“The closer you live to God, the smaller everything else appears.”
–Purpose Driven Life (Pg: 37)
I went to the funeral for a 3-year-old girl the other day.
She died from cancer in her daddy’s arms.
I sat in the front row across from her parents, sister, brother and weeping family.
It was a tragic and painful hour and a half.
The look in her father’s eyes was hauntingly blank, dazed, numb…absent.
The look of life had been drained away by death’s suffocating kiss.
She was a little ballerina they said, a princess who danced in tiny ruby colored shoes.
There was no dancing that day. It was awkwardly quiet, strangely frozen.
We didn’t know how to act, what to say, how to feel.
Most I am sure, felt the same urgency I felt, to get home and hug on my own little ones.
God is frighteningly close in death.
His presence is like a plunge in an icy river.
The sudden cold is an electrifying shock of reality. Everything comes alive, suddenly only one thing matters, only one purpose screams in your head…GET OUT!
Death pries open your slumbering eyes, it slaps you in the face, and it throws you in the river.
Like the frantic scrambling of one trying to get out of freezing water, so one’s vision is instantly refocused in the stunning light of death.
All of a sudden you become a sage, a Solomon or Solomons. With the force of scorpion’s sting out of know where, you become aware of what is most important.
Death has a sting…the sting of love.
Death forces you into the arms of those you love. It is here that God is found in death.
Where love is born out of senseless tragedy.
Everything becomes real simple, everything else becomes so very small, compared to the priority of loving those you love.
The first thing I did as I rushed home, the only thing I could think of…was love.
Death ended the embrace of one father but multiplied embraces in a hundred homes.
Everything got smaller that day…that happens when God shows up.
Friday, February 27, 2004
There's a party coming
The LORD of hosts will prepare a lavish banquet for all peoples on this mountain;
A banquet of aged wine, choice pieces with marrow, and refined, aged wine.
-IS 25:6
Jesus said He wouldn't drink of the vine until He sat with us in the kingdom.
So I guess they have had some choice wine in the heavenly cellars aging for a very long time. It's going to be some party!
lately, I find myself really longing for that day...
I'm so tired of all the excuses, all the distractions, all the forgetfulness.
Serving up an earthly banquet only to see so few come to the table.
Searching deep and long for some spiritual wine to offer and watch people turn their noses up at the drink.
Setting the table with care, with thoughtfulness and no one coming.
It gets old.
Where are the thirsty?
Where are those that love to dine?
I feel like Babu on Seinfield the other night...
He opened a restaurant that no one was interested in eating at.
I see him waving his finger at Jerry and saying:
"VERY BAD MAN, you very bad man..."
The LORD of hosts will prepare a lavish banquet for all peoples on this mountain;
A banquet of aged wine, choice pieces with marrow, and refined, aged wine.
-IS 25:6
Jesus said He wouldn't drink of the vine until He sat with us in the kingdom.
So I guess they have had some choice wine in the heavenly cellars aging for a very long time. It's going to be some party!
lately, I find myself really longing for that day...
I'm so tired of all the excuses, all the distractions, all the forgetfulness.
Serving up an earthly banquet only to see so few come to the table.
Searching deep and long for some spiritual wine to offer and watch people turn their noses up at the drink.
Setting the table with care, with thoughtfulness and no one coming.
It gets old.
Where are the thirsty?
Where are those that love to dine?
I feel like Babu on Seinfield the other night...
He opened a restaurant that no one was interested in eating at.
I see him waving his finger at Jerry and saying:
"VERY BAD MAN, you very bad man..."
I don't like tests.
In fact I fail tests pretty easily.
Tests put my gut in knots.
Tests always seem to leave me feeling how dumb I was instead of how smart.
Tests were always about measuring up, always about "how good are you."
Test seemed to create an environment where one eye was on me and one on others.
Tests were about being first.
Tests were about being the best.
Tests were about me.
I got a lot of low grades in school and it made me feel like a failure, well actually I was a failure. I didn't graduate from highschool with my peers. I had to go to community college later and get my highschool diploma.
I think one of the things that impacted my life the most when Jesus revealed Himself to me, was that Jesus took the test for me.
He said I failed but He would give me His grade.
Being a poor student that sounded like a FANTASTIC DEAL!
My failures, my ignorance, my stupidity, my sin, my inability to get anything right in life didn't seem to matter with Jesus. In fact, it seemed like the more screwed up I was, them more Jesus seemed to pull me closer.
It was a mystery, it didn't fit my worldview...losers win?
Grace was a spiritual truth that wasn't a part of my life experience.
I was always getting busted, punished, left out, left behind, forgotten, abandoned.
I felt like a big fat "F."
The last thing I wanted to hear was that God was grading me!
I have spent a lot of my spiritual life trying to get an "A" to get God to like me or pat me on the back. I have wanted to be the heavenly Teachers pet. The apple of His eye by laying my little apples of good work and holy striving on His desk.
But the more I have tried to be an "A" student the more I have come to realize that I still need Jesus because I am still one who needs grace.
In fact I fail tests pretty easily.
Tests put my gut in knots.
Tests always seem to leave me feeling how dumb I was instead of how smart.
Tests were always about measuring up, always about "how good are you."
Test seemed to create an environment where one eye was on me and one on others.
Tests were about being first.
Tests were about being the best.
Tests were about me.
I got a lot of low grades in school and it made me feel like a failure, well actually I was a failure. I didn't graduate from highschool with my peers. I had to go to community college later and get my highschool diploma.
I think one of the things that impacted my life the most when Jesus revealed Himself to me, was that Jesus took the test for me.
He said I failed but He would give me His grade.
Being a poor student that sounded like a FANTASTIC DEAL!
My failures, my ignorance, my stupidity, my sin, my inability to get anything right in life didn't seem to matter with Jesus. In fact, it seemed like the more screwed up I was, them more Jesus seemed to pull me closer.
It was a mystery, it didn't fit my worldview...losers win?
Grace was a spiritual truth that wasn't a part of my life experience.
I was always getting busted, punished, left out, left behind, forgotten, abandoned.
I felt like a big fat "F."
The last thing I wanted to hear was that God was grading me!
I have spent a lot of my spiritual life trying to get an "A" to get God to like me or pat me on the back. I have wanted to be the heavenly Teachers pet. The apple of His eye by laying my little apples of good work and holy striving on His desk.
But the more I have tried to be an "A" student the more I have come to realize that I still need Jesus because I am still one who needs grace.
Monday, February 23, 2004
A short tale from inside a youth prison:
About Rayann...
The first look was skeptical, most in here are.
She sat a bit interested, working me over in her mind by the looks of it.
I shared…she stared.
She was only a day over 7 it seemed, but more likely 15, I think.
A little girl in a big world gone real bad.
I talked about stone hearts being turned to flesh again.
She seemed like something in her remembered hope but had forgotten what it felt like. I thought I heard a small voice from the grave that she was buried within.
I wandered gently towards her table after the message and prayer, testing the waters, looking for that look, the look that says talk to me, please.
She looked skittish, like a frightened cat, tough on the outside but really wanting to purr if you are patient and cautious enough.
I sat down at a table of girls, an awkward thing for a 33 year old, 240 pound, shaved headed man to do without feeling like an offender myself. The look in their eyes seemed to confirm my own apprehensions…icy, distant, leaning away like someone who is afraid of you possibly hitting them. I was nervous she would run.
We talked, well, she talked, I listened…
Drug user, repeat offender, alcoholic mother, calls older sister Mom, younger sister is four and pleaded with her to stop using, she wants to go home, not sure if dad is really dad but whatever the case he isn't around either. No Daddy, no Mommy…misses home, even though home isn't healthy. Wants to stop using but history yells louder than hope most the times.
She shared and cried.
Little tears, like the ones little girls cry when there is no one to hold them and they are afraid.
I reached out to touch her little hand, praying that the hug I wanted to give so badly but couldn't, would reach her aching heart.
She thanked me for coming and listening to her…
I'm thanking her for taking out my stone heart and giving it flesh again.
Pray for Rayann, she wants to be good, like she was before life raped her innocence and stole hope from her eyes.
She told me jail isn't "a place of healing," oh, how wrong she was.
Anytime love turns hearts to flesh is a moment of healing.
I was healed by reaching out to the ones Jesus asks me to visit.
Jesus healed me through a little girl's tears last night…
I pray a little girl will be healed by mine this morning…
About Rayann...
The first look was skeptical, most in here are.
She sat a bit interested, working me over in her mind by the looks of it.
I shared…she stared.
She was only a day over 7 it seemed, but more likely 15, I think.
A little girl in a big world gone real bad.
I talked about stone hearts being turned to flesh again.
She seemed like something in her remembered hope but had forgotten what it felt like. I thought I heard a small voice from the grave that she was buried within.
I wandered gently towards her table after the message and prayer, testing the waters, looking for that look, the look that says talk to me, please.
She looked skittish, like a frightened cat, tough on the outside but really wanting to purr if you are patient and cautious enough.
I sat down at a table of girls, an awkward thing for a 33 year old, 240 pound, shaved headed man to do without feeling like an offender myself. The look in their eyes seemed to confirm my own apprehensions…icy, distant, leaning away like someone who is afraid of you possibly hitting them. I was nervous she would run.
We talked, well, she talked, I listened…
Drug user, repeat offender, alcoholic mother, calls older sister Mom, younger sister is four and pleaded with her to stop using, she wants to go home, not sure if dad is really dad but whatever the case he isn't around either. No Daddy, no Mommy…misses home, even though home isn't healthy. Wants to stop using but history yells louder than hope most the times.
She shared and cried.
Little tears, like the ones little girls cry when there is no one to hold them and they are afraid.
I reached out to touch her little hand, praying that the hug I wanted to give so badly but couldn't, would reach her aching heart.
She thanked me for coming and listening to her…
I'm thanking her for taking out my stone heart and giving it flesh again.
Pray for Rayann, she wants to be good, like she was before life raped her innocence and stole hope from her eyes.
She told me jail isn't "a place of healing," oh, how wrong she was.
Anytime love turns hearts to flesh is a moment of healing.
I was healed by reaching out to the ones Jesus asks me to visit.
Jesus healed me through a little girl's tears last night…
I pray a little girl will be healed by mine this morning…
Saturday, February 21, 2004
Blind girl is healed!
A friend of mine just returned from a ministry trip to India, where he prayed for a blind girl and she was healed.
Didn't see and then did.
How do you respond to someone who tells you they saw a blind person healed?
I was struck by the fact that he didn't have tears in his eyes, when he shared it. He didn't shout it, jump up and down and do a jig or anything.
He just shared it with me, the two of us alone, drinking latte's, in a cool new coffee shop.
It felt surreal.
A friend of mine just returned from a ministry trip to India, where he prayed for a blind girl and she was healed.
Didn't see and then did.
How do you respond to someone who tells you they saw a blind person healed?
I was struck by the fact that he didn't have tears in his eyes, when he shared it. He didn't shout it, jump up and down and do a jig or anything.
He just shared it with me, the two of us alone, drinking latte's, in a cool new coffee shop.
It felt surreal.
When we are crushed like grapes, we cannot not think of the wine we will become.
-Henri Nouwen
Ministry disappointments and disillusionment have created an unexpected "wine" over the years. One that has enabled me to relax, enjoy and give up on trying to save the world or at least feel like it's up to me.
I can't heal people but I can love them.
And in my loving them, hope that they will heal.
Soon as you set out to "fix" things or people, you end up with more problems than you saw at the first...be forewarned.
Reformers, revolutionaries, idealists...Pandora's box is in your hands, hope you can handle it.
-Henri Nouwen
Ministry disappointments and disillusionment have created an unexpected "wine" over the years. One that has enabled me to relax, enjoy and give up on trying to save the world or at least feel like it's up to me.
I can't heal people but I can love them.
And in my loving them, hope that they will heal.
Soon as you set out to "fix" things or people, you end up with more problems than you saw at the first...be forewarned.
Reformers, revolutionaries, idealists...Pandora's box is in your hands, hope you can handle it.
This helped me understand myself better:
So, for postmoderns, clarity may be a lower value than intrigue. And this Aristotelian re-balancing means that writers ethos—their moral character that is conveyed through their rhetorical choices—is essential to earn credibility in goodness. For example, a clear, convincing, cogent, articulate, powerful argument that is perceived to be overbearing and coercive may be less persuasive than a kinder, gentler argument that leaves room for the reader to reach his or her own conclusions."
A lot of what I hear around Christian circles seems to leave no room for other conclusions. In fact, a lot of what we say seems to be a verbal stop sign more than a green light towards further dialogue.
We fire off words like verbal machine gunners bent on ending something instead of starting something.
Our "talks" are not conversations they are verbal hand grenades lobed over high walled pulpits.
Soon as our mouths open, a paralyzing green haze emerges that turns insecure souls to stone.
I think the way we preach at each other, really shows how afraid we are conversation, dialogue and debate.
The fact that we have crafted out times around a "preach" says a lot about our insecurity and desire for control, safety and lack of faith. We want predictable, definable, controllable outcomes...a sermon accomplishes that.
A conversation doesn't.
So, for postmoderns, clarity may be a lower value than intrigue. And this Aristotelian re-balancing means that writers ethos—their moral character that is conveyed through their rhetorical choices—is essential to earn credibility in goodness. For example, a clear, convincing, cogent, articulate, powerful argument that is perceived to be overbearing and coercive may be less persuasive than a kinder, gentler argument that leaves room for the reader to reach his or her own conclusions."
A lot of what I hear around Christian circles seems to leave no room for other conclusions. In fact, a lot of what we say seems to be a verbal stop sign more than a green light towards further dialogue.
We fire off words like verbal machine gunners bent on ending something instead of starting something.
Our "talks" are not conversations they are verbal hand grenades lobed over high walled pulpits.
Soon as our mouths open, a paralyzing green haze emerges that turns insecure souls to stone.
I think the way we preach at each other, really shows how afraid we are conversation, dialogue and debate.
The fact that we have crafted out times around a "preach" says a lot about our insecurity and desire for control, safety and lack of faith. We want predictable, definable, controllable outcomes...a sermon accomplishes that.
A conversation doesn't.
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Jesus isn't a cute vegetable
"Do not be surprised, brothers, if the world hates you."
-1 John 3:13
-(Written by John a friend of Jesus, one who saw Him butchered by Romans.)
I think in light of the recent cultural turmoil over Mel Gibson's "Passion" movie, this scripture rings so true.
When you strip off all the soul numbing religiosity from the simple story of the life of Jesus; you are faced with a radical person who lived a controversial life.
Jesus is more than a soft and colorful cartoon in a kids sing-a-long video.
Jesus isn't a cute vegetable.
He is more than a philosophical ideal, a set of a principles, a theory, a 3 point message or a bumper sticker catch phrase.
Jesus isn't just over the counter aspirin for the dull ache of American life.
He isn't spiritual cocaine for the over stimulated charismatic church junkie.
He isn't pink pepto for overindulgent saved sinners.
He never was mainstream religious material, an info commercial, lapel pin or a bobble head for your dashboard.
He wasn't predictable, safe or sanitized for your personal safety.
He had a lot of enemies, in fact many were infatuated, fascinated and curious at first and ended up turing on Him and became His enemies.
Jesus wasn't understood by His own family, in fact, they thought he was going overboard and might be out of his mind.
Even those around Jesus were often puzzled, confused and wondered who He really was or what He was trying to do.
Many followed Him for a while and then didn't, in fact most people who followed Him quit.
Jesus was loved desperately and hated as passionately.
Jesus didn't meet everyone's expectations, even ticked some people off and had a reputation as a liberal.
Jesus wasn't political, didn't pump hands, kiss babies or smile into cameras.
Jesus didn't write a book.
Jesus was poor and asked others to give away their money too.
Jesus walked. He wasn't in a hurry...
Jesus had a few close friends...and one really didn't like Him, in fact, he ripped Him off pretty regularly.
Jesus died a criminal with criminals.
Jesus didn't have a 401K or a life insurance policy...His friends had to buy a place to bury Him.
In the last message of Jesus, He said He would spit out anyone who lived a life of lukewarm indifference.
So what ever we say about who Jesus was...we can never say He wasn't controversial.
"Do not be surprised, brothers, if the world hates you."
-1 John 3:13
-(Written by John a friend of Jesus, one who saw Him butchered by Romans.)
I think in light of the recent cultural turmoil over Mel Gibson's "Passion" movie, this scripture rings so true.
When you strip off all the soul numbing religiosity from the simple story of the life of Jesus; you are faced with a radical person who lived a controversial life.
Jesus is more than a soft and colorful cartoon in a kids sing-a-long video.
Jesus isn't a cute vegetable.
He is more than a philosophical ideal, a set of a principles, a theory, a 3 point message or a bumper sticker catch phrase.
Jesus isn't just over the counter aspirin for the dull ache of American life.
He isn't spiritual cocaine for the over stimulated charismatic church junkie.
He isn't pink pepto for overindulgent saved sinners.
He never was mainstream religious material, an info commercial, lapel pin or a bobble head for your dashboard.
He wasn't predictable, safe or sanitized for your personal safety.
He had a lot of enemies, in fact many were infatuated, fascinated and curious at first and ended up turing on Him and became His enemies.
Jesus wasn't understood by His own family, in fact, they thought he was going overboard and might be out of his mind.
Even those around Jesus were often puzzled, confused and wondered who He really was or what He was trying to do.
Many followed Him for a while and then didn't, in fact most people who followed Him quit.
Jesus was loved desperately and hated as passionately.
Jesus didn't meet everyone's expectations, even ticked some people off and had a reputation as a liberal.
Jesus wasn't political, didn't pump hands, kiss babies or smile into cameras.
Jesus didn't write a book.
Jesus was poor and asked others to give away their money too.
Jesus walked. He wasn't in a hurry...
Jesus had a few close friends...and one really didn't like Him, in fact, he ripped Him off pretty regularly.
Jesus died a criminal with criminals.
Jesus didn't have a 401K or a life insurance policy...His friends had to buy a place to bury Him.
In the last message of Jesus, He said He would spit out anyone who lived a life of lukewarm indifference.
So what ever we say about who Jesus was...we can never say He wasn't controversial.
Monday, February 16, 2004
Things taking place right now:
*Almost completed Ratchet & Clank's new video game on PS2
*Listening to Nora Jones new CD
*Reading "Blue Like jazz" which is awesome!
*Planning for our upcoming BLAZE youth conference
*Loving a poem I found by Emily Dickison on the marrowless life
*Missing old friends
*Kinda wishing we had another baby
*Wondering where some of our youth went so wrong
*Got full custody of Alicia, ends a year of hell, what a battle that was...
*Enjoyed Valentines day, White House Grill is my fave...
*Got some new LOTR trading cards, a great game, even for a 33 year old.
*Really longing for Zion
*A lot of other stuff that if I wrote on this blog, some people would have a hissy fit and get all ticked off. So I have to find a way to express it, share it and live it without being me.
That's tough....
*Almost completed Ratchet & Clank's new video game on PS2
*Listening to Nora Jones new CD
*Reading "Blue Like jazz" which is awesome!
*Planning for our upcoming BLAZE youth conference
*Loving a poem I found by Emily Dickison on the marrowless life
*Missing old friends
*Kinda wishing we had another baby
*Wondering where some of our youth went so wrong
*Got full custody of Alicia, ends a year of hell, what a battle that was...
*Enjoyed Valentines day, White House Grill is my fave...
*Got some new LOTR trading cards, a great game, even for a 33 year old.
*Really longing for Zion
*A lot of other stuff that if I wrote on this blog, some people would have a hissy fit and get all ticked off. So I have to find a way to express it, share it and live it without being me.
That's tough....
Sunday, February 15, 2004
"If we preach the effects of redemption in human life instead of the revelation regarding Jesus, the result in those who listen is not new birth, but refined spiritual culture... We [preachers] have to see that we are in such living sympathy with God that as we proclaim His truth He can create in souls the things which He alone can do."
-Oswald Chambers
-Oswald Chambers
Wisdom lights up a person's face, softening it's hardness.
-Ecclesiastes 8:1
I am growing to understand that a lot of what I perceived as healthy fundamental chrisitian spirituality in fact was just that...christian spirituality but not Jesus life.
I want to be like Jesus but the more I think about it, the more I am realizing that there is so much that Jesus is and was, that simply just won't fit within most of the "christian" circles I interact in.
It's a troubling thing really to feel less like Jesus within the body of Jesus.
I guess I am having an "out of body" experience.
I long to soften but so much of what I encounter seems to produce the opposite of the "wisdom" that Solomon speaks of. I have found that hanging around Christians often produces a lot of things that simply are not the fruit of being around God.
Here is a few habits I've picked up:
* I've grown more and more judgmental, critical and exclusive.
* I lose a heart for the lost and become more concerned about trivial issues.
* I don't like people that much.
* I major on the minors.
* I'm tired more and fruitful less.
* I get sidetracked from first things (Wife, children, Jesus).
* I hear less and less about Jesus and more and more about me.
* I talk a lot about people and less about me.
* I get good at performing.
* I am lonely in the midst of multitudes because no one really knows me, only the person they think I am.
* I am angry more...because I can't say what I want to say. I used to be able to spout off my mouth more and now, I have to bottle it all up. There were some words in the old day that summed things up real well...now I have to strain to find new ones and really they just don't do the emotions justice!
* I feel guilty a lot.
Guilty for not caring about what a lot of people care about. Guilty for not doing more. Guilty for just trying to be me and feeling that's not good enough. Guilt that I don't know more about the Bible, not being a better husband or father, for being rich, not being more holy, not reaching more people, not being more disciplined...on and on...
I don't want to become hard.
I want to soften.
I want to learn to play again like my almost 4 year old son Micah does.
When did I forget how to play anyway?
I want to find myself singing when I am not supposed to be singing like Micah does.
I want to enjoy small stuff again like a rolled up paper sword and not have to have big stuff like playstations and big churches.
I want to have "A" best friend and not have to be everybody's best friend.
I want to ride my bike again and not have to take a car, not have to rush so much.
I want to enjoy a bug as much as Micah enjoys one.
I want to savor ice cream, really lick it slow.
I want to care what is written in bubble gum wrappers again, actually take the time to read it.
I want to turn to the comics page before the news page in the paper.
I want to start drawing again not because I feel I should but, because...well, just because!
I want to enjoy a song no matter who is singing it or what station it's on.
I want to go for walks again not for health but for fun.
I want to go exploring again, like we used too...everyday.
I want to skip school or work and do something I shouldn't because I can...I am a grown up now and I can write my own note dang it!
I want to have a face that is lit up again...that seems to happen less and less these days...
Wisdom, hummm...what a thought.
-Ecclesiastes 8:1
I am growing to understand that a lot of what I perceived as healthy fundamental chrisitian spirituality in fact was just that...christian spirituality but not Jesus life.
I want to be like Jesus but the more I think about it, the more I am realizing that there is so much that Jesus is and was, that simply just won't fit within most of the "christian" circles I interact in.
It's a troubling thing really to feel less like Jesus within the body of Jesus.
I guess I am having an "out of body" experience.
I long to soften but so much of what I encounter seems to produce the opposite of the "wisdom" that Solomon speaks of. I have found that hanging around Christians often produces a lot of things that simply are not the fruit of being around God.
Here is a few habits I've picked up:
* I've grown more and more judgmental, critical and exclusive.
* I lose a heart for the lost and become more concerned about trivial issues.
* I don't like people that much.
* I major on the minors.
* I'm tired more and fruitful less.
* I get sidetracked from first things (Wife, children, Jesus).
* I hear less and less about Jesus and more and more about me.
* I talk a lot about people and less about me.
* I get good at performing.
* I am lonely in the midst of multitudes because no one really knows me, only the person they think I am.
* I am angry more...because I can't say what I want to say. I used to be able to spout off my mouth more and now, I have to bottle it all up. There were some words in the old day that summed things up real well...now I have to strain to find new ones and really they just don't do the emotions justice!
* I feel guilty a lot.
Guilty for not caring about what a lot of people care about. Guilty for not doing more. Guilty for just trying to be me and feeling that's not good enough. Guilt that I don't know more about the Bible, not being a better husband or father, for being rich, not being more holy, not reaching more people, not being more disciplined...on and on...
I don't want to become hard.
I want to soften.
I want to learn to play again like my almost 4 year old son Micah does.
When did I forget how to play anyway?
I want to find myself singing when I am not supposed to be singing like Micah does.
I want to enjoy small stuff again like a rolled up paper sword and not have to have big stuff like playstations and big churches.
I want to have "A" best friend and not have to be everybody's best friend.
I want to ride my bike again and not have to take a car, not have to rush so much.
I want to enjoy a bug as much as Micah enjoys one.
I want to savor ice cream, really lick it slow.
I want to care what is written in bubble gum wrappers again, actually take the time to read it.
I want to turn to the comics page before the news page in the paper.
I want to start drawing again not because I feel I should but, because...well, just because!
I want to enjoy a song no matter who is singing it or what station it's on.
I want to go for walks again not for health but for fun.
I want to go exploring again, like we used too...everyday.
I want to skip school or work and do something I shouldn't because I can...I am a grown up now and I can write my own note dang it!
I want to have a face that is lit up again...that seems to happen less and less these days...
Wisdom, hummm...what a thought.
’If you have not chosen the Kingdom of God, it will make in the end no difference what you have chosen instead.’ Those are hard words to take. Will it really make no difference whether it was women or patriotism, cocaine or art, whiskey or a seat in the Cabinet money or science? Well surely no difference that matters. We shall have missed the end for which we are formed and rejected the only thing that satisfies. Does it matter to a man dying in the desert by which choice of route he missed the only well?
-C.S. Lewis The Weight of Glory January 1st, 1980
-C.S. Lewis The Weight of Glory January 1st, 1980
One simple word from Jesus to Peter on the boat...
"COME"
Defied the elements, controlled the power of gravity,
stopped the process of death
and overcame the power of every negative circumstance.
-Dr. Gary V. Whetstone
(from the book:"It only takes One")
Can these dry bones live?
I have been thinking a lot about that question.
As I stand in the midst of the brokenness of teenage lives.
Listening to young people share about their addictions to drugs and alcohol.
Looking into the eyes of a young man in Martin Hall youth detention center; whose father won't come pick him up, even though he was released 3 weeks ago because his father is ashamed of him and the crime he committed.
Watching teens delude themselves with lies about love, sex and who really cares for them.
Watching them building fantasies about the future that are constructed out of the straw of pop culture instead of the rock of God's truth.
Sitting knee deep in the bloody mess of trying to piece back together lives that have been demolished by sexual abuse and cancerous family life.
Pained by the despair of another young girl getting pregnant.
Frustrated by the shallowness, the complacency, the indifference around me.
Struggling with the darkness while wrestling with the seeming weakness of the light.
Can these bones live...
That is a question that confronts me everyday.
I would like to pretend that I meet that question with a resounding "YES" of faith.
But in reality the grinding nature of life, human frailty and sin, often seems to exhaust and blur the vision.
Can THESE dry bones live?
Not somewhere else, not some other family or ministry, not in Africa, Asia or somewhere out there but can the dry bones around me live?
Can bones that have been looooooooong dead live?
Can the stuff that barely resembles a body, come alive again?
Can the ones that have died come back to life?
Can something that is dead...live again?
I find myself in the midst of a valley of dry bones and God wants to ask such a question.
The questions of God penetrate to the heart.
They uncover the true thoughts of the soul.
They come like a bright light that unveils everything as it truly is.
What do you really think...He asks.
Face the bones.
Touch the dry & brittle remains of life.
Look at death and think about life.
Stand in the midst of hopeless situations and begin to dream again.
Look for the places that death has overcome, where darkness has slain hope,
and walk among the dead.
I've been talking to bones...
"COME"
Defied the elements, controlled the power of gravity,
stopped the process of death
and overcame the power of every negative circumstance.
-Dr. Gary V. Whetstone
(from the book:"It only takes One")
Can these dry bones live?
I have been thinking a lot about that question.
As I stand in the midst of the brokenness of teenage lives.
Listening to young people share about their addictions to drugs and alcohol.
Looking into the eyes of a young man in Martin Hall youth detention center; whose father won't come pick him up, even though he was released 3 weeks ago because his father is ashamed of him and the crime he committed.
Watching teens delude themselves with lies about love, sex and who really cares for them.
Watching them building fantasies about the future that are constructed out of the straw of pop culture instead of the rock of God's truth.
Sitting knee deep in the bloody mess of trying to piece back together lives that have been demolished by sexual abuse and cancerous family life.
Pained by the despair of another young girl getting pregnant.
Frustrated by the shallowness, the complacency, the indifference around me.
Struggling with the darkness while wrestling with the seeming weakness of the light.
Can these bones live...
That is a question that confronts me everyday.
I would like to pretend that I meet that question with a resounding "YES" of faith.
But in reality the grinding nature of life, human frailty and sin, often seems to exhaust and blur the vision.
Can THESE dry bones live?
Not somewhere else, not some other family or ministry, not in Africa, Asia or somewhere out there but can the dry bones around me live?
Can bones that have been looooooooong dead live?
Can the stuff that barely resembles a body, come alive again?
Can the ones that have died come back to life?
Can something that is dead...live again?
I find myself in the midst of a valley of dry bones and God wants to ask such a question.
The questions of God penetrate to the heart.
They uncover the true thoughts of the soul.
They come like a bright light that unveils everything as it truly is.
What do you really think...He asks.
Face the bones.
Touch the dry & brittle remains of life.
Look at death and think about life.
Stand in the midst of hopeless situations and begin to dream again.
Look for the places that death has overcome, where darkness has slain hope,
and walk among the dead.
I've been talking to bones...
Empty Bone
The Bone that has no Marrow,
What Ultimate for that?
It is not fit for Table
For Beggar or for Cat.
A Bone has obligations—
A Being has the same—
A Marrowless Assembly
Is culpabler than shame.
But how shall finished Creatures
A function fresh obtain?
Old Nicodemus' Phantom
Confronting us again!
-Emily Dickinson
Wow! This poem spoke to my heart...
I have been searching out Emily's poems lately. I almost bought a book of her poems yesterday at Barnes & Noble but decided to wait. But I found all of her poems on line at: So for now, I can read them until I hold them, and holding them is always better...
I have been preparing for our BLAZE youth conference and this year it is based on Ezekiel 37 "The valley of dry bones". I have been lingering long over the imagery of "bones". This poem added new light to why bones are dry...the marrow is all dried up. How many people are walking around with no marrow in life. All dried up, nothing pumping itheirer core.
Our services suffer from lack of bloody marrow...no juice!
God's Spirit brings back the marrow of real life, everything without the Spirit is simply dead bones, a shell of what it was.
Oh God, fill my bones!
The Bone that has no Marrow,
What Ultimate for that?
It is not fit for Table
For Beggar or for Cat.
A Bone has obligations—
A Being has the same—
A Marrowless Assembly
Is culpabler than shame.
But how shall finished Creatures
A function fresh obtain?
Old Nicodemus' Phantom
Confronting us again!
-Emily Dickinson
Wow! This poem spoke to my heart...
I have been searching out Emily's poems lately. I almost bought a book of her poems yesterday at Barnes & Noble but decided to wait. But I found all of her poems on line at: So for now, I can read them until I hold them, and holding them is always better...
I have been preparing for our BLAZE youth conference and this year it is based on Ezekiel 37 "The valley of dry bones". I have been lingering long over the imagery of "bones". This poem added new light to why bones are dry...the marrow is all dried up. How many people are walking around with no marrow in life. All dried up, nothing pumping itheirer core.
Our services suffer from lack of bloody marrow...no juice!
God's Spirit brings back the marrow of real life, everything without the Spirit is simply dead bones, a shell of what it was.
Oh God, fill my bones!
Friday, February 06, 2004
In Loving memory of Carlie Brucia
Carlie is the young 11 year old girl who was recently found murdered in Florida.
My heart breaks to live in such a world where this kind of evil lurks.
God hasten the day when our children are safe from us and the world we have created.
-Eric
"My Immortal"
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
[CHORUS:]
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
-Song by EVANESCENCE
Carlie is the young 11 year old girl who was recently found murdered in Florida.
My heart breaks to live in such a world where this kind of evil lurks.
God hasten the day when our children are safe from us and the world we have created.
-Eric
"My Immortal"
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
[CHORUS:]
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
-Song by EVANESCENCE
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
I am having an Out of Body experience
Wisdom lights up a person's face, softening it's hardness.
-Ecclesiastes 8:1
I am growing to understand that a lot of what I perceived as healthy fundamental chrisitian spirituality in fact was just that...christian spirituality but not Jesus life.
I want to be like Jesus but the more I think about it, the more I am realizing that there is so much that Jesus is and was, that simply just won't fit within most of the "christian" circles I interact in.
It's a troubling thing really to feel less like Jesus within the body of Jesus.
I guess I am having an "out of body" experience.
I long to soften but so much of what I encounter seems to produce the opposite of the "wisdom" that Solomon speaks of.
I have found that hanging around Christians often produces a lot of things that simply are not the fruit of being around God.
Here is a few habits I've picked up:
* I've grown more and more judgmental, critical and exclusive.
* I lose a heart for the lost and become more concerned about trivial issues.
* I don't like people that much.
* I major on the minors.
* I'm tired more and fruitful less.
* I get sidetracked from first things (Wife, children, Jesus).
* I hear less and less about Jesus and more and more about me.
* I talk a lot about people and less about me.
* I get good at performing.
* I am lonely in the midst of multitudes because no one really knows me, only the person they think I am.
* I am angry more...because I can't say what I want to say. I used to be able to spout off my mouth more and now, I have to bottle it all up. There were some words in the old day that summed things up real well...now I have to strain to find new ones and really they just don't do the emotions justice!
* I feel guilty a lot.
Guilty for not caring about what a lot of people care about. Guilty for not doing more. Guilty for just trying to be me and feeling that's not good enough. Guilt that I don't know more about the Bible, not being a better husband or father, for being rich, not being more holy, not reaching more people, not being more disciplined...on and on...
I don't want to become hard.
I want to soften.
I want to learn to play again like my almost 4 year old son Micah does.
When did I forget how to play anyway?
I want to find myself singing when I am not supposed to be singing like Micah does.
I want to enjoy small stuff again like a rolled up paper sword and not have to have big stuff like playstations and big churches.
I want to have "A" best friend and not have to be everybody's best friend.
I want to ride my bike again and not have to take a car, not have to rush so much.
I want to enjoy a bug as much as Micah enjoys one.
I want to savor ice cream, really like it slow.
I want to care what is written in bubble gum wrappers again, actually take the time to read it.
I want to turn to the comics page before the news page in the paper.
I want to start drawing again not because I feel I should but, because...well, just because!
I want to enjoy a song no matter who is singing it or what station it's on.
I want to go for walks again not for health but for fun.
I want to go exploring again, like we used too...everyday.
I want to skip school or work and do something I shouldn't because I can...I am a grown up now and I can write my own note dang it!
I want to have a face that is lit up again...that seems to happen less and less these days...
Wisdom, hummm...what a thought.
Wisdom lights up a person's face, softening it's hardness.
-Ecclesiastes 8:1
I am growing to understand that a lot of what I perceived as healthy fundamental chrisitian spirituality in fact was just that...christian spirituality but not Jesus life.
I want to be like Jesus but the more I think about it, the more I am realizing that there is so much that Jesus is and was, that simply just won't fit within most of the "christian" circles I interact in.
It's a troubling thing really to feel less like Jesus within the body of Jesus.
I guess I am having an "out of body" experience.
I long to soften but so much of what I encounter seems to produce the opposite of the "wisdom" that Solomon speaks of.
I have found that hanging around Christians often produces a lot of things that simply are not the fruit of being around God.
Here is a few habits I've picked up:
* I've grown more and more judgmental, critical and exclusive.
* I lose a heart for the lost and become more concerned about trivial issues.
* I don't like people that much.
* I major on the minors.
* I'm tired more and fruitful less.
* I get sidetracked from first things (Wife, children, Jesus).
* I hear less and less about Jesus and more and more about me.
* I talk a lot about people and less about me.
* I get good at performing.
* I am lonely in the midst of multitudes because no one really knows me, only the person they think I am.
* I am angry more...because I can't say what I want to say. I used to be able to spout off my mouth more and now, I have to bottle it all up. There were some words in the old day that summed things up real well...now I have to strain to find new ones and really they just don't do the emotions justice!
* I feel guilty a lot.
Guilty for not caring about what a lot of people care about. Guilty for not doing more. Guilty for just trying to be me and feeling that's not good enough. Guilt that I don't know more about the Bible, not being a better husband or father, for being rich, not being more holy, not reaching more people, not being more disciplined...on and on...
I don't want to become hard.
I want to soften.
I want to learn to play again like my almost 4 year old son Micah does.
When did I forget how to play anyway?
I want to find myself singing when I am not supposed to be singing like Micah does.
I want to enjoy small stuff again like a rolled up paper sword and not have to have big stuff like playstations and big churches.
I want to have "A" best friend and not have to be everybody's best friend.
I want to ride my bike again and not have to take a car, not have to rush so much.
I want to enjoy a bug as much as Micah enjoys one.
I want to savor ice cream, really like it slow.
I want to care what is written in bubble gum wrappers again, actually take the time to read it.
I want to turn to the comics page before the news page in the paper.
I want to start drawing again not because I feel I should but, because...well, just because!
I want to enjoy a song no matter who is singing it or what station it's on.
I want to go for walks again not for health but for fun.
I want to go exploring again, like we used too...everyday.
I want to skip school or work and do something I shouldn't because I can...I am a grown up now and I can write my own note dang it!
I want to have a face that is lit up again...that seems to happen less and less these days...
Wisdom, hummm...what a thought.
Soul creation
"If we preach the effects of redemption in human life instead of the revelation regarding Jesus, the result in those who listen is not new birth, but refined spiritual culture... We [preachers] have to see that we are in such living sympathy with God that as we proclaim His truth He can create in souls the things which He alone can do."
Oswald Chambers "Sires, We Would See Jesus" (quoted in Enrichment, Wint 2004, Vol 9, No 1, page 121)
This quote grabbed me like a hand from under the bed.
I see a lot of "refined spiritual birth" stuff going on but that seems more like dressing up a mannequin than a real life, bloody, squiggling baby being born.
We work hard at making people nice and good, and then beat them for not having a more virile life.
I can build a lot of altars but in the end I can't create the fire and I can not sustain it either.
"If we preach the effects of redemption in human life instead of the revelation regarding Jesus, the result in those who listen is not new birth, but refined spiritual culture... We [preachers] have to see that we are in such living sympathy with God that as we proclaim His truth He can create in souls the things which He alone can do."
Oswald Chambers "Sires, We Would See Jesus" (quoted in Enrichment, Wint 2004, Vol 9, No 1, page 121)
This quote grabbed me like a hand from under the bed.
I see a lot of "refined spiritual birth" stuff going on but that seems more like dressing up a mannequin than a real life, bloody, squiggling baby being born.
We work hard at making people nice and good, and then beat them for not having a more virile life.
I can build a lot of altars but in the end I can't create the fire and I can not sustain it either.
Right-Wing Rant Reconsidered
I know that superbowl post sounded like:
A right-wing, fundamentalist, fist slamming, eye popping, blowhard preacher with a fat double chin and a sweaty brow messing up a bad hair piece.
Sheesh...what can I say...I was ticked off.
After simmering down a bit, I realized a few things:
I am afraid.
I'm afraid for my daughters and my sons.
I'm afraid of the darkness that seems to be lurking in seemingly innocent places.
I'm terrified of the sin that is hiding in our blood; that seems to spurt out from us like an unexpected wound. You know, like the one you got from stepping on that nail while you were running around the yard barefoot.
I'm frustrated with living on a planet that is dying by it's own hand.
I'm tired.
Tired of being shocked by darkness.
Shocked like the man laying on a gurney gets shocked by those big paddles full of heart jolting juice.
Tired of witnessing another day of mind numbing Christianity that has about as much healing power to stop the disintegration around us as aspirin does for cancer.
I want to scream...but I feel to do so, would be like screaming underwater...a lot of drama with little result.
I know that the only way to really do anything about such raunchy displays is to start with my own heart.
That is where real change starts.
So I guess the real rant is on me.
I pray that like the angels of Ezekiel, I will have two wings that cover myself, as well as reach out and touch my neighbor and hopefully with humble longing reach up and touch Him as well...
I know that superbowl post sounded like:
A right-wing, fundamentalist, fist slamming, eye popping, blowhard preacher with a fat double chin and a sweaty brow messing up a bad hair piece.
Sheesh...what can I say...I was ticked off.
After simmering down a bit, I realized a few things:
I am afraid.
I'm afraid for my daughters and my sons.
I'm afraid of the darkness that seems to be lurking in seemingly innocent places.
I'm terrified of the sin that is hiding in our blood; that seems to spurt out from us like an unexpected wound. You know, like the one you got from stepping on that nail while you were running around the yard barefoot.
I'm frustrated with living on a planet that is dying by it's own hand.
I'm tired.
Tired of being shocked by darkness.
Shocked like the man laying on a gurney gets shocked by those big paddles full of heart jolting juice.
Tired of witnessing another day of mind numbing Christianity that has about as much healing power to stop the disintegration around us as aspirin does for cancer.
I want to scream...but I feel to do so, would be like screaming underwater...a lot of drama with little result.
I know that the only way to really do anything about such raunchy displays is to start with my own heart.
That is where real change starts.
So I guess the real rant is on me.
I pray that like the angels of Ezekiel, I will have two wings that cover myself, as well as reach out and touch my neighbor and hopefully with humble longing reach up and touch Him as well...
WARNING: EXTREME RANT COMING UP
This whole superbowl half-time thing ticked the living daylights out of me.
And we wonder why our youth rape each other at school in the bathrooms.
We wonder why our daughters are man handled, sexually assaulted, verbally pressured and teased by men in our homes, schools and work places.
Our culture is amazed that a generation has sunk to such depths of indecency, bewildered by the rude, crass and over sexualized behavior. But when you sit for 15 minutes during the MTV produced sleaze romp and watch men and women pump & hump each other like they are dogs in heat, is it any wonder?
Is it entertainment now to watch a man sexually harass a woman?
I'm disgusted by the flesh fest on the stage of the half-time.
I'm grieved that such orgyish displays pass as entertainment today.
I'm sick and tired of women prostituting their bodies for money and fame.
I'm ticked off that men see it as manly to disrespect women by treating them like a piece of meat.
I'm tired of women displaying their bodies like meat for sale or for the taking.
I am ashamed that our youth idolize such brutish behavior.
I am heart broken when I watch the glory of womanhood dragged through the lustful mud of pop culture for dollars and hype.
I am praying to God that a new generation will rise up and cast off the filthy rags of the gutter girls and sleaze studs and embrace the beauty of holiness with fiery passion.
There is a spreading plague that is sweeping into our homes, our schools and our children that is spreading death. When kids can't take a shower at school because they might be raped by their fellow same sex students what on earth is going on! (this happened in our town last week)
God give us a generation like Phinehas's who dare to drive a spiritual stake of purity through the hump & pump of their generation's cultural sex fest (Numbers 25:6-8). Someone has got to stop the plague...
I pray that your conscience was struck a sledgehammer blow yesterday. I hope you see that it's more than entertainment. I hope that you will dare to throw off the filthy rags of the immodest hormone slaves of the cultural thong throng.
God give us real men and women that will rise to the call to be a shining light in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation.
RANT OVER
This whole superbowl half-time thing ticked the living daylights out of me.
And we wonder why our youth rape each other at school in the bathrooms.
We wonder why our daughters are man handled, sexually assaulted, verbally pressured and teased by men in our homes, schools and work places.
Our culture is amazed that a generation has sunk to such depths of indecency, bewildered by the rude, crass and over sexualized behavior. But when you sit for 15 minutes during the MTV produced sleaze romp and watch men and women pump & hump each other like they are dogs in heat, is it any wonder?
Is it entertainment now to watch a man sexually harass a woman?
I'm disgusted by the flesh fest on the stage of the half-time.
I'm grieved that such orgyish displays pass as entertainment today.
I'm sick and tired of women prostituting their bodies for money and fame.
I'm ticked off that men see it as manly to disrespect women by treating them like a piece of meat.
I'm tired of women displaying their bodies like meat for sale or for the taking.
I am ashamed that our youth idolize such brutish behavior.
I am heart broken when I watch the glory of womanhood dragged through the lustful mud of pop culture for dollars and hype.
I am praying to God that a new generation will rise up and cast off the filthy rags of the gutter girls and sleaze studs and embrace the beauty of holiness with fiery passion.
There is a spreading plague that is sweeping into our homes, our schools and our children that is spreading death. When kids can't take a shower at school because they might be raped by their fellow same sex students what on earth is going on! (this happened in our town last week)
God give us a generation like Phinehas's who dare to drive a spiritual stake of purity through the hump & pump of their generation's cultural sex fest (Numbers 25:6-8). Someone has got to stop the plague...
I pray that your conscience was struck a sledgehammer blow yesterday. I hope you see that it's more than entertainment. I hope that you will dare to throw off the filthy rags of the immodest hormone slaves of the cultural thong throng.
God give us real men and women that will rise to the call to be a shining light in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation.
RANT OVER
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