song of the tree...

Small things are welcome here.

Find your rest, build your nest and end your quest,

for small things are welcome here.

 

For I was small too, least among the many.

I know that between beginnings and ending…is being,

That what must grow up, must first grow down.

That greatness is born in perceived insignificance and randomness.

That a tree begins in the palm of another’s hand.

 

Come to arms extended, there is room for all.

 

Not one of you that falls to the ground, escaped my notice.

I see, I hear, I feel, I know…for I have fallen too.

 

I too had no place to lay my head…so come.

 

Let me envelope you, shelter you and shadow you.

Live in me, among me and within me.

Build in me, use me and rearrange me.

 

Become in me a symphony.

Let your song echo out of my boughs.

Chasing away night and awakening the dawn.

Let your little voices lullaby the day too.

 

Come, sparrows, come…I was small too.

 

10.9.05

Here is my recent painting just sitting on my couch. This one emerged out of this quote, in fact all the words are behind the paint...Don�t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. - Rainer Maria Rilke. 

This is a beautiful and profound film about generations. The message in it resonates so deeply within my heart. Seeing the generations come together.
But for that to happen there has to be new vision. There is a cry in the emerging generation to carry on the traditions of our tribe. To be accepted, to be taught and trained...to lead. Leadership that doesn't seek to eclipse but embody and expand the past. The blindness of elders that cannot see the answers right before them because they come in a form they are not looking for or don't fit their paradigm is tragic. They simply can't or won't see.
This picture captures fathering and the lack of it and the amazing way it happens sometimes through unlikely and forgotten people. I will use this film in fleshing out what community and discipleship looks and feels like...all the challenge, pain and joy of it.
 

Went with my buddy Spencer and saw the ScFi movie called Serenity, based on the TV series Firefly. Two thumbs up here! Great movie, clean, high action, intense with some frightening images (spooky cannibal people, a few dead withered corpses) but nothing gory).
I was quite surprised and pleased for taking a chance on a movie I knew hardly anything about.
 

Go rent this film.
What an amazing movie. Inspiring, moving, tragic and such a true picture of...the least shall be first. Small people doing great things with a little love. It will arrest you at cinematic gun point and steal all your self pity.
 

struck down but...not destroyed.

We have this treasure in earthen vessels....we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body...so death woks in us, but life in you. -2 Corinthians 4:7-12

 

It's not a pretty thing carrying around dying things. There is a lot of sorrow around death, tears, rage, conflicting emotions that sometimes erupt or submerge but always make themselves known in some way or another. Death is not lightly experienced.

 

I have been experiencing a sort of death in my inner life that has been tough. Dying to people, dying to ministry, expectations, affections, reputation and a host of other things that the Lord is requiring me to let go of.

 

Simple repentance...turning away from something or someone.

 

Such wrestling are often violent encounters with me. Things don't break their hold easily. It's often a long grapple into the night...another Jacob wrestling angels until the break of day.

 

I apologize if the sight is unbecoming but if you come to this site than you have stepped into my own personal arena and your bound to see, hear and feel the weight of the struggle.

 

Hopefully it will bear life in some.

 

 

Four Horsemen ride.

Like a shadow just out of my reach,

And a breath that I can't seem to catch.

Like the chill of something ghostly and haunting,

lurking behind a basement door.

 

A pale horse rides…

 

A deep chasm like a hungry black hole,

Bullies me with threats yet unknown but imagined.

I am being stalked by endless frights and numbing possibilities,

Cold fingers have gripped my throat,

Squeezing out my faith, their incessant murmurings

Clattering in my mind like a long loose shutter.

 

A black horse rides…

 

Thundering footsteps of fate, echo in the dark tunnel of my vision.

I am wrapped in the sweaty blankets of lightless and sleepless nights.

Their hoof beats mercilessly pound on the soil of my trembling heart.

I am a prisoner of phantoms that ride over my consciousness,

suffocating me in a dust cloud of choking phobia.

 

A white horse rides…

 

Unbalanced destinies collide in my troubled mind.

Visions of the dead fill the sky, smoke rising,

From the pyres of burning hopes and charred prayers.

I watch in disillusionment as looming specters hover over me,

hungry vultures returning after a long absence.

No more strength to drive them off,

No more sound in my dream voice…my scream voice

 

A red horse rides…

 

10.3.05

dangerous waters...

A blog can be dangerous to ones reputation, which may or may not be reality, but is merely a perception of the readers. Writing openly has a way of spilling heart blood into public waters and where there is the hint of blood, there will be sharks. Those villainous souls who love to discover a wound and without mercy will rip it open even more. They love to muzzle their razor sharp teeth into the tender flesh of sincerity and see if they can find something to feed their murderous tendencies on.

So is writing in such a vulnerable way worth it?

I think it is, even if it may be the death of us. We all suffer when we perpetuate life lived behind veils. We need prophets to live out the drama we secretly nurse in our tortured souls. We need artists to bring to light the dragons that haunt us in the recesses of our consciences. Bards to weave our longing, sorrows and dreams into melodic wine to help us gather strength to live again. Poetic oracles that can set our hearts on ablaze with coals mined from heavenly fires. I long to live life as free as Christ, even if freedom ends in death by the hands of those you sought to simply share life with.

I will end with these thoughts from another blog:

This blog is also where I am publicly examining myself and my public relationships. So contrary to earlier posts, I will be filleting myself close to the bone. Those with weak constitutions should not read. I will also be giving my personal account of events. So those who do not want to read my opinion should not read.

The title of the blog is prophetic and self-fulfilling. These are my careless thoughts. Once posted, they are never retracted. That is not to say that I post with the intention of hurling the most venomous of words at those closest to me. No. That is to say that if I think that you have done something with ulterior motives, I will call you out for it. That is to say that if I perceive events in a completely different light that you, I will say my opinion. I will not bite my words here.

So you want to ask Jesus into your heart?

And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary His mother, Behold, this Child is appointed for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and for a sign to be opposed, and a sword will pierce even your own soul--to the end that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed. -Luke 2:34-35

 

The fall and rise of many...opposition and a sword piercing your soul, not they typical Sunday morning sermon fodder is it? Not the usual neat little quote in bold on the inside of the church bulletin or on the zippy sign to the next "getaway" or "retreat."

 

Walking this path is one that will make you weep...no, that is too soft a word, one that brings memories of little old ladies dabbing their eyes with white hankies.

 

No, the prophet Simeon nailed it better...it will be like someone mercilessly shoving a double bladed sword right through your chest, ripping through your heart and plunging deep into the inner most vulnerable and life crippling part of you...your very own soul.

 

It's all about getting torn wide open to God...being naked and exposed or being laid open and bare as the writer of Hebrews puts it. It's not pretty is it?

 

You can try to paint it all up in the prettiest of melodies, you can craft deeply theological treatises and blather on and on in shallow and trite sermonizing but in the end when you are agonizing with a sword of the spirit protruding horrifically from your broken soul those words don't seem to cauterize the bloody flow.

 

God is after our hearts...little did I know that when I invited Him to come into my heart that He would be bringing a sword...

 

 

No Direction Home...

I watched the Martin Scorsese film called No Direction Home about Bob Dylan, the last two nights on PBS. I thought it was amazing. I am still trying to formulate my thoughts on the many different aspects of the film that seemed to move me deeply and I have not got there yet. But a few things that jumped out at me and grabbed me by the throat were:

 

This lyric form a live clip of him performing: It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding):

 

From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.
-Bob Dylan

 

Not busy being born, is busy dying...man that jumped on my chest like a frantic parent trying to resuscitate a drowned child.

 

I was also so moved by seeing the power of poetry in that era. Hearing and watching Dylan pour out his guts in all his unfettered rawness was so freaking inspirational to me. I was mesmerized. I also thoroughly enjoyed the portions of conversation with Joan Baez. She was sooooo...in your face in a good sense, refreshingly spunky and full of grit.

 

The whole 60's part of the film was more moving than anything I have ever seen on that part of our history for some reason. The film seemed to capture something of the idealism and unsettling upheaval for me. Maybe I simply had not seen and heard about that time through the bard's eyes.

 

It also made me long for a time when poetry might again be the combustible material it has the potential to be.

 

Oh Lord of the Flame give me Seraphim's fire on my tongue again.

 

 

LeeElla and I spent the weekend in Seattle picking up a painting and on the way home we stopped to see Julianne who runs a farm with her husband Guy Evans, above Lake Chelan, WA. This is their home, made out of rock from the tunnel that connects the town to the highway. What an oasis from the hectic world we live in. A couple hours here was like visiting Eden. I was humbled by the simplicity of life, the hospitality shown us, the abundance of fruits and vegetables and wine.

The pace and rhythm of the farm was like a splash of cold water on my dry and shriveled up soul. The joy in Julianne's face and her smile and that sparkle in her eyes evokes a lump in my throat. Her pride in their farm and its beautiful bounty was rejuvenating. I was stunned by the holiness of the experience. Being in the garden and touching the dirt and smelling the many fragrances was deeply revitalizing to my gasping spirit that has been choking in the cloud of problems that have been poisoning my inner life here in Spokane.

I am so thankful for being able to witness life as it should be lived...hard working, simple, close to nature, organic, clean and with love and joy and the companionship of animals and friends.

Do not fear O land, rejoice and be glad, for the Lord has done great things. Do not fear beasts of the field for the pastures of the wilderness have turned green, for the tree has borne its fruit, the fig tree and the vine have yielded in full.-Joel 3:21-22 

Getting a kiss from Monita.She kept kissing me on side of my face, it was tender and sweet, if a guy can say that about an animal without sounding weird.  

Just hanging out with a few of the goats, friendly little animals, they loved their cheeks scratched. It was so healing to just sit with them and give and recieve simple love. Animals are a gift from the Lord and I needed some time with them, more than I realized. The goat on top kept nibbling on what is left of my hair, I guess she thought it needed a trim. 

A view from the farm garden, overlooking Lake Chelan, WA. 

This is a small winery they are running off the farm, its called Tunnel Hill Winery.
We bought a nice bottle of red wine too.
 

Here is a shot of Sunshine Farm market, www.sunshinefarmmarket.com. Our friends Guy and Jullianne Evans run this small farm market that they have on their farm. They sell all kinds of stuff from their own farm and others from around the region. We took a two hour detour on the way home form Seattle to visit with them and stock up on good stuff. We loaded up on all kinds of fruit and vegetables, soap, oils and bread, simply delicious.
 

Sleepless in Seattle

Here is a shot from our room on the 31st floor of the Crown Plaza Hotel in Seattle. It made me weak in the knees being this high but the room view was amazing. It would of been perfect except the Asian family next door that kept singing Jessica Simpson songs and cackling like chickens on laughing gas!

LeeElla and I are off today to Seattle for two days and nights of rest and relaxation. We will be staying at this hotel thanks to a generous gift towards our mental stability. We will also be picking up the 48x72 commissioned painting called Jacobs Well. An artist friend of mine has created it at my request to help capture the vision of building a spiritual community that sees its ministry revolving around the "wells" of our city not just inside a building. He blessed us by doing it for only $500, thank you Matt, you rock! I am excited to see the finished work!
 

Here is the boy scout built cabin at the top of Liberty creek trail. You can see the rest of our hike photos at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/newgeneration/