All the trees pens! All the oceans ink!

Bon Iver - Bon Iver

2011-06-26T19:46:00.000-07:00

When we last heard from Justin Vernon he was rolling blunts and kickin it with Rick Ross in Hawaii. And before that he was tenderly pouring out his soul onto a knotty wooden floor in a Wisconsin cabin. No matter what situation he finds himself in, Vernon seems to fit seamlessly into the canvass. That is certainly clear on his latest self-titled project as Bon Iver.

The album opens with a track as lush as the cover art and it is clear early that since 2007’s For Emma…, Bon Iver’s music has emerged from the cold winter and is now flourishing. Perth begins with an unassuming electric guitar riff that slowly builds then disappears into a rich, wet background of synth, horns, saxophone, and drums only to resurface stronger and more robust. This will be the hallmark of the record, melodies that surge in and out of a living environment, a jungle of music that grows and evolves as the minutes pass. This is perhaps most evident in Minnesota, WI. Vernon begins by crooning in an uncharacteristic baritone against a shadowy drumbeat which gives way to a backbone of banjo picking that carries the rest of the song. Slipping back into his customary naked falsetto, the vocals then finally melt away over a slide guitar.

Despite the rush of so many new elements, Vernon can still take it back to bare, haunting emotion as he does on Holocene. In a moment of unbearable honesty he states and at once I knew… I was not magnificent followed by the freeing truth that then I could see for miles and miles and miles over a swirling drum and sax. This record is cautiously vibrant and delicately diverse from the roadtrip jam feel of Towers to the dreamy electro of Hinnom, TX. However, like always, Vernon makes everything fit. Nothing seems out of place, and even when you finally make it to Beth/Rest, it makes sense. The closer on Bon Iver has been the subject of much discussion on the blogosphere, as the Hornsby-infused track has proven to be very polarizing. Taken as a single, it seemed it was either an ironically humorous nod to '70s adult contemporary "Yacht Rock," or a too-real-to-be-a-parody head scratcher that was difficult to appreciate. However digested with the rest of the album, it is a welcome finale that flows nicely in the direction Vernon had been headed all along. The seeds sown in Perth are present here, fully grown and verdant.

Bon Iver has undoubtedly matured since the simple beauty of For Emma…. The latest offering shows an artist becoming comfortable in his own skin even as it stretches and changes with time. It is an adventurous record to be sure, but it is a welcome journey and one each listener will have to appreciate on their own terms. There is so much to enjoy on this dense album, so let it unfold and express itself naturally.

Active Child – Curtis Lane EP

2011-02-07T20:28:00.000-08:00

Pat Grossi, better known as Active Child, was raised in church, singing to the heavens in the choir. Now that he’s all grown up, there are no more robes or hymnals but his soaring, airy vocals remain. They penetrate his music and travel upwards, snaking their way to even the highest steeple. Underneath that, Curtis Lane oozes with candied synth melodies sprinkled with claps, smacks, and swooshes. From floating beats and golden harps on She Was a Vision to the stale, lonely chill of Wilderness, there is much diversity to be had on this 6 song EP.

The anchor of this collection is certainly When Your Love Is Safe, a viscous track that drips with sweet electro-pop. The song begins by shimmying down into your ears as Grossi laces his aforementioned falsetto into the beat. Like one would stir in syrup to a milkshake, the vocals finally fold over one another as the track ends, creating a remix of itself. The following track, Take Shelter, also stands out as the music takes a turn down a dark alley. Grossi reassures, however, that if you’re ever on the wrong side of this town / there’s a place that I know of that will hold you down. The descending keyboard melody accentuates the uneasiness until finally we can exhale as a valiant roll of soundwaves sweep through the bleakness.

In only half the volume of a full length, Active Child explores warm vs. numb, vibrance vs. isolation, and hope vs. fear. During all that flux, Grossi somehow creates a very material demention on this EP as the music almost becomes textile in nature. Do not be surprised if Curtis Lane evokes the desire to physically take the music and turn into it like a comforter on a cold winter’s night.

How To Dress Well – Decisions (feat. Yuksel Arslan)

2010-08-23T11:54:00.000-07:00

How To Dress Well (aka Tom Krell) has been busy making legions of free music and casting them off into the blogosphere. Much of HTDW’s catalogue to-date is spectral, barely hovering around your eardrums before evaporating into a sensual mist. Weightless, echoing vocals bob along gaseous beats complemented by ethereal coos, fractions of words often elongated and looped to create their own instrument. The result is mystifying and pleasant, but often hard to grasp, leaving the listener wanting more.

Refreshingly, Decisions is one of the more tangible tracks HTDW has produced. For one, you can actually make out distinct vocals, which bring to mind the gentlest, most vulnerable moments of Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago. At times Decisions evokes the soul of Annie Lennox (via No More I Love You’s) and dances with the rhythm of early Brian McKnight. His lyrics are stretched out like silly putty then glazed over a gravitational drumbeat that is just enough to keep you from floating away. The gorgeous finished product haunts long after the two and a half minutes end.

Internet buzz has created a red carpet for the release of HTDW’s first full-length record, Love Remains, out September 21. According to his blog, Decisions made the cut along with another 13 remastered selections from self-released material. While delicate, abstract droning has its place, let’s hope Krell continues to harness his sound and bring it a little closer to the physical realm, where its more available for our digestion.

Best of Summer Music 2k10

2010-07-29T08:22:00.000-07:00

In my humble opinion... here goes nothing:

1. Sleigh Bells - Treats
Imagine if Underoath and Lil’ Jon had a love child then put it up for adoption. That child was raised by Karen O and Salt N’ Pepa was its babysitter…now you have an idea as to what Sleigh Bells sounds like. It doesn’t really matter what genre it can be filed under, what matters is that Treats is pure Red Bull, boiled down and concentrated. Alexis Krauss’ soft vocals often bubble up over slashing crunchy guitars and slam-your-foot-down beats. She even busts out some slick rhymes on "Kids" that weave in and out of crunk noise like an eel navigating a coral reef. Don’t get me wrong though, Krauss is not the headliner here, its Derek Miller and his musical accompaniment. From wailing guitar riffs on “Riot Rhythm” to a relaxing strum/bell/fingersnap combo on “Rill Rill” the music drives this album. And it will drive it right through your windshield if the volume is high enough (which it should be).

2. Wavves – King of the Beach
King of the Beach sounds like the title of a ‘60s surfer movie, and in some ways that’s what Williams has created here in music form, as there are clear vintage Beach Boys-like melodies and a carefree attitude. But this album is a product of the current era with a gritty lo-fi edge and yea, he sings about playing Nintendo. With less noise and more structure, this album is more accessible than his first offering but Wavves does not lose its loose, party feel. “King of the Beach,” opens up and jumps right in where Williams left off previously with a chunky garage rock sound. It invites the sun to burn our backs as we escape into a sweaty teenage summer jaunt on the coast. The album takes a few slower turns though, and “Baseball Cards” is a synthy, soft number right when you feel like you might need a break from Wavves’ rough edges. “Convertible Balloon” is worth the price of admission here, and might be the song of summer 2k10. It’s poppy jingle is perfect for a windows down drive with your friends to the boardwalk. In “Post Acid,” Williams bellows Im just havin’ fun with you/with you/with you… yea, well we all are Nathan.

3. Local Natives – Gorilla Manor
This album has been in my rotation since before the sweet heat of summer, but it nonetheless deserves its place on this list. If the previous two albums provide sun-baked energy, this one is a respite in the shade. Slinky riffs and gentle drum beats that can bring to mind tribal bongos characterize this album. The band seems to almost be playing in your dreams and will neatly tuck itself into your subconscious. Make no mistake, this is not a light album, but it is smooth. Smooth like a well mixed orange freeze. Each song brings something new to the table from the genuine longing in “Airplanes” where Taylor Rice mourns the death of his grandfather saying I love it all so much/I call/I want you back to the Yeasayer infused funk of “Sun Hands.” An almost sexy guitar riff sneaks into “Cards and Quarters” and the song makes you feel like you really should be lounging with cigar in hand, playing poker at a pool party. The track of the album, however, is “Who Knows Who Cares” which bounces along from the start with a silky rhythm but by the middle when the drums roll in and the guitar drives us home, its almost euphoric.

1, 2, 3, VILLAINS!

2010-07-26T11:25:00.000-07:00

Ive been going through a bit of a dry spell creatively. I haven’t been feeling like I had anything important to say, nothing new or fresh or helpful for anyone. So I decided not to write at all. I was going to post about all that, or maybe some kind of depressing “why don’t I feel useful” entry… then maybe in a great Christian twist I would present the gospel to myself and pep up towards the end because I should only find my worth in Christ who has already revealed I am of great worth… but instead Im going to write about church league softball.

The Trinity Black team (self dubbed: The Villains) has not been the juggernaut I had hoped we would be when I agreed to coach the team in May. With a record of 2-7 headed into the last few weeks of the season, we are far from any kind of playoff push. This season, although “for fun,” has tested my competitive drive and as the coach/manager I wonder what I could have done differently to help us play better early on. I wonder if I should have instituted “mandatory” practices with threats of not playing if you didn’t attend or commanded that everyone put in 3 hours of batting cage time a week, with a signed reciept from Grand Slam Sports. Perhaps that would have made our record better. Perhaps people would have thought I was a good coach. Perhaps my pride could have been fueled.

But even if we had won more games I don’t know if I would have gotten the excitement that I get when a teammate posts “its softball day!” on their gchat status. Yes, perhaps that sounds ridiculous to you… but for me it is the most gratifying feeling. I cant explain it, but I feel like trying.

As a coach, the best feeling is seeing excitement in your players’ eyes when they arrive at the ballpark. To see them want to play. I get more satisfaction showing up at Nickajack and seeing at least 10 members of our team there an hour early to get in extra practice than I do hitting a home run. Viewing the season as more a manager and less a player has made me appreciate team unity and camaraderie more than ever before. Of course, I would absolutely relish in destroying Dark Green tonight, I mean really crush their spirits, but I am so excited to just gather with friends, high five my team and enjoy some summer heat.

I love this Villains squad because even at the bottom of the standings we’re excited to go out and spoil someone’s season by puling an upset every week.

I love that we all still get a Villains cheer before and after every game, and if low morale calls for it, in-between innings.

I love that Elliot has THE BEST chatter ability of anyone in the Trinity league, I’m convinced of this.

I love that Pei-Jean practices her swing during lunch breaks at work.

I love that Beka suggested we all eat together after the first game when we didn’t know each other and we kept that up most every Monday.

I love that I finally can see that winning isn’t everything, and for the first time in my life I can say that with honesty.

Scarcity and Overgrowth...

2010-02-16T07:18:00.000-08:00

This year I will be observing lent.

I have done so before: giving up chocolate, soda, facebook and the like. However my focus has always been on the self-denial aspect of this season. Certainly this is a part of it. When Christ was in the desert, wandering for 40 days he had nothing. His whole life was an act of self-denial, not the least of which was denial of his seat at the Right Hand. But it cannot only be about self sacrifice, for what good is that? There must be a reason behind such sacrifice.

I think that two great things come out of this period of abstinence.

First, preparation. Christ was preparing himself in the wilderness for his ministry. During Lent I think we prepare our hearts to long for the fullness that we will receive at Easter. Of course, we already have the redemption offered by Christ but observing the season and looking forward to celebrating renews our minds and hearts to remember the joy of salvation. Going without meat or coffee or facebook, denying certain pleasures that have undoubtedly been given through us by grace through the Father, make us long for fullness again. We will long for the abundant life that is promised in restoration. I believe that completeness will only be achieved in our Heavenly bodies, but like all observances here in this world, we also may enjoy a shadow of what is to come.

That desire to FB poke that cute girl in Physics class, that taste for a sugar cookie, or that tiredness you may feel by not having your morning coffee: those are all longings for true community, true bread and true awakening. Everything God has blessed us with in this realm is a shadow of something beautiful he is preparing for us in a robust way for us to enjoy for all eternity. Lent is not about giving up things just for the sake of giving up things, or even giving up things so you can find time to pray more. I believe it is to set our minds in a mode to long for Truth. To long for Real things, things that we satisfy on a daily basis with counterfeit coins. Let us set our minds to worship and develop a taste for the treasures promised in Christ and look forward to a celebration.

As I mentioned before, I believe there are two things that come out of this self-denying period. The second of which is celebration. I believe in this time of Lent we can look forward to the feast that will be enjoyed by all at the Great Banquet at the end of this Time here on Earth. A time when all the shadows will be dusted away. And the grass will hurt our feet because it is so real and rainbows will hurt our eyes because they are so bright and one bite of a pomegranite will saturate us because it is so sweet. Oh, what a celebration that will be!

Also, in less grand fashion we may celebrate here in this physical body with our friends and family coming out of Lent. It all pours into itself: shaking off the burden of self-denial, enjoying the pleasures we have been without, celebrating Christ being rasied from the dead, and in turn celebrating what that means for us. It means all these things we have been longing for throughout Lent are gladly given back in abundance. It means that Christ has already given up enough so that we may reap the rewards.

As I grow older in my faith I have come to see so much I have been taught in religion is that there are things God wants to strip from us. Basically I viewed Lent as let us give up our pleasure, pray a lot, and then we will be holy. But I do not think Lent is that. God opertaes in fullness and in exuberant richness. We will give up our pleasures to wait for them. We will wait and prepare. Then when the time is right, we will feast and celebrate and what a wonderful time it will be! The Father wants us to enjoy this life, and he has belssed us with good chocolate, laughter, video games, and diet cokes. These are things that we may enjoy.

A deep, dark beer and tobacco pipe savoured among friends will be all the more lovely since we've missed it for 40 days.

Let us focus our eyes on True pleasures during this season of Lent and look forward to the celebration that is to come.

LESPWA

2010-01-18T15:19:00.000-08:00

Short and Sweet:

Lespwa is my friends' nonprofit with the orphanage. Click to know what they are about and/or to donate.

As of now they need tremendous amounts of acute monetary support. Messailler (where the orphanage is) is currently a place of shelter for the people fleeing Port Au Prince. Lespwa is in a unique position to support Messailler and be a place of calm refuge in a time of chaos. The compound has already served as a makeshift medical clinic and boarding house since the earthquake. They will need continued prayers and support in the days to come.

LESPWA

Are you kidding me?

2010-01-18T11:24:00.000-08:00

Those were the words I uttered upon hearing of the devastation in Haiti last Tuesday. This is a place that has captured my heart and mind as evidenced by the four previous posts. I was just in Port Au Prince not three weeks ago. My friends were still living there not five days ago. I have been overwhelmed this past week as to what to do.

I have come to realize that all I can do is pray, currently. I cannot physically be there, but the Father is there. I have also found it useful to stay updated in the goings on through friends' first person accounts, emails, and news sources. Hopefully when the time is right and an opportunity arises, I will be able to mobilize quickly and be used in a tangible way.

I do not think it will be useful to recap things that have happened, that can be done by reading Jay and Diana's blog or Jeremy's blog, which are linked on the sidebar to your left. I have also chosen a few articles that have been of interest to me and linked them below.

I urge you to let your heart ache if necessary, pray in abundance, give if you can, and go if you are called.

200,000+

This is not Katrina

Aftermath, Disease, and Water

Future Rebuilding Considerations

Rescue Stories

Haiti, pt. 4: TIH

2010-01-07T11:41:00.000-08:00

There is almost too much to say about Haiti. There are ideas huddled beside feelings and concerns piggybacking resolutions spinning around emotions. It is all very overwhelming. The improvement projects needed branch off into a forest of tasks and the root system of all the problems seen in Haiti is no less complex.

From day one, Haiti is impossible. Everything about Haiti seems broken. Everything: government, sanitation, spiritual climate, community, courtesy, patience, agriculture, zoning, education…and the list goes on.

As a rich white intruder I want to clean it all up in a week long volunteer effort to put on my resume. This of course, is impossible. But, even so, I think with enough time and effort, Yes We Can!We can come in and clean up this sin drenched place. I find that this attitude yields so many problems, though. The first question must be asked: do they need to be “rescued”? Well clearly this place is not living in perfection, it is far removed from the Garden. However the next question is what does it need? Does it need “our way?” The American system is also ripe with injustice and sin….it just smells better.

The real hopelessness blooms, when, sitting and talking about all there is to Haiti, one realizes that even the solutions have problems. Progress, as so valued by us, has so many ornate trapdoors.

For instance: dropping shoes from a plane to distribute to the Haitians will protect and cover the children’s feet from the jagged rocks of the landscape (but will it also take jobs from local shoemakers, creating…more poverty?) Surely some initiatives like a nationwide trash collection or sex education are paces to start, but those are far too massive for me to feel like I can even consider! And even if those things were started, the long term effects of what those projects could turn into remain unknown. There are many caveats to progress.

Progress unleashed without a moral barometer can be utterly devastating and create situations worse than were present before. Just look around you, inquire into the food industry, inquire into the clothing industry. The consequences of unbridled advancement in the name of progress are all around us. This was one of the problems that kept coming up in late night ponderings. To improve or help Haiti always was paired with the system being polluted or taken advantage of or done in the wrong way to produce a different, sometimes more complex problem. It all seems so hopeless.

So, what shall we say now?

I was encouraged after reading an article in the latest issue of The Economist*. All these thoughts on what to do about Haiti had been weighing on me since I touched down in Port Au Prince, and this article reinforced the confusion at first: it discussed the fragile balance between progress and destruction. This concept had been debated countless times over the week at the orphanage. We would wax on our ideal visions of Haiti, then others would point out how that wouldn’t work for one reason or another. The term “be realistic” was thrown around a lot, and not angrily, but gently and often with a depressing sigh.

In the Economist article, philosopher Susan Neiman wrote that “every time someone tells you to ‘be realistic’ they are asking you to compromise your ideals.” I found this to be extremely interesting and remarkably accurate. But ideals are hard, and I learned this week they seem too grand to actually be possible. The encouragement lies with what Neiman says next: your ideals will never be met completely, but sometimes, however imperfectly, you can make progress. She writes that often we create a false idea that a choice must be made between Utopia and degeneracy. Neiman argues that this is not true and that moral progress is neither guaranteed nor hopeless.

I think her conclusion was a more eloquent version of what I had been musing towards the end of the trip: We can only try to resolve or nurture what we see set before us today.

Operating with love and compassion we can only take small steps forward on an immediate and daily basis. Of course, we must constantly recheck our motives, goals and hearts to be sure they are consistent with our original intention. Haiti cannot be saved in a day, but small, consistent efforts of love over a long period of time is how it will be done. We may never live to see full healing in our physical condition, but that timing does not matter.

I belive this concept becomes even more hopeful and beautiful under the grace offered through Christ. The hope of Haiti lies not wth us, and our hope lies not with helping Haiti. Rather, the hope of both parties rests with Christ. We can be vessels of change, but ultimately our efforts will be kinked and skewed with sin. Thankfully, He is the hope of all things. One day He will do more than make progress, He will restore to perfection. And until then, His enduring grace will fill in the cracks when we inevitably take a wrong turn or make a mistake while trying to do His work.

* I dont want to give false impressions of grandeur here, this is not normal reading material for me. That was the first time I had even picked up The Economist. The cover article "Progress and its Perils" caught my eye in the airport.

Haiti, pt. 3: Ki jan ou rele?

2010-01-01T07:30:00.000-08:00

There are few things as beautiful as when a little one remembers your name. And comes running.

It is such a surprise that they remember, such a sweet acknowledgement that you have connected with them.

Upon arriving in Haiti, there were children that called out “Luke!” and “Alex!” and “Diana!” I knew they were remembered because they’ve been there before, or because they lived at the orphanage. But I must admit I was jealous. I wanted to walk up to a group of kids and have just one of them remember that I had thrown them in the air the day before, or spun them around, or carried them on my shoulders. Gloriously, this happened with three children while I was in Haiti.

Waldo – He caught my eye because he was wearing a Gators jersey. He was also the only child to list his full name when asked: Waldo Douswali. He loved to be picked up but he didn’t like the insanity of throws, spins and falls like the other boys. Waldo was content with just having his hand held or sitting in your arms. He loved to do the Gator chomp and say “Go Gators!” Or at least he seemed to think it was a fun thing I taught him.

Waldo was a village kid, but he was not a fixture at the compound like other villagers. I only saw him on two days, at Vacation Bible School, then he disappeared into the wilderness of Haiti. But I will always remember him running out on to the playground, amidst a field of wild banshees, headed right at me and saying “Aiiiii Geeee!”

And I picked him up and hugged him.

Gimsley – With goofy teeth too big for his head and an insatiable appetite for spins, Gimsley was quite a character. He is one of the orphans that lives within the walls of the compound, loved and cared for on a daily basis. His smile showed so much more contentment and safety than many of the other kids we saw that week. It is clear that Gimsley’s heart has been softened while at the orphanage.

Unfortunately, he has an iron-tight stomach and demanded to be spun around at all times. Over the course of a week, he singlehandedly made me more nauseous than all the burning garbage on the plains and the sewage flowing in the rivers. When not being twirled about, he demanded to be hoisted up upon my shoulders. Gimsley was a guy who liked the high life.

Walking over to the orphanage one afternoon with Luke and Katie, Gimsley came around the corner. He immediately started running at me. He exclaimed “AY JAY” and, of course, once he was right in front of me he said potem, meaning “hold me.” Soon he was back up on my shoulders as we headed to the makeshift soccer field.

I cannot wait to go back and spin him around until we both collapse.

Nadine - She came up to me one day on our first walk through the village. It was a sneak attack as she ran up behind me and slipped her little hand into mine and looked up, hopeful. This was the beginning of a strained and heartbreaking relationship.

She kept motioning to her throat and saying something in Creole. Over and over again I looked down, unable to respond because I didn’t know what she was saying. Then she patted her stomach, then she patted mine. Then she pointed to her mouth and said that word again. All I could do in response was shrug and put her up on my shoulders.

I learned later that Nadine was a village kid, she did not attend school nor was she an orphan. In fact, her parents are voodoo clergy. I also learned that she was telling me she was hungry, apparently she always says she is hungry, even when in the process of eating.

She has an odd way about her: very touchy, but not in a sweet way, odd and almost inappropriate. Touchy in a way that hints she knows what she’s doing. She can’t be more than 10. I don’t know what she has been taught or what life has shown her to create this behavior. I long for her to discover a more beautiful way.

Nadine became a representation of my hardest reality in Haiti. She was the village at large, the people untouched by the safe walls of the mission, the hopeless ones. She didn’t get the presents handed to the orphans or the snacks given to the school children at the Christmas party. We did, however, acquire a plate of popcorn and cheez puffs for her one afternoon (which she ate half and stuffed half in her pockets) and I gave her a half-liter of lemonade (which she downed in literally 5 seconds). But who will love Nadine after we leave? Who will remember about Nadine?

She remembered me, she called out my name, and it broke my heart.

Haiti, pt. 2: Chita!

2009-12-29T06:24:00.000-08:00

I stood with a bowl of cookies on my head surrounded by hungry Haitian children pulling at my shorts, tugging on my shirt and slapping my stomach. The torn paper plates had been abandoned for withered hands, palms up. They begged and shoved, all vying for one more cookie. They promised to be my best friend. Zanmi mwen they said, while grunting and huffing out other words in Creole.

The thing is, I had the cookies. After giving them all the allotted two, we had nearly half a bowl left. And this was a big bowl. A quick guesstimate ensured that I had enough for at least one more per child. But in the mele there was no way to know who had gotten the extra one and who had not. Flashes of white eyes, crooked teeth and clawing hands dissolved into a sea of ebony. Some smiled and asked sweetly, some pounded my body with tiny fists to get their story told. Sometimes they all seemed to form one huge organism with one hundred hands reaching out for a Tempo coconut flavored cookie.

In the madness, Kyle came up to me with a handful of cookies, followed by a mob trying to pry them from his hands. "This is crazy, we gotta get out," he said.* Partly brokenhearted and partly relived that he too thought it had gotten out of control, I nodded. He dropped the loot in the bowl upon my head and we made our way out of the church, children following behind. The older boys called out to me as I left. Either laughing at my failure to deliver a simple snack or possibly pleading for another cookie themselves.

It had started innocently enough, after snack time the 5 or 6 kids nearest to me asked for more. Their little paper plates were creased and crumpled and I knew they probably hadn't eaten since VBS the day before. I could not look at them and then look at all the cookies and say no. Asking another inexperienced friend, we agreed that this was a good plan to quietly, systematically give out some more.

I erred on many accounts:

1) That I could explain they get one more each, and that would be it (but I dont speak Creole)

2) That I could reason with them if they still wanted more (but they were ages 4-10 mostly)

3) That they would assemble and politely take one more each (but...yea. nope.)

So after handing out a few precious cakes of flour and sugar, eyes began to dart to the corner of the room where I was standing. Things grew exponentially more chaotic, like when the critical Jenga piece is pulled from the tower. It was soon clear there would be no rules, no instructions and no rationale. It killed me that I could not continue to give. It was hard to know how much to endure before withdrawing mercy.

My heart longed to give them what they needed, to give out all the cookies in the world to them. The children made it impossible to love them fully. I wanted to make sure everyone got more, but I had no way to do so without multiple people stepping on others and squeezing out the less capable. At some point, we had to shut down the operation.

I wonder if God views us in this way sometimes...wanting to give out mercy and grace in abundance but in some spiritual fashion, similar or not, we make it so difficult for that to happen.

*In order to not taint Kyle's good name, I wanted to clarify that he is a broguy with much more toughness and steadfastness than I. He would be the last one in the world to retreat in a situaion like that. Those that know Kyle can appreciate just how out-of-control it must have been for him to think it was crazy. This is why I was somewhat relieved when he admitted the level of insanity...just so I knew I wasnt overreacting to the chaos. Kyle, love you bud.

Haiti, pt. 1: Dont blink...

2009-12-26T06:25:00.000-08:00

Haiti hits you like a wave, baptizing you in a world far removed from what is normal. The sliding glass doors of the airport open to unleash hundreds of locals bustling about like fireants once thier hill is disrupted. They are calling, pointing, running, grabbing, motioning, and desperate for your attention.

Haiti smells like burning. Port Au Prince is saturated in smoke and dust. It is hard to distinguish garbage from belongings. Honestly, it just looks like a war zone. Everything is dirt and rocks and yelling. There is a fire somewhere, I cant see it but it must be all around me. Trucks not fit for American junkyards motor by, often with Haitians standing in the bed pointing and yelling in Creole.

My 97 pounds of luggage is not moving easily over the Haitian terrain, it is used to paved walkways and bellhops with a gentle touch. As a man in white maneuvers us around vehicles and honking horns, I notice one of my comrades is lagging behind. We trade bags since at least mine has wheels, and then its back to the comotion. Everything is frantic, every moment crucial.

Seeing Jeremy and Kyle's faces amongst the crowd was a most welcome sight, but there was no time for reunions. A quick fist bump with Jeremy, hand one bag over to Kyle and keep moving. Thirty-something people had to be herded to safety so their eyes remained locked past me to the group members in tow.

Finally we were congregated at an old school bus, hugs were accepted and arms rested on shoulders. Money was doled out to the man in white who valiantly stopped traffic for us. His chivalry gone, he now demanded more money. Jeremy stood his ground though, and he got no more than the predetermined amount. This would be a characteristic very important in Haiti: firmness.

As the bus pulled off into the haze, Haitians were running alongside asking for something, anything. We drove by makeshift street vendors, abandoned buildings, and one giant sculpture of the world with Haiti at its center. Jeremy stood up and welcomed us to Haiti, his voice tired and shaky from sickness and 3 months of living in this madness.

In the peace after we left Port Au Prince, mountains rose up against a quickly darkening sky as the old bus motor droned along. Fires sprinked the countryside, glowing with warning and Jeremy's words echoed in my head: Haiti is crazy. Haiti is unpredictable. Haiti is crunpredictable.

Creole for dummies...

2009-11-20T06:21:00.000-08:00

Im going to Haiti in December.

This excites me to no end. In three weeks I will need to get some shots, get a case of Malarone, and more importantly, prepare my heart to be taken away. To be attached to a great sail caught by a wind of compassion and carried to some far off place. A place where my desires and my goals are put to death and all control is sacrificed on the great stone table.

Control.

I have come to realize that control is the greatest hinderance to my ability to do the things i feel in my heart. Things I think I want to do...

I have long been in favor of going overseas, for a long period of time, removing my comfortable upper middle class cushions, and helping the least of these. Like, actually living in a place...not just a trip.

I am not scared about sleeping in uncomfortable spots (Ive slept on couches for months at a time), I am not afraid of being dirty or not having regular hygiene luxuries (I shower once a day, but its more to wake up than to get clean), I am slightly fearful of violence...however that is minor (I could be assaulted in my neighborhood on any given night).

My biggest fear is losing control of my own life. Control to have a good job. Control to find a wife. Control to make and enjoy friends. Control of my future.

How will I meet my dream girl if I just move to Haiti? What kind of job will be available if/when I ever come back? What if I dont like the people I am bunking with? How can I find a good organization, with "cool" people I will enjoy? These are all the areas of control I fear losing.

The funny thing is, I do not have any control now. Ive never had control, but I do enjoy a nice little illusion of control. So essentially, I am fearful of giving up my illusion of control in life. That is the biggest hurdle for me to chase my passions. Pretty ridiculous huh?

Back to Haiti.

I have been reading the blogs of my friends, who are in Haiti. The people already living there and the group I will be going with is truly a collection of bright and beautiful people whom I love. I have daydreamed about going down there and staying there. I probably wont do that.

However, my heart is certainly in a transitional place right now. I pray that my eyes would be wide open and willing to see what God sees. Willing to see the broken places and that my soul would burn for love of the people I see there. And I would feel a need to act on my emotions and feelings while I am there.

Who knows what coals and embers this upcoming trip will stir up in my heart? But my main desire is that I will not let my desires and my plans come in the way of a call that I may feel.

Because I am a terrible leader for my own life. I shouldnt be in control anyway.

Oh, wait...Im not. I just think I am.

Scribbles and dots...

2009-10-28T10:33:00.001-07:00

Art is freedom.

I used to feel that art was constraining.

If I was to draw a picture it had to look like the real thing. If I was to take a photo, it had to be perfectly framed and make sense. This must have stemmed from my elementary art classes where paste had to be conserved and paints should not be mixed.

Someone once told me that if you're going to create art, you cant be afraid to make mistakes.

I love this idea.

Sure, perhaps that picture is fuzzy, but it captures the feel of the moment. That story doesnt come to a conclusion...yes but it may just be a small snapshot of life, and sometimes in life conclusions are not made. It is the ultimate frustration, but oftentimes conclusions are miles and miles away: soaking in some rays on some tropical beach, sipping martinis while we are freezing in the rain, huddled up in some alley.

2009 has been a year where I have felt a bubbling of creativity, spouting up from places I knew it might be residing and from some places I had no idea it was there. There have been some key participants in my life that have seemingly unlocked this discipline in me. And it has been exhilarating.

But the most freeing thing is that I have come to love art and expression as a place with no rules: it can make perfect sense and come together or it can be completely nonsensical and just be.

I am so grateful for an outlet to just create something planned and poignant or perhaps to just throw some abstract concept that may have been floating around in my head down on paper. That is the beauty, it is ultimate freedom to just do. Do something that makes you satisfied.

Create for the sake of creativity.

I just really appreciate that. I love that you don't have to be good or smart or calculated to create something. Just go for it. Don't be afraid to make no sense. Everything can have its place and should be appreciated for what it is. I actually think we go wrong when we actually try hard to make it too good.

When trying too hard comes off in art I think it leaves a bad taste in the observer's mouth. The artist shouldn't have anything to prove to people. Therefore, don't try to. Just go, go, go.

Its as if we need to take off the parking brake and just let our minds roll down the hill, gaining speed and not stopping for anything.

I want to encourage creativity because it has been a huge outlet and a place to enter into worship for me. I am thankful for a creative God who literally speaks and creates. And I am thankful that he allows us to jump in there and make our own creations.

However grand or slight they may be.

A day's prologue...

2009-10-21T14:36:00.000-07:00

I love hanging out in the morning.

And I don’t mean getting up and getting dressed and meeting a girl-thats-a-friend-but-maybe-im-interested-in for coffee. I mean groggy, smelly, bed-hair, pajamas hanging out. When the day is just beginning and you and friends just sit around, nod at one another, and wait to peel the layers of sleep off your brain.

There is a feeling of nakedness or vulnerability when one awakes. No one is dressed up, everyone is at their most disheveled. And yet, no one cares. There is just something about the morning that brings calm agreement among friends.

It only happens on rare occasions: a sleepover, a group trip, if all the roommates happen to be home in the morning.

The latter happened today.

This week I’m working an odd 12:30-9pm shift at work, which is somewhat unfortunate, but it affords me that precious morning laziness that I have missed since college. I stumbled down the stairs and made my way haphazardly to the kitchen, pushing the wandering coffee table out of the way and throwing some newspapers on the couch.

As the sunlight snuck in through the window, Robert was his chirpy self already dressed for the day in smooth plaid and pants. He was making coffee and doing dishes. I was thankful for his diligence and productivity at 9am.

I like to ease into my day (except when I go to work) as if I am wading into a cool lake, when you suck in your stomach to brace against the water.

Then Bradley came in, much like a bear emerging from a winter’s hibernation. I was thankful for this too, because it made me feel more comfortable for being a slow mover.

We drank coffee and I made cheese eggs and for twenty minutes we just sat and breathed in the day.

And I realized how thankful I am for so many different people in my life: people that drive me. people that comfort. people that are different. people that are the same. people that challenge. people that calm. people that laugh. people that hug. people that dance. people that color. people that cry. people that make me cry. people that make my stomach jump. people that make my head hurt. people that confound. people that make perfect sense.

I am grateful for all the puzzle pieces that come together to make up my life.

You are loved.

Stopping to smell...

2009-10-07T14:15:00.000-07:00

I had the day off today. Random weekdays off are truly a blessing. Weekends are nice, but they are planned…and there’s shows to go to, bars to hop, friends to see. Saturday and Sunday become as jammed or more jammed than even our stress-filled workdays.

But today was just a lazy, no-name, indifferent, Wednesday. I awoke at 10 with no plans and nothing pressing on my docket. It was as relaxed as I have been in a while. I inhaled the first breath of morning and eventually slid off the mattress in no real hurry. After sitting around for a while, the initial order of business was a roommate bike ride to the post office. It was a simple and organic venture: old transportation taking us to an increasingly archaic medium for exchanging ideas.

There is something about walking or biking through a cityscape. It is more real, everything is more defined. You are on the ground floor. You see things at eye level. You are immediately more involved with everything around you.

Whisking around corners, we nodded or smiled at everyone in our vicinity…had we been driving, not so much as eye contact would have been made. Also, on a whim, we stopped at the coffee shoppe and saw a friend who just happened to be working. In a car, I would have driven by, not wanting to find a parking spot, turn off the car and all that.

We then helped a man push his car out of an intersection so he could get a jump. I felt the compulsion to help because I was in the city. I was on the same playing field as this guy, who was clearly in a bind. Had I been in a car, I may have felt bad, but hey whatta my gonna do? Green light: time to move on. With the soles of my shoe wet with the leftovernight’s rain and the sticky sweat on my back, I was in this situation with him. There was nothing else to do but offer a simple push.

Then, at 11:40, Robert suggested we go to mid-day prayer at church. This is something I had wanted to do for a while, but of course, I’m never off on Wednesdays. So we hopped on our bikes and headed home to trade in two wheels for four, since highway travel was imminent.

The sanctuary was virtually deserted, but we were early, and by 12:15 maybe about 12 people were spread out among the first 4 rows. There was no band, no pomp and circumstance, just a dozen bodies there to think about our Creator. It was so intimate and so real. There were no motives for anyone to be there other than meditation and prayer. No cool clothes to impress that girl in row seven, no plans to see who is eating where after the service…just people there because it is refreshing to take a respite and be still amidst our hectic lives.

The service was so quiet and beautiful. Only a few scriptures were read and a brief homily was given. My favorite parts were silent confession and then a sharing of the peace. And for once, I was not nervous or afraid to turn around and shake hands and say “peace be with you, brother/sister.”

Now, I am typically an outgoing person, and I like meeting people. But for some reason the sharing of the peace always makes me nervous. I don’t know why, maybe I feel I have to strike up a conversation or I’m nervous about getting the “dead fish” handshake. But today was something different entirely. We had all just confessed our unholiness through prayer silently and then in unison. And, in the light of the forgiveness already bestowed on us, we shared the good news of peace with one another. It was a lovely, holy time between just a small number of people. But we all knew why we were there. I sensed a feeling of unity in that moment that is lost in big groups. It was pure and it was safe.

It gave me the feeling that we were in an ancient monastery and were all family and had been family for ages. That we all knew and loved one another fully. Each embrace and handshake was warm and fulfilling. I could almost smell the spirit of God in that place.

I would love to take that 30 minutes every Wednesday, or every day for that matter, and share that time with other Lovers. It was an oasis. Alas, life is sure to get in the way…probably in the form of my boss never giving me another Wednesday off.

But I had a taste of simplicity and a feeling of home that I haven’t felt in a long time.

It makes me long for my original home.

come quickly.

Let's roast some corn...

2009-09-26T18:40:00.000-07:00

There are some things that are just inexplicable. One is why someone would try to open a bathroom door, find it locked, then knock. You already know it's locked… how is that knock going to change anything? I refuse to acknowledge the knock, they know I'm in there.

Change is also something that is often unexplainable. It just creeps in like a kitten and before you know it a tiger is curled up on your couch.

Why do we hear a song for months and almost always hit “repeat” once…or twice? Then one day, the hooks aren’t as catchy, the lyrics seem stale, and its about one minute, twelve seconds too long. It happens. But why? Is it so we can store up a new favourite song somewhere in our temporal lobe? It is just because the synapses got tired of reacting the same way over and over and over again? Or is there just no reason at all. It just is.

The seasons change, although we typically see it coming, and can prepare for it. But honestly…why do they have to change? Why can’t it just be 78 and sunny with a light cloud cover and a sweet breeze all the time? Ok, we can even allow a soft shower at 4:24pm every day for the plants. But no…that’s not how it happens here. Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter come and go, always changing. Apparently, as my roommate pointed out, Autumn is upon us, as recently as yesterday. This means change is nigh.

Trade in the flip flops I have gotten accustomed to for closed shoes.

Substitute airy tee shirts for scratchy cardigans.

But what if I chose to embrace the crisp air, the burnt leaves, and the smell of cider? Instead of looking back and missing summer, I can venture out into the unknown of fall. Maybe grow a beard to shield the winds or sharpen my pumpkin carving skills.

Change does not have to be bad, it just must be accepted. All we can do as this wild world rushes by is be still and enjoy where we are, even if its in a completely new environment than we were in yesterday.

There is no sense in worrying about why things are not as they were, or what they will be like tomorrow. For now, Im going to whip out my pocket knife, pick up a knotty branch, sit in a rocking chair and whittle for a little bit.

It seems like the best way to enjoy this fresh, unfamiliar season I find myself in.

When the bulb dims...

2009-08-15T13:11:00.000-07:00

What happens in the time between when an idea is thought up and that idea is put into action... rather, not put into action.

Why is there such a tendency to not move? Moving requires energy. Therefore, I suppose it is easier to not move. By moving I mean acting, in any way. Changing. Loving. Anything more than just being.

I have a terrible habit of merely existing. The worst part of that is that time continues to go along- cells replicate, atoms crash into one another- and I slowly depreciate. The present me is still the past me that I thought would, by now, be the future me. Aspirations are still aspirations, not reality.

I let ideas marinate until they are a smelly, foul mess that never happened. Why am I so content with what I currently have? Im alright, Im good as is. Sure, I have all these ideas that I think I can impress people with, win people over with. I can sound so progressive and smart if I want to.

And perhaps sometimes, I can trick people into thinking Im very cool. However, at the end of it all... it seems that I just speak well. I can sound like I am going somewhere, but Ill prolly just end up staying right where I am. I didnt even want to use the energy to type out probably.

Back to my original thought: What happens to potential? When an idea is formed it has potential energy [eat your heart out DarDrone, if you're reading]. The potential to improve or destroy. The potential to explode, to heal, to change. That idea can do so many things. Yet what makes it fizzle out before it ever does anything?

I want to write a book with 3 of my best friends.

I want to go places.

I want to desire Christ like I say I want to.

I want to blog (ok, I finally did this; only took a year)

I want to be artistic.

I want to think of myself last in all situations.

I want to explore.

I want to be more gentle.

I want to ride my bike more.

I want to make a video.

I want to pursure relationships with those around me.

I want to read about 64 books (and that is just the current list).

But I will probably just end up hanging out here for a while longer. Hopefully until all those things dont feel quite as pressing or important. Then I will be free of my convictions and just being here will be enough.

Some people I know might think it's an asset to be relaxed and easy going. And, frankly, people who seem discontent and always striving for more annoy me.

Its like what is the big deal?

But I see why it's a big deal to do things. It is a very big deal to overcome that time in between. It is a tremendous accomplishment, and it requires energy, planning, and effort. A perfect example occurs nearly every weekday in my life:

1. I want to make the sandwich to eat for lunch so i dont have to eat (and spend money) in the cafeteria. I will do this in the morning.
The idea is hatched, the possibilities endless! The potential of turkey, ham, roast beef! Mayonaise, lettuce... oh the joy!

2. I go to sleep
The idea could grow into reality... or will it die? This is the hard part.

3. I wake up, I need to shower, get dressed, find matching socks... now that sandwich doesnt seem so important. Swiping my badge and getting a "hot entree" doesnt seem so bad. I can not smell the smoked turkey anymore, or feel the soft wheat bread I once was excited about. The door slams, the lunch meat is still in the refrigerator and I clip my badge to my pants.
What happend!??!?! Wait! No! Really? You couldnt just put in a little more effort to make. a. sandwich? Are you that lazy? Taking the easy way out? Sad.

The consequences of a sandwich/not sandwich are only about $0.35. But this phenomenon infects many other places. And consequences in those areas are far more devastating.

And now I have learned this about myself. I want to change it. I dont want to only muse about things, but I want to be a doer. a seeker. a changer.

The idea is hatched...

Under Construction

2008-11-02T20:09:00.001-08:00

Due to the overwhelming challenges presented to me by my job, this blog should be considered on hiatus...maybe until summer '09

Through the keyhole...

2008-09-13T11:11:00.000-07:00

This is an account on the events that took place between approximately 5:31 and 6:27pm on September the 10^th 2008.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I arrived home from work tired and uninspired but faithfully shed my corporate skin and threw on some gym shorts and t shirt. Clipped my iPod to my shorts, put on some shades and transported my bike, Winnie, down under the bridge. It was there that I mounted my steed and began peddling for as far as my legs would take me. As soon as I started, my legs began to sting from fatigue. I was incredulous to the concept that I would be tired so quickly! I persevered through the initial discomfort. Soon enough, the greatness that is M83’s Before The Dawn Heals Us album, took over. The soaring melodies and euphoric choruses got me to mile 2. After the second mile, I began to think that this decision to bike was a mistake. My legs burned with the energy of a thousand suns, my heart thumped out of my ribcage, and my lungs tried to search for oxygen but found none. I did not want to continue.

After a quick stretch and regrouping, I continued on my quest. This time the work didn’t seem so bad, and my body started working in concert with the bicycle, making beautiful music and flowing toward a common goal. Before I knew it I was back under the bridge, yet the album was reaching a crescendo and my body actually requested more motion. So I zipped past my waiting car and continued into uncharted territory.

Oh, the glory!

I found myself on a path surrounded by wooded trees and the light of the sun which cast an amber glow on every leaf and trunk. The album playing in my ears somehow knew my environment and would reach a delicate, flowing harmony, almost as if I was in a dreamscape. At some points it even felt like I was in a liquid sea of trees, everything just drifted effortlessly along. Then in an instant I would come to a break in the forestry and burst into full daylight, cars, sidewalks, and people! It invigorated me! And inexplicably, my music would follow suit with a pulsing, energetic exclamation as I whizzed through the commotion. Along the journey I saw flowing waters, streets, great walls of ivy, people, shady canopies of trees, guardrails, dense pockets of forest and even a boardwalk of sorts. It was exhilarating. I never felt pain after the initial twinge, and just enjoyed being surrounded by creation. The ride lasted about 56 minutes, give or take. And it was literally one of the great experiences in my short life. I cant explain it fully, but everything just fit. It was incredible. As a cool down I stepped into the Chatahootchie and breathed deep cool air coming from the waters. As some geese waded up stream, I felt as if I was created to be right there at that very moment doing exactly what I was doing. It was peaceful, loud, calm, and exciting all at once. Perhaps, our Creator gives us glimpses of perfection in this broken world, a shred of what he intended when he formed it all from nothing. Oh, praise Him! Praise Him for He is worthy of everything. For He has brought about all that is perfect. He will make this all new, He will make it all as it should be. Speed thy coming, Lord! Charge like a fierce wind into this world and heal us. He truly has a wondrous vision for us. He must.

Omnivoritey...

2008-08-18T19:56:00.001-07:00

As I was in the middle of dining during the latter part of my 16 hour workday, my mind began to wander. I took a bite of my cafeteria entrée and realized theres fine dining, fast food, ramen noodles, and then theres cafeteria food. This post will take a look at the darker side of nutrition where yesterday’s special becomes today’s “cream of” soup. Come, venture on a walk with me, through the dark narrow hallways of mass produced trays of meat and sauce. Welcome...to the Omnivoriety.

Tonight’s menu: Diet Coke, Beef Quesadilla, Make-Your-Own salad

First: the best part of the meal, the Diet Coke ($0.52). It went splashing down like rapids of carbonation tickling my esophagus. A delightful compliment to any meal, the Diet Coke had almost perfect blend of the soda water and syrup. My complaint lies with the cup, as the thin, clear plastic didn’t do much to protect my hand from the icy beverage, nor to insulate said beverage.

For my main fare, I chose the grill item of the day, a beef quesadilla ($3.30). The portion was relatively small, Ive made bigger quesadillas for less money in my kitchen, but with the employee discount it probably evens out. The dish was started with a flour tortilla slathered with oil and lightly grilled, enough to heat the oil but not crisp the edges. Then some sort of SPAM substitute was pulled out of a pan and warmed on the grill. Upon tasting, this beef seemed more like a leftover, reheated Whopper rather than mexican steak. Even Moe’s gives more effort. The grey, crumbly meat/tortilla roll was complimented with sour cream, which along with the grease, helped it slip-n-slide down like the neighborhood kids on a hot summer day. Of course, there was cheese melted throughout which salvaged an otherwise subpar course.

Finally, I enjoyed a make-your-own salad ($2.27). I thought it would be exciting to add corn to the dish, giving it a southwestern feel. Well, someone should have told me that corn holds a lot of water, meaning at by-the-pound pricing, that corn could be traded for oil barrels in Iran right about now. It did add a sweet taste though, which wont go unnoticed. The romaine lettuce was crisp and refreshing, kudos to the produce crew for renewing the batch late in the evening, when they coulda left me the days scraps and been justified, as I ate with 30 minutes left for the diner hour. 50 gold stars to the grill attendant who opened a brand new bag of those zesty garlic croutons I love, just so I could sprinkle a few on my salad. I rounded out the dish with bacos and light ceasar dressing. All the flavors danced in my mouth to help me forget the quesa-debacle, and remind me that cafeteria dining can be great, if only because you have no other choice.

ATLAJ...

2008-08-12T19:49:00.000-07:00

So this is my first attempt at a phlog. I moved to Atlanta and I wanna post some junk to display how I live. I work at Children's Healthcare of Atlatna:

Its a beautiful place where sick kids come to get healthy. Sometimes I have a part in that.

This is my work office, where I save lives.

My bedroom, in my parents' basement.

Im proud of my bookshelves and my CD display, Im so cultured.

My study, for reading and contemplating the scriptures or soaking in a good novel.

Solamente...

2008-08-12T13:52:00.000-07:00

This should be short and to the point. As I was driving home today, my iPod picked Save Me from the Enter the Worship Circle album. The lyrics are taken from Psalm 69 which are:

Save me, oh God! for the waters have come up to my neck.
I am sinking to the bottom, where I cannot stand
I am calling to You, can You hear my cry?

Oh my God you've turned your eyes
Now my heart has come alive!

Only You have come to find me
Only You have come to pull me out
Only You have come to save me
Only You have come to wrap your arms around me

I just thought about all the things I look to for safety and comfort. And not only will those things ultimatley not save me or help me...they cant, wont, and didnt seek me out to do it. Not friends. Not family. Not lovers. Not children. Not jobs. Not pride. Not success. Not fear. Not status. Not power. Not hobbies. Not rest. Not laughter. Not alcohol. Not clothes. Not music. Not money.

Sorry, that list is kind of random but at some point I have thought one of those things would make me feel better, would satisfy. Nothing has pursued us and chased us to save us. Why do we look elsewhere for comfort? When all else fails me, which it will inevitably do, only He has come to find me.

Calling all cars...

2008-08-06T06:47:00.000-07:00

Ok, this isn't a typical blog post. It is an invitation to everyone who is reading this. I have been reading the bible cover to cover, and now I am in Judges. This adventure has been beautiful and challenging, but much more so lately. Reading Joshua and Judges I have seen sides of God that disturb me. Ill be honest, I am having a hard time putting what I think of God and His ways into what the Bible is clearly showing me He is like (which, He doesn't change so what He was then He still is now, even if it is not spoken of). I see brutal wrath, disregard for human life, fierce anger...which I knew was there, but had not read the Old Testament fully. I can handle that though, for He is furiously jealous and demands the love and obedience of His people, and rightly so! for He is the Beginning and the End of all things. He is to be praised for giving us Jesus, who was perfect so we can be covered in Him and spared from the destruction we deserve. But I think one of the things that I really dislike most is the appearance of a reward/punishment system in these OT passages. I don't like it, I have come to only trust his grace to me through Christ, and have rejected a rewards/punishment view of God. Nothing can separate us from His love, not our actions, mindset, words, circumstances. I have bathed in His love lately when that finally hit home and I was free of all the rules and things I had done to try to earn his approval earlier in life. But this OT stuff seems to rely fully on rewards for good and punishment for bad, and it is unsettling. I have been told that grace has always been there, and God doesn't change, so why this seemingly 180 degree change of operation? I know Christ changed a lot of things, and I'm sure my answer lies in His wounds...but I have been pondering and cant seem to be OK with what I am reading. Anyway, please feel free to comment and give your ideas on this...for I am struggling with it myself. And I think being challenged by the Word is good, but sometimes its hard and confusing. If you don't or cant comment on here you can email me or something, because I really wanna know what all you guys have to say. So, with that...I open the floor to discussion!

Take, drink...

2008-08-04T20:45:00.000-07:00

I have often struggled with exactly what I should be thinking when I take communion. I know its important, I know its a sacrament (whatever exactly a sacrament really is), and I know some churches do it every week and some a few times a year. I know Jesus says "do this in rememberance of me," so I guess I should just concentrate on him real hard? But I am always remembering him, especially at church! Thats why Im there, so whats the deal with the special trip to the altar? I definitely think that its a solemn time, an important time, but I have never really known what to DO on communion days. Typically I will pray for a little bit, because if you just jump right up its suspicious, so I wanna make sure I mentally prepare myself for this special meal. The last ones in line are probably the ones that really got in the right mindset for this. Sometimes walking up I look real serious and thoughtful so everyone around me will think Im being really spiritual as I go to take the bread and wine. As I eat it, sometimes I try to make sure I am ONLY thinking about God or Jesus. Or I just concentrate so hard on...what? I mean, what should be going on in my heart? Maybe I seem really dumb to the reader(s) here, but honestly Ive just never gotten the real point. I know its special, but why?

Well I was listening to a message recently by Ray Cortese called Thou Shalt Have Great Sex, and in it was one of the best illustartions of the importance of the communion meal. Kinda a weird sermon for that huh? Perhaps. Anyway he talks about how sex is a wonderful gift from God for married couples and of course he tied it into the gospel (atta boy, Ray)...and it was really a good message. But at the end he talks about how in olden times a woman would be arranged to marry a man, and that groom-to-be would come see this woman (probably for the first time) and the families would throw a party for them. During that time, he would offer a goblet of wine to his potential bride. She then had the choice to drink or not drink this offering. If she drank, she accepted the offer of marriage...and if not, well that guy felt like a real jerk Im sure. So then if she drank, the man would then have to go off, back to his home and build a place for her and him to live after they were wed. Well, at the party, after she drank and accepted he would say to her something like "I am going to prepare a place for you and when it is ready I will come back and recieve you and there we will go and be forever together." Sound familiar? oh...how beautiful! Jesus said those very words at the Last Supper! (John 14: 2-4)

Communion is a constant reminder that we have a groom that will never leave us. A groom that is coming back to get us, his bride. A groom who died so we could be close to Him.

So last night was the first time I had taken the bread and wine since hearing that message. Im sure I dont get all of it, and Im sure I have plenty more to learn...but as I took part in the feast, I was no longer concerned with "shoulds" or "oughts" or what anyone else was doing. But I took it and quitely lifted this to my Savior: Yes, I accept. I will wait for only you. I do.

Wounded...

2008-07-28T16:12:00.000-07:00

I went to visit my great aunt and uncle this Saturday, so we could see my other great uncle and some distant cousins or something. It was a nice time, although it did have a twinge of awkwardness that comes with forced mingling. And they are family, so I think there is this dynamic where everyone feels like they should hit it off and be fast friends, so silence and lack of conversation feels extra weird. Anyway, I digress. While out in the garden, I stepped on a Hawthorn branch, upon which sat a 2 inch thorn. This monstrosity (it was huge, take out a ruler and measure 2 inches - thats a big thorn) proceeded to impale a) the rubber sole of my Reef sandals b) the thick foam padding c) the leather bed and d) my flesh. This hurt.

As I cleaned my bloody instep the throbbing radiated out and affected the entire heel portion of my foot. I was pretty surprised how much damage this thorn did. I mean, my foot was still quite sore today. At my desk today, I considered this thorn and I thought about how nasty the crown of thorns must have been. That was real. It happened. I think often times we do not have a personal, physical connection with what happened to our Savior. We werent there, we didnt see the blood or hear the sounds of torture which occured on that day. But all that stuff we read and saw in that Mel Gibson movie actually happened and were actually felt by our beautiful friend and Lord, Jesus. Feeling that thorn gave me possibly a 0.00003% feeling of what He endured for us. Actually immeasurably less than that, because he endured the abscence of an infinitley intimate relationship with the Father, but that is a whole nother blog in itself. Basically, sin is ugly...and the punishment for it is devastating. Its just ridiculous the amount of love that was and is poured out on us by the Father. To go through that, just so He could be close to a continuously rebelious son like me...its astonishing.

Dont be a drone...

2008-07-23T17:35:00.000-07:00

I was talking to my friend Jason recently about this resurgence of blogging that seems to be happening. I know people have been blogging for a while now, but only recently it seems that all my friends have started to post blogs. So anyway, we were discussing this and he commented that he thinks "one of the best things we can do with our time is read and/or write." This seems very basic, but when you think about it...do we really ever do these things? I mean, really do them to exercise our mind and not out of obligation to our job or school.

Reading expands the boundaries of our minds I think. It stretches our knowledge base and forces us to focus our energy on a subject. I have experienced the satisfaction of ingesting a good piece of literature lately and there is something extra special about it. It takes more effort than watching TV or even listening to music (both enjoyable activities) and that leads us to appreciate that act of reading more. I cant wait now to come home from work and just sit with a book for an hour or so. It is truly a relaxing activity, yes stimulates your mind at the same time. I think it enriches our souls. I have no proof of this, but that is just my recent thoughts on reading.

As for writing, I have lately discovered a new benefit to this pastime. Organization. Historically I have used writing to experiment with diction and tried to paint pictures with words. I would only write if I thought I had a really big idea or a clever way of putting something. However since starting this blog I have seen that through writing, my thoughts have an outlet to take shape and organize into useful knowledge. Nothing special, just working through the muddled thought soup that is my brain. There have been a few posts where I just started typing with a vague idea, then through spilling out words, actually identified what had been floating around in my head. Sometimes it just helps to get it out. To find the root of the situation so you can deal with it.

Thinking about this subject, writing, also led me to consider creativity in general. Writing is a form of creating, as well as the other arts such as painting, playing music, etc. I think using our minds to create is a very special thing to do. It taps into one of God's attributes that he shares with us. We are made in His image and while we certainly do not have his omnipotence we do have the capacity to create. Id go so far as to say that one of the defining characteristics of God is creativity. Anyway, using our minds to create is showing Him that we appreciate what he has bestowed on us. Its not the only way to do that, but it is one way. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then when we are creative we are worshiping Him in a way. Kinda cool, huh? I thought it was an interesting thought. Lets not let these abilities atrophy. I encourage you to read, write, and enjoy these precious gifts He has given us!

Just gotta blog...

2008-07-18T21:00:00.000-07:00

Its midnight, on a Friday, and I just feel like blogging. I honestly have nothing good to talk about. This will probably be a lot of rambling...but I just wanna say some stuff that i love about life.

1. I love rooting for the underdog, and there is no bigger underdog than the Florida Marlins. All players on their team have about 2-3 years of experience, ever. Their payroll is less than the employees at your local Circle K. Yet they defy the odds and are somewhat competitive. You know why? Heart. And there is nothing more loveable than heart in a guy who just quite doesnt have the talent. Its great to be a fan when one win in a 162* game season makes you so happy. BoSox fans arent satisfied unless they win it all in October. Me? Just gimme a 2 out rally in the 9th to beat the Royals.

2. Moss/Ivy. Does any substance give the feeling of age and wisdom like moss or ivy? Take any average gate and add ivy: all of a sudden that thing has been there since the 1700s and hides wonderful secrets. Got plain stepping stones? Add a little moss around them and you are walking a path into a magical forest with pixies buzzing abou t.

3. Sounds. Gosh I love sounds. Not only music, but just different noises. Its amazing how a sound can freak you our ot warm you to the core. Some top sounds are typewriters, biting into an apple, (sorry bout the creepy laugh at the end of the apple bite but its all i could find) and dress shoes on a wood floor. Senses in general are pretty awesome. I like sense.

4. Cat sarcasm kills me. If you know a cat, you know what Im talking about. I really dont like cats much, but sometimes they just slay me. Have you ever tried to excite a cat? Like for a dog you jump around, talk in a wacky voice, and make a fool of yourself and it gets excited and wants to play too. But a cat...oh no, you my friend are mocked by that effing cat. They have an amazing ability to just pierce you to the core and say "uh, you're an idiot. " Its like the look you would get if you walked into a real indie music store and bought the latest Sum 41 release.

5. The invention of those olde tyme big wheeled bikes. These have always fascinted me, I mean what were they thinking? Who came up with this?* Thanks to all the baseball buffs for the correction. It is, in fact a 162 game season.

The sun stood still...

2008-07-16T16:38:00.001-07:00

So Im here. In Atlanta, which other than the plethora of Cokes is just another city, but this time I have no friends. And a job that is looking like it might be 60 hours a week...including every Monday that will be 7:30am-11pm. I am feeling inadequate to complete this residency and lately have been wondering why I am doing it in the first place. These are totally unexpected feelings, because when I decided to do this I truly felt like God had placed it in my soul to pursue a residency. I mean I was so confident this was it! Now I am really just feeling the weight of this decision, from being at home, to the job, to finding a church, to finding community. Im just not so sure about the whole thing and I am having major doubts. Unfortunatley, I am in this now, and I cant get out (literally, its a legally binding agreement to do this residency). Bla, bla, bla...Ok, Im complaining. I know. Its amazing my capacity to complain. 6 months ago this was all I wanted. Now I am questioning why Im even here. I dont like all this doubt, fear, and worry. And Im beginning to realize that it is clearly of the Evil One who would like nothing more for me to be where God wants me but to hate it and not pursue the task to the end. God tells his people all the time to go do seemingly crazy things (way nuttier than to get a good job in Atlanta) and he constantly has to remind them that He is with them and not to fear. I was reading in Joshua yesterday, and I came across a ridiculously sweet passage. Joshua and his army of Israel have been commanded to take over all the Promised Land and claim it for themselves. To shorten the story for you all, basically Joshua's army comes to a point where they are facing a joint-army of 5 major cities in the region. 5 armies on 1 basically, but God says "dont be afraid, I have given them into your hand." A little crazier than "go move to Atlanta" huh? Well they proceed to fight and in the middle of battle God STOPS THE MOVEMENT OF THE SUN for a full 24 hours to allow for more daylight and a victory for Israel (Joshua 10). I dont even need to elaborate on that. Soak it in for a sec.

I need to constantly remember that God is God. My dear friend Elliott told me that yesterday. "let God be God." I mean thats so true, why do I forget it daily? Now, am I expecting some kind of crazy miracle? No, not really. However God can and will equip his people to be able to carry out his will, by whatever means necesary. He can stop all of the universe for a day. He is the Creator. He is God. It is so encouraging. He has brought me here, I still belive that, and He will sustain me throughout it. He will not leave me by myslelf to whither away. I am feeling weak, alone, stupid, and scared. What a better time for Him to reveal his power, mercy, and grace than to pick a sad sack like myself and do something big in Atlanta? It is a miracle in itself to be able to be used by God at all. My boy CS Lewis wrote that God could repair our bodies without food, convert heathens without missionaries, or give us knowledge without teachers. However "He allows soils and weather and animals and the muscles, minds, and wills of men to co-operate in the execution of His will." Thank you for including me in this great adventure, Lord.

I <3 Atlanta...

2008-07-11T13:50:00.000-07:00

Ok, well as some of you may know I love Diet Coke. Diet COKE mind you, not Pepsi. Sometimes I will drink Pepsi, however it is frowned upon. Sometimes, when im craving a DC, I want to go to a place, but I will not go there because they serve Pepsi, even if I want their food. Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, Firehouse, and Panera are on that list. However, today I went to Panera due to a coworkers suggestion (just trying to be flexible and not cause any spats on the first week).

Well, for background on my ridiculous thought pathways, I had just been thinking the day before how our hospital had Coke and how delightful that was. Then I figured that should have been obvious since The Coke World Headquarters is here in Atlanta. I bet they dominate the cola sales around here. Then on the drive over to Panera that I wondered if they would have Coke products, because after all, Atlanta is the home of Coke. But then I realized Panera is a national chain and Im sure their contract with Pepsi takes authority.

Well, as I approcahed the fountain I saw what I expected, Pepsi, Mountain Dew, etc. BUT THEN! at the end of the row were two spouts, one for Coca Cola and one for Diet Coke!!! I couldnt believe it! I mean, does ATL have some negotiation with every business here that they have to serve Coke products? This is huge! Can I get a Coke at Taco Bell? Does everyone have Coke? Oh man...I cannot wait to explore this possibility. So I enjoyed my 1/2 Bacon Turkey Bravo sandwich and cup of French Onion soup with an ice cold Diet Coke...something I had never done before...delicious.

And that is why I love the ATL.

From 6/29/08...

2008-07-10T18:13:00.000-07:00

I know, Ive always made fun of blogging...because, well it SOUNDS ridiculous. "I gotta go blog" "Have you read my blog?" I mean, come on. But look at me...this is a real post, a true blog post. So I will take all your crap and love it...because yes, I am blogging. Right now. Today.

So, Im all sentimental because Im leaving Orlando (for good?) in like 2 hours. And i am trying to figure out things. What things? I dont know. Why do we need community around us so much? Why does it make me sick to my stomach (literally) to leave these great people in Orlando? I mean I know there will be others in Atlanta. There will be, its a fact...theres millions of people there, I will find friends, probably very good friends. Maybe BETTER friends! Who knows. But like, all i can is remember the ridiculous/great/funny/sad

/heartbreaking/joyful times Ive shared with so many different people over the last 4 years. Looking back i love all those times. Even the crappy ones because now they can be seen in perspective and i can see why they were necessary. I just want familiarity I think. I like knowing people will be around, and be there for me, and I for them. But then again, I do like adventure. And this Atlanta move is an adventure. maybe I just dont wanna do it alone. I dont know, I have run the gamut of emotions the past week. I guess im feeling everything at once.

Another question...why do I feel the need or want to know where we will all end up. Will we all "make it" so to speak. Not money-wise or success...but just in life, in faith. Will we all become what God has made us to be? Will we all find our loves? Will we all be ok? Seems like a weird thing to think about, but thats been going through my head. I want to know all these people I care about will be ok. I love you all. Really.

I dont like emotion...its so weird. Its kinda unpredicatble and uncontrollable. And it just dominates us. Thats that.

But Ive learned so much this year. How to live and love better. Expanded my mind in many ways...opened up to new ideas from getting into instrumental music to learning that sometimes you just have a house pot of clothes and everyone shares, and its ok. Most importantly now and going forward I have learned what my God means to me. And what I mean to Him. I have learned that trying to be good just doesnt cut it. Why do we think we can offer anything to Him? No no, its all because He loved us FIRST and in our brokenness and disparity, he has chased after us desperately and said "you're worth it" despite the fact we constantly flick him off and peel out, so to speak. He loves us to much and it has nothing to do with my actions or my deeds to impress him. He literally died for a selfish, perverse, lazy, untrusting guy like me. And through the grace offered by Christ, He says im beautiful now. THIS is life changing love. This is the kind of thing that makes us WANT to live for Him and live how he says. Not out of obligation, trying to do good, or trying to somehow offer him anything. We cant. All we can offer is the righteousness of Christ in front of us, and thats all we can do. I love it. Its freeing. And i think it is the only way we can truly express the love of that Father because the love that flows out when u realize you cant do it yourself and you are so hopeless, yet he says I love you! oh man...that is when it starts errupting out of your heart and soul and the real abundant life can start to take place. Thats what the gospel means to me. So, now I have unintentionally encouraged myself :) I think I will pack up and "go forth with vigor" like my good friend Shannon Wing said. I am going to Atlanta knowing I am loved and excited to spread the GOOD news, because it is so good. And you, whoever was bored enough to read this...you go forth with vigor knowing you are loved! I will see you all around the bend!!!!

Regarding prayer...

2008-07-09T19:22:00.000-07:00

"...if an infinitely wise Being listens to the requests of finite and foolish creatures, of course He will sometimes grant and sometimes refuse them." -C.S. Lewis

I was reading recently in a collection of short works by ol' Clive a passage about the efficacy of prayer. I would love to just post the whole thing, as it is quite good...but since this is "my" blog I guess I will give my musings and reactions to the passage. Basically after reading it, I was convicted about how I approach prayer. For so long, I have treated it as a suggestion box. Sometimes more urgent pleas, sometimes casual requests...but nonetheless a time to express and beg for what I thought was best. However, time after time, year after year, my prayers would just turn into a soggy mush of requests to a God who seemed far away and uninterested. I knew this wasnt true! However when I started to do my "nightly prayer" I just felt as if I was talking to a lonely, vast exapnse. I was not connecting with my personal God and Savior. Because, I think, prayer was not meant to be this...shocking, I know.

"Prayer, in the sense of petition, asking for things is a small part of it; confession and penitence are its threshold, adoration its sanctuary, the presence and vision and enjoyment of God its bread and wine."

**As an unrealted sidenote, I would just like to say I want to master the semi-colon! It adds so much depth to a passage I think. After a semi-colon I am always excited to see what is next...I dont know, they fascinate me. Prolly because I dont really know what their purpose is, so its always so mysterious.**

So anyway, that night I prayed and left aside my frail requests and suggestions to my omnipotent Creator and I praised Him for why I love Him. Why I have decided to surrender my life to Him and his Will. I basically told Him why He is God. It was incredible. I felt like I was just sitting talking to Him, in His living room with many bound books and a bearskin rug in front of the fire. I was enjoying Him, and He revealed Himself to me though this worship. I didnt get any answers to any of my questions or any answered prayers that night. But I did enter into my God's presence, and all my petty worries and concerns faded away in that glory. I dont expect anything in return for my "correct" prayer, other than the pleasure of being in the presence of God (which is my one true desire anyway I suppose). Im not at all saying pray like this and then the door to your worldly desires will be opened. I do think that by praising Him and entering into an attitude of worship through prayer finally ushers your spirit into His den so to speak, where the door has always been opened and he has always been inviting us, yet we continually hid down the hallway and whispered our advice as to how He should run things.

Now, we still should request things if we want, we are instructed to offer up petitions. But dont forget this is only a small part of the act of worship that is prayer. However, do not be discouraged if your requests are not answered, for the Christ Himself pleaded in the garden and his prayer was refused. CS offers an interesting view of answered/unanswered prayers "...little people like you and me, if our prayers are sometimes granted, beyond all hope and probability, had better not draw hasty conclusions to our own advantage. If we were stronger, we might be less tenderly treated. If we were braver, we might be sent, with far less help, to defend far more desperate posts in the great battle."

So, I have a blog...

2008-07-05T19:25:00.000-07:00

Yea, I guess I have a blog now. I am looking forward to hopefully keep up with this. We'll see if I do...