
The deluge is coming, and it will last a long while. I can't say if it'll be for 40 days... but I'm pretty sure the 40 days in the desert need to come first.
You're a clever Guy.
5.05.2009
I embark on my last undergraduate assignment in less than an hour.
Just thought you'd like to know, WORLD!
But maybe not.
Oh, on another note - I'm interning at CCF with 3 pretty cool people and a bunch of awesome stud- I guess I can't call them that yet for another hour or so. There will be much pomp and circumstance at another time.
Just thought you'd like to know, WORLD!
But maybe not.
Oh, on another note - I'm interning at CCF with 3 pretty cool people and a bunch of awesome stud- I guess I can't call them that yet for another hour or so. There will be much pomp and circumstance at another time.
4.28.2009
My only lifelong friend got engaged yesterday.
I'm both excited and a little weirded out. I'm extraordinarily happy for him - but because of geographic distance, I've never met his fiance. That just seems weird to me.
Also - it's like a benchmark. One of your close friends is engaged, Jason. This officially means you have reached the age where that sort of thing *can happen*.
Oh, also - you finish your undergraduate college experience in 8 days. How's *that* for a benchmark?
Now you just have to finish that paper.
Godspeed, me, godspeed.
I'm both excited and a little weirded out. I'm extraordinarily happy for him - but because of geographic distance, I've never met his fiance. That just seems weird to me.
Also - it's like a benchmark. One of your close friends is engaged, Jason. This officially means you have reached the age where that sort of thing *can happen*.
Oh, also - you finish your undergraduate college experience in 8 days. How's *that* for a benchmark?
Now you just have to finish that paper.
Godspeed, me, godspeed.
4.26.2009
Great Weekend
Tragedy on Prince Avenue aside, I had a pretty sweet time in the ole Athens-town this weekend.
Oh, and aside from the whole feeling sick as a dog from 10PM Friday until 6PM on Saturday thing. That wasn't so fun.
But the semi-formal? That was awesome. I helped with the decorating, which was a fantastically fun time. Lots of lights, tablecloths, and tape.
Then it was time to don the duds! Shiny smooth black dress shirt - check. Black slacks - check. Silver tie - check. Black Redcoat Band marching shoes with white shoestrings - check. If only I'd had a hat.
It was fun watching everyone arrive and interact in their finery. Though I must admit, I was wary. Not a big dance person... and some other thing which shall remain *especially* cryptic.
Took a big group photo - good times, all the smiles and the realization that I have some of the greatest friends a guy could ask for.
Then a delicious dinner - props to my roommate for making some amazing chicken (never cooks that well at home).
Certainly, I wasn't too keen on the dancing at first. Shining social super star that I am. But once one Jennifer Harris basically made me dance (good for her), I was all over that dance floor, with no idea if my dancing was ridiculous or not. I stopped caring. That was a good time. Then the tasty Waffle House. Getting to know some Tech friends.
Downtown rendezvous for the Twilight road race (which I missed all of) and to see a friend briefly. Still dressed in the duds, as I call them. It was warm. The drive home, and some fantastic sleep.
Today? Lunch with said birthday friend. Some work on a paper. VOLLEYBALL!
5 (or 6, I lost track) games. Fun, fun, fun! I even dove once or twice. And then some quiet time.
And lots of awesome online conversation. Plus - we hooked up the n64, and there was GoldenEye.
Yes. GoldenEye.
Oh, and aside from the whole feeling sick as a dog from 10PM Friday until 6PM on Saturday thing. That wasn't so fun.
But the semi-formal? That was awesome. I helped with the decorating, which was a fantastically fun time. Lots of lights, tablecloths, and tape.
Then it was time to don the duds! Shiny smooth black dress shirt - check. Black slacks - check. Silver tie - check. Black Redcoat Band marching shoes with white shoestrings - check. If only I'd had a hat.
It was fun watching everyone arrive and interact in their finery. Though I must admit, I was wary. Not a big dance person... and some other thing which shall remain *especially* cryptic.
Took a big group photo - good times, all the smiles and the realization that I have some of the greatest friends a guy could ask for.
Then a delicious dinner - props to my roommate for making some amazing chicken (never cooks that well at home).
Certainly, I wasn't too keen on the dancing at first. Shining social super star that I am. But once one Jennifer Harris basically made me dance (good for her), I was all over that dance floor, with no idea if my dancing was ridiculous or not. I stopped caring. That was a good time. Then the tasty Waffle House. Getting to know some Tech friends.
Downtown rendezvous for the Twilight road race (which I missed all of) and to see a friend briefly. Still dressed in the duds, as I call them. It was warm. The drive home, and some fantastic sleep.
Today? Lunch with said birthday friend. Some work on a paper. VOLLEYBALL!
5 (or 6, I lost track) games. Fun, fun, fun! I even dove once or twice. And then some quiet time.
And lots of awesome online conversation. Plus - we hooked up the n64, and there was GoldenEye.
Yes. GoldenEye.
4.19.2009
Highlights. Not the magazine.
I don't really know where to begin. But the last week, and especially the weekend, has been awesome.
And the prospect of the coming weeks seem no less awe-inspiring.
I can handle a grill... this is exciting news.
I realize how much I've grown up in the past 3 or so months. This is a staggering, though not always apparent, amount.
I only have 3 days of class, 2 presentations, 3 exams, 1 paper and 1 day of finals until I graduate. And not all of those are mutually exclusive:
21st:
8AM - Exam
9:30AM - Class cancelled
11AM - Haven't got a clue
3:30PM - Regular Class
23rd:
8AM - Regular class for me (presentation day for others)
9:30AM - Regular Class
11AM - Presentation
3:30PM - Exam
28th:
8AM - Regular class for me (presentation day for others)
9:30AM - Regular Class
11AM - Review/Presentation
3:30PM - Skipping
5th:
8AM - Presentation and Paper Due
12PM - Exam
Retreats are awesome. Getting to know folks is equally cool. Smoke or Blood is awkward.
The rain just stopped for a moment. That was strange.
I had a great weekend, full of fond memories, great discussions, and unexpected surprises. I'm looking forward to the next week.
Monday: Praise Band and Creative Group stuff
Tuesday: Nerd time.
Wednesday: 4-square and C.S. Lewis
Thursday: Last regular DaaM of the semester
Friday: Probably something fun to do
Saturday: A semi-formal that I'm excited but also anxious about
...And somewhere in there I have to study and write a paper.
I don't really know where to begin. But the last week, and especially the weekend, has been awesome.
And the prospect of the coming weeks seem no less awe-inspiring.
I can handle a grill... this is exciting news.
I realize how much I've grown up in the past 3 or so months. This is a staggering, though not always apparent, amount.
I only have 3 days of class, 2 presentations, 3 exams, 1 paper and 1 day of finals until I graduate. And not all of those are mutually exclusive:
21st:
8AM - Exam
9:30AM - Class cancelled
11AM - Haven't got a clue
3:30PM - Regular Class
23rd:
8AM - Regular class for me (presentation day for others)
9:30AM - Regular Class
11AM - Presentation
3:30PM - Exam
28th:
8AM - Regular class for me (presentation day for others)
9:30AM - Regular Class
11AM - Review/Presentation
3:30PM - Skipping
5th:
8AM - Presentation and Paper Due
12PM - Exam
Retreats are awesome. Getting to know folks is equally cool. Smoke or Blood is awkward.
The rain just stopped for a moment. That was strange.
I had a great weekend, full of fond memories, great discussions, and unexpected surprises. I'm looking forward to the next week.
Monday: Praise Band and Creative Group stuff
Tuesday: Nerd time.
Wednesday: 4-square and C.S. Lewis
Thursday: Last regular DaaM of the semester
Friday: Probably something fun to do
Saturday: A semi-formal that I'm excited but also anxious about
...And somewhere in there I have to study and write a paper.
4.04.2009
Blar
More often than not, spiritual warfare is about guerrilla tactics. Stealthy and surprising. You've little hope of anticipating it, and when it strikes, it strikes at the heart and vanishes before you know what's hit you.
Occasionally, it feels as though it is based upon rote guidelines. A rank-and-file system where your opponent looks you in the eye and waits for the order that both of you can hear.
Then there's the warfare that you least expect and blindsides you. The only warning is the whistle just before impact.
Two weeks ago, I started getting hit from all sides by things I didn't expect, striking swift and quick at my greatest fears. A few days ago, it was like seeing in 4 dimensions - anticipating the exact time and source of the hits. Tonight, it was something new and different. New technology, if you will. And it hurt.
Thursday night an idea was posed to me that shouldn't have been novel, but was. We take God's grace for granted. His amazing grace, which we've done nothing to deserve. We rest on it, and do nothing to deserve it. But we should constantly sing praises for it. We should constantly strive to earn it, even though we'll never really be worthy. Tonight was Relay for Life at UGA. They took a lap of silence in remembrance for all those lost or struggling with cancer. The only sound was Amazing Grace played on bagpipes. When those first pitches sounded into an otherwise quiet and dark night sky... I felt overwhelmed.
It was later when the warfare went on. It was later when I felt overcome and hurt by things that shouldn't have hurt me. But it did. I decided to go be alone. And now here I sit contemplating grace.
We're all so far in over our heads. I should have drowned a long time ago, but here I am.
Imagine that.
More to come.
Occasionally, it feels as though it is based upon rote guidelines. A rank-and-file system where your opponent looks you in the eye and waits for the order that both of you can hear.
Then there's the warfare that you least expect and blindsides you. The only warning is the whistle just before impact.
Two weeks ago, I started getting hit from all sides by things I didn't expect, striking swift and quick at my greatest fears. A few days ago, it was like seeing in 4 dimensions - anticipating the exact time and source of the hits. Tonight, it was something new and different. New technology, if you will. And it hurt.
Thursday night an idea was posed to me that shouldn't have been novel, but was. We take God's grace for granted. His amazing grace, which we've done nothing to deserve. We rest on it, and do nothing to deserve it. But we should constantly sing praises for it. We should constantly strive to earn it, even though we'll never really be worthy. Tonight was Relay for Life at UGA. They took a lap of silence in remembrance for all those lost or struggling with cancer. The only sound was Amazing Grace played on bagpipes. When those first pitches sounded into an otherwise quiet and dark night sky... I felt overwhelmed.
It was later when the warfare went on. It was later when I felt overcome and hurt by things that shouldn't have hurt me. But it did. I decided to go be alone. And now here I sit contemplating grace.
We're all so far in over our heads. I should have drowned a long time ago, but here I am.
Imagine that.
More to come.
3.27.2009
Today I found out that the person who introduced to me to Five Iron Frenzy is now an atheist.
Five Iron Frenzy was an alternative... well, ska... Christian band. I like them a lot. He took me to a small concert (as in, at a church) that had their frontman once.
I wish colleges had less of a negative impact on people's spirituality than they do. College ministries have their work cut out for them.
Five Iron Frenzy was an alternative... well, ska... Christian band. I like them a lot. He took me to a small concert (as in, at a church) that had their frontman once.
I wish colleges had less of a negative impact on people's spirituality than they do. College ministries have their work cut out for them.
3.22.2009
I have a new favorite band:
The Decemberists.
The rest of this post will have nothing to do with that... suckers.
A couple posts back I talked about things that'd be going down, and moved backwards toward the present.
Join me now, as we review and supplement.
That night I tried to predict things that I couldn't possibly anticipate. I was not surprised. Curveballs were headed my way.
The next day I did in fact fall asleep during class. I did my usual things. I did not sleep, and certainly prayed a lot. I don't recall if I dabbled on the guitar or piano - but I assure you there was music.
That Wednesday Lent began. I'm afraid I've done little really wander in the desert. I found a money clip on one of the dunes and checked into the Holiday Inn Express. I sat in a familiar room in front of familiar faces, and I was nervous. I slept great.
That Thursday I did some group work and slept a great deal. DaaM was great, and I never did pack.
Friday morning I packed like a whirlwind, leaving nothing to chance. Last minute changes put me in a different vehicle... still a van - but no stir craziness. Got to know a good friend a little better... and stuck a dragon to my arm for the weekend. It was fantastic. There was a lot of rain, and I was awed.
That Saturday I sang a lot, I formed an informed opinion of the Gatlinburg speaker that was spot on. I considered him fantastic, and his message informative - and I was not disappointed. I ate some delicious food. I DID NOT GET SICK. I started to read "Watchmen" - this was unexpected. I shaved my beard into some sweet handlebars. I got my hair cut into a mullet. I got my hair cut into its current iteration. I rocked it at some trivia.
That Sunday I snorted myself awake (not on cocaine, I assure you). Little did I know what awaited me. After the most sustaining meal one can have, I learned along with everyone else that their was snow. This was unexpected. This did not relent. After several hours on the road and several exchanged stories, I made a new friend - the city of Anderson, South Carolina. I slept on a floor, underneath an unfamiliar ceiling - and I slept well, because I was peace.
That Monday, I did not shave. I woke up in Anderson, and continued home. Then I shoveled snow, helped free a truck from under a tree, ate with friends, and passed out.
Open wide - its time for your supplement!
On Tuesday I boycotted class. On Wednesday I recovered more sleep. On Thursday I took a test and sang my heart out some more. On Friday I hung about town.
Early Saturday morning I drove to CCF to see off a crew of people bound for Juarez, Mexico. Then I went back to sleep, only to wake a few hours later and head home. That night I received a phone call.
That phone call began a 24+ hour odyssey to and from Vicksburg, Mississippi. I piled into a car with 4 other people, picked up a van from the Atlanta airport on...
Sunday, and rode 7 or so hours west. At 7 AM local time, I collasped under another unfamiliar ceiling, amongst friends. Thanks yous and hugs were exchanged, and I again saw off a crew of people bound for Juarez, Mexico. Then we made the long trip home.
Monday I slept.
Tuesday I returned to Athens and spent time with a friend. Wednesday I did yardwork. Thursday I spent sick... it sucked.
Friday and Saturday I did more yardwork.
On Sunday I did still more yardwork and welcomed back a crew from Juarez, Mexico.
On Monday I had a huge headache and project to do. I ran a meeting, attended a few more, and slept well.
On Tuesday I almost lost all of my notes for school. It was worrisome. My project was moved back 2 weeks. Hooray.
On Wednesday I ate until I almost burst - the Barbeque was well worth it.
On Thursday I tried to give someone the advice I felt led to give... I think it was actually useful to him. I sang... and I got quite a few compliments... it made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
On Friday I got another phone call and made plans to hang out with a friend I'd not seen in months. I went to Oz. I wore a dress. It was spectacular... in that it was a spectacle.
On Saturday I worked on a paper and saw that friend. It was a good time. I also shot zombies with my homies.
On Sunday I sat down to my computer to chronicle 3 weeks of events as though I were writing a memior. I toyed around with the idea of trying to predict another week's worth of happenings, but then I realized the futility in trying to predict things that I can't possibly anticipate. I lauged at my efforts and thanked God for his veiled clarity.
On Sunday night I wrote an oxymoron about the One who is truly indescribable. And I laughed.
Then I went to bed.
I have a new favorite band:
The Decemberists.
And the rest of this post had nothing to do with that.
The Decemberists.
The rest of this post will have nothing to do with that... suckers.
A couple posts back I talked about things that'd be going down, and moved backwards toward the present.
Join me now, as we review and supplement.
That night I tried to predict things that I couldn't possibly anticipate. I was not surprised. Curveballs were headed my way.
The next day I did in fact fall asleep during class. I did my usual things. I did not sleep, and certainly prayed a lot. I don't recall if I dabbled on the guitar or piano - but I assure you there was music.
That Wednesday Lent began. I'm afraid I've done little really wander in the desert. I found a money clip on one of the dunes and checked into the Holiday Inn Express. I sat in a familiar room in front of familiar faces, and I was nervous. I slept great.
That Thursday I did some group work and slept a great deal. DaaM was great, and I never did pack.
Friday morning I packed like a whirlwind, leaving nothing to chance. Last minute changes put me in a different vehicle... still a van - but no stir craziness. Got to know a good friend a little better... and stuck a dragon to my arm for the weekend. It was fantastic. There was a lot of rain, and I was awed.
That Saturday I sang a lot, I formed an informed opinion of the Gatlinburg speaker that was spot on. I considered him fantastic, and his message informative - and I was not disappointed. I ate some delicious food. I DID NOT GET SICK. I started to read "Watchmen" - this was unexpected. I shaved my beard into some sweet handlebars. I got my hair cut into a mullet. I got my hair cut into its current iteration. I rocked it at some trivia.
That Sunday I snorted myself awake (not on cocaine, I assure you). Little did I know what awaited me. After the most sustaining meal one can have, I learned along with everyone else that their was snow. This was unexpected. This did not relent. After several hours on the road and several exchanged stories, I made a new friend - the city of Anderson, South Carolina. I slept on a floor, underneath an unfamiliar ceiling - and I slept well, because I was peace.
That Monday, I did not shave. I woke up in Anderson, and continued home. Then I shoveled snow, helped free a truck from under a tree, ate with friends, and passed out.
Open wide - its time for your supplement!
On Tuesday I boycotted class. On Wednesday I recovered more sleep. On Thursday I took a test and sang my heart out some more. On Friday I hung about town.
Early Saturday morning I drove to CCF to see off a crew of people bound for Juarez, Mexico. Then I went back to sleep, only to wake a few hours later and head home. That night I received a phone call.
That phone call began a 24+ hour odyssey to and from Vicksburg, Mississippi. I piled into a car with 4 other people, picked up a van from the Atlanta airport on...
Sunday, and rode 7 or so hours west. At 7 AM local time, I collasped under another unfamiliar ceiling, amongst friends. Thanks yous and hugs were exchanged, and I again saw off a crew of people bound for Juarez, Mexico. Then we made the long trip home.
Monday I slept.
Tuesday I returned to Athens and spent time with a friend. Wednesday I did yardwork. Thursday I spent sick... it sucked.
Friday and Saturday I did more yardwork.
On Sunday I did still more yardwork and welcomed back a crew from Juarez, Mexico.
On Monday I had a huge headache and project to do. I ran a meeting, attended a few more, and slept well.
On Tuesday I almost lost all of my notes for school. It was worrisome. My project was moved back 2 weeks. Hooray.
On Wednesday I ate until I almost burst - the Barbeque was well worth it.
On Thursday I tried to give someone the advice I felt led to give... I think it was actually useful to him. I sang... and I got quite a few compliments... it made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
On Friday I got another phone call and made plans to hang out with a friend I'd not seen in months. I went to Oz. I wore a dress. It was spectacular... in that it was a spectacle.
On Saturday I worked on a paper and saw that friend. It was a good time. I also shot zombies with my homies.
On Sunday I sat down to my computer to chronicle 3 weeks of events as though I were writing a memior. I toyed around with the idea of trying to predict another week's worth of happenings, but then I realized the futility in trying to predict things that I can't possibly anticipate. I lauged at my efforts and thanked God for his veiled clarity.
On Sunday night I wrote an oxymoron about the One who is truly indescribable. And I laughed.
Then I went to bed.
I have a new favorite band:
The Decemberists.
And the rest of this post had nothing to do with that.
3.21.2009
Things to do this weekend...
Rejoice.
Write a paper.
Do some yardwork.
Draw a picture.
Learn a song.
Project.
I've always enjoyed poems shaped in some way like the list above. Longer lines as you approach the middle. That revelation was the not the reason for the post - just a happy accident.
Write a paper.
Do some yardwork.
Draw a picture.
Learn a song.
Project.
I've always enjoyed poems shaped in some way like the list above. Longer lines as you approach the middle. That revelation was the not the reason for the post - just a happy accident.
2.23.2009
Speculation moving backwards toward now
Monday morning I will shave.
Sunday evening I will collapse into a heap in bed, having gotten to know my peers at CCF a great deal more - hopefully, I will not be deathly ill.
Sunday morning I will 'wake up' after having slept maybe an hour or two, there will be an amazing breakfast and prayer time. It will be spectacular. I will probably cry. Hopefully, I will not be deathly ill.
Saturday into the wee hours, I will be playing cards and laughing a great deal - hopefully joining in spontaneous acts of awesome. Hopefully, I will not be deathly ill.
Saturday afternoon and I will eat pancakes. One of two pancake-related scenarios might occur. I hope not, though - because that would be embarrassing. Hopefully, I will not *get*deathly ill.
Saturday morning I will sing until my voice hurts a little, and probably form an uninformed opinion of the Gatlinburg speaker that will become refined as the weekend continues.
Friday night I will sing a bunch. It'll be cool.
Friday afternoon I'll sit in a van for a few hours with a bunch of awesome people and *probably* not get stir crazy.
Friday morning I will wake up later than I want to, but still end up at CCF in time to leave.
Thursday night I will be physically drained and spiritually charged, if this semester's DaaM trend continues. I will pack for the weekend. I will go sleep.
Thursday afternoon I will breeze through a Music Theory test and giggle the whole way home.
Thursday morning I will go to my classes and do most of the work for a group project. I will likely fall asleep during one of those classes, if not all of them.
Wednesday night I will sleep probably the most sound sleep I've had in a couple weeks, because I will no longer be anxious.
Wednesday afternoon I will sit in a familiar room in front of familiar faces, and I will be nervous. I will be praying regularly between now and then.
Wednesday morning I will wake up after only sleeping a couple hours. I will go about my day as normal, wondering what the rest of the day will hold. I will pray a lot for clarity and guidance. I will embark on a 40 day journey through the desert, relying on the strength and example of Christ to lead me safely through.
Tomorrow night I will take forever to sleep. I'll pray, and distract myself from my anxiety by playing guitar and piano.
Tomorrow afternoon I will go about as normal. I'll look forward to small groups and social engagements later that evening.
Tomorrow morning I will fall asleep during class. It'll be great.
Tonight I will try to predict things I can't possibly anticipate. I will laugh at my efforts and end up praying for God's Will to be done. I will have 1 John 4:4 on my mind. I will reflect on my day and be disappointed, but somehow more fulfilled than when I awoke.
Sunday evening I will collapse into a heap in bed, having gotten to know my peers at CCF a great deal more - hopefully, I will not be deathly ill.
Sunday morning I will 'wake up' after having slept maybe an hour or two, there will be an amazing breakfast and prayer time. It will be spectacular. I will probably cry. Hopefully, I will not be deathly ill.
Saturday into the wee hours, I will be playing cards and laughing a great deal - hopefully joining in spontaneous acts of awesome. Hopefully, I will not be deathly ill.
Saturday afternoon and I will eat pancakes. One of two pancake-related scenarios might occur. I hope not, though - because that would be embarrassing. Hopefully, I will not *get*deathly ill.
Saturday morning I will sing until my voice hurts a little, and probably form an uninformed opinion of the Gatlinburg speaker that will become refined as the weekend continues.
Friday night I will sing a bunch. It'll be cool.
Friday afternoon I'll sit in a van for a few hours with a bunch of awesome people and *probably* not get stir crazy.
Friday morning I will wake up later than I want to, but still end up at CCF in time to leave.
Thursday night I will be physically drained and spiritually charged, if this semester's DaaM trend continues. I will pack for the weekend. I will go sleep.
Thursday afternoon I will breeze through a Music Theory test and giggle the whole way home.
Thursday morning I will go to my classes and do most of the work for a group project. I will likely fall asleep during one of those classes, if not all of them.
Wednesday night I will sleep probably the most sound sleep I've had in a couple weeks, because I will no longer be anxious.
Wednesday afternoon I will sit in a familiar room in front of familiar faces, and I will be nervous. I will be praying regularly between now and then.
Wednesday morning I will wake up after only sleeping a couple hours. I will go about my day as normal, wondering what the rest of the day will hold. I will pray a lot for clarity and guidance. I will embark on a 40 day journey through the desert, relying on the strength and example of Christ to lead me safely through.
Tomorrow night I will take forever to sleep. I'll pray, and distract myself from my anxiety by playing guitar and piano.
Tomorrow afternoon I will go about as normal. I'll look forward to small groups and social engagements later that evening.
Tomorrow morning I will fall asleep during class. It'll be great.
Tonight I will try to predict things I can't possibly anticipate. I will laugh at my efforts and end up praying for God's Will to be done. I will have 1 John 4:4 on my mind. I will reflect on my day and be disappointed, but somehow more fulfilled than when I awoke.
2.10.2009
2.04.2009
I am a romantic until romanticism is required.
I pray. A lot more than I used to. But I've come to discover in the past few weeks that I am always skeptical of receiving answers... because its too abstract for me. I treat it like a realist.
And that's silly.
And in colloquially romantic things... I'm a die hard romantic until it all breaks down and fear and frustration set in. Then I'm a realist and cynic.
And that's silly.
I pray. A lot more than I used to. But I've come to discover in the past few weeks that I am always skeptical of receiving answers... because its too abstract for me. I treat it like a realist.
And that's silly.
And in colloquially romantic things... I'm a die hard romantic until it all breaks down and fear and frustration set in. Then I'm a realist and cynic.
And that's silly.
1.26.2009
If only...
If the world were a stage, there'd be tears in my eyes.
Bright lights, tap shoes, so much to amaze.
I'd dance with you slowly and meet your gaze
In an idyllic place with a perpetual sunrise.
I have to settle for photoshop and a tongue so knotted up, it'll take years to untie.
I want a downpour, a warm fire, candles, a good book, a friendly face, and a glittering tapestry after the clouds part. I want a lot of things that I fear I must let go of.
I speak cryptically, perhaps romantically - but this is just one thing I'd like. I'm selfish, and want more than I deserve. Especially given that I've already been given more than I deserve.
"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now am found
Was blind, but now I see"
It's amazing sometimes how God knows just what you need to hear, or see, or what have you to really knock you on your butt.
Santa Fe Chicken sandwiches, for example. Today I was knocked on my butt over and over again. Good company, gratitude, compliments, good songs, and lots and lots of love.
I need to journal more.
"Dear Father, I need You
Your strength, my heart to mend
I want to fly higher
Every new day again"
"If mercy falls upon the broken and the poor
Dear Father, I will see You there on distant shores"
One to one correspondence came up in regular conversation today. That's the idea that, with an infinite amount of numbers, there must therefore be an infinite amount of odds, and evens, and primes, and so forth. This means that, if you lined up every odd with every integer, you'd conceivably be unable to state that there are more integers than odds.
I think its a lot like that with the most recently quoted lyrics. I've been lost out in a storm for a long while - and not the kind of storm I want, with lots of rain and the pleasant pitter-patter on the roof. I've been in tumbling seas and fierce gales which have beaten me beneath the foam of the waves. But despite all that, I've reached closer to the shore because of God's mercy - I can always see Him on the distant shore. But I never reach the shore. Even on my best days, I fall short of that beach. It's why I think I like the beach so much... why I like the wind. It's like a small taste of the Glory of God. He stands on the beach beckoning to us, and calming the storms when it seems unlikely that we could ever survive.
We strive and we work for that shore so desperately... but God is with us regardless. He's the piece of drift wood, the spark of energy pumping into our limbs, the break in the clouds - and yet still, He is separate from us, there on the beach.
We, as integers, can think we will always outnumber the odds - yet somehow those obstacles and those sins are always right there with us.
I have a massive headache, and I think I'm running a fever - but that's neither here nor there, now is it?
Bright lights, tap shoes, so much to amaze.
I'd dance with you slowly and meet your gaze
In an idyllic place with a perpetual sunrise.
I have to settle for photoshop and a tongue so knotted up, it'll take years to untie.
I want a downpour, a warm fire, candles, a good book, a friendly face, and a glittering tapestry after the clouds part. I want a lot of things that I fear I must let go of.
I speak cryptically, perhaps romantically - but this is just one thing I'd like. I'm selfish, and want more than I deserve. Especially given that I've already been given more than I deserve.
"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now am found
Was blind, but now I see"
It's amazing sometimes how God knows just what you need to hear, or see, or what have you to really knock you on your butt.
Santa Fe Chicken sandwiches, for example. Today I was knocked on my butt over and over again. Good company, gratitude, compliments, good songs, and lots and lots of love.
I need to journal more.
"Dear Father, I need You
Your strength, my heart to mend
I want to fly higher
Every new day again"
"If mercy falls upon the broken and the poor
Dear Father, I will see You there on distant shores"
One to one correspondence came up in regular conversation today. That's the idea that, with an infinite amount of numbers, there must therefore be an infinite amount of odds, and evens, and primes, and so forth. This means that, if you lined up every odd with every integer, you'd conceivably be unable to state that there are more integers than odds.
I think its a lot like that with the most recently quoted lyrics. I've been lost out in a storm for a long while - and not the kind of storm I want, with lots of rain and the pleasant pitter-patter on the roof. I've been in tumbling seas and fierce gales which have beaten me beneath the foam of the waves. But despite all that, I've reached closer to the shore because of God's mercy - I can always see Him on the distant shore. But I never reach the shore. Even on my best days, I fall short of that beach. It's why I think I like the beach so much... why I like the wind. It's like a small taste of the Glory of God. He stands on the beach beckoning to us, and calming the storms when it seems unlikely that we could ever survive.
We strive and we work for that shore so desperately... but God is with us regardless. He's the piece of drift wood, the spark of energy pumping into our limbs, the break in the clouds - and yet still, He is separate from us, there on the beach.
We, as integers, can think we will always outnumber the odds - yet somehow those obstacles and those sins are always right there with us.
I have a massive headache, and I think I'm running a fever - but that's neither here nor there, now is it?
1.24.2009
A couple examples of how smart I am:
1. I chose my first solo driving experience to be a Saturday night drive from Lawrenceville to Athens, by way of 316. There were many, many cars with jerk-face drivers. Not that this will be uncommon.
2. I bought English Breakfast Tea to help awaken me for my early morning classes. I discovered today that it is a decaffeinated variety... which explains my inability to stay awake.
That is all.
2. I bought English Breakfast Tea to help awaken me for my early morning classes. I discovered today that it is a decaffeinated variety... which explains my inability to stay awake.
That is all.
1.23.2009
1.18.2009
Lessons
Galatians 5:13-15
1 John 4:20-21
Proverbs 15:30
Proverbs 19:21
Philippians 4:13
Matthew 28:19-20
Psalm 95:7-8
Psalm 118:1
Matthew 22:37-39
And so much more.
1 John 4:20-21
Proverbs 15:30
Proverbs 19:21
Philippians 4:13
Matthew 28:19-20
Psalm 95:7-8
Psalm 118:1
Matthew 22:37-39
And so much more.
1.17.2009
I had an awesome night. It's really cold in my room. I inherited a scarf and a phone, and had to do some detectiving to discover the owners of both. I was successful.
Tonight I enjoyed the stars. Certainly, they were computer animations and likely not an actual celestial configuration - but they were beautiful.
Thanks Wall-E.
Tonight I enjoyed the stars. Certainly, they were computer animations and likely not an actual celestial configuration - but they were beautiful.
Thanks Wall-E.
1.15.2009
Day 8
I am well, then.
"And who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower,
Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated:
I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,
Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea,
Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form'd, altogether changed, and
yet the same,
I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe,
And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unborn;
And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin,
and make pure and beautify it;
(For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfilment, wandering,
Reck'd or unreck'd, duly with love returns.)"
-The Voice of the Rain, Walt Whitman
I received a copy of Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman, for Christmas. I don't know what the man's religious affiliations are - but the above calls to me. Yesterday night, after the previous post - I had another conversation with another person that I hold close to my heart. Our conversation hovered upon many topics - but there emerged one common idea - the Holy Spirit. We talked about some of our favorite things, and memories. The beach, a cross made of candles, snow, bonfires, star-gazing, sunrises and sunsets, and the rain.
A mutual friend read her a poem, which I then found and read online. It was awesome. This turned our discussion to poetry, and ultimately to Whitman. At this point she recommended that I read The Voice of the Rain. I loved it - it made me appreciate rain more than I already do. Then she laid a truly beautiful idea on me. You've heard people refer to rain as tears from angels - but I like my friend's version better.
When we cry over the difficulties and joys in life - God collects our tears. Then, when things seem at their darkest and most barren, he pours them back down upon us to bring the much needed relief from drought. He pours down the rain to bring growth. He pours down the Spirit to bring growth as well - but clearly of another kind. I was inspired, and longed for the rain.
We reached the conclusion that perhaps the most near to perfection that we could obtain would be this: A nighttime bonfire on the beach, whilst a mix of snow and rain fall to the ground - but not from such a thick amount of clouds that the stars are obscured.
I mused that this day would not possibly live up to my expectations - but was quickly reprimanded - (paraphrased) "You'll wake up tomorrow to go to class and see the sunrise and it will be wonderful." She was right. I was up before daybreak, and watched as the touches of yellow and orange gave way from the pitch dark to a pale gray - and ultimately a soft blue.
But it didn't stop there - my Santa Fe Chicken Sandwich moment was weighing heavily on my heart - and today I felt tested in the most unexpected of ways. Yet all this imagery and presence of the Spirit, and all of the relationships I have in life saw fit to hoist me above the temptations that preyed upon me. I am devourer - but I find I am being satiated by something far more filling than cynicism and anger. Love. Tonight I watched as a flame was passed among my brothers and sisters, only I couldn't find my own candle. It was tucked in my coat, quite by accident. And I was disappointed by this - but rather than feel left out, I felt my heart leap. The warmth and light provided me by those around me was more than enough to make me feel that I belonged. As the lights were slowly distinguished the image on the monitor shifted to one of footprints preserved on a white beach. I was stunned. I sang my heart out and thought about the simple gifts I receive each and every day. The 'coincidences' that I too often do not attribute to a loving and merciful God. Then it was time for one final praise and worship song, and I could not help but release the tears that had been knocking at my eyes.
Rain Down. My heart is dry, but still I'm singing. Still I'm longing for the deluge to wash all the imperfections and mistakes from my heart and mind. Do not shut the heavens. Pour back upon me the tears that I've shed so that I no longer forget that you've minded each and every one of them. I am so loved.
I got my near-perfect day, anyway - even if I can't see the stars and felt no rain or snow.
"And who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower,
Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated:
I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,
Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea,
Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form'd, altogether changed, and
yet the same,
I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe,
And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unborn;
And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin,
and make pure and beautify it;
(For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfilment, wandering,
Reck'd or unreck'd, duly with love returns.)"
-The Voice of the Rain, Walt Whitman
I received a copy of Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman, for Christmas. I don't know what the man's religious affiliations are - but the above calls to me. Yesterday night, after the previous post - I had another conversation with another person that I hold close to my heart. Our conversation hovered upon many topics - but there emerged one common idea - the Holy Spirit. We talked about some of our favorite things, and memories. The beach, a cross made of candles, snow, bonfires, star-gazing, sunrises and sunsets, and the rain.
A mutual friend read her a poem, which I then found and read online. It was awesome. This turned our discussion to poetry, and ultimately to Whitman. At this point she recommended that I read The Voice of the Rain. I loved it - it made me appreciate rain more than I already do. Then she laid a truly beautiful idea on me. You've heard people refer to rain as tears from angels - but I like my friend's version better.
When we cry over the difficulties and joys in life - God collects our tears. Then, when things seem at their darkest and most barren, he pours them back down upon us to bring the much needed relief from drought. He pours down the rain to bring growth. He pours down the Spirit to bring growth as well - but clearly of another kind. I was inspired, and longed for the rain.
We reached the conclusion that perhaps the most near to perfection that we could obtain would be this: A nighttime bonfire on the beach, whilst a mix of snow and rain fall to the ground - but not from such a thick amount of clouds that the stars are obscured.
I mused that this day would not possibly live up to my expectations - but was quickly reprimanded - (paraphrased) "You'll wake up tomorrow to go to class and see the sunrise and it will be wonderful." She was right. I was up before daybreak, and watched as the touches of yellow and orange gave way from the pitch dark to a pale gray - and ultimately a soft blue.
But it didn't stop there - my Santa Fe Chicken Sandwich moment was weighing heavily on my heart - and today I felt tested in the most unexpected of ways. Yet all this imagery and presence of the Spirit, and all of the relationships I have in life saw fit to hoist me above the temptations that preyed upon me. I am devourer - but I find I am being satiated by something far more filling than cynicism and anger. Love. Tonight I watched as a flame was passed among my brothers and sisters, only I couldn't find my own candle. It was tucked in my coat, quite by accident. And I was disappointed by this - but rather than feel left out, I felt my heart leap. The warmth and light provided me by those around me was more than enough to make me feel that I belonged. As the lights were slowly distinguished the image on the monitor shifted to one of footprints preserved on a white beach. I was stunned. I sang my heart out and thought about the simple gifts I receive each and every day. The 'coincidences' that I too often do not attribute to a loving and merciful God. Then it was time for one final praise and worship song, and I could not help but release the tears that had been knocking at my eyes.
Rain Down. My heart is dry, but still I'm singing. Still I'm longing for the deluge to wash all the imperfections and mistakes from my heart and mind. Do not shut the heavens. Pour back upon me the tears that I've shed so that I no longer forget that you've minded each and every one of them. I am so loved.
I got my near-perfect day, anyway - even if I can't see the stars and felt no rain or snow.
1.14.2009
Day 7
The past week has been an interesting one. I've felt myself being tugged in many directions at once, but I'm happy to report that forward progress seems to be the victor. The summation of these pulls is not as large as they could be, but I'm content.
I'm determined. I'm loved. I'm in awe.
Every time in my life that I've been on the verge of despair or true fear, some sort of light has blasted my eyes, rendering me blind and dependent on a power I cannot fathom. Today it came in the form of a Santa Fe Chicken sandwich at Jason's Deli. Strange, huh?
I had a conversation today with a man I'm happy to call my friend. It was full of tough, probing questions and hypothetical situations. But it was also full of compliments and commendations. My personality flaws were laid out on the table. While none of these were a surprise, hearing them all at once came as a shock to the system. And yet it was during this conversation, after the realization that I had so much I could improve on, that I turned from despair and rather began to devour the second half of my sandwich. It was in silence that I was able to truly listen - not just to my friend, but to the ever forward pull at my heart that comes only from God.
I felt like John... the beloved. I felt so much love and awe in that moment that my end of the conversation trailed off significantly. Perhaps that was taken as a sign of defeat... but really I was so lost in thought, and in this feeling of acceptance and hope that I dumbstruck.
I am flawed. There is always room to improve no matter my ability to minister, to love, to listen. There are always loose lips, frowns, and frustrations that can be surrendered to God. Something that perhaps I should have been more aware of in the past. But in the mingling flavors of vinegar, guacamole, tomato, chicken, and wheat bread - I found myself laid bare, and for once in my life really and truly taking stock of my sins and shortcomings as a whole. Yet at the same time, I felt myself flush as I took stock of my talents and my pillars.
I've never been one to claim that God has something truly extraordinary planned for me... but suddenly its like I can't keep him out of my heart or my mind. Even if the reason for my lunch today does not come to fruition, I am certain that the Santa Fe sandwich is the tastiest that has ever touched my tongue - because its the first thing I've ever eaten feeling truly in the arms of God.
I was quiet for a couple hours following that first bite. I was afraid. I was worried that my feelings were merely an attempt by Satan to convince me that I was just trying to overlook the things I had to work on - that I would simply rest on my laurels and ignore my pitchforks. But the more I thought, the more I felt - the more I realized that something really was different. It is like a motivation that I've not felt my whole life. I really, really want to do something to further the reach of the love of God - no matter when or how.
To the missionaries out there - the ones I know and the ones I don't - thank you for all that you do. Thank you to the ministers and the leaders. To the Beaus, the Emilies, the Boo and Heather Powells, the Brittany Girls, the McDades, and the Brian Agnews - thank you for setting an example for me. Both first hand and not.
To everyone out there I've ever learned from - I am who I am because of your influence. And I love you.
I hope in a year, or 5, or 10, or at least before I pass from this world that I've been able to emulate you in some way. I know God is already proud of me... I just hope I can overcome that obstacles that keep me dissatisfied with myself.
Also - Friday Night Funsies is going to be awesome. That's the only thing I could think of to not make this all serious.
I'm determined. I'm loved. I'm in awe.
Every time in my life that I've been on the verge of despair or true fear, some sort of light has blasted my eyes, rendering me blind and dependent on a power I cannot fathom. Today it came in the form of a Santa Fe Chicken sandwich at Jason's Deli. Strange, huh?
I had a conversation today with a man I'm happy to call my friend. It was full of tough, probing questions and hypothetical situations. But it was also full of compliments and commendations. My personality flaws were laid out on the table. While none of these were a surprise, hearing them all at once came as a shock to the system. And yet it was during this conversation, after the realization that I had so much I could improve on, that I turned from despair and rather began to devour the second half of my sandwich. It was in silence that I was able to truly listen - not just to my friend, but to the ever forward pull at my heart that comes only from God.
I felt like John... the beloved. I felt so much love and awe in that moment that my end of the conversation trailed off significantly. Perhaps that was taken as a sign of defeat... but really I was so lost in thought, and in this feeling of acceptance and hope that I dumbstruck.
I am flawed. There is always room to improve no matter my ability to minister, to love, to listen. There are always loose lips, frowns, and frustrations that can be surrendered to God. Something that perhaps I should have been more aware of in the past. But in the mingling flavors of vinegar, guacamole, tomato, chicken, and wheat bread - I found myself laid bare, and for once in my life really and truly taking stock of my sins and shortcomings as a whole. Yet at the same time, I felt myself flush as I took stock of my talents and my pillars.
I've never been one to claim that God has something truly extraordinary planned for me... but suddenly its like I can't keep him out of my heart or my mind. Even if the reason for my lunch today does not come to fruition, I am certain that the Santa Fe sandwich is the tastiest that has ever touched my tongue - because its the first thing I've ever eaten feeling truly in the arms of God.
I was quiet for a couple hours following that first bite. I was afraid. I was worried that my feelings were merely an attempt by Satan to convince me that I was just trying to overlook the things I had to work on - that I would simply rest on my laurels and ignore my pitchforks. But the more I thought, the more I felt - the more I realized that something really was different. It is like a motivation that I've not felt my whole life. I really, really want to do something to further the reach of the love of God - no matter when or how.
To the missionaries out there - the ones I know and the ones I don't - thank you for all that you do. Thank you to the ministers and the leaders. To the Beaus, the Emilies, the Boo and Heather Powells, the Brittany Girls, the McDades, and the Brian Agnews - thank you for setting an example for me. Both first hand and not.
To everyone out there I've ever learned from - I am who I am because of your influence. And I love you.
I hope in a year, or 5, or 10, or at least before I pass from this world that I've been able to emulate you in some way. I know God is already proud of me... I just hope I can overcome that obstacles that keep me dissatisfied with myself.
Also - Friday Night Funsies is going to be awesome. That's the only thing I could think of to not make this all serious.
1.07.2009
Day Zero
It began with words, and it will end with words.
Then came a restless sleep - thoughts and anxieties ruling a weary head perched upon a throw pillow.
The drone of the alarm brought unwelcome clarity. It quickly dissolved into joy at the realization that today there would be smiles and eyes meeting my own which had long been absent.
A shower and a greasy pie filled the gap between awareness and travel.
Then it was time to go.
Singing and laughter.
Polka dots and more singing and laughter.
Good times.
Now I need to sleep. 6:30 wake-up call.
It began with words, and it will end with words.
Then came a restless sleep - thoughts and anxieties ruling a weary head perched upon a throw pillow.
The drone of the alarm brought unwelcome clarity. It quickly dissolved into joy at the realization that today there would be smiles and eyes meeting my own which had long been absent.
A shower and a greasy pie filled the gap between awareness and travel.
Then it was time to go.
Singing and laughter.
Polka dots and more singing and laughter.
Good times.
Now I need to sleep. 6:30 wake-up call.
1.02.2009
95 and 50.
Work with me.
The past several months have found me retreating further and further from any sort of meaningful interaction with other people. It did little to stunt my direct delivery and penchant for tactlessness. But as far as any sort of real vulnerability, there was nothing.
Over the break I've done a lot of praying and personal evaluation. I've reached the inevitable conclusion that I don't like this retreat that I've been on. In fact, I've been blind-sided time and again with emotional reminders that I am capable of compassion.
I got a few books for Christmas, sat in the living room through some sappy shows that my Mom was watching, and had some really good talks with friends I've known all my (or their) life. I realized that the front of put up is weak, cracked, and ready to come down. That's not to say I'll be perfect, but I'll probably be less callous, cynical, and irritable. Why?
One of the books I read, though entirely fiction, is based in fact. "Cross Country," by James Patterson is the most recent in the series of Alex Cross novels. In this particular novel, the psych profiler and detective find himself looking for a man with connections to Nigeria. His crimes in America have begun to echo common trends of murder and fear-induction that take place in Africa. As such, he travels to Africa to try and learn more, and perhaps catch the man. What ensues is a series of, and I emphasis this again, fictional events that include, kidnapping, rape, the murder of countless people - including children and entire families, and the recruitment of child soldiers. Things that actually happen, everyday, in places like Sierra Leone and Darfur. I've been aware of these things, from a cursory perspective, for a long time. But somehow, it took a fictionalized, brutal, and direct description to really get my attention. I found myself choking back sobs and tears while reading some of the things described. My imagine is far to vivid. And knowing that these things are a reality made my stomach turn.
The sappy show in question is "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition," which my Mom tapes and watches when she gets the chance. Putting aside the cheesy nature of the show's execution, the payoff is still a good one. A team of designers and builders build a new home for a deserving family - often one with a history of either tragedy or goodness that has put them in a tough spot. One family suffered numerous debilitating injuries rendering a couple members - both the patriarch and youngest son - paralyzed from the waist down. Another family of 6 adopted 5 siblings to prevent them from being separated in the foster system. They lived in a 916 square foot house. Not so much anymore. These were pretty awesome. But the one that stuck with me the most was about a woman whose mother survived breast cancer. The woman herself has managed to raise around 500,000 dollars for Relay for Life in a town whose population doesn't exceed 1,000. She was diagnosed with breast cancer 3 days before a relay event, has undergone a bilateral masectomy, a histerectomy, and gained a lot of weight due to her chemotherapy. Her house is falling apart, and her family was unable to afford her medical bills. They built her a new home, and put on a huge habitat drive for them.
Why did this one hit me so hard? We'll return to that.
I have a friend who I grew up next to. We've been friends our whole life. He was here this winter break to visit family. We spent a good bit of time together, but the moment that will most stick with me was a conversation we had in my garage whilst waiting a rainstorm. We talked politics and religion - two topics I don't often discuss. His views differ from mine substantially. He is an extraordinarily Conservative 'fundamentalist' (for lack of a better term) Catholic. I'm a fairly moderate Christian who attends Catholic mass but thinks it all boils down to the basic tennets that all Christians hold true. He was wearing a shirt that said "straight pride" and was constantly ripping on illegal immigrants. I take a more neutral stance. But that's a thought for another time. I subscribe to the "love God, love others" idea, as I told him during the conversation. Then it struck me how little I'd been actually working that into my walk.
The conversation moved on to more somber issues. Like how his family was doing. His father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer May 2007. He passed away in April 2008. Then his grandfather was diagnosed with cancer in mid-2008. He passed away on New Year's Day 2009. This conversation took place before his grandfather's passing, but he was already on his last leg. Yet again I was faced with real-life events that drove home the seriousness and the pain that can be caused by something I always knew was around.
95 and 50.
Psalm 95: 7-8 (slightly abridged)
...Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts...
I can't say with utmost certainty that God has been speaking to me lately. I try to 'converse' with him more often lately. But these have been red flags chipping away at my heart. Clearly I've neglected things in my life up until now - especially when it has come to the things that effect other people in my life. I'm hoping to fix that.
So you've got 95. How about 50? Any guesses?
It wouldn't be something written by me if it were serious all the way through.
"How the Grinch Stole Christmas!" By Dr. Seuss
An excerpt from page 50:
"And the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day!"
My heart feels full to bursting after this break and after the time spent with God. I'm looking forward to it continuing in the years to come.
Work with me.
The past several months have found me retreating further and further from any sort of meaningful interaction with other people. It did little to stunt my direct delivery and penchant for tactlessness. But as far as any sort of real vulnerability, there was nothing.
Over the break I've done a lot of praying and personal evaluation. I've reached the inevitable conclusion that I don't like this retreat that I've been on. In fact, I've been blind-sided time and again with emotional reminders that I am capable of compassion.
I got a few books for Christmas, sat in the living room through some sappy shows that my Mom was watching, and had some really good talks with friends I've known all my (or their) life. I realized that the front of put up is weak, cracked, and ready to come down. That's not to say I'll be perfect, but I'll probably be less callous, cynical, and irritable. Why?
One of the books I read, though entirely fiction, is based in fact. "Cross Country," by James Patterson is the most recent in the series of Alex Cross novels. In this particular novel, the psych profiler and detective find himself looking for a man with connections to Nigeria. His crimes in America have begun to echo common trends of murder and fear-induction that take place in Africa. As such, he travels to Africa to try and learn more, and perhaps catch the man. What ensues is a series of, and I emphasis this again, fictional events that include, kidnapping, rape, the murder of countless people - including children and entire families, and the recruitment of child soldiers. Things that actually happen, everyday, in places like Sierra Leone and Darfur. I've been aware of these things, from a cursory perspective, for a long time. But somehow, it took a fictionalized, brutal, and direct description to really get my attention. I found myself choking back sobs and tears while reading some of the things described. My imagine is far to vivid. And knowing that these things are a reality made my stomach turn.
The sappy show in question is "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition," which my Mom tapes and watches when she gets the chance. Putting aside the cheesy nature of the show's execution, the payoff is still a good one. A team of designers and builders build a new home for a deserving family - often one with a history of either tragedy or goodness that has put them in a tough spot. One family suffered numerous debilitating injuries rendering a couple members - both the patriarch and youngest son - paralyzed from the waist down. Another family of 6 adopted 5 siblings to prevent them from being separated in the foster system. They lived in a 916 square foot house. Not so much anymore. These were pretty awesome. But the one that stuck with me the most was about a woman whose mother survived breast cancer. The woman herself has managed to raise around 500,000 dollars for Relay for Life in a town whose population doesn't exceed 1,000. She was diagnosed with breast cancer 3 days before a relay event, has undergone a bilateral masectomy, a histerectomy, and gained a lot of weight due to her chemotherapy. Her house is falling apart, and her family was unable to afford her medical bills. They built her a new home, and put on a huge habitat drive for them.
Why did this one hit me so hard? We'll return to that.
I have a friend who I grew up next to. We've been friends our whole life. He was here this winter break to visit family. We spent a good bit of time together, but the moment that will most stick with me was a conversation we had in my garage whilst waiting a rainstorm. We talked politics and religion - two topics I don't often discuss. His views differ from mine substantially. He is an extraordinarily Conservative 'fundamentalist' (for lack of a better term) Catholic. I'm a fairly moderate Christian who attends Catholic mass but thinks it all boils down to the basic tennets that all Christians hold true. He was wearing a shirt that said "straight pride" and was constantly ripping on illegal immigrants. I take a more neutral stance. But that's a thought for another time. I subscribe to the "love God, love others" idea, as I told him during the conversation. Then it struck me how little I'd been actually working that into my walk.
The conversation moved on to more somber issues. Like how his family was doing. His father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer May 2007. He passed away in April 2008. Then his grandfather was diagnosed with cancer in mid-2008. He passed away on New Year's Day 2009. This conversation took place before his grandfather's passing, but he was already on his last leg. Yet again I was faced with real-life events that drove home the seriousness and the pain that can be caused by something I always knew was around.
95 and 50.
Psalm 95: 7-8 (slightly abridged)
...Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts...
I can't say with utmost certainty that God has been speaking to me lately. I try to 'converse' with him more often lately. But these have been red flags chipping away at my heart. Clearly I've neglected things in my life up until now - especially when it has come to the things that effect other people in my life. I'm hoping to fix that.
So you've got 95. How about 50? Any guesses?
It wouldn't be something written by me if it were serious all the way through.
"How the Grinch Stole Christmas!" By Dr. Seuss
An excerpt from page 50:
"And the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day!"
My heart feels full to bursting after this break and after the time spent with God. I'm looking forward to it continuing in the years to come.
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