Dam

Dam – that structure within
Keeping things in or out, with or without
Depending on the drought
Yet maintaining stagnation
Inside the virtual community
But yet the nether reality
Never fully embodying - love

Dam, bigger stronger
Upholding the water so long
At some point it must break
Out in the land of opportunity
Security, rationality, maturity
At some point that goblet ran dry
Or will run into the arms of another
more powerful creator than Mr. Greenspan
a Jesus Dam –
restraining the natural flow
Life-giving mentality proposed
In a few droplets of graceful peace
Poverty, perfection, Prince
Yet society pounded that previed information
Into wood, underground

That dam – man’s best friend
A construction to feign the natural
Beauty below the feat,
Keep a valley laid low starving
Carving deeper into dried lines of pains
And strains that fall as tears mocking
Just enough to remind that love remains dear

The dam collapse we fear
Because a world flooded, gutted, the mire
Is not in line with our vision of how things should be, would be
How we prepared them to be
In line with the other houses in a row
Our ducks counted and groomed at the corner store
Along with the carpool kids next door

The dam strong and sturdy
Walls thick, yet bricks and mortar, even the concrete can only hold so long
Thankfully it will fail, must fail, has to fall
When water heavy, the burden light
Blue cascading delight refutes
Individual damnation –
Amidst our damned nation

a journey, man.

The iron gates slammed behind me. I start walking. A calm, relaxing pace, enjoying the old oak trees as I pass each large residence. The tall perimeter fences keeping people out or in, depending on the owner’s preference. Several people working on their gardens take a glance up at me, only to look busy again, quickly. A gaggle of children explore the playground, the pause just long enough to sense my departure and wave, blank-faced. A brisk wind sends a shiver simmering down my spine to my toes. I bundle up my jacket. My pace remains steady. The pavement guiding my course.

The journey halted, the pavement ends. Houses and neighbors gone, only the textural greens of a meadow lie before me. Some trees grace the landscape, but mostly grasses, weeds, and a small creature bounds in the distance. A faint path fades in and out. I take off my shoes, take a step. The grass, slightly worn in this particular spot, cushions my naked feet. A few timid steps before a quick turn of my head. Briefly my mind shifts to the passed journey. The lessons, the life, a path, now run dry. My focus returns to the inviting greens. I run. No more looking back, no more regrets. In no particular direction. A reviving wind, a lack of breath, each stretch of my leg longer than the last. At full speed. My feet freely roam space previously unknown. A bliss. Stop.

Someone else. A tree has caught his fancy. He explores the roots, the bark. He then hikes up a single leg and stretches into the tree. A branch aids his climb. He reaches towards the end of a particularly sought after branch. The subject pulls off a leaf, rubs it between his fingers, stares at it in the light, sniffs it, bites a piece off. His thorough arbor inspection reminds me of my own questions. The experience a joyful one, expressed by teeth gleaming through his smile. He catches a glimpse of me watching. An immediately friendly gesture. I wave back. That seems to be enough. We continue on in our respective explorations. My eyes roam the open space looking for that path. And yet, it has disappeared. My mind wanders, the wonders, then awakens once again: there are still others here. On the horizon, among the weeds, under shade, amidst green, jog, stroll, still – others beyond mine eye. Life living. A peace.

A group, together, free, open. In the liberty between each other, more life to live. In the green space, a grace unknown to the ‘hood before. A tribunal nature, forgives and gives and forgets and gets closer to one another, a fresh culture. Life among the weeds, the dying, the dead, the living, the grieving, the thriving, the succeeding in however you establish it – a purely natural green for pruning and purposed existence. Sprouting, budding, growing, morphing, transforming, evolving: the meadow of love, the marvel of life.

midday gift

Not a dark, rather a muted lighter blue. Not imposing or awe-inspiring, just there – for me. A little piece of blue sky, for me. Clouds pass through this small gift, carried by the breeze that tickles my curled toes. Just cool enough to enjoy not wearing socks, though still chilled by the incoming autumn. The trees sway to and fro in the amidst my little piece of sky. The wind constantly changing the view, yet the unbackground blue remains the mainstay – the constant amidst the passerby clouds and undulating branches. God’s little gift to me: A small piece of sky, my sky. Not for any particular reason, just because God loves me.

However people want to meet God is fine with me. Church is merely me, you, and everyone else saved by God’s loving grace. If you love to fish, by all means – meet God at the water. If you interact with concerts in such a way that propels you into God’s presence, listen to as many as you can. If engaging with people in conversation leads you to God, then do it. If you find God at church, go there. Do that.

Our culture: whatever is good for you, then do it. I agree. I agree as long as your ultimate joy and pleasure is in God. May we never forget that lying beyond our little piece of sky is more than we can joyfully imagine or pleasurably dream.

a love supreme

A Love Supreme, John Coltrane’s expression of the truest love he can know. A former addict of heroin, John felt God’s grace so strongly that he had to tell others. His venue happened to be a brass saxophone. His language notes. His thoughts and feelings expressed where words fail. But he tried… The love supreme had such supremacy that he had to express it in some way to everyone he could.

I’m just a man. Not the best at anything. Just living here on Earth. But – God showed me a love supreme. How am I expressing God’s story of love to those around me? I’ll probably never create a masterpiece like Coltrane. In many ways, all I can do is fall short. I can not convey personal experience or memory. I can not attempt to persuade or argue or logic you into belief. I can not make you get there. I can not save you.

All I can do is express. Express love just as I was shown love. My only expression is my story – that I am nothing apart from the Love Supreme.

sort of where i'm at...

I’ve been lead farther and farther away from the institutional church and a modern train of thought. Choosing instead to embrace the “post-modern” (for me the term has come to mean the systematic questioning of everything currently in my realm of thought and the amalgamation of all prior ideas into a personal Christian world view that fits somewhat within the cultural paradigm, yet without abandoning any tenants of my faith) consciousness and forms of “grassroots” Christ-following.

The biggest problems I’ve run into lately are three-fold:
1) What is the Biblical model of church?
2) How is the current version of church a diversion from that original example?
3) What is good as well as bad about this church evolution?

With only spotty answers, only more questions come to mind. The line between how much the Bible forms the church and how much the culture structures the church remains a blurry line as well. The context of our lives are much different (yet remarkably the same, too) as the first century church. So I guess the basic question is: how much has the world changed and how much do we transform our ecclesiology?

Something to keep in mind. As we look at the time from Jude to Revelation, we make up a small portion of the narrative that navigates between those two vastly different takes on Christianity. So, where are we on the way to making the “City of Jerusalem” a holy city? Maybe, rather than looking to the past for help, we look to the plan for the future. We allow John’s vision to shape our vision. The plan of how we get there is up to our proper care and understanding of God’s Word. But it is also up to his birthing of imagination in our souls to be on the lookout for new and innovative ways to share the Gospel and reach the world.

Fresh inside. Ancient convictions.

Careful, steady hands work confidently upon the open grey mass. The fingers tirelessly remove the slightly darker imperfections that have wedged their way between the convolutions. With each extraction the mass groans softly, though the pain occurs only in the mind. Quickly, the convoluted matter deepens, ever transforming with every amputation of a formerly accepted anomaly.

Thumps slow to an imperceptible rhythm. The beat must change. The life-long palpitation permanently assuaged, in assurance of healthy living. A shift for the ages to shape the times. A departure from the norm for creating the quo. The pulse grows stronger in the streets; others running to the beat.

Dying to live for the newness of the day requires recognition and submission to the Creator of the Way. He alone replaces tradition with reformation. The same Man who gave new eyes to the blind has given new eyes for the times, both then and now.

Removing the ancient from inside, fresh convictions on “New” Truth.

If you’re interested, please ask. Questions are what I’m into right now.

The Social Un-Conscience: a tale of 2 meals

6:15 AM - The line for eggs and sausage winds through the gym. A select few cut through to the front of the line. A hush befalls the crowd as a Bible passage is read by a pastor. With heads bowed, what are the homeless praying for? A new job? A friend? A bed? Merely to survive? Or maybe to die?

“Amen.” The line lurches forward.

For the vagrant searchers, being broke and jobless quickly lead to stagnation and desperation. The results of which happen to be addiction and depression. In a world filled with little to no hope due to a lack of upward mobility, the homeless fall into a cycle of failure that is not easy to break. Hanging on to a glimmer of hope might be the only chance. Sometimes, that glimmer of hope can come from someone simply believing in them. The question is: who will take the time to listen to their needs? They are unable to participate in much of society due to a lack of hope in life.

12:15 PM – Coat tails and ties flutter in the wind while the boys rush to be first in the line (of 20 students). The clammer of children bounces off the Bush-clad bumpers of the SUV’s crowding the parking lot. Do they think twice before eating, wondering where their next meal will come from?

Granted that high schoolers in general are not exactly concerned with any society outside of their own, but will these kids ever be concerned for anyone besides those in their own social strata? “It just frustrates me when they (the homeless) won’t get jobs.” – from private school student A who helped out earlier in the morning. Are these students taught to look so far up the ladder of success that looking down is not only preposterous, but only useful as a reminder of what not to be? They are unable to participate in helping much of society due to selfish hopes for life.


Breakfast for the homeless. Lunch with private school. A huge paradox within the exact same city. What do a homeless man and a kid from private school have in common (besides hunger)? Well – both are caught in a stagnant world.

Two concentric schools of thought. Insuffiency v. indulgence. What can be done to bring the two together? Will the social un-conscience ever awake?

fresh look on an old command...

In learning about and questioning what “incarnational” ministry means, I began to ponder exactly how we can love others with the same love Christ did? Since Jesus love often means meeting people at their greatest need, my initial question leads me to another: what is a person’s greatest need? Of course it will be individualized for each one in need, but meeting said need should be our number one priority as we “love our neighbor.”

In thinking about the connectivity of the command to take up one’s cross and follow Christ, it seems that, like most of Jesus teachings, there is a call to social action. I began to think that maybe we need not take up our own cross – that has already been done. Jesus didn’t take his cross to the top of the hill that day. He took mine. Praise God that I don’t have to take that cross for myself, seeing as I most certainly couldn’t’ do it. Thus, could “my cross” be the burdens of the people in my world? It seems probable because Jesus calls us to practical, selfless love that follows his example.

So then, how do I respond to this command – do I even have a cross to carry? Of course, though by cross I don’t mean we purchase salvation for others. But instead – we carry their burdens by forgetting ourselves and taking up their greatest need. Jesus took up our most primary need, the need for a savior. And - He alone could carry it. So, what is the greatest need that we can meet for others? How can we practically meet the needs of those around us? We must begin somewhere…

How bout we follow the life of Christ: since Jesus bearing of our cross required his life and death, what about loving others requires something of us? Our salvation cost Jesus everything. For us, what is the cost? If we are to take up our cross daily, it must not always require our death, so we must be required to die to parts of ourselves in order to love others effectively. Do we need to lay down our pride in a given situation? Is God asking us to let go of our money? Would Jesus dare call us to forgive first, then love out of our bankruptcy? Could the Holy Spirit be prompting us to give up our right to personal time or pleasure in order that someone else might be relieved of their burden?

Dying to ourselves daily by carrying others' burdens points people towards the One who will carry their ultimate burden, Jesus himself.

Follow Christ up the hill as he carries your cross.

Who’s crosses will we pick up each day as we follow the Him along the Way?