new heresies...

apologies...

2010-02-16T17:16:00.000-08:00

i'm terrible at math

after the second grade i had to get private tutoring sessions to catch me back up with the rest of my classmates

because my second grade teacher had informed my mother that if i wanted to move on to the third grade...which i think was an admirable goal...then i would have to basically re-learn an entire year of elementary mathematics in a summer.

because, she said, math builds on itself and if you don't get this block
this piece
then you'll never be able to figure out division
multiplication
algebra
geometry
which means you won't get into a good college
you won't get a good job
you probably won't find a mate...and if you do they won't be able to add or subtract either
you won't be able to get a loan for a home
you'll sleep in your car
and eventually find your way back to the basement of your parents' house

seeing all this, my mom had me do math over the summer

because without addition
there can be no subtraction
without multiplication
is there division?

in math everything builds upon itself

for some of us we've been told that life, much like math, also builds upon itself

we age
we learn
we grow
we experience
we try
we fail
and we try again

sure...

we go to school
we learn to read
to write
to 'rithmatic'

and then we go to a bigger school
and then to college
and then we finally interview for that all important job

the one we've been working for our entire lives
the one our parents dreamed about before we were even born
the one that hovers over us like a cloud just waiting to pour

some would tell us that if even one of these steps along the way is skipped
rejected
or questioned

then life, much like math, all falls apart

for others of us we've been told that faith, much like math, also builds upon itself
and that without this doctrine
that belief
this view
that book
this idea

then it all falls apart...my guess is that you're starting to get the idea

so in response we construct an intricate framework of answers
responses
books
and ideas, which all attempt to counteract anything that might undermine this system

because, like we've said before, otherwise it all comes crashing down

(a slippery slope...if you will)

some call this the practice of apologetics
or the rigorous defense of a theory or set of beliefs

the only thing about this title is that we've failed to understand its full meaning
another person puts it this way: "regretfully acknowledging failure or regret"

what if:
instead of defending
demanding
and demeaning

we started apologizing:

for our commitment to a system that has more in common with pythagorus than jesus
for our inability to admit that sometimes we just don't know
for our inability to acknowledge that the world doesn't always make sense
and that sometimes not even God makes sense

or better yet, we even started apologizing:

for speaking in places and situations we were never invited into
for attempting to speak at all in moments that needed our presence rather than our words
for taking the place and filling the mouth of the one who by this point has figured out how to speak for himself

ultimately, our fear
our struggle to stay quiet is rooted in good intentions (there should be something here about paving a road) and simple mathematics

"if you don't see this, think that, and believe in these then how can you know anything about a way
a truth
a life
much less the right ones?"

this is the way the world works
a (plus) b (equals) c

this is the way faith works...most of the time

but there are those few moments...
like when he got sick
or she left
or someone said the word 'malignant'
or when the phone rang at 3am...that shatter every available explanation (or would it be better to say equation?)

maybe your experience has sounded a little like this:
"god has a plan"
"god is teaching you something"
"god is in control"
"don't worry"
"they're going to a better place"

and in those moments it's been my experience that what we need isn't a mathematician
to explain
to equate
to defend
or
to protect our faith with an ever ready response

(because often these responses reveal more about the insecurities of the responder rather than the hearer)

instead, perhaps all we need is for someone to BE faith for us rather than explain faith to us
to be quiet
to be sorry
to simply be...there with no agenda or explanation.

(because who really needs to hear that they are so stubborn that god, in order to teach them, has been forced to kill a loved one)

the only apologetic we should ever utter begins and ends
with i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm sorry...and so is the God of the crucifixion

and in these moments we discover that
we don't have to battle for the last word
or the best word
or the clearest word
or the most compelling word

because sometimes maybe we don't have anything truly revelatory to say
but the one thing we do know is...
that the God who lives with us
moves with us
breathes with us
suffers with us
and dies with us...also rises

open...

2010-02-11T12:22:00.000-08:00

there are some people that everytime they open their mouths i know exactly what they're going to say
they way they'll word it
the adjectives
verbs
and nouns they'll gather together to form what for them is a brand new idea

it doesn't matter how they construct it
how they position it
whether or not they change their intonation

i've already decided
my mind's made up

there's nothing new here

sometimes i make this decision without even having heard the person speak
but by the way they dress
the way they sit
the way they breathe
their tone
their pitch

i've already begun placing their voice
their perspective
will it support or undermine my own position?
will it challenge or affirm my own ideas?

"vanity of vanities...there's nothing new under the sun"

(ecclesiastes is the ancient version of one of those posters with kittens playing with yarn just above the word "perseverance")

for some of us this is our mantra
"i've heard it before"
"there's nothing new here"
"this is just the way the world works"

good times
bad times
all times

"we've been here before and we'll be here again"
there's nothing new under the sun

"God blessed humankind and said to them...be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth."

what if when God left the door of creation cracked he meant for us to fill in the gap
with our own creation
our own words
our own thoughts

and instead of bringing boxes we were merely supposed to show up, open handed

in order to imagine, to create, to speak things into being for the very first time

and maybe the most heretical thing we've done isn't to say things wrongly about God, but is rather to fear that we can

to fear:
the new
the different
the strange
the impossible

maybe this is why the resurrection is so compelling
because it invites us to see the new
the different
the strange
and the impossible...enfleshed
embodied

so, perhaps the question isn't have we heard this message before
have we asked this question already
have the right people okayed it
is it safe
is it right

but rather, are our hands and eyes open?
because maybe it's always been about putting flesh and blood on the breath that hovered over the waters
that spoke the world into being
and gave dust arms and legs

the breath that lived and moved among us
the breath that died
the breath that lives again and again and again

in outlining, defining, and deciding where truth does and doesn't come from maybe we've been missing the point of our genesis

"you can't think that"
"you can't say that"
"God doesn't do those sorts of things"
"there's nothing new under the sun"

just like...

"people don't rise from the dead"

if/then...

2010-02-06T13:54:00.000-08:00

if you (not that you're anyone because no one will likely read this) were to ask me: "eric, what do you do?"

I read books
a lot of books
more than i should

before i go to bed
and when i first wake up

some mandatory
some interesting
some compelling
and some terrible

i own too many books...but i always seem to buy another
and another
and another
and another (you get the idea)

if you were to ask me why i read
education
intelligence
interest
boredom
graduation

all of these seem apropos

but if you asked me again, with more force or insight
i might be honest

i want to be smart
why?
i want to be well informed
why?
i want to be successful
why?

because maybe then i'll matter
maybe then i'll transcend my shortcomings
and my failings

because maybe then i'll be someone of worth
someone of substance

and because maybe then i'll hear it
i'll believe it
and then i'll be able to sleep at night
and then i'll be able to handle critique
and finally, i might simply be free to be, whoever it is that am unapologetically

i won't have to posture
to analyze
to guess, to position
to hide
to wonder

in order to construct someone you can respect
someone you can admire
someone you can believe in

i can put down the book

but until then...i have another chapter to read

another grade to receive
another praise to hear

"this time it'll be true"
"this time i'll believe it"

just one more book
one more test
one more job
one more task
one more kid
one more relationship
one more prayer
one more confession
one more retreat

"this time i'll believe it"

who's voice am i waiting on?
who's praise am i anxiously anticipating?
who's hand do i wish to feel on my back?

"blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven"

perhaps instead it should read
blessed are the illiterate
blessed are the spiritual zeroes
blessed are those who screw it up again, and again, and again

why?

because they really see a need for God?
because they recognize how crappy their life is?
because they've finally seen the err of their ways and desire a change?

why?

because we've adequately convinced them that everything they were doing before was bad, and that now they should feel guilty in order for us to offer a remedy to take away the guilt they didn't feel before we got there?

or
is it simply because they exist
because they're breathing

IF...
i just finish this chapter
i can just read this book
i can just quit this
fix that
heal those
be them

THEN...
i'll matter
i can rest
i'll be free
i can sleep at night
God will join me, will speak to me, will love me

blessed are those who haven't read the right books
who haven't made the right choices
who haven't gone to the right schools
who don't believe in the right kind of God
or in any kind of God for that matter

blessed are the addicted
the ashamed
the guilty

because God's hands, and eyes, and hears are open...

if you exist
if you're breathing

then you matter, but even better

you're blessed

the peace of this God begins with an if, but we've just been putting it in the wrong sorts of places

what do you mean...

2009-08-14T15:17:00.000-07:00

"you know, you're right"

this statement reveals far more than merely the correctness of one position over that of another

it can be both a geographical location
or
the designation of a particular political ideology

it can free
or it can enslave

depending on how its said it can be
good
bad
or even ugly...

words are funny that way

it's almost as if they have more in common with stand ins...rather than the ones for whom they're holding a space
because depending on how you speak them
the emphasis
the articulation
the force
the glance or the glare behind and around the word

changes the meaning, the point of what we're uttering

how else can bad be good?
or good, bad?

how else can "i love you" mean anything but...love

perhaps in these instances what's important isn't the word, the place holder if you will, but rather who's doing the word-ing

in high school i had several friends who, for lack of a better "word", referred to one another as (insert the "n word")

how can a word with so much history, pain, degradation, shame, politic, and well, baggage, be spoken with such ease
such warmth
such grace?

so, being inquisitive, i asked what would happen if i were to use this moniker to address them:

in a word...pain

maybe it's always been about who's doing the speaking, and where they're speaking from...rather than what's being spoken

and maybe in the case of "right", and even "wrong"...it isn't the accuracy of these phrases, or even the baggage they carry with them that makes them so offensive
or so liberative

maybe its the baggage of who's doing the saying
of who's doing the "righting" and the "wronging"
that gives them their punch
or their pleasure

how else can "right" condemn, connote, criticize, or even create...

"you know what, you're right"
"i'm right"
"you're wrong...admit it"

i recently uttered and had these uttered to me as a result of, ironically enough, other words: and in light of this experience i came to some conclusions:

sometimes "i'm right" doesn't seem quite as impactful coming from clenched fists, red faces, and angry stares
sometimes "you're wrong" doesn't quite land how one might intend when spoken between rolled eyes, and huffs not seen since middle school.

sometimes "i'm a christian" isn't very freeing when everyone who's not is afraid to tell you
sometimes "Jesus is the only way" doesn't seem all that true when we say it with fingers in our ears, and eyes closed tight to the responses of those with whom we're speaking

maybe "you're right"
and
maybe "i'm wrong"

but maybe the fact that you're arms are crossed and there's spittle on your lip says far more than your angry stammerings are attempting to explain

some responses:

"the mediums change, but the message stays the same"
"it's not about how or who...it's about what"
"truth is truth; right is right; wrong is wrong"

sure
except, of course, when how we say something, when how we look, how we live, how we act, how we move, and where we speak changes the meaning of our words for those on the receiving end of..
our truth
our way
our life

"truth is offensive"
"the gospel is offensive"

sure
but why are you yelling at me?

all these words beg the writing of just a few more:

"why do we speak?"

for the sake of the message or its recipient? or better yet:
for the sake of the messenger?

maybe, in order to avoid or eliminate these incongruities, we should eliminate the mediums

like reading emails or letters
but maybe you respond to these like i do:

"what are they trying to say?"
"is that sarcasm, or are they legitimately angry?"
"did they mean to put that in ALL CAPS, and if so WHY ARE THEY YELLING AT ME?"

or maybe we were always meant to be the meaning of our words

because "love"; "right"; "wrong"; even "God" just don't mean the same without the medium
without eyes
without hands
and
without feet

so maybe we should stop asking what...and instead start asking how

or better yet,
who?

lost in the weeds...

2009-05-06T09:55:00.000-07:00

on fuller's campus there are two "social clubs"
one being the pasadena university club
and the other being the pasadena women's club

awesome is the word you're looking for

nothing says i'm in graduate school quite like almost getting hit by cars that cost more than you'll make in a lifetime on your way to a school that owns most if not all of your soul

the women's club shares a front lawn with fuller, as it is right between the school of psychology and faculty offices

the other day as i was walking to work i noticed that the women's club had constructed a white picket fence all the way around their patch of grass...that upon further glance doesn't look any different from the rest of the grass they had ceded from

the only difference was that it was "theirs"
and that the rest of the grass belonged to us plebians

again...awesome is the only articulation for this experience

now as i passed by this fence 2 or 3 times i kept wondering to myself...
does wilson from dennis the menace run the women's city club?
or
perhaps the club is just filled with truly desperate housewives
or
maybe they just needed to be right, to be different, to be better. and many times the best way to do this to build a fence

and if that's the case can i really fault them?

for fencing themselves in?
for separating?
for isolating?

fences keep dogs, cats, even dissent at bay
sometimes our fences become so tall that we have hard time remembering what it was like on the outside
kind of like prison

maybe the goal is to forget the things that linked you to the rest of the world, to root out those tendencies, those reminders of where you came from, and who you were.

i guess that's why we work so hard to protect and defend our answers
building the fence higher and higher so that once you've finally climbed to the top
once you've put in the work
the effort

once you've learned the vocabulary, not to mention the answers
because once you can finally see down the other side of the fence the strange realization rises inside of you: that you've seen this grass before

but you've put in all that work
you've climbed, and thought, and worked, and struggled to get over the fence and now that you have
it has to be different, it has to be better, we have to better
to make it worth the climb
worth the effort

"our faith is stronger"
"our book is true-er"
"our god is bigger"

...but unfortunately the only way that we've learned how to be right is to rope off
segregate
and prove others wrong

because if they're like us
if they're the same
and they didn't work,
didn't struggle up the fence...how can we be right, how can we be different, how can we be better?

how can any of this be worth it?

when faced with this dilemma we have two options:

one is to write off all dissenting opinion, in essence to remember why you built the fence the first place...to protect our grass

the other is to reject our effort, the fence, and most times, even the grass (even though we continue to be surrounded by it's presence)

but neither of these options really seems to satisfy, i guess that's why some call the resurrection the great, divine "neither"

what if, when posed with this either/or we simply answered "yes"

"that grass is the same as ours"...yes
"there's a reason i worked so hard to get here"...yes

instead of building
roping off
demarcating the boundaries

what if we expanded
encompassed
and with the spirit of this "neither" merely posed another question

not "who's in and who's out"
not "who's right and who's wrong"
not "where are you?"

but rather "where are you not?"

because from our vantage point, the grass all seems to look the same and maybe that's okay
maybe our job isn't to convince others that our grass is really inherently any better than theirs
maybe its more about showing that their grass
our grass
everyone's grass is really your grass

and that some are open to that more than others

ultimately when we embrace this kind of spirit we're okay with not knowing where the edges,
the boundaries, or
the fences are.

because we realize that's not our job...it's yours
and when you free us from trying to be or create you
we start to find and to see you in the strangest of places

in others
in ourselves
and

...even the pasadena women's club

the family business...

2009-04-09T13:38:00.000-07:00

my dad's a salesman
he's been one his whole life

his dad was a salesman
was one for most of his life

door to door
city to city
state to state

it's the family business

some of you are doctors
lawyers
accountants
teachers
coaches

and so were your moms and dads

once its in your blood
your DNA
it's almost as if anything you try to do to fight against the impulse
the urge
the pull...only wears you out

enabling the current to pull you out to sea

this is all we know...so we acquire the appropriate words
sentences
even feelings for our impending fate

"it's who we are"
"it's easier"
"it's safer"
"the path's well worn"

all the while we wonder if there was something else
something more?

"only the young have energy for thoughts like these"

and by thoughts you could probably just as well insert "imaginative frivolity"

so we buckle down
we focus
and we work

when we finally have time to pause and lift up our heads we discover...

that we're much older these days
that it hurts when we run
that the term "holding pattern" has been replaced with "career"

...that we look a lot like our parents

for some of us this realization is what we always wanted
that is to become the one we could never please

because maybe they might finally approve of what they see in us...themselves

for others the feeling more closely resembles what happens when elevators quickly rise without warning

...causing us to lose our stomachs again, and again, and again

it's in these moments that we truly define who it is that we are

for me i never wanted to go door to door or state to state

i never wanted to create need in another
i never wanted to sell myself
i never wanted to work on commission
i never wanted to convince
coerce
or cajole...anything

but when i look at myself in the mirror these days the questions rise up from the sink again
and again
and again

"am i a salesman?"
"am i a salesman?"
"am i a salesman?"

"let me tell you what you need..."
"god has a wonderful plan for your life..."
"you know that guilt you're feeling, well that's sin..."
"we've decided to go ahead with this building project so we'll ask you to faithfully give over and above what you're already committed to..."
"join..."
"decide..."
"confess..."

again

"am i a salesman?"
"am i a salesman?"
"am i a salesman?"

maybe...

but its these bathroom mirror moments that define us

...not yet

texas forever...

2009-04-01T19:42:00.000-07:00

i visited texas recently to see some friends and a wedding
not only did i see things blue and borrowed
but also longhorns on city streets, trucks with step ladders, and cigarette smoke...everywhere

i also ate mexican (twice), slept on a pull out sofa, and went to church
now i already have a hard enough time going to church these days...but texas?

two words...jim bakker

i just can't seem to get fired up for it anymore, church that is
maybe its the way it smells...like burnt coffee and hairspray

or the way it looks...like a castle or a business park

or even the way it feels...like a bad concert where everyone loves the band...but me or like those first few days of class in undergrad where they spend the full hour talking about the scientific method

or maybe i've just been having trouble with the fact that church these days ends up coming off more like a pyramid scheme where everyone's already invested too much to pull out...desperation rather than inspiration

lately it just seems to me that we're all keeping at it in hopes that maybe we'll mean it one day
or that we'll feel it
or even that we'll smell it

sometimes it feels like we're trying so hard that it doesn't matter what happens
and that it doesn't even matter that nothing we're doing or feeling is normal (maybe the absence of feeling is more accurate)

so to avoid these types of moments we spend more
we shut our eyes tighter, raise our hands higher, we might even take our shoes off in an effort to rekindle the fire
the flame
the feeling

and it struck me as I was sitting there in a texas church that looked more john eldridge than st. john
and listening to a pastor i didn't agree with do what i've accused more pastors of these days than i care to admit...that being: "violence to everything i believe in."

being cynical is always a lot of fun...

it's kind of like the time i watched dodgeball the movie with several of my friends
and as they sat there laughing all i could think was "these people are the reason that America's Funniest Home Videos is still on the air"

now you might say "i like that movie"
"ben stiller is hilarious"
obviously you're wrong...so were my friends

maybe all those afv voters laughing hysterically around me just understand good comedy...i doubt it

maybe i'm too serious to admit it...closer
maybe i'm too smart for my own good...or maybe (in reality) i'm not that smart to begin with

and maybe all those people filing into those castles and business parks on sunday know something i never will

maybe they mean it
maybe they feel it
maybe they even smell it...although it's hard not to, burnt coffee smells like someone shoved a cat into a toaster

and maybe i'm the only one getting duped
but i just can't seem to mean it
to feel it
to know it

so i cross my arms and roll my eyes...waiting on divine conclusion to yet another disappointing sunday

but then a smile creeps in as i watch them laugh (for the record ben stiller isn't funny...this is a metaphor)

i smile a little more (why is he throwing wrenches?)

i even start to laugh a little bit...but instantly judgment creeps in

"this isn't funny"
"these people don't know comedy"
"the royal tenebaums, now that's comedy"

but why is it that these people all seem like they're having a lot of fun...whereas i look like i have to go to the bathroom on an airplane

so i let go, if only for a moment:

and i laugh, and laugh, and laugh

and i overlook the cliches, and the cheesy delivery, and the overplayed soundtrack

...even the big hair

and in doing so i start to realize that i always did like movies like these

and that the audience is made up mostly of people i consider my friends

i'm glad it took a trip to dallas (the city not the soap opera) for me to discover that maybe i'm the one whose boring
or fake
or trying too hard

...now that's comedy

"2 coffee cakes...but hold the oatmeal"

2009-03-04T11:15:00.001-08:00

dependency has many faces

ones that seem functional
ones with 5 day stubble
ones with 3 kids, 1 shoe, and no bed
ones that when serving them biscuits and gravy ask you for "2 of the coffee cakes, but without all the oatmeal on top."
ones who eat off of trays long after high school...and ones who hand them out

seeing these faces is like reading the spines of books on a library shelf...passing over some, lingering on others

once one's been chosen you, somewhat disappointed, discover that the thesis is strangely familiar
maybe in different garb, but the same foil
the same plot
the same ending....

plastic trays
plastic spoons

if these stories are all the same
if these books have all been written

is there anything left for us to read?
to learn?
to try?

"i've heard this before"
"i've seen these faces"
"i've read these pages"

"i just couldn't quit..."

"and then she took my kids away..."

"i had nowhere else to go..."

"i'm blessed..."

wait.

flip the page back over

"i'm blessed..."

that's what i thought i saw

you eat your meals in segregated plastic cells containing applesauce, biscuit, gravy, and sugar
quite a skid row of breakfast foods

you won't sleep inside tonight, even though its raining
you haven't seen your wife and kids in 2 or 3 years

"i'm blessed..."

we can explain this
we can keep flipping through the pages
we can skip this paragraph
we know the ending

"of course you're blessed, you were starving, and now you aren't"

"once you eat, and shower, you'll read the end of this story and choose the appropriate emotions to fit the conclusion"

despondent
broken
quiet
angry

happy simply to eat and return to these responses

like, the biblical text says, a dog to its vomit

its strange, when our eyes pass over these spines, and we flip to the back we ultimately find an ending
but not to the story we expected

"i'm blessed"

not theirs

"_________"

ours..."i've heard this one before"

the same foil, but maybe in different garb

"i just graduated"
"i just got married"
"i just bought a house"
"i just had to follow my heart"
"i'm sorry"
"i had to work late"
"she just understands me better"
"it's not your fault"
"i don't have any change"

we flip back through the few pages that make up this strangely familiar story
looking
searching
hoping to see it

"__________"

maybe when i look out from behind the lunch counter glass at all the books dusty and used
they see the same thing i do

a written ending
a tired plot
a decided life

and responses to fit these conclusions

anxious
arrogant
maybe even a bit delusional

they might even be looking for the same book we are
searching for a new word
a new story
a new way
a new truth
maybe even a new life

"i'm blessed"
"i'm blessed"
"i'm blessed"

and maybe as we refuse our own endings
our own conclusions
our own vomit

we allow and invite others to do the same, even though their stories might not start from the same place ours do

so as we hand trays out
or eat off of them

as we sleep in beds
or in streets

"we're blessed"
"we're blessed"
"we're blessed"

and ultimately because we are...so are you

i guess that's an ending of sorts
a conclusion...or maybe just a hanging preposition to...

something new

turn the other cheek

2009-02-20T13:47:00.000-08:00

i'm currently reading Walter Wink's "The Powers that Be" and its really pushing my conception of societal structures and their role in both holding back and perpetuating evil...

thus representing both the fallen nature of humanity and human society generally, as well as the great act of redemption awaiting all things not just people

in order to subvert, and ultimately redeem these invisible powers (which are manifested according to Wink in everything from corporations to boy scout troops) is to engage in nonviolent resistance thus refusing to continue what he calls "the domination system".

Wink's most lucid and convincing work is in his discussion of Jesus' "submission commands" in which followers are exhorted to "turn the other cheek, give up their cloaks, and walk the extra mile"

submissive
frail
meek
mild

these make sense for anyone reading the gospels

but complicit?

in our acceptance of domination
in our quiet submission to its practices
in our encouragement of suffering in all forms (even if this suffering is "redemptive") are we to blame for the continued use of violence, oppression, and degradation by the powers?

in telling women to return to their abusive husbands again
and again
and again

are we to blame?

in telling women to return to the margins of Christian society again
and again
and again

are we to blame?

in pushing back from the world
in condoning military endeavors of all kinds
in articulating our salvation as an act by God to satisfy his bloodlust
an act that saves us not from flames or hell or pitchforks

but from God himself...and his raised fist

are we to blame?

Wink argues that when Jesus exhorts us to take a blow on our right cheek from our oppressors what he is arguing for is not complicity and continuation of a violent structure undergirding all society, but is rather expressing our role as creative, nonviolent resisters to the powers of domination and violence in the world.

the left hand is the only hand that can strike the right cheek
the left hand was never used in this manner but was rather reserved for the more important tasks of bathroom maintenance

try to punch someone's right cheek with your right hand...impossible

the only blow that someone could deliver with their right hand to the right cheek of another is that of a backhanded slap
denoting a blow not of violence, but rather inferiority
like an abusive husband gives to a spouse
or to a child
like a slave owner gives to his slaves

"give to him the other cheek also"...

equals don't get slapped...they get punched
so in turning the cheek we remove the power that the one delivering the slap held over us
forcing them to either grant us black-eyed equality

or to relent altogether

the same is true for nakedness which is what would result from the rich taking the inner and outer cloak of a peasant
in jewish culture to be naked was to bring shame not on yourself but on those who witnessed your nakedness

see noah and ham in Genesis 9

nakedness exposes far more than bathing suit areas
it exposes the ridiculous nature of a system that sees the wealthy not only taking the land, but the very clothes off of the backs of peasants...

there's a sharp contrast between a man holding land, money, and clothes juxtaposed with the stark nakedness of poverty

something
is
wrong with this picture

the same is true for walking two miles instead of only one

roman soldiers had the imperial right to demand a jewish person of any social standing to carry their 80-90 lb. military packs with them for one mile

kind of like a mule...see the example of Joseph carrying the cross of Jesus up to Golgotha

but this right only gave the soldier the ability to enforce their labor for one mile
two was thought to be cruel and would result in a litany of punishments for the soldier who violated these practices

everybody's got standards

these soldiers could be flogged, have their rations reduced, or even be forced to sleep outside the safety of the encampment

"don't just walk one mile...walk with them two"

maybe wink's just doing violence to the text
maybe jesus always meant for us to choose one or the other

the one being flight
the other being fight

maybe life is always supposed to result in us becoming what it is that we hate
whether we hate cowardice
or violence

but maybe in turning the cheek
in becoming naked
in walking two rather than one...we expose
we subvert

and maybe, just maybe, we redeem

because in exposing rather than becoming what we hate we might finally embody the true nature of the cross

one that doesn't condone violence
one that doesn't allow death to rule
and one that removes the only thing the powers wield with authority...fear

and one that believes in a resurrection
and a redemption...of all things

even those who nail their dissenters on crosses

"as a _______"

2009-01-29T10:24:00.000-08:00

as a southerner...i'm hospitable
i care about college football
i use the word "mud-flap" on a more than consistent basis (okay not really)
and i've peed outside

as a white male...i'm apologetic
i say "african-american" even when my african american friends tell me they like "black" better
i read the ny times
and i have a beard

as a husband...i'm apologetic (okay not really)
i don't leave my apt. after 10
i spend a lot of my time in sweatpants
and i'm never lonely

this is how we usually begin our sentences
with qualifiers
with identifiers...

that alert the listener that they can either join my self identified position (as a fellow southerner, for example) or take a marginal position of difference in the conversation (as a northerner, for example) in which they either cannot relate to the words proceeding my identification

or don't want to

this is how difference works and it colors most of our conversations
about geography
about politics
about religion

about everything really

and so in an effort to achieve a "critical mass" of diversity
or in an effort to root out all difference...we search for those who can't join our positions

to enlighten
or to oppose

to exalt
or to demonize

but ultimately, never to harmonize

that's why conversations that always begin with
"as a ______"
aren't really conversations at all (monologue is the word we were searching for)

and that's why any time someone chooses to transcend a position
a place
an origin...we're at a loss not only in our efforts to place them and their commentary, but our own as well

if there isn't a democrat...can there be a republican?
if there isn't a black...can there be a white?

if there isn't a christian...can there be a non-christian?

maybe this question is irrelevant
we all have a culture
we all have a place
we all have a time

but maybe, if only for a moment, we suspend our judgment
our "identity" (that which is rooted in culture)
and choose a new point of reference

a new center, one that doesn't result in marginalization...
of conversation
of commonality

but rather congruency

and in a rhetoric riddled with noise (white and otherwise) we might find a voice
an ear
an audience

rather than an opposition
an enemy

you're a republican...but you also have fingers
toes
eyes
breath

you're black...but you also like italian food
family
friends
and blue jeans

you're not a "believer"...in christianity, but rather in people
in art
in science
in the earth

and maybe in beginning in the grey
rather than the black
or the white

in the divine "maybe"
rather than the yes or the no of culture
race
politic
and religion

we might find more color than we ever imagined
"red, yellow, black, and white..."

we're not the same
but we're not that different

i guess that's what the resurrection was always about...
opening the door of the in-between

and in sewing up the curtain...
in creating sides

did we choose correctly?

the eve of epiphany...

2009-01-06T15:08:00.000-08:00

i have a friend who recently admitted to being an alcoholic

and by admitted i mean "forcefully put into jail for DUI"

obviously it was not his/her finest moment

in speaking with my friend just after the accident words like shame
guilt
pain
and regret obviously came up

you see my friend is a christian
has been for a long, long time

born into a christian home
with christian parents
always attended church, in lesser and greater degrees, but church all the same

"what happened?" is an appropriate response
"they had too much to drink and then decided to operate an automobile", would be my answer.

you probably meant, "no, where they went wrong?"

but i think i'd rather answer where they went right
because in my friend's family there is a history, a pedigree
of pain
of shame
of guilt
of mistrust
of all things that go with a christian upbringing in the south of the 1960s

an upbringing marked and ruled over by an angry god determined to punish any and all for anything from bad grades and messy rooms to drug use and murder

my friend's god used a lot of biting remarks and put downs to get his way
their god seemed distant and uninterested when he returned from work
their god watched a lot of tv
and never spoke aloud of "those things" with an apprehension unrivaled by many, except of course Harry Potter

this god alienated my friend from their children and spouse
this god bestowed upon my friend a guilt/shame complex that has successfully sabotaged much of their personal and professional life
this god demanded adherence, and punished without remorse
this god got my friend to a small jail cell in the midwest in the middle of october

"i thought you were talking about where they went right?"

my friend is an alcoholic
my friend is awaiting a judge's decision about their fate
my friend underwent and is continuing treatment for their addiction
and my friend still believes in god

albeit not the one they grew up with

throughout their treatment my friend has been asked to analyze what got them to this point?
their response...alcohol

the response of those overseeing treatment...everything else

when my friend first entered treatment the program they went into sounded like the beginning of a really bad joke
a jew
a buddhist
a catholic
and a baptist walk into a bar...well maybe not the last part

and throughout their experience they were asked over and over again which "god of their understanding" contributed to their restoration and redemption

in the beginning my friend would militantly articulate that jesus is his god, and everyone else's and that jesus alone would provide healing

as an evangelical...i can't really argue with that

but as treatment progressed my friend realized that his "jesus"
the one they could never please
the one who was always silent at dinner
the one who not only requires militant and fearful adherence from my friend, but from everyone else in the room
sounded a lot like the other "gods" in the room

and as my friend listened
as they watched
as they talked
and as they replayed their history from the first day to this one
they seemed to realize that the god they had been trying to please all along
the god that they had, out of respect to psychological health, tried to ignore with anything from sheer will power to the alcohol that resulted in their situation currently

was the very same one that had enslaved everyone else in the room
maybe with a different name
a different vocabulary
but with the same guilt
the same shame
and the same result

and in light of this "epiphany" of sorts my friend began to realize not that all gods are the same
or that jesus isn't the only way
but that the way that his jesus and the other respective jesuses in the room were leading was the same place...

treatment

and the jesus that my friend met in the stories, the words, and the eyes of people who would have formerly deserved judgment, death, and condemnation
now seemed a little less angry
a little less removed
a little more real
and maybe a little bigger than before

i like my friend a lot more now as an alcoholic awaiting trial far more than i ever did as the "upright christian citizen" they were months before

not that i love what brought them to this place
or what they have had to discover about themselves
their family
and their history
or the pain and time it took them to get here and that which remains ahead

but rather that when i look at them
at their addictions
their faults
their history
i see far more than an addict deserving of condemnation
or a disinterested parent/spouse with a mild-drinking problem

i see someone who knows who they are
who knows where they came from
and knows where they're going...for the most part
and when i allow the first picture to inform the one i have now, the jesus that my friend now claims is one i'd like to get to know myself

one that never gives up
one that never stops loving
one that never stops redeeming
and one that uses addicts to restore the sober, rather than vice versa

"it's not the healthy who need a doctor...but the sick"
my only question is...

which one of us is sick?

happy holidays...

2008-12-10T10:59:00.001-08:00

"happy holidays"

few things incite our ire as christians in December more than these two words...

"happy holidays"

we respond vehemently in response "that's not the reason for the season, Jesus is! suck it!"

i added the suck it part...or did i?

some churches have responded to the systemic sin that is generic holiday well wishes by writing to their congressman
(who is definitively not a woman, unless we're talking about vice presidential candidates) regarding the protection of "merry christmas" as a national phrase in hopes of "protecting" the reason for the season.

because as we all know, "happy holidays" is a direct result of the fall

so, on nov. 28 we took our collective voice to the streets
proclaiming the reason for the season from the hilltops...with a resounding "cha-ching" heard from dayton to darfur

as we protected "merry christmas" by militantly and resolutely spending more in one day than nations accrue over an entire calendar year

"merry christmas...now give me my $800 plasma tv"
"merry christmas...make sure to tell your family i'm sorry for trampling your helpless body under the "feet" of those bringing good news"

"happy holidays"

this is the only phrase that can stop us in our tracks
forcing us to remember...why we're different

as we push and pull and fight for that last iPod

why we're different

as we go deeper and deeper into debt so that we can justify to our kids why we never see them during the week

"i know i haven't been there...how bout a laptop?"

we're just different

instead of looking down at the goods draped over our arms juxtaposed with a barn and a baby we respond in anger at the one reminding us of our difference

"you've forgotten the reason for the season...hold on! i have a coupon for that one"

i have a friend who militantly defends the sabbath as the most sacred of days
he refuses to work on these days
he refuses to plan on these days
and he speaks about his adherence with those kind of tones that can only convey one thing...condescension

but the words following his piety sound a bit strange..."do you want to go out to eat after church?"

maybe in fighting against this phrase
this pluralistic response to Christianity, as i've heard it defended
we're attempting to resolve something far more dissident...

the incongruities between the "reason"...and our actions
our purchases
our hand in what's become of this holiday

we rail against consumerism and commercialism, but we seem to forget our hand in the opening of stores on sundays and 4am on friday as we trample employees for cheap tvs

forgive us
forgive us
forgive us...for forgetting

maybe this is all we know
because in our vicious rhetoric against those who would wish us the happiest of holidays we do what christianity in the last 100 years has always done
alienate and disassociate

maybe this is why we've learned to praise the paradoxes in our faith
"it's about grace...now change everything"
"it's about love...unless you're gay"
"it's about peace...unless you're an arab"
"it's about a God born in a barn (rather than a temple or a palace)...now seriously, give me my tv"

and maybe this is why our churches become lonelier and lonelier every year
because we remove the spirit
the joy
the love
the family that those outside our faith share with one another over the "holidays"...out of respect for the "reason"

no wonder there's no reason to investigate our claims for a new way
a new truth
a new life...because the life they see in us is one filled with just as much s***(stuff) as their own

just with a different vocabulary
and more anger

so this holiday season instead of fighting for a word
a phrase
a statement...

what if we joined the only God i know great enough to choose manure over "mammon" on christmas

and in the sweet aroma of a barnyard rather than a palace we might find true salvation
not just from flames and pitchforks

but from needing more
and more
and more
and more

and in affirming the "reason" with how we spend
how we love
and how we give ...rather than angry letters

we might save more than just ourselves

sweaty sucker sticks...

2008-12-04T10:31:00.000-08:00

i have a friend who isn't afraid to make the statement and suggestion to those outside the Christian faith to simply read the bible, and ultimately through an engagement with the biblical text, a conversion or paradigmatic shift will occur

simply from the words on the page
and the spirit behind them

i have another friend who fights militantly on behalf of the biblical text being seen not only as authoritative, but also inerrant.
he (an obvious personal pronoun for this type of belief) would assume that the bible is the only reliable word from God, with emphasis on only, and that for true conversion to occur an adoption of this belief system would not only be likely

but necessary

in parroting my friends in this way you might assume that i have some sort of fresh word regarding the bible's marginal position in my own belief

on the contrary

i wish to rescue the bible from the position thrust upon it by recent, and not so recent, evangelical belief regarding its role in Christian conversion, belief, etc.

with the views of my friends squarely in the forefront of many churches
pastors
adherents
and non-adherents

one might assume that to question the bible's role in conversion would be to question the very spirit it hopes to imbue upon all humanity

and the son, man, god that embody it most clearly

but to assume that one simply read the bible, and that in this reading: no matter where one sits
or where one is from
or where one has been
or where one is going

to assume that there is no difference in a "christian" reading of the text,
and one otherwise defined as a "non-christian" reading

might be asking to much from a book, even a really good one.

the bible as evangelism
the bible as gospel

maybe a better way to phrase this...

the bible as god
the bible as spirit

without it's inerrancy
without it's deific status
then jesus didn't die on the cross
then jesus didn't rise from the tomb
then god didn't liberate slaves from egypt

ultimately this protective hedge around the text results in a militant sensitivity to any questions rendered against it

the "it" being god

because bible, jesus, and god
(in this understanding)
ultimately become the same word
the same idea
the same belief

and thus must be guarded with the same vehemence
like a 3 year old sweatily hanging on to a gooey sucker as they stumble around the backyard
despite the fact that the stick is covered with dirt
and grime
and well, life

kind of like our book
or our god, depending on where you stand

i would argue that the majority of our problems is that we don't know when to let go
of the sucker stick (or to realize what the stick is covered with before we put it in our mouths...)

and the bible...but not in the way you might think

some attempt to toss aside entirely
to throw out the baby
the bath-water
and most of the bathroom

resulting in a faith based on human potential
personal experience
and individuality

the bible is you, and you alone
no before
no after
no history
no story

instead seeking the divine "here"
the divine "now"
and ultimately the divine "me"

my friends are just as guilty of this kind of bibliolatry
its just the reverse
a different kind of fundamentalism, but a fundamentalism none the less

using words such as inerrant
infallible
the only "true" guide
the only "true" tale
the only "true" word

i'll grant them this position
with maybe one caveat...which one?

which story?
which reading?
which interpretation?
which word?

often a response to these questions usually takes the form of "well, this is what the bible says..."
the only advice i can give you if you ever hear this sort of phrase is to

run...fast

the bible never says...we do
god does
the spirit does

i know what you're thinking...that i don't believe in the bible
but on the contrary, i love the bible
the book
the story
the "word"...but when its used as a path
as a signpost to something greater than itself...the first christians called this path the way

rather than a club
or a "sword"... i always cringe when people use that kind of imagery
because ultimately when the text is wielded in this fashion violence does in fact occur

to us
to others
even to it

because forcing upon this beautiful story a role it was never intended to play
a part it wasn't prepared for has resulted in us constructing a wall
a hedge
a fence around where it can go
and ultimately, around where God can go (and really, from where God can speak)

but by allowing it to be a source
a reference
a guide that illumines us to the mysterious movements of the divine

rather than forcing divinity and perfection upon it
(like a kid dressed up in a white sheet on halloween...i can see the nikes underneath the costume)
we might finally free the text from our grasp and our expectations unmet and otherwise

maybe this was always going to happen to us
maybe this is why it happens so frequently to the nation of Israel

we have to see something
we have to touch it
we have to know it
we have to control it

because without this tangible expression of something that was never intended to be bound solely by pen and paper
by ink and parchment
we're lost...

maybe that's why its so scary for people to question
to push
to pull...on our book, on our god

because if it starts to unravel...so do we

and we have nothing left to stand on
nothing left to appeal to
nothing left to swing at

maybe this frightening position was the one we were always supposed to be in...speechless
serving, articulating, and illuminating a God that is bigger than a book
than a word
than even a name (or a gender for that matter)

and in pointing to the silence
to the deep
to one free from shackles of language, time, and fallibility (in its truest sense)
maybe we (and others) might truly believe: because there's no convincing necessary

because our God stops looking like he'd fit right in at Caesar's Palace (or Trump Towers)
and instead is free to move
to speak
to be in, around, with, and through everything...including the bible

and because our book stops having to be an encyclopedia
or a textbook
or a tract
and instead is finally allowed to be a story...rather than the one the story's about or
a phone...instead of the one on the other end

maybe in this moment our book is finally free to breathe outside our sweaty grasp
free to illuminate
free to speak within a time, a place, a moment
free to be interpreted
and free to point to something bigger than itself...a spirit, a way
that pushes us to something more than the story can offer
to a time beyond the story
to a world beyond the story
and ultimately allowing us to become a people dependent upon the spaces in between words
rather than the words themselves

spaces filled with a truth
a way
and a life

spaces that allow us to see who the story's ultimately about: a God
a Son
a People
and an Earth...coming together

so does the bible save us?
does the bible convert us?
or does the bible read us, insert us, and move us toward the only one who can?

legos and home improvement...

2008-11-20T17:32:00.000-08:00

i'm terrible at fixing things
today i was dusting some sort of decorative block that hangs on our wall and i knocked one of the nails out and it took me around 15 to 20 min to hammer a nail into the already existent hole in the wall

so far i've been able to skirt by any sort of major project as a husband...seeing as i've only been married for a little over a year
but seriously, is there some sort of manual you get in the mail when you become a man, because i'm gonna be honest
i live in fear of the moment that i have to take something apart and put it back together.

i was thinking about this fear late last night
the fear of taking something apart, breaking it down, getting it to its most elemental state

a state at which it can still exist but at a considerably smaller degree
like lego pieces of a pirate ship scattered on the floor

for example: is a human a human because of skin?
or because of skin cells?
or because of flagella?
or because of atoms?
or quarks?
or strings (possibly?) holding the quarks together?

for years we've been trying to discover the "building blocks" of life, but it seems that this study is more like swimming in a really deep body of water rather than looking under a microscope
the more you push down, the deeper you dive...the murkier it gets, and the only thing you end up finding are more pieces
more parts
more legos

i can't dive down very deep...i used to have tubes in my ears

in school we're taught to do this with everything,
frogs mainly, to discover what makes a frog a frog?

take it apart
cut it open
dissect

what's left?

mostly regret for cutting open a dead animal...
but also the ingredients, the guts of what makes a frog a frog

supposedly

we apply this science, this worldview really, to more than just unlucky amphibians
but to english
to math
to history
even to faith

we break it down
push it
pull it
cut it open

we have to find out what's at the bottom
what's the sticking point
what's the essence
the source

what number, what year, what word, what phrase unlocks all the others
ultimately,
what's the line in the sand?

that's the goal

so for some of us searching within the depths of faith it means uttering phrases about a cross
a man
a god

are there any words we're missing?
maybe infallible
inerrant
where does it stop?
which phrase produces eternity?

maybe there's something to the ambiguity of our study
the struggle with the part defining the whole
the wheel defining the car

but i guess that's not what we're really in the market for
we just need to know who's in
who's out
and what informs these positions

because without the phrase
the belief
the utterance we don't even know where we stand, let alone others

so for some its not important how
why
or even when jesus lived

for others it's not important what happened after the dying (we love the dying)
because he already took the bullet
he already took our place
we're done...

but questions arise
questions that can't really be answered by frog science

questions that gnaw at why we keep doing anything after these very specific words have fallen salvifically out of our mouths

why do more
why do less
why do anything

we're there...

some respond with muffled statements about "maintenance" or remaining in "right relationship"
but relationship for what...we got what we wanted.

"signed, sealed, delivered. I'm yours"

they might answer that heaven's not the goal...
but then why did we make it the goal initially?

why did we push this phrase so hard and often on others?
why did we convince the world that the things they were doing previously were bad and that if they didn't allow this bearded man 2000 years ago to step in front of the speeding bullet with their name on it then...you do the math

i'm convinced, let him take the bullet
i'll move on with my life
you move on with yours...but don't forget to mark another one in your "win" column

problems arise when you push against this definition
this atom
this quark of christianity

when you say that the "gospel" is more than words
more than a phrase
more than a sentence even...or a maybe even a paragraph

when you say that this news really is 'good'...but all on it's own
even without the installation of created needs
and fears

its scary because the lines get blurred at this point
we can't see the black
or the white

how do we know
how do we know
how do we know

maybe in boiling down all things amphibian and otherwise to a single element
a single part
a single belief we end up missing the forest because of the trees

we end up missing that hell is here, now
and
ironically enough...so is heaven, in a way

we even end up missing the point of the death, which really seems to be
about a resurrection
a transcendence
a new way
a new truth
a new life even.

a strange thing happens when you start to move out of a sentence-sized faith
jesus seems a lot bigger
and so does his way.

i find myself having more time these days to look around
to listen
to feel
and maybe even to believe

because i no longer have to look over my shoulder to make sure no one's unraveling the curtain between the wizard
and the kid from kansas

and in this realization i feel more strongly than ever about the truthfulness of my path, which has and will always be his path.
a path that worships a life, a movement, a man, a God, a new creation
rather than a sentence
a word
a belief

and a path that allows the gray
the tension
the murkiness to inform the faith
rather than vice versa

and in the inability to touch bottom
to find the word or words that succinctly sum up what it is that we do
or why we do it
i find more truth than i ever did in science class

i rest easier these nights
but not because my questions have been answered

but because i'm still able to swim
to search
to think
to breathe
to feel
and
to follow even without a good description of the destination

so instead of breaking down
and slicing open

what if we joined
what if we built
and
what if we opened our arms to something more than our words can explain or describe

because otherwise this news wouldn't be his, and it wouldn't be good.

first things first....

2008-11-14T19:15:00.001-08:00

generosity is a word that's been on our lips quite a bit recently

both in hopeful anticipation...and apocalyptic fear

the interesting thing is that those who are most fearful
who are most reticent
who are most angry

and those who are most hopeful

are not those i would first expect

because those clamoring for "justice"
for "righteousness"
or for plain "hard work" to win out...stand diametrically opposed from their beginnings
from their roots
from their genesis...both the book, and the beginning

and those for whom generosity has been a fleeting experience stand with hands open
arms open
and wallets open

what's happened to us?
who's side are we on?

maybe a better question would be who's side is He on?

In defining ourselves by our work
by our effort
or really by the results we receive from these

have we missed the point?

In defining ourselves as righteous
as holy
as straight
as pro-life

have we missed the point?

and finally in defining ourselves as those with healthy marriages
and healthy kids

have we missed the point?

because to those on the outside of our self-designations we seem a little less...

holy
straight
healthy (both our marriages and our kids)

In defining our faith as a particular
as a goal
as a product of something else (outpouring is the word some would use) have we missed the point?

maybe we haven't
maybe jesus always intended us to fight militantly on behalf of babies unborn rather than those wasting away in foster care
or maybe when jesus said don't kill...he just meant except muslims

or maybe we have
it could help to explain why we fight so hard against a re-definition of a word that we never really upheld so well ourselves
or why our war on family values hasn't affected many families on the right side
or why there's just as many abortions today as there were 8 years ago...maybe more

in defending
in defining
in designating these as what it means to follow you, have we lost our way?
our truth?
our life?

and in light of our inability to uphold the definitions we thrust upon others...how can we expect any other definition than the
one we deserve

hypocrisy

maybe that's why truth can only exist inside rather than out...because otherwise, they'd be right

and we'd be wrong

so in response to these labels thrust upon us by the outside
we fight harder, and harder, and harder to be the types of people we want them to be

we keep pushing, and pushing, and pushing our kids to be the types of people we want them to be

but we quickly discover that fighting never produces peace
and that pushing never draws anything near

maybe when jesus said "seek first the kingdom of heaven (god)" he meant it
and maybe in seeking aspects of his kingdom...rather than the kingdom itself...we're the ones to blame

so when i say generosity is part of our story
part of our roots
part of our genesis...what i mean is that the bible defines god most commonly as generous

and it also defines his people, his bringers of the kingdom, in the same way

"you're blessed...to bless"
"you're loved...to love"

and finally
"you're wealthy...to give"

so when we expect people to pay for what they get
to pick themselves up by their bootstraps
to earn
to produce

who's side are we on?

when we kill
when we oppress
when we hoard
when we slander
when we push
when we hate

who's side are we on?

and maybe that's why we have such a hard time believing
and following

because when God says he is most commonly identified as gratuitous love and grace
then what that means is that he is most present among those who need it

so when we cry out for justice
for fairness
for what's right

God hears and answers...those who need it

and maybe as we move closer to these types of people
as we "bless" them
as we "love" them
as we "give" to them

other things seem to work themselves out

apologies...

2008-11-09T19:56:00.000-08:00

i find it strange that only for those whom opportunity
wealth
status
or maybe just a chance...has been freely given to

are the only ones we hear crying out for justice...

but not for those without

but rather for those with...everything

it's their fault...
that i'm in college, and others sleep in their cars

it's their fault...
that i want a new ipod, and others haven't and won't eat today

it's their fault...
that i have a job that covers far more than rent, and others wait outside every morning for something that might feed their kids...today

maybe it is their fault
maybe drugs
maybe drink
maybe something else

but then again, maybe it's just as much their fault as it is yours that you grew up in the suburbs
or that you were born white
or evangelical
or conservative...wait, that probably is your fault

or maybe it's something else...

it seems to me that there's something inside of us that forces us to believe that what we have is because of what we've done
or
that where we are is a direct correlate of who we are

those without = lazy, or bad if you like
those with = hardworking, or good if you like

this explanation seems especially plausible in light of the fact that we just spent 700 billion dollars to bail out individuals who are extremely honest and hardworking
or why kids from private schools never do drugs
or why kids from christian families always believe

it also holds up when we analyze the other half...
like a mother of 3 in berkeley who works full time and sleeps in her car...i hear she can be a real witch with a b

broadly this explanation for life always holds up
we point to welfare
we point to drugs
but one thing we never point at are individuals

because it's always easier to hide behind cheap metaphors regarding unearned GPAs and faceless statistics

maybe this "theology" is all we have to explain life, because without it we can no longer resolve the dissonance between how we live and how others live.

capitalism is always unquestionable...for those profiting
retribution (divine and otherwise) is always right...for those prospering

i guess that's why our grace always comes with a promise to do better
or to try harder

and why god seems so pissed to so many people...both christians and otherwise

so, in closing, before you rail against the dissolusion of capitalism
and the destruction of republican morality...think about what kind of car you drive
or where you live
or who you are

because sometimes complaining about justice actually gets results...but not for those we always hoped would receive it

neither...

2008-10-16T17:13:00.000-07:00

i go to a school some might categorize as "progressive"...whatever that means

but whenever i hear terminology of this sort i always try to ask..."to whom?"

because regressive to some is always progressive to others
because right to some is always left to others
and
because liberal to some is always conservative to others

why do you think maps are so hard to use?

because they always start from the perspective of the person drawing the boundaries
or charting the waters

"the far east"
"the land down under"

again

"to whom?"

self-imposed labels are about as effective as those imposed upon us by others

"i'm pro-choice"
"i'm pro-life"

"i'm an elephant"
"i'm a donkey"

ultimately when we take these robes, these designations upon ourselves we discover that "jack-ass"
is the only one truly descriptive of our location

and by that i meant democrats and republicans

i've been reading through the book of joshua which seems to be one of the most frustrating books of the Old Testament
genocide
ethnic-cleansing
oppression
degradation
war

and that's from the israelites

why?

then in the midst of these actions..."Once when Joshua was by Jericho, he looked up and saw a man standing before him with a drawn sword in his hand. Joshua went to him and said..."Are you one of us, or one of our adversaries?" He replied, "Neither; but as a commander of the army of the LORD I have now come..."

when presented with the question of either/or
with black and white
(even red and blue perhaps?)

neither
neither
neither...was the response

is god on our side?

again, it depends on your perspective

to some he's "right"
but to others he's "left"

to some he kills
to others he heals

to some he's peace
to others he's war

to some he's not a "he" at all...

maybe the questions we've been asking this november have been from the wrong perspective

instead of asking which side god is on, maybe the question was then...
and still is now

whose side are we on?
right
left

or the divine "neither"

and by choosing the answer in between the options presented to us maybe god becomes more than a justification
for choices already in motion

more than conclusions foregone?

and when we ask "where" god is...it becomes far easier to discover where we are in relation to the divine
rather than allowing our own self-designation as a christian determine the presence of the one we seek to follow

as opposed to leading

maybe we've been missing the point of why jesus always described himself as the way

a way away from false binomials
and a way free from being our own truth, our own way, our own life

so this election season choose...
but whatever you are
wherever you are
whoever you are

may or may not be what god is
where god is
or who god is

...just because of self-definition

maybe instead of asking who this november...we should simply ask where
and follow the command of the divine center

"neither"

grow up...

2008-10-09T15:40:00.000-07:00

"the kingdom of heaven (god) is like a mustard seed which a man took and planted in his field. though it is the smallest of all your seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and perch in its branches."

elections bring out the best
and the worst in all of us

morality
economy

these are the two that receive most of our attention
granted they aren't often mentioned in the same breath...

but rather, two very distinct ones
disconnected from each other...

much like those in red states
those in blue
and all those meandering in-between (i guess you might call these migrants lavender?)

choice
life

these too exist in a similar vain
a similar antithesis

right
left

with these options many of us find ourselves
choosing between which hand will push our heads down
less underneath the water...

rather than pulling us up in the midst of wind and waves

is this what our novembers have become?

antithetical, to say the least

forcing us to ask the question of who are we more comfortable killing

those unborn
or those abroad?

those on wall street
or those on MLK blvd.?

someone has to die
someone has to lose

and ultimately...we have to choose

i find myself less interested in these paradoxes this november

whether they be red and blue
black and white
rich and poor
or
even life and death (or should i say choice?)

i realize these are the options
i realize this what is politics have become

but for me instead of either/or
instead of the lesser evil...i think its more a choice between which hand to grab

the one pushing down
or the one pulling up

and the hand i choose refuses (ironically enough) to be colored in
by the red or the blue
by the black or the white

and the hand i choose refuses to condone the death of some over the death of others...
whether they be foreign
or domestic
whether they be living
or soon to be

so what does this mean for those of us choosing this hand,
this way (as some have called it)?

that we don't vote?
that we don't choose at all?
that we choose the red or the blue...because one seems a little less unthinkable?

no

but rather that we transcend the question of color altogether with the one who's hand has a history of
pulling people out of the water in the midst of a storm

(and the one who responded to the question of death with a transcendence of his own)

...and in this transcendence we don't allow the winds and the waves to blow us back and forth
but rather we, as followers of one capable of directing the weather rather than predicting its path

...blow and blow and blow
by choosing freedom for us and for others...individually
by choosing life for us and for others (both foreign and domestic)...individually

and by not expecting the tree to come before the seed

and in allowing our faith
our love
our lives to blow the rhetoric of false paradox to somewhere (or should i say someone?) new

we might discover along with it a new way
a new choice
a new path

but..

"it's too hard"
"it takes too long"

so we keep planting trees where the ones before have died...and waiting on the birds

but the strange thing is, is that the birds are the only ones who can tell the difference.

maybe this is why jesus described his movement (or should i say revolution?) as a seed
...rather than a tree

should we (as those choosing his hand over others) expect anything different now?

are we to blame for the options we bemoan every 4 years or so?

and in staring at the sky waiting on the answers...in dark suits
or in giving up altogether
have we ignored the one command we were called to in the first place?

to plant
to grow
to change...everything (not just everyone)

...and justice for all

2008-10-07T15:54:00.003-07:00

i'm in seminary...which means that i'm training to be a professional christian for the rest of my life.

depressing...i know

anyway in light of my future vocation...and, ironically enough, my commitment to the god i hope to spend
the rest of my life mis-understanding...i was reading psalm 3.

and in this psalm, which is attributed to david but let's go ahead and be honest, we don't know who wrote it, the author
is expressing a deep dislike for how god, in this case Yahweh, is handling the fact that in his words "many are saying to me there is no help for you in God"

this is a more frequent theme in the psalms than most care to admit:
anger
depression
loneliness
sickness
hopelessness

the psalms are a real fun read

but towards the end of this psalm is where the author really lets his (or her?) true colors show
..."rise up, Yahweh, Deliver me, O my God! For you strike all my enemies on the cheek; you break the teeth of the wicked."

this sounds great...especially in light of the previous 4 verses above that are almost over the top with their trust and confidence in Yahweh's action and love.

my first response in this moment is to write this off as yet another Old Testament anamoly
a pre-Jesus response read in a post jesus context...these people just don't understand god.

this is how most of my "professional" colleagues would and have responded to this occurrence

but more than likely my colleagues would probably skip over this section...which is also an effective response especially in light of their beliefs regarding the "infallibility" (they would say) of the text.

but ultimately we're still forced to ask the question, "what the hell do we do with something like this?"
or better yet..."can you even ask or pray something like this as a practicing christian/follower of Yahweh?"

the minute i ask these questions i'm reminded of some of my more "outspoken" colleagues among the professional christians who in opposition to the supreme court's continued support of roe v. wade continually pray for the death of court justices...again, awesome.

i would like to pose an alternative reading...if i might (all 3 of you reading this are doing so voluntarily so i guess you're okay with it)

i think he or she (the author) is not only expressing a honest thought regarding those who would oppose him or her (which i appreciate in the utmost, especially as it appears in the grand story of divine/human interaction)

but is also taking a brave (although misguided) step...relinquishing the right to exact justice.

because in asking Yahweh to pick up the sword...we (or should i say the author) must put it down

even though i don't affirm praying for Yahweh to punch wall street in the "moneymaker" (pun-intended)

i do affirm relinquishing my desire to do so

because ultimately (even though it's still ridiculously ugly) when we relinquish justice (or to be honest, revenge) to Yahweh
something happens

maybe not wars
maybe not our wishes
maybe not even the justice we hoped for (because many times we're the ones who need our cheeks smacked)

clarity
resolution
and freedom...from being Yahweh

because when we allow Yahweh to be Yahweh, and for us to be, simply, us
the world is set right

both for us...and for others

and maybe in the raw honesty of anger that only accompanies injustice (both personal and corporate) our role is not to strike
not to kill
not to hate
not to destroy

...but to speak out against injustice (both personal and corporate)

because, as the author closes..."Deliverance belongs to Yahweh; may your blessing be on your people"
and for those of us in the post (or current depending on how you look at it) Jesus faith tradition

we might change our understanding of "your people" to something a bit more appropriate for our context
..."all people"

almost...

2008-09-25T13:59:00.000-07:00

evolve
move
grow
advance
adapt

------
change
------

i'm glad that as christians we oppose the idea that creation ("the created")
rather than the story describing that which was "created"
can no longer change
adapt
or manage to fit the surroundings in which it finds itself

frozen in time
stuck some would say

those same individuals might accuse our faith of looking quite similar to our paradigm of earthly advance

...stale is the word you were searching for

i find this line from the very story we use to define our version of determinism interesting to say the least

"and God said, let the land produce living creatures according to their kinds...and it was so..."

God gives a similar charge to humanity

"be fruitful and multiply and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it"

it appears that if the one thing God not only expects, but demands from both creation in general

and humanity specifically...is evolution
change
adaptation
growth

these demands are strangely divine...as well as darwinian

and in our rejection of growth
of evolution
we've ignored one of the greatest aspects of following "the Creator"

...the ability to mirror his/her creative genius with our own

maybe this is why we've been relegated to the corner of almost every great philosophical/intellectual/social/global issue
and why these problems continue to outlive the humanistic, modernistic, postmodernistic plans for absolution

because in our rejection of one of the greatest commandments in human history

we've not only lost our relevancy...but we've abandoned the world we were always supposed to love
care for
and create within

and in a recapturing of what it truly means to grow, to change
to create...we follow the way of one who creatively challenged our conceptions
of death
of life
and of power

and in following his resurrection
his re-creation
his creativity...in response to the powers of death, oppression, and wealth

we understand what it means to not just believe in jesus
and his death

but what it means to follow jesus
in his resurrection
in his adaptation

...in his evolution from the world of black and white
from life and death
from kill or be killed

to an existence that was strangely both divine...and definitively human
we're not stuck
but we're not there yet...

los angeles...los angeles...

2008-09-24T11:28:00.000-07:00

we love LA...

the way we spit and sing and sway
underneath the lights

our makeup runs
our lips crack and bleed
as we force smiles in the light of the sun (it seems so close)

do you see us?
do you see us?

do you notice?

we push and push and push
for our turn
for our chance
for our moment

to be seen
to be heard

will we be ready?
or will our voice be too soft
too old
or will we discover we had nothing to say to begin with

we've been waiting for this moment so long its all we know how to do

it seems strangely safe here in the in-between
we grace the minds of middle-america far more frequently in this stage than the one we always fight to step out on

this life does something to us all the longer we live it...(aside from the fact that few would call this living)

i find myself scurrying and scampering around this city with the mice of the in-between

rushing...for what?
running...to who?

we wait
we wait
we wait

maybe that's why we never stop
maybe that's why this city sleeps less than new york

because when rush hour ends
when the lights fade
when winter comes

we all realize something in-between breaths shallow from the haze

...that we hate LA

see/hear/feel...

2008-09-02T11:55:00.000-07:00

sometimes i have moments where god seems pretty small (both in size and personality)
meek
insignificant
quiet...maybe silent even

it seems more often than not that in these moments god is mine and no one else's
he exists for me, and me alone
he sounds like me
he even has my eyes

is he me?

because the people he's opposing and condemning are the very ones i've devoted my life to standing in contrast to

is he me?

because the words, ideas, and phrases that fall so sweetly out of his mouth sound like good news...but only to me

is god one who exists only to exalt an ethic
a belief system
a way of thinking...over others?

are my conversations about who he saves and who he doesn't
what he does and what he doesn't do
really just feeble attempts to prove i'm right

or really...that others are wrong

when he's mine...is he yours?
when he's here...is he there?

maybe in defending
maybe in tightening my grip...something slipped through my fingers

not my conviction
not my passion
not even my belief

...maybe that's why i'm afraid to open my hand

because the only god i'm holding on to is the indention my fingers leave as they burrow deeper into my palm

but maybe if i live with my hands
my eyes
and my ears open god becomes far bigger than my ability to articulate
defend
or define him

instead i find i spend more of my time looking around:
watching (not the sky)
and waiting (not on lightning)

but on something that appears far more frequently than divine thunderstorms

...humanity

because when my hands
my eyes
and my ears are open they're free to see/hear/feel god

...everywhere

in you
in me
in all of us

and the irony of this whole realization is that i find myself pointing my finger at people far more frequently these days

but not in response to the question of where you're not...but rather where you are

when i choose to live this way my fingers seem a little less sore
and my jaw loosens a bit

but my resolve strengthens rather than relents

not because i'm finally right
or that i've finally won

but that we all are
and that we all have...in a way

here and there...

2008-08-18T06:20:00.000-07:00

we win
we win
we win

we cheer as we steadily and swiftly advance over the bodies of those far less fortunate than ourselves

we win
we win
we win

we cry as we smirk at those who must accustom themselves to the pangs (or should i say flames?) of defeat

we win
we win
we win

we scream louder and louder over the noise of those crying out for freedom from their cages of poverty, oppression, and prejudice

we win
we win
we win

we whisper softly to ourselves as we try to fall asleep all the while attempting to resolve the dissonance we feel between our comfortable bed and those on the floor

we win
we win
we win

we repeat over and over to those that lie bloody and broken beneath our fists

is this what you had in mind?
is this what you wanted?
is the only way we can win is if others lose?
is that winning at all?

is that why we spend all of our time, energy, and passion making sure that others lose?
that others die?
that others cry?

because if they win
if they're right
if they're true
if they're good

...then how can we
be right
be true
be good

what if instead of stamping out
or trampling over everything on the outside of our divine explanations

...we embraced
...we acknowledged
...we expanded

rather than contracted

and in doing this we created new explanations and definitions
rather than contradictions
...or enemies

and in simply acknowledging the good
the true
and the beautiful
...everywhere

maybe god finally becomes (both for them and us) more than an excuse for arrogance
self grandiosity
or
crusades both old and new

more than a victory (or should i say battle?) cry...for some

and instead god finally becomes a new kind of explanation
not for destruction
degradation
or oppression

but for how good can be both here...and there

and in recognizing, affirming, redirecting even
rather than denying
we might see that we were right all along...

not because others are wrong
or because we've got no one left to fight

but because we no longer have to convince ourselves or others of victory
instead they see it
and hear it

both in us and themselves

we win
we win
we win...and so do you

maybe this is why the first christians called this news "good"
because it was good news for everybody...not just them

today...

2008-08-18T05:48:00.000-07:00

i don't believe in jesus because of heaven or hell

i don't believe in jesus because i'm willing to do anything to get to one destination rather than the other

i don't believe in jesus because of tomorrow or even the day after that

i believe in jesus because of today

because if i don't love
see
or hear today

...will i tomorrow?

i'm pretty sure there's a heaven
...i'm not so sure about hell

but even if i'm wrong that doesn't change the fact that i don't talk to my dad all that often

or that i'm selfish with
my money
my time
my ideas

and that arrogance permeates almost everything i say
forcing me to judge what people believe
and why
and how

...and that's just within my own faith tradition

today
today
today

maybe when jesus healed
and taught
and walked
and believed

he was doing more than saving us from one giant esoteric bonfire
but instead
maybe he was saving us from the most dangerous people we know

...ourselves

because maybe in becoming
poor
peaceful
weak
meek
and
mild

he helped us see that there's something bigger than us

...and that we aren't it

and that once we finally free ourselves
from deciding
from avenging
from judging
from mandating
well...from being god

we end up discovering what the life of jesus (rather than his death) was pointing us to all along...each other

and in the discovery of each other a far greater mystery seems to unravel itself...

who are we?
why are we?
...the one we lie awake at night trying to answer

who is he?
why is he?
...and the one whose place we try to take again, and again, and again

you know what maybe there's a heaven
and maybe there's a hell

but maybe when i let god make that decision instead of me
i find i have more time for the only day jesus called me to believe in...today

i believe in jesus because i don't have the answers to my questions
i believe in jesus because i love and am loved...today

and i'll worry about tomorrow or the day after when those days become this one

because some days look like heaven
but a lot more end up looking like hell

so i'd rather spend more time with my eyes down here rather than up in the clouds
or down in the flames

because i think it's what jesus would do and is doing now...
here...
today...

harmony

2008-08-15T08:25:00.000-07:00

we're from so many directions...
north
south
east
west...and all those in-between

after these brief moments spent together in a place where you feel like you can touch God

we'll return
to jobs
to school
to family
to friends
to something
or
sometimes to nothing

but for 2 months in the summer we're singing the same song
in the same place
at the same time

at different volumes, pitches, and confidence levels...but the same song nonetheless

maybe up here its easier to make out what connects us to one another rather than separates

not geography
not identity
not ethnicity
not even pitch

my belief may look different, feel different, be different
but up here among the trees and the wind it doesn't seem to matter as much as it did in the noise and heat of the city

maybe because i've finally stopped trying to write my own song
my own version
my own sound
and instead of talking about it, describing the music
discussing rhythm patterns and pitch tonality
i can finally take a deep breath...

one of those where you think your chest might explode

...and sing, and sing, and sing

its strange that once you start singing
you spend less time trying to separate
to delineate
and more time trying to integrate
your song, your sound, your pitch, your rhythm

...into the one playing softly all around us

i'm not the same
but
i'm not different either

i sing the same words
but
at a higher pitch and lower volume

maybe that's what makes harmony so beautiful

not the similarities...but the differences

..."let us thank him for our food"

2008-06-10T12:08:00.001-07:00

"god is great
god is good"

go to any church in america on sunday and you'll hear these phrases uttered...

i had a conversation with a friend the other day and he asked me if i thought god was arrogant for always asking
or in his words "demanding" people to worship, listen, or follow him.

"and then he gets mad at us for being arrogant..." as he put it

this raised some interesting questions for me
what is "good" and are the things that
god says
god does
god demands from us

"good" because they're performed by the divine
or
because they fit an abstract or esoteric definition of what it means to be "good"?

if its the latter this raises a whole set of new questions:
where did this "good" originate?
has it always been here?
ingrained in our being (or psyche if you like), slowly, invisibly guiding (or judging) our actions as they come up against its
all-encompassing standard.

or did it merely develop over time based on our various experiences as individuals and cultures- answering the question: "what's right for us in this time, in this place"?

but the way that we talk about justice, about fairness, about "goodness"
the way it's always on the tip of our tongue when that invisible line is crossed (whether it be a border, a congressional bill, or a hurtful word)...leads me to believe that this idea of "right/good" is both outside...

influenced by culture/time/location
influencing culture/time/location

...and within us

the interesting thing is that these seem to be the very same words or illustrations people use to outline the divine:
pre-existent
all-encompassing
within
around
invisible
maybe even on the tips of our tongues

bringing us back to the original question: is god arrogant/selfish for asking us to worship him?
and
is god "good" at all for doing/demanding certain things to certain people that wouldn't necessarily fit our
'inborn' definition of what is "right" or "good"

aside from stuttering and filling the silences with mumbled "uhhh's.."
i stammered some sort of response about how god is good...god doesn't do good

which for most of us (including me) sounds like a little chinese takeout wisdom: "fortune befalls those who work in patience"
(i made that last one up...no lie)

sometimes those kinds of statements take a little time to sink before they really mean anything (not the fortune...that's total crap) but unfortunately most of the time they become more helpful for me than for those posing the questions

i live vicariously through the questions of others

god is pre-existent/good is pre-existent
god is worshipped/good is worshipped

but more importantly: if god is indeed good, the ultimate good, the ultimate ethic of human existence...
then when he calls all of us to his person i feel like its based out of a desire for redemption
rather than desperation...or validation

because ultimately for us to be a part of the good, part of the ultimate ethic for humanity
...in short, for us to be truly human...is to follow this way

so no matter what our ideas of good are
no matter how dirty
how broken
how skewed they become

there's a center, a point of reference, an ultimate humanness that has and will always be...both there and here
both back then and now
both outside and within

whether we call this "god" or "good" doesn't change the yearning inside all of us for redemption
for justice
for hope
for "right" in others and ourselves

other questions arise...can this "good" be done outside of god?
the obvious answer would be no

can this "good" be done outside of christianity?
the obvious answer would be yes

then why do we continue to speak in contradiction...or in the words of my friend, arrogance?

"god isn't there..."
"god isn't that..."
"god hates..."

we've filled your mouth with so many words
we've filled your head with so many thoughts

(are they yours?)

we've made you Our god, Our good, Our ethic
and we've removed you from the ethics/the good of others...leaving them only a trace of your essence

like when you're trying to think of the perfect word...but you can't seem to remember
"it's on the tip of my tongue..."

forcing them into the corner we've painted for them and ridiculing their efforts to climb out, to find the edges

"if only they knew the truth"
"if only they knew the way"
"if only they knew the life"

maybe that's why god looks so arrogant to my friend these days

...because he looks more like the ones "good" always seems to oppose rather than the ones bringing news that was always supposed to be...well, good

...for everyone

"god is great
god is good"

when we make him anything less than what he has and will always be
he stops being god...and our news stops being good

...for anyone

fill our mouths with your words...even if we don't agree
fill our heads with your thoughts...even if we can't understand

did we paint you into the corner we've confined others to?
and when asked about the "good" in all of us did we point to you...or to ourselves?

i believe...

2008-06-03T13:28:00.000-07:00

lately i've been thinking a lot about "belief"
what it means...
what it is...
what it requires...

primarily, what its based on:

what i mean by that is, is our belief based upon "right thinking" or, in short, on being "right"?
is this what it means to believe?
is belief synonymous with fact?

therefore, if we're wrong...if what we believe is incorrect, does that mean we don't "believe"?

is that why we spend so much of our time trying to "tie up loose ends" within Christianity?
...like the inerrancy/infallibility/unquestionability of our bible
...like the proliferation of schools that teach "our" history (is it God's?)
...like the application of the term "christian" to every aspect of life we find ourselves involved
...like the bastardization of metaphor, simile, family, and friend in the service of the gospel (is it God's?)

it seems as if we're trying to throw a little credibility on top of our "belief" these days
solidifying its reputation in society, as well as our own

"it's stupid not to believe these days..."

in our system if God is a fact to be known, a formula to be applied, a creed to be pledged...is it necessary to "believe"
or should we start terming it "know"

"know God..."

it's interesting that when i read Mark i can't seem to get past the "belief" of those that followed Jesus step for step...

"Peter answered him, You are the Messiah/Christ...(just a few lines later)...Then (Jesus) began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again...Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him but then Jesus turns and looks at his disciples, rebuking Peter and saying; Get behind me Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things."

"You are the Messiah/Christ...but you can't die, can you?"

This was supposed to be a massive moment for Peter, he was a disciple, one of the first, following the visible Jesus every day for an uncertain amount of time (it was a good while)
...yet he couldn't comprehend the magnitude, the depth, the challenge that comes with following/believing in Jesus

Mark's ending is my favorite..."Go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you. So (the women) went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid."

"You're a man, you died...but now you're alive?"

can we, 2000 years later, propose to "know God"...fully?

can we, 2000 years later have our own image of Jesus, of God, of religion, of society, of everything we've ever known destroyed...and still follow?

or do we believe in what we "know" about God...rather than God?

"we've progressed so much since then"

is that why we spend more time knowing how to defend God, how to fight on God's behalf...then how to listen?
is that why we build schools to keep the corrupting powers of secularity at bay?
is that why we spend more time identifying what we aren't, rather than what we are?
is that why we're still responding the same way Peter did...2000 years later?

"surely not there...surely not that...surely not them...that can't be who you are"

maybe that's why we're dying out these days...like never before

maybe because we're wrong about a few things...and if we've built our belief on "right" how can you stay when you're not?

maybe we should recapture what the disciples spent most of their time doing while following Jesus...listening
to him
to each other
even to those outside

and maybe in hearing all of these stories swirling around about God, about Jesus, about religion,something happened...
not the appearance of a book that answered all their questions
not the building of a school that kept divergent opinion in the corner
not even the creation of a society that protected their rights above those of others

...faith (belief if you like) but their's looked a little different than ours does now,
it wasn't in what they could understand, what they could "know"

...but in exactly what they couldn't
it seems as if the only thing the disciples ever seemed to figure out about Jesus, was that they couldn't completely understand him, but that one thing they could do was listen...and try.

maybe when i say these days that i believe in God/Jesus...i should clarify
i believe that in listening to others...ultimately i hear God
i believe that in seeing others, being around others, serving others...ultimately i see God
and finally, i believe that the minute i say i understand God, the mind of God, Jesus, whatever...he stops being real, he stops being God

because ultimately when we "know" instead of "believe"...the only thing we end up knowing or believing is ourselves

"i believe...that i'm not you"
"i believe...that i'm wrong sometimes"
"i believe...that it's okay for me to be"
(and)
"i believe...that the questions make you real, not the answers"

selflessness...

2008-05-27T14:07:00.000-07:00

"just be yourself...just be yourself...just be yourself"

this is the mantra we all seem to live by...

the only question i have is, which one?

what makes me who I am? what defines, describes, or depicts me?

is it my skin, my face, my hair, my eyes?
is it my clothes, my likes, my preferences...
who i like
what i like
where i like them...or why

which self is it?
the one who believes in god, what he/she/it looks like
what god likes, dislikes...and why god does or does not.

the self that believes in god seems to be pretty similar to other selves
but instead of a god with a pale complexion and adult acne
he's korean, or black, or a muslim, or a jew even...

maybe the fact that I believe this god has a son who is strangely both god and not god at the same time
and that this son, through a painful afternoon and brighter morning, allows me to know the aforementioned god
...who, rather strangely, looks like me and everyone else.

is my self unique?
am i a christian? an american? white?

what am i?
am i an elitist? a moderate? or just arrogant?

what am i?
am i a human? a son? a husband? a follower?

so which self is it...at which time, for which reason?

is there a center, a point of reference for all of my selves to cling to as they spin around inside of me,
crashing into one another as they try to answer the questions that fall back down from the ceiling at night...

is this why my voice sounds like a crowded street?
is this why i can't figure out what i want for dinner, or lunch
where to live...or why
what to do...or why

"just be yourself...just be yourself...just be yourself"

do you define me...if so, where's your voice?
where's my 'self'?

is it within all the selves speaking at the same time...disjointed and loud?

or is it holding them together as they spin, keeping them loosely connected inside of me?

sometimes it seems as if the multitude of identities warring for my attention compliment each other quite well
keeping me free...to be

if i'm just a man
just white, just american

how can i be a son, or a husband, or even a christian?

could i answer the questions?
could i meet the demands?

the fluidity of my 'selfhood' keeps me sleeping most nights...attesting to your creative abilities

its just the nights i don't know which self to put on, which self to listen to, which self to be...that i lie awake in the dark
as if the darkness itself could quiet my "vibrant" personality

its almost as if the ambiguity inside us forces our eyes elsewhere for an identity
whether it be the selves of others, or nuanced versions of our own

sometimes none of these answers seem to satisfy...i guess that's why we become so desperate:

"just be yourself...just be yourself...just be yourself"

"which one...which one...which one"

sometimes i wonder if i can believe...sometimes i wonder if that 'self' fits... but then i realize that the problem isn't you...
it's the fact that the only version of you i have is within me...rather than above or around or outside of me

you hold us together...with fluidity

you allow us to be...without forcing your identity onto us

but sometimes we need more than just what's within us
sometimes we need a force that does more than keep fragmentation at bay
sometimes we need you to tell us who we are, to color the diversity of self that spins around inside of us

we need you to define us
to depict us
to color us in...ultimately to see what we can't, and to give us the freedom to be whatever it is that floats to the surface

because all of its you...and me

"just be yourself...just be yourself...just be yourself"

covering the silences...

2008-05-22T14:20:00.000-07:00

you're so creative...i'm not impressed
you're so innovative...i'm not enthralled

"let's find a new way
a new path
a new vision"

change is our oil
and you're our canvas...as we drip and draw all over your stark frame, slowly coloring you in

is this our purpose
is this why we're here...to draw, to imagine, to create

maybe...

sometimes when i start to write your name or draw the outlines of your face...i end up with another's altogether

my own

sometimes when i listen to your voice...
when i articulate your spirit, your heart...
when i love, when i laugh, when i cry...

i feel as if I AM speaking, instead of YOU

your shape, so illusive
your spirit, so fluid

that when i draw, when i sing, when i live...it's as if the only picture of your face, your voice, your life i can create is my own

why do you decorate the dust, allowing it to parade as the wind
why do you fill the glass, allowing it to masquerade as the drink...or the point

only we could make this mistake
only we could be so naive

i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm sorry...for offering salvation

i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm sorry...for drawing others to myself

i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm sorry...for parading as you

to sleep at night we tell ourselves that you're invisible
that we're merely outlining the divine
and that this is what you always intended

what have we done?
who are we saving?
where are you...why are you...who are you?

i'm afraid to write these days...to articulate the words floating around inside of me
are they yours...or mine?
how can i be sure?

i'm tentative to step, to speak in your name for fear of my own...will i ever be able to tell the difference, should i even try?

my arms grow weary these days, from holding up the curtain i hide behind
as i spin your wheels, pull your levers, and push your buttons...all the while keeping the crowds entertained

is this why i struggle to believe you don't need me
is this why i struggle to believe my own words
is this why i struggle to believe...period

because it's hard to be impressed when you're the one running the show
because it's hard to be afraid when you're the one under the sheet
because it's hard to be amazed when you can see the wires

why do i live this way...as if you can't speak, as if you can't move, as if you aren't real
is it because i'm afraid you're not

or is it because this is the way we've always been taught...to believe

what if we stopped
what if we walked out...and pulled the curtains hiding the smoke machines, and our unbelief
what would we find...if we stopped talking, if we stopped playing, if we stopped singing

the silence is frightening...but as we wait, as we listen it becomes deafening, oppressive even
is this where our faith has been hiding...behind the smoke and mirrors of our advertising

what if we stopped selling ads?
would we survive...would you?

or is the silence the only thing sustaining us, the only thing reminding us that we aren't you
and that in attempting to create you, to fill your place with us, to fill your silence...the only voice we can hear, and the only face we can see is our own

we have to recapture the moments unscripted, the songs unsung, the words unspoken
the times we can't explain...because in our attempts to explain, to draw, to paint, to illustrate the divine, we fall far short

this isn't the problem...
the problem is that we don't recognize that we're out of tune or out of touch
so we build bigger, more expensive curtains...with advanced technology, better strings, or music, or paint
all the while covering the silences attempting to sustain, to speak, to live

i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm sorry...for hiding your face

i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm sorry...for talking over you

i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm sorry...for taking your place

balcony

2008-05-06T09:17:00.000-07:00

sometimes you just have to stare out into traffic...
sitting in the sun
in its warmth

to feel like a part of humanity
like you exist, and that people can see you sitting quietly
looking out at them voyeuristically from behind the peeling green paint of the balcony bars lining your dilapidated apartment complex

watching, waiting, listening...
to the dots and lines bustling underneath

sometimes this is the only bible i can read
the only prayer i can pray

because sometimes its the only religious artifact i can see, feel...and believe in

i believe in feet crossing a busy street on their way to so many places
appointments
and engagements...but where will they end up?

i believe in the leaves rustling on the tree branches outside my apartment
shaking
billowing...whispering even, but i can't ever seem to make it out

"i feel like you're laughing at me...are you?"

i believe in the sun that forces my hat down lower on my brow...
the same one that in a few months will consume my thoughts as my pale, bare chest lays under its rays
reminding me why i try not to go outside...and reminding others that i rarely do

"i feel like you're yelling at me...are you?"

why can't i muster this same kind of conviction when i need it?

is it because the sun and the trees i see on sundays aren't whispering
or blowing
or blinding...my eyes

its almost as if nothing feels real in those places claiming to contain the thing more real...than anything else

--but--

the feet walking around don't seem to be going anywhere but around the block
the trees aren't rocking and blowing as they once were...they just seem cold without all their leaves
the sun seems more like my flashlight dusty and unused under my bed..unable to even illuminate my one room apartment

does this mean that you're still there...like you are on my balcony?

if so, why can't i seem to convince myself...or anyone else for that matter?

sometimes i feel guilty out here on sundays...but strangely it doesn't feel much different from the cavernous breaths i take inside the originator of my guilt

"sometimes i don't want to go back, and i want to take everyone with me...to spend a quiet morning on the balcony
...with you, the trees, the sun, and the traffic"

"i guess i can just see you a little more clearly from up here..."

(untitled)

2008-05-01T14:56:00.001-07:00

goateed ghosts wander these hallways, khaki pants swishing and swashing as they glide against one another. the braided leather belt is pulled tight, as if to keep the pleats from falling all the way through the floor...

these ghosts congregate together speaking a language foreign to most,
clanging and clamoring over one another for the one thing high school never offered

their 'ologies' seem to float in the air like a thick heavy smoke...choking all the unfortunate ones below as they scramble like mice underneath the haze for the shafts of light and oxygen that manage to pierce the fog.

its so thick i can't seem to breathe, to see...why i'm here
i guess that's why we chase the light that filters in...like a window allowing us to catch a glimpse of clarity

of blue sky
of reality

when i come across these moments i try to breathe deep, before diving back in to the smoke

the strange thing is, is that the longer i stay in the fog, in the smoke, how much my eyes adjust through the initial tears and squints...like finding your way to the bathroom easily in a pitch black bedroom in the middle of night.

it's less frightening in the night when you can finally make out clearly those things that seemed mysteriously menacing moments before.

i feel comfortable here.
but the longer i spend without the light,
without the windows to the outside...the more i find myself sliding into the surrounding scene:

quietly
slowly
consistently

how long has it been since i've seen the sky?
there's the light! oh, how i've missed it...but it hurts my eyes as i attempt an upward gaze...i don't recognize this light, and this air's difficult to breathe

what's happening to me?

my mouth is filled with smoke and my feet can't find the ground

what's happening to me?

am i still here?
do i still matter?

or have i been resigned to the haze that i always claimed to oppose?

my beard's thick these days
and my pants feel tight against my waist

where's the morning? i can see just fine at night, but i miss the day...

i miss the purpose
i miss the point
i miss the sky...and deep breaths

my chest heaves shallowly now, as i float from room to room...clamoring with the rest of the ghosts of irrelevancy

it's like speaking another language...backwards
my native tongue replaced by a dialectic of self-indulgence, arrogance, and grandiosity...not to mention judgment

this language clouds and disguises the emotions undergirding its existence...as it covers the land like a first-born killing haze

only this time returning the free to slavery, rather than vice-versa

let my people go
let my people go

who's the one sitting on the throne?
who's the one with the clenched jaw, safe in the palace built by subjugation, oppression, and degradation?

how far we've come from making bricks in the sun
at least there we were free enough to breathe
to see
and to know...who's side we were on

rise...

2008-04-24T13:48:00.000-07:00

paper or plastic?
right or wrong?
black or white?

it's a simple question really...

life or death?

this question is ingrained in the very fiber of our being
it permeates all that we are...every decision, every discussion
every breath.

it's why we believe in a God...or why we don't
it's why we work tirelessly for better healthcare and standards of living

or why we pull the plug
because its either one...
or the other

spit on or be spit on
hit or be hit

kill or be killed

this is how we've always lived...that's why they call that sweat on your brow the 'fight or flight' response

just choose one already, but choose carefully, because the choice we make defines every other facet of our lives...

we're the bully...or in the locker
we're the soldier...or a casualty
we're the fed...or the starving

it defines us at work, at play, at school, and at home

kill or be killed
oppress or be oppressed

history merely backs our claims...

even the bible, except this one part..about a resurrection

but we even use these choices to define the one that rose
he's a bully: pushing, pounding, demanding
or
he's weak: spit on, oppressed, mild (like green salsa)

it's strange these positions even define our identity within this religion
we attack...or nail the windows shut
we spit on...or in some cases incite deserved saliva

it's kill...

if this man, the one who the bible mentions in great detail, was killed...i guess that sort of sums this whole thing up

...or be killed

i believe in the resurrection, because i've never really bought into the black and white of history...and popular opinion

the resurrection, like a mid-afternoon storm, adds a shade of gray to living...and dying i suppose

living...dying...living again.
maybe in resurrecting god did more than 'save us'...he gave us a new option

maybe this is the freedom that this man always speaks of...freedom to be spit on,
to be beaten, to be oppressed, to be killed even...but for more than sweet relief

freedom from trying to extend our time
freedom from turning the clock back
freedom from hiding our age
freedom from stepping on...to keep the feet off of our own backs

in short, freedom to look forward, instead of over our shoulders...waiting on all those seeking revenge, or our jobs, or our status, or even our lives

this freedom allows us to look the options in the eyes, to look those that would hit us in the eyes, to look those that would spit on us in the eyes...and say go ahead.
not in the spirit of masochism...but one that calls the hand that strikes into question.

one that calls the options into question...by transcending their power, by transcending their grip, by transcending their fear.

maybe this is why i become so sad when people say they can't believe in the resurrection

because they'll never be free...from the black and white

free to live
free to die
free to live again

because in the death of jesus...i see my own cross
my own fear
my own death

...and in the resurrection i see more than just my sins rising to the clouds.

'surely this man was the son of god...'
not because he walked on water
not because he healed the sick
not because he turned water into wine

but because he transcended the options:
the black and the white
the war and the peace
the living and the dying

and invites us to do the same:
not to run
not to hide
not to hit

but to stand...and as we are struck with the hands of power and authority...continue standing, refusing to run, and refusing to hit back...and continue the cycle of history

but to rise
again
and again
and again

until the powers reach back one more time...with the only thing they know to use to create peace...death.

but we rise
again
and again
and again...removing power based on fear, and returning it to the only one i know in the resurrecting business

this is why my stomach hurts when i see who's doing the hitting these days,
using death (or hell if you like) and fear to incite peace...and family values

sometimes i ask myself, in an embarrassed whisper...what would jesus do?

(a small voice responds...even more embarrassed than my own)

"rise..."

turn it up...

2008-04-15T16:10:00.000-07:00

in...out...in...out...in

this is what it sounds like when i pray
and
when i lie awake at night
and
when i try to be still, silent even

in...out...in...out..

background noise to our lives, mine at least

for some of us its almost inaudible
we're young
we're new
we're stressed
we're busy

for some of us its impossible to ignore
we're old
we're tired
we're bored

in...out...in...out.

its funny that the only time i ever think about breathing is when everything else quiets, or the few times a year i decide to exercise or play basketball, both of which are quite startling...both to me and to others

when we're young we never imagine a life without breath, a life without vitality, a life without...well, life

as we age, things change, and we become more conscious of our breathing
and our knees
and our backs

in...out...in...

this is normal--but for some of the young breathing becomes all there is--this is not

we don't have any answers for this state of affairs
you're too young
you've got too much life ahead of you

in...out...in..

a decision or a crossroads presents itself in these, the strangest of moments.
moments that bring us face to face with the song that has always been playing softly in the back, like music in an empty restaurant

do we keep eating, ignoring the music, the signs, as if nothing were happening?

do we mark it off as bad luck, an aberration-like when my mom used to bang on the floor when my music was too loud...forcing me to turn it down.

in...out...in.

or, when faced with the background, with the reality of the situation, both
our own, and theirs

do we turn the music up and let it play resolutely in our lives: reminding, remembering, resounding

it's not as depressing as it used to be
it's not as scary as i thought it would be
it's not as far away as i always hoped it would be

it's with you, it's with me, it's with all of us
it's the question we always avoid
but it's the only one frightening enough to be true...we don't get to decide

and maybe in our breathing (whether loud or soft)
we can find the answer, the source...of our music, and our questions

breathing seems strangely rhythmic, beautiful even...as if it's trying to tell us something, about me, about you...maybe even about Him

in...out...

the graduate...

2008-04-14T18:09:00.000-07:00

sometimes in the middle of the day i sit with one headphone in and listen to the counting crows and try to be creative...or quiet, if just for a second.

most of the times i fall flat on my face, the result of which you often painfully sift through on this very blog, in short, i'm sorry.

but one thing i think that could even attempt to sum up everything that i ramble aimlessly about on here is 'being'

that's the beauty of grad school, and why i spend so much of my time trying to articulate it...because until i finish,
until i get a job
until i'm validated beyond letter grades

i won't be...anything

except someone standing in line, or waiting in traffic

which is something i do quite often out here...

except that when you're in grad school everyone else seems to end up in their intended destinations, while you keep driving...into the night

it was fine in college, at least there everyone was on the same road
was in the same line, and once you got to the end,

to the destination...someone would be there to tell you, "You made it!, Congratulations! Everything you did was not in vain...not even that paper on victorian prostitution"

except when i got to the end, i got back in line without even riding anything

(if you're following along this is the part of "Raining in Baltimore" where they play the harpsichord...my favorite)

i guess that's why grad students are so pissed off all the time...we spend our entire lives waiting to become something, only to discover that even when we get to the end of this line...all we know how to do is wait

or wish
or dream

i guess that's why they have PhD programs...

the huddled masses...

2008-04-08T13:09:00.000-07:00

my brow is growing tired of holding its furrowed gaze
watching...
wishing...
waiting...

for a new perspective
a new identity
a new way...to believe

a way free of the debris left after our torrent...or crusade

a wind storm blows and billows just over the ridge
bringing rain as well as thunderous claps of judgment, anger, and fear

we're so afraid
that the curtain might fall

we're so afraid
that the sweater might unravel

we're so afraid
that 'it' can be stolen...

and that once the locusts of culture descend...nothing will be left in their dusty wake

...so we pray for the cleansing fire

but in our attempts to fend off the swarm...nothing remains of our fields

i don't understand
i don't understand

this is the way we've always fought fire, the way we've always fought fear

...with more fire and more fear

we batten down the hatches
we rush our kids to the basement
we ramsack the grocery store
we burn our crops...

and we wait

a funny thing happens when we live our lives backed into a corner...

our knees start to ache

maybe we've been crouching for far too long...so long that we don't even know what we've been waiting our whole lives to attack

so we attack anything...but our fear never seems to dissipate: instead it defines us

it's in our voices
it's in the slanted eyes of our children weary from the dark of the basement
it's in our hands cracked and bleeding as they clench tightly around the musket of 'faith'

a 'faith' that has turned us into cowering, defensive, huddles

shells of our former selves or beliefs

beliefs that never required a gun in the first place
beliefs that were based not on vigilance, violence, and unanimity
...but rather peace, and a goodnight's sleep

which is something the corner, or the basement, or the bomb shelter have never quite afforded

something happens as we fearfully crawl out of our bunkers of faith (or fear if you like)

...we see the sun and it's light hurts our eyes, causing some to turn back afraid to the manufactured haze of the storm shelter.

but those of us who remain in the sun, in the light, discover something else the basement never seemed to offer...boundless freedom.

freedom to grow our crops, even with the locusts (sometimes they even seem to pare away what was killing our fields in the first place)

freedom to see our children grow up...unstunted by the low ceilings and low light of our self-imposed captivity...but much to our surprise, unafraid of the expanse laid out before both them and us

they turn and smile at the now familiar sun as they plant the same crops that their fathers, mothers, and grandfathers planted long before them...
with new techniques...but with similar results

in the light all becomes illuminated:
the real and the false
the good and the bad
the true...
the beautiful...

in the light choice is revealed for what it truly is rather than the listless, shapeless, and frightening unknown that lurked in the dark light of the basement...motivating our move to the corner in the first place.

we turn back and stare at our old home. seeing the strained eyes of our friends peering fearfully out at us in-between the boards on the windows...

Oh! how we long for their freedom
Oh! how they fear for our lives (or souls if you like)

the only thing i find myself fearing anymore is the basement
and the feeling of the cold steel of belief clenched between shaking hands...praying for divine conclusion

--but--

out here in the light i can finally see, choose, know, and walk...a little more upright than before.

moving...

2008-02-28T13:09:00.000-08:00

so there's this box...
and inside this box exists everything that you have ever longed for

or wanted to know about life, existence, anything really
some might even say that for your entire life, whether you knew it or not,
you were searching for what's inside this box.

unknowingly pining for cardboard

others may have even used the phrase that "you have a hole in your heart that can only be filled with the contents of this box"

and, to continue this exquisite metaphor: "in your attempts to fill this pre-existent hole with other, we'll say 'boxes', you continually become more and more frustrated"

a square peg in a round hole
why is it never a round peg in a square hole, would that peg actually fit where it isn't supposed to?

back to the box...as if we could go anywhere else

the outside may not look like much, but i promise you, with one look...that's all it takes:

changed, forever.

i looked inside the box, i guess that's why i'm holding it out to you now: but...

an interesting thing happened once you looked inside...nothing

but that's ok, you aren't ready to see what's inside: an example of this moment is when robin williams has trouble seeing all the food that the lost boys are eating in hook...but less exciting.

so you turn away from my box, only to discover everyone around you looking inside, and to your dismay, discovering...something.

the problem has to be you...i'm the one with the box
and the changed life
and the pleated dockers

in a moment of honesty you turn to me and ask: "why can't i see anything? is anything in there at all?"

i respond in some sort of answer that isn't really an answer at all...except if the question you really asked was..."what has the box done for you?", in that case, i answered quite adequately.

and you in disgust turn, and vow never to look in the box again, mumbling under your breath about box cutters and group think...

what if instead of letting you walk away, i stopped you, and first: apologized for holding the box so close to your face...cardboard is sharp on the edges

and second i told you a secret...
i told you that the box is empty, and that i've known for awhile.

"i knew it!" you quickly exclaim, and then you proceed to ask about everyone else around you..."they see it, but what they see isn't actually in the box at all, it's in the words and actions and feelings writhing around within them" "they see a way to quiet the voice...so they say yes to the box"

you turn to me in surprise and ask me why i'm still in the box business...

"i guess, i finally saw what everyone was talking about when i stopped staring at folded cardboard, and allowed my eyes to wander up towards the hands holding it...and at last I was able to stop blaming the box for not holding any of the things I claimed to believe and need..."

"and when i started looking at the hands and the faces of those in the box business, sometimes i was disappointed, and i questioned whether those longings within me would ever be resolved...but other times i saw something i had never seen before.
i saw something true
something beautiful
something real..."

in essence, something beyond the descriptors everyone had given to it, or to Him really, and was confronted with,...as best as my words can describe it, reality in its purest form.

the question i then asked of you though, is really the question i've been asking all my life...

why are we still using boxes to hold something that has not and will not ever be contained...and why are we still lying to others and ourselves about their usefulness

both for our lives and for theirs.
will you join me in cutting open these empty receptacles...only to reveal the truth that they could never hope to contain,

the truth that has always existed
both within and outside us

a jewish rabbi from the early 1st century sums it up best: "you are the light of the world. a city on a hill cannot be hidden. neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl...instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house."

also mentioned in this book given to navigate the box is another thought i find helpful...
"Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! all this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation...we are therefore Christ's ambassadors as though God were making his appeal through us"

don't blame the box...or what it proposes to contain.
instead...look up
look up to the hands
look up to the arms
look up to the eyes

you may see something after all

early mornings...

2008-02-27T21:39:00.000-08:00

sometimes early in the morning i wake up with a dull ache, that radiates from my armpit down the side of my torso.

when i touch my side it feels kind of like a bruise
but when i lift up my shirt and look...nothing

i know, i sound like my grandparents, describing in mind-numbing detail the size, color, and shape of any number of debilitating or disgusting warts, boils, etc.

but, this pain feels a little different...

because sometimes i wake up with the pain, and it feels like i'm dying (albeit a bit
melodramatically), but no one can see it...
not even me

and...

other times the pain ends up feeling good...in a way
reminding me that i'm alive, that i'm more than just a figment of my own imagination

and that my day, my decisions, my thoughts, are real and that no matter the outcome...i'm breathing

the pain reminds me, challenges me, pushes me towards a new perspective

one of brevity

this perspective forces me to count my breaths...in...out...in

as well as my blessings

its strange how this pain seems to work...the days i feel it, the days it lives, and grows deep within me...i pray for its resolution, a conclusion of sorts
a conclusion that ends being sometimes for more than just the pain

but...
other days, the days i awake, and breathe easy.
the days that go as planned, the days in slow motion, with background music...
aren't the days i remember

instead, they end up forcing me to long for the pain...in a way

pain that forces thought, dissonance, unrest

and more questions

questions i don't ask when its 75 outside
questions i don't ask when my days become weeks and months i'll never remember

so, yes, i long for the pain
the prick that forces me to see blood run down my fingertips

and to remember...why

but...then again
maybe nothing's wrong with me,

maybe its something or someone reminding me who i am
what i am
and why i am

pain relief only seems to bring absence...of feeling, of thought, of existence even

but maybe if i sit with my pain long enough
if i allow it to move, and work, and be

i might discover something new
beautiful
even true

that i'm alive
that one day i'll die
that i'm loved
hell...that love even exists

and maybe the answer to all our questions, pertaining to the pain isn't in its resolution

isn't in the divine conclusion of our aches

but in our exploration...

would we even ask without it in the first place?

or will we keep rising, early, to a life one easily forgets...even in slow motion

sweater meat...

2008-02-25T11:31:00.000-08:00

there are some things in life that you can look at and see a greater reality at work...

sunsets,
trees,
mountains,

for me one stands above the rest...

cardigans

green, blue, brown, yellow

it doesn't matter

there's something divine about a sweater with buttons

a sweater that lives far beyond gusty breezes and snow falls

and finds utility in four seasons, instead of two

the truth doesn't merely reside in impeccable design

look at the early cardigan evangelists(maybe even sweatered apostles):

ms. clift (my first librarian)
mrs. oaks (kindergarten)
mr. larry (sunday morning gospel revealer)
mr. rodgers (misunderstood prophet)
john minton (grandfather)

patriarchs and matriarchs of our society

we owe our lives to these people

because cardigans represent far more than practical fashion:

they represent truth...in wool

something happens when we push aside our preconceived notions,

our pretension

our preference

(even alliteration)

and we don the truth of who we are...proudly

there's something unchanging about cardigans, stately even

no matter what you add, what you wear underneath...the cardigan speaks

and it brings forth a flood of ideas, opinions, and judgments from those around

we can't change the design, the framework

----all we can do is to try and make it our own----

so we get a haircut

skinny jeans

and a slightly ironic t-shirt

(all in hopes that the sweater is ignored, glossed over)

but...people still see it

how can this be the way? is it even necessary that i wear it?
i know it's an amazing thing, but it itches?

my grandfather wore one of those, it's too old, it just doesn't fit...

so we take it off

and choose a new path, a new way, a new windbreaker

but underneath...we miss the warmth

(speechless)

2008-02-13T11:55:00.000-08:00

words are funny things, that is if you really start to think about them...

when we speak the words tree. rock. volvo.
our minds move to a picture, an image of what we've seen
or what we know about trees, rocks, and family sedans

words only carry meaning when they define something else...obviously

nevertheless...

when we speak these words into the lives of others we're not speaking

rocks. trees. or expensive cars into being...
they already exist

for other words their meanings are more difficult to discern
primarily because we have trouble developing an image...

take the word "sarcasm" for instance

you can't pick up sarcasm
you can't throw it, or smell it, or even see 'it' really...

unless of course you think about family gatherings, spousal conversations,

or younger brothers

"sarcasm" (a word without form) instantly holds flesh and walks around in light of these memories

(more often than i might prefer)

it's interesting that sarcasm is never questioned (aside from its implementation)

it's validity or existence go unchallenged

sarcasm exists...but only through another medium

this is true for so many other words

a thought emerges...

which came first the chicken, or the egg

the "word"
or
"it's action: it's reality

because we give it a name, lines, shape, flesh

...it becomes real?

these words are what separate us from the savages(fred included) and the beasts

if we name it...

we own it

if we define it...

do we trap it?

what if there's more to sarcasm than the definition we've given allows?

we do all we know how to...

find a new word, a new definition, a new line (or measuring stick if you like)

i'm not sarcastic: i'm sardonic, ironic, or in most cases merely mocking

i'm not smart: i'm brilliant, intelligent, or bright

maybe even articulate?

we're praised for our mastery of language, of words

because words define reality:

according to this process: the better we speak...
the clearer our definitions are...

the more illustrative reality becomes:

what if we're wrong?

about a few things:

what if reality has always lived and moved and existed:
what if reality will always continue to do so...long after our dictionaries filled with it's definition?

long after the chains and shackles of language

: or our words?

is a rock only a rock if we name it as such?

if we own it?

when do we abandon words?

when they lose their ability to define?

when they stop illuminating reality?

or when reality transcends them...

ironically enough we have a word for this...

(speechless)

try describing a moment that is only given shape and form in language
by it's very lack of definition

it's like trying to describe the birth of your child, your wedding

or the death of a parent

or how 3 six mafia won an oscar...

do these experiences still exist, without our words: our shape?

our reality...really.

maybe these experiences, these moments are calling us
jarring us from our arrogance

our haze of measure and marks

...to a more articulate existence

an existence littered with awe
...and a strong dose of humility

the most frightening aspect of a reality outside our control, our words

...is that we can't name it.

and if we can't name it, we can't own it.

maybe that's why "god" has been around for so long.

not the One who is "eternal"

(i have trouble even saying that)

the god im speaking of is the one cropping up in conversations:
justifications:
and in ramifications for

subsequent subjugations:

if we can name it...

god serves as our battle cry

...we can own it.

what if we allowed this One to speak?

would he use our words?

would we be able to grasp their weight?

or would these words merely be... (speechless)?

maybe this is why the first people to know this One never spoke the name

the word

because ultimately in a name, a word, walls are created

if their One was a king (he would be defined inside the reality of a king)

if their One was a judge (he would be defined inside the reality of a judge)

-- but --

if their One was (speechless)

we lose the ability to qualify him: except of course...

to remember the moments we could never describe

If the One is_______

then he can in actuality: be the wind, the rain

...and a 30 something Jewish prophet

we must
we have to

reclaim the name of ( )

if we ever hope to see him...in reality

a reality that exists in the silences and in the spaces in-between our words

in doing this we allow the One to be far more than god

we may even be able to call him what he always referred to himself as...

I AM...(here)

"this is the only vocabulary
that we can use to articulate the silences
our words could never conquer"

as if these words could ever capture...anything

faith...i think?

2008-02-05T13:23:00.000-08:00

i believe
in what? why? in who?

i'm afraid
in what? why? of who?

it's easier to stay here:
here in my beliefs, in my qualifications, ideas
systems, and paradigms
i can explain: postulate: formulate

...but i can't erase it

the fear
the unrest
the unsettled

maybe if i dive further into my faith, or my ideas of faith, into my belief

then i can find my way out
if i can explain why i feel this way
if i can name it, i can resolve it

it never seems to
...resolve that is

(maybe the 'it' should be 'someone')

what am i hiding from?
what am i explaining away at night?
what am i learning to dissect?

the more i learn about 'faith' the more i remove the 'someone' from it

maybe that's the problem...
maybe that's what i'm afraid of...

that all this is true.

and that i'm wrong (not about the existence of 'someone')
but that he/she/it is more than this ivory tower

more than this explanation of death
...of life
...of anything (really)

maybe i'm afraid of this faith freeing itself
from under my boot of cold scientific thought

or maybe i'm just afraid of what the 'someone' will say if i allow (him/her/it) to speak without putting words in 'their' mouth.

w/o constructing their thoughts, actions, and motivations

then again maybe i'm just afraid...
that the bread of my belief
the meat of my faith
the sweet of my ideas

...will turn to ash in my mouth

maybe i've been living on ash for a while now (is it killing me?)

i guess when i say i believe: i believe in my ability to use religion to prop myself up:

above others: holding the divine 'someone' as my badge and justification
justification to be better and smarter

i guess when i say i'm afraid: i'm afraid that i'll die without every believing anything that i say:

a death alluded to by faulkner...and shakespeare i suppose.

will i ever act?
will i ever move?
will i ever be...

more than just my words?

only if i let you exist outside of my discussion:

can i handle it?
will i survive?

...I guess in the end, its what we all fear:

a God who is more than the word

---and---

a faith that's more than an idea

opposable thumbs...

2008-01-22T12:50:00.000-08:00

some mornings i wake up, and i think...

it would be easier to not believe anymore

it would be easier to choose ignorance, or the dark

easier to stop going to school
learning about liberation, freedom, and the like:

but learning all of it
only to oppress others with its weight (both that of the knowledge and my ego)

its amazing how quickly freedom looks like baggage

how quickly the liberated become the oppressor:

it looks different:
different than what you might think.

"we're learning the way of Jesus...the way of freedom"

but why does our "freedom" spend so much of its time parading as self-aggrandizement?

why does our "freedom" look so much like the people who made high school a hell for most?

...our freedom's a sham
a superiority complex...with orthodox thinking (of course)

the only thing we end up learning is that to survive, to be free:

...is to make sure others aren't

because maybe freedom is unattainable
unfathomable even:
the only thing we can compare it to is what it isn't

we've never been free a day in our lives...

as long as we aren't under our own thumb
our own ideas...
then we're free

as long as we aren't trapped...we're free

but if we were truly "free" would we be so concerned about building more cages?

maybe that's why people in the "free world" are more oppressed than ever?

because none of us are free,
we push down our thumbs harder and harder
on those underneath...

...someone has to pay
we need someone to be 'under'
someone to be 'caged'

because this can't be freedom...outside the cage

the best part is when we use God to perform the same function
...as our thumb...

this is what makes it so hard to believe:
look at what His hands and feet are doing

holding down, holding-up, oppressing, hating, punching
even screaming

screaming for the same thing that we're with-holding from others

"freedom"

no one's free
we cry
what's free?
we cry

im sorry
im sorry
forgive me
forgive me

im not free...and i don't wish it for anyone else
im supposed to be...but afraid to admit otherwise

the only way to absolve the dissonance

i must remove this abstract quality from them
in increasingly more deliberate ways

....that's the only way we can fall asleep at night

: if the star's in jail (or court)
: if the drunk's in the street
--------and----------
: we're finally dreaming (of freedom? or its anti-thesis)

no one's free
i whisper to the ceiling
(silence)

what's free?
i plead
(alone)

but im still awake? why?
i muse
(I AM...too)

we're held on strings...

2008-01-14T12:29:00.001-08:00

what if we're all the same?
despite our differences, our preferences.
amidst races, genders, geographies an underlying self is common amongst us all

a soul some would call it.
a defining spark that lives within us all...
prompting some to die, some to walk away
some to to live, and some to cry...

but ultimately underneath the praxis of our lives the spark reigns and lives

many of us spend our entire lives without acknowledging its presence
...admitting it, owning it

despite the fact that we see it in men blowing up buildings for their god
others cursing their god...as they wake up every morning and look in the mirror at the same anxieties and pain they went to bed with

...and still others who confess their disbelief in this spark, but still live confused and dismayed
as they chase its existence in various forms.

there's something frightening about admitting that underneath all our practice and pretense
we still have the same drives

...to love
...to be loved

those are obvious

...the drive for immortality
...to connect with something bigger than ourselves
...in short, the drive to feel the spark that connects us to the essence of all that we are

because maybe once we're there...at the essence: we can finally breathe deep and see for miles
we see why we live, why we love
why we laugh, why we kill, why we cry
why we build, and ultimately, why we die

when this moment comes upon us, its as if everything around us slows down
and once it does we can see all the wires and moving parts
that make up the machines we live in

if we stop every once and a while and take a look around we might even be able to see the strings:
holding up our differences

that's why its so scary to reflect
because we find that everything we've done to try and separate ourselves from others is...a lie
...a cheap show that once you're old enough you stop worshipping
and instead start seeing the wires holding it up.

im not saying all of these things to come to the conclusion that God is some sort of created reality
...one that we use to make ourselves numb to reality

...im saying that everything else is:
these created differences, created needs, created identities all point back to one thing:
the fact that we have and have always had an identity

...a spark
...a soul
everyone
everywhere

we're all connected: different: but the same

kind of like the spark that started it all...some might even call this God different

(a son, a father, and a spirit)...but all connected

look past your job
your neighborhood
your country
even your skin
...different...
but the same

can you see them?
the wires where you live, the car you drive, the friends you have

im a single mother
im an indian
im an immigrant
im black
im white

im you...and you're me
different

but the same

something...

2007-11-27T20:20:00.000-08:00

have you ever thought that you were supposed to be something?
something great....
something astounding....
or, just
something(else)

something...

sometimes i want to be anything, it doesn't have to be great or amazing or incredible
just alive

its amazing that when you live in limbo, without an identity
without a goal...
a job...
a purpose...

that you dream of being anything

the something you used to dream of died a few job interviews ago
or a few years ago...
or a few kids ago...

so we settle for the anything.
anything that makes us feel like something...if only for a few moments.

maybe its a glance from your wife
...a hug from your kids

sometimes its a little darker

because sometimes the thing that makes us feel like something is really just the removal of feeling altogether

the numbness protects us from the something we were always meant to be, but eventually gave up on

so we wake...only to wish for sleep
we sober up...only to drink again

and

we live...if only for the end

because maybe if we're asleep
or numb
or dead
we can escape the something that longs within each breath we take, to become...

but become what? or who?

we've been anything for so long...
can we remember our foolish hopes?
our idealistic euphoria?

no...its too painful to go back there,
to realize the dissonance between the listless anything that we are now:
floating in
and out of reality

and the something we always saw...but never became.

can we resolve? or are we destined to ever repeat this song
playing over and over again in our heads...
but slightly out of tune.

...its not what we want, we know that
...its not what we need, we tried that

its too late...im too old..there's no time...it hurts too much...what if i fail?...i already failed...

maybe its never been about the resolution, or the realization

not destination...

but rather, initiation

maybe the point of the something inside us all was not to achieve...but to become (always)

because maybe giving up, or in, was the only failure

maybe the something inside is pointing to something...else

in striving and reaching and becoming we can finally be ok with what it is that we are...
which is far much more than merely anything.

maybe we'll never achieve what it is that we always dreamed of...
because maybe what we were dreaming of wasn't something-else, but someone-else

maybe what you're dreaming of is there, never to be realized
only to push
and prod
and motivate us to who we are now...

or rather, who we will be
because we never "are" something...instead, we're merely on the way

so the questions we ask ourselves now are:
who am i?
why am i?
how did i get here?

and most importantly...

where am i going?

...because the most destructive force within us is the one that keeps us from moving...

from feeling....
from, well, becoming...

presently...

2007-11-15T19:44:00.000-08:00

i live cramped, confined, trapped...in my head, in my ideas

...ideas in the future, oh what I could be! who will i be? will i be greater than others? or worse?

...ideas in the past, oh what i was! why was i that? how could that have been me? was that me? can't i escape that me now?

never living, now, in who i am
always living in the "was" or the "will be"
confining myself to that of a spectator in the theatre of my own life
watching, but not seeing
listening, but never hearing
walking, but always falling...or is it failing?

maybe its easier to live in these thoughts
to stay in the past, in who i used to be, its safer here, i know this self-loathing...never moving forward, never advancing...according to this logic, never failing (again).

to stay in the future where i can become anyone
where i can do anything...without, ironically enough, actually having to do anything
its easier to look at myself in the mirror if this is the person that i see...one who exists, but only to me.

ultimately its fear that keeps me here...fear that ill fail
fear that ill become the person i remember...again
fear that im much smarter, much more successful, in my own mind

maybe this is why i seek validation for everything, for these words even...
someone tell me im good enough, smart enough, successful enough
validate me
validate me
ill hide behind humility...but i want it
im too ashamed to admit it...but i need it
to feel "alive"
to feel "good"
to feel "free"

the ironic thing is, is that my freedom is always contingent upon something else. Im only free when im told im free, or when i have this or that or when i can do whatever i want, but what i want is really always the same thing

someone to tell me who i am
and once they and i find out, we can sit, and i can finally be...
...here
...now
...present

freedom isn't mine until im finally free from it

free to be ok with the unmade bed
with the cluttered shelf
with my shitty past
with my uncertain future

i can only say these things, here, now, because when i came to the point of self actualization or self realization...it stopped,
the voice from another that is, bowing to my egoic needs and yearnings for validation

and the voice simply said im here
you're here
i know you
and you know me...and im staying

its only when these words of eternity, these words of human existence, spoken by the inaugurator of history...
are embodied in another that we can know freedom...and finally be free (in actuality not just in principle)
...free from the future
...free from the past
...free from ourselves

free to live in the only reality that has ever existed, now.

i know you, i know you, i know you
i love you, i love you, i love you

not because you are...
because I am

i want to sit with my humanity opened up, for you to look inside, freely, to see...
me
you
us
and for that to be ok...

idea prostitutes...

2007-11-06T10:12:00.000-08:00

there are so many things that we as this current generation want, things we want to become, to do, to have. we have so many ambitions and drives that war and compete inside us for our time, our energy, our focus. the desire for authenticity in relationships, in religion, in life. the desire for purpose, for meaning...explanation, in short, of why we're here, for what reason, for who's reason? the desire to experience love and to give it in return. but at our base, our core of ambition, i would argue that the thing that drives and pushes us more than anything else is our desire for immortality. a desire to live in such a way that leaves a mark on the world, on human history, and on our fellow man. its this drive that causes us to work harder than ever before, to spend more time trying to, well...matter. even in the sub culture of christianity there is a movement of 20 somethings wandering the united states searching for this very same immortality, but it looks differently, this immortality they seek isn't to be remembered for their captialistic success, or their ability to contribute to society or their own religious traditions, but rather to rebel from these structures, to tear them down and to be remembered instead for their refusal to conform to normal patterns of behavior, religiosity, occupation, etc. patterns seen in the hands of their fathers and the tired eyes of their mothers. traditions seen in the churches they once attended and the values and wants they once esteemed. these listless, angry wanderers want only to become something of substance if that substance is different from the patterns and life choices of their parents. things that are valued are not valued for their truthfulness or validity, but are instead valued for their uniqueness and rebellious qualities. the dangerous path that this generation walks is one littered with frustration and self-centeredness, one in which they desire to be esteemed for the mark they left on the world "in the name of Jesus", but in reality, in the name of their own immortality. within this logic of rebellion is created a group of idea prostitutes willing to die for any cause that presents itself as worthy and carries the title christian and is located in the opposite direction of the traditions of the past. this is what we're left with in the kingdom, a religion that is based upon what it isn't rather than what it is. followers who wander aimlessly from passion conference to passion conference searching for a new in-road to immortality, as long, of course, as the road resembles the one painted by donald miller. followers who make decisions based upon a hatred for normalcy in every sense, despite the fact that they've created the very same idol in response to the idolatry of their parents...a hatred of structure rather than its worship, a hatred of tradition rather than its exaltation...so put on your ripped jeans, get a tattoo (preferably in greek), a 75 dollar haircut, pierce your ears and move to a place as far away from the past as you can...because you know what, you're unique.

the funny thing is, is that the more we strive to be a response to what we hate, the more we end up resembling it...

close your eyes...

2007-11-04T19:18:00.000-08:00

does anyone else think prayer is a little strange? i mean really, if we start to think about it, what we're doing is attempting to communicate with this invisible divine being that depending on what we believe already knows before we ask. so what we do is close our eyes, because apparently if we keep them open we might see something we aren't supposed to, strings? an old man behind a curtain? closing my eyes has always been something that has been funny to me, mainly when people engage in this extremely high-contact prayer known as the "prayer-walk", which i might add seems a bit counterintuitive to closing your eyes. what about traffic? neighborhood dogs? rakes!? whenever people talk about prayer walks i always imagine people prayerwalking right into buildings and setting off car alarms...

the actual act of praying is much more interesting than the prep time, my favorite part that happens when we pray, i assume only because of the somewhat religious settings in which prayer ocurrs, we substitue God, father, Holy spirit, etc. (sometimes all 3) for the word um...sometimes it feels like we are constantly forgetting who we're talking to, seeing as we are standing in a circle, holding hands, again with our eyes closed, and speaking aloud..."God, i just want you God, to heal God, my dog God because father God, he's sick God and father he needs your presence...you get the idea"

Think if we talked to our friends this way or really any other human being.."mom could you pass the mom salt, and mom could you mom see if you could mom, reach the corn mom." it reminds me of this episode of south park where cartman became an extremely successful chrisitian recording artist by taking already popular songs and anytime there was profanity or a sexual reference he just plugged "Jesus" into its spot...i would argue that this episode was already enfringing on numerous copyrighted songs already in exisistence.

once you get past the closed eyes and the um/Gods you then move into the hilarity that is corporate prayer, because in these moments, no only do you not have to pray, but no one else does either...even if you're speaking. we stand up in front of a group thinking about what we should say, how we should say it, in my case (are there feathers to ruffle?) and in the case of the silent fading masses we sit, waiting for our cue to open our eyes and return from sleep or the rest of the day's agenda. these thoughts aren't the only things that confuse me about prayer...how about the fact that if God already knows what we need before we ask, already knows what is going to happen, what both He and we are going to do...then what's the point? is it to make us feel better about the situations we find ourselves in, to give us a sense of control over an experience that, more than likely, we have none...is prayer more about us than it is about God? more about how we feel than what happens?...

i think i used to believe this, to believe that God was going to do what He's going to do, and that we're just attempting to make ourselves ok with that. something changed this for me, what if prayer really does change things, i mean really does...not just in a self-fulfilling prophecy sort of way, but in a way that God hears us...and we hear Him. this moment of revelation came in the strangest of places, (they often do) i work at a summer camp for middle school all the way to college kids, it's a christian camp (obviously) not the kind you may be thinking of (picketing and prostelytizing aren't track time options) but at this camp i found myself in charge of recreation and at the end of the week we have this massive blow out relay where kids get soaking wet, tired, and of course in the process numerous souls are won. the first week that im in charge of this relay (or salvation experience depending on who you talk to) a massive front filled with relay-ruining lightining, high-winds, and possibly hail rolled in. in the face of imminent cancellation our camp director implored us to pray and appeal to God to hold off the rain so that this camp-culminating event could occur for our students, our staff, and really, for me...

before you make any snap-judgements i realize that for me and probably some of you praying for the weather is like praying for the colts to win the super bowl (which they did ironically enough), for your dad to win the lottery (he has not), or for you to ace a test that you didn't study for...asinine at best. so i didn't pray for the rain to stop, for the high winds not to howl, for the lightning not to strike...but others did. their faith is stronger or at least sappier than mine. i know where you think this story is going, it rained on all of my stuff, the wind blew my flags down and scattered my cones, but about 30 minutes before we were scheduled to start it all stopped (the rain and some of my cynacism...not all, i have some saved for tennessee football and politics). needless to say i was a little surprised...

right before we started the relay we got together as a staff and i prayed and admitted that i didn't think God was going to stop the rain, and for once when i prayed with the staff that night i didn't feel them moving around, shifting weight impatiently back and forth, or sighing heavily in anticipation of divine conclusion...to be honest i didn't hear them at all. the only thing i remember hearing in that moment admist my confessions of unbelief and praise was a silence that only comes from something bigger than storm clouds, arrogance, even cynacism...I want to say from then on i believed in the power of prayer, the funny thing is, is that God did the same exact thing the next week...maybe something bigger is happening here, but who am i to say. my God's smaller than the 5 day outlook, but for that one night i saw something that i had never seen before, a God that not only knows us, not only knows what we need, but a God that listens...and acts, maybe not for us that night, but i like to think so...

humanity is the reality...

2007-11-01T19:32:00.000-07:00

im just going to admit it, its hard for me to believe in God sometimes. he's invisible, he created this world with people, but he gave people options in terms of what they could do, so obviously they decided to go with an apple over this immense, creative being...good call. but even before this happened, the God created this earth that we live in by just having a conversation, with Himself no less, bam! there was earth, and then animals, and then eventually the same people we mentioned earlier. the rest of this account of God is more of the same, doing amazing things, forgiving this group of people who keep screwing up, talking through wind, fire, and the like...this is the story we've been told our entire lives, but today its hard to see this God. we can't see his hands, or his flame, or his face...and sometimes he seems fairly quiet, at least to me...possibly you if we're being honest. even if we ask someone about God, let's say an authority on God, to describe Him (or Her depending on who you are)? they end up using words like perfect, holy, righteous, omnipotent, omnipresent, mighty, even loving. these words sound beautiful, but again I can't hug the word holy when i lie awake at night, lonely in my own head. i can't talk to righteousness in the midst of my fear, i couldn't feel the touch of omnipresent when my grandmother died. so why do i believe in this God, in this religion, and in this God's son (who by the way is mysteriously both man and God at the same time)...i believe because i "feel" them, and "see" them, and "hear" them all around me. because the thing about this particular worldview is that the message of Jesus and this God is one where he takes the worst of us, and the worst parts of us and chooses to use that to reveal his validity and reality to other people. that, this God and his Son, do amazing things isn't really the point, every religion has a god that can do something we can't, but the way of Jesus is one that takes people incapable of most things, and allows them to do something amazing. Jesus walking on water isn't that amazing when you remember that He is God, but then he does something completely counterintuitive to all other religions...he empowers us to do the same. "then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus"
Peter, a fisherman, definitely not a priest, walks on water...amazing
Jesus doesn't stop there.
He actually gets mad at these fisherman and miscreants when they can't cast out these demons from a boy. "because you have so little faith. i tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain move from here to there and it will move. nothing will be impossible for you..."
Jesus is mad not because his disciples don't believe in Him, they know who Jesus is, they've been around. Jesus is mad because they don't believe that they can do it...through Him. Jesus desires for the disciples to not merely repeat this message of hope, love, restoration, and in their case...miracle, but instead to become this message.
to become healing, hope, love to people who have seen "gods" do amazing things before...but never fishermen.
this is because Jesus was well aware that He would be gone soon and that the disciples ability to merely attest to Jesus' message of redemption would be inadequate, he instead intended for them to do as much showing as they were telling.
the same is true for me now...
when i said earlier that God was all around me, i meant it, because i can see his love in people that should never be able to love, to see his forgiveness in people that should be consumed with hate, i feel him in mother's hug, and the handshake of an enemy, and in the breath of a child. because if we look around long enough for God, and we understand how he chooses to operate, how He speaks, and what He's been saying all along, we find out that when someone called us just before we hit rock bottom, or when someone hugged us when we felt lonelier than we ever had...and that when we asked big questions we thought we heard silence from God, we just didn't realize His voice in the voices of those around us...
God has and will always continue to use busted speakers to transmit a message of hope.

so next time you pray to an invisible God (that you wonder about) to heal your friend, or your mom, or your grandmother that lies beneath in your hands, or in your embrace. don't be surprised if a small voice answers back..."I already am".

in the night/clarity revealed...

2007-10-30T21:05:00.000-07:00

the air is thick and heavy this evening, pushing the moon so low that its gaze meets my eye and i return it with my heavy vision filled with a paradigm that focuses or directs my gaze and its intensity on the way that i view this night or any night before it. its amazing when i see you in the night, in the wind, in the smoke that rises dirty out of the buildings polluting our lives with their intoxicating, capitalistic choke...but you're there. i label something denoting your presence or label something removing your presence, or my seal, choosing where you go and where you don't. where you are and where you aren't. lucky for this world you aren't bound or confined to the places we put you and the characteristics we give you. i think that just because we decide what something is or give that something a name we automatically assume that it becomes what we name it rather than allowing our words to be descriptive of what it is. its the same with how we label christianity instead of allowing our labels to be descriptive of what something is, we instead create the label (or paradigm) first and then try and fit things into the mold that we have created, and if things don't fit into our label then they can't be indicative of who God is or they can't be true...or real. but the more i come across things under our christian heading the more i find that they aren't indicative of god, and aren't true...or real. this is because what happens in our factories is that we mass produce things to fit a label that God never designed, rather than creating things that are beautiful..because he is, things that are true...because he is all truth, things that are real...because truth, beauty, and reality have never been restricted to fit a set of requirements, or standards...the question i have to ask is would God, the one who is real, not the one we can buy at a bookstore in the self help aisle, or the one we get every 2nd friday, or the one we watch every night...would this God (the truth), fit under our paradigm? but this God is a hard sell...he doesn't resolve our problems in 30 minutes or give us 6 steps for happier living, he just tells us to trust him, but how can we when we can't define what he will do with our lives? our books teach us of a God who wants our best over his, our glory over his, our lives over his. a god that keeps us safe and will never lead us into places we are too afraid to go... its funny when the night wakes my tired eyes from this daze. when his reality pushes not only the moon into my eyes, but his character into my heart...this is the god i want to serve, one where i can't write the definition of who he is because my words cannot define who he is...they merely restrict and confine. God your weight is heavy on this night and this life, and it suffocates the lines of my thoughts...this is when you're real

this is the last night...

2007-10-30T21:03:00.001-07:00

This is the last night in my body…this body that lives bound by its own image (what a pretty one it is!) Why do I live this way? This self-indulgent, self-preserving, self-ish, well…self, that sinks, and pulls, and drags me down into this race of materialistic humanoids who love the sound of their own voice and the change in their pockets (the cluttering, clanging gongs of self worth). Those who feel nothing, do nothing, and are nothing. Nothing that is, but the image they have in their own minds of what they are. Screw this life they try to force feed us…I want to be free, not from this world or society, to hide in my Christian ghetto filled with empty image- but instead to be free…indeed. Free from my own image (of how good I am), Free to live, to feel, to touch, to hear, to see, to taste, to know…Him and in turn, life. Not the Him seen through the lens of my pride, but rather instead through the humble eyes of his shamed, beaten, dirty, and bloody son…not the eyes of our churches which are blind to the reality of our situation and reality in its essence…being freedom. Free from having to do specific jobs for a specific wage, a specific level of success, presige, life? (is it really?) When I shed this shell of life, of imprisonment, I find the life He wanted me to live all along before they told me otherwise. A life where I’m truly free to work anywhere, make anything, be talked to anyway people choose to talk to me, to treat me…When I live this way, the way of Jesus, I find life in the strangest of places, the strangest of jobs, neighborhoods, or wages…We find life when people spit in our faces or take our places (in line)…or when they take our lives or livelihoods. Because its in these moments when we are truly free from the pride that binds us that we find life in all situations, in all jobs, in all neighborhoods, in all incomes. We discover the life that Christ lived and the life he called us to live…not one of sacrifice, because sacrifice implies ownership, but instead one of freedom, freedom from ourselves and the American nightmare we all try to live and think we deserve…This is the last night in this body…it died with You…If we have been united with him like this in his death, we will certainly be united with him in his resurrection. For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin…because anyone who has died has been freed from sin. Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with Him…Romans 6:5-8.

its raining...

2007-10-30T21:01:00.000-07:00

Rain reminds us who we are, it brings back the very things that make us human. The common bond we have with the rest of humanity. It rains on me in my neighborhood of 300,000 dollar houses and it rains on neighborhoods filled with 300 dollar a month apartments. It rains on the good and the bad, the sick and the well, the black and the white. This commonality is heightened when we venture out in this rain...It pours all over our clothes, no matter the style, the cost, or the color. Suits become wet clothes, rags become wet clothes...we all become wet clothes.

Rain returns us to the core of our humanity.

So much of our time in this world is spent attempting to separate ourselves from the rest of the pack. Attempting to use other people to support our regimes of status, power, and image...Because its impossible for us to be better than others if we're the same as others. We can't be on top if there isn't a bottom. We can't be good if there aren't people who are bad. Maybe that's why poverty and hunger, and slavery for that matter, still exist. Not because we can't stop it (we have all the reasources, technology, intelligence, and money to eradicate this epidemic)...But because without the marginalized, the poor, and the broken there couldn't be a wealthy, exclusive, upper crust...Maybe this is why God broke up the kingdom of Israel and then later dismantled them, and sent them into exile...Because the oppressed, the poor, and the enslaved became perpetuators of their sickness, they moved from enslaved to enslavers, from oppressed to oppressors, from the poor to the rich...maybe this is why it rained, or in their case...poured.

A storm always brings rain, lightning, wind...and clarity.

Rain washes away our makeup, our images, our ideas of ourselves and returns us to the realization that in the rain everyone looks the same...wet and cold.
Maybe this is why we aren't only stripped of our images in the rain...but we're free to play, to run, to slide, free to be free with others. Because for that moment in the rain we stop caring about our clothes, our hair, our faces...and we allow ourselves to finally live with each other and even with our own neuroses...where the only thing we care about is living.

Its funny how a storm takes all the clouds in the sky and pulls them in and drops them on us, but once its over it clears everything out and leaves a clear sky and a calm wind in its wake.

Storms clean us
Rain washes us and frees us from having to step on others and finally allows us to run no matter who we are.

Sometimes we need the rain to see the light that was always behind the clouds...the rain is what makes the light visible.

i hope it pours...

february...

2007-10-30T21:00:00.000-07:00

Streetlights pass overhead, shafting light in repeating patterns, assembling a light-brite grid in the night. The road slides slow underneath the car, cold under February's oppressive hand. My thoughts are frozen inside my head, my words clenching my tongue, refusing to be spoken, to be uttered. The night's cold touch begins to creep beyond the exterior, inside to the cavity of the car's interior, spreading, stretching like a virus. It moves all around me, I see it, but only when the patterend beams of light catch the cold I'm breathing out.

Because now the cold has moved from around to within, from exterior and removed, to interior and reality. The cold starts to become me, or I it, it fills my lungs, my bones, my hands until nothing feels like its my own. Slowly removing the things that define my humanity, my ability to feel, to think, to believe, to be seen in the light. I've been driving for far too long and the heat stopped working a few miles back as I escape the last light that marks my ability to see, to feel warmth. My last barrier, or warning, it looks almost forboding against the darkness of the horizon. I feel like if I drive past this light that I'll pass my last chance to be something other than the dark, and the cold. That I'll miss my last chance to see, to see others, to see the trees that the light would catch...To see the reality that lies just underneath the dark and the manufactured yellow haze of headlights and street lamps....

oh, how I wish to taste the day, the warmth, the truth before the night overtakes me...for good, Before I relegate myself to the nothing that I feel in the cold recesses of February, mirroring my inability to find the real. It's in these nights, the ones that feel like the day won't follow, the ones that are so cold that they can't heat up again, that I realize the reality of our situation...The reality of my choice to live in the night, perpetually. Because the light becomes too painful after dwelling in the dark for so long, the heat hurts our hands after allowing the cold to overtake us. It becomes easier to choose the nothing of the night, the numbness of the cold because we can die without really having to choose it, Eventually we can't even tell if we're alive anyway. Is the initial pain too much? Or is it there to awaken the personhood that has died within us for so long, the ability to feel, and the ability to see...everything even if it hurts an incredible amount at first.

Once we've tasted the sting of reacclamation, the bite of return, the ache of restoration, we see the reality of all things, the truth of all things, and the beauty of all things without the shadow of the night and the oppression of the cold. We are allowed to see others and to be seen by others, to find an answer to the question we only asked alone and lonely in the night, unable to ask others because we saw no one, sometimes we couldn't even see ourselves. The moment of painful reawakening is likened to the rebirth of summer in the person of spring after a season of short days and cold nights...

I refuse to return to the night, to the lonely, to the cold, I want to believe that this real, that I'm real, and once I can finally see what the streetlamps were attempting to illumen, quite poorly I might add, my belief stops...and the knowing begins. I know me, I know others, and eventually I start to know You.

You speak in shafts of light in February nights colder than its been in a long time. Pointing to a reality we refuse to embrace because we can't see it...oh, if we'd only look, and feel, and breathe in the light, the light of the world within us and around us, begging to free us from the night.

the end...

2007-10-30T20:59:00.000-07:00

It’s funny how when something comes to an end you don’t really know how to begin talking about it. Because maybe inside we realize that to begin talking about it, to begin speaking, is to begin the end itself. So if we hold silent for a few more moments, if we bite our tongues then maybe we can stop its spread…but alas, like cancer, the end destroys and devours everything in its path…leaving nothing but used kleenex and unspoken goodbyes in its wake. Wherever the end leaves us after it comes is really the point of the end. Are we sitting with dazed looks on our faces thinking about the place where used days go and missing people who are still with us? Wishing for the past, but not wanting the early stages of friendship…and awkwardness. I guess that’s the thing about the wishing…its unrealistic, none of us wish for the times we couldn’t stand someone, the times they hurt us, the times we wondered if we could go on…But again that’s why wishing is unrealistic, because without the moments no one wishes for none of us would be feeling the way we are now. If instead at the end of this…and all things really, we can look forward with the memories of both the good and the bad, the experiences we’ve had with others and realize that the end is really about the beginning. The beginning of new life, new friends, and old friends in new places. When we respond in the inevitability that is the end with ideas of continuance and reorganization. Thoughts of how to incorporate those with which our lives have intertwined into our new lives…these are the thoughts I choose. To live in the reality that the end comes to all things, all situtations, the end comes to every minute of every day…what makes it hard is the finality of some ends over others, but sometimes that finality is the only thing that can bring beginning back into our lives…because maybe its time we began again, maybe this is what life is made up of…a series of beginnings and endings. Some endings more final than others and some beginnings more frightening than those before them. But in the end all things begin and when all things begin they inevitably end…because maybe this beginning and ending is really about something else entirely…but i guess this where you begin writing your story…b/c im at my end (or beginning rather)