Sunday, February 25, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Jesus came up
I will sing this song to you and you will shake the ground for me.
and the birds and bees and old fruit trees will spit out songs like gushing streams.
and Jesus will come up from the ground so dirty,
with worms in his hair and his hands so sturdy
To call us his magic we call him worthy
Jesus came up from the ground so dirty.
I will sing this song to you and you will stomp your feet for me
and the bears and bees and bannana tress will play kazoos and tamberines
and Jesus will dance while we drink his whine
with soldiers and theives and sword in his side.
we will be joy oh we will be right
Jesus will dance while we drink his whine...
la la la la la la la la
And Jesus will come through the ground so dirty
with worms in his hair and a hand so sturdy...
Jesus came up through the ground so dirty.
and the birds and bees and old fruit trees will spit out songs like gushing streams.
and Jesus will come up from the ground so dirty,
with worms in his hair and his hands so sturdy
To call us his magic we call him worthy
Jesus came up from the ground so dirty.
I will sing this song to you and you will stomp your feet for me
and the bears and bees and bannana tress will play kazoos and tamberines
and Jesus will dance while we drink his whine
with soldiers and theives and sword in his side.
we will be joy oh we will be right
Jesus will dance while we drink his whine...
la la la la la la la la
And Jesus will come through the ground so dirty
with worms in his hair and a hand so sturdy...
Jesus came up through the ground so dirty.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Psalm 31
I run to you, God; I run for dear life.
Don’t let me down!
Take me seriously this time!
Get down on my level and listen,
and please—no procrastination!
Your granite cave a hiding place,
your high cliff aerie a place of safety.
You’re my cave to hide in,
my cliff to climb.
Be my safe leader,
be my true mountain guide.
Free me from hidden traps;
I want to hide in you.
I’ve put my life in your hands.
You won’t drop me,
you’ll never let me down.
I hate all this silly religion,
but you, God, I trust.
I’m leaping and singing in the circle of your love;
you saw my pain,
you disarmed my tormentors,
You didn’t leave me in their clutches
but gave me room to breathe.
Be kind to me, God—
I’m in deep, deep trouble again.
I’ve cried my eyes out;
I feel hollow inside.
My life leaks away, groan by groan;
my years fade out in sighs.
My troubles have worn me out,
turned my bones to powder.
To my enemies I’m a monster;
I’m ridiculed by the neighbors.
My friends are horrified;
they cross the street to avoid me.
They want to blot me from memory,
forget me like a corpse in a grave,
discard me like a broken dish in the trash.
The street-talk gossip has me
“criminally insane”!
Behind locked doors they plot
how to ruin me for good.
Desperate, I throw myself on you:
you are my God!
Hour by hour I place my days in your hand,
safe from the hands out to get me.
Warm me, your servant, with a smile;
save me because you love me.
Don’t embarrass me by not showing up;
I’ve given you plenty of notice.
Embarrass the wicked, stand them up,
leave them stupidly shaking their heads
as they drift down to hell.
Gag those loudmouthed liars
who heckle me, your follower,
with jeers and catcalls
What a stack of blessing you have piled up
for those who worship you,
Ready and waiting for all who run to you
to escape an unkind world.
You hide them safely away
from the opposition.
As you slam the door on those oily, mocking faces,
you silence the poisonous gossip.
Blessed God!
His love is the wonder of the world.
Trapped by a siege, I panicked.
“Out of sight, out of mind,” I said.
But you heard me say it,
you heard and listened.
Love God, all you saints;
God takes care of all who stay close to him,
But he pays back in full
those arrogant enough to go it alone.
Be brave. Be strong. Don’t give up.
Expect God to get here soon.
Don’t let me down!
Take me seriously this time!
Get down on my level and listen,
and please—no procrastination!
Your granite cave a hiding place,
your high cliff aerie a place of safety.
You’re my cave to hide in,
my cliff to climb.
Be my safe leader,
be my true mountain guide.
Free me from hidden traps;
I want to hide in you.
I’ve put my life in your hands.
You won’t drop me,
you’ll never let me down.
I hate all this silly religion,
but you, God, I trust.
I’m leaping and singing in the circle of your love;
you saw my pain,
you disarmed my tormentors,
You didn’t leave me in their clutches
but gave me room to breathe.
Be kind to me, God—
I’m in deep, deep trouble again.
I’ve cried my eyes out;
I feel hollow inside.
My life leaks away, groan by groan;
my years fade out in sighs.
My troubles have worn me out,
turned my bones to powder.
To my enemies I’m a monster;
I’m ridiculed by the neighbors.
My friends are horrified;
they cross the street to avoid me.
They want to blot me from memory,
forget me like a corpse in a grave,
discard me like a broken dish in the trash.
The street-talk gossip has me
“criminally insane”!
Behind locked doors they plot
how to ruin me for good.
Desperate, I throw myself on you:
you are my God!
Hour by hour I place my days in your hand,
safe from the hands out to get me.
Warm me, your servant, with a smile;
save me because you love me.
Don’t embarrass me by not showing up;
I’ve given you plenty of notice.
Embarrass the wicked, stand them up,
leave them stupidly shaking their heads
as they drift down to hell.
Gag those loudmouthed liars
who heckle me, your follower,
with jeers and catcalls
What a stack of blessing you have piled up
for those who worship you,
Ready and waiting for all who run to you
to escape an unkind world.
You hide them safely away
from the opposition.
As you slam the door on those oily, mocking faces,
you silence the poisonous gossip.
Blessed God!
His love is the wonder of the world.
Trapped by a siege, I panicked.
“Out of sight, out of mind,” I said.
But you heard me say it,
you heard and listened.
Love God, all you saints;
God takes care of all who stay close to him,
But he pays back in full
those arrogant enough to go it alone.
Be brave. Be strong. Don’t give up.
Expect God to get here soon.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Homework! Oh Homework!
"Homework! Oh, Homework! I hate you! You stink!
I wish I could wash you away in the sink, if only a bomb would explode you to bits.
Homework! Oh, homework!You're giving me fits.
I'd rather take baths with a man-eating shark,
or wrestle a lion alone in the dark,
eat spinach and liver,
pet ten porcupines,
than tackle the homework, my teacher assigns.
Homework! Oh, homework!
you're last on my list, I simple can't see why you even exist, if you just disappeared it would tickle me pink.
Homework! Oh, homework!I hate you! You stink!"
Jack Prelutsky
This is how I am feeling about school right now. I'm ready to be done!
I wish I could wash you away in the sink, if only a bomb would explode you to bits.
Homework! Oh, homework!You're giving me fits.
I'd rather take baths with a man-eating shark,
or wrestle a lion alone in the dark,
eat spinach and liver,
pet ten porcupines,
than tackle the homework, my teacher assigns.
Homework! Oh, homework!
you're last on my list, I simple can't see why you even exist, if you just disappeared it would tickle me pink.
Homework! Oh, homework!I hate you! You stink!"
Jack Prelutsky
This is how I am feeling about school right now. I'm ready to be done!
Monday, February 12, 2007
Random Thoughts of the Day cont'd
What if there is a divine peice that plays out. What if we no longer are just physical, mental, emotional beings that are driven by impulsive beharviour?
In Amercia we continually seek out hero's to pin point in our society. Social, Ethical, even Commercial steryotypes are clinged to because there is essentially no hope. We look at these hero's as strong, courageous, beings, without fault. People who have, and are standing up for something much bigger than themselves.
But can this be true? Probably not. Each individual has the ability to do right and wrong, if it exists at the time, and each individual has the ability to situationally change. To be a hypocrit. No one is special. No one's abilities are special, unless there is a divine being. Something that has introverted itself into culture and extroverted itself in humanity. Something that has the ability to understand and to allow big things to happen.
As understood before we are all slaves to something. We are all mastered by something. In this world something controls are beings whether it be gravity itself or the caffein that drives our physical and mental observations.
The ironic thing in America is we so long for freedom that we have lost the understanding of what it truly is. We so long for freedom but when we are given it we look at it and laugh like it is an impossibility. But, if we are enslaved how can we truly ever be free.
Again it must come back to something divine. Something that is separated from humanity itself but activley intervenes on our behalf.
But will this divine being free us from our selfishness just to please it's own desire for our selves. Have we been found twisted in a game of tug-a-war, where we are the -a-?
We can only be freed by something outsound of ourselves but when does this ever truly happen, and if it does don't we find ourselves enslaved to something just as bad.
Whether it be debt, loss, pain, misunderstanding, self-pity, ignorance, heroin, racism, alchochol, bitterness, caffien, sexual identity, or even love in it's pureist form. While all these things seem good on their own when mixed with the desire and the impusion of humanity something synister occurs. We have no control over anything nor do we really have control over our own selves.
Because none of us are true heros. None of us truly can grasp the duality of being a great purist and a scathing narcisist.
But I continue to go back to this simple and yet complex question of what if? What if purity of heart can be found? What if we can touch and taste these purities?
What if?
In Amercia we continually seek out hero's to pin point in our society. Social, Ethical, even Commercial steryotypes are clinged to because there is essentially no hope. We look at these hero's as strong, courageous, beings, without fault. People who have, and are standing up for something much bigger than themselves.
But can this be true? Probably not. Each individual has the ability to do right and wrong, if it exists at the time, and each individual has the ability to situationally change. To be a hypocrit. No one is special. No one's abilities are special, unless there is a divine being. Something that has introverted itself into culture and extroverted itself in humanity. Something that has the ability to understand and to allow big things to happen.
As understood before we are all slaves to something. We are all mastered by something. In this world something controls are beings whether it be gravity itself or the caffein that drives our physical and mental observations.
The ironic thing in America is we so long for freedom that we have lost the understanding of what it truly is. We so long for freedom but when we are given it we look at it and laugh like it is an impossibility. But, if we are enslaved how can we truly ever be free.
Again it must come back to something divine. Something that is separated from humanity itself but activley intervenes on our behalf.
But will this divine being free us from our selfishness just to please it's own desire for our selves. Have we been found twisted in a game of tug-a-war, where we are the -a-?
We can only be freed by something outsound of ourselves but when does this ever truly happen, and if it does don't we find ourselves enslaved to something just as bad.
Whether it be debt, loss, pain, misunderstanding, self-pity, ignorance, heroin, racism, alchochol, bitterness, caffien, sexual identity, or even love in it's pureist form. While all these things seem good on their own when mixed with the desire and the impusion of humanity something synister occurs. We have no control over anything nor do we really have control over our own selves.
Because none of us are true heros. None of us truly can grasp the duality of being a great purist and a scathing narcisist.
But I continue to go back to this simple and yet complex question of what if? What if purity of heart can be found? What if we can touch and taste these purities?
What if?
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Light and Dark...the Contrast
So as I stated before in my earlier blog, I ink I have found a solution to black and white theology.
Well I guess it would not be considered a solution, since in the reality of theology solutions simply don't exist.
But I think that I have connected two ideas that I, personally, have never seen connected before.
When we look at Black, White, and Grey we see concrete absolutes. They can destroy each other as well as themselves through moral obstructions.
This is the way the church has been looking at the world. That is our first problem. The church needs to stop using the Black and White theology and start using the Light and Dark theology.
Light and Dark is an anology that is used throughout the Bible.
"I am the light of the world"-Jesus
"This is the message we have heard and declare to you: God is light in him there is no darkness. If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness we lie and do not live by the truth. But if we walk in the light as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his son, purifies us from all sin." 1 John 1: 5-7
So the church has been viewing the way of Jesus as a moral ideal when they should have been viewing the way of Jesus as everything. All of life.
Light is not concrete.
The interesting thing about light is that it is flexiable. It defies scientific reasoning and it is a creation that is of epic proportion.
Darkness is not concrete either.
It has the ability to change the atmosphere of a situation. Things happen in the dark that are not scene. The dark is something of a mystery to us so we tell scary stories about it, because it's easier to be frightened by it then to be educated about it.
Light can always overcome darkness. Put one singe candle in a darkened room and every space can be shown to one degree or another.
These ideas are not concrete and they are not based on the moral subjectives that used to rule and dominate our world.
We have, as a church, gone one way or the other. We have declared that we will stick to the Black and White moral theology that has worked for us in the past, or we say love all tolerate all.
God's love isn't tolerant.
We have forgotten that Light conquers Dark and that Dark has a tendencty to conquer Black White and Gray.
As a Church we need to start asking the question; what did Jesus mean when he said
"I am the light of the world"
And how do we live that out in a morally stripped and subversivley spiritual culture?
Well I guess it would not be considered a solution, since in the reality of theology solutions simply don't exist.
But I think that I have connected two ideas that I, personally, have never seen connected before.
When we look at Black, White, and Grey we see concrete absolutes. They can destroy each other as well as themselves through moral obstructions.
This is the way the church has been looking at the world. That is our first problem. The church needs to stop using the Black and White theology and start using the Light and Dark theology.
Light and Dark is an anology that is used throughout the Bible.
"I am the light of the world"-Jesus
"This is the message we have heard and declare to you: God is light in him there is no darkness. If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness we lie and do not live by the truth. But if we walk in the light as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his son, purifies us from all sin." 1 John 1: 5-7
So the church has been viewing the way of Jesus as a moral ideal when they should have been viewing the way of Jesus as everything. All of life.
Light is not concrete.
The interesting thing about light is that it is flexiable. It defies scientific reasoning and it is a creation that is of epic proportion.
Darkness is not concrete either.
It has the ability to change the atmosphere of a situation. Things happen in the dark that are not scene. The dark is something of a mystery to us so we tell scary stories about it, because it's easier to be frightened by it then to be educated about it.
Light can always overcome darkness. Put one singe candle in a darkened room and every space can be shown to one degree or another.
These ideas are not concrete and they are not based on the moral subjectives that used to rule and dominate our world.
We have, as a church, gone one way or the other. We have declared that we will stick to the Black and White moral theology that has worked for us in the past, or we say love all tolerate all.
God's love isn't tolerant.
We have forgotten that Light conquers Dark and that Dark has a tendencty to conquer Black White and Gray.
As a Church we need to start asking the question; what did Jesus mean when he said
"I am the light of the world"
And how do we live that out in a morally stripped and subversivley spiritual culture?
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Abstract versus Concrete.
Black and White.
This is how the church has dealt with issues for the last couple of centuries. Everything is either right or wrong. There is a gray but that is a dangerous place to be or as the church goers call it "lukewarm."
Except the idea of black and white don't exist in the Bible. Jesus never stands on a hill and says;
"White is and absolute and it represents good. Black is an absolute and it represents Bad. There is also gray but that is the world you live in and that is something you want to stay away from. Gray makes things complicated, so you should just stay white. Don't mix with the culture."
There is one main problem with this theological veiw point: the church has created these categories to be concrete. White is an absolute so it cannot be changed. It cannot be added to and it cannot be reconstructed. Black is the same way. We cannot change black because it is also an absolute. Since we cannot touch these absolutes we certiantley cannot obtain either of them. I cannot become white because white is already established and I cannot become black because black has already been established. So I guess if I can't be either of these things I am gray. This ultimatley makes sense because I have white(good) and black(bad) in my soul. But I cannot move from gray because it is an absolute as well.
White, Black, and Gray are all moral issues. Everything is moral in this category so everything else is left behind. If everything is black and white then your morals must be set at an early age and never change. There is no room for God to move.
The church has used this analogy for such a long time that it does not know what to do in this culture. It doesn't know whether to stick with the Black and White theology even though it won't float and it won't be recieved well, or whether it should just be "tolerate" and "love" everyone.
This is what I think is one of the biggest issues in the Amercian church is.
I also think that there is a solution to this problem but more on that later.
This is how the church has dealt with issues for the last couple of centuries. Everything is either right or wrong. There is a gray but that is a dangerous place to be or as the church goers call it "lukewarm."
Except the idea of black and white don't exist in the Bible. Jesus never stands on a hill and says;
"White is and absolute and it represents good. Black is an absolute and it represents Bad. There is also gray but that is the world you live in and that is something you want to stay away from. Gray makes things complicated, so you should just stay white. Don't mix with the culture."
There is one main problem with this theological veiw point: the church has created these categories to be concrete. White is an absolute so it cannot be changed. It cannot be added to and it cannot be reconstructed. Black is the same way. We cannot change black because it is also an absolute. Since we cannot touch these absolutes we certiantley cannot obtain either of them. I cannot become white because white is already established and I cannot become black because black has already been established. So I guess if I can't be either of these things I am gray. This ultimatley makes sense because I have white(good) and black(bad) in my soul. But I cannot move from gray because it is an absolute as well.
White, Black, and Gray are all moral issues. Everything is moral in this category so everything else is left behind. If everything is black and white then your morals must be set at an early age and never change. There is no room for God to move.
The church has used this analogy for such a long time that it does not know what to do in this culture. It doesn't know whether to stick with the Black and White theology even though it won't float and it won't be recieved well, or whether it should just be "tolerate" and "love" everyone.
This is what I think is one of the biggest issues in the Amercian church is.
I also think that there is a solution to this problem but more on that later.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Random thoughts of the day....
We enter into every situation representing something. If we lose our identities in our role as a sisiter, mother, daughter, wife we seemingly lose ourselves.
When we strip away our roles our identity still remains. When we walk into every situaiton we represent something, and that is our identity. But if we don't find our identity in our roles where do we find it or discover it?
Do we find it in the physical body? Is the essence of our identity the physical random movement that occurs? This can not be it becuase I need my mind to move.
So is the intellectual the identity that we need to discover? The capacity of our mind must stop somewhere and where it stops must be when we die. Is our intellect our identity? How can this be if many of my decisions are made by my emotions. By the pain and the love that I feel. By the undeniable passion that stirs my lust for money, food, sex, reputation. So then is our identity found in the emotional stat? Does my emotioanl lust run my life? Is this all I am: a selfish shell of inconsisties?
Where does my identity come from? My anscenstors? My hometown? My reputation? My friends? My past? My talents and abilities? My religious stature?
If my identity is found and formed by all of these outside and inside elements all of my decisions are already made. My life is doomed from the beginning because my life is a big cirlce. It is a repetitive cycle of past experiences redifing my present experiences. Nothing is new and nothing can be original. All of my thoughts are all the same but as I get older they just are fromed in a new way. Same message, different presentation. All I am is a large amount of marked experiences that mean nothing and represent nothing. I am a large waste of molecules and chemical reactions.
But what if?
That statement makes something new possible. What if I am something? What if my identity is found somewhere that is not created? Something that is not humanly innovated?
What if? Can I even ask this question? Is dreaming apart of my old recollections or is it a divine inspiration that is meant to be known and addressed. Do we reall have an identity or do we just have a reality in which souls pass by in their physical representations.
What if?
When we strip away our roles our identity still remains. When we walk into every situaiton we represent something, and that is our identity. But if we don't find our identity in our roles where do we find it or discover it?
Do we find it in the physical body? Is the essence of our identity the physical random movement that occurs? This can not be it becuase I need my mind to move.
So is the intellectual the identity that we need to discover? The capacity of our mind must stop somewhere and where it stops must be when we die. Is our intellect our identity? How can this be if many of my decisions are made by my emotions. By the pain and the love that I feel. By the undeniable passion that stirs my lust for money, food, sex, reputation. So then is our identity found in the emotional stat? Does my emotioanl lust run my life? Is this all I am: a selfish shell of inconsisties?
Where does my identity come from? My anscenstors? My hometown? My reputation? My friends? My past? My talents and abilities? My religious stature?
If my identity is found and formed by all of these outside and inside elements all of my decisions are already made. My life is doomed from the beginning because my life is a big cirlce. It is a repetitive cycle of past experiences redifing my present experiences. Nothing is new and nothing can be original. All of my thoughts are all the same but as I get older they just are fromed in a new way. Same message, different presentation. All I am is a large amount of marked experiences that mean nothing and represent nothing. I am a large waste of molecules and chemical reactions.
But what if?
That statement makes something new possible. What if I am something? What if my identity is found somewhere that is not created? Something that is not humanly innovated?
What if? Can I even ask this question? Is dreaming apart of my old recollections or is it a divine inspiration that is meant to be known and addressed. Do we reall have an identity or do we just have a reality in which souls pass by in their physical representations.
What if?
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
The "Holy" Crusades
When the mission loses it's divine mystery it becomes human tyrany.
When passion becomes fury your self gets in the way of your mission, and the bigger picture becomes a narrowed glimpse of individualism. Then you give permission to your passion to turn into a rage of words and actions. We forget empathy and compassion. We foget the holiness of the mission, and we forget the humanity partnered with the divine.
"I regret my abortion"
We become a shouter hoping that our voice gets not only heard, but also taken seriously.
We walk in a protest. A protest that allows us to yell and shout and curse the other side. The "immoral" side. We no longer use Atticus' sense of understanding and we send individuals to Hell with no regard for their actions. We take no responsibility for anyone else. As long as we can yell louder than the other party we are justified to undress the sins of someone else.
"Why abortion started
1.) Women started wearing pants in the church"
We violentley vomit disgrace on the other party and act like we are allowed to serve as a judge to all. We condemn rather that convict, we repremand rather than rebuke, we hate rather than love. We no longer see the big picture all we see is the cause. The right to be heard, the right to be right.
"Face it...abortion Kills"
Our holy motivation from the beginning gets lost in the secular realm of ideas and soon the reality sets in that we are controlling everything said and everything done. Everything gets lost in the shuffle and no one longer cares if you speak up because we no longer are making anysort of difference. We have been added to the rank of the annoying and unintelligent and we no longer are taken seriously.
There is no longer a point because no one listens. No one listens because the dark cannot attract the dark. The dark cannot make any sort of impact on the dark.
When the church starts blaming others for sin itself we have become lost and no longer understand Christ.
"Let others complain that the age is wicked; my complaint is that it is paltry; for it lacks passion. Men's thoughts are thin and flimsy like lace, they are themselves pitiable like the lacemakers. The thoughts of their hearts are too paltry to be sinful. For a worm it might be regarded as a sin to harbor such thoughts, but not for a being made in the image of God. Their lusts are dull and sluggish, their passions sleepy. they do their duty, these shopkeeping souls, but they clip the coin a trifle, like the Jews; they think that even if the Lord keeps ever so careful a set of books, they may still cheat Him a little." Either/Or, Kierkegaard
The passion that we have, cannot control us or we will be in a heap of debt and we will no longer see the plan that God has for our world and every single person in it.
When passion becomes fury your self gets in the way of your mission, and the bigger picture becomes a narrowed glimpse of individualism. Then you give permission to your passion to turn into a rage of words and actions. We forget empathy and compassion. We foget the holiness of the mission, and we forget the humanity partnered with the divine.
"I regret my abortion"
We become a shouter hoping that our voice gets not only heard, but also taken seriously.
We walk in a protest. A protest that allows us to yell and shout and curse the other side. The "immoral" side. We no longer use Atticus' sense of understanding and we send individuals to Hell with no regard for their actions. We take no responsibility for anyone else. As long as we can yell louder than the other party we are justified to undress the sins of someone else.
"Why abortion started
1.) Women started wearing pants in the church"
We violentley vomit disgrace on the other party and act like we are allowed to serve as a judge to all. We condemn rather that convict, we repremand rather than rebuke, we hate rather than love. We no longer see the big picture all we see is the cause. The right to be heard, the right to be right.
"Face it...abortion Kills"
Our holy motivation from the beginning gets lost in the secular realm of ideas and soon the reality sets in that we are controlling everything said and everything done. Everything gets lost in the shuffle and no one longer cares if you speak up because we no longer are making anysort of difference. We have been added to the rank of the annoying and unintelligent and we no longer are taken seriously.
There is no longer a point because no one listens. No one listens because the dark cannot attract the dark. The dark cannot make any sort of impact on the dark.
When the church starts blaming others for sin itself we have become lost and no longer understand Christ.
"Let others complain that the age is wicked; my complaint is that it is paltry; for it lacks passion. Men's thoughts are thin and flimsy like lace, they are themselves pitiable like the lacemakers. The thoughts of their hearts are too paltry to be sinful. For a worm it might be regarded as a sin to harbor such thoughts, but not for a being made in the image of God. Their lusts are dull and sluggish, their passions sleepy. they do their duty, these shopkeeping souls, but they clip the coin a trifle, like the Jews; they think that even if the Lord keeps ever so careful a set of books, they may still cheat Him a little." Either/Or, Kierkegaard
The passion that we have, cannot control us or we will be in a heap of debt and we will no longer see the plan that God has for our world and every single person in it.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Keroke and our adventures on Saturday Night
Jake on the phone with me, angry because we are lost....
Jake on the phone with me, excited that were coming(even though we got lost and didn't make it)
Chubby Cheeks. I didn't bring this up.
Travis and Jake singing their hearts out.
Amy, Tiffany, and I at Kareoke!
Jake on the phone with me, excited that were coming(even though we got lost and didn't make it)
Chubby Cheeks. I didn't bring this up.
Travis and Jake singing their hearts out.
Amy, Tiffany, and I at Kareoke!
Friday, January 12, 2007
Saved
Mr. Leeds: Does man kind deserve to be saved?
Cleavland Heap: What?
Mr. Leeds: Man?
Cleavland Heep:pauses... Yes
The ultimate question occurs in this simple dialogue that occurs in Lady in the Water between the main character and a side character. Cleavland's family murdered and his life has never been the same. When Cleavland meets Story, the lady in the water, his purpose becomes clear, but not until the end of his journey.
He is on a mission to save this mythical creature and in his journey this simple conversation takes place.
This question that has been on the mind of people for centuries and in a time like this is even more prevelant.
Does man kind really deserve to be saved?
On Saturday night I went with a couple of friends out on the town. Unfortunatley we got lost for a couple of hours, but we had a pretty interesting conversation in the car on the way to Denny's/on the way back to Lincoln. We had two different aspects of the spectrum. One party declared that God was ultimatley Good so why would he 'send' people to Hell. The other party was setting up the argument just simply asked this question....
"Well does man kind deserved to be saved?"
Many of us have this internal thought that Humanity has been skidded through these rough and tumble times because of God, while others believe that we have been skidded through these times because of our indignant self proclamations. We believe that we are God and so as Christians when we approach this subject we go to one extreme or the other.
We either become inclusivists or exclusivists. Many of us either try to demonstrate God primarily with the characteristics from the Old Testament. We go for the Holiness attributes rather than the relational attributes. However, this cannot be the only way that we look at God when concerning this this issued. When we look into the New Testament this subject of the after life has been skewed to fit a certian agenda by certain extreme groups(sounds quite similar to most of our Christian history).
When Jesus comes onto the scene the question again presents itself.
Does man kind deserve to be saved?
Christ enters as the superhero. An underdog individual that clearly has the stamina of a great human leader but has the divine qualities of a servant. He intellectually can step over the akwardness that is tied to the academic world and can use it with every individual He meets. He has the relational capacity to prioritize needs and can touch the reality of the human soul.
Jesus comes and saves the world.
The question still remains however,
Does Man kind deserve to be saved?
Cleavland Heap: What?
Mr. Leeds: Man?
Cleavland Heep:pauses... Yes
The ultimate question occurs in this simple dialogue that occurs in Lady in the Water between the main character and a side character. Cleavland's family murdered and his life has never been the same. When Cleavland meets Story, the lady in the water, his purpose becomes clear, but not until the end of his journey.
He is on a mission to save this mythical creature and in his journey this simple conversation takes place.
This question that has been on the mind of people for centuries and in a time like this is even more prevelant.
Does man kind really deserve to be saved?
On Saturday night I went with a couple of friends out on the town. Unfortunatley we got lost for a couple of hours, but we had a pretty interesting conversation in the car on the way to Denny's/on the way back to Lincoln. We had two different aspects of the spectrum. One party declared that God was ultimatley Good so why would he 'send' people to Hell. The other party was setting up the argument just simply asked this question....
"Well does man kind deserved to be saved?"
Many of us have this internal thought that Humanity has been skidded through these rough and tumble times because of God, while others believe that we have been skidded through these times because of our indignant self proclamations. We believe that we are God and so as Christians when we approach this subject we go to one extreme or the other.
We either become inclusivists or exclusivists. Many of us either try to demonstrate God primarily with the characteristics from the Old Testament. We go for the Holiness attributes rather than the relational attributes. However, this cannot be the only way that we look at God when concerning this this issued. When we look into the New Testament this subject of the after life has been skewed to fit a certian agenda by certain extreme groups(sounds quite similar to most of our Christian history).
When Jesus comes onto the scene the question again presents itself.
Does man kind deserve to be saved?
Christ enters as the superhero. An underdog individual that clearly has the stamina of a great human leader but has the divine qualities of a servant. He intellectually can step over the akwardness that is tied to the academic world and can use it with every individual He meets. He has the relational capacity to prioritize needs and can touch the reality of the human soul.
Jesus comes and saves the world.
The question still remains however,
Does Man kind deserve to be saved?
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Unceasing, Henri Nouwen, The Way of the Heart
"Some of the old monksof this sect went to see Abba Lucius. "The old man asked them, 'What is your manual work?' They said, 'We do not touch manual work but as the Apostle says, we pray without ceasing.' The old man asked them if they did not eat and they replied they did. So he said to them, 'When you are eating who prays for you then?'
Again he asked them if they did not sleep and they replied they did. And he said to them, 'When you are asleep, who prays for you then?'
They could not find any answer to give him. He said to them, 'Forgive me, but you do not act as you speak. I will show you how, while doing my manual work, I pray without interruption. I sit down with God, soaking my reeds and plaiting my ropes, and say, "God, have mercy on me; according to your great goodness and according to the multitude of your mercies, save me from my sins."'
So he asked them if this were not prayer and they replied it was. They he said to them, 'So when I have spent the whole day working and praying, making thirteen pieces of money more or less, I put two pieces of money outside my door and I pay for my food with the rest of the money. He who takes the two pieces of money prays for me when I am eating and when I am sleeping; so, by the grace of God, I fulfill the precept to pray without ceasing."'
This story offers a very practical answer to the question "How can I pray without ceasing while I am busy with many other things?" The answer involves the neighbor."
Again he asked them if they did not sleep and they replied they did. And he said to them, 'When you are asleep, who prays for you then?'
They could not find any answer to give him. He said to them, 'Forgive me, but you do not act as you speak. I will show you how, while doing my manual work, I pray without interruption. I sit down with God, soaking my reeds and plaiting my ropes, and say, "God, have mercy on me; according to your great goodness and according to the multitude of your mercies, save me from my sins."'
So he asked them if this were not prayer and they replied it was. They he said to them, 'So when I have spent the whole day working and praying, making thirteen pieces of money more or less, I put two pieces of money outside my door and I pay for my food with the rest of the money. He who takes the two pieces of money prays for me when I am eating and when I am sleeping; so, by the grace of God, I fulfill the precept to pray without ceasing."'
This story offers a very practical answer to the question "How can I pray without ceasing while I am busy with many other things?" The answer involves the neighbor."
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
"The Furnace of Transformation"
"In solitude I get rid of my scaffolding; no friends to talk with, no telephone calls to make, no meetings to attend, no music to entertain, no books to distract, just me--naked, vulnerable, weak, sinful, deprived, broken-nothing.
It is this nothingness that I have to face in my solitude, a nothingness so dreadful that everything in me wants to run to my friends, my work, and my distractions so that I can forget my nothingness and make myself believe that I am worth something.
But that is not all. As soon as I decide to stay in my solitude, confusing ideas, disturbing images, wild fantasies and weird associations jump about in my mind like monkeys in a banana tree. Anger and greed begin to show their ugly faces. I give long, hostile speeches to my enemies and dream lustful dreams in which I am wealthy, influential, and very attractive-or poor, ugly, and in need of immediate consolation. Thus I try again to run from the dark abyss of my nothingness and restore my false self in all it's vain glory." pg.27-28 The Way of the Heart, Henri J.M. Nouwen
It is this nothingness that I have to face in my solitude, a nothingness so dreadful that everything in me wants to run to my friends, my work, and my distractions so that I can forget my nothingness and make myself believe that I am worth something.
But that is not all. As soon as I decide to stay in my solitude, confusing ideas, disturbing images, wild fantasies and weird associations jump about in my mind like monkeys in a banana tree. Anger and greed begin to show their ugly faces. I give long, hostile speeches to my enemies and dream lustful dreams in which I am wealthy, influential, and very attractive-or poor, ugly, and in need of immediate consolation. Thus I try again to run from the dark abyss of my nothingness and restore my false self in all it's vain glory." pg.27-28 The Way of the Heart, Henri J.M. Nouwen
Thursday, December 28, 2006
The Boxing Ring
I have watched and own all of the Rocky movies, except for the new one. I have admired boxing and have always been a fan of it.
However, I wasn't aware of the strength that boxing took until I got into the ring myself. I had been taught how to fight at a very young age from my brother who beat me up and in his spare time taught me how to defend myself.
But street fighting is completley different than boxing. I stepped in the ring at age seventeen.
I had my boxing gloves on and was dapered out in red and gray basket ball shorts and a red tank top. My hair was pulled back and as I stepped into the ring my bangs flowed in my face. This boxing match was to the death, just how it was made to be in the beginning. It was an old fight reinvented into a new style. My opponent was a tall dark figure who didn't have a face but who was and unpredictable fighter. Watching the tapes of his old fights taught me nothing about his style other than that he had developed and crafted, inside and outside fighting. My opponent had a clear control of the fight but could do it as an inside fighter with a fast and close interaction. Though there were times when my opponent would become a brawler and lose all care for the rules just to beat His opponent. He was brutal and had a tendency to kill.
I had not yet really defined my skill yet in the ring and I had not really understand the game until I had my first fight. My style would soon become a combination of all and would be called 'hybrid' boxing. My style changed over time and became more and more defined as something undefined.
The atmosphere was somber and a tension was a familer taste that salavated in my sweat. There was one light in the room and that was a lamp that hung right above the ring. All you could see was the ring and even that was dimmed by the darkness that my opponent brought.
There was no one in His corner. He was completley on His own. I had my friend Joseph who had been with me from the beginning. You could say he was a divine intervention when it came to my fighting. He had the wisdom and intelligence of a seasoned fighter and was willing and ready to help me out in whatever way He could. He also was a dear friend who stuck with me through every up and down. The room was silent and every moment that had brought me to this fight flashed across my eyes. While I knew I probably wouldn't last this fight I had a sudden sense of peace and comfort about it. I knew that I was unequipped and that I was young...probably too young to be in the ring with Him, but my time had come.
The bell finally rang and we started to dance. He started on the inside- jab-jab-cross-jab. I slipped past all of the jabs and blocked against the cross punch. As I defended myself I realized that all of my senses were in hyper sensitive mode so everything I smelled, saw, tasted, and felt was ten times more vibrant.
He was so close I could smell him. He smelled like decaying flesh. Something that was so vile I wanted to cover my nose. When he got close I could see that He did have a face and I realized why you couldn't see it. It was covered by a black vinyl mask that covered everything. He was entangled under His mask. His flesh, if I can even call it that, was mangled and destroyed and His eyes were sunken in and dark.
I had gotten so caught up in his appearance and his smell that I had forgotten to block, and I suddenly felt it. I had gotten hit by a semi-truck at full speed. I stumbled back and fell to the ground while blood sputtered from my nose.
I looked down at my clothes while it poured out...'good thing I wore red today.'
I quickly got to my feet and remained calm. Early in my fighting days I would have been in a rage and let that get to me but I learned how to control my feelings.
We danced around again and as he came in to attack I started brawling. Just going pulling out long punches and long hooks It suprised Him and it seem like he was confused. He backed off but I wouldn't let him out of my sights. Then it happened.
One long punch and He was down. He stayed down there and then slowly got up. It was all just an act though and then suddenly it happened. I don't know if it was me or if He actually grew three more inches both in height and in width.
"Round One!" The announcer who was unseen yelled out and I walked to my corner discouraged and lost in this fight for my life.
However, I wasn't aware of the strength that boxing took until I got into the ring myself. I had been taught how to fight at a very young age from my brother who beat me up and in his spare time taught me how to defend myself.
But street fighting is completley different than boxing. I stepped in the ring at age seventeen.
I had my boxing gloves on and was dapered out in red and gray basket ball shorts and a red tank top. My hair was pulled back and as I stepped into the ring my bangs flowed in my face. This boxing match was to the death, just how it was made to be in the beginning. It was an old fight reinvented into a new style. My opponent was a tall dark figure who didn't have a face but who was and unpredictable fighter. Watching the tapes of his old fights taught me nothing about his style other than that he had developed and crafted, inside and outside fighting. My opponent had a clear control of the fight but could do it as an inside fighter with a fast and close interaction. Though there were times when my opponent would become a brawler and lose all care for the rules just to beat His opponent. He was brutal and had a tendency to kill.
I had not yet really defined my skill yet in the ring and I had not really understand the game until I had my first fight. My style would soon become a combination of all and would be called 'hybrid' boxing. My style changed over time and became more and more defined as something undefined.
The atmosphere was somber and a tension was a familer taste that salavated in my sweat. There was one light in the room and that was a lamp that hung right above the ring. All you could see was the ring and even that was dimmed by the darkness that my opponent brought.
There was no one in His corner. He was completley on His own. I had my friend Joseph who had been with me from the beginning. You could say he was a divine intervention when it came to my fighting. He had the wisdom and intelligence of a seasoned fighter and was willing and ready to help me out in whatever way He could. He also was a dear friend who stuck with me through every up and down. The room was silent and every moment that had brought me to this fight flashed across my eyes. While I knew I probably wouldn't last this fight I had a sudden sense of peace and comfort about it. I knew that I was unequipped and that I was young...probably too young to be in the ring with Him, but my time had come.
The bell finally rang and we started to dance. He started on the inside- jab-jab-cross-jab. I slipped past all of the jabs and blocked against the cross punch. As I defended myself I realized that all of my senses were in hyper sensitive mode so everything I smelled, saw, tasted, and felt was ten times more vibrant.
He was so close I could smell him. He smelled like decaying flesh. Something that was so vile I wanted to cover my nose. When he got close I could see that He did have a face and I realized why you couldn't see it. It was covered by a black vinyl mask that covered everything. He was entangled under His mask. His flesh, if I can even call it that, was mangled and destroyed and His eyes were sunken in and dark.
I had gotten so caught up in his appearance and his smell that I had forgotten to block, and I suddenly felt it. I had gotten hit by a semi-truck at full speed. I stumbled back and fell to the ground while blood sputtered from my nose.
I looked down at my clothes while it poured out...'good thing I wore red today.'
I quickly got to my feet and remained calm. Early in my fighting days I would have been in a rage and let that get to me but I learned how to control my feelings.
We danced around again and as he came in to attack I started brawling. Just going pulling out long punches and long hooks It suprised Him and it seem like he was confused. He backed off but I wouldn't let him out of my sights. Then it happened.
One long punch and He was down. He stayed down there and then slowly got up. It was all just an act though and then suddenly it happened. I don't know if it was me or if He actually grew three more inches both in height and in width.
"Round One!" The announcer who was unseen yelled out and I walked to my corner discouraged and lost in this fight for my life.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
The little town beneath my bed?
I often get out of the bed in the middle of the night due to my small and weak bladder. Usually I get up and turn on the light(because I get frightful in the middle of the night of things that bump around). So I turn on the light and get out of bed in a quick fashion, I head across the hall and use the facilities.
This happens quite often. Well this last night I had gotten up around four o'clock in the morning to go to the bano. When I crawled back into bed I heard a strange scraping sound like someone was moving a bed around. I also heard a women sing in an opera voice at a very high pitch.
So I have come to the conclusion that there is a small village living under my bed. A village of many people, and I think that they were having a small get together. I think that the men's voices sound like furniture movie and the women's voices sound very operetic.
They must have been having a great time because they were making quite a commotion. I hope they enjoy living under my bed. I will try and make contact and will blog about it later.
This happens quite often. Well this last night I had gotten up around four o'clock in the morning to go to the bano. When I crawled back into bed I heard a strange scraping sound like someone was moving a bed around. I also heard a women sing in an opera voice at a very high pitch.
So I have come to the conclusion that there is a small village living under my bed. A village of many people, and I think that they were having a small get together. I think that the men's voices sound like furniture movie and the women's voices sound very operetic.
They must have been having a great time because they were making quite a commotion. I hope they enjoy living under my bed. I will try and make contact and will blog about it later.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Christmas Shopping
1 pair of spends shorts...Thirty dollars2 tubes of jelly incinerated beans...2,000 dollars
3 cheesey Christmas movies...56 dollars
4 cranky people that cut you off....10x the stress
5 episodes of the real world while wrapping presents...5,000 brain cells
6 cookies...10 grams of fat
7 extended family hugs...Awkward and fun
8 Christmas strands of lights to put up...Laborious
9 penguins dancing...Mind boggling
10 phone calls...One large phone bill
11 flu shots...And then the flu
12 days until I can give my presents...Anticipation
The Story of Jesus...Priceless...And not mentioned.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
"Use your words"
Every time my neice starts to throw a tauntrum or whine about something we always tell her to use her words. Words are valuable and vital and important. Words change lives.
So I'm going to use my words, because maybe if I right it out I will feel better. Or at least I will stop telling everyone 'I'm good.'
I'm having a bad day.
First- I don't understand how a community who holds community up so highly can go along their daily business like nothing has happened. Meetings here, coffee there. Like it just happens all the time. Now granted most of this community doesn't know the old community but there are still some. It's irritating to be in a place that does not grasp the gravity of death, or at least doesn't represent it well.
Second- I'm still in the angry mourning phase. I'm really angry, angry enough to hit someone. The first question to come to mind is Why? After everything has happend and after all the life that he lived why now and why in this way?
I'm trying to use my words but the burning anger won't be captured in the uselessness of them.
Well it has come again and will continue to come and I will get angrier and angrier every time it happens.
In this moment, I'm not good, I'm not happy, I'm angry and a little sad. I know the true sadness will come much later.
But first I am angry.
So I'm going to use my words, because maybe if I right it out I will feel better. Or at least I will stop telling everyone 'I'm good.'
I'm having a bad day.
First- I don't understand how a community who holds community up so highly can go along their daily business like nothing has happened. Meetings here, coffee there. Like it just happens all the time. Now granted most of this community doesn't know the old community but there are still some. It's irritating to be in a place that does not grasp the gravity of death, or at least doesn't represent it well.
Second- I'm still in the angry mourning phase. I'm really angry, angry enough to hit someone. The first question to come to mind is Why? After everything has happend and after all the life that he lived why now and why in this way?
I'm trying to use my words but the burning anger won't be captured in the uselessness of them.
Well it has come again and will continue to come and I will get angrier and angrier every time it happens.
In this moment, I'm not good, I'm not happy, I'm angry and a little sad. I know the true sadness will come much later.
But first I am angry.
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