the twenty-third year

Though the compass during this journey wavered, the shallow seas deepened, the once small mountains soared, the rivers split at every turn, the plains elongated, the yellow beaches whitened, the forest lost for the trees, the dirt roads paved, the concrete jungle intensified, the demographics smudged and cleared at the same time.
The topography once unknown now typifies the height and breath at this point in life. The map expanded beyond the geography of youth. The winds of change trailed at every turn. The next horizon - a daily occurrence more difficult than the last.
His map blurs/beautifies.

Organic Opus

Six hammers chipped away
Create accord, a symphony
Clinging and clanging
Though not yet on stage,
A room within, carving
Out the possibilities –

The possibilities impossible
Not to excite future
Symphonies ignited
Within the walls
A fire, fall initially sparks
A tree aflame, consumed not

A generation rhythmically
On key, in tune, dissonant
Pulsation, cultivating
Symphonic possibility

when the god head rolls...

I owe Melissa a chick flick. Friday afternoon we saw Ong Bak on the first day of its American release. Though she slept through a portion of it (loud go-cart chase - amazing) and I laughed through most of it, we both got our money’s worth (cause it was free with a gift card).

The movie centers around a village people who send a man, Ting, off to recover the stolen head of their village Buddha – Ong Bak. The story chronicles his ridiculous martial arts skills, in which he uses no strings or stunt men, ya – this guy’s good (the movie is probably best a rental though). While he’s off the village dries up and the people weep for their god’s head to be returned.

This struck me as crazy. The people truly worshipped an image. If wasn’t just offensive that someone stole their god’s head, but they were distraught and without hope or identity while the head was missing. It reminded me of the mascot rivalries. Like when the good ole boys of A & M steal Bevo or something or when the guys at UT killed the Revelie when they painted him. It gets the school down and reinforces the rivalry, but it isn’t what the people faith in. But the fact that in the movie, the stone statue was a part of the god embodied on earth made me cringe at the totally lack of hope in anything beyond what men can create and destroy.

The Baals of the Old Testament were a slap in the face of the Godhead because they were created by men to be worshipped by men. God’s anger and Moses’ anger against the Israelites was justified. Why settle for what is less? Why allow yourself to create an object of worship, rather than worship the object of your creation? One is simply worthy and one simply isn’t.

Thus, I’m thankful that my God is a mere statue made at the hands of men, able to be torn and stolen and cheapened. Even when I feel down and my God doesn’t seem to answer me, I can see beyond manmade images and look to the trees or talk to a beloved people or listen to inspiring music and know that God has not lost his control because the God I serve is a triune God of infinite complexity, perfect harmony, and joyful love that is inviting me to dance with Him in the beauty of his being. And for that I’m grateful.

Beyond Action-Jesus

(I wrote this friday evening: this is a long, be it abbreviated, post - but perhaps you’ll be inspired along with me)

My plea this morn (the post below this one) was met with simple, reassuring words that only the inspired Word can bring. The Lord’s challenged me in great ways lately (thanks largely to the writing of NT Wright) to read the Gospels with a new lens. This lens is to take my glasses off first and try to see what Jesus and the writer are doing by looking through their eyes. Mark unfolds a fascinating account of the life of Christ. He creates a marketable Action-Jesus, complete with push-button healing hand, a pull-string for teaching, and a coded message for demons (of course, there is so much more – but this is no infomercial). Mark’s Jesus has been speaking to me for a couple of weeks now as I slowly progress through this book. Today, chapter 5 reprised. Up to this point Jesus has been moving and acting fairly quickly. Mark’s account of his ministry has been fast-passed, but of course – rhythmical. Then the demon-possessed man, a bleeding woman, Jairus, and his daughter receive Jesus utmost attention; and Jesus heals of them appropriately as individuals.

But before we can understand the totality of the shift from the Action-Jesus of the first chapters to the three folks in need of healing in the fifth chapter, we must understand Jesus’ actions in the fourth chapter. This is Mark’s first extended treatment of Jesus’ teaching. After telling the parable of the seeds to the crowds, Jesus explains it to his disciples. He gives them the “secret of the Kingdom,” and yet they miss it pretty badly. We know they miss it because Mark is an excellent storyteller. He recounts Jesus calming the storm right after his lengthy parable explanation to the disciples. Mark tells this story not only to show Jesus’ power over nature, as we are taught from the felt board as kids, but also to show that knowledge never equates to faith. Even though the disciples knew more about Jesus than many other people did, they still jacked up believing and trusting and relying on him… Just like me. I’m just like them. I think I learn or grow or understand more, but I’m still quivering on to my small, sinking safety raft of self-sufficiency. And even though the disciples grow and learn quite a bit in one day, it takes several years for the birth of true faith, even to the point of death.

So that brings us to chapter 5. Mark’s been re-telling the story of Jesus like he’s Flash Gordon, but here – he stops – and reminds us that each person has a story of their own. And not only that, but that Jesus cares about each and every one of us. Jesus heart beats for the individual, as well as all of mankind.

The man with the demons inside him has sadly been outcasted from society. He has no control over his own body, but he falls before Jesus because thankfully even the demons know their God when they see him. And - Jesus exorcises. Demons flee. Pigs die. People marvel. (go ahead – at least whisper an amen from your computer! And no – I don’t care if you’re in a coffee shop surrounded by atheists…)

Jairus gets his name mentioned in the Bible precisely because he came to the person he knew could help him. Jesus wants to heal his daughter and begins to go with him when a woman, who is also a social misfit by no doing of her own, evokes Jesus power by her act of faith. Jesus considers this no small feat and stops amidst the crowd to reaffirm her publicly and to send her on her way “in peace.” When Jesus finally arrives at Jairus’ house, he takes the girl by the hand and affectionately refers to her as “little girl.” Thankfully, Jesus powerfully incarnates a personal God.

So – how does this relate to me you ask? “Do not fear, only believe (5.36).” Then I asked, “okay, what am I to believe in, Lord?” I sat. Perhaps simply believing that God cares for me just like Jesus did, the man, the woman, Jairus, and his daughter. Am I fearing that God isn’t going to provide or that his will isn’t being accomplished in my current position? OR am I “faithing in” God’s provision no matter what my situation? Don’t fear, just believe. That’s enough – belief that God loves me enough to provide for me, his beloved child.

So for right now - Thanks God for inspiring Mark to write in such a way that teaches me more about your Son through the work of your Holy Spirit’s conviction within me. AMEN.

and a smile

I wonder what I’m doing wrong
What I can do better
To show him that I’m stronger
Than this fetter
Of unemployed inadequacy
But then the emails reply
And phones ring me
To say, “you don’t qualify”
Which is great to hear
When you don’t care
But I do so much fear
My tortoise job-snare
Will leave savings depleted
And spirit defeated
Are the prayers wrong
Should I hum a new song
If so, give me which one
Cause I’ve lost the tune
Forgotten the right melody
Thanks to what seems like a tragedy

Lord, this be me plea
For provision from you
A possible job interview
Or some simple response
From a person or company
In need of a hire
That will bright new fire
Of youthful energy
and a smile

welterweight

The ring was warm when I slowly split the ropes. It still smelled like a sweaty brawl, to the death. Though that was to come. And it was, all quiet til she stepped in. Bell 1! For whom it tolls, must be my thoughts carried away. My corner screams, but bleeds into my ears is nothing less than she. Bell 2! To win, all I could do was lay down the gloves. Taking punches left, then right. I felt myself breaking a sweat. Then the final blow, a jab to my torso that bled internally. Bell 3! I had to die, despite unwilling will inside. Bell 4! Now dead – I finally relent to the flurry of images, ideas, irrationalities inside my head. Cut me… There was no choice when you get in a boxing ring with the bold, the deft, Mo Creativity.

A funny thing how I’m not a good writer. And yet – the words lose me in time and dreamless reverie of days gone by and yet to come, though not mine.

and I end up staying up all night… to fight. (4:42 AM)

perspective

a child smile
a polemical speech
a tattered glove
shifted

contrary, just a few degrees
to peer ‘round the corner, from my knees
and catch a small gander at the grandeur
my King in compassionate compare
my being’s a pittance fare
toll’s light, beyond failing foresight



today, i believe.

"poor" in "spirit"

it's a funny thing when you spend four years working hard to get a degree, only to try to figure out that to find a job what is really needed is "experience" or to "know somebody."

"funny" really means depressing and/or obnoxious.