black and white have never looked so gray

2011-09-12T11:16:00.000-07:00

In a world of light and movement
Wind blows the seasons into quarters
Tempting and retracting
Settling into something called warmth
Not hot or cold
Just warm and temperate

And here is what we like
A warm place
Not hot or cold
Just warm and temperate

And yet our visions of our future
They cannot be simply warm
Because warm is what we like
Where we are
Where we stay

But movement requires a taste
A taste for what is hot or what is cold
And a desire for change
A desire for the seasons

And if we do not move
We will certainly have our couch
That we have always had
That has the dent where we always recline

But the world, of light and movement
It does not save dents
Because it heals where it has been stepped upon
Changed, but not destroyed

Death and life
The earth, receiving again that from whence it came
Prepares the soil

And we like the life part
Not the death part
We're scared of the death part
Because it's written within us to protect the life part

And we think that death means we didn't protect life
But this is not so
Because life has a season
And if it stays on its couch
It ceases to be what it is
Movement

And time is movement
And in it exists all things
It cannot be stopped
Yet it is not the enemy
But rather the eternal reminder
That we are grass
Here today
Maybe not tomorrow

And so in my frailty
I desire to stop it all
Stop the seasons from changing
So I can begin to steady my grip
And stop feeling so nudged

Yet whatever I hold onto
Is moving as well
And it will live and die
Forcing me to accept hot and cold

And in this
Somehow and somewhere
There is quiet comfort
Though I forget it every thirty seconds or so
As I see the life and death of my inner peace
And I am forced to remember
I am one dependent

2011-06-28T07:42:00.000-07:00

Shall it be, how it is, and thus world without end?
Old words, ancient, but not exactly reassuring
As proverbs lays forth the ends of the wicked
and even the righteous
Is this how it should be, how it is, and thus world without end?
Walking streets, looking at eyes, who can tell the ordinary
even the extraordinary?
Yet as days unfold, it appears there are common and uncommon
Is this how it should be, how it is, and thus world without end?
Gold lies in ten houses while ten thousand catch rain in buckets
and drink only what is caught
Thirst is poverty and alms are forever sought
Is this how it should be, how it is, and thus world without end?
The lonely lie in bed hearing reminders of how they're forsaken
startling awake at neighbors opening the gate
and entering to see their loved ones
Is this how it should be, how it is, and thus world without end?
Chairs, tubes, beeps, serums, sweats and hallucinations
Nourished by magic, ever dependent and broken
And the mystery behind eyes may never be known
Is this how it should be, how it is, and thus world without end?
Bloody streets and angry rocks, in the name of God
even hatred for hair or nose
Bullets settling scores and scores always unsettling
Is this how it should be, how it is, and thus world without end?
Family secrets and unspoken rules for who has the right
even the capacity to speak
Falling into roles and adding on a sandbag for good measure
Is this how it should be, how it is, and thus world without end?
In spring rains come, and then they never stop coming
In summer cool winds push waves into angry eyes
washing home into memory
Is this how it should be, how it is, and thus world without end?
Party lines and picket lines and clever lines and votes
Toss in morality and religion, now decide who you are
Or you will be decided for
Is this how it should be, how it is, and thus world without end?
These are things I do not know

2011-05-17T06:55:00.000-07:00

Time runs along
distilling the familiar
until a faint taste upon our lips

Running to our western windows
we catch final glimpses
of all we held near

Nodding our head
knowing these days would come
we put on our jacket

The past has run cold
closeness is far
and we strain to see its embers

But now it returns?
since longed long enough
it all came back!

But no, it's different
changed
unfamiliar

For beams
in eastern skies
fracture the horizon

And what we see
only clearly reflected
is that the dead buried their own

But turning we see light
growing from lifeless earth
nourished from yesterday

Stepping into the unfamiliar
we feel the warmth on our face
and remember that life not always sets

And the cycle continues
challenging us to remember
that this we've been told before

And knowing that tonight life will descend
and dusk will silence what dawn revived
we resolve to remember that the sun, it also rises

2011-05-14T13:17:00.000-07:00

Bigger conversation
Loftier explanation
Lost in keeping up
and scrambling for comprehension

Scrapping who we were
cause now is better than ever
And the piano plays
the repeating bridge
Never arriving

Anticipation builds
and builds

and

builds
and

And it never turns over
We were waiting
but we'd never heard the chorus before
and we'd thought we'd recognize it

Sounds so strange to our ears
So far from what we think we'd choose for ourselves
But we just pushed the chords
yet could not feel our fingers

But the crowds clap their hands
filling our heads with applause
and we smile like we meant it
but inwardly
our eyes dance
to the right
to the left
knowing
we can't repeat

And so we are
to them
Something bigger
Something loftier
Capable of keeping up

But to us
But to I
and to me
We're all just scrambling for comprehension
Praying for the ability to encore

2011-03-28T10:05:00.000-07:00

Sit down, do not let your mind race too quickly. Recognize what you have have neglected and all you would like to accomplish. Oh, but don't worry, there is always something big around the corner. And you find yourself collapsing once again. So, get comfy and blow your expectations to bits. Who you thought you would be, who you thought would be around. You aren't and they aren't. So swallow hard and blink slowly. Breathe deeply and sigh a silent sadness. You are who you are, you are where you are.

Put the speaker in your ears and turn up the volume if you want. Drown out what you see and go where you think you should be. What they do not understand is that you deserve your castle in the sky. It's all them that don't understand. What a waste.

You're dying, you realize as summer comes. Spring is new life, summer is the scorching of beauty, fall is the world stretching, and winter is death. But, now summer is death. The reminder you should just love life. But it's not that simple. Nothing is. Don't be simplistic. Don't make me smile. You don't understand. No one understands. I am too unique.

The seasons are all the same. Nothing moves. Death is life and beauty is fire. Existence is dial-tone. So, put on your fancy shoes and comb your hair. And for God's sake, brush your teeth.

Walk. Walk slower because there's nothing you're too anxious to get to. Watch. Watch your step because there is a split in the earth. Crack. Crack your bone back into place, because something just broke you.

Walk! Walk! Walk!

But you can't. Moving yourself is impossible. So you wash your face with salt. When all else stops, the torrents behind the wall push through.

And it was all for this. So that you might mourn your slippery hands that are unable to hold on. And the months, years, and seasons, they all lacked sense and so does today. But crying doesn't. For some reason, the release seems proper, appropriate. And you can't stop it, and that seems appropriate too.

And so today is the day, maybe once again, where weakness is proven the most human. And strength must now be given, because all you can do is dampen the earth.

Now, receive. Be yourself, and do something unique. Open your hands.

2010-07-29T08:08:00.000-07:00

My last day in Jerusalem. The city did not fail to send me out in scorching fashion. I walked for about three hours in the blistering hot sun, trying not to irritate the new skin that was exposed from peeling. It was my last attempt to cram in the sights I wanted to see.

I climbed up Mt. Zion. Quite biblical, I'd say. By climb I mean I walked steadily up the road that was nicely paved. The sights I wanted to see were the cliche places everyone wants to see: King David's Tomb, Mary's Tomb, the ground where St. Peter denied Christ, the Last Supper room.

I look back and I somewhat chuckle. These Mecca's are almost all commercialized, swarming with people who want to take advantage of a few shekels from your pocket. It's everywhere. Water from the Jordan River, dirt from the Negev desert, oil from the olive trees of Galilee, widow's mites, Roman glass, ikons, it's completely endless. And yet people (myself included) flock to these places just to get a sense of something supernatural. We want to believe that the Bible is true and that the place where it was written holds mystical qualities.

And if those tingling sensations don't arise, then it means that the Bible is composed of something too human, I guess. I understand the desire for Israel to be something spectacular. And yet, if the excitement cannot be breathed through the air or felt in the dirt, a sense of disappointment threatens to settle in.

I am thankful to have been here for almost six weeks. I wanted this trip to be magical. And, in many ways, it has been life-changing. But not in a way my imagination wanted it. I wanted automatic love towards the Jewish people. I received tough conversations and irritating relationships. I wanted Biblical stories to feel alive. I received Hebrew language education and grammar rules. I wanted sacred places and hallowed grounds, I received dusty rooms, semi-amazing views, and salty seas.

I surely enjoyed my proximity to Biblical accounts, my stays in Biblical cities, my interaction with Biblical language. But what is special about this place is that it is not as foreign as I thought. Sure there are cultural barriers and frustrations in communication, but people live here, and people lived back then. King David was a real person. St. Peter was a real person. Mary was a real person. Jesus was a real person. To me, that is the magic. That I don't have to be elevated to another heaven or transcend to a different consciousness to find relatability.

And so, the Incarnation proves to be of infinite importance. That Christ would come as man, and relate with man, and love man, and feel as man, and die as man is where the infathomability sets in. The act of becoming us is astounding and can nowhere be tasted here in Israel. The only thing here is the history of mankind. But is that enough? What my journeys to all these places and the excitement that led me there tell me, is that we crave something more than we can see. And what my walks home and the feelings I felt on the way tell me, is that we were never meant to escape our humanity. There is something forever valuable in staying here and continuing on with life.

Israel is a beautiful land filled with beautiful people and with a fascinating history. Yet, it is ultimately just a place that I will leave behind. And I don't think I will be leaving the height of spirituality or the epitome of holiness. I think my purpose in following Christ will sit next to me on the plane ride and welcome me when I get home. Our salvation did not take the form of a geographic area. And when I think of this, I cannot ultimately be disappointed with anything I saw or didn't see. If I know how to love people better now than I did six weeks ago, than what is holy has the capacity and the ability to increase. So tomorrow does not hold a reminder of the erosion of our attempts at preservation, but the hope that we embody what is everlasting.

2010-07-22T05:17:00.000-07:00

It takes the unfamiliar to help us recognize what is home.

And that home is built, not forced or simply accepted.

So we inhabit, taking risk and looking for anchor.

And that anchor drags along the floor until we feel it catch.

Only to hear it scrape again as it chips away our relief.

So we float on, riding the tide in and out, in and out.

We wait, we wait, we wait.

And just before we dive in, we feel it catch again.

We dismiss, we disbelieve, we distrust.

Because before we have been disillusioned, diluted, deluded.

Uncertainly, we look out of the corners of our eyes at what we wish to stand firm.

And it does.

And it does not move.

And we build.

And we have our home.

And we have our loves.

And we have our little ones.

And they learn to trust the anchor.

And they learn to love home.

Until, for reasons unknown, we feel the familiar wave.

And tearfully we learn whom home really was all along.

Knowing together we float on.

And they are forced to learn for themselves what it is to cast anchor, choose to inhabit, and risk looking for home.

While we must choose few words and launch them into their unknown.

Though we are to be close behind.

And we pray for peace to carry them, that they might return to carry us.

As we are reminded, for the thousandth time, that the tide comes and goes as it pleases.

And our bodies feeble and our minds fragile

Need to hear once again that home is with us and home is out there.

Because we were made for land.

And someday, we believe, we shall.

2010-07-04T06:15:00.001-07:00

Does this world continue to decompose and thus doom us to searching the earth for what has been untainted?

This is the question that arose in my mind as I listened to Jack explain why he could never marry a woman in the United States. 'I have nothing in common with America. There are just no good examples of Christian women that I have found.'

I bristled at his comments, though I said nothing and attempted to listen to his whole reasoning. After he had finished what seemed more of a definitive declaration than a conversation starter, I was prompted to unpack his generalized comments and find hope where he seemed to throw in the towel.

From the start, we were on differing sides of the issue due to the fact that I have been with an American girl for about two and a half years. And, I have found in her what I believe to be sure evidences of Christ's love. Yet, the issue was deeper for Jack than finding a good woman. Jack's belief in total depravity seemed to suck sanctification out of the earthly realm. Thus, evil enters and poisons earth and its institutions exponentially with no upturn. Government systems, relationships, the environment, and entertainment are all pointers to a screwed up world.

Where I do not wholeheartedly disagree with the influence of brokenness upon all of creation, I do believe that a fundamental change occurred when Christ came. It seems logical to assume that when relationship with God was severed in the garden, an insatiable darkness entered the world. Yet, Christ entered a dark (and ever-darkening?) world as light itself. That light was brought to mankind in the most accessible form possible: fellow mankind. Is it ridiculous to assume that, as the light of Christ dwells and multiplies within mankind, that the earth is continually looking more like the Kingdom of Light?

Sure, the earth's government, environment, societal systems are broken and appear to be degrading. But, where then is the perfect? Must we travel to untouched jungles find the least screwed up nature? Must we visit the most unreached people to find the least screwed up humanity? Do we flee the darkness and pray for the damnation of those who walk in it? Or, do we enter the darkness, not as crusaders of light, but as those who live, believe, and speak the presence of Christ as hope and healing?

I do not think it is ignorant to say that today earth is more sanctified than when Christ came. It is hard to believe this when so much appears to be wrong with creation. But, ever-expanding hope for change and involvement in new life has to be a better option than acceptance of evil and retreat. I pray that my life proves me believing of my own words and not naive to reality. Yet, Christ didn't say, 'Hunker down and brace yourself for Armageddon' when he left earth. No, He said, 'Go into the world, and I will be with you always.' It is in those words that I see undeniable hope. I can live with that.

Disorientation

2010-06-24T06:59:00.001-07:00

I walked off the plane in Tel Aviv about ready to lose my mind. The trip total was almost 24 hours since I had left and my body was not happy about the new infection that had entered it. The icing on the cake was a 50 minute bus ride to Jerusalem that was driven by a man who had evidently never seen a brake pedal in his life. The man sat high in his seat sporting wrap around sun glasses while nine of us passengers survived in the back of his taller-than-wide Mercedes Benz van. It was all I could do to put my head on the seat in front of me and pray that I would not have to vomit in this unfriendly man's vehicle.

And so this is how I entered the holy land: dizzy, sleepless, and unable to speak clearly. Our first security check point was my first wake up call. The bus was stopped and a man with an M-1 machine gun stepped on to look at each of us, making sure we didn't appear suspicious. As if getting stopped at several security check points and having my carry on baggage held for 2 hours didn't wake me up enough in the airport, the reality of racial tension and military occupancy stared me down right there in my blue eyes to see if I was a part of the problem.

In terms of everyday life in Israel, I experienced the norm. The norm is to be turned away from entering because you are not Muslim. The norm is to be turned away because you are not Jewish. The norm is to ride the bus for Arabs or the bus for Jews. The norm is for 18 year old soldiers to carry around their prized machine guns. The norm is to have a gate on your dorm window and a bomb shelter next door.

It has taken me days to get used to the pace, the process, the routine of life here in Jerusalem. Though antibiotics depleting my system are surely not helping all that much either. In this readjustment for what is normal, I find that my racism, prejudices, judgments, and fears all rise to the surface. Because everything and everyone is either different or operates in a different manner here, I am faced with those things I didn't realize were below in my heart. And, I don't have the option of scowling at the differentiation, because I am the minority.

Living through a few days of almost complete unknown, including familiar faces or people to talk to, is certainly something I had thought would be no big deal. I have been proven wrong and am thankful that God has provided for me in numerous ways so far. And, as things become more familiar over the next few weeks, I pray that I am reminded to be grateful for all that I am given, so that I can, all-in-all, experience this trip with eyes to see what I never have.

2010-04-07T21:42:00.000-07:00

In so much darkness, there is light
and shadows cannot overwhelm
As children we weep in the corners of our pain,
hoping desperately that there might be one who reaches
For we know we have fallen hard and fallen far
But is there something to hope for?
That is the question we spin in our minds
Might we choose to breathe deep enough
to realize that our lungs can hold more
than the shallow inhales we make
Might we trust there to be more to life than what lies before us
and to be more to soak in than what we figured we'd quenched?
But when optimism tastes flagrantly trivial
how do we possibly take our next steps?
For, you see, we do not believe that our legs still work
Our minds explore the endless possibilities of theory
and yet, when we come down from the clouds
we cannot discern who neighbor is
We see only us, for our world is so painfully highlighting within us
that which does not feel right
To put trust in something believed corrupt only heaps more weight
upon our shoulders already burdened
Is there rescue?
For the one who settles too easily, thinks too lofty, feels too freely, loves too skeptically, believes too blindly, is there rescue?
Is there really light in those places, in those hearts?
Do we care to reach there or are there areas not even we shall touch?

Because there is so much grace

2010-03-07T14:43:00.001-08:00

Jesus I long for Thee
And sigh for Canaan's shores
Thy lovely face to see
And all my warfare o'er
Here billows break upon my breast
And brooding sorrows steal my rest

I pant, I groan, I grieve
For my untoward heart
How full of doubts I live
And full of grace Thou art
What poor returns I make to Thee
For all the mercy shown to me

John Berridge 1750

2010-03-05T08:26:00.000-08:00

I saw this video last summer and found it incredibly peaceful. I remembered it today and found it incredibly peaceful.

2010-01-29T06:07:00.001-08:00

I received my diploma last night, effectively encapsulating those years of my life within a blue, pleather, flippy-book thing. I will admit, I was excited to get it, though I often tell myself that formalities in life hold little value. Nevertheless, in lieu of much of life's general sense of informality, maybe a piece of paper with my name written in gothic font is a little more than just fine. Maybe its pretty cool.

Where I go from now is the result of a communal effort, not just my own dedication. Even now, I tend to think that I am just living my own life, in my own little world. But there are those around me whose lives and mine are daily intersecting. I read the news and am tempted to keep what is happening on the global front as just that, a different front.

An earthquake shook Haiti. I didn't feel anything. Not even a tremor.

460 people were killed in Chicago in 2009. I didn't hear a single gunshot.

J.D. Salinger died last night. Oh well, I just finished Catcher in the Rye last week. I can read his stuff without him.

But these events are not divorced from who I am. As Thomas Merton once wrote and I echo, "I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God himself became incarnate." I believe a harmony exists between my heart breaking for the brokenness of mankind and taking action. This would all be a lot easier if I just had hard rules to follow, issues of which I would take a stand always, consistently, no matter what. With so much need in the world, should I always give at least a dollar?

There has to be more beauty that the Holy Spirit offers than to try and salve the world's wounds with a donation here and a donation there. I want to listen closely and feel where my heart, that I pray is always seeking compassion, is urging me to extend myself more than usual and to give generously of what I have been given. But always, I desire to honor the Incarnation and consider all human life worthy of my time, thoughts, and emotions. Otherwise, I am denying the fact that my life is a fabric woven with those who considered me worthy their time, thoughts, and emotions. No man is an island. Neither am I.

Winter

2010-01-20T21:48:00.000-08:00

Chicago freezes over tonight. An interesting mixture of rain and ice has covered everything, ensuring tomorrow's commute to be exponentially more exciting for most. The mild weather over the past few days made me think that winter might be headed for the door and spring might come early. I didn't bother to check on the date of Groundhog day, but I think they say winter sticks around for at least six weeks after. Nevertheless, tonight confirms that winter is here to stay as long as she so desires, not to be pushed around or intimidated by anyone.

Though I find this time of year to be most laborsome in terms of mental clarity and all around motivation, I am coming to be grateful for the fact that seasons do exist. There is a particular anticipation that is built up during these short days, one that consists of miniature letdowns. I know that spring is equated with late March and April onward. But, some part of me hopes that this year will be the exception. I guess the absence of a planetary realignment shouldn't really disappoint me.

A sleep of sorts is put over nature right now. The sun opens up every so often as if to remind us that the created order is fully aware of what is happening...rebuilding, renewing, refreshing. The snow and ice slows us down, helping us remember that life does not bloom at our beck and call. And when those days come where the clouds part for a number of hours, and the sun cracks its eye to see how we are doing, I want to soak it up and be thankful that life continues to flow within me.

Something unique happens when, in the midst of dreariness, a portion of happiness shines through. The good in life tastes a little richer, or so it seems to me. I caught the eyes of a homeless woman the other day while she bestowed God's blessing upon me, the first eyes of a stranger I have bothered to look for in quite some time. Maybe it was that no cloud existed in the cold sky, but her eyes spoke brightly. And it is those moments that help me appreciate winter. I also saw my first bowl-cut in 5 years on a junior higher the other weekend, and that helped me appreciate winter too.

But seriously, I have a warm place to sit now while the sleet comes down and for that, and for many other things during this season, I give thanks. It is more than I was ever promised.

2010-01-11T21:05:00.001-08:00

My recent days post-college have been wonderfully uneventful. Maybe a better way of putting it would be that no grandiose plans for my life have been pounding me in the back of my head, urging me to not to waste time. The fact of the matter is, the last four years of my life just blew by me. I don't live in my own room on the second floor of a big brick house in a quiet, small-town neighborhood. I now share a one bedroom apartment above an Irish pub in a gentrified, middle-class, northern neighborhood of the third largest city in America.

I do not have papers to write or chapel to attend. I serve schnitzels and beer a couple of times per week and then go to a Presbyterian church on Sundays, often followed by brunch with my girlfriend. My routine no longer includes lectures and dorm life, rather mandolin lessons and swagbucks. Oh yeah, I also do crossword puzzles now as well.

I have an entire future ahead of me. Yet, I am not sure if my future includes years or days. It wouldn't be particularly glorious to keel over at this point, at least thinking of my global impact. I have accomplished a degree, but what else? Nevertheless, the opportunity to spend five or more days alone in the last week and a half have brought me peace, not anxiety, gratefully. I am learning to value the day-to-day. I know there will be mile markers, but if I look for those only, I will miss the small things that give the big things their potency.

I just pray for the ability to move and the drive to value movement. And with the opportunity to do whatever I want right now, I'd like to start doing those little things I always thought might be fun, and be thankful if I am actually granted the means to do so. Otherwise, I'm sure there are details hidden in what I have come to see as familiar that will continually remind me that there is always something to further explore.

Top 12

2009-12-07T20:29:00.000-08:00

These are my top twelve months of 2009 in no particular order:

1. June

2. October

3. May

4. February

5. March

6. April

7. November

8. January

9. September (coincidence?)

10. December

11. August

12. July

Honorable Mention: December '08

2009-11-20T22:39:00.001-08:00

-there are times-

amidst endless lists of to do's
and countless complaints of life's unfairness
throughout clouded days of green and gray
when joy is not on our face
and sadness wants inside...
within the loneliness of the silent day
when acknowledgement is scarce
and accomplishment lacks importance

- we hear a call-

and a word enters that darkened day
to reflect the light that has been burning
all the while we failed to see it...
and those clouds separate in time for sunset
and the hope that was available
is made colorfully clear

-be thankful-

and so behind the veil lies the reminder
that we were not forgotten
and today held more than all we had been grateful
for the sun was shining
behind our sight so clouded...
this not to shame us for the lack of faith today
but to dissolve tomorrow's doubt
that light has been lost in darkness
and sorrow has swallowed peace

-for His love will not lose its grip-

Amen

2009-09-15T09:33:00.001-07:00

Wake up, you sleeping boy

The dayspring arrives and your eyes are but half awakened

Do not spend your moments squinting at what could be yours

Fear not, you trembling boy

For it is not your lot to sort the pieces

Your needs are seen

O, how your needs are known

Be joyful, you somber boy

The Light of Life shines brightly

And beckons you to sit and soak

Get up, you silly boy

You were made for so much more

Yes, so much more than just yourself

Please remember, forgetful boy

That life's made new again today

A day for renewing once again

I love you, fickle boy

Though you find it hard to trust

Never will I forsake you

I am yours, but first you're mine

eyes to see

2009-08-21T13:54:00.000-07:00

I am sitting here thinking of what to write for my next blog post. It has been a while since I have written and a certain part of me thinks I am obligated to produce something new. At the the same time, I know I like to write. I have been gifted in words to the point where I find it therapeutic. When I determine for myself that I must put something on paper, I begin to distrust the exercise. I know I do not need another avenue for ego-boost. I could certainly look back on the last few years of my own public writing and combat my former way of thinking. But, then again, I know how I have changed and do not think I need to continually reprove myself in front of others...internal blog wars, if you will. So, I continue to sit here and wonder what to write.

A man was just sitting outside this coffee shop with a copy of a magazine meant to help the homeless of this city. He has kind eyes, though one is lazy to the left. I have seen him a couple of times at the same corner, selling the same magazine. He sports a wrinkly, maroon oxford with black slacks and a cubs ballcap. Chicago tells us not to buy from unlicensed vendors. If I was in charge of those permits I would certainly present one to this rogue peddler. I find his demeanor quite respectful and I have been glad to see a number of passerbys respectfully refuse his offer, looking him right into the lazy eye. Though sales may be low, the interactions have been humanizing on both ends.

A younger man walked by earlier when I was writing about the vendor wearing a t-shirt with the logo of the nearby sex-store written in red across the chest. He looked unsure of himself as he walked down the street, eyes darting from ground to a few feet in front of his stride. I wonder how he got that job? I judge that place and the subsequent solicitors that frequent it every time I go by. But this guy actually works there. That is a whole new level. He sells sex. I find his lifestyle less than worthy of my respect. I think I lumped his humanity in there too.

And here I sit, typing away on a little white computer with a fancy piece of fruit that lights up on the opposite side of the screen. What do people see in my eyes as I glance up to see them stride past? Who is deeming me worthy of their respect? Who is deeming me worthy of their judgment? How much is assumed of my own person in the second or two that I am seen through the glass? I do not like the liberty that I take on piecing together the lives of strangers. I need to be careful of the conclusions I make as well as the prayers I compose of people I do not know.

I am presented with the liberty to love everyone. Beyond that, I am obligated to speak, listen, and understand before I determine. And, I am not sure how much determining I am to do in this life anyway. I will leave that mystery up to Jesus. I must be grateful for my own story, ask for the boldness to share the maker of that story, and trust that I will be given the eyes to see how much He cares for the stories of all others.

Peace and Light

2009-04-11T21:31:00.000-07:00

The hour has come. For millennia nature has groaned under its heavy burden. The whole of the created order has limped for far too long.

Glimpses of hope for three years caused wonder. The weeping found solace, the dead brought life, the hungry given bread, the homeless laid down.

From the city of the king came a hope of something greater: an invitation incarnate.

For his works he was despised. For his words he was mocked. For his silence he was beaten.

A crown of twisted shame bore into his brow. Nails of brutality pierced his flesh. Upon a cursed tree hung the morning star of heaven.

"May these wounds bind theirs!" was his cry.

"It has all been done!" was his last.

Light ripped through darkness as a veil from top to bottom... Earth cracked as a bone re-set...Death turned upon its head...All that the broken might be healed.

Dear brothers and sisters, all the beloved of God, here is your hope.

Merton

2009-04-06T20:48:00.000-07:00

Thomas Merton, in one of his journal compilations entitled Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander writes a piece describing an experience where he realized the connectedness of humanity. I have found this profoundly moving both in its style and in the nature of the revelation. I hope you enjoy.

In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness

The whole illusion of a separate holy existence is a dream. Not that I question the reality of my vocation, or of my monastic life: but the conception of "separation from the world" that we have in the monastery too easily presents itself as a complete illusion: the illusion that by making vows we become a different species of being, pseudo-angels, "spiritual men," men of interior life, what have you.

Certainly these traditional values are very real, but their reality is not of an order outside everyday existence in a contingent world, nor does it entitle one to despise the secular: though "out of the world" we are in the same world as everybody else, the world of the bomb, the world of race hatred, the world of technology, the world of mass media, big business, revolution, and all the rest.

We take a different attitude to all these things, for we belong to God. Yet so does everybody else belong to God. We just happen to be conscious of it, and to make a profession out of this consciousness. But does that entitle us to consider ourselves different, or even better, than others? The whole idea is preposterous.

This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud. And I suppose my happiness could have taken form in the words: "Thank God, thank God I am like other men, that I am only a man among others." To think that for sixteen or seventeen years I have been taking seriously this pure illusion that is implicit in so much of our monastic thinking.

It is a glorious destiny to be a member of the human race, though it is a race dedicated to many absurdities and one which makes many terrible mistakes: yet, with all that, God Himself gloried in becoming a member of the human race. A member of the human race! To think that such a commonplace realization should suddenly seem like news that one holds the winning ticket in a cosmic sweepstake.

I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. "There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun."

This changes nothing in the sense and value of my solitude, for it is in face the function of solitude to make one realize such things with a clarity that would be impossible to anyone completely immersed in the other cares, the other illusions, and all the automatisms of a tightly collective existence.

My solitude, however, is not my own, for I see now how much it belongs to them-and that I have a responsibility for it in their regard, not just in my own. It is because I am one with them that I owe it to them to be alone, and when I am alone they are not "they" but my own self. There are no strangers!

Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God's eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are.

If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed...I suppose the big problem would be that we would fall down and worship each other. But this cannot be seen, only believed and "understood" by a peculiar gift.

the still, small one

2009-02-05T21:15:00.000-08:00

Just listen...What do you hear?

Filter out the add-ins and you are left with just the ringing of ears, the high pitched leftovers of a fast-paced world. Nothing speaks, no one calls, yet a pace has been set that keeps you from being present. The clanging around of the troubles of soul have been given momentum from the trials of this day. The ricochets of thought set in motion by lack of trust and burden of responsibility echo into the moments when only peace is desired. There does not seem to be enough minutes in the day that will allow the sediment to settle to the bottom, time enough to sift out the lies.

So you work.

You build faster, you push harder, you run longer, you think bigger. It is your job to tame this life, so wild and blood thirsty. It is your purpose to organize, orchestrate, fortify, solidify this future of yours for if you were to let it go, it would simply fade into the silence.

And you are scared of the silence.

What is said when there is none is certainly not from you. Only an outside voice can dissolve a personal surrender to quietude.
And you hold your plans so high.
For you do not trust that another might love you more than you love yourself. Your efforts just might be insufficient.

But you are not without excuse. This life, so wild and blood thirsty, has taken its bites from you. Your flesh is marred and your heart has its memories. You had at one time trusted and been knocked over the head with your naivete.

But never again. You learned that the world was not your friend and that your friends may not be just that. Your life, so beautiful and promising, was no longer what you lived, but what you conquered.

But a hope, a blessed hope, bleeds through the cracks in your stubborn foundation and drips silently into the well of pain. A peace speaks softly to the insecurities just to make its presence known.

No shouting, no impatience, simply presence.

And slowly you learn that this life is not so wild and blood thirsty for it has a creator who is good and lovely. And softly you hear someone say they do not want you to do so much as they want you to be.

Be quiet. Be still. Be thankful. Be near.

And the fears of potential and the reminders of sin are not eradicated but superseded. And the past returns from its voyage of demonization. All that you are, all that you have been, and all that you shall be is in the hands of one who has known you long before you realized you had a life to lose.

It is not so much that the promise of ease is given, but the assurance that you are seen...that there is one who weeps with you who weep...there is one who laughs with you who laugh...there is one who will reprove you who scorn.

And you will be taken to that place where you might hear of great love if you only stop and realize that it is not your task to make noise.

Open your ears.

The ringing has stopped, replaced by the sound of a beating heart. You do not command the life to flow through your veins. Whether or not you pay attention, you are sustained. You are cared for. And from there, might you begin this day. From the work that is being done within you and apart from you, might you begin to listen for where you must extend your energies and where you must accept your inabilities.

For My gentle voice may ask you to get up and move or I may tell you to lie down and rest. Will you listen when I speak...

Salt and Sea

2008-11-19T22:02:00.000-08:00

An ocean lies within us all.

We are experts at levees and dams to hold back the waves
Waves that toss and turn within us
And we build confidently and assuredly

Torrential winds threaten the soundness of my knowledge
But time is the true teacher and I am but a babe
I have seen suns rise, but never one setting

Fragility is my frame and minute cracks compose my footing
I anxiously wonder where it is, my weakness
Reluctantly I ask to see my complexion

I learn only from these holes
As the sea splashes through my eyes
And salt stains my face

Only in the midst of a flood do I finally see
(or see once again)
that I am known through and through

Distinctive as the salt on my lips
Is my soul before the Almighty

We all have the sea within
But we all taste a little different

And so we see that you know me and I you
But better yet, He knows me and He knows you

And He is the sea that will continually rage
Testing the levees and breaking the dams
Until we stop trying to hold back the waters

And I am the salt that will continually float
Upon the sea that changes you and changes me
Until I no longer fear being taken into the deep

Here am I

2008-10-26T19:06:00.000-07:00

O how I wish I had time in my pocket. I could pull it out and adjust accordingly. I could speed it up and alleviate problems or speed along anxiety. I could slow it down and make love linger or extend the stay of peace. I would be the conductor and the executer. I would be the proud and I would be the powerful.

But this is not the case. I am no god. I am the weak and I am the needy. I am the poor in spirit and I am the crying soul.

I am losing seconds because I play the timekeeper. I crank away minutes, hours, and even days. I am losing my life because I wish the future to be now. I want seasons to change quicker than the sun sets. I want life to turn over to the moment that is easy and comfortable.

I find yet again that I cannot bring the future to the present any faster than has been set from the beginning of it all. However, I can blur the present to appear as a fast-forward; I can blur so that tomorrow arrives and I realize I barely saw yesterday. Time went into a vacuum and I am left with the black hole. I turn the calendar but cannot recall the past.

The reality is that the present is where I always reside. I do not deny a hope for the future or dismiss reverence for the past, but I can never leap or return. I am here and here is me.

Jesus met us in the present. From the timeless He stepped into time, and this to show His concern for the now.

How often do I fail to see that, in addition to the trials that are here, all things join that trial as well. Goodness from heaven cannot always be in the future if given from a God that is now. Perfect peace cannot reside only in the past of its prince is here now. The eternal one not only controls time but encompasses it. The only time I can live is now.

I do not wish to wish away the today I do not want. I have to live from today to today for today is all I have.

Each moment is necessary for the next; and this so I might love what is before me, not for what it does to me but for who it makes me. I shall love the moments that make me so that I might be a moment that makes another.

It is this connectedness that brings me joy. It is the communal refinement of a broken people that reveals the importance of me living my today along with all others. May we not inadvertently wish away our sanctification by trying to live what has not yet come or remain in what has already gone. May the grace of God keep us all in our today with a joyful hope for our next.

And yet I speak

2008-09-10T19:35:00.000-07:00

What does it mean to pray? I find the question quite daunting as well as the action simply ridiculous. What should say and how often am I to say it? At what point does my sentence become prayer?

One man cries, "Oh God" and the other "My Lord God". Who am I to say which man prayed? Is it the Hearer hearing that determines prayer? Is it the intention of the sayer saying that assigns the title?

When do my words sweep horizontally and when are they drawn upwards? How often are the internal cries of my heart presented before the Eternal Healer? I did not give them, but could they truly be an invocation better left never said?

Can prayer be taken from me? If so, then why must I ever open my lips? Why does it matter that I pray for you or even for me?

I wonder if prayer is not for Him or for you, but for me. My words are surely to Him and about you, but what I do, is it not actually and really for the growth of me? I think that were I to be conscious of this as I pray, then my heart would swell with either pride or pity. However, it seems to me that when I pray, it might be sincerely about you and yet effect both of us. For me speaking to Him changes me and may change you, but certainly me every time.

Yet in this whole process, I may long to see you changed, healed, or held while all along praying my own transformation. Even the faith that my prayer is being heard is strengthened when I willingly confess.

If I have ever desired to pray, do the times when I lack such desire pass by without a prayer from my heart? If so, then it seems that it would be better to give to God what I think He would want and not what I am truly feeling. That is to assume a wooden ritual of bent knees and lofty words are what the God of Heaven desires more than the groanings of honesty.

But I do not think this the case. I see true and formal prayer to be the honest confession of desires that are being painstakingly conformed to those of Christ. And this honesty, as far as I can grasp, includes a recognition of impure motive and the desire of its refinement. And I see true and informal prayer as the honest acknowledgment of feelings that are being painstakingly reformed to desire Christ. And this honesty, as far as I can grasp, includes a recognition of misguided feeling and the desire of its refinement.

I have questions and I have very few conclusions. I am from here moving forward and I shall not resist what I believe to be a good work. And so, even when I am confused as to what my prayer is doing, either my heart or my mouth will still speak. I suspect, then, whether by word or not, I have just uttered my supplication.

Death at my feet

2008-07-22T17:24:00.000-07:00

I walked and noticed nothing
No change in my step
No hindrance to my footing

A life that exists apart from me
Growth occurring independently
Birth, re-birth, death

I am able to digest but a morsel
Not a grand feast may I enjoy
A great movement free of me

But I move in inches
My bite still bites
An infinite cycle containing time

A pure moth of white and black
Not a care of life or death
Or so it seems to me

I sit concerned inside
Turning over problems and fears like a rolodex
Looking for the next helper to call

Death is at my feet
Death is from my feet
My feet an unbeknownst murderer

A piece of time in that infinite cycle
Containing a creature coming to existence
And fluttering to its resting place

Destroyed without warning
Becoming a mark on a toe
Something to be cleaned up and thrown away

Life comes and life goes
I have no say
I have no control

There must be one concerned
For then death had no reason
Greater still a life

O how I hate

2008-04-25T21:14:00.000-07:00

A walk down the street screams truth louder than I can bear. A simple beggar is asking for a few cents for bus fare. An unwashed and ragged youth devours a meal given second hand. A boisterous and irritating woman speaks of incoherent nothings on her personal telephone. A flock of disrespectful and throwaway children spew vulgar speech without regard for all others.

I am walking amidst this pathetic composition. I slaughter their humanity with thoughts of disgust and contempt. I am the standard and all others are falling short by their mere existence. Anger sleeps within me as an unbeknownst bedfellow. It only takes a weakened body and a wearied soul to awaken such atrocity. The love I claim proved to be estranged and insolent. I almost weep at the realization.

My judging heart takes consideration for nothing but the present. The past that so savagely molds our soul I cannot sever from the currently visible. The miracle lies not in beautiful complexion or healthy teeth, but in the simple fact that life continues to move forward - in the fact that any good or any beauty remains to this very day - in the fact that the capacity to love and the essence of humanity abides in any form whatsoever.

In sharing a common thread of humanity with billions of others, I seek the most basic of relationship. In denying that basic of relationship, I begin to lose what it is that makes my life beautiful. The hatred I can exhibit surely stems from pain as well as intrinsic brokenness; however, this hatred will slowly isolate pieces of my existence.

These pieces are not simply particles of undefinable matter, but are actually persons with eyes and fingers and souls. When I fail to love another individual it is my own being that tears. No matter my attempts to slander and debase, the infinite God continues to impartially love this essence called humanity made manifest in every living person. It is this infinite love that gives us infinite worth. It is this infinite love that brings infinite unity.

I am unique in my personality, but not in my substance. When I despise another, I despise not only that personality but the core that frames it. I have that same frame. I am built with nothing more and nothing less. If I am impartially loved due to my origin, and all others share that origin, then my love not only opens my eyes to who I truly am, but who the beggar or the whore truly is as well.

I am a wanderer in a darkened world. I am a worn soul in need of a helper. I am a fragile sojourner held only by the grace of God. I am a human being and I am a vagabond. I am a human being and I am a prostitute to my idols. I am a human being and I am a throwaway. Through all of this, I am loved and I must love. For what I am is all can ever be until I finally see face to face.

Sickness

2008-04-10T21:58:00.000-07:00

Sudafed
Garlic
Water
Vaporizer
Elderberry Extract
Herbal Resistance fluid
Zinc Supplement
Cod Liver Oil
Neti Pot
Vitamin C
Colloidal Silver
Kombucha

- The previous is a list of everything I have tried to rid myself of a sinus infection. I am literally supporting my immune system 101% and this body of mine cannot gain the upper hand. Its not even worth hoping when I wake up feeling a little better. I will probably forget eat to that orange or drink those 8 glasses of water and my body will roll over and submit to this nagging sickness again.

Possible Solutions:
1. Go to the doctor (Not preferred due to monetary reasons and laziness)
2. Take more colloidal silver (although that has turned at least one man completely blue - youtube it)
3. Add Pom Juice (extra expense)
4. Remove soda from routine - ( The "herbal remedy and mr. pibb diet" doesn't seem to work well)
5. Remove nose (obvious disadvantage)

- Maybe I should just welcome this infection as a new part of my life. I'm down with a good parasite.

Writing Reflective

2008-03-27T22:37:00.000-07:00

My hiatus feels quite extensive. It has been a number of months since I have publicly written as I am now swinging back from another pendulum maximum. My life has never been fixed on middle ground. For some reason, I equate such a midpoint with stagnation and mediocrity. On the other hand, the extremes of belief and thought are lonely and rigid, full of judgment and pride.

It seems that life is not to be centered on a fulcrum while ideas and convictions teeter-totter on either side; myself just an unmoved observer of mankind's perpetual past time activity of see and saw, did and done. I have found that I can pretty much remain unchanged and unmotivated (although quite unhappy) if I am utterly dishonest.

A rejection of who I am, what I enjoy, whom I care, or how I feel eventually leaves me confused as to my very purpose on this earth. I know this might sound drastic and dangerous, but it only makes sense that being honest with myself would allow me to weave together internal processes with external out-workings. So I continue on - seeking truth with a trembling heart at times. Can I trust that the desire for truth will be rewarded or at least recognized as honest?

I continue to walk. The once-so-clear future exists in a haze of uncomfortability. All I can do is put the right in front of the left. Whether my right is right I do not know for certain. Faith has a new meaning.

Ostensible

2008-01-24T22:46:00.000-08:00

There once was a young man named Ostensible. This man had always thought the world existed in some sort of obtainable and conquerable state. Thus, acquiring knowledge meant replicating verbatim the wisdom of some well respected elder within a soul that had no business claiming such well formulated ideas. When anyone would propose a deep question, he could respond from rote memory the profound answer and silence the proposer. Unbeknownst to himself, Ostensible was digging a solemn grave where his speculative rationale would soon lie.

One day, Ostensible was doing nothing special in a particularly not-so-special way. A song played in his head with lyrics to which he so often paid no attention. Several words were suddenly realized; words that viciously challenged some of the supposedly known truths the young man so boldly showcased. First reaction was to retort and confidently hush the questioner. To nobody's surprise, the provocationer had no ear to hear the debunkery, leaving Ostensible to his own thoughts with only his own thoughts to reply.

This musical artist, as he most likely considered himself, dared challenge the very concept of truth. There seemed to be some sort of cocky orientation within his statement that bore quite deeply into the supposed foundation that Ostensible proudly boasted.

What could this mean? What might be the proper response? Anger would do no good, for Ostensible desired peace within his mind and resolve within his heart. Ignorance would only postpone the inevitable and cause the question to threateningly loom in the shadows. Fear was of no avail. Ostensible knew that fear only gave birth to an onslaught of other torments. What, then, should he do?

What was truth to this young man? Could it be changed by the words of a doubter? Could it be kept safe solely by one who believes? Ostensible was forced to think about what it was that made truth just that: truthful. So Ostensible thought about such things as this:

Truth could not be something subject to manipulation. Truth had to be equally interwoven in all of humanity in order to differ from opinion. Truth had to come from outside himself. For purpose to exist, truth had to be revealed. For purpose to exist, truth had to be findable. So that truth might be able to be found in many things, it must also trace back to a central point of emanation so that the many truths might be unified in essence.

Ostensible was pleased by his thoughts; they were his own. He knew he had not triumphed or fully procured, but even scratching the surface brought about more gratification than any replication had ever done. The internal interaction with himself felt humanizing. Better yet, the entire process provided the relief of an anxiety that Ostensible had never known to exist. Challenging what had been rigidly held onto made this young man sure of what was eternal and allowed the temporary to melt away. Confidence now resided in knowing how to process big ideas even when rigid outcomes were no longer a result of the exercise. Uncertainty was okay to Ostensible as he finally realized that he was living up to his own name.

from my room

2008-01-03T12:30:00.000-08:00

My room has become a biosphere of some sort. I have found that I enjoy not leaving it for hours on end. As I sit here writing, I have successfully completed 13 hours straight in my bed. This sounds quite hermit-like and I realize this, however, I have not had this much alone time in ages.

With the added luxury of a wireless network, I can access the interweb at will. With this chocolate bar with butterfinger pieces, I have no need for other sustenance. I can look out my windows and see the snowy trees and the bright sun that has been so favorably been shining for days on end. There is a dove outside my window puffing itself up so that it doesn't freeze in the single digit temperature. Well, maybe it's a pigeon...I can't tell the difference. I can read, write, sleep, eat, talk, walk, sneeze, freeze, and many other things just from this room.

Most importantly, I can now do some sufficient thinking. I came home from school and found that an abundance of memorabilia from my late uncle jeff had been placed in my room. For once, I am being stirred to consider who this man was and for what reason not only all of this stuff, but my very name was given to me. It might be time for me to look deeper into my past.

Thankfully, my family doesn't yell at me to leave this room because I might then begin to feel bad for resting when resting is really what I believe I need at the moment. Just having a room to call my own and various things to enjoy is a real blessing. I have so much crap...crap that I really like, but don't need. It's nice to appreciate my crap and use it wisely for once rather than feeling bad that I have it. There is a time and place for having and giving and using and I feel at peace with the pace i'm setting right now.

I realize that this is not the most profound of writings, but I am enjoying myself just typing. Words come out of my mouth so fast and so often that it is nice to make them come out more deliberately and gracefully through my hands. That dove is still there and the sun still shines and that kind of stuff makes me smile. The only thing that could make this day better is if orion is unobstructed tonight for the sixth evening in a row. Well, I guess that was an exaggeration because I am sure that other things could happen that would make this day good, but i'm just a big fan of stars and the shapes that we have determined they make in the sky.

The dove just flew away. I'm done writing. Enjoy the sunshine and the stars.

The Cruelty of Memory

2007-12-19T20:45:00.000-08:00

The memory is a wonderful complexity. It is seemingly infinite in depth at times and yet often proves to be tragically shallow. The beauty of it's vibrancy can bring great delight while the coldness of it's reminder can chill the soul to a standstill. It is not predictable yet remains moldable. The memory can be a faithful friend while also demonstrates the ability to scorn and shame as a grievous adversary.

Is the memory a figment of reality? Can such a paradox exist? Is the memory a hostage to either good or evil? Is the memory just pawn in a grandiose equipoise? How can something so influential be so incredibly daunting?

The memory seems to dine on a steady diet of fright and anxiety. The memory skews thought process and jumbles eloquence. Rationality is not a concern of memory while it snickers in the mind of the truly concerned. Past is resurrected in the present and, at times, becomes the feared future. Memory is not easily recessed as it threatens to break the threshold that so fragilely keeps it at bay.

The memory enlightens. The memory evokes in order that it might once again bring blessing. The joy of what once was can be recollected to guide the up and coming. The memory drinks of beauty and charm with the ability to comfort and confirm. It is tailored uniquely to each one in order that it might meet each need.

The memory is an intricacy that has no power to enslave on it's own and yet the self remains unable tame the memory within it's own power. Claiming and keeping the memory to oneself only ensures failure and despondency. The memory must too be surrendered to the only one that can soothe the spirit. Though continuous affirmation of what has been done away with will undoubtedly be needed, the memory can be used for enduring exultation and no longer perpetual condemnation. Such profundity can only be gifted. Loosening the tight grip on what is apparently constrainable only reveals the futility of rendering the memory obedient to such a trembling soul as mine own.

Simplification

2007-12-04T23:13:00.000-08:00

Lately my life has taken another shift. This no longer surprises me as a consistent and predictable existence has not really been available to me for a number of years. I take no anxiety nor pride in my current state. The process of simplification has begun within my heart and I cannot foresee the closing curtain.

Growing up, life seemed incredibly black and white. My teenage years were painted with the wide brush of certainty. The world appeared to be a simple place while my mind was complex. I now am undergoing a paradigm shift. I see the world as immensely complex and am attempting to simplify my mind.

I can be so easily overwhelmed with all that I do not know. On the other side of the coin, I can be so dangerously confident in what I do. Fear accompanies both extremes. What I do not know I feel I must quickly master. What I do know I feel I must quickly teach.

My lack of knowledge manifests into a mocking bystander. It so confidently calls out my faults and reminds me of all the reasons why I should reserve myself. It has the luxury of being completely detached from my emotional needs as a learner. Inadequacy becomes the open wound that is consistently agitated so that reparation is simply not an option.

The prideful attitude towards the cache of my understanding remains equally obnoxious. Being somewhat learned in a particular topic brings about an instigatory mindset that spurs me to quickly regurgitate on the next passerby. If I can baffle another by smooth and crafty wordplay, then I have succeeded in becoming the victor in this competitive gambit called life. Strangely enough, being alone at the top is a bitter cup to drink.

I want a simplified soul. I want to follow the life, the love, and the heart of just one. I want to see that there is more to this Jesus than what I have sung about in the children's choir and read about in the family devotional. I want to approach the complexities of this life with a simple mindset. I don't want to be simple minded, but I want to grasp the elementary ways that Christ taught; He all the while being the complexity of deity in the familiarity of the flesh.

Humility is the answer here. If I can realize that not knowing everything is okay and that knowing everything is not possible, then I might sooner realize that my strength and intellect alone are not sufficient. If God wants to reveal Himself more, then I shall receive that revelation with humility knowing that it was not me that wrenched it from His grasp nor shrewdly coaxed it from his gracious allowance. I will cast aside all needless preoccupation with "ologies" and "isms" and seek the Lord Jesus Christ. He is the definition of truth and in His simple name I shall find all. Oddly enough, I can see myself approaching the same challenges and yet being assured of the place where I might find rest.

the son of none

2007-11-10T22:16:00.000-08:00

He was never something to look at, never something to be noticed. Even after twenty years in the workforce, he was still a nobody. He was so much a nothing to anybody that the last three months on the job were filled with various inquiries about whether or not he even still held a position. Puzzling it had been to be the recipient of questions pertaining to existence. It was almost as if people could not physically see him.

How he longed now to even have a question asked of him. The subject didn't matter. Not being fit in the eyes of a passerby to even glance at his now frail body was unbearable. How could this have happened?

Mother had never once announced to him that there was a place in her heart for her very flesh and blood. The true meaning of a bastard, he was indeed the son of none. When a young boy is constantly reminded that the only reason he breathes is because of a terrible mistake, he surely can't be expected to live up to the standard of those who were lovingly conceived. No, there wasn't any place in any heart for the son of none.

Friends were always fickle. Housing was never permanent. Food was not a promise. Rejection, scoffing, loneliness: these were the things that could be counted upon. Why even hope for that which had never been? At seven years of age he was lured into the back door of a corner diner. Only food was on his mind at the moment. Never could he have imagined that an older man was capable of such wickedness. Leaving with table scraps could not possibly overshadow the shame in his eyes and the fear in his heart. The mind is capable of incredible things. Reducing the atrocity of rape to a foggy dream hardly seems possible, but not for the son of none. Memories could be locked in the back closet and soon forgotten no matter how great their initial impact.

The teenage years were a blur. School was a foreign concept as the street provided its own education. The numbing bliss that so sinfully coursed into his veins at least brought about some sort of aspiration. From fix to fix life was hell, but for those brief moments of forgetfulness, there still remained some type of purpose. Nevermind that this was not a purpose that involved anyone else. Sure, the road towards that euphoria was littered with violence, sex, and thievery, but the climax consisted of only the son of none.

A young body can only sustain such activity for so long. The vague outline of the man and the gentle tone in his voice was all that lingered now. Three months in a can-do institution produced a can-do son of none. The motivation was there although it seemed to have been pieced together from various alien whereabouts. Whatever the inspiration, there was surely a new goal set before him. Job, money, social responsibility: these three had been systematically tacked into his mind. "Do it for the world," they said. For all he knew, this was what needed to be done.

Subsequently, twenty years passed and "doing it for the world" seemed to be losing its hurrah. Getting fired should have shocked him, but the old way of life had a way of seeping up from the depths and jogging memories from their lofty heights so that the son of none could return to his old mindset without skipping a beat. Two months out of commission and the horror of the real world smiled again.

He was now a ghost, not to be seen or heard. Loneliness would have been a treasure, but when there is no recollection of what has been lost and not a care to seek after it, life essentially remains frozen in the abyss. The time had come. It had been enough.

The nobody from nowhere was happened upon by a somebody from who cares. There was one Name spoken to the son of none; not a fancy formula or monthly fee. This name carried much weight and yet bore no burden. A whisper to the soul was heard by one human ear that night. The message was of utter simplicity. No man could offer such a gift. However, if this be so, then how could this healing be tailored to the exact needs of the son of none?

The complexity existed in the nature of the messenger, not the proclamation. Life was at hand. Moreover, blessing beyond life was at hand. This would require sacrifice. For someone who owns nothing, the knowledge of what truly must be sacrificed is completely obvious: the self. Hope would be the exchange for such an offering, but the self is not one to go easily. Every lie, every slip of the tongue, and every lust of the heart must be given up. The son of none would turn the very Son of God into the object of scorn and ridicule. Even more surprising was that this event had already taken place.

The true battle was now to reach out to Someone who wanted to impart love. Such a foreign concept is bound to insight trepidation. This would truly be the end of his life. No longer could he live it as he was. He would indeed be completely dead to himself. Weepingly he knew that this was the only place to find life. The decision was his. No one would make it for him. To accept a true identity meant becoming someone altogether different and yet beautifully the same. What he had always wanted was now of what he was most terrified.

With eyes half-open, the son of none was racing against time. His heartbeat slowed while the words on his lips became murmurs in his heart. Indistinguishable to anyone else, a soul left earth with the same silence that it had entered. Only One knew it's destiny. Only One could have changed that. The secret catacombs of his being were invisible to all living souls but were intimately known only by the Son of One. Quite fitting it was that the first one to truly love the son of none would be the guardian of his final decision. This fatherless man had been claimed; he was something to be noticed. Not a second thought was given to him by anyone else and still a perfect life had once been crushed so that he might at least know that he was worth everything to Someone. The only thing that now remained in this realm was the empty shell of a man who was never known; a fitting departure it was for a spirit that had never really fit in it's own skin.

Rediculous

2007-10-25T06:33:00.000-07:00

Kudos to my friend Josh Butler for posting this on his Facebook. I credit him with bringing this to my attention. I don't know who wrote it but please enjoy:

Hello. My name is Professor Irwin Glands.

I am a doctor of mytho-zoology, and today I'd like to talk to you about some less common mythical creatures. Little bit about myself: I have several advanced degrees and have written a number of books on the topics of legends, folklore, mythology -- specifically with respect to animals. Most of you have probably heard of certain imaginary creatures like the dragon or the unicorn. I want to talk about some that you may not be so familiar with.

I'd like to start with a creature from the sea, the Vertimaid. Much like a mermaid, it's half-woman, half-fish, but unlike the mermaid, the Vertimaid is split down the middle, which makes it a little less attractive than a typical mermaid, and also creates certain physical problems.

Next up is the Amoebicorn. This is like an amoeba, but it has a very small horn attached to it. This animal, uh... very imaginary, because it's very small, and to imagine a horn that small is very difficult. And it's, uh, very magical.

A very beautiful mythical creature is called the Zebratard, and this animal is one-half pig, one-half eagle, one-half zebra, making it, uh, an improper fraction so that's three-halves of a creature -- that's one and a half mythical creatures, and it's surprisingly graceful and very rare.

An imaginary creature that has confused experts for centuries is the Paradoxotaur. This creature only exists if you don't believe it exists, but if you do believe it exists, then it does not exist. Experts have made guesses as to the appearance of the Paradoxotaur -- what form it might take -- but really it's anybody's guess.

Finally, I'd like to talk about the most controversial mythical creature of all and that is the RexFidoBuster, which is a three-headed dog that also has three dog bodies. This has stirred up a bit of contention in the mytho-zoological field because some experts contend that this is simply three dogs standing near each other.

Well, I've gotta get back to work, but I hope this was informative and... helpful.

Impervious?

2007-10-21T21:54:00.000-07:00

Time and time again I have heard the phrase “I believe in God”. Sometimes the person is impassioned enough to throw in the double-deity and say they love Jesus and God. This makes me laugh because the Spirit has been left at the back door. Anywho, I am really getting sick of those people around me that claim the title of Christian but then treat it as an overcoat. When the weather gets cold and rainy, it’s time to become a Christian, but when things are good and an opportunity arises for a smashing time with lady debauchery, the wardrobe seems a more fitting place for the religious garb.

So often people get their knickers in a bunch when a pastor is harsh towards other Christians. Sometimes it can be taken too far, but other times we just didn't like to hear that we were wrong. We can make excuses all day about how "we are still maturing" and how "it's a process so get off our back", but when it is all boiled down, there are things Christians just don’t do. Sure, we do them, but in following the example of Christ, we are to NOT DO THEM. One can whine about why they keep looking at porn for hours on end, but if they fail to realize that a Christian doesn’t take part in that kind of trash, then they are simply and subtly making up a faith that excuses such behavior. We aren’t Christians as some sort of communal attempt to be like one another. We are Christians because we are attempting to be like Christ, and in Him, consequently, we find that there exists unity. If I am not exemplifying Christ, I had better be called out and not nicely suggested that I not do this or that. I believe it is my right to demand that I be held accountable to the likeness of Christ. On the other hand, I will do the same to others who profess the name of Jesus.

I would rather dine with a dedicated Muslim and listen to his sincere and intentional regard for the mandates of his faith than spend one hour in the company of a professing Christian who thinks that there remains a part of his life in which being Christlike is optional. At least the Muslim is not saying one thing and doing another. To me, a true hypocrite is someone who says one thing, does another, and doesn’t care that his life is a complete contradiction. Someone who professes one thing, does another, and weeps at his transgression is a sinner saved by grace and I shall tip my hat to his heart until the day I die. Sure, I fall flat on my face time and time again. However, I am not content when I stumble. I want nothing more than to get back up and do it right the very next time. When I sin, I am acting contrary to the way that Christians are to act. Christ didn’t say that as a part following Him that transgression is acceptable. We are to be perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect. That's right, the measuring stick is perfection. Jiminy Christmas.

His love heals us when we fall. His love healed us after the fall. His love will not heal when we refuse to believe that we have fallen. The message of love is offered to the lost and is only seen as lovely when the seriousness of sin is realized. Love, in its purest form, cannot be seen as weather dependent. To treat love as conditional is to not really know it. I cannot hang up love when I feel it inconvenient and expect to be protected when the rains come. It just doesn't work like that. It just doesn't work.

Sabbath

2007-09-22T22:40:00.001-07:00

Sundays are a great way to end the week. They surely didn't used to be for me. Anymore, the prospect of a Sabbath rest brings joy and peace to my soul. No longer is the week grasping for something to call the apex. Formerly, I would spend seven days going from place to place or activity to activity desperately searching for a key moment that might label my efforts successful or unsuccessful. Monday would come and so would the internal blandness. Occasionally, a transient triumph might come my way, but all in all, there remained nothing to strive for.

I am seeing the value in purposeful pursuit that leads to ultimate seizure. Even when failure comes, at least I was venturing for some conscious prize. Flippant, day to day living has led me to depression and boredom. Life sucks when good things only happen on a whim. The occasional blessing from the sky is surely welcomed but not as a substitute for the consummation of purposeful endeavor.

I sit here doing nothing special. Nick Drake is soothing me with his piano while generic food items accompany him. It seems strange that an evening meal of condensed soup with teflon flakes would make me smile, but I have planned this day. I find joy in doing whatever I want as long as it is a complete break from the norm. I am not working on homework. I may read for a couple of hours and feel rejuvenated. I may take a nap and, without guilt, thoroughly enjoy it. I may spend a couple hours with my church family and recharge from that communion. I might daydream about the future and contemplate what in the world my next step will be and with whom I might want to take it.

Life is simple on Sunday. The other six days need to differ greatly in comparison so as to not ruin the elegance of my rest. Finding the strength and energy to persevere in my work is tough, but the rigid absoluteness of my Sabbath pushes me to complete the task. Working hard helps me to rest well. If I don't rest well, I can't work hard. A nice little tension exists in this dichotomy. I think God might have had something going for Him with regards to this seventh day. How ironic it is that I might benefit from it as well.

forsaking the new for the sake of the old

2007-09-11T11:08:00.001-07:00

The Robbie Seay Band put out a new cd recently and on that album there is a song called Beautiful Scandelous Night. I was just listening to the lyrics and was struck by the traditional view that they take of the sacrifice of Christ. The lyrics were originally written and performed by Smalltown Poets, but I had never heard the song before. Here is the excerpt that hit me the most.

"Go on up to the mountain of mercy. To the crimson perpetual tide. Kneel down on the shore. Be thirsty no more. Go under and be purified. Follow Christ to the holy mountain. Sinner sorry and wrecked by the fall. Cleanse your heart and your soul. In the fountain that flowed. For you and for me and for all."

The words here are comparable to the intensity and rawness of William Cowper's hymn There is a Fountain Filled with Blood. Nowadays, there seems to be a tendency to beautify the cross. Here I am speaking of beauty in the manner of actually cleaning up the blood that was spilt so as to not seem too morbid or gory. From what I see, the songs we sing in worship services today are cliche, superficial, and blithe.

I don't necessarily blame the congregation for singing these songs because we don't really have a choice. Worship leaders sing the popular stuff because cliche does indeed sell. However, I believe we have sold ourselves short and are falling victim to the notion that the words on the page are undoubtedly true. We belt out these, often times, ridiculous choruses and focus on the chord progression. We are so caught up in melody and four part harmony that we fail to see that our heart is way out of tune.

I do blame the congregation for this attitude. When a new song is given to us, we are more likely to look at the notes than the words. Even more grave is that we may read the words but not sing them from our true state. We should sing the same song a million different ways. Our heart is different every time we open the hymnal (if that still done). Thus, we should sing from a state of brokenness, a state of longing, a heart of thankfulness, a soul of gladness, or a mind of confusion. These songs can be sung without the voice.

What I see in the traditional music of the church are songs written from an honest perspective of life. The blood at the foot of the cross was not soaked up and cast aside with the towel. Knees were rubbed raw as the writer bowed and contemplated the forgiveness that trickled down upon such a wretch as him. Horatio Spafford didn't gleefully barge into the presence of God. He weepingly looked up to his Only Hope and found solace and rest amidst pain and sorrow. Only when he was crushed could he truly say that it was well with his soul.

I truly prefer the words of old hymns to the words of today's songs. I prefer the today's melody over those of the hymns. My point here is not to declare all modern music wrong. Though I find the modern worship music lacking in several aspects, I find the modern worshipper lacking in most. The old way of life is to use the mind and heart and respond with emotion. It seems today that emotion takes the lead and intellectual contemplation may or may not follow suit. My personal taste in style has no lasting influence, but I pray that we can at least change the internal method of worship so that the Lord, who sees what is done in secret (Matthew 6:18), will be glorified.

Amen

Scars

2007-08-29T21:30:00.001-07:00

Another year here at Moody Bible Institute has begun. My goal is to advance in my knowledge and wisdom of the Lord and practically apply it to my personal life. New classes and new friends lie before me, but I am learning a lesson that I should have learned years ago. Nothing about this new challenge is directly related to a Moody class or theological book. I do not discount that the classes and/or the reading will contribute to my approach of this predicament, but the scar I bear stems from childbirth.

I was born with pectus excavatum. This is a not-so-rare chest deformity that causes the sternum to be concave. Growing up, I was strangely attracted to the swimming pool. I can neither sufficiently swim nor can I achieve a thorough bronzing of the skin. In fact, the sun hates me and has told me through both the burning and poisoning of my fair complexion. Nevertheless, I had my shirt off at the pool as a little boy and was the object of laughs, gawks, questions, and physical poking and prodding. As a result, my mother was bombarded with questions about why I was how I was and why I couldn't be seen as normal. It can almost bring tears to my eyes thinking about my mothers loving words that soothed my small, broken heart.

I am far past that point in my life. I don't say this for sympathy. Obligatory condolence after an emotional story is, in my opinion, cheap and of no help to the problem. What I am trying to parallel is the state of my heart before the Lord and the tear filled eyes of my Savior as He looks upon me with unconditional love.

I was made in God's image. I still struggle with how people can say God made me just how he wanted me while my body is, in fact, functionally imperfect. He doesn't desire imperfection. Yet, I must trust that, in His divine power, God is using imperfection for His glory. My imperfections cannot thwart His ability to be praised.

Some time ago, I was speaking with a friend and the issue of liking oneself came up. Consequently, she asked me whether or not I liked myself. At that time, I could honestly say that I did not like myself hardly at all in the physical sense. Now, I still don't know to what extent that I should really "like" myself, but that can be saved for another time. That night I laid on the floor of my room and wrestled with God. I had some choice words for Him that shook Him to the anthropomorphic bone, I'm sure. Through my anger and confusion He saw the source of the problem and addressed it.

God spoke that night. Yep, I said it. God still speaks and I am absolutely firm on that. I will tell you what He said. It wasn't long winded; it was perfect. The Holy God assured me and said, "I have been glorified." These words screamed in comparison to my blubbering about "why this" and "why that". You see, God spoke in the past tense. He had already been glorified. Nothing healed faster than those words. My soul's tent had already been used for His glory! Why was I so concerned about others not giving me affirmation of my being? I was not made for them.

Those wounds were still open on that night but are now healing. The scars still remain as does the deformity. However, I have glorified the King who created the entire universe! No greater joy have I ever known than being confident that the Lord has taken pleasure in me if only for a moment. I am made for Him and Him alone. If anyone else on this earth appreciates me for who I am, then I am richly blessed. I don't deserve my mother's love. I don't deserve my God's love. Knowing unwarranted love allows me to take delight in the One who gives it. Otherwise, I have been consoled due to a sad story of insignificant pain and my wounds remain open. I know that God is not shallow or cheap. His grandeur knows no limits and His eternal presence will cost me everything.

Poisoned Apple

2007-08-14T12:08:00.000-07:00

The other night I went to a Nickel Creek show. The raw talent that was exhibited simply blew me away. Fiona Apple was a special guest singer for the evening and I was quite curious to see what she was all about. Her lyrics were honest and her voice was good even though severe trilling is not my personal taste. However, during the entire show Fiona was dancing and wiggling in the most odd fashion. Her second to last song seemed to scream truth as she declared, "When I get low I get high."

From the crowd it was easy to make fun of her lack of chreography. In fact, I was amused at the spectacle. However, after the show my attitude towards her completely shifted from one of mockery to absolute sorrow.

The Nickel Creek members signed autographs and I was one of the giddy fans who received a morsel of attention from the fiddle player, Sara Watkins. Fiona came out and offered her name upon any parchment that would suit the fancy. My heart was wrenched when I saw her up close. She was a frail little woman with a sagging face and a glaze over the eyes that probably once sparkled. I was cut deep by the pain that she was experiencing. Obsessed admirers screamed and yelled out superficial and fleeting I LOVE YOU's. As she signed my ticket, I became ashamed. My actions were no different than those of anyone else.

You see, what she needed to hear was that Jesus loves her and that the drugs and impersonal appreciation will not heal the true problem. She would manage to show a slight grin when a picture was taken and a thank you was muttered, yet the smile would fade as quickly as it had come and she fell immediately back into her lostness. I could sense that she hated the true state of her soul. Nevertheless, the praise came to her despite her pain so there was no reason for change. No fan cared deeply enough; they all wanted to gaze upon her celebrity. To see her heart would be to see someone in need and, of course, our most acclaimed heroes cannot be in need for they must fulfill our own.

But, there I was getting her autograph, taking her picture, and adding to her despair. I went home broken for the hearts of the lost. Fiona Apple was no longer an untouchable celebrity to me. I prayed for her as I would for a homeless man on the street. The truth is that she is no better than me and I, being saved, am no better than her for we both need Christ and we will both bow before Him one day. The question changes from whether or not I am worthy to pray for someone so popular to whether or not this child of God will be seen as worthy before the throne. The subject of my prayers do not constitute their validity but rather the sincerity of my heart as I lift up my requests to God.

I sincerely desire to see Fiona Apple come to the Lord and experience healing. Even broader than her, my heart is continually broken for the lostness of this world. My prayers will not fall upon deaf ears. To think that someone else will most likely pray for the sick is to gloss over the impact of a young college student from a small town. God doesn't promise to use a certain age, only a certain heart. From Fiona to the prostitute on the corner, my prayers must equally go out. No one is entitled to their sinful life, not even someone who is praised for it. We all need to be washed in Christ's blood.

After all, it's just a piece of fruit. We surely will not suffer from of a little nibble...

God of Music

2007-07-02T19:45:00.000-07:00

I am sitting here in my friend’s car in the southwestern part of the state of Michigan. I'm listening to the melody play through the speakers and can’t help but notice the beauty of the rhythm. I have come to realize that something so simple as a constant beat can point me in the direction of correct thinking. It may seem silly to say such things, but music speaks a simple truth to me; a truth that I have been learning for a few months about the secular life and whether or not it exists.

I cannot remove myself from this so-called ‘secular’ world and still fulfill all that God desires me to fulfill. How can I separate the things of God and the things not of God as if there remained some nook or cranny in which He is has not unconditionally claimed? The answer is that I will never be able to sift through the different subjects, careers, types of music, ratings of films, books, or periodicals and be able to pinpoint those things to which there is an absence of spiritual or religious permeation; for that is indeed what the word ‘secular’ means as defined by the Oxford American dictionary.

If an activity or attitude exists in which there is absolutely no spiritual residue, then the God who claims all is not actually God. By separating anything from the hand of God we are separating the Almighty from His word. I can accept a secular realm if I accept that 1) God is a liar and 2) ultimately there is no God. How can I conclude the second? If God is that which nothing greater can possibly be conceived, and I should conceive of a God that would have involvement in every aspect of every thing, then my own concept would, in fact, be God and the "God" of some world where a dichotomy exists between his involvement and some secular realm would unquestionably dismiss the title of "God" to be granted in the first place.

The God that I have conceived is indeed the God of all things and the God of reality. The God that I have conceived is the very God that has revealed Himself in Scripture. Hebrews 6:11 tells me that it is impossible for God to lie, so I don’t have to worry about my omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient, omnibenevolent, immutable God not being who He says He is.

The beauty of this simple musical beat may seem unconnected to God, but I can see His beauty through the logic and order of the tune even though a curse word just played through the speakers. It doesn’t matter of the songwriter gives a rip about the beauty of pure lips because the God of all creation cannot be escaped even by those who try to escape Him. The world we live in is the only created world; formed and claimed by the One and only God.

Filled with the Spirit. Filled with Confusion.

2007-05-20T21:57:00.001-07:00

I find it quite incredible that I can be so confused about a particular aspect of my God. Rather, I find it quite incredible that I am so confused with regards to God Himself; more specifically, the Holy Spirit. There seem to be opinions coming at me from the left and right yet none of them has clarified this mystical person of the Trinity enough to where I feel I could effectively teach others about Him.

First and foremost, I need to be completely convinced that the Holy Spirit is indeed God. He cannot be anything less than God the Father or God the Son. He is not a great concept that God the Father thought up and God the Son helped bring about. The Spirit is in equal status and power with the other two persons of the Trinity. Acts 5 clearly equates lying to the Spirit as lying to God. I must realize that He is as much a part of the Trinitarian deity as Jesus Christ and God the Father. Only when I grasp this, which I am becoming more firm in doing, can I begin to tackle some of the other issues.

Prayer. I can pray to the Spirit. I don't have to only pray "in the spirit", but I can pray to Him. If He is God, I can pray to Him. This may seem simple, but how many of us have been taught that this is okay? The issues was avoided and so I, along with others I presume, have grown to have a grim picture of how the Spirit and prayer are intertwined. I am becoming increasingly convinced of my necessity to pray to the Spirit simply for the ability to pray. Focus, intelligent interaction, and proper addressment of God are all needed for quality prayer. The Spirit's role is to inspire us, to lead us, and to make us eloquent as we seek to unify our hearts with Christ. Once again, if He is God, I am going to pray to Him and be fully convinced of the necessity to do so.

Spiritual Gifts. We could go on for days arguing this, but since I am writing, I will only write a little. I believe in the spiritual gifts. I believe that they all exist today as they have in the past. I think to diminish the gifts is to diminish the power of God. However, I think the spiritual gifts to be non-normative. I believe that as the church body grows in its knowledge of the Word, the natural tendency of the Lord to manifest Himself in such ways becomes less and less necessary. I believe this accounts for the stories we hear of visions and dreams across the globe. I do not discredit these dreams in most cases. However, I do not think that these gifts are to be sought for as the ultimate goal of the believer. He has, in fact, given us His complete Word. The Bible is the most valuable manifestation of God that we still have today. To seek a word from the Lord over the Word of the Lord is ignorant.

I believe that if we are truly seeking the Lord through His written Word, then it is not wrong to ask the Lord to reveal Himself through dreams, visions, or whatever else. However, if our faith falls on the fact that we didn't hear God tell us to do it, then we are missing the entire point of Scripture. He has already told us! We must realize that those words are actually His Words. I think that much of the confusion over spiritual gifts is really a confusion of what Scripture is. We think that if God tells us something directly, then we will be more likely to do something. Well, we had Christ and we killed Him. We do have God's direct word in His Word.

I could go on about how complex our God is, but I am tired. I am a meager human being. When push comes to shove, I am glad I haven't figured out God. If I could, I would soon realize that He wasn't worth the pursuit in the first place. The fact that He is so mystical makes Him worth seeking. I need to take comfort in my finite-ness and His overwhelming love for me despite that fact.

God be praised.

The Stoning of Stephen

2007-05-12T22:01:00.000-07:00

I was standing there in front of all these men, the council as they are called, and I had just finished my story. I was accused of wrongdoing but have never spoken anything apart from the teachings of the apostles. My heart had been poured out completely. The fathers of old never lost sight of their purpose, however, I was beginning to understand what it must have been to experience the anxiety of their incredible situations. I told these men nothing they had not already known about the saints of the past. It was not until I called them murderers that they really began to get heated. But, is that not what they did: murder?

I have never seen such hatred. All around me were eyes that seemed to pierce my soul. However, it was as if the hatred could only go "this far and no further"...reminds me of the mighty command to the oceans described to Saint Job. An inexplicable boldness and confidence reigned in my inmost being.

The shouting continued...deafening were their screams. I can only compare the intensity to what I imagine the torment of hell to be...murderous screeching of the most horrible and putrifying kind. They yelled for my life, those countless who wanted to take it. O but a taste of the burden Christ bore. I, a mere man, sinful yet saved by the blood of the God-Man, almost collapsed in fear. What more the sinless and innocent Son of Man must have felt.

I could take it no longer. My soul was going to leave its earthly vessel due to purely emotional anguish. I was going to give in. Then, it happened. Words can hardly capture. I can only compare to the coolness of spring this wind that enveloped me. Not just any breeze I felt. No, every limb, every corner of my body was strengthened. Even greater than this, my soul was refreshed and I realized like never before what power dwelt within me.

Only stories of this shaking wind had accurately conveyed to me this Comforter. Yet, today I experienced like never before that which I knew had always been. My eyes could no longer look at the faces of men for they were being drawn upward. It was not so much that I could not resist, but that the most natural reaction was to lift my head. No other reaction would have made sense.

What could this be? No longer did I see an enclosed building but the opening to the Glory of Glories! "I should not be seeing this," I thought. Nothing could draw me away. This is where I belonged. Home was up. Rest awaited me there. Then I saw...Him. I saw Him!! The King, the Lamb, the Mighty Warrior, He was not sitting as He said He would be until we joined Him. No, HE STOOD!

What did I ever do to deserve this? That's right, I deserved not one ounce of acknowledgement let alone recognition and honor. My mouth could only speak of what I saw. No other subject warranted my words. My eyes were only broken of this divine sight by the multitude of men who were casting me out of the court. My body was no longer mine. I was completely at the mercy of humanity; if they were capable of any in the first place.

My eyes went from gazing glory to staring at the dust. I knew that I would soon return to that from which I had been formed. And so it began.

The first stone hit my body with such force that I knew I would never walk again if I lived. The searing pain raged through my leg like an unquenchable fire. I tried to gather my breath but was met with two more stones to my chest. Blood spewed from my mouth and nose. Gasping only brought panic to my mind. There was no time to think. What could I say? I was not going to exist much longer. I cried out to my only Refuge; pleading with the Lord to take me.

Stone after stone. How long could a man survive so much trauma? My gaze began to blur as I laid in a grave of mud soaked in my own blood. The pain seemed to multiply with each blow and then be multiplied once again as if there was no limit to my torment.

"Is this justice," I thought, "This is blessed in His sight? What could be further from joy?" My mind wrestled with my heart. It was here in my heart that I found the answer. It is was not the strength of my person amidst torture that brought glory to God but the endurance and trust within my soul that brought a smile to the face of the King. Sure, it was a smile soaked in tears, but a smile nonetheless.

My heart would not give in and curse these men. I was given an opportunity to proclaim Christ's victory over death or to curse His creation and give the Evil One satisfaction in his wickedness. From the depths of my being I prayed earnestly for one last chance. I only needed one more sentence. That mighty wind surged one more time. My heart was on my lips while poison dripped from everyone else's. "LORD, DO NOT HOLD THIS SIN AGAINST THEM!"

That was the end. I slipped into silence only to instantly awaken. I was home.

It's not like you would think. It's not like I now live in gratitude that I no longer hurt. No, to think like that would be to think on earthly terms. Rather, my mind has been elevated. I have entered into a fullness that I never knew existed. All that was good on earth does not compare with this goodness. What I said was awesome on earth is by no means awesome in comparison with this place.

I have been lifted up. To dwell on anything of the past is to diminish the present. I am simply at rest. No other activity would be logical. Better put, not resting in my activity would be a poor excuse for activity in the first place. No, I have been elevated. What I once saw from below I now see from on high. This is not just a taste. This is the fullness of all things good.

Life as I know it

2007-05-09T09:25:00.000-07:00

Well, it's almost lunchtime here in Chicago at the Moody Bible Institute and I don't feel like writing something real deep. So, I will just write a but of quirkiness that have indulged in over the past few weeks.

#1 I am taking a class through the distance learning program here at Moody even though I live on campus. I had to read a biography on a missionary for this class and so I read a book about Maralyn Lazlo and her incredible ministry in Papua New Guinea. I finished the book both excited at the story as well as my successful completion of the book. I double checked the syllabus to see what I had to write about in response to the book. I found that I was supposed to read a book on a dead missionary. Oops

So I got a second book on Bill Borden. I read about half the book (which was amazing) and realized that this guy hardly went overseas. I am not taking away from his ministry here in the states, but the second criteria for this book report was that the missionary had to go overseas. Crap. 2nd book is a no go.

I just finished a third book that fully meets the requirements. Huzzah! I am surprisingly not upset that I read the other books because I learned a lot.

#2 I am currently listening to the band Eisley which has become one of my favorites since summer '06. I had an illegal copy of their cd and got rid of it. I recently bought the legit copy and have been basking in the beauty of its melody.

Along with this cd, I bought a new VHS copy of the buttercream gang. I had watched this movie about 100 times as a young lad until it broke. So, I went on amazon and purchased a $.35 copy of this mormon-made movie and watched it with my buddy landon. This was definitely a highlight of my semester.

Concluding my online shopping stories is a tale of complete randomness. I was in the library reading and a song from the blue merle shuffled from my ipod into my ears. I decided to buy the whole album at that point. I found it on amazon for $3. It was autographed as well. My next thought was, "Gee, I don't have enough rap" So, I bought nelly's cd entitled sweat for $1. I need to quit doing that kind of stuff. However. I have spent less than $20 in the past two weeks on this type of stuff so I am still in control.

#3 The last story I shall tell is from last night. We had a late night breakfast in the dining room here at the moodster and my friends and I were like 20th in line. The doors opened and we went into the servery. I must have lost my mind because I turned a corner, got lost momentarily, gathered my bearings, and stepped into the line. In a matter of ten seconds, I was stuck so far back in line that it took 40 minutes for me to get my custom-made omlet. The better question is why there was only one guy making those omlets.

I finally got my food and wanted some chocolate milk. I apparently haven't made chocolate milk in years because I actually put so much chocolate in the milk that the chocolate absorbed the milk. I was left with a cup of syrup. I used this concentrated glop to make roughly 36 oz of regular chocolate milk. Makes me wonder if I went a little loopy in the omlet line.

Anyway, school is almost over. I have two more finals and then I move into a condo up north a bit so I can stay here and work for a few weeks. Then, it is off to Miracle Camp - the camp of kings so to speak. I am p-umped to the dizzle. Alright my brain is fried. You may be able to tell by my horrible grammar and/or spelling.

PS - this picture is of my boys and I on culby 3

Quotable

2007-05-04T17:48:00.000-07:00

"Say 'No' to self, 'Yes' to Jesus every time. A steep road - hard work? But every man on this road has One who walks with him in lock-step; His presence overtops everything that has been cut out...

In every man's heart there is a throne and a cross. If Christ is on the throne, self is on the cross; and if self, even a little bit, is on the throne, Jesus is on the cross in that man's heart...

If Jesus is on the throne, you will go where He wants you to go. Jesus on the throne glorifies any work or spot...

If you are thirsty, and He is enthroned, drink. Drinking, the simplest act there is, means taking. 'He that believeth on Me, out of him shall flow rivers of living water. This spake He of the Spirit.'

To 'believe' is to know, because of His word. How shall I know that I have power to meet temptation, to witness for Him? Believe His word: It will come.

Lord Jesus, I take hands off, as far as my life is concerned. I put Thee on the throne in my heart. Change, cleanse, use me as Thou shalt choose. I take the full power of Thy Holy Spirit. I thank Thee.

I may never know a tithe of the result until Morning."

Bill Borden - Early 1900's

The Pursuit of Wysdom

2007-04-26T17:53:00.000-07:00

These past few days I have been contemplating a great deal of what the future holds for me. I truly have thousands of decisions to make and I am getting a little overwhelmed. However, I think I have boiled most of my decisions down to a common denominator; the pursuit of wisdom.

I could do this or I could do that. I could go here or I could go there. I could meet them or I could spend time with that individual. When I don't take the time to give it to my Lord, I find myself trying to reason out my own future. Speaking with a friend the other night, we both realized that the overarching trend in our thinking is that "if we have enough time, then we will figure it out".

However, this never works. At the end of an hour-long brainstorm I find myself not only exhausted and worried, but in no better shape than when I started. I finally end my time with the very thing I should have started with: giving the situation to the Lord.

Reflecting on this pattern of my thought process brings me to the conviction that I do not want to have control of my life. My actions and my sinful nature try to tell me otherwise, but I truly know and believe that control over my own life just leads to control over a stressful and sinful life. I don't really want my blood on my own hands.

I want to give it all. I want to be completely surrendered to the will of God. I want to pursue His wisdom and be firmly planted wherever that leads me. I want to be at peace with whatever His will is. I want to know when to act and when to be patient. I want to know when to speak and when to be silent. I want to grow in wisdom and be thankful for whatever amount is bestowed upon me based on my experience and maturity.

There is no safer place than in the will of God. A wise man seeks this safety and retracts his hands from the wheel. Unfortunately, I've grown pretty comfortable with where my hands are at.

Relative Truth

2007-04-20T14:09:00.001-07:00

I recently wrote a short critique of a periodical article for one of my classes here at Moody. The story was from a newspaper in Peoria, IL. In the report, an old woman's purse was grabbed outside WAL-MART by a thief who proceded to say "thanks" in a mocking manor. When she tried to retrieve the purse by reaching into the getaway car, she was dragged and slightly injured. The punk threatened to shoot her and called her a "bitch".

I had a lot of negative thoughts towards the actions of this young man, but the old woman's response to her own actions troubled me the most. She concluded that her attempt to retreive her purse was stupid. Her very words were, "What a stupid thing I did."

Now, this lady did not do anything that was immoral. She was justified in trying to prevent an evil act being committed against her. However, her comment also shows the lack of confidence that we have in our beliefs. She knew that getting robbed, having a gun shoved in her face, being called a "bitch", and being dragged across a parking lot was wrong. There is no doubt that if she had been asked ahead of time whether or not these things were wrong, she would have conceded. In fact, if she was asked if trying to retrieve a stolen item from someone who smugly grabbed it in the first place was wrong, she undoubtedly would have said "no".

We have truth written in our hearts (Romans 1). We know that evil exists and that attempting to prevent evil is not wrong as long as it is not done in a way that reciprocates evil. However, we are not firm enough in our beliefs to stand firmly after the fact. This lady said that her actions were stupid AFTER she was dragged across the asphalt.

We base our actions not on motivations, but on outcomes. If the outcome is deemed bad in our minds, then the motive and action must have been bad in the first place. However, this is not how truth works.

Truth is a firm belief that no matter the outcome, a pure motive and pure method of acting that truth out brings about a truly good response to any situation. If I get killed for preaching the gospel in a loving and truthful way, one cannot say based upon the result that I should not have been preaching in the first place. Truth transcends outcome.

If we are not convinced that an action is right before we do it, then we should not do it in the first place. However, if we are truly convinced of anything, then we should be able to stand for that conviction no matter what the outcome.

Mission Journal Day 1

2007-04-16T21:01:00.000-07:00

This is a collection of the journal entries that I wrote while traveling to China this past 06-07 New Year. I realize that there are lots of them, but If you read them, I hope you gain an appreciation for the work that God is doing over there. I am so blessed to have been able to take part in this trip and I pray that somehow the Lord will bless you as you read. I apologize in advance for any spelling errors. I didn't feel like being real critical as I copied these all day long.

The Mission Team
-Marla Witzig -- Jon Goodyear -- Jason Knowles -- Mika Bertsche -- Drew Henricks -- Jeff Witzig -- Our leaders Tim and Laura Bertsche

Missionaries we visited
Doug and Jen Witzig and their sons Zack, Luke, and Joel
Craig and Roxie Graves

--I woke up today at 7:30 a.m. not realizing how soon the flight from Peoria took off. Jason and I rode in row 8 as the emergency helpers. So, just in case the plane crashed into a mountain or body of water, we would surely die. Thankfully nothing happened on our 20 minute flight to the Windy City. As we were descending, the plane's reflection on the clouds had a complete rainbow around it. Quite a beautiful sight I must say.

We landed safely in Chicago, grabbed a Cinnabon, and are now awaiting the boarding process on UN835. I wrote this day 1 journal right now because we will be fast forwarding in time. We will be essentially be traveling 31 hours in 15. So, that should be good on the ole internal clock. Nothing like a little time travel I always have said. That last sentence may have bad grammar. Mmmm....McDonalds. Some guy is eating right near me. Welp, here we go. Let's hit up the future.

Mission Journal Day 2

2007-04-16T20:48:00.000-07:00

Well, I just woke up not too long ago. I thought I would have slept longer due to the 24 plus hours I was awake. But, I feel rested and the jetlag probably won't get me. I am sitting here watching the sunrise above the mountains in Hong Kong. The sun just peeked over the mountain and is turning the mist over the bay into a beautiful array of pink, orange, and purple. The water is calm and the many birds are singing.

I can't complain when the winter weather is 55 degrees F in the morning and a nice 70 during the day. My goodness. My God! How great is He! This earth is incredible. Maybe I should write down what happened in the last 15/30 time warped hours before I comment on the bombardment of other amazing things going on at the present time.

We left Chicago on our nice 747 plane. The seats were nice and the leg space was good ("more than any other airline"). After a savory snack of 1.2 oz of bagged goodness and a ginger ale, we watched half of the first movie. The plane decided that our imaginations would be greatly challenged if we had to assume what the first portion of the movie was.

Anyway, Jason was next to the window and would notify us when something cool was going on down below. Our flight essentially went right over teh top of the world. Seeing the frozen Russian land from 32,000 feet was incredible. I want to go there now as well.

The plane ride consisted of watching roughly 7 movies on a 13 inch TV. The projector in our section was broken despite one flight attendant's attempt to get it going by hitting it first with an empty Aquafina and second a small rubber mallot. She only suceeded in scaring the crap out of those of us who weren't paying attention.

The flight time was passed by, once again movies, as well as my newly found interest in Sudoku puzzles. This goes without mentioning the gourmet meals where "if the first choice was unavailable, the ultimate meal could be enjoyed as they were both equally delicious". Makes me wonder why they bothered with two in the first place.

So I stayed awake the whole time and when we landed in the beautiful airport, I was ready for bed. We met Doug and Zack and took rental vans to the Baptist Theological Seminary in Hong Kong.

On the way, Jon Goodyear and I as well as Drew Henricks marveled at the architectural genius of the HUGE apartment complexes and the thousands upon thousands of people packed into the sky. We drove across the worlds largest suspension bridge yet were more fascinated by the endless supply of apartments. Doug told us that the complexes held up to 20,000 people and have bus depots, salons, grocery stores, etc. in the bottom.

This way of life is so foreign to me. Well, we had a short meeting and then proceeded to pass out for the night. Here I am now once again soaking up the beauty of this place and thinking about the cramp that may soon form in both my right hand as well as my forearm simultaneously. It should be a good day. Let's bring in the New Year with a prayer.

Mission Journal Day 3

2007-04-16T20:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was quite the journey. Jon and I woke up and showered with a nice mothball-like shower gel so that we would both be sure to ward off any attractive Chinese girls we encountered. We walked to the nearest bus stop where we caught a double decker bus to the nearest train station. We took some killer curves in that bad boy.

We got to the station and used our octopus cards to scan through the terminal. These cards are like rechargeable debit cards for public transport and somehow even food. Kinda scary, but pretty convenient. We took the beautiful KCR train to the area of the church we were going to. The KCR was like silent and incredibly clean as we rode it.

We got to the church after some train transfers and finally to Heng On. Laughter. But seriously. We ate at McDonalds where we had normal American food. It was there that we met Brian and Lee, the pastor and wife of the Ma On Shan Baptist church. After we had breakfast, we went to the church and had a little time where Brian explained the history of the church and some specifics of what their goal was.

We then went to chuch which was completely in Cantonese. We started with music worship. There was dancing and clapping which was different but liberating as the emotions could be expressed more greatly by physical means. After music, we had corporate prayer for the past year and the years to come. Doug translated behind us so we could join in the prayers.

We were then introduced in front of the church and prayed over by the whole congregation. For some reason, this didn't impact me. However, after we sat down, everyone stood up and looked at us. I was moved at this point. They corporately thanked us in english and welcomed us to China. It was right then that my heart started to feel for the Chinese people. I praise God for that.

The sermon was translated to Jason and I by Dennis, a 26 year old primary school teacher who had an australian accent. We also met Ricky and William who translated a little as well. Marla and Mika's translator was a particularly beautiful Chinese girl named Angel.

I was thrilled at the church's sensitivity and willingness to be guided by the Holy Spirit. I finally saw sincere Christians who believe that the Spirit can work in great ways. This encouraged me in my personal struggles.

After church, Dennis, Angel, her boyfriend Simon, Brian, Lee, and Brian's brother went with us to a Chinese restaurant where we had the traditional breakfast/brunch style of eating called Dim Sum. Many different orders of food are brought and everyone tries it. We had some cool stuff like squid, turnips, pumpkin dessert as well as a really nice red bean dessert. Over the meal we learned more about etiquette as well as the Chinese language from Dennis, Simon, and Angel.

We then headed to Hong Kong Island. We walked along the coast before going to the island and did some prayer walking. We prayed on site within site for whatever the Lord laid on our hearts. We took a ferry across the water to HK island and got on a double decker bus to drive through the city. We went on a tram car up the HK peak. At the top we took some incredible pictures of HK from above and ate at Bubba Gumps for dinner.

After dinner we were pretty tired so we headed down the peak on the tram and took taxis, trains, and a mini bus back to the seminary where we brought in the new year in our sleep.

Mission Journal Day 4

2007-04-16T20:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was another tiring day, but not as busy as previous days. Jon and I woke up early and went down by the bay to do our journaling and devotions. It was quite beautiful. There was a hotel just down the coast that was playing Christian music very loudly. Light the Fire was playing while I sat there on an uncomfortable rock.

The team ate at the canteen of the seminary. All of the food was dirt cheap and cooked to order. We then went to the Bertsche's room and sang some songs and had a short devotional. We prayed for the strength as we were going to the most famous temple in HK. The people there were going to be worshipping their foreign gods as well as praying to their ancestors.

We took the KCR and the other train to the temple. Outside, old ladies were selling all kinds of novelties from incense to trinkets for presenting at the temple. We entered the gates and saw many people carrying incense. People bowed and chanted.

We went up higher to the main area where the courtyard was filled with people. Whole chickens, fruits, flowers, everything: People were actually worshipping pagan gods! Doug was right when he said that the experience would be sobering. I saw a little girl shaking the canister of sticks that "predict" the future. This was sad yet I saw myself as she was. We grow up doing as our parents lead us to do.

Right in front of the altar people would place their incense sticks in a flower pot filled with sand. Not moments later, a temple employee decked out in gloves and a neon green shirt would pull the sticks out, dunk them in water, and throw them away. I saw their fleeting faith literally go to the dumps instantaneously.

We split into three groups and prayed for the people. You do not feel that these people have lasting hope. They are searching for an eternal god. They desire something that will last and they are not finding it. Unfortunately, some do believe that they are correct. Satan's presence has gripped so many.

After the temple we went to a mall where we had authentic Chinese food, but it was really more along the lines of fast food. We had some good dishes, but the flavor was lacking. After lunch we went to the Hong Kong Historical Museum. We spent a good 3-4 hours walking around learning about the evolution of the Chinese written language and historical events like the Opium Wars and the invasion of HK by the Japanese.

The night ended as we went to the California Pizza Kitchen where we had some good pizza and free refills. We were scheduled to leave for Hoi Ping (Kai Ping in Mandarin) at 6:30 from the seminary. Jon and I hit the sack at 10 pretty exhausted from the day.

Mission Journal Day 5

2007-04-16T19:56:00.000-07:00

We woke up extremo early today because we had to leave the seminary at 6:30 am. After a long and speedy trip to the boat dock, we had some breakfast at McDonalds. We got on our boat at 8:30 and left for Hoi Ping. The trip was to take 4 hours. I took a little drammamine because I thought for sure I would lose it on the boat. I have been experiencing slight vertigo as we are constantly traveling by some mass transit. I have dizzy spells now and again.

After a real light lunch on the boat, we landed in mainland China. The port was guarded by Chinese men in green uniforms. I tried to sneak a picture but was reprimanded. This was the first time I have felt tension with any government official/public "safety". I must say, I was thrilled that I had nothing to hide and so had confidence amidst the seemingly gruff attempt to intimidate me.

When we got through customs, we met Roxie and Craig who are missionaries with Doug and Jen in Hoi Ping. They recently moved to HP, but had spent some time in Hong Kong after leaving L.A. We rode in a bus provided by the Ever Joint Hotel through the anti-traffic controlled city. Looking around, I soon realized that the Kong had gone and we were now in the real deal: dusty, dirty, run-down.

I will say that I was truly hoping that we weren't staying in any place like the buildings I saw. To my delight, yet strangely enough to my embarassment as well, we pulled into the turnabout in front of a 30 plus story hotel that rose high and mighty above the dusty 6 story apartments below. The hotel is beautiful. The beds, however, are no softer than box springs. Thankfully, we had thin pads put on our beds to soften the blow to our backs.

The afternoon was spent exploring the pool, spa, billiards room, table tennis room, and bowling alley. For dinner, we met with some pastors of the local church, one being named Peter, the secretary from Soaring Glory named Jancy, and a sunday school/ kindergarten teacher named Jane. We ate a great Chinese meal with Peter Jane and Jancy. Roughly three hours were spent talking, eating, and getting to know one another better.

It was with Peter that I began to once again grow to love these beautiful people. It was hard to see the three go at the end of the night. I hope that we get to see them later in the week. My heart is growing. Praise the Lord our Father.

Mission Journal Day 6

2007-04-16T16:29:00.000-07:00

After a long 10 hour night's sleep, I got up from my mostly comfortable bed and tried to shower. It ended up that I couldn't figure out the shower so I took my first bath in a year in China. I went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast where they had many America/Chinese dishes. I enjoyed the funky meal and was full by the end.

Peter, Craig, and Rosie then took us through their apartment, Craig and Roxie's that is, and to our surprise, they had a fantastic little place. The whole building looked rundown, but their place was very nice. We then walked through the streets to observe Hoi Ping life. Walking around was incredible. We first went into the wet market where tons of animals were kept to be slaughtered fresh. Tons of fish, birds, frogs, turtles, shrimp, muscles, crabs, and others were ripe for the killing.

After that stinky and bloody experience, we went to the general supermarket which rivaled a Sullivans or Thompsons. It was very nice. Jason began his exciting day of being hit on by the Chinese girls. They loooooved him! It was hilarious.

We continued to walk around all the hundreds of little shops. We walked by some caged dogs ready to be killed. I was very shocked/sobered/saddened, but understanding that this is life here in China. We finished the walk with Jay and Marla both buying fake Rolex watches.

We ate lunch at KFC and then headed to the high school to help with english. Drew, Jason, Mika, Craig, Roxie, and I were paraded in front of the class and where we told a little about ourselves. Our comments were responded with ooooh's ahhhh's and clapping. We then broke up into 6 groups and spoke with the students in smaller groups.

This was great! The kids gave me gifts of food and we exchanged questions back and forth. My heart began to connect. I began to love the youth at this point. I got to see the hearts of this people where I did not in Hong Kong. After classes, everyone wanted to take pictures with us. The girls loved us guys and all wanted pictures. We felt like celebrities.

However, I was moved by all of this. I loved interacting with them. We had dinner afterwards at a traditional Chinese restaurant. We invited three of the school teachers and Peter. Peter and I spoke of many things, but I soon learned of his struggles to be what he wants; a Greek teacher. My heart is burdened to pray for him to achieve his dreams.

Mission Journal Day 7

2007-04-16T15:28:00.000-07:00

Drew and I woke up and opened the curtain of our room to see the sky completely covered by the clouds. But, the sun was actually shining its rays through the clouds in one area. This symbolized the Lord's continued work within China despite the darkness that we see all around.

Jen, Craig, and Roxie went with us up Learn Gum San, a hill that overlooks Hoi Ping. It was wonderful to climb to the top. We reached a 4 or 5 story pagoda on which we climbed to the top. We spent some time praying and singing up there. It was very beautiful to see the whole city.

We all then went to a "westernized" restaurant where we had some interesting American foods including water buffalo, ostrich (tastes like pork sausage), and kangaroo (more beef-like). It was a pretty good meal as they had some great spaghetti. We stopped by the hotel for a bit and took a quick nap.

After our nap, we went to to Soaring Glory to tour Doug's factory. It was very interesting to see the actual factory. The whole place was clean which I would expect of a Christian businessman. Doug's associate Tap Kwan showed up from Hong Kong and talked to us for a long time about how successful he was. Afterwards, we went to another hotel where we had a nice meal of traditional Chinese. Of course we were quite satisfied after the meal so we came back to the hotel, hung out in the rooms, and then hit the hay.

Mission Journal Day 8

2007-04-16T15:16:00.000-07:00

We woke up early today. Well, Tim, Laura, Jason, Jon, and I all did. We ate breakfast and then headed to a hotel in Hoi Ping to meet up with some students from Hong Kong to go help with english at another school. I was surprised that most of them knew 3 to 4 languages and english was not their first. We traveled by mini-bus to Chek Hum.

It was here that we were once again paraded in front of the class. This time the students were junior high age. The Hong Kong students were in charge because they know Cantonese. We played games first and then Laura and I were put in charge of telling them about Christmas.

Peter translated, but I really didn't know what was appropriate to tell. I basically shared the entire gospel message, but of course, my words were filtered through Peter. After being at the school for a while, we went to Peter's church. We went on the rooftop where we played a name game with the HK students. For lunch we went to a little restaurant and had traditional Chinese. After the meal, we went to a man and woman's house to visit. The man was blind but sang a beautiful song to us.

From there we went to the Witzig's house where we had some worship through song and prayer. Craig and Roxie shared their whole story of how they arrived in Hoi Ping. We had a nice meal of chili and then were off to the college age/career fellowship. I was to share some words as well as Mika. I was a little nervous, but the Lord was faithful and prepared my heart before I spoke. After we both shared, all the people split into small groups to share common experiences. I was blown away at the testimony of these Chinese believer's faith. They know exactly what they are giving up when they forego the traditions of their families.

I came back to the hotel very achy and tired. I thought I was getting sick so I drank more airborne and had two cups of oolong tea. Then, I hit it.

Mission Journal Day 9

2007-04-16T08:18:00.000-07:00

I woke up feeling quite bad. I had slept very poorly and when I woke up, I felt like I had just gotten out of surgery. Everything was sensitive and achy. I just took a hot bath and that helped somewhat. I drank lots of tea, took lots of vitamin C, and ate lots of fruit. We left the hotel around 9:30 for the kindergarten where Jane works. Peter went with us as well.

We got to the school and the entire place was decorated and built for children. This school is for ages 3-5 and there are roughly 800 students total. We walked in and saw some girls practicing traditional Chinese dance. It was absolutely adorable to see their proud little poses. We then went to Jane's class. The children had drawn their own pictures and were coloring them with oil pastels when we got there. We could not believe how good these children were for being only 5 years old. Surprisingly, they knew some English. We got to take pictures of them and talk a little bit. Their faces capture the beauty of China entirely. They are absolutely beautiful. My heart was softened again as we interacted with them.

After a short time, we left for a small village outside of Hoi Ping (Lon Boui?). We stopped at the house of a little Chinese woman and sat on some stools in the cold and dark, concrete house. It was there that we met her grandson Sing. He went with us as we traveled to see the church that David Crane refounded after his father had evengelized in the area some time ago. It was great to see the ministry that Rollin and David Crane both had.

We drove back to Hoi Ping for some McD's for lunch. After that, we went to Liyuan Gardens to tour the beautiful grounds there. At one point, we fed the coy fish there. I swear there were a thousand of them that came to eat the little cookies that we threw into the water.

We then drove to the next village over where we climbed the watch towers that are so popular here in Hoi Ping. In the 1910's-1920's, about 3000 of them were built because the Hoi Ping government did not exist. From there we traveled back to the hotel for a dinner buffet in the same restaurant we always eat breakfast. It was the first time that I had heart. I mean, I ate the heart muscle. It was terrible.

We finished dinner and MIka, Jason, and I went to a youth outreach at the Sun Churn Christian church where we had gone to the college/career fellowship the night before. There were probably 70-80 kids there. It was a great time. I was able to play table tennis a lot and was able to keep up with the high school players. We came back to the hotel around 10:30 and watched Unbreakable in Jason and Jon's room. I was feeling better by the end of the day. I slept very well.

Mission Journal Day 10

2007-04-16T08:10:00.000-07:00

We woke up early on Sunday...i mean late because our church didn't start until 12. I ate tons of food at breakfast, mostly fruit and vitamins because I was feeling better and I wanted to boost the immune system. We took taxis to the church and listened to Cantonese for two hours while Doug and the Hong Kong student Mikala translated for us. After the service, we went upstairs to the teenage fellowship. The Hong Kong students did their skits, Drew and Marla shared, and our team sang two songs.

Our first was How Great is Our God by Chris Tomlin and the second was Give Thanks. We sang Give Thanks once in English and then in Chinese because most of the students knew it. The song was so powerful when we sang together. After the fellowship, I talked with some of the students in their broken English. But, I had some nice talks. We went to Doug and Jen's house for pizza and watched Mulan.

Doug and I went to get the pizzas and I got a Chinese flag at one of the stores. We had a nice talk as we drove to the pizza place (Pizza King). After Mulan, Drew, Marla, and I went over to Craig and Roxies for game night with Peter, Jane, and Peter's little cousin Bun Bun. We had a really nice time just talking. Peter shared some more of his struggles as a pastor and I learned more about Chinese life from Jane. I must say, I enjoyed talking with both of them. Doug came around 9:30 and we went back to the hotel to sleep.

Mission Journal Day 11

2007-04-16T07:57:00.000-07:00

We woke up somewhat late today because our first thing on the schedule was a wedding at 12:45 at the Sun Churn Church. We left the hotel around 11:00 and took taxis to McDonalds. We separated from there and wandered the streets of Hoi Ping. Jon, Jason, and I went together and just walked up and down the roads. Most of the stores were cell phone stores, but I found an umbrella store. I owe my friend Josh at school for the one I lost of his. I bartered for a 30 R&B strawberry patterned umbrella. He will probably not accept it.

We kept walking and eventually found a tea store. I bought some pot-looking Chinese tea and the other two bought tea pots. We gathered for a small snack/lunch at McD's and walked to the church. We didn't even know the couple getting married, but the Chinese culture is to welcome guests and friends.

The wedding was very different from the wedding I envision mine being. The piano procession was played by a woman who improvised in 20 different keys for the same song. This provided me with laughter and Marla with tears. Cell phones rang off the hook during the ceremony and, going along with tradition, they were all answered by their owners. There seemed to be about four professional photographers, one being a videographer. However, there were about 6-10 others who just wanted pictures, so they crowded the altar and pulpet. I could not believe the amount of distractions that were taking place during this wedding. I soon realized that I was the only one distracted as well as the rest of us Americans.

The wedding ended with canons (hand-held) of confetti being blasted off inside the sanctuary. We left the church and walked back to Doug and Jen's place. We had some drinks and worshipped through prayer and song one last time. We then debriefed and shared how these past days had impacted us. It was a very nice time.

Roxie and Craig swung by and picked up some of us as we headed off to the wedding feast. We walked into the hotel place and there was a huge room set for over 700 people to eat. It soon filled up and we began our final Chinese meal. Craig and Roxie were with us so it was nice to end our time with them. We enjoyed fish, chicken, squid, shrimp, lilly bulbs, and many other nice foods.

We ended the night by saying final farewells to Jane, Peter, Suki, Grace, and the other Chinese believers. It was a nice time as we also said goodbye Craig and Roxie, whom I have grown to love very much. All the guys on the team crammed into a taxi and were taken to the supermarket for a final sweep. We had to find some things for the bus ride to Hong Kong the next morning. We bought some crackers and peanut butter, tangerines, and cookies. We then just headed back to the Ever Joint for a lazy night before bed.

Mission Journal Day 12

2007-04-16T07:39:00.000-07:00

We had to wake up early because our bus for Hong Kong was leaving at 8:30. Drew and I woke up and got most of our stuff ready before we went down to breakfast. I only had time to drink some juice and airborne as well as slurp down some rice congee. We left the hotel with our many pairs of slippers and headed for the bus station.

We hopped on a bus after a goodbye to Drew, the Witzigs, and Jancy. The bus was just like a charter bus from the U.S. but without a bathroom. The lady in front of me was vomiting the entire way and the man next to me had no control over his son. It was sad to see the lame parenting due to the fact that he probably only has one child. The child was simply not being disciplined.

Anyway, we had to get off the bus at the China Border and once again at the Hong Kong Border. We went through customs twice in a bout 20-30 minutes. We finally arrived at the B.P. International House (owned by the Boy Scouts) around 3ish. We checked into our small rooms. I felt low this day and I still can't figure out why. I was wearing thin on patience.

We walked around downtown Hong Kong and looked for gifts for our families. We all found some cheapt stuff and then went to the mall where Marla, Jason, and I got to sit in some massage chairs for a little relief. I then rode some random horse saddle exercise thing and got a nice little chafe on the inside of my thighs. We all enjoyed a second meal at the California Pizza Kitchen with unlimited free refills. We then went to another store and bought it out.

We returned to the hotel and I bought some internet time. It was then that I found out that Jonny was ENGAGED to leah! Wow! I could hardly believe it. We just spent the night in our room watching TV and checking emails and such. After quite a long time, we went to sleep for the night in our frozen room. Thankfully the boy scouts provided us with a lush sheet and paper thin brown blanket for our comfort. How restful the night was.

We left the next morning for the States and safely arrived

Preparation

2007-04-11T12:15:00.000-07:00

Well, this word "preparation" has continuously been on my mind. I really cannot shake it. I am realizing that this word encompasses my overall motivation in life. The preparation that is happening and will happen until I die comes with the promise of finally grasping that which I am actually preparing for.

This mindset that I am developing brings a fresh new outlook on what I do on a day to day basis. In fact, it is because I have hope for something ultimately and exceedingly better that I find the state of preparation to be a wonderful motivation for existence.

Preparation is longing for the future. Preparing is believing that this step, right here and right now, is crucial to the realization of what is being hoped for. This is not to be confused with losing sight of the here and now and neglecting present circumstance. In fact, I would say that neglect of current circumstance, no matter how small, is the antithesis of preparation. Preparation brings to light the necessity of the present to even reach that future hope.

I am in college now. I study the Bible, I read many books, I write long papers, and it is all incredibly and absolutely necessary. A mind of preparation, while struggling with seeing some things as trite, eventually concedes to and fully invests in the task at hand. I see this time of dedication to my schoolwork as necessary to being effective in ministry. However, my preparation for ministry brings about the next level of preparation: ministry.

Ministry is not my end. I don't reach full-time ministry and finally have my education pay off. I reach the next stepping stone of ministry and see it as the next platform for my ultimate and final goal: eternal presence and unhindered worship of my God and King.

I am being prepared for eternal glory. Each opportunity that I am given to prepare my heart more and more for the King is a blessing beyond compare. The longer I am blessed to live faithfully, the longer I am blessed to see other's preparation to join with me in Christ's inheritance.

This knowledge allows me to see the true blessing and true purpose of every moment I have on this earth. If this is not legit, then my life is a waste. But, it is legit and I know it.

1 Corinthians 15:19

"If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men."

Hatred

2007-04-07T17:40:00.000-07:00

I have come to notice that as our American society becomes more aware and concerned with social justice, we are developing hate within our hearts. We like to extend love to those who are being oppressed and act like we are holistically bettering this world, but I don't think we are accomplishing what we are boasting.

I see this country hating itself. As we watch the world deteriorate, we are also watching our own country fall apart, but we are not innocent. We hate our government. We hate our leaders. We hate our teachers. We hate and hate yet we put on the front of love and acceptance. We hate those who are wicked. We hate those who go against our beliefs. We hate those who challenge our beliefs. We hate the ignorant. We hate truth-tellers. We simply hate and if you tell me that I am not following Christ's example, then I hate you. I don't evaluate myself to see if I stand on Scripture, I evaluate my irrational feelings and see whether or not you have the right to say such things.

We sure cover it up well, though. If we are concerned about the downtrodden and destitute, then we are displaying true love, right? No, not entirely. We are not loving to the extent that Christ has called us to love. We are supposed to pray for those who persecute us and love our enemies (Matthew 5:44). We are told obey those in authority if they are not telling us to break God's law (Romans 13:1-3 // Acts 4:19-20). No matter what we think of the government, we are not to hate those in position of authority. We are not to hate anyone for any reason. Even if a person molests our children or executes the innocent by the thousands, we have no grounds to hate. We are to be firm in our beliefs and defend them with passion, but we are not to detest those who are against us.

Hebrews 12:9 "Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good"

We must examine our lives so that we are not displacing our hatred from our brothers to our enemies who laugh in our face. We must look inside our hearts to see if we are simply loving what is popular to love and hating what is popular to hate. If this be the case, then we don't know love as He is. We are to love in such a way that the world is shocked. This subtle hatred within us is going to manifest one day into a horribly ugly beast and we will plead ignorance in the light that we were sending money to Africa.

Good Friday

2007-04-05T13:00:00.000-07:00

Well, tomorrow is Good Friday. It's just another day. A day to wake up late, to keep myself occupied, to log a few hours in at work, to go to church, and to hang with friends. This is the mindset that I so often have. The only good thing about this particular Friday is that it allows me to relax from class and kick off a fun weekend.

I am convicted in my heart that if I do not weep and mourn the death of Christ, then I do not fully realize or appreciate the sacrifice. The sin that I so desperately hold on to is the very sin that poisoned the hearts of those who crowned Him with thorns. My sin is the hatred that caused the onlookers to spit in the face of their Maker. My sin is the pride that laughed as the whip dug deep and ripped wide open the flesh of the Lamb. My sin is the ignorance in the heart of the soldiers who pounded sharpened iron through the wrists of the King. My sin held Him there. My sin burst His heart when the dispair of isolation came upon the Savior. It was my sin.

There is nothing good about what I did. So, why am I so focused on myself on this day? I dare not call it good if I do not meditate on the only One who is good. I can only call this day good when I realize my wickedness. I am nothing and Christ is everything. What a blessing that I can now love the very God whom I nailed to that cursed tree. I do not deserve it. I am not good. He is good, His sacrifice was good, His forgiveness is good, and this day is good only because He has brought it.

Psalm 118:24 "This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it"

Amen

Hell

2007-04-03T11:54:00.000-07:00

Well, to start off, I didn't think it appropriate to put a picture up that went along with a blog about hell. But, I feel compelled to write this blog in lieu of someone else's blog that I read. After commenting back and forth with this person, I have come to the conclusion that hell, in this person's mind, is no more than an inconvenience.

Now, I don't even know if this person considers themself a Christian, but I would assume so. As Christians, a poor view of hell develops out of a poor view of the sacrifice of Christ. I know that within the conservative Christian community there are different views on hell, but I am telling you that the view from this particular individual was completely unbibilical. I do not argue for the sake of arguing, but I do stand upon the Word of God when it is being compromised.

Hell, according to this person, is not separate from God. In fact, hell is being in the presence of God but hating it. Hell is actually being in the presence of so much perfection that one's own imperfection in contrast to that perfection brings about torment. According to this person, God would not make a place for evildoers as His ultimate goal is to redeem people. Over time (eternity), even those imperfect people experiencing torment will change and then all will be well and God will have succeeded in bringing all to repentence.

I laugh at this argument because it is so starkly contrasted to Scripture. God's worth (though I hate to put it that way) is not contingent upon us (Isaiah 48:11). He loves, above all else, His own holiness and the communion that He has within the Trinity. Different interpretations of Scripture differ on whether or not physical pain is incorporated into hell, but it still remains that there is separation of wicked from the righteous. I believe that there is physical torment as well as separation from the presence of the Lord, however, this liberal view of hell is just a feel-good, heretical view. It is absolutely rediculous!

If God's still has to do more work with sinners to get them to repent when they all went to heaven, then Christ did not fulfill what He was supposed to. Thus, a mockery is made out of the cross. He failed! Wait, God failed???? I think not!

Another thing, if this view of hell is accepted, then our actions on this earth mean nothing. I could murder or lie or rape, it does not matter. I will eventually get into heaven after a few millenia of being in "hell-like" heaven. He...ck, even satan could be in heaven. He might just take a few more millenia.

If God does not punish, He is not just and He is not God. However, God does punish, He does judge ( Isaiah 11:4 // Psalm 94:23) and He will be claimed by all as King at the same moment (Romans 14:10-11).

There is separation from God in hell (Matthew 25:31-46// 2 Thessalonians 1:5-10 // Revelation 20). I just cannot fathom where this view of hell came from other than 2 Timothy 4:3. No one wants to hear that hell exists and that God would punish the sin because it goes contrary to what we naturally (and sinfully) desire. However, putting aside the things of the flesh and picking up our cross is contrary to our sinful desires as well, but it is the truth. Eternal destiny is not swayed or changed by how we feel about it. It is a fact that all people will either go to eternal presence with the Lord (God be praised for His mercy!) or to eternal separation from the Lord (God be praised for His justice!).

Hell is hell. Hell is real. God wishes that none would perish (2 Peter 3:9 // Ezekial 18: 23 & 32), but He is not intimidated by our sin. He will not be made the fool by allowing those to enter heaven who did not repent and believe on His ultimate expression of mercy, His son Jesus Christ.

You will either spend eternity in heaven or hell. There does not exist any other choice. If you do not choose the One way to heaven, you have already chosen the other. It's the default setting for our total depravity.

Truth is uncomfortable, isn't it?

Sweetly broken

2007-03-28T12:38:00.001-07:00

O my heart aches. How wonderful to be in this place. I have nothing to give but my will. At the cross I can only cling. Days come when I foolishly believe that all is well. Days like today that bring to the surface what pain has been masked. Yet, this is too sweet to be sorrowful. I have too much joy to be brought to dispair. Such a tender voice whispers into my heart. Such a Savior I have.

I have come to believe that my heart belongs in brokenness. This brokenness is my necessary condition as I encounter this life. It is because I cry for the lost that I continue to pray for them. It is because I cannot find hatred in my heart that I find my anger to be just. It is because I weep the continuous crucifixion of God's blessing that I find that my heart is growing in truth. It is because of my unrest when I neglect the lover of my soul that His Word heals my wounds and gives solace to my waning strength.

I welcome this brokenness because it is the only thing that grows me. I am undeserving of such a blessing, but welcome it with open arms. I dare not wish away the presence of the Living God. He is my portion. He is my strength. I can serve no other.

O God, You are so good! My heart was made for Thee! Let me live in Thy strength. Unveil my heart to see Thy ever-present work. Break me each day that I may grieve as Thou dost for the lost; that I learn only then to minister as Thy servant. Keep me in this place. Amen
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"At the cross You beckon me
You draw me gently to my knees, and I am
Lost for words, so lost in love,
I’m sweetly broken, wholly surrendered"

Jeremy Riddle - Sweetly broken

Becoming Intellectual

2007-03-21T09:08:00.000-07:00

Usually I am spurred to write because of a book that I am reading at the moment. Today is no exception. The book Love Your God With All Your Mind by J.P. Moreland is stretching me in a new way. My mind is no longer exclusive to one type of input. I am in the process of becoming more intellectual and, in the process, developing true wisdom.

I believe that my generation, the generation behind me, and countless future generations are heading down a path to mental distruction. I myself have grown into this habit of neglecting my mind and its necessity to be stretched and challenged on a day to day basis. I have been numbed by sensory overload. I can sit passive in front of a television for a few hours or even on this computer and mindlessly blow two hours. I do not think this is an accident.

We are being taught that it is okay to let others think for ourselves. Sure, we get this superficial and insincere lecture throughout our primary and secondary education about pushing ourselves. However, we are only being conditioned to think in a straight line that prepares us for a future career. We are taught to focus on one area of education and find the best way of accomplishing all the necessary tasks so that we can make money. However, those one track minds tend to follow an eerily similar path: Artistry.

Don't get me wrong, I love art. I love and appreciate talented photographers, film makers, and drawers, but art is now being shown as an acceptable escape from being well-rounded. Art is being incorporated into everything and trumping that which it is supposed to supplement. I am not saying that it is wrong to incorporate visual aesthetics into advertising, but we tend to stop at the front cover and not delve into the actual material, if there even is substance. From politics to Christianity, we see that the people who have the most flash, the most glitter, or the best advertisment to be the most successful. However, success is seen in money and numbers (amount) and not in individual intellect.

Our society is so completely consumed with being entertained both in our ears and our eyes that we couldn't care less if the information being shown is worth watching. Let's be honest. Take a look at the young children. Heck, look at my peers in college right now. How many hate math? How many read for pleasure? How many people would rather tune in to their ipod instead of having to face the sights, sounds, and (oh my!) conversations that may result from walking on this earth? We have been classically conditioned that those who question are those who #1 are annoying and #2 will not make any money. However, since all society believes this, the reality is that any thinker is annoying and actually does not make money.

Instead of challenging the business ethics of big corporations, we settle for being ignorant of the exploitation of foreign child-labor. Christians get bent out of shape at the sexual immorality of this world as seen modern advertising but are not convicted enough to realize that it starts in every individual mind. Thus, we have church leaders addicted to porn, we have pastors sleeping with women other than their wives, and we see the youth pastor's movie collection to be not far off from the average immature high schooler.

Self-centeredness consumes us. Thus, if we have to be challenged by a book, by an equation, or by a probing question from a true intellectual we duck out by saying that we won't be using this in the future. Yes, you probably won't need that equation to fuction in the real world, but your mind grows in knowledge with every challenge it takes on. Maybe, just maybe, reading that tough book will develop discipline to stick with a future work project. Funny how we cannot see the virtues and values that grow when we have to think hard. Funny how we see the virtues and values of America go out the window when we don't have to think. We are content with walking around with small minds that only tackle the issues that prevent us from being successful in our careers.

It makes me sick to see my attitude towards critical thinking. I realize that I am extremely limited in my knowledge because I only restrict myself to information that appeals to my interests. However, even writing this and thinking about why I am troubled about my mind's condition stretches me. It starts in the mind. What we have put in is what we are getting out. We are conforming to those very things which we think about. This works in both positive and negative ways. Just ask your average dirty-minded, currupt businessman or your perverted, adulterous pastor.

I am going to go do a Sudoku.

Romans 12:2 -- Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

The Pursuit of God

2007-03-18T15:57:00.001-07:00

I am reading The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer and I am finding so much peace within his wisdom. I will let this speak for itself:

"The sincere, plain man knows that the world is real. He finds it here when he wakes to consciousness, and he knows that he did not think it into being. It was here waiting for him when he came, and he knows that when he prepares to leave this earthly scene it will be here still to bid him goodbye as he departs.

By the deep wisdom of life he is wiser than a thousand men who doubt. He stands upon the earth and feels the wind and rain in his face, and he knows that they are real. He sees the sun by day and the stars by night. He sees the hot lightning play out of the dark thundercloud. He hears the sounds of nature and the cries of human joy and pain.

These he knows are real. He lies down on the cool earth at night and has no fear that it will prove illusory or fail him while he sleeps. In the morning the firm ground will be under him, the blue sky above him and the rocks and trees around him as when he closed his eyes the night before. So he lives and rejoices in a world of reality.

With his five sense he engages this real world. All things necessary to his physical existence he apprehends by the faculties with which he has been equipped by the God who created him and placed him in such a world as this.

Now by our definition also God is real. He is real in the absolute and final sense that nothing else is. All other reality is contingent upon His. The great Reality is God, the Author of that lower and dependent reality which makes up the sum of created things, including ourselves.

God has objective existence independent of and apart from any notions which we may have concerning Him. The worshiping heart does not create its Object. It finds Him here when it wakes from its mortal slumber in the morning of its regeneration."

A.W. Tozer

Amen

Letting Go

2007-03-12T13:00:00.000-07:00

My life takes continuous curves and turns that I do not forsee. Many of these changes are good in the sense that any person might define. However, I have found it dumbfounding that I can see good in the worst of situations. Every part of me wants to deny the possibility hope, but I am utterly consumed by the promises of God. I simply cannot slough off the truth of God's Word.
I have lost my best friend. My brother is lost. He is not dead in the physical sense, but is dying spiritually. This may lead to physical death, but for now, his life is being sustained. Now, if there is one thing I value in my relationships, it is the spiritual condition of their heart. If I lose a friend in their physical body yet know that their spirit was alive and is now experiencing eternity, I have no reason to dispair. But this is not the case with my brother. My brother is gone.
I will not stop praying for him. I know that the Lord can lift him out of the pit at any moment. However, there is no desire for help within his heart.
He does not realize what he is doing. He is consumed with self-centeredness. This makes friendship hard as well as love. I am letting go. I am not giving up hope, but I must let go. This is the most loving thing I can do. Disagree if you want, but I love him so much that I must stop. If I don't, then loving turns into enabling.
I did not realize how much pain letting go entails. I think we think of pursuing love as the hardest. I have realized that it is really TRUE love that is the hardest. It consists of both a time of pursuit and a time of letting go.
I am not letting go because I have been used too many times. I am not letting go because I have been lied to so many times. I am not letting go because I will not be taken the fool once again. Letting go as the result of these reasons would mean that I value my pride too much to continue. I don't deserve any kind treatment. This world is fallen because of my sin. I am fully deserving of being made the fool until the day of my death. No, I am letting go because Christ commands us to in His Word.

1 Corinthians 5:5 "hand this man over to Satan, so that the sinful nature may be destroyed and his spirit saved on the day of the Lord.

This text in 1 Corinthians 5 talks about expelling the immoral brother. The key word here is brother. Paul is writing about a brother in the church, in the body of Christ. I am handing my brother over to Satan so that he will hit the bottom and realize that it is only the Lord that sustains him. I am doing this so that his spirit may be saved. I stand on the promise of God. I am not ashamed of my decision. I will stand firm. I do not enjoy doing this, but I take the peace of the Lord with me as I trust that His will be done. I pray for utter dispair and emptiness as he wallows in his sin. I pray this with the hope that he finds the hope and fulfillment that is only in the name of Jesus Christ.

I love you brother

Psalm 131

2007-03-04T12:34:00.000-08:00

My heart is not proud, O Lord, my eyes are not haughty;

I do not concern myself with great matters

or things too wonderful for me.

But I have stilled and quieted my soul;

like a weaned child with its mother,

like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, put your hope in the Lord

both now and forevermore.

Amen

weekend update

2007-03-03T13:49:00.000-08:00

Well, it is smack dab in the middle of the weekend. First off, I want to point out that time warped this past week. I checked the date one day and it was February 26th. One day later it was March 2. I almost freaked out. Anyway, some cool things have happened so far this weekend and the rest is looking pretty good as well.

#1 The blog about praying for what seemed impossible to become reality...well that happened last night. I went to the night club to pray for the people there with a buddy of mine and we ended up leaving a man with a Bible and a broken heart regarding his sinful ways. There were tears of sorrow and heartful repentence. What is so impossible about the situation? This guy has been a drunk for 14 years. This man was drunk when we met him. The Lord gave him clarity of speech and thought while we spoke with him despite his intoxication. Praise be to God for the work He did. I was so blind that I didn't even see what was happening until it was all over. My friend and I were blessed to be used as His instruments.

#2 Derek Webb is coming to Moody tomorrow for both a Q & A and a concert. It should be good to hear his views on current topics as he is a proponent Christ affecting society both here and across the world. I am excited to hear what his views are and to be challenged to think in new ways.

#3 I have the privilege of reading the Bible for my class assignments. What a blessing to enjoy what you read. What a blessing to be changed by what you study. Even though there is a lot to do, I am confident that the diligence of reading God's Word is effecting my entire being.

We shall see how the rest of the weekend pans out. This next week is the last week before spring break. Here at this fine institution we get two weeks for spring break. But, between now and next Friday I have much to do. I'd better get going and do it.

praying for the impossible

2007-02-26T20:11:00.000-08:00

There are so many things going on right now that I cannot figure out in my head. I want to do this. I want to do that. I wish this would happen. I hope I can go here. I wonder if "x" will come about. I pray for "y".

What this all boils down to is the fact that even though I cannot see how things will work out, I know who does. In fact, I am in love with the One who will work them out. I want to see the impossible become reality. I want to experience things that could never happen apart from divine intervention. Now, I realize that God has his hand in everything, but I truly don't even know where to start.

I want to see opportunity come my way from out of the blue. I want to see a life changed when I thought it was doomed. I want doors to fly open and doors to slam shut. I want a one track mind that is focused on One love. I want to soak up everything along the way. I want to see the future, but don't want to be blinded to the present. I want to please One. I want to stand upon the promises of Scripture and step out. I want to be brought low in humility and rebuilt in wisdom. I want to leave comfort. I want to be steadfast. I want to be patient. I want others to see Christ in the way I walk. I want to be salt and light even before I open my mouth.

I don't want to shy away from risk. I don't want to take my next breath without a thankful heart. I don't want to keep my mouth shut. I don't want to regret. I don't want to put forth less than I should have. I don't want to be famous. I dont want my pride to be fueled. I don't want to reject a compliment. I don't want to be passive. I don't want to forget the past. I don't want to dwell on the past. I don't want to be unlovely. I don't want to be selfish. I don't want to see the wicked prevail. I don't want to see the weak taken advantage of. I don't want to be sheltered. I don't want to be stagnant.

I want to see the kingdom come. I want to leave evil behind. I don't want to see pain or suffering. I don't want to hear stories about gangs murdering children. I want to live for Christ today. I want to hope for tomorrow. I don't want to see AIDS destroy the innocent. I don't want to see the impoverish.

I am here in this sinful world but a citizen of another. I do not want to escape this world now. I want the love of Christ to impact the present. I want eternal peace to come. I know this will not happen until all have heard. Until then, what I want is to see more colors, more faces; to hear more languages, and more dialects praising the King of the universe.

The King is witholding his wrath so that more may come. However, when He does come, what a dreadful day it will be for the wicked. Justice will prevail. God will fulfill His promise. What was impossible will be horribly real. No longer will they blaspheme. No longer will they laugh.

Know that God's law is being broken and He will not forgive the wicked apart from Christ. There will be a time when it is too late. We cannot convince ourselves that Elohim and impossibility can coexist. It is impossible for me to be perfect, but Christ impossibly imposed his perfection upon me. I guess there really isn't anything impossible with God.

Maybe I am really just praying for the possible

the poison of pride

2007-02-20T11:33:00.000-08:00

At 6 o'clock on Tuesday mornings my dorm floor prays to start the day. It is not that we believe that 6 is better than noon or that the Lord will answer more of our prayers the way we would like if we lose sleep to pray. However, there is something to be said for sacrifice. There is something to be said for giving the firstfruits to the Lord. Starting the day off early with prayer is a good way to focus on our need for God and to be reminded that He must receive our very best, the first bite, if you will. Anyway, as I prayed with my roommate this morning, I truly felt the Spirit of the Lord moving through us as we prayed for our nation.

I am not into politics nor do I like politics. I believe there is a lot of corruption and deceit in government and so I try and stay away from it as much as possible. Whether or not this is the right approach...well that is another blog that I am working on. I find that praying for the entire nation of America to repent is a tough pill to swallow. The Bible says that every nation will turn against Israel in the end. Yes, even America the beautiful will be the enemy of God's chosen people. Nevertheless, even though I know what will eventually happen, it does not mean that between now and that time that the Lord cannot bring about a revival that would bring many to faith. Because I do not know what will happen, I can honestly pray that the Lord change the heart of our wicked nation. It is this hope that allows my heart to pray in Spirit and in truth with full expectation that God will move in such a way if He so desires.

As we prayed for our nation, I realized that pride has become the venom of the enemy to paralize society in sin. Pride is so often thought of as that boy who won little league game and would not stop boasting even to prevent the huge chunk of Big League Chew from falling out of his mouth. However, pride is a crafty sin that takes many of us by surprise. Pride takes the average person and turns him into a rationalizing idiot. Pride disguises itself as a morality scale that is squared up against the acts of others. Pride is the very thing that can be both the offender and defender at the same time. Pride is the essence of self-absorption and spiritual blindedness. How can pride be all of this? How can this seemingly harmless sin darken the lives of so many? It is because it is the exact opposite of what Christ has called us to be.

Pride has no place in a heart given to Christ. Pride elevates the person on an illusionary pedistal. Pride tells us that we are thriving when, in fact, we are dying. If there was a portion of good in us that could redeem our sinful nature, then Christ did a foolish thing on the cross. What a horrible thing to count Christ as a fool. However, when we depend on ourselves for ANYTHING we essentially laugh at the cross of Christ.

My heart is not free of pride. In fact, pride disguises itself when the lost are found. Redemption becomes a weapon and is seen as a badge of honor for ourselves. I may look at a prostitute or a drunk and sigh with relief that I am not sinning as they are and walk on by. It is in that moment that I have declared that I was involved in my soul's redemption and that I should be commended for my inability to sin in such ways.

I believe that, instead of thanking God that I am not stuck in such sin and continuing on, we should look into the eyes of that precious creation of God and see that the very breath that resides in them is the same that dwells in us. I believe that we should equate ourselves with prostitutes and drunkards because prostitution and drunkeness are the result of us trying to fix ourselves. Void of Christ, we are no different. This should bring about a heart of praise. If He were to withdraw, we would grasp at straws just like any other and commit the same sins.

Pride is the same both to the believer and to the nonbeliever. It can blind us to the need for redemption and it can blind us of the One who redeemed us. However, I believe that pride is at the core of this messed up country. Only when I can pray with a humble heart can I effectively battle the prideful heart. This applies to the struggle within myself as well as the struggle with people I encounter. I must humbly accept that I did nothing to deserve or obtain redemption. God's grace allows me to receive blessing instead of the damnation that I justly deserve.

Jesus paid it all
All to Him I owe
Sin had left a crimson stain
He washed it white as snow

I want to go...finally

2007-02-12T16:39:00.000-08:00

Ahhhhh! I have gotten there. So many years it has taken. So many kicks in the ole behind it has required. I finally have been brought to the point where I am willing to go. My heart is ready to go wherever. From this point on, I can only move forward. There will be times when I will second guess, but the fact that I am so absolutely ready makes the road marker permanent. I am ready to go into missions.

My heart has resisted so many times. All of these reasons are selfish. Money, safety, inconvenience; these all factor into my reasons for resisting the heart for missions. However, if I desire to serve only my God, then these feelings need to go. These points in the Christian walk are what truly advance our ability to grow. When we are seeking to honor the Lord in everything, we find that letting go is often a necessity. It is somewhat funny that since I have let go, I have never felt so peaceful. I don't think this is an accident. This is God's promises coming to fruition.

I am not saying that I know that I am going to go overseas for good. However, my heart is fully willing and ready to go if the call is there. Coming back from China has changed my worldview drastically. How beautifully hard this change has been.

Here were my reservations. I so desire to have a wife and children. My heart is for China. I believe that if I am called, I will go to China. China is not exactly safe for Christians, at least not in the places where I desire to go if called. Could I really come to terms with bringing my family into a dangerous situation? Another thing, I know neither Cantonese or Mandarin. I would have to be educated. Yet another problem, my own vision for my future would be drastically thwarted if I went into full-time missions.

Here are the reasons why these reservations cannot stop me. Number one, being a full-time missionary doesn't mean I cannot have a family. Number two, how the heck would I inherently know Chinese. This reservation is motivated by laziness. Number three and most importantly, God is the One who will work it out. I have to do nothing besides seek Him. If I am to go, I will go. If I am to have a family, I will have a family. If I need to learn the language, God will provide. If God wants me to be safe, He will protect me. If God wants me to give my life over there, He will take it. I have no claim on my own life. I have willingly given it to Him in the first place.

I don't know if I will be called. I do know that if I am, I will go. I don't know if I will have a family. If God blesses me in such a way, well then, I'll take it. The people of China have a passion to preach the Word. The people of China are searching for the Word. They are hungry. If I have to sacrifice my life so that I may see more saints come into the Kingdom, then I will do so. What a beautiful position to be in. I fully rely on God to make it clear. Whatever direction that is, whether it be here in the states or across the ocean, I will be in the Lord's arms. I am not scared anymore. I have one purpose. I must glorify my God with my entire being.

Amen

healing in the mourning

2007-02-10T13:56:00.000-08:00

Here at Moody we just had Founders Week. It was a great time of being fed the Word in abundance for 6 days. I will share just a few quotes from the speakers that hit me quite hard.

"One day I will stand before my Maker and give account for what He gave me, not what He gave you."
- Ian Leitch

"Even though [we] can't figure out the storyline, it doesn't mean there isn't a story."

"When the facts of faith come in contact with what seem to be the facts of life, you find that your faith is in peril."

"God doesn't give us answers, He gives us Himself."
-Haddon Robinson

"The God of creation is in the business of restoration."
-Alistair Begg

I must say that the words that I heard this weekend were wonderful. However, it was the response in my heart that was the real miracle. The Lord brought about something that I did not expect from such a great week. He brought about mourning. He is still bringing mourning.

This mourning that I speak of is the result of my recognition of the condition of my heart. I am realizing the total depravity that I have apart of Christ. I do not think that I have truly thought of the implications of sin in such a way. I sat in the auditorium reading the words on the screen while thousands of saints proclaimed the glory of God. Had I opened my mouth, I would have wept bitterly. I was able to see the state of my heart through the eyes of Christ. I was able to see sin through the lens of God Almighty. I saw myself nailing Christ to that cursed tree. I saw my hands shedding the blood of the Savior. I saw the choices I make as they blind me to the open arms of God and slap Him in the face. I saw the tears of the Lamb in anguish as the Father was forced to look away. My emotions could hardly be held together.

This type of mourning I have never done in such magnitude. In fact, I believe that I need to take time to actually mourn period. I have not yet released the emotions that need to be. I have been brought to the point of weeping but have not yet wept. I have been to the point of realization but have not yet cried out. Even if I do, what will this bring about. It seems that mourning would not produce good fruit. However, I believe it is vital to mourn our souls in order to fully realize grace.

When I can open up the caverns of my heart and see the poisonous venom that runs within, clear my vision and see the blood of Christ pouring over that putrid waste, only then will I know what Christ's sacrifice means. I will daily realize that the crucifixion was not a fable but a once-and-done sacrifice that constantly cleanses me from now until that glorious day that I am made wholly perfect. If I do not see that I am dead without Christ, then I can never experience what it means to live with Him.

No greater love. No greater sin. I cannot separate the two. I cannot accept the one without the other. I cannot pick one to dwell on and be complete. I have been saved, but God wants and lets me know what it is that I am saved from. This is truly a blessing. Mourning is a blessing. No greater blessing than to have the Almighty King reveal Himself in more clear light. Rather, no greater blessing than to have the veil removed a little more so that we may see the King as He has already revealed Himself to us. If it takes tears to wash the eyes of my heart, then let the tears flow.

2007-02-07T22:44:00.000-08:00

This blog was originally written on March 26, 2006. This blog was probably my most in depth piece yet. It brought about my love for writing and my first realization that I could think a little deeper than my superficial tendencies of the past. I have changed since then, and my views on this topic may be a little different now. However, the purpose of writing is to see how your attitudes and values change. It is nice to look back:

Love ------ I will be taking excerpts from C.S. Lewis' book Mere Christianity as well as the Bible and my own interperetation in my attempt to convey what true love is

Is love at its core, a feeling?
You see, that is what we have all been grown to believe our entire lives.
However, I submit to you, love itself is not a feeling at all.

Love is committment.

Now, we must define committment. Does committment mean as long as we want to do something, we will continue? Does it mean that only as long as that passion for something is still raging, we will continue to be faithful to it?

No! Committment in itself is a promise. However, promise in this day in age is based upon feelings. True committment is an undying promise to follow through with something no matter what arises and no matter what feelings occur along the way.

Now, feelings are a byproduct of anything we do. They are not (or should not) be the reason why we take action. Feelings are encouragement and discouragement to continue to do something or to quit.

Any choice based upon encouragement and discouragement is really not solid at all. Choices based on truth are the only solid foundation.

If there is no absolute, there cannot be truth. If there is an absence of truth, there can be no right choices or wrong choices; there can only be choices based upon feelings. And as I have just said, feelings are no basis for right choice.

So, we must accept that if a choice is made void of feelings, rather, absolute truth, then no matter what happens, that choice is rooted in something infallable. Having all of these things set in place lends us to the ability to make a true committment.

Again, a true committment is based on unshakable promise, which is rooted in absolute truth, which is eternal and undying.

Let us weave this back to love.

Feelings of love are not fake whatsoever. I myself know how these feelings can affect judgement and actions. And, if, first being rooted in absolute truth, these feelings are not bad. However, they cannot be relied on to sustain committment.

Now I start to take what I have learned from C.S. Lewis

Being in love is not the same as love. Being 'in love' is the early stages of love. Mainly based upon feeling, a decision of whether or not committment will be made insues. Being in love is such a blessing. It is a time when we discover what it feels to be adored and to adore.

However, anyone who has been "In Love" knows what it feels for those feelings of complete joy to start to wane. This is where the foundation of committment begins to show its true strength.

"Love (apart from being in love) is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit...The two can have this love for each other even at those moments when they do not like each other; as you love yourself even when you do not like yourself. They can retain this love even when each would easily, if they allowed themselves, BE 'IN LOVE' with somebody else." - C.S. Lewis

Once those feelings of being 'In Love' leave, and you have made the committment to love this person no matter what, you begin to discover what true love is. Love means no matter what the situation, you will forgive, you will be faithful, you will not go back on your promise.

However, those feelings of being 'In Love' will come back. Maybe not for long, but you will be blessed with those feelings again if you stay committed. And, as a result of that undying committment, those hardships will come as well. These feelings continue to come and go, but again, that will not matter if you will remain faithful no matter what. Life is not fair, but love rooted in absolute truth will always remain. You will have that one thing in life to count on. No matter what the situation, if you stay true in your relationship, life will be manageable.

Now, you may all think I am talking about human relationships. In a sense, we as humans can grasp that. But, we are not perfect. We have no ability to remain committed wholeheartedly without the Absolute working through us.

That absolute is Christ. He is is the one we must root our committments in. Hebrews 13:8 - Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.

For God demonstrates his own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. -- Romans 5:8

God will not change, He has loved us before the creation of the world, He loves us now, and He will love us forever.

If we do not base our earthly love on a Love, that is God, which never changes and is always faithful, we will be disappointed with anything we look to. If we can experience pure love, we will never go back. God loves us when we are unlovable. No matter how you have been hurt in this life, tainted by satan and his evil, you have the gift of love awaiting you. God only tells us to receive it. All we must do is give all control to Him and run into His open arms. Once we do that, we will experience His unfathomable love on this earth, and once we die, we will bask in His love forever and ever in His Holy Presence.

I promise that receiving that Love will heal the wounds you thought unhealable. It may not be immediate or exactly how we would like, but Christ's power gives us that ability to heal. But, it takes that committment on your part to love God as He loves us. If you do, the worries of this life will be manageable because you know that God is there as your comforter at all times.

Amen Lord Jesus!!
I LOVE YOU!

some warmth amidst this stone cold city

2007-02-05T15:04:00.000-08:00

This past weekend started out like one of those days where you just can't find anything to do. These days dumbfound me because there is absolutely no reason for your attitude to be so blah, but nevertheless, it is blah. So, Friday started this way. I just sat in my room and then wandered around the floor a little bit. However, I apparently forgot that there is an entire city right outside my window. Eventually I kicked myself in the head and told myself that I needed to get out. It is very lonely if you wander the streets of Chicago by yourself, at 10 degrees farenheit, late in the evening. I decided to invite my new brother Jon from O.C., Cali to go on a little walk. So we did.

Initially we were walking for no reason and with no intended destination. However, the Lord has a weird way of prodding me when I am doing something without purpose. So, we prayed that the Lord would bring about someone for us to talk to. If not, we would enjoy a nice walk and some good conversation. Nothing happened for the longest time. We just walked and froze. We shared testimonies and just got to know one another a little bit more. We were approaching lower Wacker, which is a place where many homeless live, and decided to check it out. We did not initially see anyone and so we decided to head to Excalibur. Excalibur is one of the biggest dance clubs in the Chicago and is known throughout the world. We figured there must be tons of people there to get to know.

We approached the club and, sure enough, there were tons of people waiting in the freezing cold to get in the place and start living the "good life". We met a man who was standing outside and talked to him for a little while. Jon and I listened to the rundown of the history of the building and such. We turned around after a few minutes and saw a man staring at us with glazed-over eyes. I knew he was really drunk. But, we turned to him and started a conversation. We learned some about who he was and where he was from. It was great to be able to share the love of Christ through simple conversation. This man had been beaten and battered by society and by his own bad decisions. This is the first time that I have felt the Lord calling me to love another person in this city by just speaking with an honest heart. I was filled with joy just sitting there talking to this troubled man. My joy was from the Lord as He worked through me. I found that my heart can love someone in the middle of a cold night, in the middle of a cold city, without any reason other than to conform more to the likeness of Christ.

I don't know if I had any impact on this man's life. He was drunk, but I think he still understood that Jon and I cared about him. I pray for this man. I pray that when I get to heaven, I will see him there. I pray that he will realize the source of the love that we showed for him. Either way, I have never gotten so much from giving. My heart has changed in its view of this dark city. There is a harvest field. So many need His love. If I can be the vessel for this, then I am fulfilling my purpose. What a great weekend.

angels and demons

2007-02-02T16:38:00.000-08:00

I am reading this book currently about the persecuted church in China. This book is a novel by Randy Alcorn, but I believe the Lord has given him an incredible gift by allowing him to write windows into the spiritual realm while living in the physical. If you are a believer, you cannot help but read with tears in your eyes from the beautiful picture that this man paints of the battle between heaven and hell. The vivid images in my mind produce an excitement within me that has not been rivaled since I first had the Chronicles of Narnia read to me. But this, this story of epic proportions, is happening. It really exists. It is because of this truth that my imagination is finally able to bleed into reality. It is every kid's dream!

Going through life, it is easy to become calloused to the knowledge that there is a war going on all around us. We cannot see it or hear it in most cases. I believe that there are occasional manifestations of this incredible battle that allow us humans to catch a snapshot, but we do not hear of it often, at least not here in America. Thinking more about that, it is probably good that we don't hear about it often because our natural reaction to such things would be to develop a money making ploy. Anyway, whether we try and deny it or not, our very souls are being fought for. Some have been won, other's are still in the tug of war. Whatever your view is on how this works, one thing remains..."seek and you will find" (Matt. 7:7). God says it so I will just go ahead and say that the trump card has been laid. But just think, what initially seems like fiction is actually happening. Evil versus good. We grow up seeking those stories with our hearts.

Many deny this possibility, but I believe it is because they have not looked into the situation. I had read about and prayed that I could catch glimpse of the supernatural. The more I was interested, the more I became intuitive about what was going on. I believe the Spirit of God allows us to sense when evil is present the more we seek His guidance. This makes sense since we are seeking the Spirit of the Almighty God who is in the spiritual realm. When we become sensitive to His presence, I believe He allows us to be exposed to the other side. In my own experience, there have been monumental points where I have encountered that other side. To be honest, when you get a taste of that side, you know without a doubt that you want no part in it. They are the most terrifying experiences of my life. In those moments, you learn what it truly means to run into the arms of your Father all over again. No one can stand up to the devil under his own power. There is no question. Thankfully, the Lord has used those experiences to verify to me that He does exist and that He is who He says He is. I think that is why we are exposed to such terror; to prove to us that God is a warrior and to remove the possibility of us taking credit for what is not ours. If we realize that our only hope is the Lord in such times, then we have no one to praise but the God of heaven.

This book is humbling me to the point that I am realizing, once again, that... "our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms" (Eph. 6:12). Christ has overcome those forces already when He defeated Satan on the cross. When we resist and call upon the name of Christ for help, we can know this: "In the race of the Christian life, every believer's victory is ASSURED because Someone else has already been declared the winner. The life that I now life, no matter how difficult the struggle, is really just a victory lap" (John Koessler). We cannot be ignorant of the fight that is going on, but we can take joy in the fact that it has been won. Having experienced another dose of the devil's attempt to terrify me this past week, I am brought to my knees to acknowledge that the spiritual realm is real and that the King has dominion over it all!

Amun Zhu Yesu Jidu

Getting Back

2007-02-01T11:19:00.000-08:00

What a beautiful thing it is to get back to what you know is right. This is not some place specifically or an activity that just "completes" you in some way. I am talking about getting back into the place where you know you are loved and cared for: the arms of God. Being in Chicago this semester has once again began to affirm me that I am here because the Lord has declared that I should do so. The peace that He promises to give when we are serving Him is enough to make me stay put and soak it up.

This peace would be quite uncertain if I did not see any fruit from being here both in my own life as well as in the lives of the other brothers on this floor that I live on. The pain that has gone and is going through Culby 3 is being surpassed by the joining together of believers and the sharpening of iron by iron. The questions that we all have, the uncertainties, the doubts; they all are present but are combated by the joining of hearts in community and lifting up of one another. Some are at their lowest point and some are on the mountaintop. We cannot survive without each other's circumstances. Those who have joy can spill over to those who feel empty and minister to their pain. We expect the tide to turn sometime and those who were giving of themselves so graciously will become the men who need to be invested in more intentionally. This is brotherhood. This is the Body.

It brings me to tears to think of the faithfulness of God in my life compared to the unfaithfulness I return to Him. But, these tears must be tears of joy and thankfulness because of the grace I have received instead of tears that resurrect the knowledge of my corrupt being. God forbid that I turn the attention to myself and overlook the gift that has been offered me so freely. Even in pain and sorrow, we are not to be self-centered with our thinking. Conversely, in our blessing and joy we are to keep our eyes toward heaven so that we are ever reminded that no amount of hard work or worth have we that could have brought about such things.

I am finding this in my own life. Am I praying so that others will hear a good prayer? Am I even writing this solely for the purpose of receiving recognition? My selfish nature is so deeply rooted that I cannot even recognize its ugly face. My mouth moves and the noise comes out, but do the praise choruses ring true in my heart? I should think that my mouth would be better closed than spewing lies. I am not without hope. I am recognizing the depth of my depravity and so can remedy the heart of the problem. And there you have it; my heart is the problem. But, I am coming back. I am being wooed by the Lover of my soul, the King of my being, my Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ. I am coming back. I am seeing once again what it means to die to self and surrender all. I am not there, but I am coming back.

"Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ. From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work." Ephesians 4:15-16

just another sanic sunday...doesn't really sound the same

2007-01-28T13:58:00.000-08:00

Well, I spent this weekend at home. I needed to come home and get away from the worst three weeks in history. However, God is still good and He is ever-faithful. I can give you a short rundown of what I did this weekend if you'd like.

-started reading and decided never to finish a certain novel in the span of one chapter
-watched a crazy movie with no words; only fast-motion video and 20th century, Phillip Glass music
-re-pierced my left ear which tried to close on me
-took some terrible photos of my house
-ate a frisco melt with 3x more dressing than should be allowed on a burger with toast
-redeemed the insane sandwich with an incomprehensibly thick strawberry shake
-used a toothbrush that had been unwrapped in the drawer in my house for months
-slept in my queen size even though I would vouch that I am more deserving of a king due to my huge ego
-realized that my money will no longer be mine after February's school payment
-decided to invest in a cajon instead of a djembe
-confirmed that my church needs to be reformed
-confirmed that my church appoints great Sunday school teachers
-didn't do homework
-realized once again how much like hell war is
-sobered that many people who experience the hell of war will experience the hell of hell
-ate my mother's good cookies
-was refreshed and ready to tackle the rest of the semester

It was a good weekend. I am thankful to have a family that loves me. I also realized how rare my family is. God is good.

2007-01-27T12:37:00.000-08:00

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a fast revelation

2007-01-25T11:23:00.000-08:00

Wow! All I can say is wow. God is good. If He is not, then pain has no purpose. I will tell you what happened in the past day.

Yesterday my floor fasted all day from food. We took time throughout the day to have community prayer with one another, but we were trying to promote an attitude of prayer in whatever we were doing. Obstaining from food makes us realize the sustaining energy that food provides. In response, we can see how much greater the Lord sustains us because He is the one that provides our daily food. When fasting, the times of greatest hunger should provoke our minds to think of the Lord and to ask Him for satisfaction instead of turning to a sandwich.

I do not put a tag on fasting and say that it magically brings about miracles in and of itself. However, when we seek the Lord with all of our hearts, we tend to see Him working in ways that we may not realize on a daily basis. Fasting makes us more aware of the little things that the Lord does for us. To be honest, my day of fasting did not go well. It wasn't that I kept sneaking food, but more that I did not want to seek the Lord. This has been a problem of mine for a few weeks and I was not seeing any response from the Lord as I asked Him to prod me to seek Him. I felt cold and I felt lonely.

We broke the fast at around ten o'clock last night with a good number of the men on the floor. We opened with music and a short testimony of what my friend Jake had experienced during the day. His results were very positive as He was able to focus greatly on the Lord. As we ate some cheese, apples, and honey, we heard more people speak of their good experiences that they had had. I was having none of it as my day, quite honestly, was no good. Then it came time for me to share. I could not be dishonest. I told everyone how my day had gone and that I was worn down from seeking and not finding. I knew that the Lord was the only one who could satisfy me, but I didn't want to go to Him because I felt He had left the scene. This scared me as I caught a glimpse of, what I thought, my faith slipping.

In reality, I was not slipping. The Lord knew that it was enough. He knew that it was time for Him to reveal Himself to me once again. This came about as the next hour or so was spent hearing testimonies of how broken many of the men on the floor were. Many of us are being tortured inside by different circumstances. Some of us broke down, me being one of them. We then just sang and prayed for healing. We prayed that as we were completely empty of all other hope besides the Lord, that He would fill us with peace. Healing came to our floor. I should not say that everyone is completely fine, but we had a time of new beginning. Graciously, the Lord came to me and filled me. My dispair is gone. I feel Him once again. What a blessing it is.

It is incredible to know that he Lord only lets His children go so far in their suffering and then He steps in. He allows the refining fire to blaze and burn in us until that dross is removed. It is all within His control. His love is too great to allow it to consume us completely if we have been called to His side.

I am going home this weekend. I am going home to digest all that has happened thus far in the semester. I can finally absorb the beauty of my trip to China and see how the Lord worked. I can rest and see how what all the Lord has taught me in some of the hardest spiritual times I have had in my life. I can be with my family who is excited to see me. I am loved by them and I have something to go home to. My heavenly Father is the same way. He wanted me to come back to Him and see the love He has for me. I won't argue it. There is no place I'd rather be.

How marvelous, How Wonderful, and my song shall ever be
How marvelous, How Wonderful, is my Savior's love for me

lost in the faces?...not even close

2007-01-23T11:41:00.000-08:00

This morning I had somewhat of an epiphany. For the past few weeks my soul has been troubled and so I have found no peace in the Lord. I felt that He was distancing Himself to teach me a lesson. This could have very much been the case, however, I feel that I did go after the Lord to see where He might have gone. Now, this is all figurative language of course because I know that He is omnipresent. On the other hand, due to our emotions and current circumstance, I feel that His presence is not so obvious to us.

This morning I was really at my wits end. I had bits and pieces of peaceful moments throughout the week, but it was always fleeting. It was if God was saying, "Hey Jeff, you know I am here, but I am not going to lead you by the hand like a little child. It is time to grow up a little and do some seeking of yourself." I was journaling my prayers as I often do right after I wake up. The first part of the prayer was to simply ask God to bring my heart to the point of desire for His presence. I proceeded in the next few lines to tell Him about how my life has sucked recently when it hit me. I knew this whole time where God was.

Jesus Christ went through the torment of crucifixion to pay for our sins. Right? Okay, but the journey to the cross is what makes Him our compassionate friend, our sympathizer, if you will. Whatever amount of ridicule or coldness I experience from others, it cannot compare to the loneliness that Christ experienced. Not only did He get this from His people, but His own Father turned His face away as well. Realizing this illuminated my attitude as one of complete selfishness. Who am I to think that I am the only one who has suffered in such a way? The God that I thought had withdrawn was actually beside me helping me carry my burden and I was too absorbed with myself that I wouldn't turn my head to the right to see His arms carrying me.

Pain, loneliness, suffering, and many other bad things on this earth are truly hard to handle. Emotion is real and we cannot deny how we feel. However, if those emotions cloud the reality that Christ said He would never leave us nor forsake us, then we will miss the point of suffering entirely. You can be told this over and over again, but I believe that one must realize it wholly for himself. There can be no true application until we grasp this reality with our hearts. It seems like we would be entitled to be selfish in times of trial, but God has made no excuses for self-centeredness anywhere in His Word. So, we must conclude that our lives are meant to be shared with Him, and, thankfully, other people as well. However, Christ is the only one who can sympathize completely with what we are facing. Not sure why, but after twenty years I still lose sight of the hope that I have found in Christ.

Psalm 145 - A Psalm of Praise. Of David

2007-01-22T08:08:00.000-08:00

I will exalt You, my God the King; I will praise Your name for ever and ever. Every day I will praise You and extol Your name for ever and ever.

Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise; His greatness no one can fathom. One generation will commend Your works to another; they will tell of Your mighty acts. They will speak of the glorious splendor of Your majesty, and I will meditate on Your wonderful works. They will tell of the power of Your awesome works, and I will proclaim your great deeds. They will celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of Your righteousness.

The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love. The Lord is good to all; He has compassion on all He has made. All You have made will praise You, O Lord; Your saints will extol You. They will tell of the glory of Your kingdom and speak of Your might, so that all men may know of Your mighty acts and the glorious splendor of Your kingdom. Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and your dominion endures through all generations.

The Lord is faithful to all His promises and loving toward all He has made. The Lord upholds all those who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down. The eyes of all look to You, and You give them their food at the proper time. You open Your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.

The Lord is righteous in all His ways and loving toward all He has made. The Lord is near to all who call on Him, to all who call on Him in truth. He fulfills the desires of those who fear Him; He hears their cry and saves them. The Lord watches over all who love him, but all the wicked He will destroy.

My mouth will speak in praise of the Lord. Let every creature praise His holy name for ever and ever.

taking the valleys with the mountain tops

2007-01-20T11:11:00.000-08:00

I guess I have been on a spiritual mountain of some kind for almost a year and a half now. I don't mean that kind of fire that you get right after summer camp that fizzles out after a few weeks. I am talking about being blessed with a hunger and thirst for more of Christ almost every day for a consistant amount of time. Looking back, I enjoyed that time so much. There is no greater joy than to know that you matter to the Creator of the universe. Even more than that, having the true desire to look into God's Word and lift up your petitions to Him brings about a deep sense of fulfillment. Unfortunately, we cannot always live on the mountain tops. This is where I am at right now, in a bit of a valley.

I am not really depressed or anything like that because I still have hope. This hope is the only thing that keeps me going from day to day. I have a hope for a better future. More importantly, I have a hope that this valley will bring about my growth in the Lord. How many times was I unfaithful and God was never shaken? He continued to bless me with an excitement to go through the day and I would still choose to sin. Each morning, I was renewed. What a blessing that is! Praise God for His unconditional love.

So, how do I take this point in my life where God has not forsaken me, but has withdrawn the great feelings that I had every morning. This does not scare me, but it pushes me. I must remain faithful to my God even though I may not always feel like it. I don't have to fake my feelings or pretend that I am worshipping Him. Really, I believe I am called to pursue what I once had. Even more than that, I must pray for the desire to pursue because I really feel like even seeking Him. I think that we look at these valleys from the wrong perspective. If we are completely honest, we DON'T feel like seeking the Lord. This is okay because our faith is not based upon feelings. We have made a committment to following Christ. As it is within marriage, you must remain faithful to your wife even when you don't feel like it. Praying for the right heart that wants to pursue is not wrong. God knows our true heart, and he will meet us on the elementary levels that we are at. Beginning at wanting to want God seems so basic, but if we are not honest about our feelings, then we will never find the satisfaction of our truest needs.

This is where I am at. Do not be afraid when the feelings for God go. He has not left. He wants to see us return to Him. I believe He wants to see His children seeking Him. Just like any father would want to see his child looking for him, we need to pursue our Heavenly Father and display our love for His nearness. It is only within the arms of our God that we can truly feel safe. Matthew 28:20 "...And surely I am with you ALWAYS, to the very end of the age" (emphasis mine)

questions about love?

2007-01-19T16:41:00.000-08:00

I am taking this class here at Moody that is all about discussing challenging topics. I must say that I have never been challenged in such a great way to think about why I believe what I believe. As it turns out, I am not sure of a lot of things that I say I believe. There is no reason or background let alone research to back up what I say. I simply believe because...well, I don't know why.

The book we are reading challenged us to evaluate why we love. Do we truly love a person because they encompass a great human being? This book suggested that the reason we love and the attributes that we look for are really our search for God. We do not strictly love the person because God is love and we have Him written on our hearts. It is true that we may not know that we are searching for something as specific as God, but we do know how we want to be loved: unconditionally and whole-heartedly. There are so many problems with humans and our imperfect love is one of those problems. Why do we continue to pursue human love when we know it is full of flaws? I don't really have the exact answer to this.

However, if God made us in His image, then we have the ability to reflect God in our very essence. Maybe I love someone not because I want their love, but because I want perfect love. I don't know if I believe that statement, I am still struggling to find out what it is or what amount of God we can reflect in our lives. I believe that we can love people, but do we love them specifically or do we love the way they reflect how God loves us? It probably sounds like I don't believe I could love a woman, but I know that this is not true. I am simply trying to figure out why we even WANT to love another human. I have no doubt that God is weaved into our love for others. I believe that we can love God by loving others. So who are we really loving, the individual or God himself, or maybe even both? I would think that if we do love both in truth, then God would need to be loved more than the individual.

Maybe I am thinking myself in circles, but hey, it's my blog. I am just trying to sort things out. Maybe love is separated into human love and a love for God. They are both important then, and I think that God trumps all other forms. However, I like thinking that my love for others actually points to my true love for God and that I could actually love that person for the way God made them. It seems more personal. But, I still think about it.

not so revolutionary

2007-01-18T12:58:00.000-08:00

I decided to go to the museum of contemporary art the other night to get away for a while. I had never been to this museum and I went with an open mind to see the world through the eyes of some rather different individuals. I went to the first floor and saw a room full of abstract vinyl cutouts that had random numbers on them. I stood there looking intently, probably trying to look as understanding of the nonesense as possible. No real understanding came even after reading the little blurb painted on the wall. I left that particular room in high spirits because I saw some interesting art, but I was not concerned that I had no idea what it all meant. You could say I was encouraged a little bit as I realized that my mind could easily come up with that "art" as well.

I traveled the next flight of stairs and saw some incredible photography. Photos speak loudly to me and so I went through the next few exhibits happy because I was moved by the statements that the photos were making about the injustices that are going on in this world. The main exhibit was the Richard Tuttle works and I turned the corner to go see what he had to say about this life through his creative mind. I walked through the exhibit completely lost. Some of the random sculptures were genuinely interesting, but I was troubled by most of the pieces. There was absolutely no joining of thoughts on the wall. I watched a short film that dared to explain this madness and I began to get depressed. I am not joking, I began to feel a darkness in my soul because of this art. I am not saying that the art contained some sort of evil, but it did represent the lostness of this world, and, even more specifically, Richard Tuttle.

You see, Richard emerged as an artist in the sixties and was simply respected for having the title. He is truly in his own world of trying to understand the meaning of life. His sense of reality is so far gone that I began to long for understanding FOR him. Since he is now well-known, his art is not questioned but seen as something beyond what most people can comprehend. People assume there is meaning because Richard says there is meaning. Really, his art displays a chaotic mindset that is trying to convince itself that the path to true knowlege can be obtained through human effort. In the wake of his art, people revel at the "complexity" that Tuttle thinks and creates at. Finding true meaning is not needed because whatever the observers are told about the piece is what the art displays.

I should not be surprised because in my quest for finding out what the Lord is doing, I often read what I want to read and take my professors word as I would the Words of God. What brings me peace is when the Lord Himself reveals Himself to me. Debate about how He does this all day, but the Lord speaks today through many ways. I take hope in the fact that I don't need someone to tell me what God is saying. I do not discredit education or take wisdom from other people for granted. However, if we were left with a Bible glued to a white wall that could be read but had no sign next to it on what it meant, we can be sure that God would reveal Himself to us. That sign on the wall just may be the Holy Spirit to unclouds our confused minds and allows us to grasp the grace of God. Maybe the mysteries of this world are not so abstract after all.

2007-01-17T12:14:00.000-08:00

Coming back to the states brings the past two weeks into perspective. I cannot really explain all that went on because the majority of people reading this don't want to sit through a day by day rundown of what happened. However, I can sum the trip into a sentence. The country of China now has faces, names, and feelings. Landing on the ground in Hong Kong was cool. Driving through the streets of the big city was downright incredible. However, I only saw another city: cold, consumed by money, and busy. Despite culture shock, the main difference from my life here in Chicago is that I could have gotten lost in the faces much faster. I was just another number, another tourist, another American with American dollars. In return, I had no love for these people. I had no connection with them. The problems I face in the states are the same they face in China as far as humanity is concerned. I worry about money and power and position as does every resident of Hong Kong.

Needless to say, I was scared that my heart would be as cold and hard as the stares that I got. However, my love for the Chinese was found on the spiritual level. I went from the wealth of Hong Kong to the more simple life of Hoi Ping. I could now digest what I was seeing. I established the relationships that I needed in order to even care about the problems in that country. My love existed only because the Divine wrote it upon my heart. I could not attribute this to anything but my care for the body of Christ because apart from the spiritual, I could not and did not love.

However, the spiritual came about through the eyes of a child. Her english name is Tracy and I unfortunately do not know her certainly beautiful Chinese name. She is pictured above. My love for the people of China began as God inscribed it into my being, but was nutured and blossomed into an all-encompassing compassion for the Chinese through the innocence of a five year old child. From my love of their spirit to my desire to see them well fed, my heart grew in its humanity. Tracy contains my love for that country within her eyes and smile. We cannot see true happiness in her smile. To me, this symbolizes the minimal and uncertain hope that the many of the Chinese put into their pagan gods. Nevertheless, they search. Her eyes symbolize the intricate beauty that God has woven into His people over there. Not only physical, as Tracy is a beautiful little child, but God has pieced together a people who are curious for more knowledge and who want to share with you their tradition.

I cannot explain why this picture hit me so hard, but I know that I will forever love these people because of the way the Lord connected me to a culture through the face of a child. No matter how many more hours I stare at her, I will not be satisfied with two weeks in China. The people of China need hearts that love them and love Christ. I had no idea that they could capture my heart by simply being who God created them to be. I guess I should not be surprised at the basic ways that God sometimes works.