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?

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. =)

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.

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)

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.

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.