Ending The Letter

Notes from Mozambique 3

2011-07-12T14:01:00.001-05:00

From Evernote:

The brush burning near our work site sent huge plumes of smoke into the air. Fro

The brush burning near our work site sent huge plumes of smoke into the air. From the trenches, where I was busy slathering concrete onto bricks, I almost got the crackling sound confused with the sound of rain drops on a roof. I never knew fire and rain sounded so alike. Two very different elements, and I almost mistook one for the other.

I do this to people, too. In any given meeting, encounter, or conversation, we get hints and insights into the core of who a person is. Sometimes appearances can be decieving. Sometimes we get fire and water confused.

I've been reminded that there are very bad people in our world. I look around Mozambique and am reminded of how this country came to be one of the poorest in the world. People made bad decisions. People abused power and wealth and opportunity. But bad people are rarely obviously "evil." They don't (usually) try to conquer the world. They're just people who put themselves before others. It seems harmless, really. But those small decisions leave the world worse off. They sound like raindrops...

It's very difficult to know who someone really is at their core. This is why Jesus taught us, "you'll know them by their fruits." When in doubt, look up. It's easy to tell the difference between burning fire and falling rain - when your eyes are open.

Notes from Mozambique 2

2011-07-12T14:00:00.001-05:00

From Evernote:

Gondola

As we drove away, I noticed a pattern in every wave, every smile: someone had shown these people love before. We were able to laugh and play with these people because they knew love. And while there is no escaping the labels, we are seen as people, not objects.

Notes from Mozambique 1

2011-07-12T13:59:00.001-05:00

From Evernote:

Mozambique

There's not much of a difference between us. The things the Mozambiquen people need are the things we all need: hope- reconciliation after conflict. Safety for our families. Work. Enjoyment. Friends. Hope in spite of disease and death and loss. We're not better. We've just got fancier things. We're still looking for the same basic desires.
The basic question, then, is "do we choose others of ourselves? Does strength and selfishness win, or sacrifice and sensitivity?"

We're all running around like ants, whether we're gathering in the middle of a field, or typing in a cubicle.

What is it that I most value?

2011-06-08T10:16:00.002-05:00

What is it that I most value?

There's this feeling that rises up in me when I think of certain relationships. There are these moments of absolute wholeness - a feeling of things being right and complete. They don't happen often, but these moments are powerful enough to compel me forward in life. And there seems to be a theme.

Among these relationships there is an emotional vulnerability. There is trust. Words and feelings can be shared without fear. There is a desire for a deeper friendship. Some people just don't want that. But there is also an exchange of care. We give and take as we have need. When I take, it is usually encouragement or support. When I give it is spiritual, experiential, and intellectual guidance. I help people think and feel their way forward on The Path. What I value most in this life is my connections with people. I want these connections to be healthy, life-giving, and enlightening. I need these connections like I need water and air.

A little while ago, I was suddenly jarred as one my connections was severed. It was painful - like losing a limb. I found myself floundering, feeling empty, lost, and unwanted. After the initial shock and pain, I found myself reflecting on the rest of the connections that have brought me where I am today. I wrote in my journal that night, name after name after name. The number of people astonished me! It feels great knowing that the person I am today isn't me. I'm a combination of these beautiful people that have given part of themselves to me over a lifetime!

The thing I value is community: A group of people being one - with their flaws and sorrows and their hopes and dreams. This is the thing I live for.

A Futurist Eschatology?

2011-05-21T21:50:00.002-05:00

I've been reading more in the last few days than I have in years. I've recently finished the following books: Childhood's End by Arthur C. Clarke, The Long Walk by Stephen King, and Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. All of these books have some critique on the human race. In the first, the human race is dominated by an alien race in order for us to reach our full potential. In the second, humanity has lapsed to taking enjoyment in the death-walk of 100 boys. The third imagines a war in the far future from the perspective of a six year old boy who is fated to become humanity's salvation. And to top it all off, today marked the predictions of a world-wide rapture by some fraction of Christians.

And as a result of these imaginings, I have found myself examining humanity from unexpected angles. We are so helplessly split. It amazes me that nations, cultures, and religions act no more civilized than cruel children on a playground. They push and shove and want the best for themselves, and have no concept of suffering outside of their own.

We pretend to be civilized, to be mature and wise. But if we look at our collective behaviors we can catch a glimpse of who we really are. Babies. This isn't the end of the world. It's the beginning. We're just starting.

So I have a goal. In these next three years of seminary, I want to research a futurist eschatology. Futurist is a simple word for someone who predicts the future. Eschatology is the study of the end. But what if the end wasn't THE END, but the end... of childhood? Of human infancy? Is there room in the Christian faith for the future of humanity?

If not, can it be imagined?

Can we afford for it not to?

Lent sucks.

2011-04-25T14:48:00.005-05:00

I like pushing myself. I've moved across the country with nothing more than what fit in my car. Twice. I've run a marathon. I've gone back to school to chase a dream. I write papers on hard issues and research things that even wikipedia doesn't know. I reflect and write and analyze who I am and why I do the things I do. And... I practice Lent.

Lent: when you give up something for 40 (or 46) days in order to prepare yourself for Holy Week (the week before Easter). But this year, Lent did not leave me feeling refreshed or glad or happy. I just felt exhausted. Burnt out. Anxious. Doubtful. Inadequate. In the last month and a half, I've felt disconnected from my friends, misunderstood by my family, been keenly aware of my own faults and shortcomings, and felt like I've become this dulled and blurry version of myself.

And there's probably a good season for these feelings and experiences. It's probably a good idea to feel sober about the crucifixion. But Easter has come and gone and I don't feel any different. In fact, I feel really vulnerable and needy. (which the ladies love...)

But you know what? Where would we really be without those times? If we existed on cloud 9 each and every day? Life would suck, that's what. It's these times that help me put life in perspective. I should feel vulnerable and needy because, well, I am. We all are. If you feel confident and together and unattached, there's something wrong with you. Have you looked at the stars lately? Have you seen light that's traveled for hundreds or thousands of years to reach your eyes? Have you remembered that you're flying through space on a hunk of rock at unfathomable speeds? Have you forgotten that your life hangs from a thread and we are alive by the slimmest of margins? Each moment is a gift, even if it's a miserable moment.

The problem with humans is our perspective. We're so stuck seeing the world out of our own jaded eyes.

I was watching the Passion of the Christ this last week (which I love), and really loved the way they fleshed out the personality of Jesus. I could relate to this guy. So many Christians have turned Jesus into this celestial alien who descended from another planet (and I'm not talking about Mormons here). But this guy was full of emotion and feeling, of happiness and love, but also full of sorrow and despair. He was constantly getting away to be by himself, frustrated with the people around him, and eventually murdered by the very people he dedicated himself to.

So many people claim to follow him, but so few people like the dude. I dig Jesus. He got life and death on this level that so few people ever even consider. For instance - perspective. When it came to seeing the world a certain way, Jesus told this religious leader he had to be born from above. Being born on the ground apparently isn't enough. Our consciousness is too close to the meaningless drivel that powers the day-to-day life we live.

Being born from above means entering into an entirely new way of seeing the world. From above, things look different. It's suddenly not about trivialities and grudges and terrible reality tv shows. It's about the big picture. From above, humanity shares our space with clouds and mountains and rivers and sunrises and seasons and forces of nature. But we've pushed ourselves and our perceptions onto a pedestal that we worship.

And I get so sick of the energy I waste on ridiculous things! What Jesus didn't tell us what that when you're born from above, you fall to the ground. It's this weird process of getting pulled back in, then transcending it all once again. Born from above again. and again. and again. Each time higher than the last.

And I just realized that maybe the story of Jesus' ascension has something to do with this teaching. Born from above? Ascending above it all?

Can we ever escape the gravitational pull of this false life?

A Zombie Theology

2011-01-13T13:05:00.006-05:00

So as a Youth Director, I try to stay away from typical "youth pastor" sermons. You know the ones - superheroes in the Bible, surfing as a spiritual discipline, using hairspray and match to talk about hell (I witnessed that one. Yikes), etc., etc. But last night I taught on zombies. And I'm not ashamed of it. Because zombies aren't about monsters or horror movies or video games. Zombies are us. We are zombies.

Think about it. Zombies are hard to kill. They have an unquenchable desire. They hurt others without knowing why. They lose all identity and blend into the masses. They're shadows of they're meant to be.

Zombies are everything we fear about ourselves. There's not a single quality that zombies have that aren't first human qualities.

We are hard to kill.
More than ever, actually. Medical advances have kept us alive no matter how fast we try to eat or smoke ourselves to death. Maybe you're sick and old and WANT to die? Too bad, we keep you alive anyways. We are harder to kill than ever before. And what makes that even scarier is that we make a mockery of death in video games and movies and television shows. We hide away death in hospitals and nursing homes. Even when we do die, it's less of a reality and more of a concept for most of us.

We have an unquenchable desire.
Psychologists have discovered that no matter our outside circumstances, for the most part, we're always about the same level of happiness. Win the lottery? You'll be happy, but only for a short while. You'll be back to normal in no time. In our society, we run around pursuing pleasures - things that will finally make us happy. The next big meal, the next movie, the next video game system, the next relationship... we're always looking for something to complete us. We've got this unquenchable desire for more. We're never satisfied. And we know it. Happiness cannot come from outside sources.

We hurt others without knowing why.
This one is kind of self explanatory. We blurt things out in the heat of the moment. We poke fun at someone, telling ourselves that we're just having a little fun when we're really being passive aggressive. We know someone's feelings, and ignore them because we're frustrated. Sure, we hurt others on purpose a lot, but the worst times are when we hurt others and we didn't even intend on doing it. It's like our bodies just take over and ruin things. We lose control. And most of the time, we don't even know why.

We lose all identity and blend into the masses.
Could you define living in the 21st century any better? Facebook knows my age, my height, my hobbies. It knows how much time I spend on my computer and how many friends I have. Facebook even knows what kinds of ads are relevant to me. But does it KNOW me? Does it really know who I am?

No. I'm just another number.

Technology has connected us like never before, but these connections are shallow and weak. You could have every bit of data on me, and still not know me. You wouldn't know my deepest inadequacies or fears. You wouldn't know what makes my heart beat faster and makes me want to really LIVE. In today's world, we're always at risk of losing who we really are. We're constantly being told who we should be - but who ARE we? We want to feel important, not just another number.
Which leads me to the last idea.

We are shadows of who we're meant to be.
Isn't this the most haunting part of zombies? It's a person, but it's not. And even though zombies don't exist, we still understand this concept because we all know people who are alive but not living. They walk through life like shadows.
Don't we sometimes feel this way about ourselves? We work jobs and go to school day after day after day, doing to same routines, and somewhere in the midst of it all we realize that we're not actually living. We know we're better than this, and we're not sure how we got this way.

Resurrection and zombies.
Daniel, the head pastor at our church, has been preaching on what the Bible has to say about the afterlife. And contrary to popular culture, the Bible doesn't really talk about heaven and hell in the way most of us think about it. The early Christians believed in the resurrection of the dead. If you're not familiar with this concept, it's the teaching that at the end of time, God will bring back everyone who has ever lived. We're not talking about spirits here. We're talking about actual physical bodies. But the beautiful thing about this belief is that those beings will be the best versions of us. Essentially, they're the opposite of zombies. If zombies are the worst parts of us, the resurrection only brings back the best parts of us.

1 Corinthians 13 (you know, the one read at weddings), says that, "Now we see a dim reflection, as if we were looking into a mirror, but then we shall see clearly. Now I know only a part, but then I will know fully, as God has known me. So these three things continue forever: faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of these is love." I think that if we're honest with ourselves, we don't even know who we really are. We know a part - but our vision is dim. But someday, the truest parts of us will be set free. The parts of us that are bound to faith, hope, and love. Those will last forever. And that's beautiful.

But also a little scary.

Because if your identity is bound to things that have nothing to do with faith, hope, and love - there might not be much of you to resurrect. In the same way that we have zombie-like qualities in us right now, we have resurrected life in us right now. The New Testament is constantly talking about dying and living in this life. The process of truly living or truly dying has already begun - we only choose which direction we go. So let the dead things die, already. It's time to step up our game. Let's actually live.

2010-12-16T10:37:00.003-05:00

I drove through the sleet and rain last night, paying far too much attention to the frozen raindrops at the top of my windshield. The light from the streetlamps and stoplights reflected such a way in the elements that I suddenly found myself, after what seems like years, feeling peaceful. But that's a bit of an exaggeration. I've had a number of these moments in the last few weeks. Once, looking over the capitol building as the sun set in the distance. Another sunset, again while driving, that made me gasp and feel immense gratitude to be alive. A few nights ago I was driving over a bridge as saw homes lit up in the darkness, and again - peace and contemplation.

I'm happier than I've been in a while. I feel loved. I feel like I have a purpose and I make a difference, even if it is a small one. I have no doubts that I am at my best when I feel a sense of purpose and feel loved and supported. Don't we all? Isn't this how we were all meant to exist?

I think that all of this could be different if I had made just one different choice. One choice can change the entire path of your life. Take risks. Fight for your purpose. Find something worth living for.

Thoughts on music & prayer

2010-11-27T14:50:00.003-05:00

Having Thanksgiving break has been very healthy for me. I don't think I've taken three straight days to rest in years. So this morning I was tinkering with my guitar (with which I am quite the amateur), and began singing a little ditty about my cat. Well in no time at all, I found myself praying with a rhythm. I have never done this before. The strange thing was that the simple melody freed me to speak things I wouldn't have said otherwise.

Music is freeing. Lyrics today are packed with words (both good and bad) that one could not freely say in a casual tone. Even hymns in church touch on topics we don't speak about easily. How many hymns speak about death? (A lot.)

Prayer is a mysterious discipline, but so is music.

"Music is the shorthand of emotion" - Tolstoy

Words fold like paper.

2010-11-21T22:22:00.003-05:00

I don't write much anymore because it's too tiresome. It's easy to put an opinion out in the world. It's incredibly difficult to offer a thought, and all the nuances and language that goes along with it. Nothing you put into words will be received exactly as you intended it. Language is severely limited. The internet only makes this worse. I have engaged in a handful of Facebook "debates" and I can't think of a single instance where a well-written comment was understood completely by the opposing party.

I spent a few hours teaching origami to some students this weekend. I was struck by how hard it was to be exact with each and every direction. No matter how articulately I phrased myself, someone lost the meaning of my words. I have a feeling this happens a lot. People speak often, and it's just too much to ponder and reflect on each word they say. We let words pass through us. It's only when you're doing something like origami where you really see the holes in our language. But there's no "wrong folds" to see in regular conversation to tell us we're not being clear.

So back to writing. Writing for me is emotional. Let's say I have an idea and I want to get it out there. But for this idea to be properly understood means I have to give some background information, some context. But things of this nature grow quickly in size. I've seen too many blog posts that are just enormous. It's too much for any casual reader to follow. (I'm probably guilty of this, too. *sigh*)

So I haven't written because words fail. And I haven't written because there's too many people out there who aren't looking for knowledge. They're looking to pick a fight. They're looking to take sides. These days I care about the words I put out into the world. I want each one to count. But I feel that so few people care. I feel as if my words are frail creatures that flutter out into a toxic environment. They last for only moments before fading.

Besides, I work at a church where my ideas are accepted, where I can teach students who are still open-minded and optimistic about the world. I can be me in a community more than I can be me on here. This is a good thing. It's a great thing.

But it also weighs on me. I would like to offer words that oppose the status quo in our world. But to publicize words is to sacrifice clarity - and invite the kind of criticism that does no good.

But I'm writing this. And I'll write again. But for now, I write for people who listen.

Seedlings

2010-08-23T18:21:00.002-05:00

When I was in 1st grade, I put a seed inside a wet paper towel. Each day I would check the seed to see if anything happened. For days I saw no changes. But then, one day, I saw the seed split. As the next few days passed, more and more changes occurred. It was magical. I was seeing life bloom day by day, right in front of me.

I feel the same sense of awe working with our young people. Each week, I see young human beings blossom. It’s beautiful. More than ever, I see God at work in the world. I see God in wily middle school boys. I see God in the giggles of middle school girls. I see God in colorful imaginations, kind words, burning questions, and puppy-like exuberance. I see God when an awkward student becomes a graceful young man or woman. I see God reflecting back in hope-filled eyes.

I shared this with some high school students recently, but I think it’s great advice for everyone. If you want to be happy, if you want to experience wonder, become interested in other people. It’s easy to be focused on yourself when you spend all your time in one body. You are one person, after all. But we were definitely not designed to be alone. When was the last time you let yourself feel authentic curiosity about another human being? This is not a rhetorical question. Life is all around us.

But like a seed, you need to stand still long enough to see it sprout.

Balance of heart and hurt.

2010-08-18T23:11:00.004-05:00

I haven't written since June. It seems longer. I have no particularly interesting thoughts tonight, just a desire to type. I've been journaling for a little over a month now, but I just do not enjoy writing by hand. My pen cannot keep up with my thoughts.

I read an article today about young adults in the 21st century. According to this article, we're creating a second adolescence of sorts. They named it "emerging adulthood." More and more people find themselves not engaging in "adult-like" behavior until ages 26 or later. This is so bizarre to me - but it shouldn't be. I fall into this category perfectly. It's just so surreal to think that human beings are overwhelmed with so much information that we can't find ourselves until our bodies pass their peak. We literally pass our best physical years while our minds struggle to catch up. It's wonderful and scary to live during this time. We're treading on entirely new ground here as human beings.

I don't think a year of my life has passed where I don't feel a tremendous amount of change and growth. It has only been recently that I have really comprehended how many mistakes I make over the course of a year. But another part of this realization is the hope that with every mistake comes a chance to learn. I was reminded of that again today by a friend of mine who encouraged me to not expect unrealistic things from myself. Don't expect perfection. Ok. I can do that. Maybe. I suppose I'm enamored with the idea of perfection. No, that's not it. I'm enamored with the idea of completeness. I want everything I do to be done with intense willpower. I want to be absorbed into my work. But when you put your heart and soul into a piece of work and it fails, you're left with your heart open and vulnerable. How do you balance a healthy view of failure with a hopeful spirit?

I'm willing to try and that's all I know. That's enough for now.

Good Living, Good Speaking.

2010-06-10T10:12:00.005-05:00

I've had the good fortune to work for a Methodist Church in mid-Missouri for almost a year now. It's a big shift from my evangelical background, but when paired with some theological education, I've discovered a beautiful mix of creative passion and intellectual stimulation. This being said, I had the opportunity to preach this last Sunday, and it was challenging to say the least.
Our church is in a unique place due to it's size and spectrum of backgrounds. We have conservatives and liberals, rich and poor, young and old. We offer four services over the weekend, all of which have their own taste and feel. Teaching to such a diverse group of people can be a bit daunting. So I came up with a few methods in which I felt comfortable presenting, and realized something profound:

Good speaking is a lot like good living.

Let's flesh this out a little bit. A good speaker has a few qualities that stand out.

They believe what they're saying. So much so that they are more concerned with conveying this message than looking good in front of a crowd.
They care. They have their audience in mind when speaking. They want people's lives to be impacted by what is said. Less ego, more concern.
They don't take it personally. A good speaker isn't going to be defeated or inflated by their presentation. They need to get out of the way of the point. They are only a mouthpiece for something more important. It isn't about them.
They learn. Whatever the topic, a good speaker desires to understand the complexities within an issue and channel a healthy understanding to their audience.
They grow. Sometimes a good speaker has bad presentations. They learn from their mistakes, and focus on improving their techniques for the purpose of engaging and educating their audiences.

These are the qualities for which I strive when speaking. And honestly, it really helps take the edge off. When I'm less concerned with myself or my appearance, I have more time to focus on truly immersing myself within a topic. When I care more for my audience than I do about myself, I find that my anxiety lessens considerably.
But these qualities work wonders when applied to living, as well!

Think about it. When someone has purpose and belief in their life, they have a certain spark. This attracts people. Or have you ever met someone who cares about making a positive impact on the people in their life? Their actions are empowered. And when we have a healthy understanding of ourselves, we don't become puffed up with pride or debilitated with defeat. We understand our place in the big picture. It isn't about us. Those people who have dedicated themselves to a cause often know their beliefs inside and out - learning everything they can about their passion. It doesn't matter who they may encounter - they make their passion interesting. Even in failure, some learn from their mistakes. Nothing is wasted on their journey.

Good speaking is often a reflection of good living. When we live something well, we should be able to talk about it with ease. Knowing this has helped me tremendously with life and teaching. Don't wait till next time. Start preparing through your life: your actions, thoughts, and words.

Objectify Me.

2010-04-22T11:35:00.001-05:00

I've come across some interesting facts in my studies lately. For instance, did you know that we spend more than $20 Billion on cosmetics each year in the United States alone? Or were you aware that experts now believe that kissing was originally only between a mother and her child, and only became a symbol of "romance" much later, depending on the culture? (Japan didn't have a notion of romantic kissing until the 19th century!) Or have you heard that women do 2/3rds of all work hours in the world, yet earn less than 10% of the proceeds? And I'm still shocked when I'm reminded that women only had the right to vote in 1920.

I'm beginning to see why the early Christians had unconventional views when it came to women and men.

"Do not rebuke an older man harshly, but exhort him as if he were your father. Treat younger men as brothers, older women as mothers, and younger women as sisters, with absolute purity." 1 Tim. 5:1-2

Our culture so frequently "objectifies" people. (We don't see people as human beings - we treat them like objects!) Look at the cover of some beauty magazine or how many people get murdered in the latest action flick. Even friendships are on the decline from just a few decades ago.

Last night I asked our Middle School students to close their eyes and think of a person they're extremely attracted to. Then I asked them to pretend that person is their brother or sister. You should have seen the reactions! They squirmed and screamed and thought I had done something horrible to them.

But this is what the scriptures tell us to do! How much would your life change if you began to see everyone around you as your brothers or sisters? You would certainly look at people differently. And most definitely treat people differently.

I've dated around and I see people get completely paranoid and hurt from this process. The best "daters" I know are also the least attached! I'm certain this kind of thinking is absurd to some people, but I'm sick of seeing women and men look at each other like objects and use one another for their own pleasures. What I would do to see women and men treat each other like family!

But we brainwash our boys and girls to look for magical romance, all while looking for someone to fill an empty void in ourselves. It's a sad system - And I, for one, am done with it. I'll be trying these new lenses on - seeing the women around me as sisters. I don't want to use people - I want to know them. Check out this excerpt from Tolstoy's "Walk in the Light While There is Light":

"The difference between marriage among us and marriage among you consists only in the fact that our law reveals to us that every lustful look at a woman is a sin, and so we and our women, instead of adorning ourselves to stimulate desire, try so to avoid it that the feeling of love between us as between brothers and sisters, may be stronger than the feeling of desire for a woman which you call love.”

“In this: that a man loves a woman for the enjoyment he can get by connection with her and not because she is a human being like himself. He marries her solely for his own enjoyment. Christian marriage is possible only when a man loves his fellow men, and when the object of his carnal love is first of all an object of this brotherly love. As a house can only be built rationally and durably when there is a foundation, and a picture can be painted only when something has been prepared on which to paint it, so carnal love is only le gitimate, reasonable, and permanent when it is based on the respect and love of one human being for another. Only on that foundation can a reasonable Christian family life be established.”
(Download this book here.)

I'm not even sure I've ever heard a teaching about this. And it's not as if we're doing a good job of forming families or making lasting marriages. Our culture has little value for human beings as people, but we love the chase - we love how romance makes US feel. But if we truly loved people, we would find ourselves fulfilled by that very love!

I'm excited that there are alternatives to everything I've ever been taught about romance.

Desire.

2010-04-08T14:20:00.001-05:00

I suppose I should just say it. I've terribly lonely. I've been reluctant to give words to this feeling mostly because I love many of the people that are in my life and I would hate for them to think they have failed me in some form or fashion. When I let myself examine this emotion, I realize two things: 1) I miss my family and 2) I miss a supportive community. I suppose I didn't realize how truly blessed I was to know probably a dozen people who could pray for me at any given moment. I find it interesting that I would define a "supportive" community by their willingness to pray. It's not that I think praying for people somehow makes them better friends. It's just that it takes a certain amount of vulnerability on the part of both people. And people aren't vulnerable with one another very often. Supportive communities, in my mind, are groups of people who are willing to get vulnerable with one another.

And so I'm left with a predicament. I'm surrounded by people and feel more alone than when I'm by myself.

It gives me quite the bit of anxiety. My chest tightens up (or perhaps it's my gut?), I get heart palpitations, and I feel generally squeamish and shaky. This isn't because I'm alone. This one is more related to my profession. I work with youth. This is amazing and intimidating. I feel that my youth pastors failed me gravely in the past. So I try to be very honest and very real with these kids. I'm always amazed by the kind of material they can handle and their enthusiasm and willingness to listen. But there's so much of life that can't be taught with words. There's a huge part of the Christian faith that is made up of true community. Heck, I might argue that the Christian faith is ENTIRELY based upon the idea of selfless community. And this I do not have. I can't model this. I can't practice it. And so I feel that I am failing these youth.

And that gives me anxiety.

What I would give for a few of my old friends! What a snow-ball effect it would have.

Perhaps this will change. But for now, I love.

The scriptures tell us that if we delight in the LORD, he'll give us the desires of our hearts.
Well I desire what the early Christians had. I desire a community that so loved God and so loved people that they would die for one another. I desire a community that values each other more than they value their possessions or wealth. I desire a place where I know I am accepted - no matter my mistakes or moods. I desire a community where true growth is possible. I desire love. Not romance. True love among people.

But for now I just have desire.

World

2010-03-08T12:30:00.001-05:00

It's been too long since I've really looked at the stars. Life has gotten busy. I have joined the hustle and bustle of the real world and have experienced a dramatic shift in my daily thoughts. I've been focusing on trivialities. I wish it wasn't such a tightrope walk to keep your focus on what matters. I wish I wasn't so easily distracted.

I'm the kind of person that likes to feel like I'm accomplishing something. But it's becoming exceedingly harder to feel that way. A younger version of myself would probably be very proud of where I am today - but with increased knowledge comes a brooding sensation that I'm really not accomplishing much of anything. There are just so many people in the world. And every time I go out there, I'm deluged with marketing and ads, with road-raging drivers and egocentric shoppers. We've established a culture of selfishness and it's eating us from the inside out.

So I walk around weighed down by the wrongness of it all, and speak up when I can. I have this amazing opportunity to teach from the scriptures to a group of Middle and High schoolers, but the Good News isn't easily glossed-up or marketable. It's a hard word and it's so often watered down by churches today. We appeal to the masses because we've been trained to think numbers matter. I wish I knew where the line was. I wish I could understand how Jesus and 12 strangers changed the world.

There's this underlying attitude I see Jesus have towards people in the scriptures. At every turn, he's willing to forgive people of their mistakes. He helps them move beyond their labels and mistakes and look forward to being a new person - a new creation. But when people hesitated, he had no patience for them. Get with the program or get out. If someone didn't follow him, it didn't seem to faze him. He invested in those who cared and dismissed those who didn't. Odd, right? The early church worked this way as well. If you wanted to be a Christian, you were welcomed into this radical new kind of community. But if you got into a dispute with someone and refused to act according to the values of these people, you essentially could get kicked out of the club and would be treated like an outsider again. (Which happens to be an open arms policy).

I wish the early church still existed today. I wish it could have a chance to blossom again without being labeled a socialist movement or radical heretics. I think trying to make the world a better place is easier when you're doing it with the people you love. It doesn't matter how many times you fail - you've always got your friends there to pick you up. What happened to radical loyalty? What happened to love?

Things I've learned from Youth Ministry

2010-02-02T03:24:00.001-05:00

A friend from college recently asked me if I had any advice about youth ministry. I've been working as a Youth Director for almost six months, and even though I have much to learn, I can share some of my successes and failures. Here are some of the things I was surprised to learn about youth ministry:

1) Communication is vital!
I spent most of my time communicating. I write to parents. I write to youth council. I write to volunteers. I write to students. I write thank you letters. I write for the newsletter. I am constantly finding out that people need to know what's going on - not only with events, but with the heart and direction of the youth ministry. Everything you say, write, or do sends a message - you need to broadcast passion!

2) You're not just a youth minister.
Obviously, everyone has a different community, but I've found that I spend just as much time working with parents and volunteers as I do working with youth. This isn't a bad thing. You see a student for MAYBE a few hours a week... and that's in a group setting. If you want to impact their lives, impact your volunteers and impact their parents. They spend WAY more time with their kids than you do.

3) Middle Schoolers are way smarter than you give them credit for.
But good luck feeling that way when you're trying to keep them quiet. I've had the pleasure of seeing a group of Middle Schoolers grow over the last 6 months. We don't have an Xbox. We don't have a Wii. We have a 1987 nintendo and some beat-up games. We play games together, but more than anything, we try to know every single youth that walks through our doors - and we treat them like human beings. Middle Schoolers get patronized way too much. Talk real with them. They may not respond, but they get it a lot more than they show. Try throwing some deeper theological stuff their way. Ask them questions. Ask a lot of questions.

4) Getting volunteers is one of the hardest parts of youth ministry... but vital.
My goal is to have every student known by name. But you can only really know a few dozen people tops. Get adults involved! Ask people to help! Young people need adults (that are not their parents) to be involved in their lives. They don't have to be cool, smart, religious, or an extrovert. They just need to care. Students have a natural talent for spotting authenticity.

5) Super small things make huge impacts.
Compliment. Show that you're paying attention. When you're with your youth - be there. Be completely there. Don't let your mind wander. Be wholly present. Listen. Always see the strengths in your kids. Be patient.

6) You're a servant.
I've never felt so mentally and spiritually exhausted in my life. It takes tremendous energy to communicate with families and listen to their feedback. Listening is more than hearing. It's digesting and processing what they're going through. You're not special. You're serving these families and trying to help give them a place where they can be the best version of themselves - God's version of themselves. This takes constant consideration. Do not pursue your own agenda. Ask yourself, "Are the actions I'm taking going to serve my kids or their families?" That doesn't mean pampering them - sometimes it means pushing them a little out of their comfort zone - but only when it's based on Biblical truths, like generosity, holiness, or inclusion. But always speak humbly. Always make your intentions clear!

7) You'll never know how much of an impact you'll have.
There's a huge temptation in religious circles to emphasize an outward response to a teaching or worship experience. A leader can see these responses, but true development isn't showy. It's deep and may strike at the most random times. You'll say something off-hand and it'll profoundly impact a life. I like to think of this as the Holy Spirit moving through our groups. Even if it doesn't seem you're making an impact, always prepare. Teach something worthwhile. Teach with passion. But pray and study. You need to believe the things you say. You need to know them inside and out. But don't be surprised if the biggest impact comes from the most unexpected source.

8) YOU NEED REST!
Take a Sabbath. Decide upon a day of the week and make it holy. Turn off your cell phone. Don't check e-mail. Rest. It is good to work hard, but we aren't built to work without rest. You will make a greater impact if you're healthy inside and out.

9) Move slow.
If you're new, honor the traditions of the past. Don't try to change things quickly. It's enough of a change to bond with a new youth minister. After six months, I JUST changed our regular meeting nights. And even then, there's been hiccups. Communicate, communicate, communicate!

10) Support your fellow staff members.
This one is important. Your ministry is bound to interact with other aspects of the church. Be a source of light - even in your church office! You're a team - you're a family. Even if it's a little each day, show some support for your team! You'll be glad you did.

11) Theology is different in the real world.
Logic and reason were my friends in college. I could reason my way through all sorts of theological problems. But when it comes to people, most of that is nonsense. Good teaching isn't giving answers. It's getting them to ask the right kinds of questions. Jesus asked more questions of people than people asked him! If you're tempted to repeat an answer you heard before - think twice. If you weren't convinced, they won't be either. Balance mind and heart.

I'm sure there are things I've forgotten here, but these have all been a huge surprise to me. I arrived with a gung-ho attitude, and I'm grateful for the patience of the people in my life. Youth ministry is an amazing opportunity, and the better we are at our jobs, the more we effect lives. It's not homework where you get a grade. Your successes and failures will literally change lives. Pray, live in awe, rest, and learn.

Reflections on 25

2010-01-14T16:15:00.001-05:00

I'm 26 today. And as I think back on the last year, I'm blown away by how much has happened. I've lived in 8 different homes in the last year, between Florida, North Carolina, and Missouri. I've traveled to LA, Hollywood, Nashville, Charlotte, Savannah, Miami, Jacksonville, Hilton Head Island, Kansas City, St Louis, Orlando, Tampa, Boston, and driven halfway across the United States. I freelanced. I was accepted to Naval Officer Candidate School for Intelligence as well as to Candler Theological School at Emory, but chose, instead, to become a Youth Director for a few dozen youth in the middle of Missouri. I've visited old friends, said good-bye to great ones, and made brand new ones. But more than anything, I've been incredibly humbled this year.

Where ever you go, there you are. No matter how much I travel or friends I meet, I have realized that I must always live with myself, even if I have not always been true to myself. What I've realized is this: Change happens. It's both gentle and harsh, quick and slow, sly and obvious, sad and happy. But it happens. Our choice, then, is to accept this life, or deny it. And although there are many circumstances that are out of our control, when it comes to our truest and deepest selves, we choose to grow or decay. Change only goes two ways.

Which brings me to my next thought: They say teenagers can't process long-term decisions. It's something about the frontal lobe of the brain not being fully developed, and if that's true, it sure explains a lot about my life. Because if I've learned something in the last 5 months of being a Youth Director, it's this: teenagers hate change. That is... until they hate their current circumstances. Maybe it's more than teenagers - because that certainly sounds like a human quality. People hate change... unless they hate the present more. That's why tragedies change us - they make us move. We must reach a certain level of dissatisfaction before we're willing to budge from our nest.

So to get back to my introspection, I've discovered this long-term thinking to be very beneficial to my state-of-being. My desire to live a worthwhile life is more valuable to me than the comforts that the present offers. I have managed to appreciate the present - love it, even - but with a certain amount of reservation. Because this ends. All of it. My 25th year ended - but so will all the rest. The question then becomes - what's truly valuable in this world?

Most people I know would probably answer "relationships." But then, again, we fall into rocky territory. Everyone has relationships - even the worst people on the planet. A friend of mine works at a prison. Even murders and child-molesters have friends.

We have friends because they make us feel better.

Many of our relationships are abusive in that we use people for our own emotional triggers. We hate feeling alone. So, then, what am I trying to say? Well, to be blunt, if our lives don't contribute to something, they're worthless. Fortunately, "every story needs it's Gollum." (Thanks, Dr. Waddell!) Even the worst of us contribute to the future in some way.

This reminds me of a Bible verse. (I talk about the Bible a lot, but for some reason, I don't share the things that truly and deeply move me. Let me remedy that here.)

"We know that everything works together for good for those who love God." Romans 8:28

This isn't a verse about how God likes Christians better and gives them wishes out of a magic lamp. Rather, when you love something with all your being, you can't help but align yourself with it. Your life isn't going to magically come together if you love God. But the way you see things - your experiences - everything changes when you're in love. Every problem and ache and disappointment in life looks different when it's seen through this lens. Everything - every earthquake and tsunami, every divorce and every tear, every hungry child and every death - it all works together. Because death isn't the end. Suffering isn't the end. When we love God, we see a path emerge. The early Christians even called themselves "followers of the Way."

There is a path. A process. There's a radical concept of hope. And this is valuable.

Worth dying for.

And maybe even worth living for.

And that's where I find myself. I have searched and searched, and happened to stumble upon this path that has been winding all around me this entire time. It doesn't matter where I am or what my profession is. It doesn't matter how old I am, or how many mistakes I've made.

This is where my heart is: on the path.

This is how I handle change. This is how I handle life. When your life (a speck) contributes to something big (think: universe), change is easy. In the face of Holiness, all sense of entitlement is lost.

Every moment is a gift and every moment is fleeting.

But holy.

Cold thighs and cold thoughts.

2009-12-26T20:15:00.003-05:00

I ran towards the west. Within moments, I realized it was too cold. Snowflakes battered my face and hands. I knew why I was doing this. Running is my meditation and it had been far too long. But even in the cold, I didn't stop this time. I didn't turn around. I kept on. First my fingers went numb. Then the tops of my thighs. Then my calves. I ran faster, hoping that I could turn on some inner reserve of heat to keep from freezing. At first, I only felt cold.

I stopped at a small bridge only half a mile away. I stared at the slowly moving stream, the rusty iron bars that held the bridge up, and the spray-painted '93' that marked where the great flood had risen.

I turned back, still freezing. But as I neared my parking spot, I realized something. I wasn't cold anymore. Everything was warm. So I ran on, past my car, going East. I'd never gone running in the snow before. It was... amazing. It was beautiful.

I saw a hawk flying above the cliffside, gliding on the frigid wind.

I so often feel like a domesticated animal, sitting at my computer, eating processed food, driving my old man car. But this wasn't easy. It was hard. And so wonderful. For a half hour, I wasn't so domesticated. I ran, cold and steaming... like I should be.

I want so very badly, to learn how to live like this. I want to push myself out of my comfort zone and into the wild.

2014 - The appalachian trail. Hopefully that will be a step in the right direction.

Thoughts on Thoreau

2009-12-19T12:52:00.001-05:00

It's Friday evening already. I've been here three days. Thanks to the ambitions of my friends, I find myself reinvigorated to the possibilities of life.

It's amazing what a few years can do. Life is change. It's always a challenge to love the present - all while accepting that it will slip away. I can't decide whether time is my mistress or muse. I have an unhealthy obsession with her. That's why, after visiting Thoreau's cabin at Walden Pond today, I felt an overwhelming urge to leave my plans behind and do something as simple as living in a cabin. What a bold statement!

I will not be controlled by time.
I will live simply
and in harmony with nature.
I will not give in to panic.
I will not give in to the elements.
I will be.

For over 100 years, people have been bringing stones to the site of Thoreau's old cabin. These are people who have ventured from around the world to see with their own eyes where this man lived simply. The pile is huge - larger and wider than the site of the actual cabin. There are even stones engraved with the birth and death dates of the dead.

I suppose I now find irony in that. Regardless of our reaction, panic-ridden or calm, time still consumes us. I supposed that's what truly matters. Death might be out of our control - but the way we react to it is not. We decide.

I see something similar in the 23rd Psalm as it talks about walking in the valley of the shadow of death. Something few people notice is how important that setting is. Our lives are lived in this valley - with the shadow creeping closer every day. But the author isn't fazed. "you prepare a table before me."

This guy sits down and eats a meal. In the face of death.

And all while this shadow looms close, he believes that "goodness and mercy" follow even closer.

So chill.

So brave.

I want this.

Updates

2009-11-29T22:36:00.002-05:00

Thanks to Shea for the questionnaire idea.

Counting down: Paying off my credit card. Lame, I know - but progress for me.

Singing: Alexi Murdoch - absolutely amazing. The guy moves my soul.

Hooked on: Pumpkin spice milk. It has taken over eggnog for my favorite seasonal drink.

Blessed by: My new friends. I feel especially grateful for them. And my new apartment.

Addicted to watching: Heroes.

I’m feeling: Reflective. Whole.

Ok with: The idea that I am a novice at youth ministry and that I will have to work very hard to become good.

Self-discovered: That I have have much more to learn! I am done with my plateau. Time to read!

Motivated to: Read every book I haven't yet finished on my bookshelf.

Unmotivated to: Finish cleaning my old apartment.

Enjoying regularly: Running again. It has been too long. I'm slow, sore, but elated.

Wondering: How religious people seem to dismiss the ramifications of their beliefs. Too much to say here.

Anticipating: Meeting with the Youth Director of Church of the Resurrection. A guy who sees 1000 kids a week has to have SOME advice for me.

Craving: Chocolate-covered pretzels.

Annoyed with: Having my opinion dismissed.

Grateful for: My job. Working with great kids.

Praying for: My brother. And a renewed passion for learning.

Researching: "The Chosen." I am fascinated by this book.

Mostly missing: My Lakeland friends.

Dwelling on: My purpose for living.

Wrapping up: Moving out of my old apartment. Ugh to cleaning.

Wind swept

2009-11-10T23:31:00.003-05:00

I drive. The cold November air flows through my open windows, nipping at my cheeks. I feel truly awake for the first time in days. Until now, I have felt removed, dismembered, powerless. But here and now I remember the threads which cross time and space - bonds that shape my identity. Life is so precious, and yet so many of my moments are stolen by the sleep-like state I drift through. Where are my bright eyes and awe-struck hope?

I envy Henry David Thorough - his escape to Walden Pond. How can I keep from becoming a simple solute in the solution of society? I am being dissolved, barraged by advertising and culture with no true escape in sight.

Is there something in the wind and moon and stars that somehow sets things right?

We are barraged birth with external forces. These forces weave and wind around us and yet , somehow - in some way - WE emerge. "I" emerges. We are marketed to unlike any generation before us. We are connected to unfathomable amounts of information. And yet, in the face of advertising and cultures and education... we sometimes still become something unique. We exist as individuals - even if that existence is within a cocoon of conditioning.

Nature verses nurture is more than a silly undergrad catchphrase. A huge part of us exists because of the conditions in which we live. Am I my experiences?

I am a dirt-man, made of earth and influences.

But something more, too.

It's that something that makes me feel truly alive. It's that something which awakens from the cold breeze on my face and hands. It's that something that purrs deeply in my chest when I dream. That something is more than the influences that define me.

I want that part of me to grow. I want it to blossom and grow roots deep into the rest of me. May true life spring from the shell of the man I am expected to be.

I drive. And I tap into something pure and small. It's just so hard to find between all the rest. But when I do, it's like waking up.

Blog for The Mustard Seed Fair Trade

2009-11-05T12:30:00.001-05:00

The things we buy speak worlds about us. And for a good reason. In many ways, we define ourselves by the things we own: The cars (or bikes) we drive, the clothes we wear, the music we enjoy. Even the foods we eat and the way we decorate our homes define what kind of person we are. Perhaps you strive to be perceived as sophisticated. Or maybe you’re trendy. You might be a rebel, or even an artist.

Our surroundings and possessions often reflect the kind of person we are!

That’s why Mustard Seed Fair Trade exists. Because even though our possessions define US, they also affect the lives of people all over the world. There’s a shift happening. There is a growing number of people who use their purchasing power to do more than define themselves. Their possessions help people.

What if there were a group of people who were both sophisticated, trendy, rebellious, or artistic... and caring? The scarf wrapped close around your neck this winter could represent more than fashion or function. It could represent generosity and care. Your Christmas decorations could create goodwill and cheer, not only for your family, but for families thousands of miles away. The simplest items in your home can represent an entirely different world view!

Next time you pull out your wallet, remember this: In your hand there is something more than simple currency. Money is symbolic. It represents your ability to change things. It can buy you pleasure, food, conveniences, and needs. But like anything, how you use that power speaks worlds about the kind of person you are. So who are you?

 A mustard seed is a very, very tiny seed. But it grows. It grows and it grows and it grows. From something very tiny, much life develops! Our dream is that your purchase, as small as it might be, creates incredible growth for people throughout the world. Wow. Who knew a scarf could be more than a scarf?

Looking forward to seeing you soon.

Much Love,

Chris

I'll take my want and the bruises and bumps that come along with it.

2009-11-03T02:49:00.003-05:00

I've watched "Away We Go" two times now. I hate watching most movies more than once - but there are certain films that just awaken something inside of me. I can watch those films time and again. This was one of them.

In a lot of ways I don't know what real love should look like - that is - the relationship kind of love. I often over-think things and dissect my own feelings. I sometimes doubt the authenticity of my emotions, which in most cases is a valid response. I'm an imaginative guy, but I've never really been able to imagine what love should look like for me. It's much easier to identify those relationships in which I would rather not participate.

But for the first time, I've been able to envision a relationship that I can identify with. Yes, it's still a Hollywood fabrication. But that's not the point. The point is that I've had my imagination kindled. I want this thing.

It's hard, this wanting.

I've wanted before. I was younger and incomplete. I wanted someone else to make me whole. And it just doesn't work that way.

But this... this is different. I am "me." I am as "me" as I can get. This new wanting is different. It, too, is lonely - but not the needy, clingy lonely. It's the "I can't do this alone" kind of lonely. It's the "I can't change the world by myself" kind of lonely.

As I grow older, I understand that there is often a medium to life. I can't want people to complete me - but I can't close myself entirely off to people either. There's a line to walk. That's where this wanting is. It's a careful balance. It's a needy independence. Who knew?

But want leaves us open to hurt. When we want, sometimes we can't have. But that's just life. Sometimes we hurt.

The alternative? No feelings at all.

I'll take my want and the bruises and bumps that come along with it.

The Nothing God

2009-10-14T00:28:00.002-05:00

I want to talk about love. It’s overused and under-appreciated. People flirt with the word itself just as much as they would the concept. And why always romance? I feel cheated - like we’ve all been told the most powerful love we can experience is between genders. Lately, I’ve been deconstructing my expectations about love.

As I write this, I realize my journey towards understanding love has been startlingly similar to my journey towards understanding God. It began with a misconception. Love and God are so poorly represented. And yet we strive towards them - believe in them - even if we’ve never truly encountered them. We doubt ourselves.

Maybe that was love? Maybe that was God?

And then comes the darkness. Its tendrils weave their way from the shadows into the deepest part of your being. In those moments you experience a dark clarity: Love/God doesn’t exist.

You must make due with what is.

There are people that never escape this place.

And in the messy, nonsensical way that is life, I have come to believe in both love and God. There is no logic to it. There is no reason that I believe in them. I just do.

I started wearing this wristband a few weeks ago. It says,
“Do No Harm, Do Good, Stay In Love With God.”

I wore it in the hopes that perhaps somehow I could believe it. I didn’t, though. Not really. I have slowly melted the idols that I have called “god” and “love.” They pool at my feet and are far from their former glory. Even those remnants disappear over time. In that empty space, however, I’ve discovered that we are allowed to let things be. Trying to define our beliefs is like trying to carve a cloud or mold fire.

In that empty place I have become aware of something I cannot define. In my loneliness, doubt, and darkness, I love. In that love not only have my concepts of “love” and “God” faded, but my concept of self has faded. “I” and “me” are no longer the place from which I relate to my surroundings. I feel wholeness in emptiness.

[Paul] spoke, saying, “People of Athens! I’ve observed how reverent you are in all ways, whether towards reason or revelation. I’ve scrutinized the objects of your attention, and discovered one that pertains to all of us: An altar to the God unknown. In your reverence, you’ve realized the limitations of your knowledge. You want to know what I’ve come to reveal? The artist-God who crafted reality and everything in it, who has power over all things both spiritual and material, wasn’t hand-crafted by anyone! He doesn’t fit in houses of worship, or need to be spoon-fed - as if God hungered. We are the ones lacking - and everything we have has been given. Even mankind, who has filled the earth, has a first cause. Reality has been fine-tuned to support life, and all of our circumstances have allowed us all to askthe same question: ‘Why?’ We grope around, looking for something more, and some of us find God. What we didn’t expect was how close God really is to each of us. “In Him we live and move and exist.” See! Your own poets are beginning to grasp God! “For we His children.”
(Acts 17:22-28 - My Translation)

This has beautifully described my journey in discovering something more than a word. Encountering love is like groping in the dark - we search for it - hope for it - yearn for it. And some of us never find it. Why? Because it's already here. It's closer than we were told to look. Close out your distractions. Sweep away your old drawings of God. Find something true and real - and near.

Church Devotional

2009-10-06T20:34:00.000-05:00

In the beginning God spoke. And spoke. And spoke. He spoke until creation was formed. And then he spoke one more time. God tells Adam to name the animals. God watches Adam as he is asked to speak - to create.

God asks humankind to partner with Him in creation. We don’t need advanced degrees or special tools to create. We need words. Without words, all of our achievements are useless. Words connect us. Words create.

But words can destroy, too.

“A gentle tongue is a tree of life,
but perverseness in it breaks the spirit.”
Proverbs 15:4 (NRSV)

We become so used to talking that we rarely care about what we’re saying. You’ve been invited to join God in the act of creation, and your words are key! Speak today as a creator might. Build people up. Be kind. Create friendships and bonds. Create humor and happiness. Speak up.

God wants to see what you’ll make.

The Great Lover by Rupert Brooke

2009-10-06T00:21:00.003-05:00

This is one of the better poems I've ever read.

I have been so great a lover: filled my days
So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise,
The pain, the calm, and the astonishment,
Desire illimitable, and still content,
And all dear names men use, to cheat despair,
For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear
Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
Now, ere the unthinking silence on that strife
Steals down, I would cheat drowsy Death so far,
My night shall be remembered for a star
That outshone all the suns of all men's days.
Shall I not crown them with immortal praise
Whom I have loved, who have given me, dared with me
High secrets, and in darkness knelt to see
The inenarrable godhead of delight?
Love is a flame; -- we have beaconed the world's night.
A city: -- and we have built it, these and I.
An emperor: -- we have taught the world to die.
So, for their sakes I loved, ere I go hence,
And the high cause of Love's magnificence,
And to keep loyalties young, I'll write those names
Golden for ever, eagles, crying flames,
And set them as a banner, that men may know,
To dare the generations, burn, and blow
Out on the wind of Time, shining and streaming....
These I have loved:
White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, faery dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such --
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns....
Dear names,
And thousand other throng to me! Royal flames;
Sweet water's dimpling laugh from tap or spring;
Holes in the ground; and voices that do sing;
Voices in laughter, too; and body's pain,
Soon turned to peace; and the deep-panting train;
Firm sands; the little dulling edge of foam
That browns and dwindles as the wave goes home;
And washen stones, gay for an hour; the cold
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
Sleep; and high places; footprints in the dew;
And oaks; and brown horse-chestnuts, glossy-new;
And new-peeled sticks; and shining pools on grass; --
All these have been my loves. And these shall pass,
Whatever passes not, in the great hour,
Nor all my passion, all my prayers, have power
To hold them with me through the gate of Death.
They'll play deserter, turn with the traitor breath,
Break the high bond we made, and sell Love's trust
And sacramented covenant to the dust.
---- Oh, never a doubt but, somewhere, I shall wake,
And give what's left of love again, and make
New friends, now strangers....
But the best I've known,
Stays here, and changes, breaks, grows old, is blown
About the winds of the world, and fades from brains
Of living men, and dies.
Nothing remains.

O dear my loves, O faithless, once again
This one last gift I give: that after men
Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed,
Praise you, "All these were lovely"; say, "He loved."

Rupert Brooke, Mataiea, 1914

The Master's Voice

2009-10-03T01:16:00.000-05:00

I remember the year I discovered how to really write. I would sit at my dinky broken laptop, trying to somehow tap out my frustration. It was terrible. Maybe it was terrible because it was completely about me. It has been said that you can only truly know yourself, and I suppose I agree with that. But sometimes you’re so close you can’t see clearly. Knowing yourself can be difficult. So for years, I wrote to know who I was. That doesn’t make my writing any better. What I’ve found is that over the years, my concerns have changed. I once wondered whether I would heal. Now I wonder if the world will ever heal. Once I saw the world within myself. Now I see myself within the world.

Somehow, I navigated the chaotic waters of my soul. The stars shone the way, like they always did back then - but now I am in uncharted territory. I’m no longer fumbling around in the dark trying to find myself. I’ve found myself, but in a world much larger than I ever imagined. I’m lost all over again.

I feel so strongly these days! Whenever I think about life, my chest tightens up and my heart feels like it’s in my throat. I feel like I’ve climbed a mountain only to take in the view by myself. It’s like death, but smaller.

No one can teach you what death is like. You just have to experience it.

Sometimes I walk around and all I see are wooden marionettes with missing hearts. In a comic-like fashion, they each find themselves tangled, trying to fill the holes in their chests with anything that will fit. Is there anything that will fit? Can anything really fill that longing in our hearts?

I could fix myself. But I can’t fix anyone else.

Why are people so threatened by love? I’ve received so much resistance to the message of radical acceptance. Moreso than anything I’ve seen before. People don’t want to stop hating. They like feeling disdain and resentment. They use sarcasm and spite to give themselves courage, and they don’t even see it! Where are today’s heroes? Where are our prophets?

Our world is a web of voices, and it’s becoming harder and harder to distinguish the Master’s voice.

Bertrand Russell

2009-09-30T23:34:00.002-05:00

This quote is my heartbeat. It is the air I breathe.

"Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course, over a great ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.
I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy - ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of life for a few hours of this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness--that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what--at last--I have found.
With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine. And I have tried to apprehend the Pythagorean power by which number holds sway above the flux. A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.
Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate this evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.
This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me."
~Bertrand Russell

A Letter: Walk Humbly with Your God

2009-09-24T03:34:00.001-05:00

I wrote this letter as an initiative to get parents involved in the spiritual lives of their youth. It included a PDF with talking points.

Parents,

What a night! We had quite the conversation. The attached PDF was written before meeting, so I'd like to address one more point that came up spontaneously. Talking about predestination means talking about the nature of time. Is the future already decided? Or do we have an impact on what the future holds? This is a discussion not even scientists will necessarily agree on. Spiritually speaking, should our religious motives be that of discovering the plans God has for our lives, or rather... take responsibility for the lives we make for ourselves? While the church answer tends to lean towards the former, I would have to say scripture does not so easily explain free will and the consequences of our actions. In Revelation there is a story about all humanity being resurrected. Death, Hades, and the Sea (the sea?) spit out every person that ever lived into this court-room setting. Then, God reads our "books of life." The author describes this scenario as if we have each written a book with our lives. We are authors, whether we realize it or not. Now after reading our books, a larger book is brought out. This "Lamb's Book of Life" holds names in it. Interestingly, if our books write God into them, God writes us into His book. This isn't a story about God's plan. It's a story about our creative ability to write with our lives!

So naturally, your children wanted to know where God's "Will" fits into our lives. If God's will isn't a plan or a treasure map of some sort, what is it? Here's what scripture says. When Jesus is approached by a Teacher of the Law, he is asked "How do I gain eternal life?" Jesus asks this man a question in return. "What do the prophets say?" That Teacher, a knowledgeable man, quickly responds, "Love the Lord your God with all your soul and all your strength and all your mind. And love your neighbor as yourself." Jesus says "yep." (paraphrasing)

Yep? That's it?
Yep.

Jesus keeps it simple. Of course, the Teacher wants to know more. Who is my neighbor? So Jesus tells the story of the Good Samaritan.

It has always fascinated me that the "Will of God" is so simple. Sometimes we can have so much anxiety about finding God's plan for our lives that we forget to love.

"He has told you, O man, what is good;
And what does the LORD require of you
But to do justice, to love kindness,
And to walk humbly with your God?"
Micah 6:8

The Will of God is a WAY we do life. If your child becomes a stay-at-home parent with 13 kids (tax-free!), but loves people and loves God, she is doing the will of God! And if your child moves to Calcutta, India and works hands-on with lepers and dying people? Well, as long as it is done with a loving heart, they are doing the Will of God! God has created us with variety! God seems to like it. God's creative like that.

Maybe somewhere inside you think you should have become someone else. Maybe you even secretly think you're on some kind of divine back-up plan. Don't. Life is life. What you can do, no matter your family situation, is walk humbly with your God. And your children will see that.

Humbly,
Chris A.

Some Dream I'll Get It Right.

2009-09-15T23:38:00.001-05:00

I'm in Nashville and can't sleep. My mind is too alert, my senses startling acute. I keep thinking of last night. I dreamed of John, my dear friend that I lost far too soon. I never lucid dream - I never even know I'm dreaming. But last night I stood staring at my friend, knowing that what I was seeing couldn't be real. "How are you here?" I asked him. "You're dead. I have to be dreaming." I looked around in my dream, expecting to find some hint that I was deep asleep. But I couldn't. There he was. Memories aren't that detailed. He stood there, speaking with me in his oversized grey hoodie and blue Red Sox hat. He needed a haircut, like always. I don't remember our conversation and I hate that. Like always, I was more consumed with my own confusion than the joy of seeing my old friend. Even in my dreams my priorities are lost. I'm sorry. Some dream I'll get it right.

Tangled Lives

2009-09-10T23:53:00.003-05:00

It's been far too long since I've last written. My energies have been consumed by the sheer adjustments of starting a new life. It seems strange writing "new life" - but it's true. I moved out here without family or friends. I took only what fit into my car and left. The last month has had me operating at an incredible capacity - not only adjusting to a new job... but a new community. Names, places, ideas - I've been in high gear. I am impassioned by this life. I am no longer surrounded by the comforts of University life. Theology is a different beast here. Life is different here. Never have I had to rely upon so many people before... or had this many people rely on me. It is a humbling load. I have found myself exercising qualities I never knew I could have. It's a beautiful thing to see yourself grow - to realize you're no longer obsessed with self as you might have once been. Why do we seem to reach our highest points when it is for the sake of others? I have become someone I never knew I could be. Five years ago I was an entirely different person. I wonder what these next five years hold for myself and those near me. I think about the people who helped me reach this place and my chest tightens. I am so grateful for the lives that have become entangled within my own.

My friend Will shared with me a verse that seemed apt. "Because we loved you, we were happy to share not only God's Good News with you, but even our own lives. You had become so dear to us!" (1 Thes 2:8). I have shared my life - as broken and confusing as it may be - with some beautiful, beautiful people.

You are loved. Thank you.

Stride

2009-08-12T23:56:00.001-05:00

When I run, I feel terrible - at least, when I begin to run. I can’t think too much about the goal because it’s so far away. I just focus on my pace - one step at a time.

You can do it, Chris. Come one. One more step.

There comes a point when I hit stride. My mind just zones out. My pace is even and quick. My lungs are full and the repetition comfortable. It is very much like prayer.

But it only lasts so long until I am again aware of the aches in my muscles and kinks in my joints. I trick myself into running the necessary distances by getting myself too far from my starting point. Laps never work because I stop early. But there’s no options when you’re 6 miles from your car. You’ve got to make it back. There’s no quitting early.

My nature, and perhaps all human nature, is akin to this - on a larger scale, of course. My life is busy and turbulent. I’m tired and trying to keep pace - and I’m alone on the trail of life. No one is in sight. I keep moving because this is all I know - the pace is everything.

I know running is good for me. I feel accomplished after I’m done. I like being a runner. I like who I am because I push those boundaries.

But running is hard. Those reasons mean nothing when you’re miserable and soaking wet and hungry and thirsty. And life is just like this. At least for me.

But each run comes to an end. I just need to pace myself.

This isn’t profound. It’s just necessary.

Absolutely Clear

2009-08-09T19:59:00.002-05:00

Don't surrender your lonliness
So quickly.
Let it cut more deep.

Let it ferment and season you
As few humans
Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my eyes so soft,
My voice
So tender,

My need of God
Absolutely
Clear.

~Shams al-Din Hafiz

Dream note.

2009-06-21T16:04:00.003-05:00

I woke up in the middle of the night a few weeks ago and typed out the following note on my phone. I can't remember it at all.

Dream: I was on some barren island filled with kids. I was mourning the death of my ex, and just wanted to see the stars and ponder. They kept grabbing and hurting me and it distracted from the beauty of the scene. I finally climbed a dead palm tree, thorns scratching me and a desperate child clinging to me, only to see blue skies and no stars. I was disappointed and depressed and woke up trying to remember if she had really died...

I can't tell you how bizarre it was to find this on my phone. I suppose I wanted to remember it.

From my journal:

2009-06-17T13:26:00.003-05:00

My most serene, holy moments tend to happen when I'm naked and wet. Water has a cleansing effect on my mind. Nudity, a state which I am rarely found, shows us in our most natural (and vulnerable) selves. It's been quite some time since I last prayed like this, on my knees in the shower, water running down my face. (my cup overflows). In these moments, I have a profound sense of frailty. I am akin to a newborn, vulnerable to the challenges of this new and frightening place.

I doubt I would have these moments had I any consecutive amount of successes. Rather, I find myself fighting for the slightest foothold in life. In my failures I have humility, and in my humility, God. Ah, the famous beatitudes. "Blessed are the poor in spirit" (Matt 5). There is a strange blessing in poverty and loss: In perseverance.

In those holy moments my prayer is simple: That God would give me the determination to continue trying in the face of adversity. I can only hope that this life can be used in some way or form to do good in the world. That's all I want. To help.

My shortcomings weigh me to my knees. I pray, not in eloquent words or tongues, but with swallowed pride. Entitlement is my bane. I will leave this world the way I came into it.

Rant: Your spirituality sucks.

2009-06-07T17:53:00.008-05:00

I had an adult-moment today. A holy moment. An epiphany. Call it whatever you like, I felt something today that I don't believe I've ever felt before. I felt my heart soften. I felt myself feel love - not in an epic hollywood kind of way - but in a way that is small and warm.

Not that I haven't felt love before... but this was a humbling feeling.

I walked up to the altar to receive communion, kneeling next to an elderly woman on my left and an elderly man on my right. I could almost feel their prayers as we waited our turn to take the elements. We ate and drank but the power wasn't in the bread or juice - it was in the line of kneeling people, old and sick and troubled - but full of hope. I walked back to my seat and watched intently as a man on oxygen was wheeled to the front, and where those who could not bend stood and received. I listened, earlier, as they spoke about a woman who had just passed away, and shared prayer requests for health problems and family issues. I was amazed to see dozens of names in the pamphlet asking for a prayer someone might extend on their behalf. Even earlier than that, I sat in a class listening to a dozen or so folks debate the Atheist Manifesto. When they weren't talking about that, they were discussing the newest trends in philanthropy (http://carrotmob.com) and how they could help. The same people who were struggling with disease and finances and death were trying to brainstorm the best possible way they could help people.

After spending two years almost entirely isolated in the college-age environment, I have been stunned to reflect on the differences between these generations. In examining myself, I have realized that the faith I so arrogantly wore is nothing like the faith these people hold dearly to. Everything is different. Take, for example, the comfort they take from God. There's a sense of longsuffering here. My peers have no patience with God - they scream and balk and cry out in despair. They're desperate in their attempts to grope and find God, whether in worship or prayer, or some bizarre set of morals. And they have their health. And they have their youth. Their vitality. But they cry out in desparation to meaningless pop worship that repeats the same lyrics over and over and over....

These words don't do justice and they're not meant as criticism. There's a subtle sort of truth to this reality, but that's the best I can do to describe it. It can be a little bit... crazed. In comparison, these older folk have far greater problems. They're losing retirement funds and health care, dying, losing family members, and fighting off disease. And yet, there seems to be a resigned serenity to their suffering.

Perhaps that's the difference between maturity and naivety.

But I could go on. My peers have causes. They wear them proudly on their feet or on T-shirts, on bumper stickers and macbook covers. We travel and make documentaries... but we don't really do much. We know a lot. But we don't do much about it. We're great advertisers, but poor humanitarians. When a popular cause does seem to catch on, it's often so poorly managed that it squanders the funds it manages to collect on silly things. I know people who do good things because it benefits them. It gives them sex appeal or social ranking, or it even spiritual ranking.

Update:

“Evolutionary psychologists have a cynical term for cooperative, procommunity behaviors like buying a Prius or shopping at Whole Foods or carrying a public-radio tote bag: competitive altruism. Cynical, but accurate. As several studies have shown, altruistic people achieve higher status, and are much more likely to behave altruistically in situations where their actions are public than when they will go unnoticed.”
“Competitive Altruism: Being Green in Public,” TIME

Ok, yes, hymns are boring. But, damn, have you ever read some of those lyrics? There are entire stanzas and poems full of meaning and sorrow and hope and love. Each one tells a story. The stuff I'm used to singing is the same silly theologically-shallow lyrics to the same catchy tune again and again. What has happened? Faith used to be about inner personal strength, but everything I've witnessed in the last two years is... preposterous. It's inane and pompous.

There's an underlying tension among the spirituality of my peers - we've rejected the spiritual and social guidance of those that are older and wiser and now we're suffering for it. How can we expect to learn from each other when we refuse to learn from the generations before us? I mean, do you really expect a 20-something to give you time-tested spiritual advice about the world? There's no truth in that. Go read a book that's not a best seller and go talk to someone that's three times your age. You're dying every second - you might as well learn how to do it gracefully from someone who's been dying a lot longer than you.

Listen. I'm in the same boat. I'm sharing this because I'm pissed it's taken me so long to realize this. You're going to learn lessons the hard way unless you realize you're not anymore special to God than anyone else. Be open-minded enough to hear the great freakin stuff people know. There's so much!

Reading

2009-06-05T21:36:00.002-05:00

I can't begin to tell you how many unfinished books I own. They're packed in boxes and scattered around my room, waiting to be finished someday. It's been like this for years, but I think that just might be changing. When I was in middle school, I had this incurable reading pace. I read all the time. Book after book - I just absorbed whatever literature I could get my hands on. I read everything. Really. Reader's Digest, decades-old National Geographic (I wish I had those still!), book after book from the classroom library... I even got the first volume of some encyclopedia for free. I dreamed of saving up and owning the collection. There was something about the binding - strong and proud - that gave me a sense of profound awe. I read pamphlets on colleges and sample literature my grandmother got in the mail. I'm just now realizing how bizarre of a child I really was.

When I was in 10th grade I began to work at Burger King so I could pay my private school tuition. I would walk 3 miles to and from work most days (even in the winter!), but I don't really remember it being so bad. One day this guy looked over the counter and said, "Hey! You're that kid who walks and reads!" I had developed this ability to read and pay just enough attention to avoid falling or stepping in front of traffic. I was so embarrassed he recognized me!

But then I got a girlfriend and basically was adopted into her family. They ate lavish meals and had cable television. They went to fairs and movie theaters, and within no time at all, I was reading less and less. College came and reading became required. I still managed to read a few books for pleasure, even all those years. Except for the last 2 years. I just overdid it. Too many credits, too many life problems. I stopped reading. I read enough to glean the information I needed to write papers (I'm terribly good at locating information without necessarily reading...), but it frustrated me. I felt like a piece of me was missing. I would fall asleep or get antsy every time I tried to read. But that's slowly changing. I'm falling into these worlds again and it feels wonderful. How is it that characters within a book can seem deeper and more real than people you know? If only I had relationships that could seem as real as these words...

That's all. I just wanted to express this part of myself. Maybe I can be a little more real to you now.

tracing those strands

2009-06-03T21:30:00.004-05:00

It has recently struck me how fleeting our lives truly are. It was last year that death struck near to my heart, but it was a brutal tearing chasm. It left (leaves) me wheeling (still). It came with gasps and shouting and tears. I struggled to function, afraid of sleeping alone - instead sleeping for weeks on friends' couches. I glazed my way through relationships and schoolwork - drove through life like a fog. I hardly remember those few months. But things have slowed down. I've finally come to face the subtle whispers that I've managed to put off for so long. Death awaits - but then I only understood it as both a primal and destructive force that merely steals. There was no thought to the wisp that is life, only that it will be stolen from me and my kin. It was a trick of the eyes - almost like believing your shadow is more real than you. How absurd! In these terms, death is the shadow - waiting in the cracks. It has no life, it has no place. It is merely the outline of something greater than itself. And perhaps that is why it is so very shocking and disturbing. Perhaps the disturbance death brings is less the absence of someone and more the unnatural outline their absence traces in our lives. A shadow without a person - terrifying and evil.

There is a subtlety to this kind of thinking.

I am both relieved and discouraged by the brief lives we have a chance to live. I want to take advantage of every second, but I also realize there is little purpose to what we do exactly. I could be a seminary student, youth pastor, dental hygienist, web designer, intelligence officer, author, foreign english teacher, flight officer. Kierkegaard said possibility was the source of all anxiety. I'm starting to believe him. I could have ended up with any of my previous loves. I could have been a powerlifter or numismatist. But I'm not. I'm wearing masks day in and day out, uselessly trying to find the one that fits just right.

When I was little, I used to view the future like a strand of threads that all traced back to my hands. Each one was a path I could take. I understood from an early age that you could choose to be so many different things! What grieved me more than anything, however, was the loss of those strands. Each day that passed was the death of possibility. Strands were cut with every decision - with every hesitation. I am still that boy, frozen and staring at the strands snapping every second as I try and move - to grasp onto something worthwhile. Sometimes I feel tangled.

Maybe there is a big plan and maybe we all are playing roles cluelessly. But maybe we're all just weaving a huge web of coincidence - where some people are narrowly saved by another's thread - and where others fall through hopelessly into what emptiness lies beneath.

Ritual on the Island

2009-05-27T22:06:00.002-05:00

After spending a week in Miami and a few days in Lakeland, I'm back in St. Augustine. I pulled up to the house just as the sun was beginning to set and found myself strangely peppy. I've been sick and traveling, and haven't run for a while. I just don't get how my body works sometimes. Whether it was the rest or the socialization or the tremendous amounts of food I've been eating, I do not know, but I ran quickly and steadily to and along the beach. Almost 4 and a half miles later I hadn't stopped to rest. It was my finest run in St. Augustine yet. And although I don't plan on being here long, I'll be here long enough to make the best of it. This felt like the start I needed. I felt like the beach and the sky finally accepted my presence on the island, as if I had passed some initiation ritual of the spirit. I've been having trouble finding good running music, but today I ran to beautiful and serene albums - Live recordings of The Album Leaf, Sigur Ros, Arcade Fire, and some String Quartet covers. Not the most inspirational music for a fast-paced run, but great for a clear mind and high spirits.

I had a great weekend. Absolutely great. I'm learning to appreciate the gifts that are placed in our lives - no matter the length of time they might be there. I'm learning how to be the kind of man my friend John was - the kind of man that's driven by something holy.

Holy. I read this last year at John's Funeral.

But what happens when we live God's way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely.
(Gal 5:22-23 - The Message)

The Irony of Free Will

2009-05-19T22:07:00.003-05:00

Anticipation has defined my life these last few weeks. I wake early. I busy myself with work - what I would do for a brainless task to pass the time. I look forward to meals. I think. I think a lot. F0r instance, I'll think about things like the irony of "free will."

I feel very stoic lately. We.. (and by "we," I mean "me" and my personal intrinsic observations and their extrinsic counterparts found in the masses) ...we are primitive in our ability to accurately analyze and master our own primal desires. We are motivated, not of reason or higher purpose, but by simplistic urges.

Eat. Mate. Conquer. Take.

And to add insult to injury, our society encourages when reason is scoffed and emotional fulfillment sought.

Free will is elusive, at best. We are constantly overburdened with prejudices and abuses, learned behaviors and vices. Free will isn't free at all. It's carries with it a heaviness that words cannot accurate portray. It is full of bitterness and irony. Lots of irony. Free will is anything but free. By definition, freedom of choice inherently means choice free from persuasion or consequence. But our choices are anything but - our wills are loaded with preconditioned tendencies and influences outside of our "control."

"Forced Will" is more accurate. It is a choice in spite of insipid consequences or foreboding factors. It is a decision made outside of lethargy or pain - "free" from fear of punishment.

Our history, biology, and social/religious constructs urge us to act, not according to a selfless, angelic (read: non-physical) manner, but to forfeit will and play our roles as pawns bent to some other authority in our lives.

These primal urges are not us! Nor are the spectres that haunt our consciousness - the powers that tempt our "wills" with their tendrils of doubt and self-doubt.

What, then, does it mean to possess this "forced will?" Further, why should one expend the energy to "free" one's will from these tendencies and influences? We, after all, are atoms within some larger body (Originally a Stoic thought, itself).

Perhaps another primitive power drives me: the disdain of being manipulated. Is the human nature so easily tamed? Are we as trainable as dogs? My ideals, wherever they may have been born from, have instilled within me a hope and faith in the human creature. The ancients saw god-like power within us. Jesus himself asked, "are you not gods?" A tremendous power exists within us, hidden away in the deepest of the human creature. If only we could bend ourselves to our own wills. It's no wonder that Socrates believed that death was freedom - it engulfs all but the mind! (And perhaps even that...) C.S. Lewis, upon the death of his wife, pondered the afterlife, not as a place of bliss - but as a place free from human emotion. A place of true free will, where only our truest selves remained.

I was asked tonight what I would do in the next two years if I knew death awaited me exactly 712 days from today. My immediate and sole reaction was the overwhelming desire to pursue the "enlightened" cultures of the world. I would seek out Quaker outposts and Tibetan monasteries, visit Franciscan monks and try to find the old guy from the second Kill Bill. The point being, for as long as humans have existed, there have been people groups that have dedicated themselves to transcending the primitive desires that continue to pull humanity back!

Why do so many of us succumb to our vices and indulgences? Don't we realize the sacrifice that is made when we compromise our decision making ability? We diminish our very "wills!" Are we so weak?

Personal motivation: Learn the art of fasting. Run a marathon. Spend an entire waking day meditating. Practice ownership of the "forced will."

The Dare.

2009-05-15T13:07:00.002-05:00

After browsing through years of old blogs, I realized that very little has changed in my life. True, my scenery has changed, and so have friends and cars and possessions. But, on second thought that's not exactly true. The biggest change in my life has been the slow and steady loss of possessions. I own less today than I have at any point in my adult life. Obviously it hasn't phased me much. Yet reading through my old entries has left me with a sour taste in my mouth. I quickly realized that I'm writing the same things I wrote years ago - again and again. Hundreds of essays with nothing more substantial than a seesaw between philosophical woes and spirited enthusiasm to breaking the normal paradigm of things. If any mental or spiritual progress has been made, it's sluggish at best. I am boring.

The Navy seems, to me, to be a test. It's nowhere near as noble as a test from God (but then who can tell?), but a dare to see if I am really as eager to be challenged as I claim to be.

I am daring myself to act.

We will see.

In the meantime, I have finally found the joy of writing for my own benefit. My writing has always been geared towards an audience of some sort - as if I had something to prove. Yet I found myself recently writing for myself - a pleasant revelation. And an accidental one.

I would rather use this blog to document some of those personal thoughts - as well as the things I learn. We so easily forget information - why not condense the most profound thoughts I encounter here?