Honey Moon

I have come to this realization over the past two years being at Lincoln. Whenever I go home and have conversations about church with some of my close friends that I grew up with or my close family I hear the same complaint.

"Well we are just looking for some deeper teaching." Or

"We just want a different style of worship"

Now I grew up with these people and my home church honed a lot of these people. Community Christian Church is where we found our home. We, being a great deal of misfits and out laws came together to form a community that could not be denied or dealt with. We were a force to be reckoned with. We understood the mission that we were living our lives for and we grasped what the cost truly was.

Our small groups were constantly filled with the people that we lived life with. Our services were compiled with the misfits and the outlaws that we knew needed something more than their old and meidocre lives.

Many of us have stayed extremley close and if one of us was in desperate need I know the others would not hesitate to show up in a minute.

But alas, high school ended. Three of my close friends got married. The rest went to college and are doing their own thing. Change happened.

So now I come home every once in a while and I see these people and we have the same old conversation. We laugh and cry about the memories and we talk about the present. And that old conversation comes up. I feel like I am constantly defending the home that I have loved for such a long time.

So after thinking about my friends and my family's pleas I have come to a slight conclusion. It doesn't involved getting married, it involves understanding the cost of being a christ follower in a place that is constantly changing.

I call it the honey moon affect.

Let me paint it for you.

So we have a church goer who has been attedning the same church for over five to ten years. This church goer found God at this church and found a true sense of community there. However, the church started growing and things started changing. This church goer saw her peers leaving for every excuse in the book.

This church goer stuck it out though. Waiting for the day when things became familer again. Finally the church goer starts complaning about the service. "The teaching isn't deep enough, the worship is to loud. It's gotten to big. No more community."

So the church goer leaves. Breaks ties with a community that has helped develop and streghthen them in Christ. The church goer goes to a different church and finds two things.

First is that they can't find a church to their liking. So they become church drop-outs, thinking that they can make it on their own, because you can be a Christian without going to church.

Or second, they find a church where there is deeper teaching. Better worship. Or smaller setting. They get involved and have a new sense of being. Two to five years later they have found themselves in the same predicament. Things have started to change or have just remained the same. Either way the church goer gets frustrated and starts complaining again.

Here's why. The church goer can go to a church that has deeper teaching or better worship and they will feel more mature. Maybe because they will start learning more Greek words. Maybe because they will get that great sensation after service. But it won't last simply because they have not connected. There is no risk in getting involved in a new church every five years. The church goer will remain tactfully detachted with looking like they are extremley involved. You don't become mature unless you start knowing Christ himself. You need to take charge of your relationship. And another thing, if you truly went to service every week and had the ability to live out the theological truths being spoken out in the next week then you are a better person than I.

The church is a body of believers that mess up. Things change, people leave. If you are not willing to invest everything into the bride that Christ loves with everything than don't attend in the first place.

Here this, I know that there are things that Community Christian Church needs to work on. They are a large community full of redeemed people. No church is perfect. However, I found God there. I have seen my closest friends not only find God but find their spouses as well. I have seen drug and sex addicted friends find God there. I know that God is active in that community and I am not willing to slander its name because I may disagree with one thing or a another.

My allegiance lies with Christ but I cannot deny when God is working in a body of believers.

I'm on to the soda shop

As you know every story starts off with once upon a time,

This one however, starts off with two roommates who had an imbittered hatred for each other.

One was drunk all the time on her laughter and her folly.

While the other was concerned with focusing all her energy on ignoring her roommates laughter and folly. Especially her random dancing and her pubesent personality.

They constantly competed. Every morning they tried to out sing each and skate each other.

Both of them would awake and slip their skates on. They would skate around their abode singing the great songs of the past while doing poiettes and leaps. This would create a great amount of rucus in which their neighbors did not truly appreciate.

After their morning romp they would go attend class and work and then come back and shout witful amphoisms until their vocal cords bled. They would them make dinner together and try to poison each other but had developed immunities to them.

Every day they tried to kill each other but every day they seemingly could not match each other's strength.

Alas these roommates became immortal in their strength and in their legendary stances.

Forever they will remain and forever they will be alive trying to defeat thier own existence.

Forever they will be roommates.

We fool ourselves into thinking that if we talk enough about a revolution than it must be alive and real.

That is unfortunately not the case.

We talk about a revolution like it's happening, yet we continue to do the same things we would normally do in our daily lives.

We are not living in a time of revolution. We are living in a time of democracy.

Faith is proven by the validity of the life that lives it out.

Figuring things out.

My Roommate just farted, which just broke a ten minute silence. My roommate responded by laughing and then I applauded her valiant performance.

I lose track of the days and have to consitency ask people around me what day it is.

My roommate and I always compete on who can turn their music on first.

Monday: That was yesterday, I got up early and did homework because I procrastinated the night before. I went to classes and then went to work. Had a conversation with a close friend that proved to be worth every word. Did homework late because I procrastinated during the day.

Tuesday: Got up at 6:45 a.m.(which is not normal) Took a shower and went to breakfast where I consumed chocolate chip pancakes. Went to class, chapel, and more class. Had a meeting with a prof. about class. Exercised, went to dinner, did homework, watched Gilmore Girls and House, Now I am discussing things with Kierkegaard.

I feel like I am more and more becoming transparent in my bloggings. Either it's because I have nothing else to write about Or because I just don't have enough time to actually write any thing profound and funny.

24 days left of school! Then I will be a Junior in college. Weird.

The Hope of the World?

"I suggested that only a "dry as dust" religion prompts a minister to extol the glories of heaven while ignoring the social conditions that cause men an earthly hell." Martin Luther King Jr. talking with ministers in Brigham Alabama.

Bill Hybels says the Church is the hope of the world, but how is the church supposed to be this if it never reaches the world in the first place.

What is the church for?

Who is the church for?

Is it to be missional to attract the seeker?

Is it to be a steaming post of Christian education and community?

Is it to be a home for the widowed, the orphans and the parents who have lost a child?

Is it to be a forum of theologians and philosophers?

Is it to be a hospitable for the sick and the crippled?

Is it to be a place of chosen economic flourishment and forced economic poverty?

Is it to be a place where laws are followed but questioned?

Is it to be a place where the social rights of a person exist and discussed?

The church is to be all these things. The question remains then; who is going to bring the hope into the world?

Why

Why in the world does it happen this way.

Right when I am happy and content with the things that are occurring in my life this pops up.(This is a lie, yes writers lie to, it's called fiction- clearly, you haven't read The Da Vinci Code yet.)

Right when I have hit the point where school seems frivolous to me I collide into this detailed plan.(This is true)

Right when I forget to hear the music I walk into a room that is full of pianos in which only one is being played. (This actually happened to me today. They were selling piano's in the chapel. I walked in and there were at least forty pianos in the front room but only one was being played at the time. This sentence isn't just some poetic sentence used for the pulling of the heart strings.)

It's like that one piano is letting every other piano know that it is here for that specific reason.

Or it's like a coffee mug. If you fill it with pens, or tea it is not happy because it is not truly fulfilling its purpose. The only time it truly is happy is when it is full of coffee.(I have a coffee mug that is on my desk with pens in it.)

If you want to label an inanimate object with the emotional capacity for baggage.

I could use metaphor after metaphor but it wouldn't matter because real life is more existent(I spelled this word wrong when I first wrote it.)

Sometimes I worry about the people who are always laughing, because they must get tired of hearing themselves all the time.

The decision needs to be made the question is who makes it. Some say the individual will doesn't seem to be a real commodity in the economic status of Grace while others invest all their money in it. (People are obsessed with money. Oh wait is that me?)

The pro and con list has been made.(Yes I get some of my guidance from the show Friends.) The conversations are happening, but what if I don't do it. What if I don't go through with it. What if I rebel and run and do something else. I guess some would say I was a waste of something. Whether it be a gift or a just simply a lifestyle. But would I be miserable. Miserable in knowing that I could have done something else. Miserable and stuck.

But what if I do. What if it happens and I live but I'm miserable. Miserable in my thought process and miserable because I am surrounded by the masses who laugh at every thought and listen to every note without hesitation.

Am I the piano being played or am I just one of the pianos watching with a sadness.(Pianos are inanimate objects, they can't feel anything)

"What if everything in the world were a misunderstanding, what if laughter were really tears?" E/O Soren Kierkegaard (Don't take that quote seriously I pulled it out of context.)

Sometimes self disclosure is not only dangerous it is self-contradictory.

Irregular

Thursday day: met with a prof. who might give a cool opportunity for the next seven years. Took a Greek test, went and saw God move in IDS through PowerPoint and listened to old English.

Thursday night: Watched three episodes of House. Discussed the identity of Satan. Came up with a pro and con list.

Friday: Woke up and went to work. Gave a military man a tour of our school and ever time we entered a building he took his beret off. Got two free Starbucks drinks.

Friday night: Went to Bloomington where a small little Indian girl followed friends out of a store. Roommate was concerned so she did what any Indiana bred girl would do, she talked to the nearest police man. Only problem is this little girl didn't speak English. A nice women came up and started talking to her in Hindi. Mystery solved. Unless the women kidnapped her, then all helped in abating a criminal. Roommate just discussed that the child should have come to Lincoln.

Watched Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and discovered that the best movie line should always be the last.

Learned that when the plan that you really think is going to happen, happens, suddenly doubts become more prevalent. Frustrating.

God Hates Fags?

So I was talking to my good friend today about the Virginia Tech shootings and I guess her friend went there. So she was looking at some of the things that people have been saying on facebook and she noticed that westboro baptist church had commented.

The westboro baptist church and I have some history. Meaning I wrote them a letter once and disagreed with them. So I visited there website today once again and found the same stuff that was on there the last time I visited. If you don't know what they are about then I will breifly discuss it here.

Westboro is known as the church who declares that God hates fags. They believe that God hates fags and since we, as America, are allowing this appalling relationship to happen that is the reason that we are losing the war. So they go to military funerals and picket. It's the wierdest theology that I have ever encountered and it's wrong. They take scripture out of context and they are incorrect in there preaching.

I knew this and for curiousity's sake I looked up if any one agreed with me on facebook. Apparantly there are a lot of groups that don't feel like Westboro is doing America justice. I looked at some of the things written in these groups and they were declaring that we should kill and bomb the Westboro Church. That we should teach them some sort of lesson. Basically that we should use violence to kill there prejudice.

So lets bomb the church, and lets kill the main leader. This will work right? No, this won't for a couple of reasons. First, the church will feel like they are still in the right because they will have gotten persecuted for their beliefs. Man, would they have a field day with that. Secondly they will still keep their perverted theology. Violence won't change anything except give them some fuel to be the victem.

Violence cannot be the answer because it takes away their value as humans. This is the truth. Another thing that is true is that they are incorrectly exegeting the text. This can be shown and can be truly lived out in full form.

I have a tatoo on my arm that says Love Recklessly. That is what we need to do. If we are going to get rid of this pest we need to send some strong leaders into that community to have some conversations and to show the love of Christ to these people.

It needs to be strategic enough to work. It needs to be wise enough to be covered in prayer. It needs to be clever enough be apparant.

Who is willing to go into a place that is unhealthy and to reform it?

An itch

It's that itch you get when you have stayed in one place to long.

That itch that usually starts off on the leg or on the arm and then spreads unto the whole body. You can scratch and scratch but you can never actually become satisfied. Actually scratching just makes it worse. Simply because when you start scratching it then spreads which causes you to scratch more. Then you get into a routine of scratching and you scratch without notice. This then leads to your skin being scratched off, but you will take no notice. Then you will scratch off all of your veins, but, because it's routine, you will not even flinch. Finally you will scratch off all of your arteries, and your major organs. Nothing will stop you because you will have just gotten into a routine.

This itch will remain and the more you scratch the deeper it will get. You can try to relieve yourself with lotions and oils but it won't help, because your itch will sink beneath your skin.

The way to get rid of an itch like this is to find out what is causing this itch. When you find the cause then you will find the cure. For some the cause is their desire for money and pleasure. For others it is a great adventure. For the rest it is direct personal happiness.

The cause to my itch is not complex.

Freedom.

That is all that I truly desire. To shatter the old mold that has imprisoned me for such a time, and to live a new born life. A life that is not concerned with such rules and regulations but a life that is artlessly formed by the first breath.

I want to fly away and breath.

Like a concrete angel reaching up for something that she will never fully grasp.

A mediocre writer, writing about a mediocre life.

Tasting the Darkness

Tasting the Darkness...

It's like a hand reaching down into the depths of my throat and tearing out the ability to speak His name.

You know it's happening when you are lying in bed and all you can think about is the destruction and the despair that surrounds you.

It's like screaming until your vocal cords bleed, in a deaf crowd.

The night is not the worst part, it's the moments that come right before it and right after it. The moments when the goose bumps don't come. The moments that are completely silent. The moments when walking across your room to get to the door leaves you as vulnerable as a new born baby.

Tasting the Darkness...

It's when you know that the blood that was spilt was not in vain.

It's like having no emotions in a state when one should have all of the emotions in the world.

Those who have truly experienced it choose to remain silent because to explain the actualities of the events seems utterly unrealistic. Those who have truly experienced it do not have words for such an unrealistic event.

It's like trying to explain the worst moment of your life in the third dimension. Most of us can only experience events in the first dimension because our emotions get the best of us, but when the emotions are removed the third dimension becomes clear.

Those who have experienced have and underlying challenge to cope with it in their daily lives. These individuals have a knowledge of the safe places and the unsafe places and know that it will never stop.

Tasting the darkness presents the idea that there is no hope. Nothing can save us from the invisible ideas that are haunting every one of us.

This is seen in every conversation, in every song, in every single moment.

Tasting the darkness is not terrifying but it is sad. Sorrow and Grief are the syamese children that are seen waltzing around the darkened ball room.

These children waltz around with a slight smirk on their faces because they have brought to you a sense of utter despair. The scene of you in pain brings them a slight satisfaction.

And when you encounter these twins yourself all you want to do is bleed so you can feel the pain that you have no control over.

While tasting the darkness can leave us endangered, tasting the light brings us the hope that is distinguished.

Tasting the light is like receiving a bolt of lightning go through your body. It is a sensation that leaves one in absolute silence for a moment but allows them to shout about what has been done and felt shortly after.

After one has tasted the light one clings to it like it is the last thing on the earth. Nothing else matters, nothing else can take it away.

The light becomes something that you beg for. Your spirit becomes poor and begs for the light like a homeless outcast.

Tasting the darkness will wound you but tasting the light with heal you.

Tasting the darkness will tear your foundation down but tasting the light will build it back up.

Tasting the darkness with lie to you but tasting the light with tell you the truth.

Tasting the darkness with cripple you but tasting the light will push you to run.

Tasting the darkness will pervert you but tasting the light will purify you.

Tasting the darkness will imprison you but tasting the light will set you free.

Tasting the darkness will put a sign around your neck saying you are worthless but tasting the light will put a sign on your neck saying that you are a great prince or princess.

Tasting the darkness will suck the life out of your lungs but tasting the light will breath life into your lungs.

Tasting the Light....

Easter Sunday

"We are Easter people living in a Good Friday world."

-Dave Ferguson

Where did Easter Go?

I am a land mine in a world of deaf paraplegics.

Things I like.

I like wearing Cubs hats and attending Cubs games.

I like a well done movie that gets me thinking.

I like dressing up and wearing nice jewelry.


I like the combination of ketchup and mustard.

I like community bathrooms.

I like pink toilet paper.

I like early alternative 90's rock and roll.

I like two pillows.

I like walking bare foot.

I like reading philosophy journals.

I like day light.

I like a completley dark room for movie watching.

I like socks.

I like eating weird stuff.

I like mixing popcorn and m&m's.

I like smiling at people that normally don't get smiled at.

I like fireworks.

I like fairytales.

I like the way the sky looks like over the country.

I like going to things on thier openeing day.

I like swivel chairs.

I like listening to people's conversations.

I like discussing things that I don't understand.

I like when two voices come together in perfect harmony.

I like when my dad plays piano.

I like it when it rains and I am wearing my cottin skirt.

I like puddles.

I like pudding.

I like to swoosh jelly in my cheeks before I swallow it.

I like making people laugh.

I like being clumsly.

I like doing things unconventionally through the conventional.


I like taking good pictures.

I like hugging my mom.

I like hearing my neice laugh.

I like playing nintendo with my sister.

These are just a few things that I like about my life. What are some things that you like?

The Divine

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 was murdered and his life was never the same. When Cleavland meets Story, the lady in the water, his purpose becomes clear, but not until the end of the story.

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 prevalent.Does man kind really deserve to be saved?"Well does man kind deserved to be saved? This seems to be the ultimate question that historians, philosophers, and theologians have been trying to answer for as long as historians, philosophers and theologians have been around. Any one can see that the world is not perfect.

I would normally write that the world is imperfect but that would assume that the world was perfect when it was first created.

So to define this idea of perfection one must first start at the beginning. The creation of the world and humanity must be discussed before one can discuss the state in which the world and humanity finds itself. If you have been apart of the public school system in America you would have been at an advantage because you have been introduced to two kinds of solutions to the start of the world.

There is a maraud of options when coming to the beginning of the world. While I could disengage you by taking you through all of these options I will choose not to and focus primarily on what I find indubitably important. And in my case there are only two major ideas behind the creation of the world. Now there are many options behind those two ideas in which I encourage all to delve into but today I will present two and only two. For if I presented more than two you would think that the point of this work would be simply to inform you on the way the earth was made.

However, it is not, because I could not truly inform you on how the world was made since I was not there. Although if I was there I still probably wouldn’t tell you how it was made because you wouldn’t believe me and then you would label me insane and you would throw me away somewhere. So either way I will not inform you on how the world was made I will introduce two options.

The first simply being Evolution and the second simply being Creation. Now please do not take me as a simple minded creature just because I am suggesting two options to the making of our world. I suggest only two because if I suggested more you would get bored and again I would lose myself in those reading this only for arguments sake.

We have these two options of the making of the world. One that is simply erotic and random and one that has structure and development. One that is made from molecular combustion and one that was creatively planned out and put together by a Divine.

Evolution, being the substance of constant change. Every gene has been morphed to create a more complex gene. However this idea is not about time, its about the shared ancestor that we are uniquely connected with. This ancestor gave the commonality of life to us through the uncommon. This option gives us a scientifically driven idea based on short leaps of belief and faith. This theory has holes, hence the fact that it is not a fact. While Evolution is a viable option to the creation of the earth and to human kind it is not the only one. However, when humans start displaying superhuman powers I may lean towards this option more than the other.

The second option of course is Creation. This option introduces three characters and a scene. The first character being the divine- A God/gods of some sort. The second character being the creating of creation itself. And the third generally being the human aspect of the created idea. This human aspect is often created in a unique way apart from the rest of creation giving reason to believe that humans are worth more.

This creation is then lived upon and usually the God/gods and the humans make a deal, or a bargain concerning their relationship and creation itself. In the Egyptian realm the humans were there to serve the gods and to take care of them. This is a running theme throughout the creation story. The idea that humans were created to serve and care for the God/gods themselves.

Another reason why humans were created was to occupy the earth. The God/gods did not want to work the earth and take care of it so the humans were created to take care of the earth while the God/gods stayed away and played in idleness.

The last reason is that the God/gods created humanity to love and care for the earth and to be loved and cared for by the God/gods themselves. This is often found in the Judeo-Christian world view and is found to be quite a popular selection in our culture. However, many people would so much rather go with the first option of how the world was made 45%1 of Americans claim to be born again, which means 45% of Americans claim to believe in this idea of Creation. Also 21%2 of Americans are Catholic which holds this view of creation as well. Which means that 66% of Americans are Creationists by generalizing default. This doesn’t include the Jewish stats and the Muslim stats in America which I’m sure if we took a tally we would find a large percentage of Creationists by generalization. I therefore, apologize for any generalizations that have been made but lets be bluntly honest, our world is made up of generalizations, so I don’t feel that bad.

If we are going to look at this existence between the God/gods and humans we must come to a self realization along with a societal realization. Somewhere, some how, some one messed up. I say this purely for the moral and ethical reasons that are presented by the reality of this ‘imperfect’ world. The reason that our culture can reject this idea is because we consider law and morality to be the same thing. Unfortunately we would be quite wrong in the world we live in now. We live in an amoral world, so all of our laws are primarliy arbituary sociol laws. They are laws that are simply made to keep order. The first couple of areas we must investigate are the ones that are so recognizable that they have faded into the background.

Bad and Good.

The simplicity of these two words can be summed up in a child. "You want to be a good little girl right?" This statement has echoed our lives and we have been entrapped with being "good." Good and bad has been taught to us at and early age. It’s a way to categorize things. When I taste warm apple pie combined with the creamy sensation of vanilla ice cream I declare it good. When I put a raisin in my mouth or a white castle slider, I declare it bad. While these are simple illustrations that is what children are taught. Hence the stereotype of the physical. Good and Bad is strictly a physical guideline to life and does not encounter the internal being at all. I grew up thinking bullies were bad so I separated myself from them declaring myself good. I grew up thinking homelessness was bad. So I separated myself from that and declared myself good. This mind set carried me through my child hood and haunted my young adult hood. These ideas of good and bad cannot truly exist in this way simply because they are absolutes. Another way to put it is to paint a picture on a big canvas. Paint one side white, and paint the other side black. When declaring this kind of absolute we have forgotten that when we declare it we realize that black and white then cannot affect each other.

Black is on one side of the painting while White is on the other side. This is not true in real life. I guess you could separate yourself from the "bad" people but really who declares you "good"? Do you believe that you have obtained morality in it’s truest form because you can recognize the bad and stay away from it. I must tell you at once you have found yourself in the good and bad realm of thinking and this kind of thinking is non-existent in real life.

You cannot separate yourself from something else because you are not absolute. You are not a concrete idea. You are a person that has the ability to do good and bad. To love and to hate. To see and to be blinded. To give life and to blatantly murder. Good and Bad are too concrete and to ideal to truly live out anyway. No one can truly be good unless they are absolute and no one can actually be absolute unless they are pure and not one can be pure unless they are divine.

Good and Bad are no longer contestants in the Beauty pageant of the moral.
So then we must conclude that to obtain the absolute life one must never adhere and shape their lives around the Good and Bad simply because they don’t truly exist.


Right and Wrong.

Once again another absolute. Except right and wrong are not as clear as good and bad simply because right and wrong become situational absolutes. They still are defined by great lines and rules except they are on a broader scope. If we have ever been in a situation of ratting out a friend we must come to the realization that Good and bad are clearly cut off from truly right and wrong. What is the right thing to do? This is the statement that we continue to ask ourselves.
This comes to every young person in that situation. That moment when the marijuana gets passed around, that moment when the vodka gets passed, that moment when they come into line with their consciousness. While Good and Bad was concerned with only the physical reality Right and Wrong bring the consciousness into the picture.

The consciousness and the being itself start dialoguing and a new world is created. The lines then become drawn between the physical being and the internal consciousness itself. However many times the physical being wins the debate and gives into the physical desire. This is looked at by many as the flesh and soul struggle. The reality that the flesh then wins out and takes part in the earthly pleasures of the world. Catholics always seem to have a hard time with this struggle.

While the painting in Bad and Good is black and white on two different sides the painting in the Right and Wrong would look like a splotch of white and dark all over the painting. The good and bad obviously play into the presupposition of the right and wrong. Hence the continuos paint of black and white except the absolutes aren’t concretely defined. The only thing that is absolute is the painting itself. As long as this painting is still in existence then the absolute is still in existence. This kind of thinking creates the being itself to adopt the idea that they are the divine. They have control over what they do and what happens.

Morality then doesn’t exist if the being itself, is the divine because this means that the being has never been not created.

Right and Wrong also get knocked out of the pageant of morality because if the being makes these boundaries themselves morality is not needed.

Ivy Walker: When we are married, will you dance with me? I find dancing very agreeable. Why can you not say what is in your head?

Lucius Hunt: Why can you not stop saying what is in yours?

Why must you lead, when I want to lead?

If I want to dance I will ask you to dance. If I want to speak I will open my mouth and speak. Everyone is forever plaguing me to speak further.

Why? What good is it to tell you you are in my every thought from the time I wake?

What good can come from my saying that I sometimes cannot think clearly or do my work properly?

What gain can rise of my telling you the only time I feel fear as others do is when I think of you in harm?

That is why I am on this porch, Ivy Walker. I fear for your safety before all others. And yes, I will dance with you on our wedding night.

Scream

The screaming girl came out today. When I took math in highschool I developed a girl in my mind that screamed throughout the whole class so I wouldn't have to listen. Partly because I didn't understand it and partly because I was bored out of my mind.

That girl hasn't come out since my senior Algebra class but tonight she came out in full form.

I was sitting in my night class and every week two students lead the discussion. I wasn't really in the mood to attend class tonight and so I lasted about an hour and then the screaming started happening.

After the screaming girl appeard the space right above my professors head tore open and a lion jumped out onto one of the table's in the room. He suddenly roared and one of the wall's split in half. No one in the room seemed to notice this lion or that the wall had split in half. Then suddenly the lion went up to one of the students in the room and bit into his chest. He tore out his heart and the student continue to talk while his chest was bleeding. The lion ate the heart and then there was a sinkhole that formed in the floor. Suddenly penguins jumped out and started waddling all around the classroom. Pooping on people's notebooks and jumping up and down on their laps. This seemed untterly absurd until the little dwarf men who once were employed by the shoemaker, opened the door and declared war on all of the shoes the room.

At that point the tongues in everyone's shoes started spitting and drowning these little men.

This sudden uproar did not stir the other students in the room as they continued to talk about language, and the existence of doubt, and why Kierkegaard was so smart. They just talked and talked and the girl in my head screamed, and the penguins pooped, and the lion continued to stalk around the room, and the shoemaking men attacked the shoes and the shoes attacked back.

Then the class ended. I got up and everything seemed to go back to the way that everyone else sees it.

Divine Revelation; a Slinky, Some Mud, and a Climbing tree

"Carry the slinky around for next 48 hours, it will be your physical representation of Jesus. Don't over apply this, just bring it around everywhere you go and see what happens."

I sat on the other end of this phone conversation humored by this idea as well as utterley shocked.

"So, I'm supposed to carry this slinky around to every class?" I asked, thinking that my spiritual guide would rethink this absurd assignment and give me a more practical one.

"Yep."

I laughed but the next morning I got up for class and took this slinky with me. I put it in my pocket and it akwardly stuck out. I tried to hide it throughout my whole class, ashamed, that a 19 year old had brought a toy to class. After the day went on though I really considered it to be a representation of Jesus. No I am not a idol worshipper, but when I was holding it in my hand and having a conversation I weighed my words more carefully, when I forgot it(which I did three times) the significance of it weighed more deeply in my soul. When I was in public and I was holding it and got wierd looks I thought differently about the situaiton.

And then I headed out for a Preacher's Retreat and left my slinky behind. The whole weekend my professor taught about silence, solitude, and the significance of listening. He gave us ample time on Saturday morning to go out and explore the camp while remaining open in hearing what God was about to say to us.

I ended up going down to a bench that was on the edge of the pond. I walked over to the area and sunk in mud. I got mud all over the bottom of my jeans and my shoes. I couldn't concentrated because my feet had sunk into the ground.

"Lord speak I am listening," but I wasn't because I was too distracted by the mud. So I got up and walked a little to a field. I sat down in the middle of the field and tried to position myslef in a way where I wouldn't get any mud on any more of my clothes. No such luck. I got it everywhere and when I got up I felt more mud sink in on my backside.

Frustrated I walked some more and tried to quiet my mind. As I was walking down a road I noticed a split tree. It was so big that it was cut in quarters and some of it was cut down for fire wood. I had an urgency to climb it. I found a spot for my legs to hang and for my back to rest on and sat there and tried to listen.

"I am the vine; you are the branches" That verse kept repeating itself and I couldn't get away from it so I opened my Bible to John 15 and started reading. I read it multiple times and kept returning to 15:5

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me, and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."

God revealed the idea of true dependecny to me in that tree. I can do nothing without Christ. This is not just a ministry application, but a life application. I can't breath without Christ. I cannot sleep without Christ, I cannot get up in the morning without Christ.

God seemed to rip my pride down in one single whoosh and spend Saturday morning spending time with me and teaching me what he has been trying to teach me all year.

I am the vine; you are the branches.

A slinky, some mud, and a simple climbing tree are things God chose to use to teach me a ground breaking and life changing message.

Fear

"What's Happening! I thought I was going to be safe?" Cleavland- The Lady in the Water

We are not Safe until we realize this and cling to God, that, and only that, can bring us a sense of security, and even then we look absurd.

Lasting Conversation.

Dear Best Friend,

Earlier this week we had a short conversation about the rich young ruler and his inability to fully grasp what it looks like to follow Christ, because of his wealth. We, however, did not discuss fully this idea so I am writing you a short entry to enrich the possibility of my side of the discussion.

I do this by introducing two ideas; infinite resignation and faith. Both of these ideas I stole from Kierkegaard, but I know that these ideas apply to the story of the rich young ruler. Before I can discuss the story using these ideas I must first define them. Infinite resignation is the decision of following God. It is this negative religious experience that cleans house of all of your idols. This experience is negative because it is uncomfortable and transforms your life through the traditions that are held by the religion. When making this step one learns to renounce these 'worldly' things and even your life. This is the simplistic definition of infinite resignation. However, renouncing your 'worldly' things or even your life is not faith. Faith is the positive step that occurs when the leap of faith is involved. Faith is the life of the absurd. Faith is the continuous prolonged decision to take a leap into the unknown. Into the world of the transcendent. Faith is not a one time decision but is the constant absurdity of knowing that the only thing that can pull you through the absurdity is God himself. While Infinite resignation is vital to the walk of Christ because it causes us to renounce the World, Faith is not the essence of renouncing anything.

So when one looks at Mark 10 the question is not whether the rich man could grasp infinite resignation. Clearly he understood that fully from the first part of the dialogue between him and Jesus. However, that does not mean he grasped the faith of Jesus. This has nothing to do with the renouncing of his wealth but has everything to do with the radical absurdity of life itself which could only truly grasped in his situation by selling all of his things.

However, if the man went and sold all of his things and then gave everything to the poor only in infinite resignation he still would not grasp or understand what faith is. And he would have been blinded by his own deeds. That is why I declare that it is a theology issue.

The man himself looks at infinite resignation as the key to grasping eternal life, but clearly makes his sentiment clear by telling him to take a leap of faith by selling all of his things. But even if he did sell all of his things faith still would not have be fully grasped because faith in turn is a life long process.

This man cannot see that faith and eternity are at all connected because he walks away dismayed. But Jesus makes the connection in the end of this pricope. In the verses of 29-31. These verses bring back the idea that faith, or the absurd life, is clearly connected with the loss of true life.

So while you are correct about giving up something, I think the wealth is not the main point of the gospel. I also don't think that by giving up something you are actually grappling with faith itself. You are simply in the infinite resignation realm of life.

I would thoroughly enjoy continuing this conversation.

yours truly,

best friend.

Sitting

It was a hard day's work for Lincoln, as any day would be. He arrived home later than usual to find his son curled up, on a pillow in the corner. He found the mail on the dinning room table and noticed a card from his older sister, Kerry, who had been away on holiday.

Must be nice to go on holiday, Lincoln thought, as he tossed away the letter. He knew what it would say, because he received so many of the same letters. So he just threw it away along with all of the old memories that he had of her. She didn't interest him as she once did.

When they were kids, Kerry fascinated Lincoln with all of her know-how and how-do's. Even when they entered into their adolescence there was an intriguing quality about her. She seemed to carry herself well and could charm any one who walked into the room.

As they got older and entered into adulthood Kerry became the successful one in the family and left Lincoln behind. He wasn't necessarily bitter, he was just was tired. Tired of her meaningless chatter, tired of getting up at the same old timee, and going to work at the same old job, and eating the same old thing for lunch, and listening to the same old boss chatter away about his new SUV, and he was tired of her. Tired of the fact that while she was off 'saving the world' he was stuck mopping up the vomit after frat parties at the local university.

Lincoln grabbed a beer and headed over to his three year old son who was cuddled up against his favorite pillow. He picked him up slowly with one arm and set him against his chest while he flipped on the ten o'clock news.

Another robbery, another murder, another scandal, another celebrity mis-hap.

He flipped off the news in disgust and discouragement and felt a constant urge to put his son in his bed. After Lincoln did he walked back into the kitchen to fix himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

He sat down when he heard his front door open. The door closed slowly and without a sound Kerry walked in with blood all over her hands. She sat down and Lincoln looked at her calmly as he finished his sandwich.

He waited. Ten minutes seemed like 10 hours but he waited.

"I'm in some trouble" Kerry hesitantly stated, as she sunk into her chair.

"Yea, what do you need?" While Lincoln had never faced this kind of trouble in his own family his best friend growing up was always in trouble, and he learned that you could get anything done in America for a price.

The World is at my fingertips.

That statment is so idealistic.

I am a cynic. As you know, and if you know me well, you would soon realize that my cynicism primarily comes from my father's side.

However, my intellect comes from my mother's side, so I am at least intellectually cynical, which in most cases is the only kind you can truly be. If you are inheriently cynical but only are cynical about silly things then you are just babbling like a spring brook and have no possibility of making a complete sentence.

Although, there are some silly cynics who drive there silly opinions around so often that there are track marks on the side of your face because you have heard the same thing over and over.

Now lets be real honest here. The only true cynics are the ones who have studied until they are lost in their own study. Those who are so passionate about their study that they get seemingly lost in thier passion and suddenley become cynical. Partly because they percieve others around them to be stupid and partly because they percieve themselves as great intellectual beings with so much to offer.

Until the day whence they meet someone greater, smarter, and alas more cynical then they and they whimper away like a beaten dog with their tail between their legs.

Suddenely the cynic has vanished and has become a simpleton.

And that was the end of the previously known cynic named....

'What was that? Of course I know all about how that came to be. That statement is so idealistic.'

"Never yeild to force; never yeild to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy."
Winston Churchill


"I have been driven many times to my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere to go. My own wisdom, and that of all about me, seemed insufficient for the day."-Abraham Lincoln.

Best poem ever

ode to a best friend:

alison higgins

wore a blue wiggins(actually she died her hair)

grandpa was mad

she didn't care

next came the tat

cool as can be

in microsoft word

font spelled "love recklessly"

"what else can i do?"

she pondered with glee

"best friend has red hair,

that'd look HOT on me!"

The eyebrow ring followed

"shot of jack maam?"

but ali was tough

said no thanks to cool parlor man

Now she's a writer a scholar,

a teacher,

some people are freaked

"A woman who's a preacher?!?"

Written by K.Shea-who is my best friend.

Only in passion can wisdom truly thrive. For it is not needed until the emotional strain is so heavy that it thickens the air.

Black and White Ball!

Went to the Black and White Ball at School and it was a BLAST!

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.

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.

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!

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?

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?

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.

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?

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.

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!

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?

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."

www.toothpastefordinner.com

"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

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.

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.

Christmas Shopping

1 pair of spends shorts...Thirty dollars
2 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.

"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.

"Use your words

Sadness has sunk in.

I HATE DEATH>

I still have no capacity for it even though I have expereinced it numerous times.

New Post

The King

I have always been a comic book and super hero junkie. I love learning about superhero's and really delving into their story. A couple of years ago I actually stumbled into a pretty unique story, and found one of the most powerful superhero's ever created.

This story is set in an Ancient city in Mesopotamia. It revolves around a man, named Joshua, who was born to rule. However, he was stripped of his title and his land and he was exiled. He become a lowly servant in the new town he moved to and was never much of a popular character. He was oddly different growing up and stayed close to his family.

He discovered his super powers around the age of twelve, but they didn't come into full capacity until he was about thirty which is when he became a full-fledged superhero. He was very kind and through his great influence created a following. While he was being followed and making an impact through his human side he was also making a large influence and saving people from dire life circumstances through his super human identity. Joshua's psudeo-name became the "King". He traveled all around Mesopotamia and became a house name among the outcasts and also among those in power.

The King could do a plethora of different things with his power. He could heal people, not only through touching them, but by just saying the words. He could control natural elements and could control the weather. He could read minds, and he could predict the future as well as look into your past. He could disappear in a moment and appear somewhere else. He could clone things, as well, through his control of nature. He had a great amount of power. I'm telling you he is one of the greatest super hero's I have ever read about.

With any good superhero story the King had an arch nemisis-actually he had a group of them. Because the King was gaining so much influential power the men who ruled in the towns where the King prasided where getting quite flustered. So they did what only corrupt men in power do, they framed him.

See every Superhero has a weakness. With superman it was kryptonite. With Batman it was poverty. With X-men it was their other mutant brothers and sisters.

Well the King's greatest weakness was the people he came to save. One day, one of the King's followers decided that he was sick of the lifestyle of selflisness and he sold the King out. These powerful men then caught the King and framed him. They put him through different trials just to humiliate him. Most of the King's followers scattered but there were a few who stood around to see if he would use his powers to get out of this scandleous situation.

The King went through every trial and went through every humilation that was presented to him. These powerful men then took the King and brutally murdered him on a hill outside the city called the Skull. Now every super hero finds himself in a dire situation and is on the edge of total destruction. They usally get out of it though.

The King just died. He just gave up.

When I read it I couldn't believe it. This man who was so influential just gave up. This man who had a super side of him didn't even try to escape the death that was so certian.

I soon found out that the King's greatest weakness was also his greatest strength.

A couple days went by and suddenley people started seeing the King. He started appearing to his closest followers and then just appeared to people on the street.

The King told his followers that he could not stay on the earth any longer but he told them that his Spirit would be with them. The King's followers didn't understand him until they started healing people, and until they started saving people as well.

This comic book hero is not fiction. He is real. He lived 2000 years ago and truly had super-human power, but he didn't let that power control him or determine his decisions. He followed God's redemptive plan and was stripped of his power and glory and he died a brutal death because he wanted to save the people that he loved.

He still wants to save us.

I'm living my dream.

The Will of God is/isn't safe....?

"Who said the will of God was ever safe?" E. McManus

"The will of God is the only safe place you will find in the overlap" W. Shaw

"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver. "Don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you." Lion the Which and the Wardrobe, Clive Staples Lewis

I have been recently involved in the will of God and these quotes seemed to have pulled some strings throughout my being.

God is not safe, because in our mind saftey is a precaution to danger. We become "safe" because of fear. We fear that we are going to fly out of our sit and through our windshield, so we wear our seatbelt.

We fear that someone is going to break into our house so we put locks on our doors and windows.

We fear that someone is going to rob us blind so we fear our neighbors and friends.

We are called to fear God. Why? Well I have been told two different responses growing up. The first is that God is powerful and can destroy your entire being in less than time itself allows. Since in our minds souls don't die we don't seem to comprehend that God could make a sudden movement and abliterate our souls forever. The western world has commonly thought of Heaven and Hell being the only two options. Well I would have to tend to disagree. God can destroy you in such a fashion that "nothingness" cotians more matter than you.

Second response to fearing God is actually being in Awe of Him because of His power. Which I guess could go along with the first response but I feel the reaction is differnt. When I fear God because I am afraid he is going to do something I react in a worldy human fear, but when I fear God because I understand the power and can see that power being lived out in my life I react in worshipful way. Awe in God literally scares the Hell out of me and allows me to react in a way that glorifies God.

God is not safe. When did the Gospel become tolerant and comforable. "Take up your cross....the dead can bury themselves, a fox has it's hole and a bird it's nest but the son of man has no place to lay his head..." Jesus never said the will of God is safe but he also lived out his life in ultimate and unfailing trust, which adheres to the saftey of God.

The will of God was never intended to be safe but it was always intended to be lived out, that is probably why it is not a safe place to meander about.