Sons and Daughters

A lot of these are interchangeable.

What I would do if I had a son:
-take him to the woods and show him the trees and the rocks
-throw rocks and climb trees
-throw him in the air and catch him
-build something
-headbang out to some hard core music
-tell him I loved him
-catch a fish

Wet

The cold all around next to the skin,
it's fingers reaching into every crevice,
never leaving, always yielding,
Enveloped in gentle folding caress.

Deeper and deeper, the pressure grows.
Darker and blacker, flowing and swirling.
Dripping, running, the sounds off my nose,
Demanding the air I breath.

Smoothly rendering silks unnecessary
Infinite lips kissing my skin
Warm to cold if but wait awhile
Oh! What joy I find myself in.

Corns and Asparagai

I love to bbq. I love the standing around cooking meat to perfection while hanging with friends and listening to their lives and passions. Plus, who doesn't love a good juicy burger or corn? It's one of the few times when you can cook with your guests because the act of grilling itself requires the flow of words across it: the petty competition of who knows more about such and such, politics, the latest news, family and randomness all braided through the smoke rising off some juicy brauts. Surely this is what meal times were created to be.

Poetry of Life

There is much in this world. True, a lot of it is fluffy crap, things that don't matter, that fill up our lives with meaninglessness. But underneath it all runs a river of poetry, a song that fills things with wonder, with beauty. I wish I could live in that river. I wish I could always talk in poetry, where every word matters and brings with it an essential piece without which everything is incomplete. Perhaps that is something to strive for.
You know, it is easier to just let the wave of advertising, the black hole of mindless entertainment to suck you in, to shove down the feelings that hurt, that are scary, that require unprecedented risk and just live your live unconscious without really living. I know I do it. More than I care to admit really. But how to get out? To break out of this rut; not onto flat ground but into the tallest mountains, the greenest valleys, to swim the raging oceans, and sleep by the softest stream. We are not called to do this alone however. Take someone by the hand and enter the unknown together for all beauty is in vain if it is not shared.

Words

I've been reading a book by Brennen Manning and he is really one of the most eloquent users of adjectives I've read, which makes sense since he's attempting to describe God. In the book he frequently caveats his paragraphs by saying that words can't really describe the true essence of the love of God; the particular thing he's attempting to describe. But what really gives words meaning? I think we are trying to wrap our language around ideas or feelings or concepts or God to describe them and define them so that we might attempt to share these with someone. Do we succeed?

Lines

I feel like I'm drifting. Like I'm not really living for something outside of myself. It's like I've lost my soul. Colors are grayer, music just sounds devoid of real depth, life resolved to money and pointlessness. I've fallen deeper than ever before and I'm just numb.

So here it is. The line in the sand. I've drawn it before, but here it is again. Holiness is not something cheap. It requires your very life. The death of your passions, the death of your feelings and dreams so far as they serve to fulfill and satisfy completely. There is something greater, someone higher. I have to believe this, what is there left? How do I deepen this relationship with Jesus? I don't want the soft mushy answers. I want to see stories of redemption, stories played out in front of me of people being healed, people overcoming, of loving each other, restoring the color, the laughter, meaning dissolved in our tears.

But alas, for what purpose? Is there still the stain of selfishness at the root? Do I desire this for my happiness, for my completeness alone? Or is this a line that must be walked, a both/and situation? I don't know.

The Badge of Law

Twelve o’clock the train arrives.

Twelve o’clock is the time to die.

Why here? Why not run? I’m only a little star.

Am I worth so much that you must die?

They say he will not follow you.

They say he will not hunt you down.

Well, what do they know? Nothing!

Alone. We are all alone.

Fear is creeping in.

I can see it in the lines of your face.

Fear of death and for Amy.

You were so happy. So alive.

You cannot think of her. But you do.

The love is there.

Her leaving hurts more than death.

She doesn’t understand.

This town, are they content to hide behind me?

Do they not know they are responsible?

They must not.

Miller is coming.

Nothing can stop him.

Nothing but lead.

Running is not an option.

I can see you’ve made up your mind.

Better death fighting than life in fear.

These men are cowards.

Memories are funny things.

Which ones choosing to stay or leave.

Shots in the street.

Women and children running.

Fear. Death.

But we changed that.

We brought peace.

Will no one fight for peace?

Will no one fight for justice?

To die is nothing.

To die alone is hell.

Sacrifice and Joy

Much of our lives involve a complex dance around a shape of distinction, balancing between two or more extremes, always with the goal of living holistic and healthy lives. I'd argue that this dance happens only if we are aware of this tension as we will naturally drift toward the extremes.

The most important of these I believe is the tension between our call to sacrifice and our selfishness. This plays out in many forms, a common one being marriage. As a man, I am called to love my wife as Christ loves the Church, sacrificially, putting her interests, her health, her life above my own. Sounds pretty good. Hard, but I can see where this is going. But wait. These things aren't done in a vacuum. Am I not doing this to get something out of it? Sex perhaps, or maybe fulfillment, joy, or life lived with another, to know and be known, or having a partner who encourages and stands with you through good times and bad? Yes, there certainly are aspects of this thing that appeal directly to the self. And it's NOT bad. In fact, I think it is necessary.

Sequels and Subsequent Squeals

We are surrounded by sequels. Anything that has ever been a success has been capitalized on, and if by the rare chance it hasn't yet, just wait. I'm waiting for Fiddler on the Roof 2 to come out any time now. But is this good? Are we that jaded in needing ever "new" and better that we can never appreciate the old? And really, is anything ever really new? Sit down to a brand new sitcom and it's the same jokes, the same characters, the same awkward situations and mistakes, just packaged slightly differently. There are some sequels that are continuations of the story, examples like Lord of the Rings comes to mind. And not all sequels are bad, but I guess I'm just trying to questing the validity of milking every little bit out of an idea. Does that cheapen the idea?

Sure you see this in movies, but books as well. Take the 5 Love Languages. I've read it, and it was reasonably successful and well worth the read. And now you can get the 5 Love Languages of Children, the Single's Edition, a myriad of Devotional Books that follow along, the Five Languages of Apology, etc. etc. Really? It seems more of a ploy to capitalize on a successful brand than something designed to help people. I'm coming more and more to respect Harper Lee, the author of To Kill a Mockingbird. Her refusal to play the fame game and capitalize on (and in my opinion ultimately cheapen) her story is admirable.

A different example. Coffee shops. When we go into a coffee shop, we expect to get, within reason, whatever we want, so long as it pertains to coffee and/or breakfast burritos. The overabundance of choice on menus today it crazy, and expected. It seems like in the interest of providing all things to all people, we never master anything, and everything is cheapened. But this is our culture. Offend us once, and we will never return.

There are so many rabbit trails this could run down, but it all runs down to this. How do we preserve, create, appreciate true works of art, meaning, and life in our world today?

Christian? or PAGAN?

What makes something "Christian?" Go to your local Family Christian Bookstore and make a list. Verses. That's got to top the list. If you throw a verse onto something, especially if it is somewhat inspirational, put it on the shelf, man. I've wondered how far you could take that though. Could you put a verse on anything and make it work? Probably not. Though it would be cool to see Duet. 32:35 plated onto a .45 Colt or carved into the leg of a table and then sold at Mardels.

How about symbols? Not satanic symbols of course, that would be a little too obvious, but stuff like crosses, light, (Thomas Kinkaid anyone) doves, medieval romanticism, soft animals are all fair game. (pun kinda intended) Now, on one side, it is great to view innocence as something valuable, but to worship it like it was some idyllic virtue, is silly and dishonest. We live in a fallen world, a world that is crying out for truth, for relief from pain, for real answers that don't fail in the face of death, in the face of torture, in the face of brutality and hatred. To ignore that cry is to ignore the heart of God.

So what's to say that something is Christian or not? How do we take Paul's command to not make anybody stumble with our freedoms? With our increasing ease of access to information, how can me make sure nobody stumbles? Or should I say take offense to as this word now seems to mean? We can't. We just can't. The only ways would be to offer a soft, mushy version of the gospel that tries it's best to not offend, or to simply not offer anything at all. Try defending that from scripture.

Where are the Christian artists who capture beauty in color and in music, who don't shy away from the world, but offer something better, something the world doesn't understand? Where are the Christian authors who write gripping stories and let imaginations soar? Where are the businessmen who impact their communities with Christ? They're out there. Find them. Become them. Let us become lovers of music, lovers of beauty, lovers of talent, lovers of truth, lovers of Jesus who don't consume and criticize, but produce and love, who wrestle with the hard questions and live out our convictions.

Tuesday Sunrise

Recently I was flying from Tokyo to Seattle. It's an overnight trip, about 8-10 hours depending on your tail wind. The curvature of the earth takes you up past the Aleutians and down the coast. It was probably the most spectacular sunrise I've ever seen. Granted, I've not seen too many, silly sun rising so early, but this one truly was amazing. Flying at 40,000 feet, you get a much different perspective of the sun rising. Let me try to paint a picture for you in your mind.

There is a double layered sea of clouds below you drifting at different speeds and directions, resulting in a kaleidoscope of lace. As the rosy light slowly starts to creep over the horizon, it catches the top layer so that it's like we are flying straight into a mouth. It grows stronger and stronger and when we finally break the barrier, the plane is engulfed in rose colored light, sort of like we were chasing a rainbow and actually caught it, overwhelming us with growing color. The wispy top layer then starts to change and the rose slowly turns to gold. Not lame glittery, cold metallic gold but fantastic deep gold that lives and breaths. It catches the top layer too and pretty soon the plane sweeps into the golden mess. The sun is almost up now, and the contrast between the blue and the gold and the white strikes you with it's vividness. Welcome to Tuesday. Again. Silly Date Line.

Glowing Planktons

There is beauty in this world that makes you want to shout,
To cry with all your might with everything you got as loud as you can.
And then there's beauty that takes your breath away,
That captures your very soul and leave you speechless.
Whispering and vividly aware of every intricate detail.
Afraid that tat the slightest touch you might destroy it,
But finding that it only makes it better.
So you dance and twirl and laugh and the lights seem to laugh with you.
And you are overcome with awe and fall into silence
As you focus on the majesty of it all,
As it hits you like the waves you are standing in.
What's the purpose of these little light creatures?
Perhaps it's just for this moment,
When you stand captured by their twinkling and
Everything else just slips away.
At last you tear yourself away and get out of the water,
A few dim stragglers clinging to your skin and go sit up on the pier.
You see the little fish darting to and fro as they leave their sparkling trails.
The glow around the pier legs makes them rather ethereal
There is a line anchored into the water that produces a sort of sail glowing into the depths.
And the night takes folds you into it's warm dark arms.
Everything will be ok.

Holiness and Pain

So I'm sitting here in Thailand and it's a little bittersweet. Once again, the memories abound and it makes me sad. The joys of finding weird places to skype and searching for beautiful gifts and dreaming the whole time about sharing these crazy experiences with you someday are over. Yesterday I found a small flower. I'm not sure what kind it is but it's white with a yellow center with about six petals that spiral up. Incredibly beautiful in it's simplicity, I couldn't help but imagine how it would look in your hair. It would be the kind of beauty men swim oceans and fight to death for. But enough of that. I need to move on, but every step in that direction drives the cracks a little deeper, like smiling with chapped lips. I will be seeing a lot of great friends though today and it will be good. It will be very good.

Thailand is an interesting place, primarily made up of people whose existence is defined by consumption. People using each other for their own purposes is not only encouraged, it's screamed in your face. It is incredibly sad to watch people sometimes. Lonely, hurting people who desire intimacy; true, freeing, honest, passionate. And yet they settle for something so incredibly unsatisfying.

I went to a temple yesterday. Inside was a giant gold statue of Buddah with an incredible array of gold trinkets and small temples surrounding his pedestal. I couldn't help but think about the men who had built this place. You know, the ones that shaped this Buddah's eyes and low lobed ears and I wonder what they thought about as they did it. To watch people come in and pray, to offer incense and stick money into branch sticks that then form a sort of money tree and sprinkle holy water on their heads, is interesting. How often do we in America do the same things with our Christian god; our big good luck charm up in the sky? I think about how Solomon's Temple was purified by the awesome and fear inducing presence of God and how little we have left of this sense of what holy is anymore. Sausage egg McMuffins come close but even they fall short... but that's a post for another time.

Live

Do you ever feel inadequate to explain? To grab the words that are swirling around that are capable of capturing indescribable beauty, the intensity of the breaking of a heart, or some deep idea and all the colors and folds it is made of. The flow of a good conversation or the words in a classic work of literature come close but still there can be something lacking. Taking the emotions of our lives out of their inter-dimensional realm is a tricky thing, but when held in the hand of a master poet or musician or friend, they take on a power to conquer the world, or crush the masses, or create unspeakable beauty.

How much of the information out there is just numbing? The banality can be overwhelming and there is a longing for something to reach through the callouses of our souls. We get small glimpses I think, through certain relationships, through music especially, but most of it serves to reinforce the walls that we've built to protect this vulnerable beating soul in our chests. How sad. This "comfort." This apathy. Get out and live. Get out and hurt and forgive and love till you bleed. Because you will. And it will be worth it because you've lived.