Like many posts, it's hard to put this in my own words. In fact, this very song was also my resolution for last year. I'll just add a few songs on the front, wrap it up with new paper, and put this baby back under the tree, then.
(links are to the lyrics. see, I made it easy!)
"The Consumer's Song" by Anti-Flag
"Typical" by Mute Math
"Revolution" by Authority Zero
"Ready and Waiting to Fall" by Mae
Every New Day by Five Iron Frenzy
When I was young,
the furthest streak of light would catch my eye;
and life was new and every new day,
I thought that I could fly.
I believed in what I hoped for--
and I hoped in things unseen.
I had wings and dreams, could soar.
I just don't feel like flying anymore.
When the stars threw down their spears,
watered heaven with their tears,
before words were spoken; before eternity.
Dear Father, I need you.
Your strength my heart to mend.
I want to fly higher,
every new day again.
When I was young,
the furthest I could reach was not so high;
and I thought the world was so much smaller,
feeling I could fly.
Through distant deeps and skies,
beyond infinity, below the face of heaven,
he stoops to create me.
Man versus himself, man versus machine, man versus the world, mankind versus me. The sun must go on, the wisdom I lack, the burdens keep piling up on my back. So hard to breathe, to take the next step-- the mountain is high, I wait in the depths. Yearning for grace and hoping for peace, dear God, increase.
Healing hands of God, have mercy on our unclean hearts once again.
Jesus Christ, light of the world, burning bright within our hearts forever.
Freedom means love without condition, without beginning or an end.
Here's my heart, let it be forever yours-- only you can make every new day seem so new.
30.12.08
26.12.08
Thank God
He has been so good.
The fact that I cannot sleep tells me that I have some unresolved issues... or it may simply be the fact that I cannot sleep. I'm not worried about it.There are some things I need to say; and they're not resolutions. I'll save those for New Year, after my Spartans trounce the Georgia Bulldogs.
It's always been my policy to not itemize the little things for which I'm thankful. I don't know if this is just a preventative measure against brushfires in relationships, or if it's my INFP nature to zoom out and see the big picture behind the little things. But I'm grateful... I'm so grateful for everything that has happened this year. As David Steindl-Rast says, "When we learn to approach the world with gratefulness, everything seems to make sense." So, for the sake of thoroughness, I'll itemize as best I can:
- My old friends from home always put me in my place and force me to widen my perspective.
- My trip to the country of my own heritage was unforgettable, and demanding of a return visit.
- With new friends come new experiences... new ways to smile and learn.
- My comfort zone is sometimes cracked by a fifteen-mile lifeline... or just a well-timed hug from someone who's had their life changed.
- Core 20, you will always have a special place in my heart as my first group. You are all incredible people, and the worlds in which you live will be uniquely altered for good by your very presence in them.
- This summer was the best I've had since I can remember. From fleas to walking raves, nomcakes and assault rifles... well, it was surely not my doing.
- My family never lets me down in the fact that we always do what we want. The horizon has never been closer, and still, it is our only boundary.
- PAs, past and present, you've been the legion in which I've always taken pride marching. Even in assumed silence, your strength as a whole has carried me time and time again.
- Core 18, you more than surpassed my expectations. Already, your energy and life have shown me so much of God and myself: and for that, I can't say I'll ever be able to fully express how thankful I am. Let's make this second semester happen!
- Don, Caleb, and John... if we're discussing whether Kant was a Christian or what to put in our pancakes, or even both, we do so in the way people envy. I'm pretty lucky.
- This space is for my biochem lab group. Thanks for putting up with my baby food... I definitely would not have survived without you.
- Ryan, I don't know where you found that gorilla suit, but that was assuredly one of the best things ever.
- Carrie, I almost don't know what to say. After finally almost building up to say what I've wanted to say for months (Kerri, you need to be thanked here, too), you watched me actually run away... and it did not scare you away. You have a way of making me comfortable while keeping me in my place. The touch of your hand calms my soul, and your compassion is my envy. If english 490 does indeed kill you, I'm gonna be totally depressed, killer.
- The two great men that have gone from this earth have taught me much. Papa had a huge influence on me, and his final days have changed the way I live forever. Randy showed me how impressively a man can seek after God in times of mourning and despair. Both saints, if you ask me. And nobody has.
- This dog... the one that forced her wet nose under my hand while I was typing this... this dog is awesome. I am honestly thankful for Cassie.
Come, now, what may. The present is heaven on earth for me; my desire is simply to bring paradise to the rest of you. Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year. Peace.
The fact that I cannot sleep tells me that I have some unresolved issues... or it may simply be the fact that I cannot sleep. I'm not worried about it.There are some things I need to say; and they're not resolutions. I'll save those for New Year, after my Spartans trounce the Georgia Bulldogs.
It's always been my policy to not itemize the little things for which I'm thankful. I don't know if this is just a preventative measure against brushfires in relationships, or if it's my INFP nature to zoom out and see the big picture behind the little things. But I'm grateful... I'm so grateful for everything that has happened this year. As David Steindl-Rast says, "When we learn to approach the world with gratefulness, everything seems to make sense." So, for the sake of thoroughness, I'll itemize as best I can:
- My old friends from home always put me in my place and force me to widen my perspective.
- My trip to the country of my own heritage was unforgettable, and demanding of a return visit.
- With new friends come new experiences... new ways to smile and learn.
- My comfort zone is sometimes cracked by a fifteen-mile lifeline... or just a well-timed hug from someone who's had their life changed.
- Core 20, you will always have a special place in my heart as my first group. You are all incredible people, and the worlds in which you live will be uniquely altered for good by your very presence in them.
- This summer was the best I've had since I can remember. From fleas to walking raves, nomcakes and assault rifles... well, it was surely not my doing.
- My family never lets me down in the fact that we always do what we want. The horizon has never been closer, and still, it is our only boundary.
- PAs, past and present, you've been the legion in which I've always taken pride marching. Even in assumed silence, your strength as a whole has carried me time and time again.
- Core 18, you more than surpassed my expectations. Already, your energy and life have shown me so much of God and myself: and for that, I can't say I'll ever be able to fully express how thankful I am. Let's make this second semester happen!
- Don, Caleb, and John... if we're discussing whether Kant was a Christian or what to put in our pancakes, or even both, we do so in the way people envy. I'm pretty lucky.
- This space is for my biochem lab group. Thanks for putting up with my baby food... I definitely would not have survived without you.
- Ryan, I don't know where you found that gorilla suit, but that was assuredly one of the best things ever.
- Carrie, I almost don't know what to say. After finally almost building up to say what I've wanted to say for months (Kerri, you need to be thanked here, too), you watched me actually run away... and it did not scare you away. You have a way of making me comfortable while keeping me in my place. The touch of your hand calms my soul, and your compassion is my envy. If english 490 does indeed kill you, I'm gonna be totally depressed, killer.
- The two great men that have gone from this earth have taught me much. Papa had a huge influence on me, and his final days have changed the way I live forever. Randy showed me how impressively a man can seek after God in times of mourning and despair. Both saints, if you ask me. And nobody has.
- This dog... the one that forced her wet nose under my hand while I was typing this... this dog is awesome. I am honestly thankful for Cassie.
Come, now, what may. The present is heaven on earth for me; my desire is simply to bring paradise to the rest of you. Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year. Peace.
12.12.08
The Moon and the Star
The moon seems to be the lord of the sky at night. It certainly was tonight, as the star pointed out. She could hardly contain her excitement; and it was contagious. I was driving while her joy was gushing under my tires, and it was suddenly more difficult to stay on the road while sharing this moment. But later that night, when the star I had seen calmly faded into the rest of the sky, it was the shift of focus that had caught my attention.
The moon was the lord of the sky. I can respect that. The star had no trouble taking the attention off herself to point to something even better. "Is it not beautiful," she asked, "enough to wait, and ponder, and adore?" I felt no disappointment, no fear, no animosity. I felt only calmness. For the star had shown me that there was more to her light... and shown me the lord of the night sky. The microscope becomes a telescope after only widening the field of view and looking deeper into nature-- that is how I came to know the beauty and lordship of the moon.
And that moon is beautiful. The star is, indeed, dazzling and breath-taking as well, but it is the moon that makes completion. When I see it again, I will be sure to remember. I gave my word.
The moon was the lord of the sky. I can respect that. The star had no trouble taking the attention off herself to point to something even better. "Is it not beautiful," she asked, "enough to wait, and ponder, and adore?" I felt no disappointment, no fear, no animosity. I felt only calmness. For the star had shown me that there was more to her light... and shown me the lord of the night sky. The microscope becomes a telescope after only widening the field of view and looking deeper into nature-- that is how I came to know the beauty and lordship of the moon.
And that moon is beautiful. The star is, indeed, dazzling and breath-taking as well, but it is the moon that makes completion. When I see it again, I will be sure to remember. I gave my word.
9.12.08
When I try to say it
... only music comes out. Son of a gun.
1) "Whoo! Alright-Yeah... Uh Huh" > The Rapture
I used to think life's a bitter pill, but it's a grand ol' time
2) "Invincible" > OK Go
They won't be prepared for the thousand-Fahrenheit-hot metal lights behind your eyes
3) "Noticed" > Mute Math
When you look my way, something's pounding away; and I wonder if I ever felt this before
4) "Miracle" > Paramore
I've gone for too long living like I'm not alive-- so I'm gonna start over tonight
5) "Every New Day" > Five Iron Frenzy
Dear Father, I need you: your strength, my heart to mend. I want to fly higher every new day again!
1) "Whoo! Alright-Yeah... Uh Huh" > The Rapture
I used to think life's a bitter pill, but it's a grand ol' time
2) "Invincible" > OK Go
They won't be prepared for the thousand-Fahrenheit-hot metal lights behind your eyes
3) "Noticed" > Mute Math
When you look my way, something's pounding away; and I wonder if I ever felt this before
4) "Miracle" > Paramore
I've gone for too long living like I'm not alive-- so I'm gonna start over tonight
5) "Every New Day" > Five Iron Frenzy
Dear Father, I need you: your strength, my heart to mend. I want to fly higher every new day again!
7.12.08
A window, a star, and a ladder
It was more than hot in my room. I was sweating like mad, as I had been on and off for months. Maybe a piece of me hoped that winter would bring some relief, but it didn't. As I've been told, the snow only means it's warm. But, this was after I decided that I needed to open the window.
The window was big. It was heavy. It did a pretty good job of keeping things out of my room, and keeping things in. Like a thermos. But I was dying... I mean, I had to shut the window to warm the room up. I remember when I was freezing in there. Not good times, awful times-- and everyone who saw me in that room knew it. So, I closed the window. It was the best thing to do, for me. Now, what was I thinking now? Open it? Crazy. No way.
I told people about wanting to open the window. About the heat. I think I just needed to hear other people say that I needed to. After all, I couldn't see myself sweating... and I don't think anyone else did, either. One of my friends seemed as if they were to push me through the thick glass pane if I didn't open it myself. However, my friend did seem to be comforted by the fact that I was going to open the window, because the heat was obvious. Rats.
So, I opened it. And... I felt a little cooler. The trouble presented itself immediately: what should I do with just an open window? I knew what I wanted. But how? I went back to my desk. For hours, I tried to think of what I had missed. I opened it, didn't I?
What could I have missed?
I walked to the window, and I looked out. Strange, I thought-- I never noticed that star there. I mean to say, I never saw it. I knew it was there, because that's only reason why the room was so hot. Why, out of all the stars, then?
Have you ever looked at a night sky? I mean, really looked at it? Depending on where you're walking, there's a lot or not so many of these incredibly beautiful stars. But I always find myself searching for one that's particularly bright... one that seems to greet my eyes with its own individual light. And this is how I forget about the other stars.
When I went back to my window that night, I looked at my star. I stared at her. She stared back. She motioned to the ladder in the corner.
I picked up the ladder, set it in the window, and climbed up to her. When she'd finished laughing about how awkward I'd been climbing up, we noticed it was still snowing, and that it just meant that it was warm outside.
The window was big. It was heavy. It did a pretty good job of keeping things out of my room, and keeping things in. Like a thermos. But I was dying... I mean, I had to shut the window to warm the room up. I remember when I was freezing in there. Not good times, awful times-- and everyone who saw me in that room knew it. So, I closed the window. It was the best thing to do, for me. Now, what was I thinking now? Open it? Crazy. No way.
I told people about wanting to open the window. About the heat. I think I just needed to hear other people say that I needed to. After all, I couldn't see myself sweating... and I don't think anyone else did, either. One of my friends seemed as if they were to push me through the thick glass pane if I didn't open it myself. However, my friend did seem to be comforted by the fact that I was going to open the window, because the heat was obvious. Rats.
So, I opened it. And... I felt a little cooler. The trouble presented itself immediately: what should I do with just an open window? I knew what I wanted. But how? I went back to my desk. For hours, I tried to think of what I had missed. I opened it, didn't I?
What could I have missed?
I walked to the window, and I looked out. Strange, I thought-- I never noticed that star there. I mean to say, I never saw it. I knew it was there, because that's only reason why the room was so hot. Why, out of all the stars, then?
Have you ever looked at a night sky? I mean, really looked at it? Depending on where you're walking, there's a lot or not so many of these incredibly beautiful stars. But I always find myself searching for one that's particularly bright... one that seems to greet my eyes with its own individual light. And this is how I forget about the other stars.
When I went back to my window that night, I looked at my star. I stared at her. She stared back. She motioned to the ladder in the corner.
I picked up the ladder, set it in the window, and climbed up to her. When she'd finished laughing about how awkward I'd been climbing up, we noticed it was still snowing, and that it just meant that it was warm outside.
4.12.08
Christmas
Nothing makes me both more joyful and more cynical than the holiday celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ.
This year, people have lost lives in the name of commercialism.
Instead of a tragedy of extreme consumerism, it was an annoying inconvenience.
Some who have lost their sources of resources this year (something I can be even more cynical about) worry and struggle over the fact that they may not be able to have a "Merry Christmas" because of it.
Question. What happened to our awareness?
I don't mean to offer the truth of Christmas as a vaccination against the hard times that this economy will undoubtedly create.
I just want to question the truth of the new "Merry Christmas."
The appalling and apparent truth of the matter is that this has all gone too far!
But, as the late Irish philosopher George Berkeley reminds us:
"Truth is the cry of all, but the game of few."
What can redeem something so... irredeemably terrible?
I'm going to try to sidestep the cliché Jesus pigeonhole here, because I want to get the big picture.
So, I suppose the first question to ask is pretty simple: why did this happen?
Jesus is the Word of God, which we already had, right?
It really only means one thing.
This was an intervention.
We got this whole deal so mixed up that God Himself needed to step in and show us how to live... again.
He meant for everything to be fixed.
But He didn't mean to fix it Himself-- that's not how an intervention works.
No, I'm pretty sure that God meant to change the world through humanity.
If He didn't, then why bother with this whole... you know... "becoming human" business?
Peter became like Christ, as well as the rest of them (except for one, of course).
I cannot speak out against the deep gash of commercialism in the human body without revealing the ailments of my own soul.
Like an addict, like a criminal; He shows us that we can change with His help.
What was broken has been made like new with our willingness; but our own power was inadequate.
The gift of grace.
The power of mercy.
The joy of manifested love-- which was crying, sleeping, feeding, blinking, breathing, and laughing in a soft, glorified scarf one night-- I celebrate it.
Because I don't understand.
Still.
But I know for a fact that I can latch onto it with all the strength I have!
What am I, perfect?
I'm not perfect and it will still save me.
He will save me.
Now, that's what I call redemption.
This year, people have lost lives in the name of commercialism.
Instead of a tragedy of extreme consumerism, it was an annoying inconvenience.
Some who have lost their sources of resources this year (something I can be even more cynical about) worry and struggle over the fact that they may not be able to have a "Merry Christmas" because of it.
Question. What happened to our awareness?
I don't mean to offer the truth of Christmas as a vaccination against the hard times that this economy will undoubtedly create.
I just want to question the truth of the new "Merry Christmas."
The appalling and apparent truth of the matter is that this has all gone too far!
But, as the late Irish philosopher George Berkeley reminds us:
"Truth is the cry of all, but the game of few."
What can redeem something so... irredeemably terrible?
I'm going to try to sidestep the cliché Jesus pigeonhole here, because I want to get the big picture.
So, I suppose the first question to ask is pretty simple: why did this happen?
Jesus is the Word of God, which we already had, right?
It really only means one thing.
This was an intervention.
We got this whole deal so mixed up that God Himself needed to step in and show us how to live... again.
He meant for everything to be fixed.
But He didn't mean to fix it Himself-- that's not how an intervention works.
No, I'm pretty sure that God meant to change the world through humanity.
If He didn't, then why bother with this whole... you know... "becoming human" business?
Peter became like Christ, as well as the rest of them (except for one, of course).
I cannot speak out against the deep gash of commercialism in the human body without revealing the ailments of my own soul.
Like an addict, like a criminal; He shows us that we can change with His help.
What was broken has been made like new with our willingness; but our own power was inadequate.
The gift of grace.
The power of mercy.
The joy of manifested love-- which was crying, sleeping, feeding, blinking, breathing, and laughing in a soft, glorified scarf one night-- I celebrate it.
Because I don't understand.
Still.
But I know for a fact that I can latch onto it with all the strength I have!
What am I, perfect?
I'm not perfect and it will still save me.
He will save me.
Now, that's what I call redemption.
2.12.08
29.11.08
A restless goodness
The words you have spoken, whether yours or otherwise...
they have melted such a stone cold heart.
The hopes and dreams, such the ones I possess...
they have the strength to continue.
Oh, my restless feet, can they find all rest and solace...
in the speech of such grace and glory?
The Apostle was mistaken, the poison was subdued...
healing, merciful water is all that has flown out!
The void and space between, the distance from me to the surface...
I can feel the gap closing.
And it was good.
they have melted such a stone cold heart.
The hopes and dreams, such the ones I possess...
they have the strength to continue.
Oh, my restless feet, can they find all rest and solace...
in the speech of such grace and glory?
The Apostle was mistaken, the poison was subdued...
healing, merciful water is all that has flown out!
The void and space between, the distance from me to the surface...
I can feel the gap closing.
And it was good.
23.11.08
... but it's okay (a lesson in grace)
I put off my tedious article summary of how tuberculosis avoids our immune systems to blog...
I choose to lead my core group in being active participants in the world around them, and maybe to do something for someone else for a change (not saying they don't anyway), instead of sit in that chair with my name on it and rest after a tough week...
Necessity takes a back seat to video game rivalries and discussions about the nutritional value of iceberg lettuce...
Everywhere I go, I'm really cold...
No matter how much I sleep, I never fail to wake up exhausted...
Sparks flash and scald the parts of my heart that have been cold for such a long, long time...
Sometimes, I feel empty...
My Father seemingly flashes in and out of my life...
... because I know that we're always together, anyway.
... because I'm comforted by my status as a new wineskin.
... because my mom tells me that I'm no good to anyone cold.
... because it's always passion that wakes me up.
... because I won't always have the snow.
... because I won't remember anything in this life as well.
... because there's more than one kind of comfort.
... because I'll need to look back later...
... to see how this promise of [grace] is fulfilled.
I choose to lead my core group in being active participants in the world around them, and maybe to do something for someone else for a change (not saying they don't anyway), instead of sit in that chair with my name on it and rest after a tough week...
Necessity takes a back seat to video game rivalries and discussions about the nutritional value of iceberg lettuce...
Everywhere I go, I'm really cold...
No matter how much I sleep, I never fail to wake up exhausted...
Sparks flash and scald the parts of my heart that have been cold for such a long, long time...
Sometimes, I feel empty...
My Father seemingly flashes in and out of my life...
... because I know that we're always together, anyway.
... because I'm comforted by my status as a new wineskin.
... because my mom tells me that I'm no good to anyone cold.
... because it's always passion that wakes me up.
... because I won't always have the snow.
... because I won't remember anything in this life as well.
... because there's more than one kind of comfort.
... because I'll need to look back later...
... to see how this promise of [grace] is fulfilled.
18.11.08
Defense
You thought I was serious?
You thought I actually wanted that?
Who knows where you've been... taking dreams and sucking the lives out of regular people. But if you gave me a pencil, I couldn't make a diagram. Not of your menace.
So, I'm just saying that I don't want any part of it.
NONE.
YOU! I can't believe your nerve. Who just takes breath for fun, for the heck of it? They don't deserve your fists, they deserve for you to look away! Your eyes cause tremors, and your glances drive people into comas. I would pluck them out if I could reach you, you sick coward.
I can't even describe the horrible spite in my soul that I have for you!
Yet you are the water, and I'm stranded on the ice. No matter how I beg, no matter how loud my prayers-- you'll be there. Slowly, surely making your way down the interstate, waiting for just the right exit. After all, the road was named after you when it was built in the first place.
The funny thing is that they taught me to build roadblocks, but I don't bother with them.
You know why? God helps those who help themselves. You said it yourself.
Try it again.
I dare you-- nay, I will bury you.
You thought I actually wanted that?
Who knows where you've been... taking dreams and sucking the lives out of regular people. But if you gave me a pencil, I couldn't make a diagram. Not of your menace.
So, I'm just saying that I don't want any part of it.
NONE.
YOU! I can't believe your nerve. Who just takes breath for fun, for the heck of it? They don't deserve your fists, they deserve for you to look away! Your eyes cause tremors, and your glances drive people into comas. I would pluck them out if I could reach you, you sick coward.
I can't even describe the horrible spite in my soul that I have for you!
Yet you are the water, and I'm stranded on the ice. No matter how I beg, no matter how loud my prayers-- you'll be there. Slowly, surely making your way down the interstate, waiting for just the right exit. After all, the road was named after you when it was built in the first place.
The funny thing is that they taught me to build roadblocks, but I don't bother with them.
You know why? God helps those who help themselves. You said it yourself.
Try it again.
I dare you-- nay, I will bury you.
16.11.08
A plea
My mother told me that I was born with my eyes wide open. Time was never wasted with needless crying. I was looking for you, even when I didn't know you. Call it a hunch.
But there was no curtain. No masquerade, no hoops... no prerequisites. There were no guards at the door, with which you could search me for the weapons I wielded against you. You probably can't describe the pain, especially when I didn't apologize. Maybe you wasted time crying.
Look at how you have entranced me! Look at how you have deliberately guided me into your mystery: and not against my will! Escape plans are as good as tinder now. Just more fuel to feed the flames-- the flames that I, Prometheus, claimed.
Was it just? Maybe. You say no; my sources disagree. When the piece is finished, when the world is on fire with what I have brought them... I pray it doesn't take me that long. My eyes are open again, and I don't waste time with crying.
Stop my heart if this necktie ever gets comfortable.
Sing as you always have when my eyes search.
Fall upon my head from the sky when I forget your quiet majesty.
Burn my rationale when I hold back.
Be the only door-kicking boots I'll ever wear.
Fill my mind with your mercy-- my heart with your promises.
Rip the roof off my hut.
Hold me while I drown.
Remind me of your love as I stand in the gallows.
Be all I see when I finally close my eyes.
Call it a hunch.
But there was no curtain. No masquerade, no hoops... no prerequisites. There were no guards at the door, with which you could search me for the weapons I wielded against you. You probably can't describe the pain, especially when I didn't apologize. Maybe you wasted time crying.
Look at how you have entranced me! Look at how you have deliberately guided me into your mystery: and not against my will! Escape plans are as good as tinder now. Just more fuel to feed the flames-- the flames that I, Prometheus, claimed.
Was it just? Maybe. You say no; my sources disagree. When the piece is finished, when the world is on fire with what I have brought them... I pray it doesn't take me that long. My eyes are open again, and I don't waste time with crying.
Stop my heart if this necktie ever gets comfortable.
Sing as you always have when my eyes search.
Fall upon my head from the sky when I forget your quiet majesty.
Burn my rationale when I hold back.
Be the only door-kicking boots I'll ever wear.
Fill my mind with your mercy-- my heart with your promises.
Rip the roof off my hut.
Hold me while I drown.
Remind me of your love as I stand in the gallows.
Be all I see when I finally close my eyes.
Call it a hunch.
6.11.08
The Sword
Offense shocks me from my slumber,
as electric arcs stab my fingertips.
Caustic passion wells up in my soul,
and pours out through embittered fists.
I wonder how my message is so quiet.
The love spews from my mouth
as the penetrating, ear-splitting cry
of my enemy’s blood flows down.
Can you see through this tightened iris?
...and now? Oh, the boiler—burning in kind
behind my terrible, white-hot eyes.
Beloved black smoke clouds my mind.
My heart pounds like a war drum.
My lust is the fight: is it true what he said?
He was betrayed. “It will be your grave.”
Mercy is not my name; I would rather be dead.
November 6, 2008
as electric arcs stab my fingertips.
Caustic passion wells up in my soul,
and pours out through embittered fists.
I wonder how my message is so quiet.
The love spews from my mouth
as the penetrating, ear-splitting cry
of my enemy’s blood flows down.
Can you see through this tightened iris?
...and now? Oh, the boiler—burning in kind
behind my terrible, white-hot eyes.
Beloved black smoke clouds my mind.
My heart pounds like a war drum.
My lust is the fight: is it true what he said?
He was betrayed. “It will be your grave.”
Mercy is not my name; I would rather be dead.
November 6, 2008
4.11.08
Failure is not fatal
Wind passes right through my skin as I fall down
this furious speed will only destroy me
Crippling and devastating momentum
approaching maximum velocity
And this is how it's going to be
the point of it all
'Cause this is what was meant for me
recklessly I fall
Hulking, smashing, I come crashing
nothing like when I was small
I am unstoppable
I am the cannonball
Thirty-two feet per second I increase
as the exponents will multiply
I'll never stop to look back behind me
cutting through the bright blue sky
And this is how it's meant to be
untethered I will soar
I'll barrel towards the earth below
it's what I was made for
Hulking, smashing, I come crashing
nothing like when I was small
I am unstoppable
I am the cannonball
That feeble coward that you knew
has undergone an overhaul
I am unstoppable
I am the cannonball
And everyone will say it's just an accident
like some mishap or a tragedy
I think that failure has a purpose
and I don't believe it's chance if I fall
And I know that if I ever do fall
he will catch me
And if he ever lets me fall down
for the good of those who believe him
He will make me into a cannonball
Unblemished, and faultless
A burning luminescence
Unequaled precision
Beyond your scope of vision
("Cannonball" by Five Iron Frenzy)
this furious speed will only destroy me
Crippling and devastating momentum
approaching maximum velocity
And this is how it's going to be
the point of it all
'Cause this is what was meant for me
recklessly I fall
Hulking, smashing, I come crashing
nothing like when I was small
I am unstoppable
I am the cannonball
Thirty-two feet per second I increase
as the exponents will multiply
I'll never stop to look back behind me
cutting through the bright blue sky
And this is how it's meant to be
untethered I will soar
I'll barrel towards the earth below
it's what I was made for
Hulking, smashing, I come crashing
nothing like when I was small
I am unstoppable
I am the cannonball
That feeble coward that you knew
has undergone an overhaul
I am unstoppable
I am the cannonball
And everyone will say it's just an accident
like some mishap or a tragedy
I think that failure has a purpose
and I don't believe it's chance if I fall
And I know that if I ever do fall
he will catch me
And if he ever lets me fall down
for the good of those who believe him
He will make me into a cannonball
Unblemished, and faultless
A burning luminescence
Unequaled precision
Beyond your scope of vision
("Cannonball" by Five Iron Frenzy)
27.10.08
Facebook strikes again
This would be the second time that Facebook has taken down one of my videos, without prior warning or permission, due to an anonymous (to me) copyright claim.
Let me catch you up. A while back, I made a video. It consisted of video and pictures that I took on my camera during a week's worth of nature's goodness in Montana. Every single picture and every single second of video was shot with my own hands. The only thing in the video that did not belong to me was the background music, and I gave it just acknowledgment.
Now, that's the only reason I can see why they would do this. As far as I know, it's not against the law to use background music for a video. Even then-- I'm not intentionally attempting to damage the reputation or earnings of Boston, Newsboys, Switchfoot, Fastball, or Fatboy Slim with my video. All things considered, I'd say that even with my totally destructive video, they're doing "more than fine."
So, why? Why, Facebook? Am I such a terrible citizen that you deemed it necessary to devalue my hard work to criminal shame, without any semblance of a warning at all?
I filed a counter notice. We'll see where it goes.
Let me catch you up. A while back, I made a video. It consisted of video and pictures that I took on my camera during a week's worth of nature's goodness in Montana. Every single picture and every single second of video was shot with my own hands. The only thing in the video that did not belong to me was the background music, and I gave it just acknowledgment.
Now, that's the only reason I can see why they would do this. As far as I know, it's not against the law to use background music for a video. Even then-- I'm not intentionally attempting to damage the reputation or earnings of Boston, Newsboys, Switchfoot, Fastball, or Fatboy Slim with my video. All things considered, I'd say that even with my totally destructive video, they're doing "more than fine."
So, why? Why, Facebook? Am I such a terrible citizen that you deemed it necessary to devalue my hard work to criminal shame, without any semblance of a warning at all?
I filed a counter notice. We'll see where it goes.
23.10.08
Wasted votes
"No, seriously, who are you voting for?"
I'm not sure if anyone takes me seriously the first time I tell them that I'm voting for Ralph Nader. He's actually my favorite candidate, and if you find that hard to believe, then maybe you should detach that corporate media slurry hose from your mouth every once and a while. Look at what the man stands for... and look at what I stand for. If you don't think I would drop what I'm doing to take part in one of his causes, then we should chat sometime. You know, one on one.
I think he's very Christ-like. He cares about people, and he's never been paid to say it. In fact, all of the money he receives is guided by his own hands back to the people. I love that. He doesn't care that people don't think he's going to win. He sees the need to change the American political system back to the way it should be-- as it was laid out in the Constitution-- and he believes the only way to do this is from the inside. It's unfortunate that he'll never be on the inside, however, and this is probably why he'll never be elected. So, all you political noobs who want my vote in four years better start taking notes, because Nader resonates with people like me.
So, what is this talk about my vote being wasted?
Through the lens of a corporate-driven election, yes, it's wasted. I'm not voting for the two scumbags they want us to vote for. It's very true that Barack Obama refusing to debate with both John McCain and Ralph Nader on two separate occasions was a pretty smart political move. Why take on two old farts, when the people are fine with you taking on only one? It makes sense; but you see, it doesn't score any points on the accredited "legitimizing-the-opinions-of-other-citizens" meter. Now, that's what I call reaching across the aisle. I'm sorry, that might have been a bit close to home... just to be fair, everyone knows that McCain has been in big oil's back pocket, confessed to voting with a real stinker of a president 90% of the time, voted in favor of the Bailout just because "something needed to be done", and pulled one of the most monumentally shameless pandering ploys available for recollection from my own memory by picking Palin as a running mate. Seriously, what a tool.
Coming back to this ridiculous election, it's becoming every day more similar to a bad youth Christmas pageant-- the kind where Joseph and Mary are the star of the show, and you're just the unfamiliar kid in the corner dressed like a sheep, and I'll let you guess which one of these weiners is Mary. It's awful to watch people try to be active in the political process, only to be led by the nose to only two of the six legitimate candidates. So, on the grand scale of things, I suppose my vote is twistedly for McCain... somehow.
But it got me thinking, that's for sure.
Over and over, I've made fun of single-issue voters. Primarily, Christian single-issue voters are about abortion and gay rights (or wrongs, rather). Now, I'm being persecuted, because I don't stand on either side of the political fence. One side wants me to vote in line with my Biblical values (which I've read, and buddy, "pre-emptive strike" and "regime change" are not the same as "love your enemy"); yet the other argues that my vote draws from their pool of votes out to the radical (which is a viewpoint that hasn't even been legitimized by your actions in any way-- thanks to your shrewd politics, you've alienated a powerful group).
It makes me think that people shouldn't be persecuted by how they vote. It's their vote, after all.
Vote for McCain. Vote for Obama. Nader, Barr, McKinney, Baldwin... maybe just the candidate that promises to do what you want them to do-- it doesn't matter to me. Just vote, and I promise not to make fun of you.
Wasted votes. You've got to be kidding.
I'm not sure if anyone takes me seriously the first time I tell them that I'm voting for Ralph Nader. He's actually my favorite candidate, and if you find that hard to believe, then maybe you should detach that corporate media slurry hose from your mouth every once and a while. Look at what the man stands for... and look at what I stand for. If you don't think I would drop what I'm doing to take part in one of his causes, then we should chat sometime. You know, one on one.
I think he's very Christ-like. He cares about people, and he's never been paid to say it. In fact, all of the money he receives is guided by his own hands back to the people. I love that. He doesn't care that people don't think he's going to win. He sees the need to change the American political system back to the way it should be-- as it was laid out in the Constitution-- and he believes the only way to do this is from the inside. It's unfortunate that he'll never be on the inside, however, and this is probably why he'll never be elected. So, all you political noobs who want my vote in four years better start taking notes, because Nader resonates with people like me.
So, what is this talk about my vote being wasted?
Through the lens of a corporate-driven election, yes, it's wasted. I'm not voting for the two scumbags they want us to vote for. It's very true that Barack Obama refusing to debate with both John McCain and Ralph Nader on two separate occasions was a pretty smart political move. Why take on two old farts, when the people are fine with you taking on only one? It makes sense; but you see, it doesn't score any points on the accredited "legitimizing-the-opinions-of-other-citizens" meter. Now, that's what I call reaching across the aisle. I'm sorry, that might have been a bit close to home... just to be fair, everyone knows that McCain has been in big oil's back pocket, confessed to voting with a real stinker of a president 90% of the time, voted in favor of the Bailout just because "something needed to be done", and pulled one of the most monumentally shameless pandering ploys available for recollection from my own memory by picking Palin as a running mate. Seriously, what a tool.
Coming back to this ridiculous election, it's becoming every day more similar to a bad youth Christmas pageant-- the kind where Joseph and Mary are the star of the show, and you're just the unfamiliar kid in the corner dressed like a sheep, and I'll let you guess which one of these weiners is Mary. It's awful to watch people try to be active in the political process, only to be led by the nose to only two of the six legitimate candidates. So, on the grand scale of things, I suppose my vote is twistedly for McCain... somehow.
But it got me thinking, that's for sure.
Over and over, I've made fun of single-issue voters. Primarily, Christian single-issue voters are about abortion and gay rights (or wrongs, rather). Now, I'm being persecuted, because I don't stand on either side of the political fence. One side wants me to vote in line with my Biblical values (which I've read, and buddy, "pre-emptive strike" and "regime change" are not the same as "love your enemy"); yet the other argues that my vote draws from their pool of votes out to the radical (which is a viewpoint that hasn't even been legitimized by your actions in any way-- thanks to your shrewd politics, you've alienated a powerful group).
It makes me think that people shouldn't be persecuted by how they vote. It's their vote, after all.
Vote for McCain. Vote for Obama. Nader, Barr, McKinney, Baldwin... maybe just the candidate that promises to do what you want them to do-- it doesn't matter to me. Just vote, and I promise not to make fun of you.
Wasted votes. You've got to be kidding.
21.10.08
James' top 10 of relevance
This is how you copy your friends. Also, to blog when I really don't know what to say... and the music I hear says it all so well.
1) "Weighed Down" > Jars of Clay
(As we deny that love is still the king / not as weak as we make him out to be / love lies here waiting all alone / can a king be a king weighed down?)
2) "Showdown" > Pendulum
(But it's simple, you were wrong / you must have known that we did not belong / I know you thought I sold my soul / but you never told me to my face / I just had to let you go)
3) "The Spy Hunter" > Project 86
(Pawns standing in awe / of the game, of the stage / you worked so hard at building an empire / of secret rooms to display to yourself / and add to your wealth / and the sting of, oh, it stings / when I saw it all come crashing / I witnessed the sound of a million voices / screaming for a public hanging)
4) "Countin' Down the Days" > PAX217
(Now I'm waiting for the day, the day to come / when I, when I will be with you / I know where you went / I know where you are / I know who you're with 'cause your just like Him / I'm gonna see you in a little while)
5) "You're On Fire" > MxPx
(Now that you're on fire, you're voice is like the wind / now that you're on fire, let life begin again / now that you're on fire, a new day has begun / now that you're on fire, you are like the sun / more than anything I'd like to see / better brighter days for you, for you and me)
6) "This Is The Countdown" > Mae
(you tread to stay above the waterline / but never taking off the weights that / keep us stuck here / in the comfort, in the fear / I’ll never know what we were fighting for /but I’m still looking to break out)
7) "Farsighted" > Five Iron Frenzy
(to all the farsighted, the skies never looked so clear / hello to the hopeful, goodbye to the full of fear / glorious, luminous / the heavens have painted, have brushed you with angel wings / and you know in your heart / that the farsighted see better things)
8) "The Nothing" > Equalibrum (misspell intended)
(lurking in shadows and creeping in darkness / is a will to commit an unspeakable harm / so this is the pick of a beat of heart / that women and children are easily marked / completes every deed and as vicious imparts / it's here and it's keen and it's visibly sharp / appearing in flesh in its various forms / shadows the earth as it hovers and swarms / feeding on anything breathing and warm... / when you open your door, it's already inside)
9) "Permanent Holiday" > Suicide Machines
(just to today, I was forced to say / I'm going on a permanent holiday / I'll drop what I'm doing, it's okay / I'm going on a permanent holiday / left a note saying I'll be gone for a long time)
10) "15" > Surrogate
(so forget about the money / and forget about yourself / and forget about the calculated risk / it never ends well)
There it is. I would suggest these songs to anyone; their rockitude is unmatched.
1) "Weighed Down" > Jars of Clay
(As we deny that love is still the king / not as weak as we make him out to be / love lies here waiting all alone / can a king be a king weighed down?)
2) "Showdown" > Pendulum
(But it's simple, you were wrong / you must have known that we did not belong / I know you thought I sold my soul / but you never told me to my face / I just had to let you go)
3) "The Spy Hunter" > Project 86
(Pawns standing in awe / of the game, of the stage / you worked so hard at building an empire / of secret rooms to display to yourself / and add to your wealth / and the sting of, oh, it stings / when I saw it all come crashing / I witnessed the sound of a million voices / screaming for a public hanging)
4) "Countin' Down the Days" > PAX217
(Now I'm waiting for the day, the day to come / when I, when I will be with you / I know where you went / I know where you are / I know who you're with 'cause your just like Him / I'm gonna see you in a little while)
5) "You're On Fire" > MxPx
(Now that you're on fire, you're voice is like the wind / now that you're on fire, let life begin again / now that you're on fire, a new day has begun / now that you're on fire, you are like the sun / more than anything I'd like to see / better brighter days for you, for you and me)
6) "This Is The Countdown" > Mae
(you tread to stay above the waterline / but never taking off the weights that / keep us stuck here / in the comfort, in the fear / I’ll never know what we were fighting for /but I’m still looking to break out)
7) "Farsighted" > Five Iron Frenzy
(to all the farsighted, the skies never looked so clear / hello to the hopeful, goodbye to the full of fear / glorious, luminous / the heavens have painted, have brushed you with angel wings / and you know in your heart / that the farsighted see better things)
8) "The Nothing" > Equalibrum (misspell intended)
(lurking in shadows and creeping in darkness / is a will to commit an unspeakable harm / so this is the pick of a beat of heart / that women and children are easily marked / completes every deed and as vicious imparts / it's here and it's keen and it's visibly sharp / appearing in flesh in its various forms / shadows the earth as it hovers and swarms / feeding on anything breathing and warm... / when you open your door, it's already inside)
9) "Permanent Holiday" > Suicide Machines
(just to today, I was forced to say / I'm going on a permanent holiday / I'll drop what I'm doing, it's okay / I'm going on a permanent holiday / left a note saying I'll be gone for a long time)
10) "15" > Surrogate
(so forget about the money / and forget about yourself / and forget about the calculated risk / it never ends well)
There it is. I would suggest these songs to anyone; their rockitude is unmatched.
18.10.08
How to jump the gun properly
So- dreams the other night. The first one is a little creepy, and doesn't really tie in, but I thought I'd add it in anyway. This is my journal, and there's something about it that makes me want to ensure that I don't forget.
Dream #1: My friends (I forget the faces, exactly) and I are inside an old creepy house with lots of windows and two stories. It's the type of dream that isn't exactly in B & W, but not totally in color either. Sort of a grayscale/sepia tone going on there, with old looking furniture. Very unhappy clouds in the sky, but no rain. Stay with me, now. For some weird reason, a freaky little girl comes down out of the sky in a cyclone-type funnel and begins to walk toward the house. It's always a freaky little girl, right?
Anyway, she attempts to convince the rest of us that one of us has committed a blatant offense which must be punished by death.
Anyway, she attempts to convince the rest of us that one of us has committed a blatant offense which must be punished by death.Do we take the bait? No. We stab the ho.
Afterward, she reappears out of the sky and accuses another one of us of a different crime, and we take the liberty to sing her a different lullaby for her next dirtnap. Gun-- dead. Even blunt-freaking-broomhandle: vanquished. Every time we do this, the bodies continue to pile. It's no wonder I woke up and thought I was losing my mind. Jury's still out on this one.
Then, the dream that correctly corresponds with the title...
Dream #2: I come across the revelation that I can graduate this year. That's right, in Spring 2009, with the rest of my classmates. This is the one that woke me up for good-- the terror of seeing the ASP in a dream is truly formidable. But it made me think... could that be true?
When I checked the ASP, I got my answer. Myth "confirmed."
Thoughts poured down through my brain, and my cognition was awash with the possibility of graduating this year: $24,500 that would not even need mention, a headstart on my peers in the field, a launch into the life I'm pursuing, and a real chance to test by fire the solidity of my faith in an unbelieving world. Hold, please.
Would I even be ready?
"... but the Lord directs his steps..." Guys, I don't know about this one.
15.10.08
Stallion's song, reprise
Ice cream? You've got to be kidding. I wasn't there, but I swear I could see the insult shatter against Papa's stern countenance in the nursing home.
This stallion wrote his rules-- he knew that within the limits of God's pasture, the grass was greenest. The best part was the wind against his back. The only time he wore a saddle was when he became too weak to buck it off; even then, he still refused to be tamed. And here, in the nursing home, he was making ice cream with the other women. How did you think it was? Is the stifling chafe of this saddle supposed to be as worthy against the skin as the soft breath of freedom?
"It sucked."
Just let it come, he said. Even before he began to improve, he accepted the end. You can't live forever. If this is how it must be, then take me away. This was neither a plea to live, nor a plea to die.
It was only the simple submission that the life of a saint is never his in the first place.
[Rest in peace, Papa. Should the skies fall, my heart will never forget you.]
This stallion wrote his rules-- he knew that within the limits of God's pasture, the grass was greenest. The best part was the wind against his back. The only time he wore a saddle was when he became too weak to buck it off; even then, he still refused to be tamed. And here, in the nursing home, he was making ice cream with the other women. How did you think it was? Is the stifling chafe of this saddle supposed to be as worthy against the skin as the soft breath of freedom?
"It sucked."
Just let it come, he said. Even before he began to improve, he accepted the end. You can't live forever. If this is how it must be, then take me away. This was neither a plea to live, nor a plea to die.
It was only the simple submission that the life of a saint is never his in the first place.
[Rest in peace, Papa. Should the skies fall, my heart will never forget you.]
8.10.08
Victory and/or death
You know, I can't believe it's finally here. We leave for Cedar Bend tomorrow. I hope to G-d that this semester will be as memorable as it has been fast.
Anxiety and excitement spark back and forth in my brain in equal amounts. Of course I don't know what will happen-- that's part of the experience. How much could I control... what levers are in my reach to tweak? The usual situation, though, ends up showing me that my finger is too weak to push these kinds of buttons: they're meant for bigger hands.
Hallelujah. I will say again, hallelujah; for uncertainty is the yeast of our daily bread. For who can see the product of a baker's labor until after it is too late to turn back? In the same way, I lead my group as we test this depth with both feet. It will be dreadfully uncomfortable, and we might not emerge again in this ocean. But I tell you the truth-- I would rather drown as a body suspended and dependent on the permeating, penetrating sea of the mercy and love of Christ than breathe another breath of the deadly, destructive oxygen that swamps the world. I fear not that I may never again take in the air of self-centered arrogance... no, I embrace the sacrifice of succumbing in worldly death to G-d's endless, overwhelming grace.
I'm warning you. It costs little to be safe. It costs everything to be free.
Anxiety and excitement spark back and forth in my brain in equal amounts. Of course I don't know what will happen-- that's part of the experience. How much could I control... what levers are in my reach to tweak? The usual situation, though, ends up showing me that my finger is too weak to push these kinds of buttons: they're meant for bigger hands.
Hallelujah. I will say again, hallelujah; for uncertainty is the yeast of our daily bread. For who can see the product of a baker's labor until after it is too late to turn back? In the same way, I lead my group as we test this depth with both feet. It will be dreadfully uncomfortable, and we might not emerge again in this ocean. But I tell you the truth-- I would rather drown as a body suspended and dependent on the permeating, penetrating sea of the mercy and love of Christ than breathe another breath of the deadly, destructive oxygen that swamps the world. I fear not that I may never again take in the air of self-centered arrogance... no, I embrace the sacrifice of succumbing in worldly death to G-d's endless, overwhelming grace.
I'm warning you. It costs little to be safe. It costs everything to be free.
4.10.08
Politics makes my truth hurt.
Some of you may have seen commercials on TV, with scary corporate logos that read "Human Double Inc" and "EMBROLUX." If any of you may possibly have been misled by this hostile attempt to invade your private mind, read and be enlightened:
ARTICLE 1
Section 27. (1) Nothing in this section shall alter Michigan’s current prohibition
on human cloning.
and...
(2) (c) No person may, for valuable consideration, purchase or sell human
embryos for stem cell research or stem cell therapies and cures.
Oh, so Proposal 2 won't legalize human cloning or sale of human embryos. What a relief!
ARTICLE 1
Section 27. (1) Nothing in this section shall alter Michigan’s current prohibition
on human cloning.
and...
(2) (c) No person may, for valuable consideration, purchase or sell human
embryos for stem cell research or stem cell therapies and cures.
Oh, so Proposal 2 won't legalize human cloning or sale of human embryos. What a relief!
3.10.08
The Big Dream
My dream involves physics. You were warned.
In class today, we were discussion the "conservation of linear momentum." In English: things don't just start moving. The energy has to come from somewhere, and in quantities related to mass and speed. So, we used the example of a car on Earth. When a car accelerates, it pushes off the Earth. Therefore, the total momentum of the planet Earth is affected every time I pull out of the parking lot. What a trip. So, this got me thinking. I raised my hand, and asked the question,
So, if we coordinated every car on Earth to drive in the direction against Earth's rotation, could we theoretically add an hour to the day?
In theory, yeah, that would work. I thought it made sense. My question was shortly thereafter shot down like a New York yuppie in the parking lot of U of M Flint.
No, there's really no way.
A curse on you, dream-stealer! I say all of that to say this: don't be afraid to ask the big questions. I know it would take hundreds of years for cars all going the same direction to even add ten minutes to a day... but the idea is fascinating, isn't it? Some people want us to believe that the border of "no, there's really no way" is lined by concrete walls and razor wire, with armed guards at every possible crossing. I tell you that the imagination treats this fence as the wall of a sand castle-- the overwhelming, God-modeling tide of human curiosity blows it away as soon and often as it desires, and this is not a behavior that can be repressed.
Thank God.
In class today, we were discussion the "conservation of linear momentum." In English: things don't just start moving. The energy has to come from somewhere, and in quantities related to mass and speed. So, we used the example of a car on Earth. When a car accelerates, it pushes off the Earth. Therefore, the total momentum of the planet Earth is affected every time I pull out of the parking lot. What a trip. So, this got me thinking. I raised my hand, and asked the question,
So, if we coordinated every car on Earth to drive in the direction against Earth's rotation, could we theoretically add an hour to the day?
In theory, yeah, that would work. I thought it made sense. My question was shortly thereafter shot down like a New York yuppie in the parking lot of U of M Flint.
No, there's really no way.
A curse on you, dream-stealer! I say all of that to say this: don't be afraid to ask the big questions. I know it would take hundreds of years for cars all going the same direction to even add ten minutes to a day... but the idea is fascinating, isn't it? Some people want us to believe that the border of "no, there's really no way" is lined by concrete walls and razor wire, with armed guards at every possible crossing. I tell you that the imagination treats this fence as the wall of a sand castle-- the overwhelming, God-modeling tide of human curiosity blows it away as soon and often as it desires, and this is not a behavior that can be repressed.
Thank God.
1.10.08
A little nugget of wisdom
I hate when people say that. However, I feel like this saying, which I recently received, is important:
"When work begins to feel overwhelming, just remember that you're going to die."
I can only hope. puh.
"When work begins to feel overwhelming, just remember that you're going to die."
I can only hope. puh.
29.9.08
Stallion's song
"You've lived your whole life for us, Dad."
Those were the words of assurance from my mother to my grandfather this past weekend. I watched on, uncomfortably, as a man I always knew to be so tough and strong was held to a hospital bed by the lead weight in his lungs. Machines, tubes, wires-- medicine was doing jobs he'd been doing unassisted his entire life. Simple breath came as a chore; one painful chore after another. The morphine took the edge off, but I could see that cringe of pain in his face every time his heart monitor began to chirp. Tears flooded the room. After all, this was the man who survived so many attempts on his life from nature... then, to hear him mutter the battered words: "I give up." Tears were our only reaction.
It was too much... for all of us.
It was then that Father Bob cautiously waded into the room. The fear of death and the red-hot hand of pain must have been evident in Papa's eyes, because Father Bob knew exactly what to say. And God began to speak... not from a loop, not a recording. This was for him, and us.
"Tony, this is not giving up. This is not defeat. This is victory. When you see that light, you don't hesitate. You run for that light, Tony."
Saline fear gushed out from Papa's eyes. The works of his life, the people he lifted up in spite of himself, the world he changed forever-- they came to the front. Fear was not his salvation, and he was firmly convinced. God's vessel was ready to return to its harbor.
So, who will carry this man's legacy? When he finally departs, will he know that the love and power that comes from the perfect law that gives freedom... will he know that I, for the rest of my days, will keep it with me?
24.9.08
Rice A Roni
[ME is browsing Facebook on his computer in the kitchen, visibly bored. A lukewarm skillet, filled with uncooked rice/vermicelli mix sits on the stove top. MIRACLE enters.]
ME This Rice a Roni is taking forever to cook. [exasperated sigh] Maybe I added too much butter. I dunno.
MIRACLE Oh, well, see here? This knob? You turn it up.
ME [not paying attention] Dude, I already have it up more than I should. It's gotta be too much butter.
MIRACLE No, I mean this knob. [points to the "rear left" knob, which my skillet is on] Unless, of course, you want to use the right one.
Where would I be without my friends?
I mean, besides hungry. =)
ME This Rice a Roni is taking forever to cook. [exasperated sigh] Maybe I added too much butter. I dunno.
MIRACLE Oh, well, see here? This knob? You turn it up.
ME [not paying attention] Dude, I already have it up more than I should. It's gotta be too much butter.
MIRACLE No, I mean this knob. [points to the "rear left" knob, which my skillet is on] Unless, of course, you want to use the right one.
Where would I be without my friends?
I mean, besides hungry. =)
22.9.08
Life on an abacus
I know it was for the freshmen, but something that Dr. Correll said during the seminar today resonated with me. I wish I could quote it, but I can't produce what he said, verbatim. So instead, it's story time.
Back during my freshman year, I took a class called EDU 100; the introductory education class. Not being completely convinced of my calling to teaching, I decided to give this class a shot to be my make or break in the field. Now, everything was going well until I began my classroom observations. My assignment was to observe a typical 10th grade biology classroom-- my projected stomping ground after graduation-- for a few hours every week. That which I expected to be an eye-opening experience made sure not to disappoint. It was interesting to me enough, as a scientist, to watch cause-and-effect relationships all around the room; to break the act of learning into a cold science. I'm not saying that's all that happened, I'm just saying that was my reaction. My life, as I knew it, would be built around a daily seven-hour block of tables, figures, definitions, and dissections; hook-ups, break-ups, dances, and assemblies. Some people have no trouble living life in a predictable schedule. I declined. It was in that moment in time when I used college to discover something about myself, and that was that I handle routine the same as a plague.
So, back to senior year. I sit in White Auditorium, next to the greatest core instructor ever, contemplating the way I live. When I returned to my room, I looked at my daily schedule on Facebook... and sighed in relief. What was presented to me was as much of my life that may be presented on a table: the portion of my existence that shows up on a graph. Let me tell you, and you can check for yourself, it's not much. Others need me to be predictable, and I understand why. But even more so, I need... I desire; I am unbridled in my desire to be unpredictable.
After all, who decided life should be that way? The tedious comparison of every second against the colored paper table on the door... the dull, grayscale moments of my day slowly descend into obscene cold in my soul. My soul, then, exploding from being compressed, somehow, into a cubic representation of a "productive" existence. Screams pour out from under the lid of the casket where a childlike approach to faith and living is contained, as rays of light in the darkness. The overgrown path to the Father, warmed by the bare footsteps of indomitable children, guides me through every day.
Back during my freshman year, I took a class called EDU 100; the introductory education class. Not being completely convinced of my calling to teaching, I decided to give this class a shot to be my make or break in the field. Now, everything was going well until I began my classroom observations. My assignment was to observe a typical 10th grade biology classroom-- my projected stomping ground after graduation-- for a few hours every week. That which I expected to be an eye-opening experience made sure not to disappoint. It was interesting to me enough, as a scientist, to watch cause-and-effect relationships all around the room; to break the act of learning into a cold science. I'm not saying that's all that happened, I'm just saying that was my reaction. My life, as I knew it, would be built around a daily seven-hour block of tables, figures, definitions, and dissections; hook-ups, break-ups, dances, and assemblies. Some people have no trouble living life in a predictable schedule. I declined. It was in that moment in time when I used college to discover something about myself, and that was that I handle routine the same as a plague.
So, back to senior year. I sit in White Auditorium, next to the greatest core instructor ever, contemplating the way I live. When I returned to my room, I looked at my daily schedule on Facebook... and sighed in relief. What was presented to me was as much of my life that may be presented on a table: the portion of my existence that shows up on a graph. Let me tell you, and you can check for yourself, it's not much. Others need me to be predictable, and I understand why. But even more so, I need... I desire; I am unbridled in my desire to be unpredictable.
After all, who decided life should be that way? The tedious comparison of every second against the colored paper table on the door... the dull, grayscale moments of my day slowly descend into obscene cold in my soul. My soul, then, exploding from being compressed, somehow, into a cubic representation of a "productive" existence. Screams pour out from under the lid of the casket where a childlike approach to faith and living is contained, as rays of light in the darkness. The overgrown path to the Father, warmed by the bare footsteps of indomitable children, guides me through every day.
11.9.08
Sanctified to Wonder
Burn.
Landscape,
all I see--
all I see burns.
See
what comes!
The nothing
inside our homes.
Love,
power,
forgiveness;
are they the same?
Turn,
fall down.
"Break our hearts;
we broke your heart."
Love,
power,
forgiveness;
have been the same.
See
our God!
His mercy,
his compassion.
Burn.
We all
meet with you
after we burn.
You
will give
praising lips
the words to say.
You,
the dreams,
deliverance,
wonders of You.
(Joel 2)
Landscape,
all I see--
all I see burns.
See
what comes!
The nothing
inside our homes.
Love,
power,
forgiveness;
are they the same?
Turn,
fall down.
"Break our hearts;
we broke your heart."
Love,
power,
forgiveness;
have been the same.
See
our God!
His mercy,
his compassion.
Burn.
We all
meet with you
after we burn.
You
will give
praising lips
the words to say.
You,
the dreams,
deliverance,
wonders of You.
(Joel 2)
10.9.08
Usurper
It's interesting to see what I do when I actually do it. I find it interesting to see that my soul believed that I wasn't kidding around when I adopted my family motto (translated from Latin): deeds without words. Hunger is what I now deal with, fire is the inhabitant of my spirit. I simply cannot stop becoming more of the man I am meant to be in Christ... and it is absolutely one of the most thrilling processes I've ever experienced.
However, it would be admittedly more thrilling if it didn't involve so much work. Biochemistry is not easy, nor is spiritual formation, nor abnormal psychology, nor physics. Unlike similar, former phases, I am unhinged in the pursuit of what is good. Nothing holds me back from being what I need to be. Nothing holds me back from harnessing what I am through action.
Like I said, thrilling. I'd recommend this to everyone.
However, it would be admittedly more thrilling if it didn't involve so much work. Biochemistry is not easy, nor is spiritual formation, nor abnormal psychology, nor physics. Unlike similar, former phases, I am unhinged in the pursuit of what is good. Nothing holds me back from being what I need to be. Nothing holds me back from harnessing what I am through action.
Like I said, thrilling. I'd recommend this to everyone.
2.9.08
A lightning-rod wrist
Worship is the admission that we mean nothing in the vast scope of a wonderful creation.
Worship is the celebration that we mean everything to a vast and wonderful Creator.
Worship is the celebration that we mean everything to a vast and wonderful Creator.
30.8.08
Amateur Meteorologists
Storm's coming.
I remember feeling the same way last year. Like I've said to all of them, all of the new PAs last year looked around at each other on Sunday last year, and silently channeled the same, desperate thought: "What the heck did we get ourselves into?"
As a group, we've been going through 1 Thessalonians. Robin gave us a few verses to think over, and there were quite a few correlations between the ink on the page and the motives in our hearts. I decided to write a few lines of verse for each of the verses she gave us during our reflection times. These became, then, a very long compilation of verse... which is rickety and doesn't always flow. However, I think it fits as encouragement for all of us. Here it is.
1 Thes 1:4, 2:7-8, 2:12, 3:8, 3:11, 4:7, 4:18, 5:11
There was a sign,
so odd that it came through the telephone.
What did I find?
So odd to understand that I'm not alone.
We are all on the same island in the sea,
with no clue what we're worth or we are to be.
The escape lowered to my hands, I held
just us and no one else-- just us and no one else.
So childish in your ways and holy in your thoughts;
so proven what gentleness such righteousness has bought.
The paper reads, "Look up, and see:
play along with your family."
As we show you what is good and right,
no praise could summon higher delight.
The face of the furnace, grim, unrelenting;
the sinews of my weak heart are dissenting.
In, in, walk boldly in the heat,
and bet my life you'll follow me.
I close my eyes to see
your bold faces breathe in me.
If only your eyes could see
my life abundantly.
The hopefulness of sound
makes me wish I was around,
just so I could sing the tune.
But all my best laid plans
have no place in this dance.
Still, love increases, look at you!
As the mouth of the ocean
consumes the side of a mountain,
tarnished, beaten rocks spill out into the sea.
Your very lives have spoken
of chains that were broken,
set apart is now the only thing you can be.
When your mind is lost on the ocean waves,
when your feet burn in paths of flame,
in these words, may you find rest:
dancing in the fog is what we do best.
It's true, what the king said.
When blood melts the earth, his words pulse through my head.
Who were just spectators,
are now my valued, steel-hearted brothers and sisters.
So when the sun explodes, and the moon turns a cold face;
we chosen, we happy few, we will have grace.
Man, what should I even name this? So dang discombobulated... =P
I remember feeling the same way last year. Like I've said to all of them, all of the new PAs last year looked around at each other on Sunday last year, and silently channeled the same, desperate thought: "What the heck did we get ourselves into?"
As a group, we've been going through 1 Thessalonians. Robin gave us a few verses to think over, and there were quite a few correlations between the ink on the page and the motives in our hearts. I decided to write a few lines of verse for each of the verses she gave us during our reflection times. These became, then, a very long compilation of verse... which is rickety and doesn't always flow. However, I think it fits as encouragement for all of us. Here it is.
1 Thes 1:4, 2:7-8, 2:12, 3:8, 3:11, 4:7, 4:18, 5:11
There was a sign,
so odd that it came through the telephone.
What did I find?
So odd to understand that I'm not alone.
We are all on the same island in the sea,
with no clue what we're worth or we are to be.
The escape lowered to my hands, I held
just us and no one else-- just us and no one else.
So childish in your ways and holy in your thoughts;
so proven what gentleness such righteousness has bought.
The paper reads, "Look up, and see:
play along with your family."
As we show you what is good and right,
no praise could summon higher delight.
The face of the furnace, grim, unrelenting;
the sinews of my weak heart are dissenting.
In, in, walk boldly in the heat,
and bet my life you'll follow me.
I close my eyes to see
your bold faces breathe in me.
If only your eyes could see
my life abundantly.
The hopefulness of sound
makes me wish I was around,
just so I could sing the tune.
But all my best laid plans
have no place in this dance.
Still, love increases, look at you!
As the mouth of the ocean
consumes the side of a mountain,
tarnished, beaten rocks spill out into the sea.
Your very lives have spoken
of chains that were broken,
set apart is now the only thing you can be.
When your mind is lost on the ocean waves,
when your feet burn in paths of flame,
in these words, may you find rest:
dancing in the fog is what we do best.
It's true, what the king said.
When blood melts the earth, his words pulse through my head.
Who were just spectators,
are now my valued, steel-hearted brothers and sisters.
So when the sun explodes, and the moon turns a cold face;
we chosen, we happy few, we will have grace.
Man, what should I even name this? So dang discombobulated... =P
19.8.08
Terra Therma
Three blank, white walls
enclose what has passed.
They offer no calm;
comfort does not last.
Drink in the sky,
what's left of the chains
shuts out all the light--
black as the night rain.
The smoke is inhaled,
it waits in the lungs;
but life can prevail
with a headlong plunge in the fire
The choice we all must make
between the heat and the fire:
there lie sinful graves
between the heat and the fire.
Rooms which held your youth,
halls in which you perspired
held such childish truth;
halls in which you perspired.
Follow, headfirst into the flames!
The red and black ink says you'll never be the same.
Headstones, burnt in the cliff-side,
will always mark what we left behind.
enclose what has passed.
They offer no calm;
comfort does not last.
Drink in the sky,
what's left of the chains
shuts out all the light--
black as the night rain.
The smoke is inhaled,
it waits in the lungs;
but life can prevail
with a headlong plunge in the fire
The choice we all must make
between the heat and the fire:
there lie sinful graves
between the heat and the fire.
Rooms which held your youth,
halls in which you perspired
held such childish truth;
halls in which you perspired.
Follow, headfirst into the flames!
The red and black ink says you'll never be the same.
Headstones, burnt in the cliff-side,
will always mark what we left behind.
10.8.08
Game review: Disney's Pirates Online
Under the influence of my "friends", I decided to download and try out Pirates Online. This game was an awful waste of time. I give it a -9.5/10, and I would not recommend it to anyone, ever.
Now, I'll explain.
First of all, on the website, the required system specs to run the game could be found on a computer that was built to survive the Y2K virus. However, I found my computer (which is significantly better than the required system to run the game) was constantly trying to keep up. I would take a few steps, freeze. Another couple of steps, freeze. This took place on an island where it was only me walking around, making it very difficult for me to slay a sand crab before it pinched me to death. Ugh.
Next was the name system... I can understand what they were trying to do with this, and I understand why they want it this way. You're only allowed to have a "piratey" name. It makes sense, doesn't it? Now, they give you a set of pirate names they've provided that you may choose a combination of for your pirate. I didn't like any of them. After a little deliberation, I decided on the name "Tiny Hands Flannigan." After all, he was my pirate, and he had a mohawk. I followed the long list of rules they gave me, and turned my name in for approval; I was temporarily given the name "Pirate." This afternoon, while I was loading the game and simultaneously wondering why I hadn't already uninstalled this stupid game, a message box brings word that my submitted name had been rejected. Seriously? Seriously. Apparently, "Tiny Hands Flannigan" has some innuendoes or drug references of which I was previously unaware. I had to settle for "Isaiah McWrecker."Ugh.
Finally, the commercial says the game is free and it lies. While you can play the main story quest (and believe me, it takes a while) and get a few goodies and upgrades for free, the vast majority of the game is available for $10/month. Give me a break! So, after getting stabbed to death by a giant scorpion on a deserted island for a sufficient amount of time to afford a nicer ship, Isaiah McWrecker gets to look forward to sailing around in the same frickin' sloop he started off in. Ugh.
There are redeeming qualities. The most obvious is the fact that you can be a pirate, which rules. The ability to run around and slay baddies with weapons such as a cutlass, pistol, or even a voodoo doll is pretty wicked-- and the fighting was admittedly cool when I stumbled upon a ten-second lapse in the walk-freeze-walk cycle. Finally, I loved to sail and take down ships in the open water. But it's tough when you can't see what's happening most of the time, and even tougher when the only ship you can sail in is constantly inferior, because you haven't handed any money over to the Disney empire for a digital galleon. "Captain McWrecker" doesn't really have a good ring to it, anyway.
It's a pretty good idea, but the epic-failitude in fundamentals (such as allowing the game to run smoothly, giving me my creativity, or the ever-important free of cost) hurts this game way too bad for it to ever be fun.
By the way, I apologize for yelling "Stop blowin' 'oles in my ship!" every twenty seconds in the lobby this afternoon. I couldn't help it.
Now, I'll explain.
First of all, on the website, the required system specs to run the game could be found on a computer that was built to survive the Y2K virus. However, I found my computer (which is significantly better than the required system to run the game) was constantly trying to keep up. I would take a few steps, freeze. Another couple of steps, freeze. This took place on an island where it was only me walking around, making it very difficult for me to slay a sand crab before it pinched me to death. Ugh.
Next was the name system... I can understand what they were trying to do with this, and I understand why they want it this way. You're only allowed to have a "piratey" name. It makes sense, doesn't it? Now, they give you a set of pirate names they've provided that you may choose a combination of for your pirate. I didn't like any of them. After a little deliberation, I decided on the name "Tiny Hands Flannigan." After all, he was my pirate, and he had a mohawk. I followed the long list of rules they gave me, and turned my name in for approval; I was temporarily given the name "Pirate." This afternoon, while I was loading the game and simultaneously wondering why I hadn't already uninstalled this stupid game, a message box brings word that my submitted name had been rejected. Seriously? Seriously. Apparently, "Tiny Hands Flannigan" has some innuendoes or drug references of which I was previously unaware. I had to settle for "Isaiah McWrecker."Ugh.
Finally, the commercial says the game is free and it lies. While you can play the main story quest (and believe me, it takes a while) and get a few goodies and upgrades for free, the vast majority of the game is available for $10/month. Give me a break! So, after getting stabbed to death by a giant scorpion on a deserted island for a sufficient amount of time to afford a nicer ship, Isaiah McWrecker gets to look forward to sailing around in the same frickin' sloop he started off in. Ugh.
There are redeeming qualities. The most obvious is the fact that you can be a pirate, which rules. The ability to run around and slay baddies with weapons such as a cutlass, pistol, or even a voodoo doll is pretty wicked-- and the fighting was admittedly cool when I stumbled upon a ten-second lapse in the walk-freeze-walk cycle. Finally, I loved to sail and take down ships in the open water. But it's tough when you can't see what's happening most of the time, and even tougher when the only ship you can sail in is constantly inferior, because you haven't handed any money over to the Disney empire for a digital galleon. "Captain McWrecker" doesn't really have a good ring to it, anyway.
It's a pretty good idea, but the epic-failitude in fundamentals (such as allowing the game to run smoothly, giving me my creativity, or the ever-important free of cost) hurts this game way too bad for it to ever be fun.
By the way, I apologize for yelling "Stop blowin' 'oles in my ship!" every twenty seconds in the lobby this afternoon. I couldn't help it.
7.8.08
The Hand, The Furnace, The Straight Face
The tension is mounting here. Students all over the area are anticipating our return to this school, whether grudgingly or excitedly. What's even more urgent-- the days are falling off the countdown even quicker this month.
This will be a test. As with every major step forward in life, this school year will shake out what we've decided to keep in our souls. Sure, we can allow God to be the potter to our clay. We respond joyfully, like good disciples, to our shaping. However, a vessel in this state is absolutely worthless.
It is made whole in the fire.
How will we react to the heat? The intensity of the kiln of our lives, will it leave us cracked? Split, disfigured, useless? Will we discover that our preparation was flawed, leaving us to deal with such gross inequities and an inherent inability to cope? Will we be stricken by despair in regard to our new-found worthlessness?
No.
We will be solidified. We will be transfigured. Our souls, in their fragility, will contain the joy and love of the living God. We will see with our own eyes what God has decided we will become, and we will be overjoyed at the sight of the virtuosity of his intensional craftsmanship. But for this to occur, one thing is certain:
He must be the potter.
No one else can take our most troubling, depressing, recurring-nightmare-causing issues and form them into such, as beautiful as this. We must stare down our wills on the dust-swept roads of our hearts. We must order our sin to be put to death. We must be willing to be put in the fire.
The prayer of Hezekiah, a man in the fire:
"O Lord, God of Israel, enthroned between the cherubim, you alone are God over all the kingdoms of the earth. You have made heaven and earth. Give ear, O Lord, and hear; open your eyes, O Lord, and see; listen to the words Sennacherib has sent to insult the living God.
It is true, O Lord, that the Assyrian kings have laid waste these nations and their lands. They have thrown their gods into the fire and destroyed them, for they were not gods but only wood and stone, fashioned by men's hands. Now, O Lord our God, deliver us from his hand so that all kingdoms on earth may know that you alone, O Lord, are God."
Hezekiah had no reservations in his trust in God, even with an incredibly mighty and insulting Assyrian army breathing down his neck-- threatening to destroy his nation, his wealth, and his power. He trustingly admits that he is not the potter. He puts the situation into the hands of a god that was not created, but creates. I don't want to ruin the ending for you. I will say that Isaiah got involved, and this king came out of the fire as a beaming, glowing hot, bright red vessel of God's glory.
2 Kings 18-20 tell the story, and I highly recommend it.
This will be a test. As with every major step forward in life, this school year will shake out what we've decided to keep in our souls. Sure, we can allow God to be the potter to our clay. We respond joyfully, like good disciples, to our shaping. However, a vessel in this state is absolutely worthless.
It is made whole in the fire.
How will we react to the heat? The intensity of the kiln of our lives, will it leave us cracked? Split, disfigured, useless? Will we discover that our preparation was flawed, leaving us to deal with such gross inequities and an inherent inability to cope? Will we be stricken by despair in regard to our new-found worthlessness?
No.
We will be solidified. We will be transfigured. Our souls, in their fragility, will contain the joy and love of the living God. We will see with our own eyes what God has decided we will become, and we will be overjoyed at the sight of the virtuosity of his intensional craftsmanship. But for this to occur, one thing is certain:
He must be the potter.
No one else can take our most troubling, depressing, recurring-nightmare-causing issues and form them into such, as beautiful as this. We must stare down our wills on the dust-swept roads of our hearts. We must order our sin to be put to death. We must be willing to be put in the fire.
The prayer of Hezekiah, a man in the fire:
"O Lord, God of Israel, enthroned between the cherubim, you alone are God over all the kingdoms of the earth. You have made heaven and earth. Give ear, O Lord, and hear; open your eyes, O Lord, and see; listen to the words Sennacherib has sent to insult the living God.
It is true, O Lord, that the Assyrian kings have laid waste these nations and their lands. They have thrown their gods into the fire and destroyed them, for they were not gods but only wood and stone, fashioned by men's hands. Now, O Lord our God, deliver us from his hand so that all kingdoms on earth may know that you alone, O Lord, are God."
Hezekiah had no reservations in his trust in God, even with an incredibly mighty and insulting Assyrian army breathing down his neck-- threatening to destroy his nation, his wealth, and his power. He trustingly admits that he is not the potter. He puts the situation into the hands of a god that was not created, but creates. I don't want to ruin the ending for you. I will say that Isaiah got involved, and this king came out of the fire as a beaming, glowing hot, bright red vessel of God's glory.
2 Kings 18-20 tell the story, and I highly recommend it.
6.8.08
Night of the Walking Rave
What happens when the power goes out in the village?
RAVE.
I'm gonna admit, I was feeling pretty good tonight. I had rocked my finals in phlebotomy (written and practical), and I came back to hang out with my friends. All of a sudden, during a video game...
ZAP mmmmrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrow. Bye bye light.
We only had the emergency lights on, and that was pretty much all. We're all freaking out, because 1) a certain couple was going at it in the lobby, and we all faced it when we walked out of our rooms 2) our alarms were toast, and there was really no sure way that we'd be on time for work tomorrow 3) no A/C meant that we'd probably not get to sleep anyway. As I wander around the campus to measure the situation, a couple of campus safety officers approach with light sticks, in order for us to see in our dark rooms. They handed them out to us as we stood in a huddled mass in the parking lot, complaining. Of course, my mind swam in the ocean of only one, truly beautiful idea...
RAVE.
I run in and get my computer, load a bunch of sick dance music on a playlist, bring the computer out to the parking lot, and blared it. It was awe-inspiring. After a while, it began to lose steam. People got tired, or were just not feeling the need to dance with lightsticks in the parking lot. Go figure. One of the officers tells us that it would be okay to go chill in the student center while the power was fixed. Thus began
the Night of the Walking RAVE.
I carried my computer, and so ensured that we would continue to soak the air with obnoxiously contagious beats and samples as we walked across the campus. We stopped at Gainey, and shared the experience with the Highbeamers. We raved on the Concept. We raved in the library. We finally stopped at the Fireside, where we raved until about midnight. At the signal that the power was then restored, we returned to the village. But we will never forget the rave.
RAVE.
I'm gonna admit, I was feeling pretty good tonight. I had rocked my finals in phlebotomy (written and practical), and I came back to hang out with my friends. All of a sudden, during a video game...
ZAP mmmmrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrow. Bye bye light.
We only had the emergency lights on, and that was pretty much all. We're all freaking out, because 1) a certain couple was going at it in the lobby, and we all faced it when we walked out of our rooms 2) our alarms were toast, and there was really no sure way that we'd be on time for work tomorrow 3) no A/C meant that we'd probably not get to sleep anyway. As I wander around the campus to measure the situation, a couple of campus safety officers approach with light sticks, in order for us to see in our dark rooms. They handed them out to us as we stood in a huddled mass in the parking lot, complaining. Of course, my mind swam in the ocean of only one, truly beautiful idea...
RAVE.
I run in and get my computer, load a bunch of sick dance music on a playlist, bring the computer out to the parking lot, and blared it. It was awe-inspiring. After a while, it began to lose steam. People got tired, or were just not feeling the need to dance with lightsticks in the parking lot. Go figure. One of the officers tells us that it would be okay to go chill in the student center while the power was fixed. Thus began
the Night of the Walking RAVE.
I carried my computer, and so ensured that we would continue to soak the air with obnoxiously contagious beats and samples as we walked across the campus. We stopped at Gainey, and shared the experience with the Highbeamers. We raved on the Concept. We raved in the library. We finally stopped at the Fireside, where we raved until about midnight. At the signal that the power was then restored, we returned to the village. But we will never forget the rave.
2.8.08
For an optimist, I'm pretty pessimistic
I know that's flipped around. I did it on purpose.
My thoughts have been bothering me as of late. If the tagline for my blog is "do not stand in the center if you do not wish to be shaken", then I guess the appropriate summary of these thoughts has been: "do I get anyone to stand with me?" You know. Lonely thoughts.
It's easier to get wrapped up in this kind of thought train when there's really no one around during the summer. When school hits, I don't even think twice about it. In fact, I enjoy the freedom that being single brings, because I don't think I'd be able to do the things I'm doing if I wasn't single. It kinda sucks to admit that, but I know it's true. Most of you know that I need a cowbell sometimes in order to find me on a weeknight (because I NEVER carry my cell phone. give me a break, it's prepaid). And with my plans to go into international medicine... how can I attach to anyone without letting go of my dream? In all seriousness, that situation is probably not as severe as it sounds. Still-- it makes me wonder how effective I would be either way.
The apostle Paul has a nice little presentation in Corinthians about this issue. I try to steer clear of that chapter (like just about everyone else at SAU), but I'm finding he raises some good points. To serve God, he points out, is a higher calling than any earthly relationship can replace. And to tie in with a recent morning devotion from the last chapter of John, my calling is to put my faith and love into practice, not just words. That sounds familiar. Oh, yes...
"Deeds without words." The family motto since my crusading ancestor, Johann Grosshans. (I kinda laughed when I found this out, since it was close to what I had decided to live by, anyway.)
From time to time during my growing up, I would seriously ponder this thought of God's will for my relationships. I would constantly remind myself that if it must be, I'll remain single (gulp). Upon the mention of this, my friends would be friends; and they would interject that I was "James Grant", and that this somehow meant that I was bound to be bound someday. And I refused to believe it. After all, it was the truth that I loved so dearly (see My Steadfast Lover) that I valued greater than their opinions.
After thinking about all of this, I compare this summer to last summer. If you didn't read my blogs from last summer, then let me bring you up to speed-- it was the worst summer of my life. I did a lot of growing, at the expense of my heart nearly turning to cold ice. In total contrast, this has been one of the best summers of my life: and the ever-bold optimist in my soul screams, "Be grateful, will you?"
I recently bore witness to a friend of mine done wrong in a relationship; in a horrible, despicable way. I don't think that anyone saw it coming, especially not me. I never wanted to say this, but maybe it pays for me to be single. For now, in the fog.
My thoughts have been bothering me as of late. If the tagline for my blog is "do not stand in the center if you do not wish to be shaken", then I guess the appropriate summary of these thoughts has been: "do I get anyone to stand with me?" You know. Lonely thoughts.
It's easier to get wrapped up in this kind of thought train when there's really no one around during the summer. When school hits, I don't even think twice about it. In fact, I enjoy the freedom that being single brings, because I don't think I'd be able to do the things I'm doing if I wasn't single. It kinda sucks to admit that, but I know it's true. Most of you know that I need a cowbell sometimes in order to find me on a weeknight (because I NEVER carry my cell phone. give me a break, it's prepaid). And with my plans to go into international medicine... how can I attach to anyone without letting go of my dream? In all seriousness, that situation is probably not as severe as it sounds. Still-- it makes me wonder how effective I would be either way.
The apostle Paul has a nice little presentation in Corinthians about this issue. I try to steer clear of that chapter (like just about everyone else at SAU), but I'm finding he raises some good points. To serve God, he points out, is a higher calling than any earthly relationship can replace. And to tie in with a recent morning devotion from the last chapter of John, my calling is to put my faith and love into practice, not just words. That sounds familiar. Oh, yes...
"Deeds without words." The family motto since my crusading ancestor, Johann Grosshans. (I kinda laughed when I found this out, since it was close to what I had decided to live by, anyway.)
From time to time during my growing up, I would seriously ponder this thought of God's will for my relationships. I would constantly remind myself that if it must be, I'll remain single (gulp). Upon the mention of this, my friends would be friends; and they would interject that I was "James Grant", and that this somehow meant that I was bound to be bound someday. And I refused to believe it. After all, it was the truth that I loved so dearly (see My Steadfast Lover) that I valued greater than their opinions.
After thinking about all of this, I compare this summer to last summer. If you didn't read my blogs from last summer, then let me bring you up to speed-- it was the worst summer of my life. I did a lot of growing, at the expense of my heart nearly turning to cold ice. In total contrast, this has been one of the best summers of my life: and the ever-bold optimist in my soul screams, "Be grateful, will you?"
I recently bore witness to a friend of mine done wrong in a relationship; in a horrible, despicable way. I don't think that anyone saw it coming, especially not me. I never wanted to say this, but maybe it pays for me to be single. For now, in the fog.
31.7.08
"Christian."
It pains me to admit this, but I will flip through my friends' Facebook profiles when I'm bored. Okay, it had better pain you, as well, because you know you do it, too. Anyway, I was particularly interested by all the different descriptions next to the "Religious Views" line.
There are so many different ways to describe a relationship with the Trinity, and I find it fascinating.
So, naturally, I start to think: where's mine? How come I don't have a sweet, resounding, specifically-descriptive phrase to put on my profile? Thinking about this further made me change my mind. After reading the book
The Great Omission by Dallas Willard (incredible book, I will let you borrow it if you want), I've put a lot of emphasis on myself to be covered in the dust of Christ, as Rob Bell puts it-- to desire to become a perfect copy of him so much that I end up right up on him wherever he goes. After all, this is what his disciples did. And what dirty feet they had!
So is that my phrase? "Disciple of Christ"?
No. It's not good enough for me. Of course, I admit my faults... I'm going to be the last one to admit that I'm perfect. But I do not desire to be a mere disciple... I want to be like my rabbi! That's the goal! But I can never be him, right? Hmmm... that makes me... a lesser version of Jesus Christ. A more human facsimile of the Son of God. A little Christ. Oh-- wait.
"Christian."
That'll do.
There are so many different ways to describe a relationship with the Trinity, and I find it fascinating.
So, naturally, I start to think: where's mine? How come I don't have a sweet, resounding, specifically-descriptive phrase to put on my profile? Thinking about this further made me change my mind. After reading the book
The Great Omission by Dallas Willard (incredible book, I will let you borrow it if you want), I've put a lot of emphasis on myself to be covered in the dust of Christ, as Rob Bell puts it-- to desire to become a perfect copy of him so much that I end up right up on him wherever he goes. After all, this is what his disciples did. And what dirty feet they had!So is that my phrase? "Disciple of Christ"?
No. It's not good enough for me. Of course, I admit my faults... I'm going to be the last one to admit that I'm perfect. But I do not desire to be a mere disciple... I want to be like my rabbi! That's the goal! But I can never be him, right? Hmmm... that makes me... a lesser version of Jesus Christ. A more human facsimile of the Son of God. A little Christ. Oh-- wait.
"Christian."
That'll do.
30.7.08
Mercy of the Father
Humbly, I seek you, Lord
God, reveal yourself to me
Beauty that cuts chains
Raise me as I'm crushed
Lift my head when I bow down
Call me beloved
Name me as your son
Slave no longer shall I be
My rest is in you
God, reveal yourself to me
Beauty that cuts chains
Raise me as I'm crushed
Lift my head when I bow down
Call me beloved
Name me as your son
Slave no longer shall I be
My rest is in you
...and out come the fleas
If you caught the punk rock reference in the title, I will give you a hug.I'm still scratching my head about this, even eight hours after our crew discovered fleas in apartment E. Yep. They were every-stinkin-where.
Back story-- About three weeks to a month ago, we were sent to paint one of the apartments in this building, but called away when the neighboring apartment in that building was found to have fleas. This room was then bug-bombed with extreme prejudice. We don't know where they came from. Speculation afterwards led our crew to believe that whoever lived in the apartment was a total slob, seeing as pets are not allowed in these buildings.
So, after three weeks to a month, they're still in there. And what's worse: they've spread their blight. Tiny, irritating little jump-aholics... getting all over my legs. It was like a very anti-climactic nightmare. At least it was only Chase, Travis, and I in the room with the fleas. So, after about fifteen or twenty minutes of brushing off the little blighters and sulking about the rampant pest infestation, the three of us walked (you didn't think they'd let us ride in the van, did you?) back to the village. We then bagged up our clothes and took showers... long showers.
I can't afford to burn these clothes. A curse upon you, whoever brought this menace to our feet (and ankles, and sort of calves)! A curse of irritating red dots all over your skin!
25.7.08
My Steadfast Lover
The loudest noise, the faintest whisper
are your eager tools of seduction
For so long, I replaced you with words
And worshiped only my induction
I heard about your face
and the gift of a fearless heart
Solemnly, I dare to approach
You dare me come closer
Once again, of you I boast
My only steadfast lover
I am encased in your beauty
Trembling hands are soaked with admiration
Unfailing love, so sweet upon my lips
The brilliant light of a new day
What I can be, you remind me of this
The face of God in a jar of clay
I swear to you, I will see your face
My heart will feel no fear
[Psalm 27]
are your eager tools of seduction
For so long, I replaced you with words
And worshiped only my induction
I heard about your face
and the gift of a fearless heart
Solemnly, I dare to approach
You dare me come closer
Once again, of you I boast
My only steadfast lover
I am encased in your beauty
Trembling hands are soaked with admiration
Unfailing love, so sweet upon my lips
The brilliant light of a new day
What I can be, you remind me of this
The face of God in a jar of clay
I swear to you, I will see your face
My heart will feel no fear
[Psalm 27]
22.7.08
Crap.
I'm sure you already heard the sirens blaring about a complain-a-blog coming. And of course, it's phlebotomy. During the examination of venipuncture technique on me (a reluctant volunteer), my classmate accidentally slips the needle out with the vacuum tube engaged, and then...
... accidentally stuck the needle back in the vein about a quarter inch distal. Distal = further away from the shoulder. Med terminology lesson for the day, eh? But anyway, that freakin' hurt! Instead of a normal puncture hole, I got a pretty decent scratch: plus the bonus hole. I'm a lucky dude.
Oh, and in case you were wondering... yes. Blood everywhere.
Spitefully, as always, I got a perfect score on my evac tube draw. Money.
... accidentally stuck the needle back in the vein about a quarter inch distal. Distal = further away from the shoulder. Med terminology lesson for the day, eh? But anyway, that freakin' hurt! Instead of a normal puncture hole, I got a pretty decent scratch: plus the bonus hole. I'm a lucky dude.Oh, and in case you were wondering... yes. Blood everywhere.
Spitefully, as always, I got a perfect score on my evac tube draw. Money.
20.7.08
16.7.08
The Test
First of all, I should thank Mr. Donald Brooks as prime inspiration for the way I wrote this... I love the way he writes, and I envy him. And the Apostle James; he was pretty heavy on this, too.
It was yet midnight as I stared at the mirror,
knowing not what I stared at;
I soon realized that its eyes were unfamiliar.
My reflection was glaring back.
"Who are you?" I cried-- "and what is your name?
Oh God, how can this be?"
It replied, "be assured, this is not a game--
I am Inevitability."
"Dreadful," I sighed, "you are the first I fear,
the last that I suspect."
An onerous, watchful, and savage peer
ensures my fate correct.
Inevitability opened a tiny hatch,
just above Its "waist:"
and to it proceeded a peculiar, homespun batch
of things I've been taught to hate.
The head of Rage emerged from the dark behind It:
an eye of envy, and one of pride,
scaled and vicious, I feared its fangs, rescinded.
Loved ones knew only its bite.
My stomach turned at the sight of the translucent face of Fear--
evil stitches its vision controlled!
It jumped, shuddered, scurried away from Rage when it came near,
whose countenance it did not know.
The last of these was Vanity, so lovely and handsome
with the first warm kiss of an eye.
I wept sorrowfully upon my examination;
the face as hollow as mine.
I sobbed, "OK, all right! They are not new enemies.
Now explain the hatch to me!"
Its eyes glowed bright as Rage's tongue hissed,
my heart sank to the floor.
It grabbed my wrist, and told me this:
"I'll show you what this is for!"
At once, the three began to squeeze through the tiny hole,
which the opening forbode.
My tears fueled them as red-hot coals;
I felt my veins explode.
My soul opened up, my nerves were aflame--
my legs betrayed me to the ground!
I cried out, hopeless, as waves of torment overcame
my whole body, every pound.
"Their wrath is great, but you know that such is the price
for a disciple wishing to grow.
You make great claims, and even that you follow Christ!
Do you walk in love, or no?"
"I do! Truly! I believe every word I say!"
I screamed, as I rose to my feet.
I looked and searched, but all in vain.
Inevitablity ceased to be.
It was yet midnight as I stared at the mirror,
knowing not what I stared at;
I soon realized that its eyes were unfamiliar.
My reflection was glaring back.
"Who are you?" I cried-- "and what is your name?
Oh God, how can this be?"
It replied, "be assured, this is not a game--
I am Inevitability."
"Dreadful," I sighed, "you are the first I fear,
the last that I suspect."
An onerous, watchful, and savage peer
ensures my fate correct.
Inevitability opened a tiny hatch,
just above Its "waist:"
and to it proceeded a peculiar, homespun batch
of things I've been taught to hate.
The head of Rage emerged from the dark behind It:
an eye of envy, and one of pride,
scaled and vicious, I feared its fangs, rescinded.
Loved ones knew only its bite.
My stomach turned at the sight of the translucent face of Fear--
evil stitches its vision controlled!
It jumped, shuddered, scurried away from Rage when it came near,
whose countenance it did not know.
The last of these was Vanity, so lovely and handsome
with the first warm kiss of an eye.
I wept sorrowfully upon my examination;
the face as hollow as mine.
I sobbed, "OK, all right! They are not new enemies.
Now explain the hatch to me!"
Its eyes glowed bright as Rage's tongue hissed,
my heart sank to the floor.
It grabbed my wrist, and told me this:
"I'll show you what this is for!"
At once, the three began to squeeze through the tiny hole,
which the opening forbode.
My tears fueled them as red-hot coals;
I felt my veins explode.
My soul opened up, my nerves were aflame--
my legs betrayed me to the ground!
I cried out, hopeless, as waves of torment overcame
my whole body, every pound.
"Their wrath is great, but you know that such is the price
for a disciple wishing to grow.
You make great claims, and even that you follow Christ!
Do you walk in love, or no?"
"I do! Truly! I believe every word I say!"
I screamed, as I rose to my feet.
I looked and searched, but all in vain.
Inevitablity ceased to be.
Blog links
Time for some plugs.
To your left, here, you will see some interestingly named blogs that I link to. I find them fascinating, so maybe you should check them out.
First of all, WTF? Nature is an old livejournal community to which I am subscribed. People are free to post animal (and sometimes human) pictures of a "WTF?" nature. It's pretty wicked. If you look on there now, there's a post about the velvet worm, which hunts down prey by shooting a sticky, quick-hardening goo at it-- yes, just like Spiderman. Also, kinkajous.
Second is Garfield Minus Garfield, which is a morbidly funny comic with an innovative premise. From the blog: "Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness in a quiet American suburb." Hilarious.
Finally, my newest link is to Matty G's Pop Culture 101. This is my friend Matt's take on pop culture, obviously. He's definitely got information I don't have about all sorts of movies, music, and the like to keep me busy reading for a while.
There's my plugs. Check em out.
To your left, here, you will see some interestingly named blogs that I link to. I find them fascinating, so maybe you should check them out.
First of all, WTF? Nature is an old livejournal community to which I am subscribed. People are free to post animal (and sometimes human) pictures of a "WTF?" nature. It's pretty wicked. If you look on there now, there's a post about the velvet worm, which hunts down prey by shooting a sticky, quick-hardening goo at it-- yes, just like Spiderman. Also, kinkajous.
Second is Garfield Minus Garfield, which is a morbidly funny comic with an innovative premise. From the blog: "Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness in a quiet American suburb." Hilarious.
Finally, my newest link is to Matty G's Pop Culture 101. This is my friend Matt's take on pop culture, obviously. He's definitely got information I don't have about all sorts of movies, music, and the like to keep me busy reading for a while.
There's my plugs. Check em out.
14.7.08
Scare tactics.
This is acute necrotizing ulcerative gingivitis (ANUG), better known as trench mouth.
BRUSH YO TEETH.
11.7.08
Coincedence?
I find it ironic that my Calvin shirt chokes the crap out of me every time I have to deal with it.That's all.
10.7.08
Celebration of viability
I'm recording the events of the day right now, so that I do not forget any details. Hopefully, I'll be up for work tomorrow.
So, the day started off with a "Happy Birthday!" sign in my mirror over a bottle of Gatorade. Oh, suitemate. In his honor, I continued to say, "i haz a bloo" when I held up my Gatorade each time today. Work was pretty cool-- we started painting a house with the wrong type of paint. It was wicked. Then, I suggested that the rest of my crew was unfit to live in the Jackson area for so long without ever tasting the donuts of Hinkley's Bakery... which led to Matt (manager) suggesting that the entire crew goes to the bakery for morning break. Glorious.
After work, I find my wallet to be missing. I freaked out a bit, especially since I was out of food and needed to shop. I bought two cans of Spartan soup (poor decision) and some pop tarts with the cash I had on me. When I returned, I drove to the physical plant to check the van. No wallet. Maybe in the house we were painting-- money.
I had a bunch of friends over to watch Hot Fuzz (one of my favorite comedies) in my room for the first movie night since I left for Montana. Never gets old. I think this was the very first time I ever totally packed out my room for a movie this summer. The movie was even interrupted by my parents calling and singing Happy Birthday to me over the speakerphone... which was unfortunately with spotty reception.
Carrie got me these cupcakes of indescribable awesomosity. I'll keep it simple, so that you may understand. Twelve cupcakes. Red icing.
NOM
NOM
NOM
NOM
Indeed, they were nomcakes. I am a pretty happy guy.
Then, I took four of my friends (Shane, Stephanie, Travis, and Hamm) out to Applebee's on a $30 gift card my mom gave me. I figured this would not be a problem with half-off appetizers. When inquiring on the availability of said appetizers, the waitress replied, "Yes, those are on." Upon receiving three samplers, we discover, by courtesy of our snippy attendant, "Oh, by the way, those aren't half-off." This was not a big deal, seeing as it wasn't that much over $30 anyway. But it gets better. Much to my dismay, my "friends" indicate that it was my birthday. Of course, this means that I get to be embarrassed and sung to, and collect on free dessert. However, the ever-snooty waitress responded to Stephanie in this manner: "Oh, there are only two of us tonight. I don't think we'll be able to do it." Depression abounded. This depression transfigured into anger as a flock of ten waiters and waitresses gathered around another customer to sing their Applebee's happy birthday chant. We left shortly after this, though we had a ton of laughs and interesting conversation anyway.
On the way home, as Applebee's was destroyed by fire and sulfur, I notice red and blue flashing lights in my mirror. At the on-ramp of M-60, I pull over for the fuzz. I provide my license and insurance as I dig around in the glovebox for my registration, silently praying to God that the officer does not spot the full box of .22 caliber ammunition in my glovebox. Success. I provide the registration as he asks about my donor sticker on the license and the age of everyone in the car, then leaves to his car. He returns with my things, and asks me to have a good night. Done and done, sir.
Good night, indeed.
So, the day started off with a "Happy Birthday!" sign in my mirror over a bottle of Gatorade. Oh, suitemate. In his honor, I continued to say, "i haz a bloo" when I held up my Gatorade each time today. Work was pretty cool-- we started painting a house with the wrong type of paint. It was wicked. Then, I suggested that the rest of my crew was unfit to live in the Jackson area for so long without ever tasting the donuts of Hinkley's Bakery... which led to Matt (manager) suggesting that the entire crew goes to the bakery for morning break. Glorious.After work, I find my wallet to be missing. I freaked out a bit, especially since I was out of food and needed to shop. I bought two cans of Spartan soup (poor decision) and some pop tarts with the cash I had on me. When I returned, I drove to the physical plant to check the van. No wallet. Maybe in the house we were painting-- money.
I had a bunch of friends over to watch Hot Fuzz (one of my favorite comedies) in my room for the first movie night since I left for Montana. Never gets old. I think this was the very first time I ever totally packed out my room for a movie this summer. The movie was even interrupted by my parents calling and singing Happy Birthday to me over the speakerphone... which was unfortunately with spotty reception.Carrie got me these cupcakes of indescribable awesomosity. I'll keep it simple, so that you may understand. Twelve cupcakes. Red icing.
NOM
NOM
NOM
NOM
Indeed, they were nomcakes. I am a pretty happy guy.
Then, I took four of my friends (Shane, Stephanie, Travis, and Hamm) out to Applebee's on a $30 gift card my mom gave me. I figured this would not be a problem with half-off appetizers. When inquiring on the availability of said appetizers, the waitress replied, "Yes, those are on." Upon receiving three samplers, we discover, by courtesy of our snippy attendant, "Oh, by the way, those aren't half-off." This was not a big deal, seeing as it wasn't that much over $30 anyway. But it gets better. Much to my dismay, my "friends" indicate that it was my birthday. Of course, this means that I get to be embarrassed and sung to, and collect on free dessert. However, the ever-snooty waitress responded to Stephanie in this manner: "Oh, there are only two of us tonight. I don't think we'll be able to do it." Depression abounded. This depression transfigured into anger as a flock of ten waiters and waitresses gathered around another customer to sing their Applebee's happy birthday chant. We left shortly after this, though we had a ton of laughs and interesting conversation anyway.
On the way home, as Applebee's was destroyed by fire and sulfur, I notice red and blue flashing lights in my mirror. At the on-ramp of M-60, I pull over for the fuzz. I provide my license and insurance as I dig around in the glovebox for my registration, silently praying to God that the officer does not spot the full box of .22 caliber ammunition in my glovebox. Success. I provide the registration as he asks about my donor sticker on the license and the age of everyone in the car, then leaves to his car. He returns with my things, and asks me to have a good night. Done and done, sir.Good night, indeed.
9.7.08
Value
This is what I think about when I stare at a white wall for several hours.
Randomly, my mind turned to a topic that we discussed in history of civ last year: the Force Publique in the Congo. These were all white, Belgian soldiers and mercenaries in a colonial army; inevitably, they used nasty methods to ensure that the peace was maintained. The most appalling aspect of this, I thought, was the "right hand policy." To ensure that money was not wasted on ammunition, soldiers of the Force Publique were required to provide a right hand for every bullet fired.
I'm sure you can see where this went.
Anyway, I started to think how this atrocious concept could be applied to viewing today's new concepts of international occupation and ethnocentrism. Piecing together what I'd come up with about our occupying forces in Iraq and Afghanistan, I came up with this simple logic, which justifies our presence there:
We are Americans. We become angry and sad when other people kill Americans, and rightfully so (I'm talking about 9/11). This has led us to kill others in their countries, so that they may not kill Americans in America.
Such is the motivation for the War on Terror. I have been a supporter of this war since it began, but not anymore. I'm sure you're wondering how the right hand policy of the Force Publique fits into this, and I'm getting there. Right now--
The underlying sociological premise upon which the right hand policy was built was this: the Congolese are not equal in value as Belgian colonists. Looking back, can't we see that this is remarkably far from the truth? I've never met a person from the Congo, but I'm sure that I would find the value of that person equal to someone from Belgium, and my government would probably agree. So, if that is true, then how does the War on Terror follow?
How does trading ten Iraqi lives for mine follow?
As Christians, this should be even more obvious to us, but it seems that this is not the case. In fact, we were, as the American church on the whole, more susceptible to vengeful ideas and vigilante politics; a crowd of hurt lovers, wishing to take the hurt back to those who sought to kill us in the form of an again-romanticized crusade. It is now appearing to me that swords do not mend wounds, they only cause more.
There must be another way. Indeed, we should be more inclined to lay our lives down for our enemies than wish their destruction! In Jesus' name, we must seek peace-- this would be His glory.
Randomly, my mind turned to a topic that we discussed in history of civ last year: the Force Publique in the Congo. These were all white, Belgian soldiers and mercenaries in a colonial army; inevitably, they used nasty methods to ensure that the peace was maintained. The most appalling aspect of this, I thought, was the "right hand policy." To ensure that money was not wasted on ammunition, soldiers of the Force Publique were required to provide a right hand for every bullet fired.
I'm sure you can see where this went.
Anyway, I started to think how this atrocious concept could be applied to viewing today's new concepts of international occupation and ethnocentrism. Piecing together what I'd come up with about our occupying forces in Iraq and Afghanistan, I came up with this simple logic, which justifies our presence there:
We are Americans. We become angry and sad when other people kill Americans, and rightfully so (I'm talking about 9/11). This has led us to kill others in their countries, so that they may not kill Americans in America.
Such is the motivation for the War on Terror. I have been a supporter of this war since it began, but not anymore. I'm sure you're wondering how the right hand policy of the Force Publique fits into this, and I'm getting there. Right now--
The underlying sociological premise upon which the right hand policy was built was this: the Congolese are not equal in value as Belgian colonists. Looking back, can't we see that this is remarkably far from the truth? I've never met a person from the Congo, but I'm sure that I would find the value of that person equal to someone from Belgium, and my government would probably agree. So, if that is true, then how does the War on Terror follow?
How does trading ten Iraqi lives for mine follow?
As Christians, this should be even more obvious to us, but it seems that this is not the case. In fact, we were, as the American church on the whole, more susceptible to vengeful ideas and vigilante politics; a crowd of hurt lovers, wishing to take the hurt back to those who sought to kill us in the form of an again-romanticized crusade. It is now appearing to me that swords do not mend wounds, they only cause more.
There must be another way. Indeed, we should be more inclined to lay our lives down for our enemies than wish their destruction! In Jesus' name, we must seek peace-- this would be His glory.
8.7.08
The rundown
All right, I had to do this too. I was a little bit surprised by my results, but the questions were a little miffed and generalized. It's hard to put my political ideology into the terms they gave me. =P
Your Results:
Your Results:
 | 1. | Theoretical Ideal Candidate (100%) |
| 2. | Barack Obama (72%) Information link |
| 3. | Ron Paul (concedes nomination not possible) (68%) Information link |
| 4. | Kent McManigal (campaign suspended) (67%) Information link |
| 5. | Bob Barr (65%) Information link |
| 6. | Bill Richardson (withdrawn, endorsed Obama) (63%) Information link |
| 7. | Christopher Dodd (endorsed Obama) (61%) Information link |
| 8. | Hillary Clinton (defeated [BYAH!], endorsed Obama) (60%) Information link |
| 9. | Dennis Kucinich (withdrawn) (59%) Information link |
| 10. | Wayne Allyn Root (is now Bob Barr's running mate) (58%) Information link |
| 11. | Ralph Nader (56%) Information link |
| 12. | Joseph Biden (withdrawn) (56%) Information link |
| 13. | Wesley Clark (not running, endorsed Clinton) (56%) Information link |
| 14. | John Edwards (withdrawn) (54%) Information link |
| 15. | Alan Keyes (withdrawn) (54%) Information link |
| 16. | Mike Gravel (withdrawn) (54%) Information link |
| 17. | Al Gore (not announced) (53%) Information link |
| 18. | Alan Augustson (campaign suspended) (53%) Information link |
| 19. | Chuck Hagel (not running) (50%) Information link |
| 20. | Michael Bloomberg (says he will not run) (50%) Information link |
| 21. | John McCain (47%) Information link |
| 22. | Newt Gingrich (says he will not run) (47%) Information link |
| 23. | Tom Tancredo (withdrawn, endorsed Romney) (41%) Information link |
| 24. | Mitt Romney (withdrawn, endorsed McCain) (40%) Information link |
| 25. | Rudolph Giuliani (withdrawn, endorsed McCain) (39%) Information link |
| 26. | Duncan Hunter (withdrawn, endorsed Huckabee) (38%) Information link |
| 27. | Sam Brownback (withdrawn, endorsed McCain) (36%) Information link |
| 28. | Mike Huckabee (withdrawn) (33%) Information link |
| 29. | Elaine Brown (withdrawn) (32%) Information link |
| 30. | Fred Thompson (withdrawn, also the scariest man alive) (31%) Information link |
| 31. | Jim Gilmore (withdrawn) (30%) Information link |
| 32. | Stephen Colbert (campaign halted) (28%) Information link |
| 33. | Tommy Thompson (withdrawn, endorsed Giuliani) (24%) Information link |
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