NOD(ish)

Questions 1

2009-07-21T13:34:00.004-04:00

It's semi-annoying and semi-typical that when I sit down to do a little studying, it just never gets done. Honestly, if I want to do work then I either have to lock myself in my room alone or skip town so I can go somewhere nobody will know me. Pish-posh though. It gets done.

So I was reading through the first chapter of Proverbs. Something I've done many times over. Can't really say that I have any new insights to what it all might be saying. Nothing. No new truth. No new facts. No revelation. But what I do have are emotions attached to this passage.

Maybe it's the rainy day and the silence it's been dragging me to. All the contemplation, dreariness, blahness, zoning-out-ness, and just dreaming of going out and playing in puddles-ness.

Side note to all of this: Why don't we ever let go of the norm, get out from indoors and play ferociously in the rain like when we were little kids?

Getting back to the Proverb at hand.

Okay, whatever with the reason for the emotions being attached to this passage. But I was reading through it and loads of questions started circling around in my mind. Like, "Why does it seem like there's a limit to God's grace?" "Why will God sit back and let bad things happen to people when they are gleaning for him?" "Why will God mock his people and laugh at their calamity? That just seems mean."

And obviously the answers to those questions are right in front of me. Proverbs says that Wisdom was crying aloud in the streets. That she was speaking at the entrance of the city gates. That she was poured out for the people. That she was made known. But no one cared. No one heeded her words. No one answered her cry.

The only time people turned to God was in their crisis. He was their scape goat. They only need him on their time. But when all the skies were blue, well, he just wasn't a part of the picture.

I can see how God might be put off by that. I would. But still, here I am having been raised thinking that God's grace is endless and Proverbs just isn't telling the same story. Of course his grace is never ending, but if we're in this strange abusive type relationship with the creator of the universe where we use and abuse him on our time, then yeah, I can't imagine his grace would go on forever in that case.

It's like, "Well God, we can only be cool with one another when it's convenient for me." "God, sure, provide for me when I carelessly throw my money away. I need you now more than ever." Well, what about that time a few weeks back when you had plenty of money and didn't need help? Was God a part of your life then? You might figure, "Of course he was," but your lack of acknowledgment of him says otherwise.

And this is what Proverbs is leading me to think here. We can't just have a relationship with God when it's convenient. But this verse still bothers me. Because there have been plenty of times in my life when I've basically forgotten about God. When I've gone through life dilly-dallying going about my own business not caring an ounce about God. Not praying. Not reading my Bible. Not going to any sort of church meeting however that meeting might look. Not doing anything that is God-related at all.

So shouldn't I be cut off when life doesn't go well and I start calling out to God?

So it begs the question of, "What does it mean to have a relationship with God?" I mean to ask about the deepest regions of our being having some sort of relationship with God. The places we can't even travel to most of the time because they're so out of reach but somehow God is in touch with them. Make sense?

In closing, I can't imagine God just cutting us off if we truly have a relationship with him. But still, what does that relationship mean. I don't know. I think we'll all come up with our own personal answers. So this Proverb is a good reminder to us to keep our relationship with him in check.

Don't use and abuse him. That just can't be good to have the God of the universe laughing at your crisis. Not cool.

Day 2: Handbreaths

2009-02-21T14:25:00.001-05:00

When it rains all the world seems a little smaller.

A little more claustrophobic.

Little.

The world shrinks with each raindrop instead of each raindrop shrinking into puddles and oceans and rivers and soaked coats walking around. And we all shy away from the streets and avoid the puddles like the Wicked Witch of the West melting. We don’t enjoy a closet-sized world.

Maybe it’s because we are more apt to notice the world for what the world really is. But what are we focusing on?

There’s a rose sitting on a windowsill. Sitting like you and me. Stem for feet bent into the waters like time spent out on a dock not wanting to dive straight in. So we sit there. Swinging feet back and forth, crossed, skimming the water’s surface, barely submerging our toes. There’s always the shock of the water being too cold even on July’s hundred-degree days. The world could boil over and we’d still shiver at the thought of diving straight into the pool.

In all her Mother Nature patience the rose waits there, on that old windowsill, for a little light to break from the heavens. She never speaks. She barely moves. She simply remains half sunk in a bottle of water. Her petals could be plucked but I’d still not know if I were in love or not. Because I don’t think love relies on chance, but nevertheless love is a chance that we must all take at some point in our life.

“She loves me not.” I don’t think that’s true, but I’ll pluck the rose petal anyways. Because I’m wanting to get onto the “She loves me” bit. So I must work through my indecision weighing the pros and cons. And weighing them so quickly that the list doesn’t amount to much beside the shallow surface of all that I barely know she is. Though what can my lack of knowledge bring?

“She loves me not.”

It only furthers my indecision. Like I’ve come upon a brick wall blocking me from moving forward. And that brick wall is an arm’s reach taller than me. So I jump. And I swing at the ledge. Fingertips clasping a road-rash-capable surface. Soon, sure enough, they’ll begin to bleed because I can’t hold myself up. So I fall. And the wall grows. When I walk to the side it extends further. It won’t allow me to see what’s on the other side.

Love is my own Great Wall. It runs for miles and miles and stretches higher than the heavens. It doesn’t matter how much I struggle to see the other side. I can’t.

Even though I want to know her more, I can’t. Phone lines don’t tell me her history. They don’t let me watch her life in rewind, pause, playback again and start at the beginning. I could call and I could call and I could call, but our conversations always start with “Hellos” like it’s the first time we met and end with “Goodbyes” like we’ll never meet again.

Then I pluck another, and “She loves me.”

But the wall is still two feet too high and three feet too wide. I can’t see her. I can’t know her.

But I can still love her?

Pluck another. Pluck once more. And soon that rose wouldn’t be that rose in the old windowsill. It would be a stem, a weed. How can we possibly justify taking guesses for what love might bring? How can we prune the edges of love by chance of “She loves me” or “She loves me not”?

Love doesn’t make sense. But one thing it does, is it waits. It waits for that hole in the sky to appear. For that light to filter through. And luckily, that rose got placed on a windowsill where it can take in what little life it might know. Breathe what stale air there might be with a window closed. Too cold in February. The wind is dictated by the swing of the front door. Gusts pushed round the room upon entering. But air, regardless. So heart beats and breaths. And petals on stems, in full bloom, breathing it all in.

Behold, you have made my days a few

handbreaths...

(Psalm 39:5)

I breathe in the rain. Breathe in the mix of fire chimney smoke, crackling inching embers nearing ends and warming houses along with whisps winds whispering gusting gaining speeds and showing storms in small amounts as though it were flexing.

The world is small when it rains. So small that Creation’s details are as art in a gallery. New exhibitions open. No cover charge. Just our natural tendency to understand the world a little better when all is boxed up a little more. But that tendency always surprises us like it were a natural responsibility to be more intimately connected with Creation.

And it’s in moments like these, moments when I can’t help but notice a simple rose simply sitting on a windowsill, that I ask my God:

“O Lord, make me know my end

and what is the measure of my days;

let me know how fleeting I am!

Behold, you have made my days a few

handbreaths,

and my lifetime is as nothing before

you.

Surely all mankind stands as a mere

breath!

(Psalm 39:4-5)

Because when the world is smaller I tend to be more introspective.

I pray that you evaluate your life. That you see the beauty which may be sitting right behind you on a windowsill. And know that love is a chance worth taking.

Then go for a walk in the rain. And intimately enjoy the world around you.

Breathe it all in.

Repeat.

Do it again.

Confession XLXIX

2009-02-17T20:32:00.005-05:00

The coastal roads dive with the waves. They crash going right and left and this way and that. They merge pavement with light. They blur. Reflector passing onto reflector hinting that there’s a trail, which even leads travelers home in darkness. They follow cliffs and follow stars and cut through February airs with little ease. They drive on with no drivers driving on them.

And a carousel of lights spins round giants in the air. Zigzagging lights blinking fast and slow depending on a driver’s speed. But speeds are always slow at night. There’s no rush home. No rush to any destination. Only below 30s mimicking colds and their frozen bogs or what’s left of the skating ice.

So pop your collar to hide the chills from your neck. And rewind the song like it’s an old cassette tape so you can hear your favorite lyrics again. Then find yourself not in the light anymore.

She sings while the piano plays. And you’re struck by the chord. Staring off to figure out how life as a tire might be. Going round and around, spinning pedals pushing harder to the floor to spinning faster and faster and faster some more. Till you find yourself back in the light.

It’s like quick glimpses between sun and naught, moon and dark or any apparent opposition.

But you’re drawn to both, like a film that never ceases to reel the picture forward on the screen. You’re drawn to progression as it swerves and licks the corners of the road making your heart stop when you look down that cliff to the ocean bed. And you doze off. And your head nods, neither yes nor no, just the indecision between sleep and wake. And its accompanying necessity to drive one more mile till whatever destination you have in mind is reached.

It’s then that you realize you’re playing in a silver screen. The kind that continues on after the credits stop rolling. The kind that brings you back home at night imaging the next scene. You play it out in your head. You say the lines as your prayers beside your bed. Knelt down before your God. Moon through the window. Blinds left open. Eyes shut. All alone in your room. Mystifying the night like Odyssey’s and Hercules’ and all fantasies from the heavens.

You are as Mars fighting for his one love. Battling against armies numbering the sands of Dover Beach. Overwhelmed and at your last edge. Ocean foam circling your feet. Coursing tides molding your last steps. Fighting cowardice. Fighting your heart. Fighting all of life just to stay alive.

You cycle through every emotion till all escapes you, till you find yourself gazing into flashing reflectors outlining the column you drive in. They blink. And blink. Blink, blink with less pause.

The lights above flash, blurry flashes, like old cameras leaving smoke residue in the air. Foggy photos. Moments caught slow but continuous. You string them together like pulling elastics over the tops of each telephone pole making some geometric shape. But be careful how far you stretch the elastic. It might break. Snap. Shoot the moon. And make the coastal drive home that much more memorable.

Will you really remember this moment?

Or will you just stay lost in it?

Unfortunately we don’t last that long when it comes to holding time in an hourglass. Because even hourglasses constantly drip sand for sand grains. One after the other. Slipping faster than second for second, counting the most miniscule of time increments like a second is the smallest conceivable idea for time we understand.

I drove that coastal road home last night. I caressed every curve. I jump-roped the hills and broke keeping from losing control. Driving down. Driving down. Down in and out of light and dark then back and forth till I noticed the reel as a series of still photographs strung together in some purposeful way.

And sometimes the purpose doesn’t matter because you’re not focused on the still frames. You’re looking at the moving picture as a whole. Trying to figure out the grand scope of your life as you drift in and out of the night. But it’s not even the understanding of life that we’re concerned with.

We merely enjoy the moment for the moment. And we drive on our way for another twenty minutes. And we let ourselves get carried away as our body directs us home taking the same roads we always take home. It’s like we’re a passenger even though we’re driving the car.

So we’re able to stare out the windshield and see a never dying horizon. Able to hear the crashing waves ‘gainst distant stone throws for old old giants skipping boulders on the water and counting the number of skips.

We’re able to enjoy the simple of life. The little that God might grant us. But that little is quite enough.

Better is the little that the righteous has

than the abundance of many wicked.

(Psalm 37:16)

Confession XLXVIII

2009-02-15T21:23:00.001-05:00

Tie your shoelace.

Sit down.

Stare at a sunset.

Let twelve o’clock be your new start.

Run as fast as you can as fast as you can as the world spins swirl wind-whirl passing stars on both sides upside-down right-side of the sidewalk out of the water whistle fall gallons upon gallons of rain collected storms and sunshine and picturesque models for life all strained through the same heavens into two-eye sight looking glass; it’s all about perspective.

I went for a walk. Today. Out back in the woods. Walked on the last snows Christmastime left. Slipped on the ice. Caught my breath. Fell down a hill. Kept my step. And regained my walk. Out back in the woods.

I went alone. Left because I couldn’t let the day pass without experience. Experiencing the day for all its fullness. Or its full-of-potential, if you look at it that way since its fullness depends on your meeting the day to experience such magnitude, weight, burdens, relief; the day holds so much, but it’s what we’re looking for that we’ll get.

And I went looking for God.

And I went to places I’d never been before. Walked steps I never stepped before. Left my house a way I never left before.

I don’t afford myself the freedom to be random enough of the time. I play by schedules and routine. There’s always an underlying agenda to the day. There’s never just me and the day like we’re two separate entities meeting up to complete what is only natural: living.

Wash your hands.

Turn on the radio.

Hide under the covers.

Stop to breathe.

Today I went to stop. And I did. Stop. I sat on a boulder set off the road. The sun glared in my eyes. As I looked around. Breathtaking. Wonderful. Broken brush. Old trees folded like linens, but not with as much care. Dead grey branches flung flopped over more like laundry still in its basket after a wash. The wind never moved. Planes in the distance. Engines sputtering. Cold on my neck. Not cold enough to see my breath.

Button up.

Take a step.

Climb a hill.

Find yourself miles from home. And call it your home. And find that you’re always at home. And let life live as it was born to live: limitless. Without bounds. No fences. No borders.

Die when you’re seventy.

Feel alive the moment before you die.

Realize your heartbeat. Realize your breath-beat. Realize the sun beating down. Realize beading rain on rainy days. Realize beating your lethargy will wake you up. Realize “hellos” and “goodbyes” as a never-ending cycle to your moving on, growing up, gaining wisdom, insights, knowledge, acknowledging that life continues even when you don’t continue on.

So stop a while.

Do something you’ve never done.

Check the box marked “Not Ordinary.” And see what you’ve signed up for.

Commit your way to the Lord;

trust in him, and he will act.

(Psalm 37:5)

Sometimes life doesn’t look the way you wanted it to. Let me rephrase that by saying most of the time life doesn’t look the way you wanted it to. But one thing is for sure: if we give over our everyday to the Lord, he will remain faithful.

Today I took a walk out back in the woods and returned home. It was simple. It wasn’t normal. And it was new.

I needed a change in life and that change was a dirt road right behind where I sleep. It’s always been there. I just never ventured out back.

We need to come to the point in life where we are aware of our surroundings. And if we are not aware, then we need to adventure. We need to explore. Not for the mere sake of becoming aware, but for the simple fact that as human beings breathing some possible seventy year life, we need to live. And how can we ever truly live if we don’t change the rhythm of –

Untie your shoelace,

Stand up,

Walk into the sun –

Life?

May you find God in a new way today. And may you change your life if even in the slightest. Then may you truly understand what it is to live.

Confession XLXVII

2009-02-13T17:36:00.001-05:00

I did nothing.

[Silence]

He stood there slumped over. His trousers rolled half way to his knees. With frail legs for old stumps holding him up. He slouched, bent forward by too many years walking from door to door. He was no peddler. No evangelist decked out in shirt and tie going from door to door trying to save a world from fire hell and brimstone. He belonged out at sea centuries earlier in the hot beating sun chasing after Moby Dick. Not in Boston with a chill that licks your skin and makes you squeamish because springtime is tempting, but winter’s still here.

And he belongs better dressed.

And housed, yes, I bet he needs a home. His lack for attire screams street monger. His rolled up cuffs, his wandering eyes, his confused gait; does he even know where he is?

[Pause]

I did nothing.

[End]

And for a second I think I caught his stare. He noticed that someone was watching. Whether that someone was me or the hundreds of others walking into City Place. It’s then that I was judged. Then that I was caught apathetic. Then that I was caught indifferent, save my sympathy. Then that I was caught in a selfish adultery where I chose to walk through the Starbucks door, buy my black Americano, and proceed to walk away with only one thought in my head:

“Why didn’t I do anything?”

[Silence]

That man wasn’t there the hours later when I walked back to City Place. Maybe he found the door he was looking for. Maybe he blended into a crowd of the housed and the homeless. I don’t know where he went, but I know that half a day later I’m still thinking of him. And I’m condemning myself for my pathetic apathy, for my criminal lack of care, for my infidelity with fellow flesh and blood, heart soul mind and God’s beloved; he is just like me, human and loved by God. Now why can’t I love him just the same?

You read this and say to me, “No, no you can’t care for everyone in the world. You can’t worry about every homeless person. You can’t keep letting your heart break over the man sleeping on a street vent to keep warm during December. You just can’t think on it as much as you do.”

“But I did nothing,” I plead and I plead and I regret and I guilt.

And you keep going on. You keep telling me, “It doesn’t matter how much you give her. She’ll still be homeless come tomorrow. Why do you waste such amounts of money of them? You know they’ll buy booze. You know they’ll go back to drugs. You know they won’t get the drive enough to sustain themselves.” You say it like you’re shaking me with a breath pause between each word accentuating your point. You yell at me, but it’s slow yells. It’s like your convincing yourself that indifference is the only way to survive a sin-ridden world while you’re trying to convince me. That sometimes you need to turn a blind eye.

And we argue. And we disagree. Because, then, why am I a Christian?

How do I claim Christ as my Savior, Christ as my first love, Christ as my one hope, and then not care for the needy?

How am I a Christian without displaying Christ’s love for the world?

My sacrifice of a few coins, maybe some bills even, will never compare to Christ’s sacrifice for my life.

Maybe I’m ridiculously extreme in saying that I failed Christ today by not giving to someone in need, but in all honesty, that’s what happened. I failed my Lord and Savior. I failed to love. Yet, love never fails. It’s we, in our display of love or the lack there of, who fail.

Because I did nothing.

[Pause]

May you love when it is needed to the extent of the need. And may you never stop loving.

And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. (Acts 3:5)

[End]

Confession XLXVI

2009-02-10T22:12:00.001-05:00

On nights black as these I wonder how I’ll ever find God. God way up in the clouds. Gone past Jupiter and all the biggest of stars. Moons orbiting stardust, dus-ting split-second light trafficking from miles away and finding me where I sit.

Sometimes light in the darkness are far away stars, but that seems like enough to get me through the night.

I can’t imagine constantly living in the light. I mean, that summer daylight, the kind that gives you sunburns even if you’re out for less than an hour. I was always the kid who slept with a nightlight when I was younger. I don’t know when I kicked that habit. When I let go of that safety net. When I couldn’t sleep unless it was completely dark. And now I leave the blinds on my window open because I like the natural nightlights filling my room while I sleep.

I like the thought of being able to find God among the stars right before my eyes shut.

Why else are those stars way up there? If not to let us dream of playing among them?

So I will continue to take liberty and dream of where my God is.

Dream of finding myself among those stars. Of finding that perpetually perfect life.

That life that continually chooses to shine, but only for a certain time after dusk.

The kind that masquerades around during the day hiding behind clouds and sun.

The kind that sometimes stumbles out during the last minutes of a sunset as if to say, “This is how life is meant to be. Don’t worry. You’ll always have some sort of light to read your books by. No worries, okay?” And it’s those sunset fumblings that usher in a comfort for a night easing itself into another hour of existence.

So how can I not find God among these black-black nights?

Well, it’s all that we bring into the night. It’s those last minute conversations with an overseas love before she goes to bed.

She let out a sigh and I could hear the letdown in her voice. I could hear the way she didn’t feel appreciated. The way she didn’t feel loved.

And she was tired. And she said, “Oh...I guess I won’t be getting any Valentines card this year.” Said it running out of breath. Depressed. Like a sad-ness overcome her.

And I really had no words to say back to her. No way to comfort her. No little white-colored lies because what was the use? Her card would probably reach her door late. And if I send flowers then they’re not natural. They’re some reproduced little cyborg monsters for flowers that grow on Dr. Moreau’s island all steroided-up so the arrangement can look exactly how the advertisement posed it.

Maybe she was tired, but I thought she was going to cry. Thought I could hear the tears. Thought I could hear her heart. Crying.

Into your hands I commit my spirit;

you have redeemed me, O Lord,

faithful God.

(Psalm 31:5)

But one thing still remains: God is faithful.

Whether we understand God the most when we’re standing in the spotlight of day, floodlight, high-beaming drive-by highway light or whether we understand God the most when the sun’s settled in for a night on the other side of the planet; we still see his illuminating presence. We still see his faithfulness. We still see his redemption. It doesn’t matter if we’re staring into the sun or staring through a pinhole in a wall. Light will flood in to even the most remote areas of life.

That is why those far away stars at night are enough for me. Because they’re still a light in the darkness.

There’s still light.

That’s it.

So bring to the night what you will. Bring a love separated. Bring a cancer discovered. Bring a great wall blocking your way back home. And bring the everyday emotional ebb and flow.

But just know that your God is faithful.

For he has redeemed you.

Confession XLXV

2009-02-06T10:33:00.003-05:00

Have you ever played a song over and over again, till you just smile and want to play it one more time? It’s one of those days. I just keep pressing the back button till the guitar kicks its smooth elegance, then drums with a beat to make all dancing illiterate feet to dance, and lyrics singing “Wash away, wash away the sound of all these sad days, the sound of the wind blowing, say we’ll be here always” (Nizlopi).

And my beautiful sweetheart ain’t here with me. But I’d play her this song. And we could sit in my car right before the bay. Watch the waves break from all frozen morning. Watch them through filters of reeds blowing, moving, how can they not be frozen with snow at their feet?

So.

Cold.

Maybe we’d take up the two chairs that are just perched at the edge of the rocks. Stolen from someone’s house like someone had the thought of the world being their house; like God’s creation is the only place to ever live, not houses as we know them. We’d sit out in an open-air shelter so wherever we go in life will always be home to us. So that no matter how far she is from me, she’s still at home when she walks to work, walks out her door, walks anywhere where God has already been.

We’d sit and watch the grey horizon grow dimmer with the day. Sit and wonder how this far away, this – I can’t picture this future when I’m not with her, but it’s days like these sitting before the bay listening to songs over and over again, play: “Wash away, wash away the sound of all these sad days, the sound of the wind blowing, say we’ll be here always” (Nizlopi). It’s times like these that no distance can tear me from her. Because...

The heavens declare the glory of

God,

and the sky above proclaims his

handiwork.

(Psalms 19:1)

It’s when I’m sitting here, away from all the hustle and bustle of our modern society, that I’m able to see my God. When I have the sun breaking snowy clouds and making me squint. When

I stare off and see blues mixed with whites, grays, pales like some kids upstairs had fun out in their winter tundra building castles in the sky, with clouds for sand and sky-sands for pale-formed towers. When I’m able to see the world as still, with trees barely holding on through the winter, but I bet they’re really used to this because it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

I mean – God is still God. The same God I’m able to enjoy in the most simple way: when I’m sitting cold in my car, playing the same song over and over again singing “Wash away, wash away the sound of all these sad days, the sound of the wind blowing, say we’ll be here always” (Nizlopi). It’s the same God who orchestrates life.

I mean – the every single little minute detail of the day. The way I notice foot-tread snow with hole for hole leaving evidence of every pedestrian having passed by similar sites. The way my eyes pull together the entire scope of this morning’s reality. And how creation acts all of one accord like some secret unheard language whispered from plant to plant, waters to horizon, giving way to miles and miles; she is so many far miles away from me, but this same God is so many more miles far greater than all distance between me and her. Because...

Day to day pours out speech,

and night to night reveals knowledge.

There is no speech, nor are there words,

whose voice is not heard.

Their voice goes out through all the

earth,

and their words to the end of the

world.

(Psalm 19:2-4)

And I am able to watch the day evolve. Watch God land a group of ducks and stir others to whist and whirl and spin in the air like some carnival ride with no strings attached. I am able to see God in his perfect nature.

It is here in nature that I am comforted about every turmoil, trauma, trial, hardship, longsuffering, anything that really plagues my living. Because it’s here that I see God and I keep playing over “Wash away, wash away the sound of all these sad days, the sound of the wind blowing, say we’ll be here always” (Nizlopi).

So today, may you look for God under the heavens and have eyes wide-open to his handiwork. And may you revel in his glory.

(...today you are not far from me.)

Confession XLXIV

2009-02-02T23:32:00.001-05:00

I sat at water’s edge watching a sunset trapped frozen in waves. Stared through the horizon. Gone.

She sighed. Let out months separated, March May, she came in July and left before August turned October November new year, one year gone. Let it all out like depression depressed, unpressed traveling back in time to when they first met. And all the two years gone became more breath for the wind. Her long sigh ended when she said, “Goodbye love. Come soon. Good. Love -Bye.”

There was no trail to her words. The phone cut all ties. And their separate lives went on separated still.

For the Lord your God has blessed you in all the work of your hands. He knows your going through this great wilderness. These forty years the Lord your God has been with you. You have lacked nothing. (Deuteronomy 2:7)

If the world can actually look cold outside, then it’s seemingly cold right now and I’m glad I’m by a fire. But if the world can look cold for other reasons rather than a wintry cold, then it still looks cold outside. Cold because a love separated. Cold because she’s not sitting in the next seat at the table. Cold because I’m up while she’s sleeping. Cold because – well, because I’m missing her.

And there’s this theme of trust playing out more and more in my life. This theme of “Yeah, things will get better soon. Things will work out soon. Things won’t always be gone like phone calls – gone; time together – gone, where holidays aren’t holidays any longer and the everyday of life, love and God are here to stay.” That sort of trust where it’s like, “God, you know I’m always up for a good thrill ride, but what’s with this whole long long line waiting? And what’s up with those people cutting me in line way up there? Why does that door magically open for them? and I’m here – here, still.”

Each one of those questions is rooted in this idea of trusting God. This idea that God has it all sorted so I should just relax. This idea that God’s in control and I should be happy with it. And I’m not just talking about being happy, contented, or cool with God being in control of one miniscule situation. No. It’s a matter of constant serenity for life, for situation after situation, for hours of line waiting.

He knows your going through this great wilderness. These forty years the Lord your God has been with you. (Deuteronomy 2:7)

With you. With you. The Lord your God has been with you. These forty years. With you. These forty years the Lord your God has been with you.

I sat at water’s edge watching the seagulls fly in a roofless shelter. Silent. Sunsets. Mixing day tonight. And night to moon. Looked at how it all works. How Creation constantly creates recreates, revels marvels, marvelously reminiscing and never missing a key stroke when it comes to progression. I looked through a horizon and knew it works.

God simply works and we must learn to simply trust in his workings.

You have lacked nothing. (Deuteronomy 2:7)

Confession XLXIII

2009-01-30T11:34:00.002-05:00

And they prayed and said, “You, Lord, who know the hearts of all, show which one of these two you have chosen...” (Acts 1:24)

I’m out late at night thinking of her. Thinking of when I’ll be back in England. Thinking of my two-week home at Drayton Gardens. That view: when the world was fogged over, distant industrial buildings outlined an imaginary castle like fog brings magic and magic brings thoughts of knights saving fair maidens and the fantastic lives just outside plates of glass when clouds fall or when morning dew ascends the heavens or when life is just simple again.

The night’s done. And now there’s a different window to keep me from the fantastic nature of life. And I wonder how well she sleeps at night. Wonder if it’s as cold there as the snows are piled here. Wonder if the moon hangs its crescent upside down over her latitude. Wonder, I wonder how all of this mess for a separation can come together.

Wonder, I wonder do you remember? the heatless nights on the coldest nights where rivers and even moon light froze like lit cigarettes stubbed out under quick walking side walking feet pushed under pavement to soils, center of the earth: nicotine burials.

And they prayed and said, “You, Lord, who know the hearts of all, show which one of these two you have chosen...” (Acts 1:24)

For the first time the disciples had no one with them. They had no incarnate God in front of their face leading them on. No Son of Man calling them to a new life. No Rabbi teaching. No All-Knowing Being giving them the answer. So they had to pray.

“But God, how do I tell her, say to her, “Hey, it’s going to be okay.” No, it’s not like that. No, I can’t do that. Because God, sometimes I just don’t think that it’s going to work out. Because God, I live so many more than 3,000 miles away from her. Because God, I haven’t been able to speak to her, call her, phone talks long talks repeating simple “I love you’s” in days now; and You know how we thrive on our communication. God, how do I do this, this whole long distance relationship preparing for marriage thing?” And I say it all tired like. All strung out of breath. All gone for words. Seeming like life’s all gone for nothing, there’s nothing like hopelessness stole all of who I once was.

And they prayed and said, “You, Lord, who know the hearts of all...” (Acts 1:24)

And they prayed

and said,

“You,

Lord,

who know

the hearts of all...”

(Acts 1:24)

I get so wrapped up in the imagery in front of my eyes that I can’t see past the fog outside the window. And that’s what most of life is, a fog. We live from day to day not knowing what the next will bring. And when life is perfect we see all castles and romance like sleeping beauties waking up and damsels being rescued from doorless towers. We don’t remember that the reality is those castles we think we see are not castles; they are smoke stacks and brokendown flats, graffitied busted up roofs and all of the Projects lining what might be coined by most as a sad-sad reality for life.

But horizons are never sad because they always lead on into tomorrow, the next.

See, life is not about what we know, it’s about accepting what we don’t know, accepting what we don’t understand. We need to come to grips with the fact that we’re completely ignorant of the next second of our life. We seriously don’t know.

Ask yourself, honestly sit back right now and contemplate your future. Yeah, you might be able to say something like, “Oh, I’m going to graduate from University by the time I’m 22, then I’ll be married within two years of graduating; maybe I’ll have kids when I’m 30; and of course I’ll be minted working on State Street in a window office with my Starbucks coffee in hand and a secretary at my beckoning.” Nice try. Tell me the plan for your life and I’ll tell you, “Good luck kid.”

Don’t read on till you come to terms with your ignorance about the future. And I’m even talking about your immediate future. Then enjoy the brevity that life brings.

It’s so completely unnatural for us to say to God, “You know my heart.” Because in saying that we claim not to know ourselves as well as an Omnipotent Being does. We admit ignorance even when it comes to the most personal or personal – me. We admit a lack of control over even our own lives – me. And most humbling of all, we let go of all our dignity and ask for help because we’re even saying that we’re incapable of helping ourselves – me.

But we need to come to this point. We can’t live our life without realizing that the castles are sometimes not castles at all. That life is not always beautiful, but that it’s horribly dirty, broken down, graffiti drawn on, messed up in all degrees and so completely confusing; that’s not all.

God. Knows. All. Hearts.

So may you understand that your Lord knows your heart. And may you even admit that because God will show you the next. He will lead you on even though He might not be right in front of your face. He will have life sorted; it’s already sorted.

Realize. Relax. Trust.

Confession XLXII

2008-11-21T21:14:00.001-05:00

enough |iˈnəf|

adjective & pronoun

as much or as many as required

• used to indicate that one is unwilling to tolerate any more of something undesirable

adverb

1 to the required degree or extent (used after an adjective, adverb, or verb); adequately : before he was old enough to shave | you're not big enough for basketball.

2 to a moderate degree; fairly : he can get there easily enough | he seems nice enough.

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a Sabbath day’s journey away. (Acts 1:12)

My breath is caught in my chest. High up in my chest, like I need to yell, scream, shout, rant, rage, run away till I’m out of breath and out of land and out of sight from everything that is me in this world.

I want to be alone.

The roads are wet. Nighttime. Lights on flashing, spinning going all crazy-like as cars speed through intersections at rush hour home. The weekend, but nothing’s really ending at all; it’s merely all being put on hold for another day. Monday. Two days coming. The weekend’s never enough.

I would have given anything to be back with my love. To have her in my arms. Hold her. But life won’t allow that for me right now, it’s not like that right now.

I know I’m not the only one.

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a Sabbath day’s journey away. (Acts 1:12)

“Long distance relationships are tough,” she said. “They wear on you emotionally. They get under your skin, you know.”

I said, “Yeah, I know,” and returned to my work. I said it like some scientific expert on some way too tough to even pronounce disease. Said it like there was no breath left in me. I didn’t even want to be at work. Said it semi-depressive, but I don’t even know who I can turn to, who I can tell. Said it like I’ve had enough.

The phone calls aren’t good enough anymore. For the first time, the letter writing made me sad. The talking online, the emailing, the communication through waves and clouds, oceans and skies, and all that’s in between; it’s just not good enough anymore. I need to be with her. I need to see her. I need her to know that whenever she’s having a “freak-out session” that I am right down the street and will come running to be beside her. I need her to know that we’ll work out fine when it comes to daily life and sharing close quarters. But I am miles away, and that’s not good enough.

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a Sabbath day’s journey away. (Acts 1:12)

I am not the only one that feels this way. I’m not the only one who’s lost a love to distance and time. I’m not the only one that’s ever wanted to quit everything so I could go be with her. I’m not the only one who’s felt depressed when I realize the reality of “I can’t.”

But then again, what’s holding me back? Really, I could just drop everything and go be with her. I could risk the flight over, risk the detention at Heathrow, risk the interrogation again, risk the 7 hours of sleeping on chairs, and risk the possibility of not being allowed into the country. Because, when it comes to following love, what is enough?

Maybe the question should be phrased, “What isn’t enough?” “What am I not giving? Sacrificing?” The question doesn’t include, “What am I called to give?” Or, “What’s expected of me?” Because love itself, for no other reason, simply loves; it does not expect and it does not have a quota to meet.

Well, you say to me, “No – I can’t get through this. I can’t do this – no, no it’s not me; it’s? It’s way too big for me. This whole situation I’m stuck in. This whole life story down in the digs – this thing that is me and around me...I just can’t.” And you say it after you’ve lost all breath like there’s no other way, like you’re actually not getting through it. And for a moment you’ve convinced me that this one time God’s not going to pull through and give you just enough grace to make it.

Because to God, what is enough?

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a Sabbath day’s journey away. (Acts 1:12)

Even after Christ was taken from the disciples, their first love, their passion, their reason for living – even after all of that was taken, they still went on with life. Because Christ himself was not enough, but Christ in this world – well, that’s it. It’s like, now the disciples weren’t just meant to be with Christ, they were meant to live as Christ did. They were meant to continue.

And the Sabbath was the beginning. The washing themselves, the making themselves clean, the removing the evil of their deeds from before their eyes was the start. The ceasing to do evil, but learning good; the seeking justice and correcting oppression; the bringing justice to the fatherless and pleading the widows’ cause – that, that was the very beginning of Christianity (Isaiah 1:16&17).

And today’s Christianity is still not enough.

My “Christian walk” is not enough. I’m meant to continue even though I’ve seen my love off. I’m meant to journey that Sabbath. I’m meant to do right by those who’ve been wronged. And I’m meant to love for no other reason than to love.

I told her, “I love you.” Then hung up the phone.

Love itself doesn’t end even though your love’s gone. So continue on.

Confession XLXI

2008-11-13T17:47:00.001-05:00

I find myself always thinking of her. Maybe all of this thinking could be coined obsession, but is an obsessive love truly a bad thing? A love that says, “I will always be with you, no matter what, till the end.” A love that says, “Even if you’re thousands of miles away from me, you’ll still be stepping close on my mind and on my heart; I will always be remembering you.” A love that says, “ I don’t ever want to leave you.”

But then that day came. The drive to the airport should have been never-ending, but it ended all too quickly. And my love left me.

And I drove away from her.

And while they were gazing into heaven as he went, behold, two men stood by them in white robes, and said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven?” (Acts 1:10-11)

If only I could have run after that plane. Stood on the other side of the fence at the end of the runway so maybe she could see me waving goodbye. And I’d stand there till the plane was out of sight so maybe she would be able to look down and see me fade with the distance.

But that only happens in the movies.

For those of us who do not live in the movies we must bring our eyes down from our lost loves. We must realize that life doesn’t end in that one moment. That the music does not crescendo playing sweet lullabies leaving us lingering in tragic happiness.

“Why do you stand looking into heaven?” (Acts 1:11)

Even in the most unfortunate circumstances, we must move on. I’m not saying we move on from our love. That we forget our love. That we leave it all behind and act like the past seven months never happened.

No, I’m saying we should constantly think on that love knowing that in the end we’ll be re-united. Knowing that when tomorrow comes we will not be left staring forlornly into the heavens. Because if we are caught with our eyes set to where we think we should be, or to who we think we should be with, or to how we think life should be lived then we will miss a God-given reality.

Seriously, the real tragedy is not losing your love, but it’s losing all that your love’s left for you. Yeah, your love was amazing. She left you wanting more. She gave you the fondest of memories. She aroused you to live life like tomorrow might never come. She challenged you. She loved you back. She was your best friend. She was more than you could have ever dreamed of.

But wait – wait, why are you still staring into the heavens even though her plane’s no longer over the eastern seaboard? Why aren’t you doing something with life? Why aren’t you preparing for the future? Why aren’t you living out that hope to be back with one another?

See, we live in an obsessive culture. We see what we want. We go crazy saying things like, “I got to have that.” “Bro, doesn’t that blow your mind. I wonder how much it costs.” When someone asks us if we want more or if we want a larger size then bring on the next round because the words “I’ll take it” slide off the tongue so gracefully and easily and so quickly. And we get what we want. But when we don’t get it, then that’s all we think about. We obsess about. We crave, craze, gaze, wish-for, need, must have like “must have” were the last words we knew to say because it comes at the moment when we think we’re completely dehydrated and water is the only thing that will save our life.

But that’s only what we think. And then that’s only what we do.

We’re wrong.

We may think we know what we need, but there is something so much greater than we could have ever imagined out there for us. We don’t need to be staring into the heavens, picking out all the constellations, squinting to see the farthest of regions the Universe has to hold. No. Our world is at our feet. Our future is at eye level. And tomorrow is just a reach away.

Tell me that the heavens hold the key to changing the world and I’ll tell you that our Savior God let that key drop, fall to the ground, find it’s way to your stoop, and hid itself under the door step claiming “WELCOME.”

So please, go outside. Look at that mat. Lift it up. Pick up the key. And change the world.

“WELCOME.”

To the reality Jesus left for us.

Confession XLX

2008-11-06T17:51:00.002-05:00

“I’ll see you sooner than you think.”

She was silent. She barely even looked at me. But I’m not sure if she could look at me. It wasn’t because I upset her. It wasn’t any malicious act against me. She just stared out the window and I bet she knew the airport was approaching quickly.

The sunrise was beautiful. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it before. As it aged the horizon kept dropping, but the clouds stayed on one level. There was a clear divide between cloud and sky then sky and horizon. And the sun shone with all the brilliance of thousands of years of practice.

“I have hope. You’ll see me again in January.”

She looked over not even knowing what to say. [Silence.]

I watched my love walk into Terminal E. And I drove away.

So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom of Israel?” He said to them, “It is not for you to know the times or season that the Father has fixed by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:6-8).

I don’t know when I’ll see her again. I don’t know why it has to be this way. I don’t know how to change our not being together. I simply don’t know. And I’ve asked the Lord. I’ve sought him out for all of this. Asked, “Why me God? Why can’t we be together? Why couldn’t I at least live in the same country so maybe I could just walk to her house?”

And it seems as though God’s been silent on the matter. Or maybe he’s re-focusing my outlook on life. Maybe he’s taking my eyes off my own plight and heartache so that I can see the famous “bigger” picture of life.

All too often I get caught up in my own affairs. It’s all about me:

I don’t have enough money to go out tonight.

I don’t have enough time to go to the gym.

I can’t take two hours out of my time to sit down and write or study the Bible.

Then I pass the homeless man in Boston. He asks me for change. And I say, “Sorry, I have no change.” Well, that’s true. But there’s also probably an ATM right around the corner. There’s probably a McDonald’s, a Tedeschi’s, or any sort of food-carrying store right behind where this homeless man stands. And of course there are American Eagles, Macy’s, H&M’s, J C Penny’s, and plenty of places to buy him a pair of socks, or shoes or even a jacket. But no. I can’t.

I can’t give to another human being when he asks me simply for a little change.

And in the end I am appalling.

Don’t focus on yourself. But don’t merely concern yourself with your own situations and your own walks in life and your own mistakes and failings and happiness, sadness, hurt, tears, joys, wonderful moments, lasting memories – don’t merely consume yourself with you.

But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:8).

I couldn’t stop thinking about her as I drove away. I kept wondering when I’d see her again. Kept wondering if this is truly the way it’s meant to be for now. Kept wanting to go back to the airport and stop her from getting on the plane. Wanted to make our goodbye longer so it would never turn into a goodbye. I wanted to be with my love. That’s all.

But God immediately took me in another direction. He didn’t have to tell me I’d be all right. He didn’t have to tell me everything would work out. Because he already did that in the three weeks he gave me to spend with her. But he had to tell me to look elsewhere, to look to the ends of the earth.

Just like he took the disciples’ eyes off their passion, he took my eyes off my love. And he placed them on greater things to come. He showed me the world. He told me I would go out and change the world. He told me that I had the power to do so because he had given me the power. And he reminded me of his promise to never leave me.

Sometimes life is way too much to handle and too easily we get caught up in ourselves. But God’s got something so far beyond the magnitude of our troubles and our self. And it seems like the grand scheme of life is to go, and to serve and to simply do.

So may you set your eyes not on yourself, but on others. And may you find that God’s given you the world. All that’s required of you is to do something and to do it for the sole reason that you love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind and your neighbor as yourself (Luke 10:27).

Think

2008-09-06T15:06:00.002-04:00

Think about this: my life for the Gospel.

UA Flight 922 - Part XIV

2008-09-02T21:28:00.003-04:00

I don’t know how I found myself in that detention hall that night. I knew I was going to have some troubles getting through the border, but I didn’t think I was going to be treated like an international criminal. But God had some crazy plan for me through all this. He had his reasons behind allowing me to go through such trials.

Honestly, I don’t know how I came to be in such a predicament. I thought I did everything the right way. I thought I procured all the documents they needed. Thought I proved myself to them. Thought it was going to end up all right in the end.

I mean, I wrote so many letters to the government. There was no way they could turn me away. I had everything they needed, or so I thought.

Okay, so my original Volunteer visa was refused because I was missing one single document. I furnished it later when I sent in my Visitor visa application. I figured I could just send in those documents and re-apply without actually paying the $220 cost. I was wrong. Figured I could go to England and finish sorting out my immigration troubles with their Home Office.

I wonder if they would believe me. I wonder if they would actually realize I just wanted to help. I wonder if anyone would understand...

Dear Sir or Madam:

Tonight I am before you to speak to you with urgency. I need to tell you a story. It’s a story of a man who’s been thrown to the side of the road. It’s not one of those Hollywood blockbusters. There are no pirates, no knights rescuing their maidens in distress from dragons then gallantly riding off into the sunset; there’s not even any shooting, any guns, any war or anything remotely resembling a pop-culture hit. But this story is about life; it is about the culture we’re immersed in.

And it is sad.

Please promise me you won’t feel guilty after hearing it because those are not my intentions.

I struggle to tell this story, but I know it’s my duty to let the world take a glimpse at a man they pass by every day. They don’t even notice – we don’t even notice. We skip by him merrily on our own way as he sits out in broad daylight. He sits at the top of Main Street. He sits in a garden, a park the size of a sand trap at a golf course. He owns no luxury of a golfer nor does he even resemble a grounds keeper. Yet he keeps a bench for two or three by himself – alone.

And behold, a lawyer stood up to put him to the test, saying, “Teacher what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the Law? How do you read it?”

And he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10: 25-27)

But John’s not our neighbor. He resides on a bench in Plymouth. He sleeps on the porch of the Church of the Pilgrimage. He uses public toilets for his own privacy. He has no home. He is not my neighbor. I have no call to love him as myself. None.

I mean, I’m in Middleboro, or you say to me, “Well, I live in Carver.” Or “I’m from Lakeville.” “You know, it takes me 40 minutes to drive from Brockton.” And still others might travel from even farther away.

A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him and departed, leaving him half dead. (Luke 10:30)

“Leaving him half dead.” John sits on that bench with tubes protruding from his nose. They make their way to a green oxygen tank that he wheels around wherever he goes. Tubes that allow him to breathe, but not our air. Our air is too good for him. Our air is free. Our air is something that we don’t think about. The God of the universe has given us breath for life and we don’t even think about the gallons of oxygen we hoard every single moment of the day. It’s not even every single waking moment; it is every moment including our dreams, when we sleep, and when we are ignorant of what’s going on in the world. We breathe the breath of Yahweh.

Some pronounce the name ‘Yahweh’ or ‘Yahveh,’ although in many traditions the name isn’t even pronounced, because it’s considered so sacred, so mysterious, so holy. In fact, the ancient rabbis believed that these letters actually functioned kind of as vowels in the Hebrew language. They believed that they were kind of breathing sounds and that ultimately the name is simply unpronounceable because the letters together are essentially the sound of breathing. Yod, Heh, Vav, Heh. (Rob Bell)

You see – John collapsed in my store over two years ago. Hands shaking. Never steadying, though you could see he tried to hold his coffee and not spill it. Then he sat down. Sat down like a normal customer with a normal job and a normal place to live. He was normal till the coffee went splashing to the ground like waves over a levy. And his drink beat him to the floor. The table rocked back and forth, metal screeching on wood. John didn’t get up.

Those moments were like a reel of film caught on its slowest gear. The scenes played back. Repeated over and over. But John still lay on the floor. The ambulance was called. We tried to get him up. Tried to pick him up and put him back in the chair.

It was a mess.

Now by chance a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. (Luke 10:31)

I passed by John the other day. I like to call him Old Man John. He gave me that same smile he always gives me. But I don’t know how he still has the will to smile. I don’t know how he can smile given the circumstances. Maybe he smiles knowing he beat cancer two years ago. Knowing that even though the doctors told him he’d only live up to another six months, he got to prove them wrong. Or maybe it’s the simple reason that I visited him. That I stopped to sit next to him. That I didn’t pass him by, but I’m most likely not even one percent of the world he sees everyday.

So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. (Luke 10:32)

All too often I don’t give the homeless a second thought. I don’t give another human being room to dwell in my head. I just don’t think about him. But homelessness is not a cause, it is a people. And this group of people is compiled of individuals. And these individuals are just like you and me. The only difference is they’ve fallen on tough times. “Being poor means being an illness, an accident, or a paycheck away from living on the streets” (NCH).

John’s lived on the streets for the past two years since he collapsed in Kiskadee that day. He’s fought cancer and won, even though he still smokes a butt every now and then. He still smiles every time I wave at him, or bring him company, or buy him a coffee with loads of room for cream and sugar like he’s trying to regain some of the sweetness about life in a cup of House Blend. But I don’t think the coffee warms him up. He says he has no feeling left in his hands, that’s why he never takes the sleeve for the cup.

I think he drinks it for the satisfaction of feeling normal again. Feeling like he’s actually a part of society. Part of the town he helped to build. The other day he turned to me and said, “I was like you one time – a young 26-year-old coming up in the world. I had a life and a job and a home.” John eventually had a wife that he loved as well. And boys that he fathered. He said, “You know, I worked and I worked hard. The others were always screwing around. It was like life was a competition then.”

I think John’s still competing for life. Possibly waiting for someone to notice him.

But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion. (Luke 10:33)

Now “Compassion” as defined by the Oxford American Dictionaries is “sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings and misfortunes of others.” That definition mentions nothing about the homeless. It doesn’t mention foreigners. It doesn’t mention anyone who could possibly be grouped as someone different from our-self. It merely says “the sufferings and misfortunes or others.” Those others include John. They include the man who fell among robbers and was then stripped and beaten till he was nearly dead. Those others mean you and me at a time when we may fall by the wayside, maybe even into a place where people just pass us by on the other side of the road.

But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion. (Luke 10:33, emphasis added)

In the Latin that word “compassion” or “compati” means to “suffer with.”

You see – John always sits to the left side of the bench. I guess he keeps that extra space open for others to sit. But no one’s going to sit. No one ever takes up the offer. To the world he’s another homeless man. He’s just one of approximately 750,000 men, women, and children who on any given night are homeless in the US (National Alliance to End Homelessness). To us, he’s the less fortunate, the beggar even though he never asks for a dime; he’s the man who can’t breathe for himself, who has tubes for extra facial features, who’s losing hair all matted in clumps underneath that old baseball cap of his, which looks more like an American turban falling apart at the seams; he’s that man whose stomach is bloated because an ulcer is ripping at his insides; and he’s that man who, no matter how hard he worked in the past, is still homeless tonight.

And somehow, he can manage a smile.

To me, John is a statue on that Plymouth bench. John is the reminder of the life I lead. And he is a reminder of the life God’s made me to live. Because God – the God of the summer that’s gone, of all the good times we’ve had at the beach with our friends, of all of our laughter and those times we will never forget, and of the adventure that comes when we run wild into the ocean on that first hot day in June is the God who’s still at play in John’s life even as he’s finding it tough to tread the waters he ventured into.

And that same God prompts us to ask the question, “Well, who actually is my neighbor?” But figuring out who is your neighbor, is only the first step. We then have to love our neighbor.

But a Samaritan as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion. He went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring oil and wine. Then he set him on his own animal and brought him to an inn and took care of him. And the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take care of him, and whatever more you spend, I will repay you when I come back.’ (Luke 10:33-35)

You see – love is continual. It’s the type of love that says, “Okay, so this guy is a complete stranger to me, and he’s not looking so hot. I wonder if I should help?” And I’d say that most of us get to that point where we question what we should do, if we should do anything at all. But God’s prompting us to take it one step farther. God’s saying, “Yeah, he is a stranger to you, but don’t leave him that way. Give him all I’ve given you. Love with what little love you might have. You’ll still have me. I’ll always be here for you, but now it’s your turn to be there for that man who’s struggling to stay above the waves of life. Don’t worry, I’m with you on this one.”

Henry Alden, an early 20^th century journalist for Harper Magazine, put it this way:

Even His Almightiness is eclipsed by His All-lovingness. He is the father, and we are to recognise Him as such, chiefly in that we love all men as brethren. He ministers unto us and not we unto Him; we serve Him only in serving all men. In loving his brother whom he hath seen, man loves God whom he hath not seen. The loving human fellowship is the real diving communion...In loving one another we find God.

Not only do we find God, but we also find life. As Jesus said to the lawyer earlier in verse 28, “You have answered correctly; do this, and you will live.” He was referring to first loving God and then showing that same love to your neighbor.

I realize none of you know Old Man John, but I bet you can think of your own John that you see in the every day. I bet you can find that less fortunate kid at school. Maybe he’s the kid everyone picks on, you know, the less popular kid. Or, maybe he’s the most popular kid, but somehow you can see it’s all a facade and that he’s hiding something really personal. It could be the quiet kid sitting in the back of the room not really paying attention to the lesson. It could be anyone really.

But you have the responsibility to ask the question, “Who is my neighbor?” And then you must act accordingly. Because, let me say, the most “recent study, published in 2002, reported there are an estimated 1,682,900 homeless and runaway youth” (NCH). And “according to the National Alliance to End Homelessness, five to seven percent of American youths become homeless in any given year.”

The homeless are individuals just like you and me.

You know, I can’t explain homelessness, but that’s not what I’m called to do. I’m called to help – you’re called to help, to do something for another, to love your neighbor as yourself. In this respect, the reasons don’t matter much; it’s what you do to change the situation that matters most. Because you have the ability to help the homeless gain a home, especially youth.

Living in shelters or on the streets, unaccompanied homeless youth are at higher risk for physical and sexual assault or abuse and physical illness, including HIV/AIDS. Furthermore, homeless youth are at a higher risk for anxiety disorders, depression, posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and suicide because of increased exposure to violence while living on their own. Overall, homeless youth are also likely to become involved in prostitution, to use and abuse drugs, and to engage in other dangerous and illegal drugs. (National Alliance to End Homelessness)

Do you get it? You have the ability to save a life. And it’s simple. It only takes a moment. I’m not downplaying the work that might be involved in bringing aid to someone in need; I’m merely trying to show you that it takes a split-second decision to say, “Hey, I’m going to love on someone else just like God’s done with me.”

You will be that Samaritan who showed mercy.

You will be that person who helps a homeless youth out of a shelter because “in 2005, a survey indicated that prior to shelter 79 percent of homeless youth were attending school on a regular basis” (National Alliance to End Homelessness).

You will be there for the 2.5 to 3.5 million people who will live either on the streets or in an emergency shelter over the course of this year (National Alliance to End Homelessness).

You will be that person who fills the empty seat next to John because even the most simple of acts can be a life changing experience for someone else.

And you will love the God of everything you know “with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind” (Luke 10:27).

So may you question who you neighbor is, today. And may you not pass him by the next time you see him.

(Note: This message was shared at Merge Youth Ministries)

UA Flight 922 - Part XIII

2008-09-02T00:46:00.002-04:00

It seems like just yesterday I drove you home from the airport. I made a playlist on my iPod for you. I wanted the ride home to be perfect. I wanted you to have your own soundtrack so you could remember each moment in song.

I waited anxiously in the lobby. Terminal E. I got there way too early; I didn’t want to be late. But I forgot flowers. They were at home waiting for you in your soon to be bedroom-for-a-month. With a card. And then there was the story I wrote you. Orange polka dotted journal with poems and dreams and hopes and life and – well, I waited to write, “I Love You” till the very end because that’s the one thing I wanted you to hold onto the most. It didn’t matter if you forgot the whole story because soon we’d get to make it up as we go. But I always wanted you to keep those words in mind, on heart and hide them deep in your eyes. No other words would fit.

I waited for months to tell you. I tested the world with those words. I fought to find out if I really meant them; I found it was all true. I tested them in prayer. And God gave me more love to give to you. I tested my tongue and kept patience, kept silence; I wouldn’t let love arouse itself before it so desired.

And now I wait again to tell you in person.

“But we have to wait my darling. My love. The timing isn’t right for us to be together, walk together side by side and each in hand till...”

Behold, you are beautiful, my beloved,

behold, you are beautiful.

Words seem worthless today. I try calling you, but it fails; you didn’t pick up. I wait for you to call; you never called. I try writing you, but all I write over and over is “I miss you.” And words are worthless because they cannot convey how heartsick I am for you. They cannot show the struggle of being without you but only wanting you – here, with me. They cannot yell as loud as my lungs let loose when I realize I’m here without you. And that realization haunts me every day.

They cannot capture your beauty.

They cannot hold your hand for me.

They cannot kiss you goodnight.

They cannot wake you up.

They cannot tickle you when you’re ticklish after some wine.

They cannot laugh with you and joke with you and poke fun at you.

They cannot watch you as you walk up to me – slow motion, near motionless with your dress dancing in a breeze, flowered and summer-sun-lit like you are the main attraction.

They cannot hug you, hold you, squeeze you till you laugh like it’s all a reminder that I’ll never let you go.

They cannot run fingers through your hair.

They cannot make millions of faces at you.

They cannot pick you up and swing you around.

They cannot bring you out for dinner.

They cannot walk you home at night.

They cannot listen to you.

They cannot lie with you in the sun; try protecting you from sunburns even if Marconi beach burns your bum to the point that you cannot sit down without a blanket.

They cannot carry all of your belongings for you or shoulder your burdens or be there like a friend, one of those friends who stays up with you all night to make sure you dream sweetly even if the next day brings you an excess amount of stress.

They cannot bring you to coffee shops or out for tea.

They cannot pack a picnic, drive to the beach, then sit in the car like its our blanket because we’re acting like the day is perfect even in the rain.

They cannot play truth or dare with you.

They cannot play cards with you.

They cannot watch movies with you.

They cannot nap with you on the couch.

They cannot go for long drives with you, alone on back roads through forests and round the lakes up to Maine and back again till you get sick of it, but I hope you never get sick of me.

They cannot be intimate with you.

They cannot love you like I love you.

Behold, you are beautiful, my love,

behold, you are beautiful!

I don’t know if you’ve ever been so heartsick that it keeps you awake at night. Like a restless insomniac. Or like a person who just likes looking at the stars.

I keep the blinds open at night. Sometimes I lay there looking out. Tonight I wandered into a field. I fled from all the lights. I traipsed into the unknown till it was me and the heavens shooting their rocks like marbles flaring through the moon’s veil. And I thought of you.

You are altogether beautiful, my love;

there is no flaw in you.

I thought maybe I could catch her a star. But the stars seemed out of reach tonight. And yet I couldn’t get over the wonder and awe of a God who’s created constellations to connect the dots from adventure to life – a life in the wild in the raw naked sky. I got lost looking up.

This might sound like gibberish to you. You might say I’m out of my mind. But when you’re in love there’s nothing else you think about. You spend your days waiting to go home and see her. You keep spinning your phone in your hand just in case she calls. You sit down to write her letters but you never finish them because you tell her what you wrote before you send it off.

Love is a continual action, an obsession of sorts, but healthy in every degree.

You have captivated my heart...

you have captivated my heart with

one glance of your eyes.

She told me once, “You can’t help who you fall in love with, but you have to choose what you do about it.”

I told her I missed her. Said I’d be seeing her soon. Said I’d bring jewels and wonders from far off lands.

She laughed and thought I was crazy, but she said, “I love you.”

And I was content to wait one more day.

How beautiful is your love...

UA Flight 922 - Part XII

2008-08-31T22:14:00.001-04:00

Michael Kane escorted me back to the holding room. It was the longest walk. Well, that night all the walks were long. I kept pushing a trolley, which held what material life I decided to hoard. When was I going to be there – London, you know? When was I going to arrive at my destination?

Before going into the detention hall I had to get forcefully introduced to a not-so-nice guard. She was totally in a state that night – that not-wanting-to-be-at-work type state. Well, she had to put up with me. The Christian kid who really wasn’t looking for any trouble. The one who actually only spoke when spoken to. The one that cooperated during the whole ordeal. The one that was not holding a bomb or any sharp object as one might suspect.

The little Anglo-Indian guard asked me to hold out my arms. To put them in that “T” position. Maybe she was measuring the size of the cross I’d have to carry. I don’t think she realized the cross I already carried. But to be honest, I don’t think I fully understood the weight of that cross either.

It’s not like I held the weight of the world on my shoulders. Not like I was shouldering someone else’s burden or like I was shouldering anything for that matter. My intentions were pure that Monday; I wanted to move to England to work in ministry. I wanted to help people. Choose the humanitarian act over the selfish. Choose the God who pulls a dark blanket over the twilight sky, but leaves holes for stars so I’m guided on those long walks into tomorrow.

I chose that God that night; I chose the love from my youth.

You know – side story – I sat in church today and realized the complete and utter joy of being in God’s presence. I wasn’t the first to realize that ecstasy though. There was this little boy bobbing up and down in his father’s arms during worship. The music blasting. Amber singing to a God who weather’s all storms with us, a God who is both the definition of grace and the experience of magnificence; magnificent grace, such unexpected love. I was alone with God in a crowd of people. Fellowship. Intimacy. Faithful love.

I can’t really explain how God caught my eye in that moment. Or how he focused me on heaven, eternity or even on himself. But this little boy reminded me of the pure untainted never-been-jaded-before pleasure of being with the love of my youth. The boy’s simple smile. Giggles galore. Eyes wide open. Hands bashing and clapping without any rhythm or rhyme or coordination at all. It was a sight of pure happiness.

I fell in love with my Lord again earlier today. Because he showed me the hope for life. And I kept eyes wide open to see it all.

Ponder the path of your feet;

then all your ways will be sure. (Proverbs 4:26)

That night back in detention, I never asked anyone where I was going or what was happening to me. It never occurred to me that they’d answer me back. To me they were machines doing their job. I guess that’s how I detached myself from the situation. They were simply characters out of Orwell’s 1984 and I was not at all expecting to disappear into the Ministry of Love like Syme.

I never disappeared, but everyone else did. I was alone again. Nervous for the impending decision and thinking about nothing else.

Even though I say I should have had my mind set on God at that point, I think it would have been a bit too overwhelming for me. I mean, how can a person think on the God of completely everything that’s ever existed and does exist and will ever exist while going through complete chaos in a foreign country? It’s in this place that I noticed a separation.

I was literally separated from everything that I know. My telling people prior to my trip, “I’m leaving everything I’ve known for 23 years,” held true during those 36 hours. I had the clothes that were on my back and the prayers that were in my heart. And that’s the second separation: my heart from the rest of me.

I prayed because I didn’t know what else to do. I rocked back and forth like a mental person in a psyche ward. My hands shook and never steadied. I couldn’t sit still. I paced the tiles and with every loop I thought the nightmare would end, that I’d be taken back home like some male version of Dorothy. It never happened. Each time I turned the same two cups and half eaten sandwich littered the one little table between the chairs.

I prayed. I asked God what was going on. “God, what the hell is going on? Come on God, let me know something, let me see something; give me something Lord. I’m freakin’ out. God, come on. Help me. Please. God.” And the words just kept shooting off my tongue like chewing tobacco to the ground. It was an addiction of sorts talking to the God who’s overcome the world. I knew nothing else in those moments except him who saves.

Ponder the path of your feet;

then all your ways will be sure. (Proverbs 4:26)

I wasn’t sure what was happening. Why was I alone? What was God’s purpose for letting me go through this whole thing? Where was God in all of this?

I’d sit frantically, then I’d get up frantically. Maybe I sound like a skitz or a spatz, some kid on ADD or shooting coke or coming off a high and trying to get sober. Time never skipped so slow, never dragged so far behind, never breathed a breath like holding it under water and watching the world cough with the waves till your faced swelled a red and you couldn’t hold it any longer – one second.

I wasn’t calm when I was alone.

Ponder the path of your feet;

then all your ways will be sure. (Proverbs 4:26)

You know, I found reason to praise God this morning, to return to the love of my youth. I’ve found a reason to praise his name for the past two weeks. And tomorrow it will most likely be the same story. Because even though I was unsure of life for 36 hours and even though it took me days to adjust back to an American lifestyle, God made all of my ways sure.

UA Flight 922 - Part XI

2008-08-30T22:52:00.001-04:00

Thus says the Lord of hosts, Render true judgments, show kindness and mercy to one another, do not oppress the widow, the fatherless, the sojourner, or the poor and let non of you devise evil against another in your heart. (Zechariah 7:9&10)

Night’s come. I wonder where John is. I bet he’s sleeping on the porch outside the church. That means he has to get up early tomorrow; it’s Sunday. I don’t think he’s the religious type, but he has that exposure every day. I mean, God’s got to see the man. He’s got to know about Old Man John’s situation.

I wonder if anyone else notices him? All they probably see is some helpless homeless guy. But John’s a fighter and none of them know that. None of them know that John beat cancer. That he was only meant to live for six months and the doctors said that over two years ago.

No one knows that he hates breathing. I’ve never met a person that doesn’t like breathing. Someone that actually abhors breathing. Let alone, someone that thinks about breathing. It’s a task for him, a mission. It’s nothing that comes natural any more; he lives by the oxygen from a tank. And he lives by a purchased tank of air – John, a poor man having to use his social security check to buy air just so he can breathe when he doesn’t even want to breathe any more.

He purchases the very physical essence life, while it’s free for the rest of us.

No one should ever have to buy their own air, their own breath, their own life. No one should have to buy their own life from a pharmacy. No – no one should have to buy their own life. No one. No one should have to buy their own life support. Then live on a bench. Then sleep on a porch. Then have to wait for the public restrooms to open just to excrete what bodily fluids you have left.

“I don’t go in public. There’s something messed up about that. All them kids from the bars piss in the graveyard or in the alleys. That’s messed up. You don’t s*** in public,” John sternly told me. “I’ll wait. I’ll wait till it’s morning and those restrooms over there open. Even if it hurts, I’ll wait.”

I didn’t know what to say back to that. There was nothing.

I never even thought about the toilet matter before. It just didn’t occur to me whenever I gave a homeless person some change. What a simple need. You know, I take that for granted – going to the bathroom. My house has 2 ½ baths in it. That means I have three toilets in one house. John – John waits on the town.

We’re all the same. We all have the same needs, but most of us don’t even acknowledge those needs. Right now I’m sitting with a full glass of water. And I’ll probably be running to the toilet soon enough. But I can. I have those facilities at my disposal.

You know, I remember having to hold “it” when I was younger. I remember those infamous family trips. You know, the ones where you drive for hours on end without ever reaching your destination. And I was totally the kid always complaining, “Are we there yet?” The one that never shuts up. The one that could come up with a million-and-one noises to keep myself occupied. And “holding my horses” was never fun. Being patient and waiting for the toilet was literally a pain. To the point that sometimes we did have to pull over.

It’s only peeing. It’s only a simple matter of peeing. But it’s not so simple to John. Someone who still holds his dignity in life. Someone who knows manners to a certain extent. Someone who knows the difference between defacing a hallowed piece of property with your own fecal matter and respect. And that someone sleeps on a porch, resides on a bench, and watches the world pass him by while he struggles to breathe taxed air.

I’ve lived 23 years with hardly acknowledging those less fortunate than me. Sure, I’ve gone on mission trips to the poorest cities in the world – the City of the Sun built on a dump. I’ve emptied my pockets for a beggar – another human. I’ve given to the poor contrite silent man standing outside the Vatican walls with his hat out hoping to hear a clink. I’ve bought little meals for the poor – bought them waters, and sandwiches and said a quick “God bless you” then moved on with life. I’ve bought the Big Issue they sell so they might have the chance at earning a small living. I’ve sat with them before and talked, but only if I knew them like I knew John.

Then I’ve called myself a man after God’s own heart.

But there’s still something wrong with this. The switch in thinking I’m pursuing God while leaving others in the dust. They’re two different mentalities clashing.

Pursue God.
Give to others.

Those two walks in life seem like they should be on the same road. I think they are.

What do you think?

UA Flight 922 - Part X

2008-08-29T13:46:00.002-04:00

Michael Kane took his time with the paperwork. I don’t know if I was daydreaming or just too overwhelmed, but if you looked at me you’d probably think I was a crash test dummy waiting for the car to hit the wall. It’s like those moments when you don’t want to get up in the morning. You keep hitting the snooze button. A late eight o’clock came way too quick. Each five minute interval between the hospitalizing beeps you lay there, tossing and turning, struggling with the bed sheets and the sun and finding the right sleep position again – that perfect mold of you in your bed – just so you don’t have to wake up on Friday. It doesn’t matter what day it is. This is one of those re-occurring, almost ritualistic things you do every morning.

I was stuck in that state between sleep and awake. That state where you’re conscious of everything, but you don’t comprehend it.

In a way, that’s almost how we walk around from day to day. Yeah, we are conscious of the day and we go through all the motions, but I can’t say for sure that we’re actually living the day. Okay, okay, we’re living; I don’t doubt that, but I think there’s a difference between merely going through the motions – having your heart beat millions of times – and living each second of the day like it’s a new time.

To the pure in heart, all things are pure, but to the defiled and unbelieving, nothing is pure; but both their minds and their consciences are defiled. They profess to know God, but they deny him by their works. They are detestable, disobedient, unfit for any good work. (Titus 1:15&16)

I found Old Man John sitting on his bench. He always sits right at the top of Main Street in front of the stone church. A little park the size of a sand trap on a golf course is there. It has maybe three trees, which are all starting to become burnt from the summer sun. There are two benches. John always sits on the one facing the road. I think he likes to watch the world pass him by like it’s some sort of masochistic routine.

He usually sits to the left side of the bench. It’s very inviting, but only if you knew him. If not, he just seems like yet another homeless man. Just another homeless man with his hair disheveled and falling out from under his baseball cap. I think he’s had the same baseball cap his whole life. It resembles more of an American turban caving in at the seams and flopping over like a rag doll in a little girl’s arms. He sits there with his stomach bloated. I only thought John put on some weight while he was away on the Cape at the hospital. But when I was talking with Jaresiah, he told me John had an ulcer that kept expanding and ripping his sides. Said they can’t operate because he’s not healthy enough.

I don’t know how John came to be a statue on that bench – the lonely man with a tank of air always as a companion. The tubes are merely another part of his body at this point. And to think, he still smokes a butt every now and then. He’s still addicted to the one thing that I know helped him come to live on that bench.

You see. I used to know John as a customer of mine. I used to serve him his small coffee with plenty of room for cream and milk. Maybe that was the only way for him to sweeten life a little bit. Maybe life had become too bitter and the black coffee reminded him of that. It was always House Blend. No sleeve; he says there isn’t any feeling left in his hands so it doesn’t matter anyways. And he’d join the Mensa group like a normal person. At least, what we think of as normal. You know, a person who brings home a paycheck, has a place to live and goes about life like the rest of us. That’s what normal is, right?

You and me, we’re normal. But what about that man begging for change? What about that drunk stumbling out of a bar right before noontime? What about that obnoxious kid in school always having to stay after for detention? Or that kid who buys the porn mags? Or that girl everyone calls a whore because we all believe what others say and they say she gets around? You know, that slut, that prostitute, the killer, murderer, kidnapper, thief, business man, athlete, lawyer, doctor, that person with AIDS, HIV positive, that churchgoer, Jesus lover, that woman sitting across from you on the Tube all dressed in her black hijab, cripple war vet, mentally retarded person, preacher, or that nigger, chink, cracker, red neck, that Bible-basher, gospel singer, Jehovah’s witness walking to your doorstep, or your neighbor; what about anyone you see on any given day, are they normal in your eyes?

I almost passed by John that day and proved the point that he truly was just another person in my eyes. Someone who I don’t have to say “hello” to even though we both noticed each other. I couldn’t walk away because I knew he saw me. I’m not sure if I could even walk away if he didn’t see me. There would still be something in me saying, “Turn around. Go back to him. Say hi. At least say hi.”

I sat with the man. I took that inviting seat to watch the world with him. And he told me about everyone he saw.

“I saw that guy grow up.” John was talking about this man who came back from getting his coffee. A young business-looking man driving a nice Porsche. “He’s going to own all of Plymouth one day, just like his father.”

“John, seems like you know most people in town,” I said to him.

“Well, that’s what happens when you help to build the place. You know, I wasn’t always like this. I was like you before – a young 26-year old building these buildings. I had it all. The others f***ed around.” John was never the best with his words. He always had the tongue of someone who’d seen too many winters out in the cold. He knew life for what it was, but somehow he still managed to smile. “But I had it all,” he kept saying.

And I dare not ask his definition of life. I didn’t have to; I saw the effects of such a cruel world on him. How they sent him to the streets. How he went from living above the old court house one day, to collapsing before my eyes.

His hands were shaking that day. He couldn’t even hold his cup of coffee. And his cough was something I’d never heard before. Like he was coughing up his insides. His whole heart trying to escape, gasp for air. He went to sit. Coffee spilled. The metal table screeched like it was dragged across the entire floor as it rocked back and forth finding balance. Next thing you know we were calling for an ambulance. I never saw what happened. It was more like a reel of film caught on the slowest setting. The point in a movie when everything goes black and white because there’s too much reality to take in. The point when the music builds and builds to a deafening silence.

I saw a movie play in front of me. Reality was too much to handle. And that’s how it hit me – only as a film.

You see. My heart breaks for Old Man John. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s that he is less fortunate than me. I asked him where he’s sleeping now. He pointed over to the Church of the Pilgrimage and told me it was on that porch. Said he was waiting for his social security check to come so he could find a place. He didn’t want to stay in Plymouth anymore.

But it was nearing 7:00 and I had to get onto work. He was telling me of this little bird who’d been making its home in a nest above us. Talked of this bird like it was his best friend. “Couldn’t believe that the other day it had sat there next to me,” he said. And now I found the real reason why he always stayed to one side of the bench.

You know, with this story I’m not saying you should go up to every homeless person in your area and sit a while with him. Talk with him. It’s more that we should still approach any person as a person, as human. Okay, so he’s homeless. He’s a little different from me. Oh well. He’s still someone who purposefully leaves that extra part of a bench open for someone else to sit.

I mean, how pathetic is it that a homeless man is more open to relationship than me, a Christian, a person who’s supposed to be showing the world this great and magnificent life that God provides? I can’t get over this fact. I can’t get over the idea that I’m meant to show the light of the world to people, that I’m meant to be that light for them. I’m meant to be their neighbor. I’m meant to love them like I love myself. And what do I do, I have the gall and selfishness to pass by someone who’s probably looking for nothing more than a simple “hello.”

We all want to be acknowledged. We don’t want to be passed by. We don’t want to be left out. That feeling of being ditched is horrible. Yet I have the choice to make someone else feel that way. I have a choice to either sit next to Old Man John or just go on my way. And I have the choice to either live for God or not.

So what am I telling people I choose when I pass by someone in need? Whether their need is for something huge that I could never possibly provide or whether it’s for a simple “hi” or searching around in my pockets for whatever change I have to give.

We have a choice today to give everything over to God. To live for God. To bring glory and honor to the One who’s somehow created the clouds suspended in the skies, who’s somehow created us in his likeness. We have a choice today to accept those who are different, and to be ourselves, different. We have a choice to say, “You know, I only have eight dollars, I can still give that to someone who needs it more than me.” Or to say, “This eight dollars will get me a coffee and a scone from Starbucks.”

It’s not a choice that’s meant to guilt us, but it’s one that’s meant to show us the reality of the world we live in and the God we pursue.

UA Flight 922 - Part IX

2008-08-28T19:21:00.002-04:00

She called me. The woman I love. She called me while I was driving to a place I haven’t known for four years. A room I haven’t stepped foot in on a Wednesday night since college began. She called me and made sure I was happy. She wanted to say goodnight.

Just seconds before my phone rang I was struggling with the thought of calling her. “Do I call her? Do I not? I should call her. I should tell her I love her. But I don’t want to make her sad. I want her to fall to sweet dreams.” I never called her. I put the windows down. Turned the music up. And raced around every corner Tremont held. I prayed for God to keep her. I prayed that he’d tell her how much I truly love her.

I prayed and seconds later she called; only a few turns, a straight away, and not even 100 feet progressed and my prayer got answered. It’s crazy how God orders things. I say this because that statement is becoming more of a reality to me.

Like back in 2006 I decided to move to England for a year. I went to study abroad or as my old boss used to say, “Are you sure you’re just going to study one broad, or many broads?” We used to joke about that a lot. So corny.

And I actually went to London. I up and moved over 3,000 miles to go to school. I found it quite fitting since I was an English major. Figured, “Why not just study English in England?” That was the only logic behind it all.

I turned 21 the summer before my trip. It was a summer to remember. I played ball once again for an amateur league in Boston. Swung the bat for the Tigers. Wore number five. Then I worked between 40 and 60 hours on most weeks. The best thing about work that summer was how I used to rush to Whitehorse every morning. I’d wake up extra early just so I could find a parking spot easily, head down to the beach, and finish my sleep there. It was the best. Then I’d go straight into work all gunked up with sunscreen and still shaking the sand out of my boxers. Nothing could beat that summer.

It’s like I had finally topped off and reached the peak of my life. I was a complete beach bum managing to bring home a pay check and play a sport that only kids should be allowed to play. I mean, I dressed up in a Tiger’s uniform and played for stands filled with parents. There was no difference between me and a five year old. Just instead of bringing all the pales and buckets to the beach, I brought a radio with Jack Johnson albums and a book.

September rolled around quick that year because I was so busy. Before I knew it I was on a plane by myself heading to some far off unknown territory. I had only read about England in history texts books or in stories like Le Morte D’Arthur and the Canterbury Tales. I knew the Beatles and Shakespeare and Manchester United. But I didn’t know what to expect; I traveled without any expectations. And, I have to say, that’s the best way to travel.

Within the first week I was really partying. I met all sorts of new people. People from all over the states, people with funny accents, people from Turkey and Holland and Germany and France; I met the world while clubbing. It wasn’t the clubbing that proved to be the problem; it was the after party. One night, luckily, I did go to an after party.

It wasn’t anything huge. There weren’t any strippers there. No poker games. No strobe lights and fog machines. Not even a couch or a TV could be found in the room. It was just a bunch of chairs with people chilling and talking. We relaxed. Well, I drank.

I put back Jim Beam like he was my best friend. And this was after I already had plenty of beers in my system. Then this kid walked over to me from across the room. I had met him earlier that night through this girl Susan. He came up and re-introduced himself like he thought that I wouldn’t remember him. I mean, it’s not like I was some sort of fool and social whore, but he probably realized I had plenty to drink and was one of many I met in the club. His name was David.

“You can hold your liqueur pretty well there my friend,” he said to me. He spoke just like John Lennon or Paul McCartney. If only he found three others and started singing Back in the USSR. Of course, I probably would have copped it off as my drink being laced with some crazy English drug. “Don’t think I’ve ever really seen someone just keep throwing back shots of whisky straight from the bottle like that.” I think I offered him the bottle out of kindness, but he returned the favor by not accepting. Probably noticed I was slobbering all over it.

“Yeah. It’s my friend’s. She’s over there, across the room. She told me to hold onto it for her.” I was just awkward then. I really didn’t know anyone in the room. So I was sitting, well, trying to stand, but that proved near fatal for me a couple of times. I chilled in the corner near the door that way I could make my quick get away and not be around people anymore.

But then we got to talking. I don’t know what we talked about, but we somehow got on the topic of church and that’s all I remember. I told him I went to church back home. That I was hoping to find a church here, but hadn’t been able to. It’s not like I was searching for one that hard; I just flew in the week before. So you know, I was still exploring. That was probably more of an excuse at the time, but I really did want to find a church. Seriously. It was the first thing on my to-do list.

He told me that he went to church as well. That there was a church right up the street. And then he actually invited me along to one of the services. Of course I accepted. I was ecstatic. Well, I was drunk as well, so anything sounds fun at that point. “God, woo hoo, yeah.” I was thinking something like that of course. It went together well, drunk kid and God that is.

In all seriousness, it did though. It’s insane how God turns things around. How, even though I was being foolish and drinking way too much, God still kept me. God still remained faithful even with my unfaithfulness. He still remained constant in my life. And he never let me go.

You see, I’m not proud of that moment or any similar moment, but God was there. He still used the bad for his good. And it’s changed my life ever since.

I won’t advocate for drunkenness. But I will advocate that God is in control of life. Even though I’ve gone against God, even though I’ve made mistakes, God’s still been like, “No, you’re not meant to do that, but I forgive you. Now try walking this way. Try to get up again. There’s no reason to feel guilty. You’re just not meant to do that. You’re meant to live a life that’s so much grander and better than you could ever possibly conceive. Follow me. I’m here for you. I’ll be here with you the entire time. No worries.” And so I’ve walked on and I’ve learned from those mistakes.

Sometimes I do revisit those same mistakes I already made. Then I notice God saying the same thing: “I love you and I will always love you. Now come with me again.”

And I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness. And you shall know the Lord. (Hosea 2:19&20)

How life can take a 180 in the blink of an eye baffles me. How one instant I can be worrying about a relationship and the next saying goodnight to the woman I love and sending her off with all I can give from miles away; it will never make sense. How God knows my heart through and through is wild.

Being held in detention, back that night in London, was a trip. I still stood in Michael Kane’s office for two – awkwardly standing and trying to rub the ink off my fingers. It didn’t come off. I washed. I scrubbed. I scratched my fingers with the paper towel roll, but it never came off. It was like I was branded. They took my identity. Copied it at a copier machine. And thought nothing of it really; it was only procedure.

I didn’t sit down until another man came in. He was more of a portly fellow. Short. Grey hair, not neat at all. Came in with a big smile on his face. It was just another day at the workplace for him.

He told me to please take a seat. So I did. I did whatever they said. I can’t imagine what would have happened to me if I disobeyed them. I mean, was I going to be thrown in cuffs if I didn’t listen to them? Were they going to just keep me there? Would I never see my home again? The paranoia was obviously sinking in more and more.

But let me say that through and through there was this peace about the night. There was this peace that carried me away from my thoughts where I wrestled with the ridiculous of not getting home. Because you see, God was with me. God was with me the entire time. He never forsook me.

And you shall know the Lord. (Hosea 2:20)

My mind wandered around that room. Blank stares. I kept nothing to the imagination. I took in every crack in the wall and how it flowed jagged then smooth and back again like a river running through a map. My eyes based jumped the thick depth between each tile; they were meant to be complete squares, but some were broken off. Maybe someone before me flipped out, started going all crazy and making a scene. Tried punching Michael Kane or the other portly fellow. They probably cleaned the blood strains on the floor before I got there. Came up with some excuse like it was spilt wine. And went on with the job of carefully stealing a person’s identity, copying it and supposedly keeping it only for immigration purposes.

I’m not sure if you’ve ever been put in a difficult situation and I’m not sure of your life or any of who you are. But God knows you. He’s known you since the beginning. He’s known you through and through. It’s an intimacy only he has a way of constantly coming back to. Though, “coming back to” really isn’t the right phrase because I’m not sure the Lord ever really leaves that intimacy. It’s not like he walks out on you. Turns his back to you. It’s not like there’s some revolving door in your life with the God of the universe acting like some squirrel never really knowing, “Should I cross? No. I wait. Wait, maybe I should cross. But there’s a car coming. Cool. Cross cross cross. No wait, back the other way. Car’s closer. Umm.”

If I could read a squirrel’s mind that’s totally what they’re thinking when I’m driving 40 mph toward them. And it’s hard to believe the God who’s conceived of making a setting sun glint in my eyes and making me squint at its power has the possibility of thinking like a squirrel in the middle of the road.

No. This God who’s made a cherry tree reflect the light of the heavens is a God who in not even one second can make life turn on its heal. This God who’s created a red spectrum in a small tree leaf is a God who’s concerned with the welfare of you. Then you get to catch the sun as it shines and lowers into an ever-inching-forward night. And hopefully getting caught in that moment makes you smile. Hopefully the realization that the Creator of the heavens and earth is actually intimate with you makes you smile too.

So I drove down Tremont to help out at youth group when Sorrel called. I caught the sunset just above the tree line. And God caught me like he never left me at all. Like he is with me forever in mercy, in faithfulness, and in steadfast love.

UA Flight 922 - Part VIII

2008-08-27T13:35:00.003-04:00

Have you ever wondered why God was allowing something to happen to you? I bet you have. I bet you’ve been put in some situation, say, where you can’t see the one you love. Where all you want is to see that person, to hold that person, to kiss her, to talk with her, to walk together; it doesn’t even matter where the road leads or what time it is. You’d simply do anything for that person. You’d give anything to have July back, that one month where you were actually able to spend with one another.

And yet, God let your life slip into this place where you’re unable to be with each other. It’s a place where talking on the phone actually hurts because you don’t like the thought of talking over wires. You hate the fact that you can only hear her voice. No eyes to get lost in. No one to embrace. So the conversation ends depressingly. It goes from not even taking a breath because you have so much to say, to near complete silence. Sighs substitute for words. The words “I love you” are hard to come by. Yet you know it’s true. You know all you want to do is make the other person believe in those words. To believe you.

It’s a place where you have to force yourself to be happy. The days are so long without her. You find it hard to be around friends. All they do is try to cheer you up. Their efforts are hollow.

It’s a place where she shouts at you for not being there with her. She’s actually angry at you. She’s frustrated with how life’s worked out. She doesn’t understand why it’s taken such an awful course. And all you can do is be silent. You have no words to say. Trying to comfort her seems worthless. She rejects those words like they’re cop outs. But you keep repeating them. You keep trying to make her believe them.

“It’s going to be all right.”

“I’ll be with you soon.”

“Don’t give up on this.”

“I love you.” Each comforting phrase resonates with the underlying theme of, “I love you.” Each sentence you string together attempts at saying, “God’s in control. He’s watching over us, keeping us.” It all hints at a steadfast love enduring forever (Ps. 136).

God’s allowed this course in life to occur where when you hang up the phone, you lie on the couch because there’s nothing else to do. You’re almost sick at the idea that you can’t see the woman you love. And the day drags on slower than it did before. The day becomes plain. Mundane. Even though the summer flowers still hold their bright pinks and purples. Even though the day’s illuminated by God’s glory. Even though the humming bird hovers magnificently about the flowers searching for food, for some heavenly provision. And even though there are the millions of reasons for life to be perfect on this late August day, you still acknowledge none of it because the one you love is not by your side.

It’s like life is worthless at that point. You don’t know why you’ve been teased with a month together and five months apart. And then you start thinking those scary thoughts you don’t want to think. You start questioning your love for one another. At least, that’s what she tells you. She tells you she’s scared of those thoughts. That she doesn’t want to be thinking those thoughts. Telling you that you should be here right now. That others are angry because you’re not here.

“I’m doing all that I can babe.”

“It’s a waiting game at this point; we’ve got to wait on the government.”

“I don’t like this either, but...”

Your words trail off into the thin air. They drown in the oceans between you. The Atlantic is too far to swim, but you’d swim it if you had to. You’d sprout wings if there was a magic bean you could eat so for one day you could fly. Then you’d be with her. You’d fight back every prevailing wind if it meant you’d get there sooner. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do to be with her.

You wonder if she actually understands the amount of love you have for her.

Then you wonder why God allows this to happen to you. But maybe we’re not meant to understand. Maybe we’re meant to get on with life, to weather the storm as it were. Maybe we’re not meant to get caught up in the details, but instead focus our attention on the living God. For he is Lord over this situation.

For to this end we toil and strive, because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior of all people, especially of those who believe. (Timothy 4:10)

You see, we’re meant to hope. We’re meant to say something like, “Cool God, I’m with you; I believe in you. For you give me hope that tomorrow I will be with the one I love. You give me hope that no matter what comes against me I will prevail. You give me hope because of your steadfast love enduring forever. You simply gave me hope the moment I let you into my life.”

Have you forgotten about that hope? Have you lost what remembrance you have of this new life, this life which is meant to be focused on eternity?

Take up hope today. Regain what you might have lost. Look around you and know that your Lord is truly alive. That every breath you take is a reminder of the living God within you, about you, and for you. Change your perception of life today so you come to know and understand that you live intimately with your Maker. So that part of the framework of your relationship with Christ is one of hope, a hope that lasts forever.

Now ask yourself if you honestly – just you in the raw with no one else influencing your answer – have set your hope on the living God “who is the Savior of all people.”

There will always be hope. You just need to search for it as much as you want it.

UA Flight 922 - Part VII

2008-08-26T17:42:00.003-04:00

“You can wash you hands there, at the sink. There’s some soap and when you’re finished make sure you dry your hands. Here’s some roll on the desk.”

I was slow to move. He brought me into this small room. It was crammed with printers and scanners. It looked a mess. Papers cluttered all surfaces. Dirty tile floors. A drop ceiling that had one too many holes in it. Two ancient looking digital cameras hooked up to some rod sticking out from the desks. I wonder where the other man was. The room wasn’t just Kane’s office. Someone else had to be coming along.

“Okay, let me see your hands. Are they dry?” He tore off more paper towel from the roll and really scrubbed my hands. It was like those Indian Sunburns you give friends when you’re younger. I never knew the point of them. Some sort of childish torture. That and noogies. Or headlocks. Or swirlies. Or monkey bites. Or a charlie horse. Or pantsing, but that’s more psychological humiliation for all the world to see. And I guess you’re allowed to do that to people when you’re younger because you don’t know better. Plus, if ever your friend got you really bad, you’d just let out that high-pitched yell-scream-thing that kids orchestrate from their vocal chords. Maybe you even jump up and get angry saying something like, “I’m never speaking with you again Mike Flynn.” But really, you just make amends five minutes later and you’re back to the same non-sense as before.

The immigration officer began wheeling paint over a small rectangular metal surface with a paint roller. He moved the ink back and forth like a painter on his canvas. He was sure to miss no spots, to apply just the right amount.

“Okay.” He always started every sentence off with “okay.” “I’m going to take your finger prints now. Try to be as relaxed as you can. And let me do all the work.” I wasn’t relaxed. I couldn’t relax. I tried shaking my hands, loosening them up a bit. I know it was his job and all to tell me to relax, but really, was it necessary? The mere request of relaxation at this point was fruitless.

He is a shield to those who walk in

integrity,

guarding the paths of justice

and watching over the way of his

saints. (Proverbs 2:7&8)

I never relaxed during the whole stay. I should have. I should have known that it was going to work out for the best. I should have realized that God was in control. I never really gave complete control to God. I kept trying to. I kept saying, “Lord, take this from me. I give you everything. I give you my life. I give you this trip. I give you the whole of who I am. Take control, Lord.”

Those prayers are tough prayers though. Because they can’t only be words. There has to be more to the prayers than the vocal tones of each word. A person might pray similar prayers till he’s blue in the face, but it won’t make a bit of difference.

You have to mean those words. You have to believe what you’re saying. You’ve got to realize the power that language can hold. And you’ve got to understand that the Lord already knows your affliction. He’s already heard you long before you spoke a single prayer asking for help. And you’ve got to realize that indeed he does have things under control.

And watching over the way of his

saints. (Proverbs 2:8)

It’s a concept that hard to grasp. I mean, how can the God of the universe actually help me, a man, a mere human being, someone who is here for maybe 70 or 80 years tops? Come on now, are you seriously believing this stuff?

But it’s true.

Don’t ask me how. Don’t ask me why. I really can’t comprehend it, but I believe it with all of my heart. When it comes down to it, my questions about life really don’t matter. Because things will always be this way. This crazy massive God that’s formed everything I see, perceive, witness, interpret, question, stumble over, step on, breathe in, get into, become angry with, cry with, get happy for, ecstatic over, frightened at, scared of, hurt myself on, run through, drive by, wave at, wonder about actually takes every second of my living, breathing, feeling, touching, experiencing life as far as I know it to continually be with me (emphasis added).

He is a shield to those who walk in

integrity. (Proverbs 2:7)

I managed to relax enough for the officer to take me fingerprints. He took my hand and went finger by finger pressing down each equally to the ink. Then he’d take the finger and roll it over a little square on a piece of paper. He explained that he was going for the surface of the finger. Then he was going for the profile of each.

I still stood nervous though. Silent. These people really weren’t too good at making me feel welcome. It’s like they were all giving me the cold shoulder. Their looks just told me that I did something wrong.

He is a shield to those who walk in

integrity. (The verse hasn’t changed.)

“Okay. Now don’t worry. Your fingerprints won’t be used for any other purpose than for the immigration office. The police won’t have them. We just want to make sure you haven’t forged any documents.” I’m glad they were so confident in my honesty. But they were really only doing their jobs so I had no reason to get upset. It’s not like I was being accused of trying to sneak through their border to sell drugs or anything. As far as they were concerned, I was. I was just another incident to them. Someone who at two in the morning was getting his fingerprints done by a guy with the same name as a Hollywood actor.

I never sat down. I didn’t want to be impolite while he was filling out more paper work at his desk. I didn’t want to do anything out of order. The paranoia started to sink in even more at that point.

He is a shield to those who walk in

integrity,

guarding the paths of justice

and watching over the way of his

saints. (Still the same as before.)

The God of all that’s ever been and ever will be was fending for me. The one reason I had to relax and I never realized it as I stood there awkwardly off set in some chaotic office. I was being watched over, guarded, and shielded.

Not to downplay it or any thing, but life’s taken care of.

Relax.

UA Flight 922 - Part VI

2008-08-25T14:31:00.005-04:00

I didn't realize it at the time, but God had prepared me for this moment. I kept praying for grace to make it through the night, but that grace was already prominent in my life. That grace was given me by the way my parents raised me. That grace came during those 40-minute drives to school when I had nothing else to do, but be with God. That grace was a culmination of 23 years of growth for this one moment when I was being detained.

And that's not a conclusion that you can come to while you wait out the storm. You will experience the storm. You will feel the heavenly deluge sweep you away drip by drip. It doesn't matter if the deluge comes in the form of simply failing some school exam or if your best friend gives up on you and walks away from a relationship you've known and loved for years. Strife and sorrow can come in any form. And it will affect you.

So your mind will be set on the day and the hour of your plight. But you will make it through because the Lord's given you the means to get through. He's prepared you. His grace already saved you. It's a grace beginning at your conception, beginning at the mere loving thought of the possibility and potential for you being formed in the womb. And grace even began before that. Don't try to comprehend it. Go along with it. And praise God for the simple fact of praising him.

I've been through plenty in 23 years, but nothing like my immigration problems. I've known the hurt of losing a grandparent. I've known the tears that don't stop when you walk up to the open casket and see a woman who loved you and believed in you and spoiled you with as much Gold Fish and M&M's as a child can handle. I've known the heartache of never being good enough to make it with the college baseball team. I've known the fights and arguments with a father who loves me so much that I take it for granted; the arguments that always ended in me blaming the entire situation on his not being a Christian. I've known the fear of disappointment when I come home with yet another speeding ticket. But I've also known God.

The one defining factor throughout the night was God.

It was late into the morning when the immigration officer finished her questioning. She offered me a drink from the vending machine before she went on her way. Told me I could have a sandwich if I was hungry. I wasn't. I was near sick to my stomach at the idea of not knowing what was going to happen next.

I went for the vending machine. Just a water. Nothing else appealed to me. All the fancy bells and whistles operated at my request. I thought, only in England can you get a cup of tea from a vending machine. That would never fly in the US. Maybe coffee, but I think most people would choose to go to the nearest Dunkies of Starbucks. Oh, if only life was as easy as pushing a button on a vending machine and out pops whatever you want. That would be grand.

Only when you're older and grown up do you think like this. It's blasphemous to think such a thought when you're a kid. Then all adventure is thrown out the window. There would be no more play time. No more cops and robbers, cowboys and indians, or any sort of space adventure. There would be no adventure at all. Summers off from school would transform into some sort of uniform-still-wearing-piece-of-work for eight weeks.

I don't know when I lost my sense for adventure. And this trip was trying to reclaim it for me. Not many people can say the government's detained them before. Not many can say they've sat down in a very Hollywood-esk interrogation room and been grilled for hours.

God was working in me that night more than I could fathom. And he was doing it in the only spirit-quenching forum possible - adventure.

Adventure leaves you with only the next step. It drags you and pulls you. It's the not-knowing-what's-going-to-happen feeling, which is the quintessential adventure mentality. Sometimes you won't have a place to rest your head. Sometimes you will just collapse because your muscles ache so much. But then you will get up. You will always get up. It might not be by your own strength, but it will happen. Because you are called to take one more step - one more step into nothingness, into wild, into eternity.

I live by a verse in Psalms, one that I found three years ago. It tells me that God's way is through the sea, his path through the great waters, though no footprints were seen. That is the adventure I live for. I experienced it within the course of 36 hours. And I may only be sitting at home now, writing this story, but my soul longs to take another step.

That night in detention I never realized I was living adventurously. I never stopped to think that I needed to take one more step. I collapsed.

I barely got any sips of water before another immigration officer came to get me. He was a bigger fellow, the type that suits a uniform. He introduced himself as Michael Kane. That was an easy name to remember. I definitely wasn't starring in a new Austin Powers movie, unless it was some sort of premier Reality TV show where random people get stopped at Customs and made to go through a night of paranoia.

And I was off again. To where, I didn't know. You never know where the next step will take you. But your duty is to take that next step.

UA Flight 922 - Part V

2008-08-24T14:51:00.008-04:00

At some point I snapped out of my stare and attempted paying attention to her questions. She had me in an interrogation room. There was one metal table we sat at in the middle of the room. Four metal chairs. Everything was chained to the ground. I guess the government was weary of a detainee grabbing a chair and getting away with it.

I looked around and was walled in. She sat closest to the open door. I couldn't believe I was being interrogated. All I wanted to do was chill with friends and worship at church. I looked forward to spending my Saturdays at any of the various art galleries. I wanted to sit at the Tate staring at paintings for hours on end then writing my responses. Poetry.

Instead, I sat in a room with windows that had wire in between the glass panes. There was nothing poetic about the experience. Not like I'd write my entire Cantos within an eight-and-some-odd-hour span in detention. I wasn't some traitorous ex-pat speaking out about the Iraq War after abandoning his homeland. But if anyone else saw me, they'd probably think that.

"Are you okay?" She asked, meaning something more like "Are you healthy enough to proceed?" I simply answered yes. But I wasn't "okay." My being "okay" would view something like cramming into a tiny European car with four grown adults, five life-sized bags, screaming all the way home because - as I hear it - Tom's driving is more like a Six Flags roller coaster.

So no, I wasn't okay. I wasn't okay in the least. I was detained. My private life became public. I was beginning to become paranoid. I didn't know what time it was. I didn't know where anyone was. And this lady had the procedural gaul to ask me if I was okay.

You see - the tough part about any seemingly-life-threatening situation is that you can't think about the situation. There's no room to dwell on your circumstances. If you do, that's when problems start.

When I sat with mom earlier I prayed for grace. My continual prayer was for more grace. Then more grace. Then even more grace to make it through the night.

I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus. (1 Cor. 1:4)

I wasn't just given grace for that one single night. God wasn't saying, "You there, kid, here, I'll help you to walk only one more step, but that's all you get." He wasn't leaving me with a time-limit for his grace. And he didn't even limit this grace in any sort of way. It was near scandalous the amount given me. An obscene amount. When you look up at the stars, that's the vastness to his grace. Completely unbelievable. When you drive a never ending road, that's the freedom of grace. That's the I'm looking around and all I see in front of me is a world wide, wide open. You question when it will end; it won't. You wonder its endless amount; it's incapable of comprehension. You exhaust all your resources; grace remains.

My voice shook, nervous. She asked me to be specific because she had to write verbatim. She went through the motions at first. Asked me the same questions I already told the other guy. I wasn't quick with responses. I laughed to stall. To think. My future hinged on those answers.

I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus, that in every way you were enriched in him in all speech and all knowledge. (1 Cor. 1:4&5)

When she asked me why I was in England I told her, "I'm here to visit with friends, to re-connect with the church I worshipped at while attending Middlesex University and to pursue my newly acquired writing career after graduating from the University of Massachusetts at Dartmouth."

When she asked me what my itinerary was I blanked. I didn't have a strict schedule. No trips planned. No nothing. It didn't occur to me that I should have told her something like, "Oh, I'll be going to church on Sundays." Or, "I'll be going to the grocery store at least once a week." Or, "Well, the queen invited me over for some afternoon tea on the 15th of September 2008 at 2:18 sharp so I mustn't miss such a grand occasion."

She kept questioning. Kept poking and prodding and trying to figure out if I was incognito or if I was real. She never hinted at whether I answered sufficiently or poorly. She was immovable - a statue. Why didn't the British just hook me up to a polygraph with some mysterious agent all decked out in black, no wrinkles, fedora to cover the top of his face, smoke ominously making it's way out of a shadow from where he stood then to a vent in the ceiling; the meanwhile I'd be sitting there under a half dangling light swaying back and forth, sweat beading from my forehead, wetting my tongue as I pulled out some syntacticly mixed up sentence for an answer? It would have been easier.

Nothing was easy that night. Not even answering small questions as to my comings and goings. Not even waiting between the silence of my answer and her next question.

It was a waiting game we played; one that I didn't like. But one that continued for the next several hours.

I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus, that in every way you were enriched in him in all speech and all knowledge - even as the testimony about Christ was confirmed among you - so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift, as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will sustain you to the end. (1 Cor. 1:4-8)

UA Flight 922 - Part IV

2008-08-23T13:58:00.006-04:00

She introduced herself, but I never caught her name. And she explained that she had some questions to ask me. So I did as I had to, and I followed her.

The last text I received told me to not worry. Told me that I need to accept any decision with grace. And told me not to show too much emotion. Essentially, I was to be a man about it. I was to be that typical boy out of the 50s who never cries, who wears his letterman jacket around, who gave his girl a pin, and who only knows how to shake hands - no embracing allowed. I was asked to be more mechanical than human because even if tragedy strikes, oh well; I should be able to tough it out.

But honestly, I'm not sure if Audrey actually knew what she texted me. Of course I was going to accept any decision with grace, but I was going to need a lot more grace to merely accept the answer. And I was going to need some sort of supernatural strength to make it through. Some sort of realization that this wasn't the end of the world. I needed something - something to get me through.

Making it was possible. And I knew for a fact that things weren't the best, but they weren't the worst either. Many before me, many now, and many later will be caught in situations far worse than my own. And the one classic story that reminded me of this is found in the first chapter of Job:

Now there was a day when his sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in their oldest brother's house, and there came a messenger to Job and said, "The oxen were plowing and the donkeys were feeding beside them, and the Sabeans fell upon them and took them and struck down the servants with the edge of the sword, and I alone have escaped to tell you." While he was yet speaking, there came another and said, "The fire of God fell from heaven and burned up the sheep and the servants and consumed them, and I alone have escaped to tell you." While he was yet speaking, there came another and said, "The Chaldeans formed three groups and made a raid on the camels and took them and struck down the servants with the edge of the sword, and I alone have escaped to tell you." While he was yet speaking, there came another and said, "Your sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in their oldest brother's house, and behold, a great wind came across the wilderness and struck the four corners of the house, and it fell upon the young people, and they are dead, and I alone have escaped to tell you."

Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshipped. (Job 1:13-20)

I walked with what dignity I had left. I carried my head as high as I could. I kept silent, moving with the confidence that everything was going to be cool; it was going to work out. I'd be seeing mom soon. Sorrel was flying in the next morning. So I planned on returning to the airport at 7 AM to surprise her. To hold her. To laugh with her. To carry all of her bags. To smile. And to walk hand-in-hand trusting God with our futures - together.

Everything was going to be all right.

We came to one of those doors you see in spy movies. The kind where one person needs both a pin number and a card to get in. You know, those high security doors. She swiped her card and plugged in the code. Then the door clicked.

I never stopped to wonder where I was going. That didn't seem important to me at the time. I just went where the UK Border Agents told me to go. It never occurred to me that I might be brought down to some secret layer. An almost Frankenstein layer with chains on cold stone walls, each chain holding remnants of past prisoners. Little skeletons left as reminders that when traveling you should always have your paper work in order.

You know the doors labeled "Employee Entrance Only" that I'm talking about. The type in those old black and white Hitchock films or any of the government's hidden rooms from Ian Flemmings' books. Maybe I'd meet the revered "M" or get to talk with a Sean Connery-esk double-O-agent.

But when the door opened, it didn't reveal anything special. Nothing cool. No armed guards. No odd looking scientists scurrying around. No telegraphs receiving Top-Secret information. It was just a hall ending very abruptly. Dimly lit and barely wide enough for my year's worth of luggage.

The immigration officer told me to leave my bags at the end of the hall and come with her. She led me into another room, but she wasn't even able to enter it without verification. The security guard buzzed us in.

The room looked like an empty doctor's office. There were rows of chairs neatly ordered. Plastic chairs. The cheap kind of chairs you get for cookouts, except they didn't fold up. The one thing this doctor's office didn't have was a set of building blocks. I always loved playing with those wooden blocks when I was younger. I'd make castles and stack towers higher than the clouds. I'd demolish the architecture and begin again, attempting more daring feats.

I could tell it was going to be a lonely night. They didn't even offer me the pleasure of getting back to my childhood. They left the room barren. Only a small bookcase of random selections collected dust in the corner. A vending machine that seemed overused and somehow made full cups of tea with milk and sugar along with Nestle's rushed version of a cappuccino. And a pay phone. Maybe later I'd get the infamous one call.

For now, she brought me into the interrogation room. But she kept the door open as if to say, "Go ahead, be my guest. Try to escape. You know you want to. You know you want me to let you into my country without any hassle." Or maybe she just trusted me enough to sit still and not be a bother.

I stared through that door like I knew things were going to be okay. Like that was some sort of sign telling me I'd make it through and be able to live in London. Like that one open door was the open door to my new life.

But it was just one more door in the whole line of doors I'd need to walk through in order to reach my destination. I needed a miracle to get out and get on with things.

That miracle never came the way I wanted it though. I sat there still. I think everything was motionless at that point. The whole world stopped.

And I wasn't sure how to worship God. I mean, how can a person actually worship, actually connect with an intimacy so far beyond description during such a trying time? And I'm not sure what I did, or if I even worshipped God in the slightest at all. But I know that I began answering her questions honestly.

Maybe that was my little bit of worship to God - to stand firm in how I've been raised; to keep my integrity by not letting a lie pass my tongue even if the answer's not sufficient for the lady interrogating me.

I had to worship God even if it meant not getting into the country.

UA Flight 922 - Part III

2008-08-22T14:41:00.007-04:00

The Lord is a stronghold for the

oppressed,

a stronghold in times of trouble.

And those who know your name put

their trust in you,

for you, O Lord, have not forsaken

those who seek you. (Ps. 9:9&10)

I was escorted back to Customs after my bags were magically put back together. This time they were hardly sorted in any logical fashion. Instead, my luggage was chaos.

And the two ladies went about like this was normal for them. It was merely procedure. They talked of their having to get paid more. I think that was all I really heard. The rest was a blur to me. I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't concentrate on anything. The amount of thoughts beaming through my head meshed together into one lump.

I tried thinking of what was going to happen to me; that didn't work.

I tried thinking how everything would play out. Would I be okay, you know? Would I make it through and Tom and mom and Josh and Kai would all still be waiting on the other side?

I tried thinking of, "Okay, if someone asks me why I'm here I'll just say it's for tourism."

"Wait, I can't just say it's for tourism." - Thought 1

"Okay. I'm here to go to church." - Thought 2

"Yeah right. Who's going to actually believe that I just traveled over 3,000 miles just to attend a church service?" - Thought 1

"Fine. I'll make it clear to them that I'm not here to do any sort of charitable work since I was refused a Voluntary Worker visa." -Thought 2

"Cool." - Thought 1

"Sorted." - Thought 2

I was holding a very discombobulated argument inside my noggin. I couldn't believe that I was actually arguing with myself. It's like I had some out of body experience where I overheard my thoughts trying to sort them selves out. This was messed up. Life should never cause you to hold arguments within your head. It's not like I was going crazy. I was just utterly confused about the situation I found myself in.

And those who know your name put

their trust in you,

for you, O Lord, have not forsaken

those who seek you. (Ps. 9:10)

My thoughts and prayers intertwined. Because when some crazy circumstance overcomes you, you will not lose sight of God. You will not cut off that connection you have with him. If anything, you will pull harder and harder on the line like you're ringing bell towers to get in touch with your Rock, your Salvation, you're Everything-that-you-could-possibly-ever-want-or-need-during-this-troubled-time.

Josh was right; I was screwed. And that realization made me run to God quicker than Usaine Bolt during the Olympics this year. It makes you run faster than a bullet train because you have no other possibility of being rescued. Superman is just a figment in your rearview mirror at this point. You have one destination and that's to find yourself in the Lord's arms. Nothing else will do.

They sat me back down on those chairs my mom and I were at before. This time I was alone. I only had my discordant mind to keep me company. I tried not to worry. I tried not to think about all the bad that might come; their not letting me through; their not letting me say a proper goodbye to Sorrel when she flies in the next morning; their not letting me see anyone even if they're all on the other side of the arrivals door waiting for me until two in the morning. I tried not thinking about how I was American and this shouldn't be happening to me. I tried not thinking about home and going back to a job I've known for four years. I tried not thinking about how I'd have to explain this to everyone. How could they possibly understand anyways?

The Lord is a stronghold for the

oppressed,

a stronghold in times of trouble. (Ps. 9:9)

And I waited for whatever lay ahead. I texted everyone. Told them I was being held at Customs. Asked for prayer. The responses came pouring in. Even though my friends weren't with me in person, sitting in that row of chairs with me, they were still there in spirit.

So that sounds cheesy and cliche, but it was true. Their simple responses helped get me through that night. The texts gave me confidence. It's like my friends were standing with me. Like they actually did have my back on this one.

It's probably the first time they actually saw Greg take a chance in life. That same Greg who likes everything orderly, who never really stepped out of line, who rarely challenged conformity and the normalcy of life.

I took a chance. I flew to another country without an entry clearance visa. I said, "You know God, you've put England on my heart. You've re-ignited something where all I want is to work with the youth of London. You even gave me the loveliest girl I've ever known in life and you let me find her in London. So I'm going for it. I'm going to make that move. I'm going to leave everything that I've known for 23 years. It doesn't matter that I'm going over there with less than $300. It doesn't matter that I might get turned away at the door. I'm going on faith, Lord. And I'm going on trust. So let me learn to trust you."

And it's been a process. This whole trusting in God thing is quite the process. It's one insane journey filled with newly paved roads, potholes, bumps, car-wrecks, the whole nine yards. But God is still seeing me through.

This trusting in him comes day after day. It's the kind of trust where straight away in the morning, before I've even stepped foot out of my bed, I have to say, "Lord, I trust you." It's a trust that says, "No matter what comes my way, I'm sticking with you God." That "no matter what" phrase is the toughest of all because any sort of circumstance cannot change your thinking; you must be resilient with trust.

If you were to lose your job tomorrow, then you must trust in the Lord's provision. Even if you have bills to pay, gas to put in an empty tank when it's near $4 a gallon, or whatever the surrounding circumstances may be; you still have to trust.

Even if you wrap your car around a tree and find yourself waking up in a hospital, you just have to say, "I'm trusting you, God." Go ahead and complain. Go ahead and ask all the questions as to why God let this happen to you. But in the end, just make sure you're trusting him, the One who has overcome the world. He has overcome your troubles, so take heart - trust.

I sat in that chair for some time and realized my circumstances. I learned about trust just that much more. I still don't know the ins and outs of what trusting in the Lord actually is, but I know that it takes my whole heart. So I gave my heart. And I gave my self.

I was completely at a loss for control.

Some lady was walking my way now. Another immigration officer...

The Lord is a stronghold for the

oppressed,

a stronghold in times of trouble.

And those who know your name put

their trust in you,

for you, O Lord, have not forsaken

those who seek you. (Ps. 9:9&10)

UA Flight 922 - Part II

2008-08-21T12:27:00.008-04:00

The room was empty. There was only one immigration officer at his desk. No one was in line any more. It was just mom and I and some foreign looking janitor cleaning up what already was fairly immaculate.

"Lord, you said you had a plan for me. You said you'd provide a way. That you know the way." I couldn't stop praying. I was afraid. Confused. I did the only thing I knew to do in those life-changing-dire-not-looking-so-hot moments; I prayed and kept praying. "God, give me the grace and mercies to accept any decision rendered. Help me through this. See me through this."

I didn't know what was going on in my mom's head. She nervously sat next to me. She couldn't sit still. "Where are they? They're taking so long. Poor Josh has been waiting for so long. Do you think he has the bags?" Her mind was obviously racing on overdrive.

"Mom, it'll be okay." I reverted back into the convincing mom and myself mode. Because when you wait alone for so long in some foreign area in a time when things really aren't going according to plans, all you do is try to convince yourself that everything will be all right.

My covenant with him was one of life and peace, and I gave them to him. It was a covenant of fear, and he feared me. He stood in awe of my name. (Mal 2:5)

Finally two black ladies came over. They seemed nice when I first saw them. nothing too scary I guess. I can't even say why I was really scared that whole time. I mean - I knew God had everything worked out. I knew no harm would come to me. The worst thing that could happen was getting sent home. It's not like I was going to get beat or flogged or get the twice over from bad cop good cop. After all, I was an American semi-in England. Those two countries have good political relations, right? A fairly good history, leave aside the whole Boston Tea Party since throwing away tea probably pisses off the Brits way too much. Oh, and the whole American Revolution and us breaking away from His Majesty. Maybe I was in trouble after all, but there was still no logical reason to worry.

In her gentle British accent one of them told us what was going to happen next. They just wanted my luggage. Easy enough. But I think both mom and I stumbled out of the chairs when we got up. And I didn't even have any shots of Jim Beam or Jose Cuervo; I stumbled with anxiety fumbling what little belongings I kept. I shuffled my feet like they were shackled and cowered along like a dog with its tail between its legs. Hopefully no one noticed; I was trying to hide all emotion at that point.

Luckily we found Josh again. He was waiting down at the baggage claim. Me and him just gave each other those looks like:

"You're screwed" - Josh.

"Yeah, I know, but God will provide a way" - Me.

"True that homes" - Josh with his "G-Hetto" impression.

I don't think I really spoke that entire time. I would just give a quick "yes" answer, shuffle my feet and scramble to try and do as they asked. I kept re-assuring my mom that it would be okay. Told her I'd be seeing her soon. But never got to hug her good bye. And that proved to be the last time I'd see her during my English imprisonment.

Those two black ladies tore apart my luggage. One started in on my backpack. The other went for the gold mine of clothes. They unlatched every latch on the bags. Unclipped every clip. Un-zippered all of the zippers. They just went at the luggage like it was a Thanksgiving Day feast. And all privacy became public.

They fingered through my poverty-stricken wallet pulling out old receipts. And the one thing I probably didn't want them to find was in there. It was a little letter Sorrel gave me when she first arrived to the States. "Blue Eyes," she titled it. It was only for my eyes. Apparently, that one immigration officer didn't think so.

I never thought I would get angry about some little invasion of privacy. But my insides were boiling. Why did they have to read an innocent note from my girlfriend? It's not like they were instructions on how to build a bomb or a quick reference guide to deceiving the UK Border Agency. It was a little note written on flimsy paper that I kept in my wallet. That's all. A love note, if you will. The kind that you pass around during school when the teacher's not looking. The one where it's only for that one special person. The one that maybe only says, "I love you" in it.

But I guess all of my freedom was taken from me that night. I couldn't stop them from searching my bags. I couldn't tell them not to read the letters. They apparently had all of the right in the world to be doing what they were doing since I had lost all of my rights. You see, I was the one that messed up in their eyes. I was the suspicious kid who told a story of my only wanting to help people. "I just wanted to reconnect with my church, see my friends and learn to love my girlfriend much more than what I knew," I said. But they weren't having it.

And sometimes life is like that I guess. Sometimes people won't believe your story; it doesn't matter if it's the truth. Sometimes you'll just be a fake in their eyes, someone who wants to invade their country per se. It's only a distraction though. Because you need to remember:

My covenant with him was one of life and peace, and I gave them to him. It was a covenant of fear, and he feared me. He stood in awe of my name. (Mal 2:5)

God, the Creator of the galaxies, the Creator of you and me has made a covenant with us. When you look up at the stars at night you see creation for its fullest. Don't question how it came to be. Know that it's the works of the Lord. And know that the same Lord who created that beautiful vastness made a covenant with you: for life and peace.

I just watched as my life was torn apart by those two immigration officers. I never stopped praying. Because even though they tore me from all of my materialistic life, they could never tear me from my Lord and Savior.

His covenant remained.

UA Flight 922 - Part I

2008-08-20T20:13:00.004-04:00

"Why am I here?"

"What have I done to you?"

"Why am I here?"

"Am I criminal?"

She re-assured me I would not be taken back to the plane in hand cuffs. She jokingly laughed about it. I laughed in awkwardness. I laughed with relief.

I still didn't know why I was here.

But you, O Lord, are a shield about me,

my glory, and the lifter of my head. (Ps. 3:3)

I recollect the other night and nothing comes to mind - no answer. The whole night I prayed for the Lord to give me the grace and mercies to make it through. He did. I made it through.

The Lord is a shield about me.

UA flight 922 landed nearly 30 minutes early. As the plane got lower and lower to the ground I couldn't stop looking out the window. It was nighttime. There were only lights. But those lights let me know that I was almost there. I was actually moving to London. What for so long was only a dream was quickly becoming a reality.

We touched down. That was the first time I got excited about what was happening. People on the plane filed out. The hall we walked down couldn't have been any longer. But we were here; it was all good. I was in London, well, kind of.

The line for Customs was like one of those never ending roads. The ones where you know exactly when the turn for you destination is coming up, but it just drags on and on and you wonder when it will end. We made it to the front finally. Josh went his separate way to one desk. Mom and I went to one together.

He asked so many questions. They started off as the norm for Customs. "What's the purpose for your travels?" "How long will you be staying here?" "Where will you be staying?" Those sorts of questions, you know. But I knew I was going to be grilled. Then it came. He started questioning me as to why I didn't have a return ticket. Soon he was asking for phone numbers of friends he could call to enquire of. "Okay, you can take a seat now," he said.

"Mom, it will be okay." I kept telling her that again and again. "God knows the way. he's going to provide a way for me. Don't worry." I think I said those words to calm myself down as well. I didn't know what was happening. Why weren't they letting me through?

"If they need you to have a return ticket, we'll buy one now," mom said. "What if they don't let you through, what will I do?"

"Don't think about the what ifs, mom. It'll be fine. It'll all work out. God will provide. Just don't worry. Don't think on the bad. God will come through for us. It's all good." I kept saying things like that, but I was a mess inside. I didn't know what was going to happen to me.

It's like, think of that worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Think of getting mauled by some 9-foot lioness out on the hunt. This ain't no cubby Simba searching for bugs and worms singing "Hakuna matata." This is the real deal. This is you getting your derriere kicked, pants split, not being able to sit down for days because you just got served.

But you, O Lord, are a shield about me,

my glory, and the lifter of my head. (Ps. 3:3)

We sat and waited for so long. We sat and there was still hope. There always will be hope. Oh well, I got served. Oh well, I didn't know what was going to happen. And oh well, I might get denied entry and sent back home on the first flight in the morning.

But the Lord is still a shield about me. And he will always be a shield encompassing the entirety of me. I will forever be covered by God.

Today, right now, don't think on your situation too much. Don't think on the troubles that you've come across. Just don't try to reason it and figure out all the options. Relax. Take a deep breath. And know that the Lord your God is a shield about you. Know that in troubled times he will lift your head. So praise your God with all that's in you because your eyes are lifted back to the heavens.

Behold your God.

Confession XLIX

2008-06-23T19:10:00.002-04:00

Let your steadfast love comfort me

according to your promise to your

servant.

- Psalm 119: 76

The rain fell like bails of hay rolling from the clouds. I called you, but you never picked up. I let the phone ring over and over again. I bet you were fast asleep. I bet you were dreaming sweet dreams. And I pray those dreams tumble down like drowning waters. Floods on Mondays. Wet horizons. Greens and grays and all the day's almost gone. Because sometimes life gets so hard that you just want to get away. And so I pray those dreams take you to that secret place where all is perfect.

Tell me, what is perfect to you?

Confession XLVIII

2008-06-21T21:54:00.004-04:00

Whoever works his land will have plenty
of bread,
but he who follows worthless pursuits
will have plenty of poverty.
- Proverbs 28: 19

I am tired. Let me just throw that out there.

There is nothing more tiresome than not doing what's right. And I know from experience because I have messed up so many times. And on the inside I just want everything to be okay. I want the world to be perfect. And then I want to honor the Lord. I want to bring His name glory. I want to remain faithful. I always want to stick by His side - always.

But I'm like a little boy who walks down the street with his mom. Hand-in-hand doing some errands. Enjoying the wonderful day. And we walk past a toy store. There's a brand new shiny red fire engine in the display. "I want it," the thought rolls over and over in my head. I'm so taken by this wonderful mystery of how some toy maker shrunk down a fire truck. I always hear them roar on by, disturbing classical suburbia on a bright summer's day.

"I want it," like a Wurlitzer skipping.

"I want it." And I stare through the pristine plate glass dirtying it with my breath. I am in awe at the magic and cannot be unstuck. But mom's tugging at my arm. She doesn't realize that in this moment I am immovable, impervious to any beckoning or calling or slapping upside the head as if to say, "You have enough toys already. Now come along and be a good boy."

Those last words dig deep because I know I am rebellious at this point. I'm not listening to a forward progression into the day. I'm too taken by what I can't have to want to move on. Because all I want is that shrunk down shiny red fire engine. Then life would be that much more wonderful.

But life's already wonderful at this stage and that's what I don't realize. I don't realize how good I have it. How I can go into the fridge at any moment and cut myself a whoppingly-large piece of marble cheese cake to ease a rumbling belly. Or how I can go to a job each day with friendly partners and caffeine addicted customers; I don't realize how I can make a person's day by simply serving a cup of Boston Coffee to her.

And I do not realize the entirety of the beauty the girl I'm falling in love with actually holds. How from oceans away she remains on my mind and gets me excited for tomorrow. Because when she arrives in my arms I'll give her the world and bring her the stars and dance with her on lakes and picnic at sunrise so I can hand her the day. Then we can walk together under the watch of summer love. Learning to trust in a love that never fails.

Unfortunately, I fail more often than I'd care to admit. And I am always left wanting once all is said and done. I can only bang on that glass window. Put my finger prints all over it. Stand like a statue firm in my grip claiming that the fire engine reality right in front of me is truly the real world. But all it is, is a shrunk down miniature version of what actually exists. It is only a perverse display of all that God has for me. Something that I can only play with, but not actually live.

You see, all I can do with this fire engine is race it back and forth on the living room rug. Maybe I can ram it into some Lincoln Log house or a tower made from building blocks. But it's not actually the real thing. I can't actually fight fires with it. I can't come to the rescue of someone in need. I can't live the life of a true fireman in a world of fallacy: with toy trucks and toy houses and with a toy's imagination for what this life is truly all about.

But I still stand motionless ignoring all the "Come on's" and "We've got to go's" and the "It's time to leave's." I ignore the truth of the matter: that I am idle and pursuing what is not real. I do nothing about this unreality, this fake world, this falsehood-driven life; and I let it sweep me away for momentary bliss. For an escape. For a "Wish I had this" - and that's called being selfish.

In doing so, I let go of all that I love as if a friend went overboard and there I stood with the Life Saver in hand. I throw it out. Heart racing. Wild breaths. Heightened emotions. And near hysteria. I struggle to pull him in. I fight the waves in a cataclysmic Tug of War. But my strength runs out. At the first signs of depletion I drop the line and walk after what seems easiest to obtain.

I forget reality and live in my own reality.

Because reality takes a fight. It takes all the strength you have. Sucks all the breath right out of you. And can leave you exhausted. But it yields wonder. Adventure. You fly through turbulence. Coming out of the clouds and barely avoiding mountains. But it gives you the sense of living life to the fullest. And it allows you to experience all that an Almighty Being - God - has for you while managing to put one foot in front of the other and walk among constantly failing beings - humans, us.

So reality takes work. At least you won't be left wanting in the end.

Now, if you can, get up and walk on; life's still here for you to experience.

Encounter. Your. God.

Confession XLVII

2008-06-20T13:56:00.002-04:00

Remember the word to your servant,

in which you have made me hope.

This is my comfort in my affliction,

that your promise gives me life.

- Psalm 119: 49&50

There's an explosion in the sky. She said, "Look at the clouds." They keep swelling and building and bubbling and boiling over. She said, "I came here to show you the clouds." Like it was the end of the world and she came as the messenger. Like all the world was about to erupt; the remnants would suspend in the sky. And the clouds we used to think held gods and angels and heavenly beings of all types became the left overs of destroyed worlds.

The clouds moved west with the sun. Most of the traffic on Long Pond Road followed suit. Public announcements for EVACUATION at 11:07. The people driving the opposite way, against the wind, must be going back for their families or their friends or Toto the dog - anything they can get before storms collide.

I sit in a lonely little shop watching it like a movie on the big screen. That's all I've really been able to do lately - just watch life happen. And it hasn't been the best of times nor the worst of times like Dickens wrote. But they've been trying times for sure. Times when I just want to collapse, but letting go and giving up was never built into me. Times when I just want to hit and punch and kick and beat a wall to a pulp, but my dad always taught me never to hit someone unless he swings first. Times when I want to run away from it all, but for some reason I can't even turn to the side; I am in this fight pushing the lines.

I am moving forward. Progressing. Getting through this. I often wonder how I'm getting on. And I know the reason; it's the existence of the God of the Universe actually residing in my life. It's the fact that I have hope for the next move. That life tomorrow isn't just a shot in the dark. That it's not some sort of gamble or chance like feeling around for a flashlight when the power goes out.

But I actually have a hope made for me. I have a hope orchestrated for me. Written detail for detail with no missing notes - a song beautifully composed. It's a musical epic with all the goods of Homer or Gilgamesh. And I am living in an adventure where, no matter what, my Lord is there for me, always and forever.

The explosions have nearly disappeared now. The winds picked up. The cars stopped. And the horizon black.

I don't know the next move, but I push forward regardless of my inability to understand what lies ahead. I trudge through muddy waters. Escape quicksand. Experience the sun breaking through the canopies. And continue to live life. I watch the world pass me by, but choose to play a part of this 21st century drama. I am human living God's creation.

And so I am comforted in my affliction. Given life. And there is a hope made just for me. And I am living that hope, living tomorrow and living now.

Know that there is hope, a hope made just for you and continue; that's all.

Confession XLVI

2008-06-18T20:37:00.002-04:00

I thank you that you have answered me

and have become my salvation.

- Psalm 118: 21

No one ever told me things would happen like this. I didn't sign up for this type of life. I didn't sign up for this heartache. I didn't sign up for this trouble. I did not sign up for lonely drives to clear my head. Distress. Nearly crying. Breaking. Needing to calm down somehow; that's why I run away to be by myself. To try and find God. To try and find some comfort. Some thing to get me through.

So right now I slouch in the corner of a coffee shop trying to get away. All I see is a world rushing through green lights, barely slowing for amber and stopping only when told "Red." I see people sitting alone. Empty cups. Everyone's walking around with sun glasses like they're viewing the world as a facade. Finding their own shade to life. Purposely ignoring the world for what it really is. For the colors it shows. For the shades it brings out. It's like we all hide from what reality is.

I think most of the time we view our surroundings through filters. Maybe we don't accept what hits us. Hard. Knocked down. Face in the mud in the midst of hurricanes. Blow to blow to below the belt shots. So we filter the world. We choose what to believe. We choose what to see. What to hear. Adhering to choices trying to catch a star and chase our dreams while we're miles below the heavens.

And that's how we get through. We try to control reality. When in fact we barely have any control. But we need those filters in order to survive. That's why we ask all those depressing questions of:

Why me?

Why this?

Why the hell does life happen the way it happens?

So let me ask you: Do you ever get an answer?

In all honesty, I take those long drives I mentioned because that's my time to be alone with the Lord. That's where I go to hear some audible voice; I still have yet to hear one. But my being deaf to any sort of clear heavenly angelic language or chorus is not a hinderance to God's speaking to me.

Because God's words sing around me. He tells me it's all going to be okay in the way the fog lifts off College Pond. The way it carelessly drifts off into the dawn. Like a tea kettle boiled over. And I have to slow my car at that point. Drink the moment. And be taken away from all my worries.

I hear God simply when I stare out the window at a coffee shop. It's then that the world fades away. It's just the grey twilight fighting tree lined horizons - one pushing against the other, a genuine Tug O' War where Earth's not sure if it wants night or day. Where cars pass, but they're merely actors exiting Stage Left. Where all the world is still chaotic surrounding me, but none of it's a bother. For some reason I'm at peace with a warring world.

God met me at the Battle of the Bulge.

And I fight on with strength not my own. I get on. I go. I walk. Up mountains. Through valleys. Cross rivers. Rest in deserts. And still chase the stars. My dad taught me the north star will always lead me home. So I look up at night. And wherever I am, I'm at home. For God is in that sky. My Maker. My Creator. And I look up. Then all is well.

Yes, I never did sign up for these rough times, but today I'm reminded that my God's in control. That I've lost all control - apparently. And He truly has become my salvation - a continual process.

Please know that no matter where you're at, it's all good. So go on those long drives. Break down. And cry. Simply let it all out. Because the Lord has become your salvation; that's it.

Confession XLV.I

2008-06-17T13:11:00.008-04:00

The Lord is my strength and my song,

He has become my salvation.

- Psalm 118: 14

Trust is a concept I can't understand. Just today I hopped off the breakers onto Plymouth beach. Bounced on the sand and quickly turned my swagger into a respectable gait. The day's air called for life to be lived in slow motion. All the songs were slow. Depressing in a way.

And have you ever stuck your hand out a car window on a rainy day while you're traveling 80 mph home? It's like you're meant to beat the rain home. Like a race. But it's futile I guess. Child's play.

The best kind of play. The type of play where you invent your own games. Where the floor is lava or hot coals or a giant grey rug swamp filled with Loch Ness Monster- sized crocodiles ready to devour any poor little boy who's foot slips from the book shelf immediately causing a chain reaction of the four foot statured body falling to the ground.

Then each drop is like a thousand bees attacking your hand. But it's cool to the touch. And it calms all your nerves. And it's mesmerizing as the stingers wash your hand. Each drawing its own path gliding this way and that like Causeway Street then Portland Ave, Fairmont and Meridian all woven together. Then they brush themselves off the surface like rain from a wind shield.

Driving in the rain.

Trust. It's those slow motion moments. It's those moments when nothing can be got or nothing can be gained or lost or found - and it's all just trust.

I sat up in the cemetery after talking to my boss. It took ages to climb the steps. Each step like its own Everest. Passing grave for grave. Like I was walking to my death.

I walked to a desolate place to find the Lord. I clung to my Bible. And I clung to the Bible. And I held so tight to the Word of God knowing I could do nothing else.

I sat silent. Stared out to trees in the way. And oceans beyond the graves where horizons melt with waves and waves to land under fog and cloud. I sat with nothing; the Lord found me there.

I had nothing in me. Nothing about me. I was nothing. And in nothing trust remains.

I can't see beyond the ocean, but I know my home lies out there.

I don't know what awaits me except a life God's orchestrated.

I have nothing except a trust in the Lord for provision.

I have trust, but I don't even know it. It seems as though it should be an action taken on my part, but I've taken nothing and still I trust.

God still met me in the graveyard. I found God among desolation. I'm not sure if I was even seeking the Lord. At least, not in any conscious way. But my soul screamed for my Maker. My heart cried out. And the rest of me was completely oblivious.

I guess this is trust. Trust as an unknown occurrence. Something naturally happening. And, in a way, it is simple. As is much of life, we just don't realize it.

We trust in the smallest of things, but never acknowledge it. We take breath for breath knowing the air will still be there for another naturally consumed oxygen gulp. "Gulp" isn't the best word though because it suggests thought put to action like we had to think about inhaling such a massive amount instead of letting our lungs do what comes so naturally - breathing.

And, so in this same way, trust is a natural occurrence in a person's life. It simple happens. Take this concept back to the day of our birth, and trust is actually the only thing a person has. But it's done as easily and naturally as that very first gasp for air.

Trust is not the safety net itself; it is that particular hope in another person - no matter who that person is - to meet you wherever you're at. Whether you're falling off the face of the earth or standing side-by-side walking through life together.

Trust takes nothing, but asks for much. It is the lead in the Fox Trot. And it asks for the partner to follow.

Trust is emotional. It doesn't cancel out emotion. It is not a swell in the sea. It's not a wave breaking crashing roaring down with all it's fury till the tide calls it back. Trust is neither the ebb nor the flow to life. It is not the chaos or the calm.

Trust is the under current to life. It is the rip tide you could never feel at Horseneck beach. And I always wondered why dad wouldn't let me swim in certain areas of the beach. Why he would always stick close or why mom always stood ankle deep watching over us as we swam. They kept us close because they knew the power of the undertow and how it can sweep someone away in an instant.

And in a way, this is how trust is. You don't even know it's there. Most of the time we're completely ignorant of it's existence in our life. But trust is our rip tide.

You see, it's a matter of swimming out into the unknown. And I think it's fair to say that plenty of times it's not our taking some sort of crazy chance that brings us in contact with the rip tide. More often than not, it's like we're thrown out there. We're just given over to the waves. Blind sided. Life comes at us quicker than we can handle.

But that's when trust kicks in.

I mean, we're already part of the tip tide so why not just let it carry us where it will?

Confession XLV

2008-06-16T18:50:00.003-04:00

To whom it may concern:

My mouth is parched. Starved of water. Starved of drink. Of any smile like a sunset set behind clouds so darkness steals the day.

I drove down zoned-out roads not paying attention. I was alone. But I nearly crashed my car. Crashed into a blue van. Crashed into bogs. Into gray skies. Lonely eyes. Watered tears.

I told her, "I'm just getting through it. That's all I can do. Just get through it."

She replied, "That's sad." She was just going to bed when I spoke with her. "I'll speak to you tomorrow," she said. "Be happy?"

And with silence I knew it was time to leave her be. She needed to sleep. To dream. To go wherever God takes her.

"I'll try" was my goodbye. But I had no idea how to actually get through this. My summer was semi-planned out. Come August I'd be leaving the country. Entering some sort of strange future that I had no clue of. But all I knew is that God was on my side. And that's all I had to go on - trust.

The Lord is my strength and my song;

he has become my salvation.

- Psalm 118: 14

Confession XLIV

2008-06-14T17:27:00.003-04:00

It is the glory of God to conceal things,

but the glory of kings is to search

things out.

- Proverbs 25: 2

Under the deep blue sky I am lost.

I am lost at how the sun rises and rises and continually sets the day in motion.

I am lost at the touch of the wind on my sunburnt back - refreshing. At how it can comfort stupidity from some hours labored under hot summer sun.

I am lost with volcano boiling ponds on either side of my car as I drive through Myles Standish just after dawn.

And I am lost in love, both from God and from oceans away.

Because I am perpetually baffled, awestruck, left wondering how any of this life actually occurs. But I am completely cool with all of it. Some things are meant to be left to awe. Plenty of things confuse me, but it's like I'm this little kid figuring out the world and life and existence all at once.

Jack Johnson sings, "There were so many fewer questions when stars were just holes to heaven." I think we should live life this way - it's so simple, so enjoyable and we probably experience more of life when we don't try to reason away everything; just go with it.

I remember stargazing when I was younger. My parents would drive us out to the bogs where it would be pitch dark. No streetlights. Only the occasional passing car. And I'd get to lay on the roof of this old beat-up blue car. My dad would point out all the constellations. He must have known all of them. He named them off like they, each one of them, were his best friends. I'd look for shooting stars. And I always had to make a wish. But you know, I can't tell you any of them or else they won't come true; you know the rules. The time would pass so quickly. And I'd be taken to dreams. What were those giant fire balls in the sky anyways? And why were they in the shape of animals, or hunters, or princes with their fair maidens?

I don't know. But I still stared up at the sky. I still searched the heavens for whatever shiny coins they might throw my way. And that's what the stars were. It was all the loose change heavenly beings dropped. They were marbles for Pick Up Sticks. Celestial rocks skipping the galaxies like beach pebbles skipped on ocean waves. And they were whatever my imagination could dream up.

This whole less-than-a-century-or-possibly-more of an existence we are caught in is clearly untamed. Look at the stars. Look at whatever nature throws at you to testify to this untamed reality. Look at your friends, your circumstances, your situations - whether calm cool and collected or out of whack hell-laden passing moments - and tell me this reality is actually tame. Tell me you are sure of tomorrow. Wait, first tell me you are sure of all that's happened today.

You see, it's quite okay to not understand why things happen in particular ways. And it's okay to not comprehend why you fall in love with you ever you do. Or why without her you are heartsick though the time spent together in the past was only few. Or why she consumes your thoughts to the point of getting excited for her success, her life, her love over everything you are as a person - selfless. Or how God can bring two people together from opposite worlds through hope, through love and through faith with the greatest of these being love.

Things happen that are out of our control. We might never receive the answers for those mysteries while we still breathe.

But tell me this: if you don't question life, then look up at the sky and know that the stars might only be holes to heaven and walk on in your own reality.

Because I will revel in the comfort of being completely lost while searching for God.

Be. Lost. Searching.

Confession XLIII

2008-06-13T13:28:00.004-04:00

For great is his steadfast love toward us,

and the faithfulness of the Lord

endures forever.

- Psalm 117: 2

Immaculate morning. Breeze in the air. Wind in the summer. Cool calm driving. Drowning with the windows down. Taking the speed as it comes. And massaging the corners. Immaculate morning with blue skies and blue air and blue eyes smile at blue summer ocean waves weaving and stitching and sewing and kneading - he says, "It's beautiful out."

I return, "Completely."

Sometimes moments come together like an orchestra tuning their instruments. Staggered breaths - breaths, staggered thoughts - thoughts linking thoughts stagger-ing puzzle-piece-s found randomly in a box, but put links together logically.

And today is one of those days when it all came together perfectly. Completely.

I used to want the world to stop when perfect moments strike; I still do. But what about riding that moment out like riding a wave from the mid-Atlantic back home? Taking it in for all its worth? Living life the way it's meant to be lived - in perfect harmony? With heaven and earth. With God and man. With human and human like community wasn't just some idealistic concept, but it was neighborhoods or neighbors and friends and family within a world all come together.

It's not some geological phenomena that we are waiting for. Tectonic plates slide into place forming the continents we live on. Mountains and hills. Under sea ocean and clouds waving. It's the perspective we take. On how we let life divide us. Atlantics and Pacifics. Africas and Antarctics. On the excuses we make for putting up white picket fences claiming this land for me and taking you out of the picture.

It's the perspective we take that defines how we live life.

It's the perspective we take that defines how the world looks.

I look and I see green leaves for shade two stories up. Packed streets and commotion. A girl smoking and driving green car and smiling. A couple talking and drinking, looking eye to eye believing love never fails. Flowers in windows. Blue petals and pinks for glass art. Old man with glasses, dress suits for business. And a heart hung in public so the world knows it's still alive.

I see the world as perfect in this moment. And this moment has lasted the morning. Immaculate morning because the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever.

And check this: His steadfast love is great toward us.

So. Look. Again.

Confession XLII

2008-06-12T20:54:00.003-04:00

He raises the poor from the dust

and lifts the needy from the ash heap.

- Psalm 113: 7

I have too much. It was just the other evening when Josh and I talked about the simple life. I came to the conclusion that I'm fairly simple. I think we both agreed on each other's simple nature. Yet my simple is different from another man's simple. And even my simple is way too much.

In one day I can go shopping and spend $90 with barely a thought to the amount I choose to shell out. You know, $30 for khakis, then some $14 polos and a $40 pair of Chuck's. I drive around the world when gas is $4 a tank. I plug my $300 iPod into an $80 radio attachment and jam out to some old school Clash because that's good summer music. On a regular basis I carry around a $1200 investment and a $500 phone that all makes my world smaller. Easier. Quicker. All from the ease of a cushy life.

And I consider myself fairly simple...

But who am I kidding? I have. Way. More. Than most people.

I'm not sure when I first saw a homeless person. But whenever I notice someone wandering the streets without a place to lay his head, it's like it's the first time all over again. My heart breaks. My breath staggers. Stops. Thoughts of what I can do for him race through my head. And the indifferent thoughts are inevitable; they come along for the ride too.

Even though I can look at my life right now and say that I own an overload of a comfortable lifestyle, when the quick moments of hard life come to the surface: I. Barely. Do. A. Thing. To. Help.

When in fact I'm always praying for God to use me. When I want to be His hands and feet. When I want to serve someone. Help someone. Comfort that person. Lend a hand with whatever I can. Be there. For someone. Just. Like. Me.

I stall. I stop. I think twice. But what is this? Am I a hypocrite? Am I someone who doesn't follow through with what he says? Do I only pray the easy prayers, but don't put my faith into action? When will I realize I am just like him? The only difference being our circumstances. We are both.

Human.

Because when it comes down to it, it doesn't matter how much I have; it matters how much I can give.

Obviously the Lord is sovereign. Omnipotent. Omniscient. Omnipresent. He is God. And He will raise the poor out of the dust. And He will lift the needy from the ash heap. But don't wait to experience this. Don't look for some miracle where that homeless guy wearing shaggy clothes magically turns into a clean shaven Donald Trump.

No.

Ask yourself what you will do for this man. Ask yourself what you will give to see him have another go at the "good life." Ask yourself how God will work through you. To bring life. To someone else.

Then make a choice that honors the Lord. Make a choice that you won't regret. There have been too many times where I passed by someone in need. Where I did nothing. That something that I could have done isn't some massively grand life-rescuing feat, but it's the simple choice to give what coins I have rattling my pockets. To maybe buy a sandwich for him. To meet his need, whatever it may be. It's that simple change in direction - Stop - that is truly life saving.

Realize it's about the giving, not what you give.

Change. Saves. Lives.

Confession XLI

2008-06-09T18:43:00.003-04:00

Apply your heart to instruction

and your ear to the words of knowledge.

- Proverbs 23: 12

He told me he thinks about her a lot. That he just wants to speed up time and give her all the hours in a day. He said he would give her the world, but she is just that far away.

I had to rush to work today. I sped over hills and rounded corners like the road was a race track. I missed the pond. Missed the fog that lingers over it like a child shyly frightened to dip even his toe into the unknown. I missed the sunrise. Missed the fenced-in light behind rows of trees. And missed what God offered me to wake up to.

I did it all to be at work on time. I did it so I fit into a schedule. So life could be planned to the T where I met the itinerary right on time.

Was it worth it?

Too much of the time I rush around. I spend hours in the car going this way and that. And most of the time I'm driving over the speed limit. Get that. I barely limit myself in those regards. It's like I'm better than that sign telling me to drive within the regulation. I'm better than that system. Why slow down? Why wait?

"I'm more important than the law."

"I've got to be there" - wherever there is - "now!"

She told him the waiting's hard. And he agreed. She says it hurts. And he knows that anxious pain all too well. But all he can do is wait.

I wonder if what I missed along my drive this morning will be in the sunset tonight? You know how sometimes you just want to tell God what to do. You just want to sit down with the Old Man and be frank with Him. Convince Him that He should be doing things this way instead of that way. Because your buddies and all; that's what buddies do, right?

You know, you sit down with Him. Chat for a little while. Throw back some brews. Shoot the breeze. And simply relax together. Because, you know, you just want to show Him that He could be doing things a little differently, which would definitely be beneficial to your own self.

To a certain extent, that's how it is. Not to throw out pre-determination , or the Lord being King over our lives, or anything which even hints at Him not being the God Almighty. But I'm saying that we are in relationship. We are in a position to talk to the Creator even though it might feel awkward speaking to someone, something, some type of Being who created the heavens and the earth and everything in between. We are given the opportunity to hold conversation.

We are given to the Lord and we made that decision ourselves.

You see, when I rush around I forget about what I'm a part of. I just want it my way and I want it now. I don't want to slow down in those instances, but it's in the taking-the-foot-off-the-pedal process where I notice God the most in this relationship. Where I'm able to appreciate His splendor. Where I'm able to understand how He's leading me in life. Glimpses into where He's leading me as well.

When I slow down I'm more a part of a real relationship that's constantly evolving.

And so it's not about your doing whatever you can to fit into some strict time table for life. Though making it to work on time is a plus. But it's about being open to the idea that you are in relationship with the God of the universe 24/7. That the relationship is always going on around you, with you. That no matter what you will not miss out on anything.

But realize that you also have to be willing to slow down in order to understand the supernatural not-out-of-reach conceptualization of life: God in relationship with you.

And. That. Relationship. Is. Life.

Confession XL

2008-06-06T18:11:00.003-04:00

He is not afraid of bad news;

his heart is firm trusting in the Lord.

- Psalm 112: 7

It's friday with 23 years gone. Saturday marks one more day. Sunday follows suit. When I was younger I always wanted to be the big kid. But I was just the little pesty brother following Mike around. He's five years older than me. So with circumstances out of my hands, since I'm the middle child, I'm not sure if I'll ever be the big kid.

I remember always wanting to be in high school. There was a certain awe about the halls of that building. I was only in sixth grade when my brother was a senior. What were those halls like that he walked everyday? Did it really look like it does in the movies?

You see, when Mike roamed those giant halls I had a regimented block schedule. Kids were only allowed to go to their lockers at the assigned times. Certain staircases were for walking up while others were for descents. I'm not sure what I really expected to be different about high school, but there was something different, regardless.

Maybe it's that I would be taller than five feet so I could actually reach the top shelf of the lockers without struggling. That's more of my own genetics rather than the true experience of higher education. So maybe it was the fact that I'd have more freedom. And I guess the type of freedom I thought of was school being more fun. A place where I could leave the classroom when I wanted and go chill in some cool student lounge. Where I could joke around with teachers like they were my friends. And where in one single life changing moment everyone broke out in song and dance following in the footsteps of Grease, crossing the generations of cheesy teen flicks to today's very own, quite cleverly titled, High School Musical.

Well, even at 23 I don't think I'm the big kid. It really doesn't much matter anymore. High school's gone. College is gone. And I'm growing up. But there is one thing that's remained all throughout: a trust in God.

You see, with this whole big kid thing, this whole natural obsession with wanting to move onto the next step - God was always there to lead me on. To show me the next thing in life. To bring me from a barely five-foot freshman to seven more inches and a Bachelor's degree. So now what?

I guess I leave my trust in the Lord. It got me this far, and I say that not meaning to downplay this trust or make it into some sort of tool for my own narcissistic progression. It's that I don't know where my days will take me, but I know they will lead me on to God. Because, yeah, it still is about being that big kid, but just in a different sense from physical stature.

Trusting in the Lord is about taking that next step. A life continually spent in transition, as it is, needs an anchor. From day to day we must find ourselves in the Almighty's grasp. But don't try to reason this. I mean, most of the time it's an unconscious decision. We simply trust regardless of circumstances. We wake to a world never at bay; we walk into a place where movement, motion, chaos and crowded streets are tangible observations of never ending time. We are always looking to the next horizon and walking into the sunset just so we can start things over and over again in new ways.

We experience life differently all the time.

So let life go on as it will naturally. Be yourself not trying to figure out what this whole trust thing is all about. And just trust in God while living life normally.

Natural. Ordinary. Progression.

Thought #39

2008-06-05T18:17:00.002-04:00

For the righteous will never be moved;

he will be remembered forever.

- Psalm 112: 6

I drove down Lower College Pond and watched clouds take flight. The fog boiled over the surface of the water. The wind swept it like a broom taken to dust. It was before eight in the morning. The day was ready. And I went on.

So I have this Hollywood-esk picture of what dating's meant to be. An almost It's A Wonderful Life outlook. Where boy meets girl, but both are shy so barely any "hello" or "nice to meet you" or "wow, you are completely gorgeous" is spoken even though that's all going through their minds. Where notes are passed across the classroom. Blushing's in order. And then come the Winter Formal or Sadie Hawkins the "big" question's asked: "Will you go to the dance with me?" One thing leads to another and soon you're going steady, as it were. Boy gives girl his pin. Girl wears boy's letterman jacket. Then parking during sunsets spent up on cliff sides overlooking a fading world is a must. The rest is history.

Well, what about that ideal relationship? That relationship declaring, "no matter what may come to be - no matter what - we will work with this to make it happen"? Or that relationship waiting overseas looking forward to the day when embracing is all there will ever be because boy just does not want to let girl go?

Then there is always that soldier going off to war on some foreign soil leaving his beloved behind till one day when he comes back for her thinking. The scenario that says, "I will write you everyday." "I will keep your photo close." "I will always remember you." "And by all this, you will know my love for you. So please don't cry and please don't mourn; I'll be home soon."

That relationship defined by the hours going back and forth to check the post. Where anticipation keeps the days fresh for lovers spent apart. And where nothing's really a guessing game because all doubts are calmed by randomly sent flowers or telephone calls made just to say, "you're beautiful." That relationship, which for all its worth, is simple: "I love you."

Well, I may not have it all figured out yet, but to me, love is simple. And I know this from what I have with God. I have drives through the state forest at breaking day. Drives past evaporating ponds, past a world that apparently longs for what's above. And maybe this evaporation, morning dew after nightly falling skies is some sort of hint that we truly do live among the heavenlies; I guess it only takes a change of perspective to notice it. It only takes a morning drive.

The one thought I have in the car is silent. I don't know what to say. Words aren't necessary. I look around and know the Lord remembers me. I know my love is secure in Him. And that's ideal.

Tomorrow I may not see the same sights, but God's letter to me will still come in the mail. It will be different though. It might not come as a vacuumed up pond, but something will catch my eye to re-assure me of God's brilliance in this whole love affair. For now I play the anticipation game. I wonder what will come next. And I go on spending my time in reality knowing this thing with God is ideal.

And that's all reflected in my own tangible affaire de coeur. So once she's in my arms I'll keep hold for as long as possibly can be. And for now I will always remember her. She's never gone, only oceans away.

I wait.

Thought #38

2008-06-04T18:57:00.002-04:00

The works of his hands are faithful and

just;

all his precepts are trustworthy;

they are established forever and ever,

to be performed with faithfulness and

uprightness.

- Psalm 111: 7 & 8

It's one of those rainy days when you just spend the whole day inside. Those days always used to bug me when I was a kid. I was the rambunctious type. The child that needed to be duct taped into his car seat because he'd always magically climb out. A regular old little Houdini. The type that when sentenced to his room for a "time out" would jump out the window, using the bulked for a landing pad and then would proceed to knock on the front door until he was let back in. Not sure my parents knew what they were signed up for when I was born.

I think today I cherish rainy days more than despise them. There's something about the wet that gives me comfort. Something that re-assures me of the Old Man way up in the sky. Of His love. Of His care. Of all that He is for He truly is God, the Alpha & Omega who was and is and is to come.

That's what they taught me in Sunday School and to this day I tend to believe it. It's not some belief based on nostalgia or any picture perfect childhood memory. It's a belief supported by wet days because then heaven becomes earth and that's all there is. Heaven's gentle steady deluge consuming all in its path.

So on rainy days I live among heaven. I walk wet streets. I am drenched. And I notice that I'm a part of something so must more than myself. It's more apparent to me. God's touch is tangible. His love and care become real to me rather than mere Bible stories. Heaven becomes earth for a few wet moments.

The rain comes out of no where to me. Especially since I grew up in New England. The old quote for us New Englanders is, "If you don't like the weather, then wait a minute." It's true. The skies can change rapidly here. One moment it's bright and sunny, the next it's depressingly dreary.

I've definitely come to like the rain though. It's God's faithfulness, you know?

There's this cemetery just over the Wareham line that seems to hold funerals near weekly. And it's only raining on those sad days. The combination of rain and death makes me smile for some odd reason. It's not some psychotic creepy reason. It just seems like God empathizes with the family of the deceased. Not that it's the cliche God's crying sort of empathy, but the personal reminder that God is here with us forever and ever. His faithfulness. His just response to any who mourn or are afflicted. And His drip for drop million-and-one reasons for us to know all His precepts are trustworthy. A tap dancing on tin roof reminder of His character.

This is God in the rain: every rain drop you feel falling, hit your head and make it's river-way down your body till it hits the ground; or any drop you drink turning your head to the clouds and opening your mouth wide like you're discovering rain again for the first time; or any heavenly drop you see stream in slow motion right before your eyes; it's one more reason why this whole thing is real. Why this going to church is not for nothing. Why this trying so hard to believe in what we cannot see is a response to all we've truly beheld before. (Maybe you just can't remember what you beheld, but what you beheld some time ago in your heart is falling right before you. Look.)

Can't you see the rain?

Can't you feel the wet?

Can't you milk each moment for all its worth?

Now can't you experience heaven on a rainy day?

Thought #37

2008-06-03T18:02:00.004-04:00

The works of his hands are faithful and

just;

all his precepts are trustworthy.

- Psalm 111: 7

Here I am: just some guy who enjoys going to church, who tries opening the Word on a not-so-regular basis, and who, for some reason, is completely in love with a Being not of this world. I can't even see God. I don't hear God like some crazy famous actor's voice coming out of parting clouds telling me, "If you build it they will come." This whole Christian-walk-faith-journey-thing isn't like that for me.

I don't shake at church during worship.

If I'm prayed over I'm more pushed down than falling by the touch of the Spirit.

If I sound like I'm singing in tongues, it's only because I mispronounce the lyrics.

The only epiphanies heaven sends me are when I experience the fullness of nature realizing that there must be a Creator. Because how can a sweep of air be so refreshing after spending a day inside? Or how can glistening water avert my eyes from the busyness of life? Or how can a million different choices of natural everyday occurrences bring to mind the idea of God?

(How is it possible for a person to miss out on these common occasions?)

And you know, this whole life spent going after God is so completely different from anything I know. It's even different from perceptions and misconceptions about what Christianity is. Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm just too relaxed about it. I don't think that's a crime though. God created me to semi-slouch in my chair at church. To close my eyes during the sermon and look like I'm sleeping when I'm actually completely at peace - the only perfect peace I know and it's spent in the presence of the Almighty.

I don't think any of that truly explains why this God connection is the way it is; that's just my experience I told you of. What makes it so unique is the Lord's continual faithfulness even though "continual faithfulness" is quite repetitive. That's the thing. God's repetitive in His nature when connecting with us. Yet each repetition is unique.

When on one day I'm going through hell - beginning to understand I'm leaving everything from the comfort of my own bed to the ritualistic drives down Federal Furnace, and understanding that in two months all of my loved ones will only be a voice on a phone. When on one day I nearly lose it. Crying. And all together freaking out, God shows up. He meets me on a bench in the cemetery behind School Street. As I sit there I notice Him just in the way the wind rustles the leaves. In the way my eyes can scan and rescan the horizon but always see something new. Like God just put it there as if it were some game of Hide & Seek or Peek-a-boo. And each time I just say, "I love you."

Other days the Lord still meets me, but this time it's different. The repetitive meetings will always go on, but they won't be in the same place, the same time, or anything similar other than the fact that God is faithful to us. The Lord's repetition is his faithfulness.

And that faithfulness is not one that's always reciprocated in myself. I don't always show the Lord the same faithfulness that's seemingly due Him. An almost obligated faithfulness that says, "Since the Lord did this for me, I must do that for Him." He's faithful no matter what. And I don't get it. But I go along with it. And I live a life as sacrificial to God as much as I know how. One that fails plenty of times. But one that also succeeds on occasion. One that strives to get to God however getting to God can be got. And one that says, "Hey Lord," because most of the time I don't actually know what to say.

In the end, God is faithful. So I'll trust Him. Somehow.

Thought #36

2008-06-02T17:26:00.002-04:00

The plans of the diligent lead surely to

abundance,

but everyone who is hasty comes only

to poverty.

- Proverbs 21: 5

I am moving away from all I've known for 23 years. My whole life is in 56 Myles Standish Drive. I barely know the world I live in, but I'm going out to explore. I'm leaving family and friends, security and comfort, a place where I can give you exact directions from Fall River to Carver in multiple ways. Then I can tell you, "It'll take a good hour to make the drive," no matter what a "good hour" clarifies or leaves ambiguous. I'm leaving my childhood, my adolescence, and my college years. And I know that soon London will be where I live, but will it be home?

I enter a future with no expectations, with no pre-defined notion of what tomorrow holds and with no concept of how God actually plans on moving in my life. But at least I know that much, that God will move, that He will meet me right where I'm at. It's happened before. It's happening now. And it's a continual occurrence in this walk with God.

All I can do is work for the future while remaining in this moment - now. All I know has been and is happening. I am part of some grand scheme far beyond my comprehension. And each minute is like a revelation from the Maker Himself. Revelations formed like Tetris parts where I see them at the top of the screen, I live them falling down, and I help direct and align myself with what God has for me.

The moments that make up life are Tetris blocks. I must be diligent in how I connect them, in where I let them fall, in which way they are placed that fits into the last piece allowing for the next item to fit perfectly. And it's all wonderfully orchestrated, this transaction between God--me and--life.

I don't understand this past month let alone the fleeting year. I can't tell you how this American boy came to be in London, or how a possible life spent in the British Isles found a home in my thoughts. I can't tell you why I gave up the job I loved or why it went down the way it did - like the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. And I can't tell you how I went for a foreign job interview on a whim with barely a dime to my name. But I've set out on this path and am walking from the highest peaks to the deepest valleys.

I'm taking life as it comes to me. But I'm also meeting life in the middle. It's a healthy balance. I am rolling with the punches while anticipating the next move. I am careful and cautious: I am daring and gambling when it comes to the unseen. And I have a hope and a confidence that this is what God has for me.

So I go for it. I leave my 23-year homestead for an unknown frontier. I deal with restless night sleeps, an oxymoronic way of saying I barely got any shut eye, because I dreamt of the troubles at Kiskadee or was anxious about school since I won't receive my degree until 12 days before I leave the country. I barrel through being burnt out from daily stresses. Because I am heartsick for a girl not within arm's reach. A girl constantly kept in my heart. And one whom once I embrace I'll never let go.

I don't let any of this phase me. If I do, God's there to snap me out of it. To re-assure me everything will be alright. To speak to me when I don't read the Bible for weeks on end. To give me peace and quiet when I barely get in a prayer. To all together love me no matter what.

And this is the life I lead. Living within an untamed reality. Trying to schedule minute for minute, but never succeeding. And through it all, I am relaxed. I am at ease. And I am with God.

Thought #35

2008-06-01T22:12:00.002-04:00

A man's steps are from the Lord;
how then can man understand his
way?
- Proverbs 20: 24

A storm's coming. The skies are dark over the bay. The air is heavy. And all the leaves are still; no wind. Main Street's walking like no one cares. No one's taking cover. But it's so clear, a storm is coming.

I'm glad it storms though. I'm glad there's more to a Sunday than just another sunny day. It gives me a reason to remember leaving the United Parish after a service and going for munchkins across the street at Dandy Donuts. Nostalgia. Near perfection in a child's eyes. Back then there was nothing more than that for a Sunday.

Today's imminent storm and internal hurricanes send me back to God. I can't understand His way, but I know it to be true. For it to be right. And for it to be worth weathering these raging seas.

Because you see, life is not motionless. We are not static beings living among statues. And in this way, we do not know what's ahead. These storms are prominent to us when we come against them. And some times they're all we can see. They're all we know.

But at the same time we need to realize that our steps come from the Lord. And that's all we need to know, especially during those tough times. Those times when you don't open the Bible, but God still meets you. He still speaks to you even though you're not reading any part of His Word. Get that. Know that all your steps come from the Lord. Even if you can't utter His name aloud. Even if you can't seem to pray anything. Even if all you've got is a blank stare into the horizon, past the ocean, and under the clouds. You may seem to have nothing, and that may be true, but God has you. He has your footsteps. He's guiding your way.

Now I understand why Main Street still walks under looming skies; you can't stop just because life seems to be going horribly at the moment. No one takes cover because they understand the storms will come whether they run under the nearest awning or not. Life still happens whether pleasant of painful. The thing is, God's still with you - in your every step.

Maybe you can look at your situation differently now. Maybe that's all it'll take to get through one more minute. Maybe it's just the simple thought of God giving you each step that will take you into tomorrow. Just maybe we're living like it's meant to be.

Run. Walk. Step.

Thought #34

2008-05-31T13:19:00.002-04:00

Many are the plans in the mind of a man,
but it is the pupose of the Lord that
will stand.
- Proverbs 19: 21

Rainy morning. Cobweb cherry trees. Time traipsing. Tallies for waterdrops giving drink to a world below. Partially passing like puzzlepiece-moments collecting for life and donating all tithes to tomorrow.

I don't know what tomorrow holds, but I'm cool with that ignorance. I plan so many things. I used to want to be a baseball player; I think I still want that. And there was definitely that wanting to be a policeman infatuation, but more like an old country western sheriff with my trusty six shooter at my side keeping a future ghost town safe. And now I want to be a writer, an artist, a 21st Century Frost or Kerouac writing contemporary Moby Dick's, Dover Beach's and searching for God like Pilgrim. I want to be an ex-pat living in London, a lover, a father, a hero and a Stranger Knight. But these wants, these plans are tiny in comparison to God's way.

These are only my thoughts and they barely register as even a section of my thoughts. That's all. They're not grand plans even though they may seem like it. I mean, how do I get to London on $78? And how will my writing actually evolve into something remotely as historical as Shakespeare?

But then I drive down 3A to White Horse on the first true summer evening of the season and am reminded of the life I'm given. The Lord is my way. And His puposes are exterior to Himself. They overflow onto us like we're captured in the vastness of a sunset.

I may not understand what tomorrow actually is, but I'm cool with that because, no matter what, God's purpose will stand.

Relax. Enjoy. Live.

Thought #33

2008-05-28T20:16:00.004-04:00

Know that the Lord, he is God!

It is he who made us, and we are his;

we are his people, and the sheep of

his pasture.

- Psalm 100: 3

I'm not sure what kind of life you have. But I know that life can seem like hell at certain points. Like all you want to do is walk out behind School Street and sit up on Burial Hill. And when you climb the steps in those moments each step is its own Everest. Somehow you still move on. Then when you're at the top of that desolate place you sit on a lonely bench. Stare out at the ocean with trees shadowing the way. And you catch glimpses of the wind passing by. And the world is a wash in that moment. But everything still exists like hell flooded in.

You sit and cling to your Bible. You don't even open it. That's not necessary. You cling on to the only thing you know to be true - "That the Lord, he is God!" Even that thought doesn't pass your mind. Because you're too consumed in all the happenings. You're rushed out of the life you knew. To go. Leave.

But how do you move on? How do you truly leave what you've loved for the last four years? What you've poured your heart and soul into? How do you just pack up camp in an instant and leave?

Well, you don't.

But you sit on that bench with one thought on your mind - "It is he who made us, and we are his." Because no matter what happens in life there's always that one constant. There's always God.

And you should know that. You should know that where ever you are in life at this very moment, God is God. You should know that He is your God. And more importantly, you should know that you are His. No matter what, you are a part of the world God created - you are "the sheep of his pasture."

Headaches and tears. Torn from love and thrown to thorns among roses on graves and graves against skies - the horizon's melting into waves. Far beyond all the fog and under the clouds lies the life you want, but the only way to get there is through the waves weathering storms. Colliding worlds. Falling stars. Wishes washing overboard.

God is God. And God is still there. Celestial collisions among natural man. You are His. Wandering among pastures with one single piece of knowledge - the Lord is God.

Leave. Sit. Know. God.

(Is with you.)

Thought #32

2008-05-15T21:05:00.006-04:00

The name of the Lord is a strong tower;
the righteous man runs into it and is
safe.
- Proverbs 18: 10

"The name of the Lord" - His name. It's so simple. It's so simple to get to that strong tower, that place of safety, that simply being with the Lord.

So the day is gray. It is overcast. And it is cold in May. It is everything that it shouldn't be. Or, at least, it looks that way. Do you know those days? When it all feels so-so wrong? When nothing seems clear? The air plagued by screaming sirens and another person's getting dragged to the hospital? When you sit for hours just staring out the window not thinking, silent and lost?

See, this whole thing is silly. I mean, why do we unknowingly allow life to be bothersome? "The name of the Lord is a strong tower." That means we just need to call on His name. That's all. There's no reason we need to allow this illness to remain in our bodies. Because, you know on these days nothing tastes good, nothing satisfies you like somehow it is poison that is not lethal, but it makes you hurt and hurt and clench your stomach all the more tighter.

But come on, we have a God who's name is a strong tower. All it takes is one breath. One word. One measly little prayer or something of that nature. Maybe you don't have enough strength to even vocally cry out to God; your heart's been doing that for hours now.

So find comfort in the knowledge that the Lord's name is a safe haven.

And be at ease with your experience of the Lord's name covering your life.

Please ask yourself who the Lord is to you. Find His name. And run to safety.

Thought #31

2008-05-06T20:13:00.003-04:00

Exalt the Lord our God,

and worship at his holy mountain;

for the Lord our God is holy.

- Psalm 99: 9

Do you know the Lord our God is holy?

Petalled trees. Blue skies. And the world viewed through painted glass like waves. Pinks. Greens. And whites. Flowers like tumbleweeds skipping down the street. Let it catch your eye. Let it bring you back to the beginnings. Back to the basics. Back to when you first believed in God.

And remember your awe.

Remember your confusion.

Remember all your questions.

Because how is God actually God? And how can we actually conceptualize the Lord when we ask the question, "Who is He?"

This is not a trick. Trust me, there are no deceptive undertones to these remembrances. It's just a pure raw understanding of God. It's that moment when you look up into a starry night and have nothing to say; you can't find the words, or maybe they do not even exist. Because we fail at truly conceptualizing God for God. And there is no hurt in that. There's no wrong in our thinking of who the Lord is. It's just that we can't fathom His holiness. So all we can say is that He is holy.

But then where do we start? How do we begin to even describe what is holy?

Maybe we don't. For isn't that the true test of faith? Isn't believing in this Almighty Being without grazing the surface of what we actually believe in, the notion behind belief? Belief in the unknown. Blind faith as it goes.

Well, be blinded today. For the Lord our God is holy.

Fathom the unfathomable.

Thought #30

2008-05-05T12:42:00.002-04:00

Then let us arise and go up to Bethel, so that I may make there an alter to the God who answers me in the day of my distress and has been with me wherever I have gone.

- Genesis 35: 3

Where is that place for you, that House of God (Bethel)? Figure that out and you'll be alright. I'm telling you, everything will be alright. You'll get through this You'll make it. It's not always a matter of perseverance. You're allowed to stop some times. You don't have to keep going at the same pace; you don't want to burn out. But I'm telling you, it's okay. Things are changing.

Find that place.

Find that home.

Find God.

And then come to realize that the Lord has been there the whole time. Know that He answers you in your time of distress. Know that He has been with you wherever you have gone.

So bring yourself before your Maker. Go there, to the Almighty. It's not one specific place. It's where God dwells. It's where you first noticed Him.

And then bring everything to a God who shows His steadfast love. Build yourself an alter. And give an offering. Give what you can. If that is nothing but yourself, then give it. If that is everything that comprises your world, then give it all. But arise and go up to the House of God. Do what is necessary. And do it because here is a God who answers you, who is with you - from everlasting to everlasting (Psalm 90:2).

Know that whatever you do and wherever you go in life, God will be there. But know also that you need to bring yourself to your God.

(You will make it through. No worries.)

Thought #29

2008-05-04T22:29:00.002-04:00

The heavens proclaim his righteousness,
and all the peoples see his glory.
- Psalm 97: 6

It's about going back to where you came form. About finding that place of comfort where everything feels right. Where nothing's bothersome. A place where everything seemingly magically disappears. Because sometimes we need those retreats.

Then it's all about finding life again. About relaxing, enjoying life for what it is. And realizing that God is there the whole time.

It's no mystery that God is ever-present in your life. He reveals Himself everyday. No, it's not by any cleverness, or anything resembling some sort of treasure hunt, or by any Hide and Seek fashion.

It is simple.

It is pure.

It is real.

And it is a constant continuing revelation minute-by-minute-by-every-possible-moment-to-life. And it is all around. In the way the trees bloom come May. In all the rains that just passed. In the corona of a setting sky. In the way the air playfully rings around your body.

God is in the whole of the world.

It's about doing whatever you have to, or the purposeful lack thereof, to notice your God.

That's all. Nothing fancy.

Thought #28

2008-05-03T10:34:00.006-04:00

Ascribe to the Lord the glory due his

name;

bring an offering, and come into his

courts!

- Psalm 96: 8

She said it was bright and sunny over there. Sandal weather. And she said that I sounded so far away especially when I told her it was raining. "But the rain is a good thing," she said.

So much of this world is different even in the same moment. Even clock hands point different ways, but the conversation could be happening at the same time. What I'm trying to say is our God is not a God of the "same." Not one who prefers routine. Or schedules. Or life copied and duplicated as if no beauty existed at all. As if nothing grew wild. The world tamed. Put in a cage somewhere in some laboratory like God got bored, made an assembly line and re-lived the same exact moment over and over again.

We all know that we're different, right? That we don't want to be just some number living some Orwellian fantasy? Maybe we acknowledge this blue-eyed v. brown-eyed fact, and maybe it's that we don't live it. That we don't truly comprehend the fact that we are unique.

I mean, we say we're different, but then at Church it's like we're all the same. We sing the same words, we recite the same prayers, we act accordingly with the Christian culture. We agree with the same statements like abortion is murder, homosexuality is an abomination, thou shall not become drunk, and then go preach the Word unto all the world. And all I'm saying is do we understand these ideologies or are we just in agreement with our pastor's sermon because being the same is the easy thing to do.

I'm not saying that being of one accord is wrong because it's not (Acts 2:44). It's just we need to know our God for ourself. We need to "bring an offering." We need to bring ourself - different. Unique.

So when you come before God, know yourself. Know your God for who He is. Then know you for who He created you to be. And bring your own offering.

She told me she was going out tonight. And I said, "I'm going out now, but I just woke up."

Thought #27

2008-05-01T10:31:00.004-04:00

Oh come, let us worship and bow down;

let us kneel before the Lord, our

Maker!

- Psalm 95: 6

It's not time for church; it's not Sunday. Routine is so bland. Don't think of Sunday as being the only day you're allowed to meet with God. You know those 10 o'clock services where if you don't get your Dunkin' Donuts 32 oz iced vanilla Dunkachino-type-drink with heart spiking amounts of caffeine, you will not stay awake. Not to mention, those comfortable chairs in the sanctuary don't help your cause.

Isn't it the sanctuary we're really talking about? A place to come before God? to worship? and bow down? You know, that tangible architectural structure?

So look around you. Be woken by the song birds singing in the morning. Let the dawn infiltrate your bedroom. Go on with your day. Look at the rays of light breaking the mountains of clouds. Of all the same. Of similar colors. White. Trace the paths of the breeze as it caresses you. Catch the light, glowing soft amber hues, as you look at your beloved out of the corner of your eye. Summer sweetness. Perfect bliss.

This is a natural sanctuary you experience every day. Every single day you are consumed, captured, locked by simply breathing air into your lungs; you are caught in God's sanctuary without realization of where each step takes you - closer to your Maker. It's not like you're walking closer to the grave, but you are finding life among the true sanctuary of Creation. You are in church.

See, it's not a matter of going to church because church is all around you. It's the action you take that makes church. It's your decision to worship. Your decision to bow down. And your decision to kneel before the Lord (with others).

So whatever you decide today, know there are no boundaries with God. He is met anywhere and everywhere.

Today is a sanctuary.

Thought #26

2008-04-30T18:44:00.004-04:00

Before the mountains were brought forth,

or ever you had formed the earth and

the world,

from everlasting to everlasting you

are God.

- Psalm 90: 2

From everlasting to everlasting you are God.

From time to time, from beginning to end, from before this sunset sets on my notepad, before even the thought of sunsets or suns and moons and stars, the earth the skies the world the winds, and anything that has breath, you are God.

And then past the ending of time as we know it, past the blazing sun switched off like street lights at dawn to, what we may think of as, nothing, you are God.

You are God. This doesn't make sense, but you are God. When I wake at 7:00, you are God. When I go to class at 10:00, you are God. When I drive, when I walk, then when I stop, stand still, came to the end of the world and stared out on the bay wondering what more could possibly be in store for this life as I know it, you are God. But I still don't get it.

Nothing. Blank stares. Zoning out. Taken back. Swept off my feet. Smiling.

Take time to be awestruck by your God.

(When I end this, you are still God.)

Thought #25

2008-04-29T18:27:00.004-04:00

Faithfulness springs up from the ground,
and righteousness looks down from
the sky.
- Psalm 85: 11

I want a roadmap to life. Yeah, after high school I knew another four years of education were in store. But now what? College is done. That infamous "real world" sits on the stoop. And in two weeks it will knock. Constant rat-a-tats rat-a-tats rapping at my door. Do I sit back, go insane, listening to repetitive beats? What's next?

Well, I move with the day's rhythm. There are already pre-set cycles in existence like January till December, from Spring to Summer, Autumn leaves then a Winter frost. And they always occur. We are so acclimated to our orbit that we never stop to realize a roadmap's already present.

Winds blow. The cherry tree blossoms. Reds. Greens from the ground. Tulips in a circle. Still skies shifting puzzle pieces on a chess board chasing chasms slip and leave holes in the rain for the skies to fall down.

A constant reminder that all is not chaos. But that in Spring flowers bloom in the sight of the sun and by the touch of deluge nights. Morning dew. Frost is gone. And the world wakes even earlier like it is closer to the sun in April.

It is all faithful. The sun does not choose a different path each day. The sky remains. And in Spring color is back on the cherry tree in my front yard. The branches are weathered from Winter, but at least they have a covering now. Everything remains faithful before the sight of God and the sight of man.

But why don't we notice these natural testimonies? The world is alive around us and we should be taking notes on how to live. On how to keep going. On how to make it through anything no matter the eventfulness or dull or cathartic crazed moments causing an untamed aspect to life. Because, you see, our roadmap is right before us. And all it says it to remain faithful. That righteousness looks down from above. And because of these two denominators, life goes on.

Imitate. Remain. Faithful.

Thought #24

2008-04-28T21:27:00.007-04:00

Whoever gives thought to the word will
discover good,
and blessed is he who trusts in the
Lord.
- Proverbs 16: 20

Life gets taxing at times. And those times remain stagnant like all your world went to destruction. Because your days are hard. Annoying. Tough to bear. Disappointing. You get hurt from what, at any other time, seems small. It's that open wound. It's your world changing before your eyes and you don't know how to handle it.

Rains fall. Flood. Beading off the windshield. Drops. Everything lets go. Cables cut loose. Sun's lost behind the clouds. Black. Dark. Damp. Waves swamp highways. And April's found drowned with Atlantis.

But the rains have to come. They have to. And, unfortunately, you have to deal with it. I won't tell you how to deal with it (because even I don't know). Sometimes you have to embrace the situation for what it is. And you need air. Plenty of times you will be choking. Gasping. Frantically fighting for breath. So fight. And fight. Fight some more.

But know that you need to go under the blankets of water to struggle. To battle. To rage against all happening; you can't change the situation. You can only look at it from another angle.

Drown in the dripdrop pitterpatter precipitation. Bells toll. Bells toll. Toll three times telling twelve o'clock noon holds no sun in New England skies. Muddy oceans toss and turn and never sleep. When out at sea all goes to hell. All goes wrong. Smooth sailing's only a love song for the optimist. Washed overboard. Gone.

You need to wait out the storm. Let the waves carry you where they will. And wait. You need to give thought to the matter, to the word. It takes time. It takes hours when hours turn to days and days to weeks till sometimes repetition is in order. You need to give thought, to dwell on the matter.

Okay. So remain angry. Remain hurt. Cycle through all the emotions this seemingly self-destructive life-ending turmoil of a situation elicits. (Who cares?) Go out back of the shop and stand in the rain texting that perfect person "i can't handle this anymore." And get soaked. And stand longer. And cry. Simply cry. Because that is the only language you know while you stand freezing shuddering not knowing if you're blurry-eyed from rain? or tears?

This is you.

This is you in life.

This is life.

There is never any getting used to it. I'm not sure if we're meant to . But we are not meant to float to seabeds and sleep eternally lost among the water wild. Those emotions are only passing. The time is temporary, but that doesn't mean it's quick.

Not only are we to think on the matter, but we're to trust God. It's a process. It's a period of time. It's something we constantly learn to do. The teachings stick more when they come in times of pain. Of grief. Of nearly giving up. Quitting. Not knowing how to get through another torturous overbearing can't-handle-it-any-longer moment.

But this truly is the perfect moment to give it all up to God, trusting. This is when we inherently, naturally and somehow supernaturally just let it all go. Most of the time it's not even thought about. Unconscious. We are ignorant to the fact that we actually give control over to God. Somehow it happens like it's built into us. Like God will always be there for us whether we ask Him to be or not. Like He won't overwhelm us to a final breaking point.

And the moment we break is the moment we trust. The moment we trust is the moment we're blessed. The moment we're blessed is the moment we discover good. And the moment we discover good is the moment we give thought to the word. Then it all begins again giving thought to the matter.

Each drop from a cloud hastens its path so the sun can be seen again.

Thought #23.1

2008-04-25T17:10:00.009-04:00

Your way was through the sea,

your path through the great waters;

yet your footprints were unseen.

- Psalm 77: 19

Life:

It's time for you to go against all you know. It's time to let go. Of. Everything.

Those summer days spent swimming. Hours in the water. Back and forth. Floating. Swimming. Diving. Deeper. And deeper. To the deepest darkest regions of all existence. And that is where you need to let go. Because deep calls unto deep (Ps. 42:7); you are called.

See, you can lose yourself on those days so easily. All it takes is bathing in the sun. Maybe falling asleep and waking up burnt more red than a lobster. You lose yourself in the freedom of sunlight scorching days. You lost yourself at land's end. Beneath the horizon and before the waves.

Do you hear it calling? In that moment before you shyly dip a toe in the unknown, do you feel the urge to just run? To run leaving all behind? not knowing what's ahead? not knowing up from down, but only that there is more to be found way out there where the waves foam at the crest and break?

Because out there is the wild. Mystery. Piquing your interest. You know, you just don't know, but that's the whole point; we're not meant to know what's to come. All we're meant to do is walk on. No matter where our steps take us. Even if those steps falter - by our own foolishness, folly, fallibility, our human nature that was weaned off all goodness and perfection left in the garden. Even if those steps stumble fall and fail, we are still meant to walk on.

Into waves. Into sunsetting horizons, purples pinks then nothing but stars. Into the deep way far from beach sands safety and all that's comfortably laid at our doorstep; God's way is not comfortable though we are given comfort along the way.

Tell me you've never wanted to jump from a bridge just to feel the freedom of flight. To know what the morning birds sing of. Then to feel the splash, whether it can be described worse than a car crash or sweeter than a Tootsie Pop or more refreshing than a glass of lemonade from some entrepreneur-kid's lemonade stand on the corner of Main and Wickendon.

Because this it not a suicidal thought; it is our being screaming clawing clinging to the fact that there is more to life than even spending storybook times with the girl who means the world to you sitting on the jetty and watching night break, all fade, as you are finally together after months spent oceans apart.

Tell me you've never desired there to be more to life. To one day look out your window and see the rain fall in slow motion. Where you can collect drop for drop stringing together chandeliers above your head. So after when you look up into silent stormy skies, all will be lit by reflections like the way the sun glitters when it hits Plymouth Bay in the evening.

Because then you would help orchestrate all the beauty of life. And then you would behold heaven on earth. And then you would see your God face to face.

So today is the day when you drop it all. When you stop trying to appease the masses.

Because it's not about how much you read your bible, or how long and eloquent your prayers sound, or even if you believe in God or not. It's about you finding the way. (And I pray it leads you to God. I pray it leads you to truth. To life. A life beautiful and good. And one that you marvel at when you try thinking on what's to come because the future is unseen.)

Let go of all you know. Even if for one second.

Because if you find yourself at land's end not comprehending anything, not knowing up from down and any other opposite, tell me then, do you truly feel alive?

So take a step. Let the waves crash like sun sets. And follow the path through the waters.

This is life.

Thought #23

2008-04-25T13:44:00.002-04:00

Your way was through the sea,
your path through the great waters;
yet your footprints were unseen.
-Psalm 77:19

Life.

Thought #22

2008-04-24T09:47:00.002-04:00

Please accept my blessing that is brought to you, beause God has dealt graciously with me, and because I have enough.
- Genesis 33: 11

Money. Gifts. Giving to others. Our culture does not seem like much of the giving type. Is it all selfishness? Are we looking out for ourselves? Or do we have others' backs? I don't know, but I tell you the truth, it is all about giving. Blessing others.

Why don't you go to the streets of Boston and look for who's in need. Or how about you don't even travel that far; go to your downtown and look for the needy. Because they're not hard to find. I'll go as far to say that all of us are needy in one way or another. Because you know, it's not only about giving the homeless a dime or two and it's not only about sponsering some less fortunate child overseas. No. It's about all the people in your life that you love. And it's simply love.

Jacob and Esau were brothers. "But Esau ran to meet him and embraced him and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept" (v.4). It's about family. It's about welcoming someone to be a part of your life. Community. Blessing others is just one of those things that brings people together no matter how far or close, or if she's a stranger or if she's family to you. Nothing matters except the giving.

"Please accept my blessing." This phrase says nothing of selfishness. But it screams of an urgency to bless someone. It begs the person "please." And the verse gives no reason for why Jacob brought it. But the fact is, he brought it to Esau. And he has liberty to give because God dealt graciously with him.

Oh, and just so you know, "God has dealt graciously," which means that He still will deal graciously. (Just a suggestion: don't skip over the little words when reading the bible because they clue you in on so many things.) In fact, God will deal graciously once we bless others. It's not really a give and take per se, even though it seems it might be. No where does Jacob give in order for God to give more in his own life. Rather, he simply gives: "Please accept my blessing that is brought to you." There is no other reason for giving presented in this verse.

So next time you are in Boston walking through Chinatown and you come across a beggar, then bless him with something. Hand him some change if he needs it. Maybe give him some cash. Or how about you ask him what he needs and then get it for him. I mean, the guy's need could be as simple as milk; so buy him a small carton of milk. We just don't know really until we ask. And we don't understand giving until we give.

What if next weekend you plan on visiting a grandparent in the nursing home? Just to spend time with someone who has watched you grow up and was there for you during much of your life. What if you were there for that person now?

Even more simply though, what if you chilled with a friend? More often than not she will need someone there, with her, just to know all is well in the world. Because even though she might not acknowledge a need, you're still being a friend, giving of yourself.

This whole giving and blessing thing is so easy. It's so much more simple than we make it out to be. Simple. And the opportunities abound for giving to another.

So stop thinking you need to be a millionaire in order to give the change in your pocket to the homeless man who accosted you. Then stop thinking of giving in monetary terms; that is very limiting especially limiting for how God can use you. And overall, stop thinking you can't give because you actually have enough, you just might not believe it.

It's time to be different: give.

Thought #21.1

2008-04-23T12:04:00.002-04:00

Now arise, go out from this land and return to the land of your kindred.

- Genesis 31: 13

But one thing, don't live in memories. Don't remain in the past. Always progress. Always walk one. This ending to verse 13 is a complete turnaround from the prior sentence. The focus of this passage changes immediately from lingering in reverie to entering the future. So God does give us reminders of who He is, who we know Him to be - connection - but with urgency the future is a step away.

You know, we take photographs and home videos and write in journals all to remember the past. But it's time to open the shades; it's day time, the sun's out. And it's time to put away the bottle of wine, turn off the VCR and box up the pictures. The memories will always be there, locked away in a place where no one can steal from you. For now, the day's calling.

I look out on the world from four stories up. Clear blue skies. Flowered trees. And daisy lawns. But my eyes can't see too far. I can see where land and sky meet along the close horizon. That's about it. But I know there is so much more out there. I know somewhere there are oceans and that somewhere there are stars, that somewhere my friends are going about their lives - somewhere the world is still spinning.

Exciting. Mysterious. So now it's time to wander. It's time to let all those memories fast forward, quickening, hastening, forcefully pushing me to tomorrow. Then those daily reminders of sunrise drifting to sunset preach a cycle of life. And it's one we should follow. Because we should change calendars. And we should live for tomorrow while remaining in today, "stuck in a moment you can't get out of" (U2).

Well it's time to find balance. It's time to test the waters. And this experimentation is what happens in your day-to-day. Because there are no dead stops; you are in constant motion.

There is a certain balance afforded to the idea of memories and progression. Verse 13 is split in two sentences. One deals with our reminders whether they come by ontological form or our own developed photographs of past occurrences; then the other sentence deals with moving on, walking home where ever that home may be.

You see, we are not meant to linger; we are meant to use the past in catapulting us forward.

Progress. Rewind. Go.

Thought #21

2008-04-22T10:00:00.004-04:00

I am the God of Bethel, where you anointed a pillar and made a vow to me.

- Genesis 31: 13

Sometimes we just need reminders. Maybe that's why there's a sunrise every morning. Maybe that's why there are those moments when everything lines up perfectly bringing you back in time to a place where all was well. Childhood memories. Nostalgia.

But maybe, really, we simply need to be reminded of who God is, of our connection with Him. This will bring us back to times and places when, no doubt, God was moving in our life. It will bring us back to a certain sense of security, of assurance that this Almighty Being who created the heavens and the earth actually exists intimately with us.

Most of the time there is way too much to try comprehending the Christian faith all at once. That's when we need these reminders. So then we know that God is here, with us. You know other times, life is set in the digs. Somehow, one moment, everything is perfect. I mean, gas is under three bucks, that latte from Starbucks actually wasn't burnt - crazy phenomena, I know - and check this, Banana Republic is having a sale and a graphic tee, for once, is priced under $20. Then all goes to hell per se.

And you know, those times spent in the slums call for reminders. Well, they don't even call; it's more that in order to survive those reminders are key.

Remember. Connect. Nostalgia.

Thought #20

2008-04-21T11:30:00.006-04:00

And Jesus answered them, "See that no one leads you astray."

- Matthew 24: 4

I think the rains are coming. At least the leaves are back on their branches. Purples. Red. Yellows as bright as the day they left. And a sky full of grey hazy blues - to think, sad songs could look so sweet.

All the norms of the day occur in their timely fashion. I hope you don't get bored with the days. I hope you don't always deal with the "same old, same old." I hope you know that each day is different from the last. And, most of all, I hope you know you play a part in this whole daily life scheme, that it's not all routine, that this life is so much more than sun-shiny days and finding four-leaf clovers.

You see, we have this It's a Wonderful Life perspective and life is such, but probably not in the way you actually expect it to be. Just because you wished on a star doesn't mean it will come true. We somehow forget that sometimes life takes work. Well, how about we say we are ignorant to the fact that most of this takes work.

Anyone remember having to rake the yard of a cluttered Fall? Well I do. I was a kid. All I wanted to do on a Saturday was watch cartoons in the morning, have a kick around and run wildly until everything went dark. No raking. No chores. No work. Nonetheless, I'd be out there holding a rake that would tower over me if I stood it straight up. I'd drag it all the way across the yard to make one massive pile. I was always determined to make fun out of this work somehow. So I tore up the grass and brought all vegetation together. What seemed like years later and finally I finished. Done. Nothing more except to jump in the pile. Yes. Sweetness.

So yeah, life takes work, but there is a certain enjoyment allotted to it, if only we saw how to line everything up correctly. I mean, wouldn't that be wonderful if we woke up every morning with this set plan in our heads about what will happen? A predetermined adventure we dreamt up the night before. And it would take us on unforgettable trips.

Jesus said we need to work. That we can't let people lead us astray. That translates into us having to do work. We have to prepare ourselves.

I could tell you that you should be reading the Bible everyday. Then that you should be locking yourself away in your closet and praying for more than five minutes - tortuous, I know. And that you should be trying to dwell on this whole God thing during every part of the day.

But that would be futile.

Don't do that. Be with God how you want to be with God. If that means you're just chillin' with the Big Man as you drive to the beach, or if that means you walk along, shoot up a prayer and just smile; then do it. Live the life God gave you. And live it with God, constantly, in any way that you feel appropriate.

Be with God. Know God. And know where you stand with Him.

Simple.

Thought #19

2008-04-20T12:26:00.005-04:00

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.

- Matthew 22: 37

The day goes on by itself. Cars speed through intersections. It is one of those days where if you stare out windows you can catch the sun. Like the light is some tangible object within the vicinity of your reach.

"With all your heart." And like the light you caught, how much more impossible is this? Not even speaking of impossibility, but merely the unlikelihood of such an action. I mean, how can we actually control our heart? Leave aside the whole life sustaining organ, and check this: "all." (Okay, so confusion has just taken over.)

So I don't know for sure of how to do this, but here is what I do know:

1) I know that I wake up every morning to enter a world that should overwhelm me to the point of psychiatric hospitalization; it doesn't.

2) Then I walk into the essence of catharsis feeling everything from stress to joy, from ecstasy with the highway wind invading my Neon to visions of the end of the world because I am so busy but feel stagnant not accomplishing anything; 24/7, in the whole of life I am rescued, re-focused and fearing God via wonder and awe.

3) I know I am called to love, but I don't understand how. Though, as the day goes on I am showed.

4) I know love, but can't explain it to you -

Because it all seems like I am trying to catch the light in the palm of my hands. But the only luck I have is at night when the fire flies come out and I am put to the chase trying to capture one before it burns out. This is how it is with loving God. It's simply a chase trying to catch what most people say you will be unsuccessful at. And then when day comes, you will realize you already have it since morning light peers through your window shades.

This loving God with our whole heart is a constant journey. The thing about it is that we search for this love to show God, but we already have it. And it's because He gave it to us already.

So, if you stare out the window and catch the light, know that this is love. And know that it is yours to give right back - cycle.

Simple. Beautiful. Real.

Thought #18

2008-04-19T12:03:00.004-04:00

Yet God my King is from of old,

working salvation in the midst of the

earth.

- Psalm 74: 12

I walked through gardens cluttered with stones. Those stones carved with names and with dates like memorials for all the lost, gone with the past. I walked on top of hills till I could see the coast, see how the waves met the sky - combined. I stood on messy paths with Autumn droppings not even the wind could sweep away. Looking. Looking as far as I could, wondering if trees ever get bored, but then again, nothing is ever the same.

From day to day sun spots never keep old shadows. Burnt wrinkled rustic leaves are trampled and broken and strewn in different ways. Then the winds never take the same paths. The sky never holds the same hues. And though gravestones ask for remembrance, the memories are constantly set in new frames like viewing the world through kaleidoscopes watching the beads squares - all the shapes - fall, form, coming together in new ways.

Still.

This sense of awe came over me - smile; the only reaction I took with my eyes squinting in the sun. A warmth radiating down covering me. The wind gently nibbled at my sandaled feet. But I could think of nothing; I could do not a thing. Awestruck in complete wonder of the state of creation.

Still.

Why move? Why take myself from this moment when deep calls to deep? When the only words spoken are that of visual language where the divide between truth and reality is blurred becoming as one. When nothing else matters except standing on Burial Hill and knowing the fullness of life.

Because when in life you are moved to remain still, silent and taking it all in, you better breathe slow and pan your sight along the horizon.

Still there is more. It would be limiting to say this is all God has for you, that the day can't possibly get better. Because He is always working. Because His work is accomplished in front of you, behind you - surrounding. His work is you.

Don't you get it? Don't you get that these sights, these experiences, this life isn't all He has for you. That you're in process. That life is but a flash like going to the beach, picking up a clump of sand, holding your hand out, then letting it all drop, all go careening back to where it came from.

But wait.

Breathe.

(slow)

And take one breath for another. Go from sight to sight. Stay and linger. Because there is much more for you than this and God is working it all out.

I turned from all there was. Smiled and didn't understand how I still knew to walk. I went step for step - awestruck.

You don't have to entirely understand any of how the day comes together like the waves and the sky combining. But understand that God is working salvation in the midst of the earth.

Remain. Observe. Experience.