Still speaking

I was reading through Mark last week, having been frustrated by a couple of meetings I was a part of and in need of consolation from the source of all comforts. I turned to Mark because of a chapel talk I gave last week in which I paraphrased some things Jesus speaks to us; it propelled my thoughts to revisit some of the things recorded about him to inspire more confidence and greater understanding in speaking of him. I read through chapter eight of Mark's words and something very distinct stuck out to me, highlighted by the following story.

As I finished up reading, I received a phone call from a friend returning my call. I mentioned a gift that had been given to me and how I was planning on using that to be a blessing to others (by purchasing concert tickets) when she mentioned something she'd just got through discussing in a Bible study: Jesus feeding the 5,000 men (possibly upwards of 15,000-20,000 total people). She paralled what I mentioned to Jesus taking the two fish and five loaves and turning that into a feast for a numerous crowd. The thought or message from that conversation: continue to be a blessing with whatever you are given.

That conversation set me up for the first few chapters of Mark. As I read, I kept noticing how much Mark referred to Jesus speaking and causing things to happen by (merely?) speaking. It caused me to think back to creation and how God spoke everything into being. I read about Jesus calling the apostles, telling them, "Come, follow me." They began to be transformed by that. Christ spoke to demons and removed them from people; words changing the lives of those who were possessed. He spoke to nature and nature listened, soothing and calming down at the sound of his voice.

I think about trying to listen to his voice today and don't really how that happens or what it sounds like. On my first trek experience (I'll have to write about this in more detail sometime) I spent seven hours in quiet time hoping and praying to hear an audible voice of God speaking to me. Nothing. Not a sound did I hear. And on top of it, I missed lunch. Yet as I reflected later in the evening and in the years following, I know I was told something truly inspiring: wait.

Wait. Be patient. Be confident that though you do not physically hear a voice through your ear, I am near. Know that my whispers are still calming though you know not from where they come. The voice that calmed the sea can calm your heart, can calm your soul. The voice that yelled and screamed while clearing the Temple will also light a fire in you. The voice that created all you see and put in motion all that is speaks into being new creations still today. The voice that welcomed little children will welcome you too. I don't follow whims, though it may seem so at times; but trust that I am deliberate. Trust that I am listening. I trust that you are as well.

That's just one of the many things I've been "told" (which is odd to write so I put it in quotation marks). I was glad to be reminded that Jesus' words are powerful; the voice of truth still does so many things. And what fun it is to read something I've read so often and find new insights and connections. Jesus speaks, things happen. Lives change. Love speads. Hurts are healed. Brokenness is mended. Rage is calmed. Hope is offered. The voice of Truth.

Skills

I am a huge Napolean Dynamite fan for many reasons: it's a clean, funny, cool movie that I have no qualms about watching and re-living with my youth group; it's extremely quotable; it brings people together (I've met and exchanged movie quotes with several people before finding out their names); it's just flippin' awesome.

As a light weekend entry, and in honor of Napolean, I'm going to share a couple of lists of skills I have and wish I had, "because girls only like guys with skills." Some are light, some are silly, some are legit, some are out there. There's not a particular order. Enjoy.

What I think I've got:

Listening skills
Encouraging skills
Useless information- and trivia-recall skills
Beard-growing skills
Hair color-changing skills
Singing a song based on a pharse someone just used in conversation skills
Friendship skills
Writing skills
Reading skills
Stupid list skills
Praying skills
Adaptability skills
Wild at heart skills
Getting congested skills


Wish list:

Computer hacking skills
Bow hunting skills
Picking up girls skills
Telling-jokes-and-stories-without-ruining-the-punchline-or-story skills
Being really, really good-looking skills
Knowing how to ride a motorcycle skills
Not passing out when blood is taken from me skills
Skydiving (by myself) skills
Alias skills (incl. gadgets, combat skills & being Jennifer Garner's boyfriend)
Swinging through the jungle on vines skills (you just never know...)
City jumping skills (click here, go to Top 10, it's #1)
Making a decision about where to go to eat skills
Continued patience and peace with God's unfolding story skills
Cooking fine cuisine skills

Upon further review

I do not intend to glorify or encourage illegal activities through my writing (or life, for that matter). I may have done so yesterday in sharing about my brother's letter to me. I've found out that that was mail fraud and my comments about storing that away for practical joke-purposes is now misleading because I will not be using that or advocating that in any way. Sure, some may say it's just 37 cents and we get ripped off by the government much more than that on a sometimes daily basis. Regardless, it doesn't make it right. Thirty-seven cents is not a big deal; stealing, though, is, no matter the amount. I've let Luke know about this recent development; I'm certain that if he had known about this prior to the experiment, it would not have continued. He's wild and crazy (for God and for the sheer joy of it) but not illegal or deceitful.

Out of the rare chance that a postal worker or someone from USPS may happen upon my blog, please forgive the previous offense. Prosecute me for writing about this without my brother's permission; don't take him to jail.

I'm still impressed with my brother and still love knowing that he is always up to something. I will continue to seek *legal* ways to prank my friends (I hear, literally hear, bungee-jumping sheep can scare a grown man to death if it falls when he opens his door, partly because it got me first). Please don't start abusing our postal system; it doesn't need anything to bother it. And with all the bothers it does have, it does a great job. Even if a key to an Escort is floating around out there.

Always up to something

I received yesterday perhaps the funniest piece of mail ever sent to me. It was addressed to Mr. E. Rider of Dayton, OH with the return address of Adam Copeland, San Antonio, TX. My roommate Will brought the mail in last night and dispersed it to Mal, Chad and I accordingly. When he came to that envelope, he tossed it to me and said, "Put a stamp on it next time." In the upper right hand corner of the envelope where a stamp is usually found were the stamped words "Returned for Postage." Why had I sent a letter to E. Rider in Ohio? Had I forgotten to put a stamp to make sure it got there?

Nope. Upon looking at the hand-writing on the envelope, I remembered a conversation I had with Luke (my brother) last week. He said he was curious about the postal system and wanted to try something out; thus, he sent this letter to a legitimate address in Ohio (to a false name - -Mr. E. Rider, a.k.a. Mystery Writer) without postage, but put my address as the return address. Therefore, he was able to mail me a letter without paying postage. Hilarious! He beat the system ... and may have committed mail fraud. I got online this morning to www.usps.com to find out about mail fraud, but most of the available information had to do with scams and mail bombs, neither of which fit this category. Luke told me that now that he knows this little loophole, he's not going to start abusing it or anything, even though the letter got to me in a mere six days. Six days! My mom mailed me a key to one of our vehicles before Thanksgiving so I could pick up the car at the airport and it never got to me! Yet my brother can send a letter to some made up person in Dayton, put my return address on there and it gets to me in less than a week for free! Unbelievable!

To be honest, I have given some thought to how this could be used for pranks of some sort. Some of my friends and I are exchanging a ceramic cat from our Christmas party, playing an elaborate game of hot potato -- whoever has it last loses, I guess. The cat's made trips to Colorado and Nebraska already; with all the traveling I have coming up in February I'm not going to be surprised at all if he shows up at one of my destinations. But the possibilities of anonymous mail arriving at your box, sent to someone you don't know yet your return address printed on the envelope, unsure of whether to open it to view the contents or not. (Although now that I'm making these thoughts public, I'm giving myself away.) Oh, devious scheming, what joy you bring!

Luke provided me with a good laugh last night, which is nothing new. He, more than anyone else, can make me laugh with the slightest effort. I love the way his mind thinks, searching outside the box and coming up with incredible ideas that make me think, "Why didn't I think of that?" We've been extremely blessed to enjoy such a close relationship, brothers in every sense of the word. He challenges me, encourages me, makes me think, and I do the same for him. I'm lucky, fortunate, blessed, however one wants to describe it, to have him as my bro. Especially since he's always up to something.

3. Expect to learn

One of my favorite quotes used to be something like this, "I don't like people who think they know everything because they give a bad name to those of us who do." Ha ha ha, right? My friends like to tease me about knowing way too much about way too obscure trivia and information (to call it knowledge would be a bit presumptuous). "Cliff Claven" has been mentioned in reference to me recently, with a good laugh following from all. Not too long ago I finished a book called The Know-It-All, for goodness sakes. I love watching "Jeopardy!" and trying to compete against the real contestants; I also like it because I don't keep up with the money I lose when I miss one. One of my favorite games of all time is Trivial Pursuit. Maybe all this interest in knowledge and the way I dispense it is why I've such a fear of being arrogant and dislike that quality so much; but I'll analyze myself later.

Trivia is one thing; being a know-it-all when it comes to God is another. The former can be amusing; the latter disconnects one from the opportunity to share anything you may really know about God. The impression I get from those outside Christianity, whatever category they are placed in, is that we need to watch ourselves very carefully in how we go about dispensing what we know; I think we're marked. The impression has to do with the attitude of "I've got all the right answers for you." We are the chosen, the blessed, the right ones; which, when in the correct context, is the truth. But if you remember, we need to be sure we're informed about our context before those words are revealed because they don't mean the same thing to everyone.

My being "chosen" and "blessed" sounds like you're not and can't be. My "right" forces you to be wrong. My "saved" makes you condemned, even though I say I believe it's only for God to know. Confusion usually follows.

Expecting and being open to learn, whatever or wherever the situation may be, is much like Peter going to visit Cornelius in Acts 10. Peter sees a vision from God; God actually sends it three times to possibly make sure Peter gets it -- you ever find yourself learning the same lesson over and over again? The messages from the sheet with various animals? All of God's creation is clean because He made it; be open to trying new things; if you are told by Me to kill and eat something you think is unclean, kill and eat it because I said so; there's a new day dawning on the religious horizon -- it's a law of love, not a law to point to how far short we fall. When Peter then goes to Cornelius' house, probably wondering what to make of the vision and how it relates to why he's going to visit a Gentile, he has a choice in reacting to this: I know what I know and won't vary from it or let's see what God's got in store.

Thankfully, he went with the "let's see" and not only helped in converting that household, allowed himself to be converted as well. Expecting to learn new things, especially from what we hold dearest and sacred, is not high on many priority lists. It's not an easy and simple task or expectation. But it's necessary; it's so needed. We can't wall ourselves up with what we know; God is our fortress, not our knowledge. God is our protection, not our intellect.

The more I learn, the more I realize I don't know. That's not only humbling, but refreshing: the height, depth, width, and breadth of my God gives me freedom to search for him and know that everywhere I go, every place I seek, a fingerprint of his will be waiting for me:

If I go up to heaven, you are there; if I go down to the place of the dead, you are there. If I ride the wings of the morning, if I dwell by the farthest oceans, even there your hand will guide me, and your strength will support me. I could ask the darkness to hide me and the light around me to become night -- but even in darkness I cannot hide from you. To you the night shines as bright as day. Darkness and light are both alike to you.

David, Psalm 139 (New Living Translation)

So we don't lose heart. There are things we cannot grasp, but so much that we can learn about his glory and righteousness. Expect it, and see that viewing ourselves as learners softens us and gives us a gentle spirit in our interactions with others, better allowing the spirit of love and grace to flow.

Neighbors update

As I walked to the mailbox yesterday, I say that boy I mentioned in the blog yesterday at the four-way stop. Turns out, he was much younger than my middle school neighbor; I didn't recognize him at all. He looked to be about eight or nine. As I walked towards up the street, he began eyeing me suspiciously; then, my phone rang and I asked myself why I'd brought it along for a two-walk up the street. The little guy looked lost and scared and trying to hide it; when I turned left to go to the mailboxes, he vanished from sight.

I pulled out stacks of mail that had accumulated from the past two days and began walking back, off the phone and looking for him. When I turned onto Hedgestone, I saw him in front of my house, but he kept walking down the street away from me. I guess he's been taught to stay away from strangers. My next-door neighbors had just returned from somewhere, which was another clue that this wasn't their son.

I'm not sure who this mysterious little guy was, but I'm going to be much more aware of opportunities that may arise and take advantage of them immediately.

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If you've not played the game "Loaded Questions" you've missed out. Several of my friends came over last night and we had such a good time, especially picking on and laughing at each other. Each person gets a piece of paper and writing instrument and everybody takes turns asking questions from the cards provided. The person asking the question for the round is the guesser -- she must guess who said what to the question she asked. The questions are great: What is your favorite movie line? If you could have one person's face as wallpaper in your room, whose would it be? (Adam was the most common answer.) If you could bring one famous person back from the dead, who would it be? What will you be doing ten years from now?

This may not have anything to do with the game, but every time I've played, the side conversations that go on and the leaps and misunderstandings taken from conversations are hysterical. Actually, the leaps and misunderstandings taken from conversations regardless of what I'm doing with my friends is hysterical, so maybe all we need is something other than "The Life Aquatic" to facilitate that.

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There were a record number of visits to this blog last week -- thanks! I appreciate your continued interest and frequent stops; with so much stuff out there for your enjoyment and interest, thanks for dropping by to check in with me. (Who knows, it may just be rubbernecking...) Regardless, thanks and have a beautiful week.

Neighbors

I've been living at the 915 for almost a year now; it will be a year in April. I affectionately call it "the 915" because I want to try to sound cool, in the same manner that "90210" was cool because it was just referred to by its numbers or "The OC" being short for Orange County (they even named the TV show that). It hasn't really caught on and I think I just come across as someone trying too hard to add another phrase or word to an already crowded lingo or attempting to make my life more hip than it probably is. Oh well, it's fun and either way it gets a laugh -- even if it's at me, I'm ok with that.

As I drove home from lunch today after church, I noticed that one of my neighbor's kids was standing outside his house on the sidewalk like he was waiting for the bus. I think he's in middle school; when Will and I would get up and run a few months ago (which we've not done since Thanksgiving -- still recovering, I guess), we would see him come bounding out of the house, through the yard to the sidewalk to wait on the bus to take him to school. It was pretty funny a couple of times because he didn't realize we were out there (recuperating from the 2-3 mile jog we'd just finished) until he made it to the sidewalk. There was a bit of embarassment on his face, but not too much. And, of course, we didn't say anything other than, "Hi," and, "Good morning."

Which is kind of sad, I think, but unfortunately about all I would dare to say. In the world that this kid is growing up him, for all I know, he could think that he's living next door to four gay guys (rest assured, that's not the case). That a situation like that is conceivable to someone that age (and it may not be, but one never knows) is really bothersome and sad. And I'm hesitant in approaching him or any of the neighbor kids I see because I don't want to be seen, and I don't think any of my roommates would either, as the creepy guy talking to kids trying to befriend them and whatnot. It's so awful that that is the world in which we live.

I can check online to find out if there is a convicted pedophile living near me. I can pay for a background search online for someone if I know their name and address. Actually, I could just randomly search a name, pick one of the ones that comes up, and for a certain fee find out about that person. All these secretive ways to find out about people without having to actually meet them. All this communication now to interact without interfacing in the flesh. All these modern conveniences to save time, cut corners, make things easier end up taking away simple joys, common courtesy, and more time than before.

Each has its own needed place. For example, unfortunately, but wisely, we do background searches on anyone volunteering to work with the youth and children at Northside. It's sad we have to, but if it serves as another layer of protection for the youth and children, we'll take it. (The insurance demands it, too, by the way.) But even though it's sad, I don't want to apologize for it; I hope it comforts parents and others to know that we take seriously our role in teaching and sharing Jesus to their children.

All this to say that the preteen boy next door looked sad as I passed him, a bit despondent like he wanted to be outside playing but didn't have anyone to join him or didn't know what to do. I said hi as I came in, but that was it. I don't if he's still out there, but I'm going to go to our mailbox up the street, hopefully getting a chance to introduce myself and say hi. Nothing weird, nothing odd. A neighbor saying hi, beginning a friendship. In the midst of all this sadness, these unfortunate circumstances, and brokenness a simple hi and a smile can go a long way. I may only get a hi and a smile back, but maybe it can be a start. Maybe this can be a start to me being the neighbor I want to be but have been scared to be because of what I fear others may see or think.

It's about time.

2. Be informed

One of the things I'm learning by working with teenagers is how easily one can become outdated. Though I'm not yet 25, meaning that I still get labeled as a young person (which is fine; I am and that's great), I sometimes feel ancient when talking with my middle and high school kids. Or I sense they're holding back, unsure of how I'd respond to what they're listening to, watching, entertained by, etc. I want to be able to converse with them, which means I need to know some things going on in their world, what things would allow a connection to be made between us. With them guarding their trust and being naturally wary of adults (even ones my age), common ground can be tough to find, sending me to their world to find it. This dynamic presents me with a dilema: seeking God's holiness versus exposure to things unholy. It's the conflict of being in the world but not of the world.

The incarnation is a great example of what to do with this dilema. Though humanity had gone astray from its intended purposes and origins, had become sinful and prideful in that sin, God made himself like us to redeem our brokenness and way-wardness. He became sin for us, taking on himself the rottenness of us all. When I think about that as a model for mission, it allows me to see myself as an extension of Christ in redeeming humanity back to its intended role in creation. Instead of focusing and worrying about the filth I'll be exposed to, I look for signs that speak to the cries of a heart longing for fulfillment. Instead of being uptight about becoming a sinner (which is so strange because I am regardless of what I'm around) because of my surroundings, I look for others to journey with me towards the Redeemer.

But what about holiness? Won't being exposed to sin taint me or fill my mind with smut or present me with temptations? Of course it will. So will sitting on my duff; trials and attacks are going to come regardless. We've been born into a war that's been raging for a long time; to go about ignorant of that is asking to be taken out; losing before even realizing you're fighting. I've missed out on the intention of holiness and what it means for a long time. To me, it was being spotless and pure and undefiled. It was all of God's qualities rolled into one, something we'll receive after this life, but for now, only something to aspire to.

I think about that now and wonder if there can't be more. Is that really holiness? Is that really perfection? Is that really God? Jesus was holy and hung out with the filth of society. Jesus was holy and talked to demons and sinners. He was killed for being so inclusive, more inclusive than anyone's ever been. How does that add up?

Allow holiness to be analogous to light for a second. When John writes about light, he talks about it coming into darkness, and when it does, it is no longer dark. It's brilliantly light. As we're changed and transformed more and more into his image, into his likeness, into his holiness, we don't worry about our lights being snuffed out. We don't worry about the present darkness; we glory in the pressing, expanding, intruding light.

When we are informed, then, of the darkness; when we know what's causing hurt and pain in the world and in lives; when we understand with our minds and emotions why the darkness might seem attractive, we are better equipped to shine our light. We understand that the gentle presence of a candle may be the warm glow someone needs, allowing them to enter the presence of light without being blinded and running away from it. Shining our light is not like spotlight-hunting: find an animal, spotlight it, it freezes because it's blinded, shoot it, another soul for God. Please, no. Maybe that's what we (Christianity) have been doing to the world, sending them back to the darkness. Why don't we throw away our spotlights and allow the brilliance of the Sun/Son to awaken those in darkness; allow his radiance to be the light we shine.

And then we all will be changed with ever-increasing glory to likeness of the One and Only, the Holy One, who came into our filth and brought us back to life.

1. Be vulnerable

"Hey, before you go, one more thing. I, uh, wanted to, umm," he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a couple of seconds and continues, "express something to you." Oh boy. Here goes. "I, um, am interested ... in you and am interested in, um, uh," -can a guy have pregant pauses?- "taking you out sometime because I'd like to get to know you better" -this sounds so canned and cheesy; am I really saying this?- "because the time I have spent with you has been very fun and comfortable and I, uh, um, I don't know, I guess, just wanted to say that and let you know and I guess that, um, uh, well," he scratches his head in an embarrassed fashion to try to look embarrassed and cute and thoughtful, "I guess, I don't know, I'm not expecting a response now and there's not really anything I'm expecting you to say or answer," -oh, goodness, is this ever going to end? why don't I just shut up, tuck tail, and leave before I throw up?- "but I guess I just wondered what your interest in that would be?"

I just wanted a chance to be honest. Given that chance, it was such a relief when it wasn't met with repulsion, as is sometimes feared. (I felt that I might throw-up at some point, and feared she would after I'd said what I did -- what a relief.) It takes a really good friend to hear that and, after the two of them have honestly and openly talked about things, remain good friends.

I think this was really the first time I'd only wanted to be honest and wasn't looking for anything else, whether a specific answer or confession or whatever. I'm kind of disappointed in myself with that realization, but it's true. That makes such a difference (and did), especially in the aftermath (like it was some catastrophic event... sheesh, I'm so ridiculously over-the-top sometimes. Sorry.) Makes such a difference. It really does make all the difference. Because my statement of just wanting to be honest is then completely true; and when the recepient of my honesty responds with the same, what follows is determined by how two people respond to each other's honesty. And so it went.

This may be one of the things church-people can learn in order to disguise themselves as followers of Jesus: be open, honest, and vulnerable. When that truly occurs, it's difficult to respond with something other than the same vulnerability and honesty. As scary as it is, whatever the topic of conversation or situation, it's so peaceful on this side of it. Yes, it's a risk to put yourself out there, feeling unprotected and bare. But isn't that what's been done for us? Didn't the Creator break down every barrier that kept us seperated? What vulnerability he showed in becoming like us. Living as we do. Confined as we are in these bodies. Dealing with the emotions with the same capacity we have. Hurting like us. Loving like us. Dying like us. Complete openness, complete exposure, on such a grander, global, universal scale. The Maker become made. To redeem us to the honesty, openness, and vulnerability we were originally created to have in relationship with him.

And when I think about that, all I've got is this: Wow.

Of needles, pricks, and holes in my arms

It's happened again, though this time I knew I didn't have to reach for my wand -- but that was about all I knew. The last time (a year and a half ago) I went to give blood to have it sent off and tested for tissue matches for the National Marrow Donor Program, I passed out while it was being drawn. If you've never passed out, it will be difficult to empathize; it feels like waking up with your memory erased, not recognizing any surroundings or knowing anything that's happened in your previous lifetime. What made that experience even funnier was that I was reading the fifth Harry Potter book at the time, so when I came to, I thought I'd been captured by Voldemort or one of his cronies. I had kicked off one of my sandals when I passed out and had someone tapping on my shoulder and telling me it was going to be alright; I figured some spell had been cast on me, apparently some memory-erasing charm.

Well, it worked out last time; I was allowed to lie down on a stretcher and have the blood drawn from my other arm. I mentioned that story this morning to Lilly, the woman drawing blood from me at Labcorp, the same place I'd gone before for this. I was led to the same chair, but I did not request to be taken straight to the stretcher; surely it wouldn't happen again.

I had received a call a week and a half ago that my name came up as a match for a 32-year old male somewhere in the States who is in need of a bone marrow transplant. My chances of being the best match for him, at this point, are 1 in 15; the blood that was drawn this morning is going to be tested for tissue matches and other things I can't remember from the brochure sent to me, and in about 6 to 8 weeks I'll know if I'm the closest match for him. So I went in at 7:40 this morning to Labcorp (they open at 7:30) hoping to get in and out rather quickly.

After Lilly inserted the needle, without me looking by the way, and the blood began to flow, I thought, "Hey, I'm going to make it this time." Yeah, whatever. As I was sitting in that straight back chair, I began to feel light-headed with my vision acting like a sputtering projector -- the wall I was looking at coming in and out of focus. My mind seemed to be getting cloudy. I was trying to breathe deeply, in my nose, out my mouth, but I couldn't fight it. I passed out.

But I didn't realize I passed out. When I opened my eyes, I saw two strange ladies looking at me, holding my arm and my head. They looked concerned, which confused me because I felt as if I'd just awaken from a great, deep sleep. It's nice of them to be waking me up, I thought, but I was getting some good rest. Then I realized I wasn't sure where I was. And my left arm hurt a bit. I was given a cup of water, which tasted really good, and a peppermint. It was about then I figured out what was going on and I rolled my eyes in my mind. (I thought if I did that literally it might freak them out.) They moved me to a stretcher and let me rest for a bit.

I was finally able to donate the amount of blood needed for the testing, but not before being stuck in the arm in three different places (my left arm, in the same place, twice; two different veins in my right arm). Apparently, I don't bleed well or quickly. One would think that's a good thing. My left arm is a bit sore right now, but the Garfield bandaid is comforting. And manly. The only thing that hurts on my right arm is the bandage that pulling at my arm hair; it will be taken off rather soon, I believe.

They gave me a sucker to get some blood sugar in me and kept me lying down for a while after all was through to make sure I'd be ok. A genteman and his granddaughter had come in after I got moved to the stretcher and were next to me having their blood taken. He told me, after hearing some commotion while I was back there, that he almost walked out; he wasn't too sure he wanted to go back there after hearing what had happened to me. He laughed and I laughed, as did the workers working with us. Then he switched places with the little girl, probably seven or eight, who had a lollipop in her mouth, smiling a big smile, looking over at some poor guy laid out on a stretcher who couldn't take having blood drawn and when he did, he couldn't properly bleed. Sheesh.

A New Path

It's been a while since I've dabbled in poetry, but as I was staring at the screen this midday, I was able to throw a few phrases together. It's a nod-of-the-hat to "The Road Not Taken" but instead of explaining it away, I'll shut up and let it be.

Though the morning stars grow dimmer
In the aftermath of dawn,
The sky reveals a splendor
That christens daylight's charm.
Each new beginning frightens
The just-trod path behind
Where familiarity was breeding
A stale heart, not yet run wild.
The next step, though, is taken
Through a shaded grove of trees
Where the daylight does not guide as clearly
Yet its presence is perceived.
The path is not a marked one;
Its course belongs to me.
And I will keep a-troddin'
Through the uncertainty of trees.

I guess I won

I did not get my vehicle washed yesterday and it rained last night while I was in the elders' meeting. Looking at my truck this morning, I knew I had to get something done; I waited in a line of cars for almost 30 minutes to go through the car wash at a gas station. But it looks so much better now. And, it's a gorgeous day, which gives me hope that it's not going to rain for a while...we shall see.

I beginning something new in a matter of ten minutes: I'm going to help coach basketball. The school that resides on the back of our property has two guys' teams, middle and high school, and I'll be mainly helping with the high school. I'm not sure what to expect, but I'm excited. I've been wanting to do some coaching (YMCA-type stuff, soccer or basketball) and this presented itself right before Christmas. So, I've got to get changed and head over to the gym.

The Waiting Game

I'm trying to hold out and not give in. I'd rather not make the first move because it's inevitable what will happen once I do. It won't be the end of the world for me to do so, but what would follow sure could be depressing and unfair. I'd rather wait for her move until I go as planned. And I've been waiting for a couple of weeks now and all the while she's been teasing me, toying with my emotions: here I go, no, I'm going to wait; all the signs point to yes, but nothing comes of it, no follow through. And so I remain unclear, unfocused, and look like I'm in pretty bad shape. I manage to make it along fine, but acting on this would bring so much clarity and beauty to my life right now. Like night and day. It would so refreshing to wash my truck, but I don't think it's going to rain until I do so, which means Mother Nature wins again.

I may have sounded a bit upset, disillusioned, bothered and frustrated during my last entry, though none of those words crossed my mind. It was one of those times that I'd been having some things happen combined with some conversations about things like that that spilled over because it needed to get out. They were my thoughts and could very easily be inaccurate and wrong, which is ok; I realize I'm in a constant state of learning and growing. The things I get right I'll hold on to; the ones I'm mistaken about I'll grow from.

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I saw Spanglish last night; what a great, funny, enjoyable movie. This is not an Adam-Sandler-movie like Happy Gilmore and Billy Madison. He's in it and does a good job, but it's more about Paz Vega and Tea Leoni and their daughters. The last ten minutes of the movie, as Mike Cope wrote several weeks ago, are so refreshing and just make the movie worth it. Of course, I found Paz Vega completely breath-taking and enchanting; I guess that significantly helps my opinion of the movie, but even with the crush I now have on her, it's great.

Risk

I feel like I've been learning about mystery the past few months. As I've been moving from a modern paradigm to a postmodern one (post- simply meaning "emerging from and out of"), I find myself less hung up on having a definitive answer for everything and even thinking that that is possible. It's been tough on many levels and in many instances: conversations with teens, how I view the world and creation, reconciling my feelings and thoughts, and what words I use and choose while teaching. I consider myself to be fairly deliberate, especially with my words; I'm continually surprised at myself for certain word choices and answers, especially involving God. Qualifiers such as "best" and "greatest" are used by me describing aspects of God and Christianity, just as a scientist would describe a theory or idea, or a consumer would describe a product. (By the way, I consider those words to be tied greatly to modern thinking.)

As I write this, I'm asking myself the question you may have on your mind: What about absolute truth? Do you not believe in any? Of course I do, just not absolute truth as propositional truth. Truth is much more than any statement, fact, or idea. Truth is much more than a clever (or stupid) syllogism. As a postmodern, I naturally shy away from all-encompassing labels and definitions, especially for myself. I don't want to be known as a youth minister; that's one of the things I do, but it alone does not define me. Part of me does not want the monicker of Christian to be placed on me, due to the almost exclusive association it now has with the evangelical right. (Here's the kicker: I'm part of the evangelical right, to an extent, but consider myself beyond it even if others would place that on me. And what bothers me about that group is the impression from people that they are closed-minded, judgemental, and hateful towards those with whom they don't agree. I don't want any part of that label.) I know labels are difficult, if not impossible to escape; so either it's time for new ones or reclaiming the others to redeemingly redefine them.

But (after that little tangent) I started writing this morning to make some comments about mystery. Mystery is not only the absence of definition. When thinking of what I've been learning about the mystery of God, several other words and ideas come to mind: wonder, awe, creativity, majesty, peaceful unknowing of things. There's a fine line between being mysterious and putting all your cards on the table. (I'm actually mentally battling that right now in other regards.) I don't think God has kept anything from us out of spite or something else; what we don't know about him is due to our lack of ability, senses, capacity, etc. to deal with it -- he's just beyond us. Yet, in Jesus, God has been completely revealed to humanity. If anything, God's a paradox: mysterious and revealed, loving and just, holy and jealous.

What I've been telling myself the past few months is that I'm attempting to embrace mystery. With God, with myself, and with others. Like with my interest in a girl, for example. I've come to understand that girls want guys to be honest with them; except that's not completely accurate; they want the guys they are interested in to be honest with them. If it's a guy who's a bit creepy or odd or they are simply not interested in, all the honesty in the world will do nothing but keep him in the "Oh-here-he-comes-again-*sigh*-can-I-run-away" category. But if it's a guy she's interested in, an honest expression of his interest is highly desirable. Yet even that comes with qualifiers: it can't be too much too soon because that's forward, odd, and jumping much farther ahead than she would like, even if it's the guy trying to have an open conversation on blunt terms. (This happens because the guy believes the girl wants him to be honest, so he does, but finds out honesty does not mean sharing every thought that crosses his mind.)

So with all this ambiguity, a game develops. And if you don't play the game, you're automatically out, such as when a guy tries to be completely up-front, bold, and blunt -- he takes away any mystery he might possess, which takes away some of the fun from the girl who might've been interested in him. The game is dependent on the guy figuring out if the girl is sending hints that she would be open for him to ask her out. But even if a guy wins that round (he guesses correctly, asks her, they go out, and have fun), another game develops: When do I call? How do I communicate that I had a good time without sounding like I want to marry her? How do you say there is a growing interest you'd like to pursue, without being overanxious or needy?

(Note: The past couple of paragraphs emanate from a collection of experiences, mostly my own, but others as well. I don't know exactly what triggered this plunge, but once I started I couldn't stop. This is probably some of the content for one of those previously-posted books I may write.)

From my perspective, making the phone call is one of the most intimidating things a guy does, especially if there's been a friendship. By making the call to ask her out, he takes the friendship and dangles it over a cliff, but seemingly has no control of its future. Her answer does. Yet even if she answers yes, the friendship has been changed -- nothing survives a dangling over a cliff without being changed. Sometimes it's good; sometimes it's not. I guess that's why it's said (well, it was in the 80s), "Love is a battlefield."

Bring its scenes before me

I love unexpected joy, which I experienced this morning through our first and second assemblies, as well as in the high school class: it's good to be back at Northside. I'd missed three consecutive Sundays due to being in Alabama and on the Ski Retreat. It'd been a while since I'd been in both assemblies for their entirety; actually, it'd been a while since I'd been in one assembly in its entirety. Things come up after class or in first service that don't always allow me to make it in.

I love singing. One of the songs that really touched me this morning was the one we sang as we took the juice during communion, "Jesus, Keep Me Near the Cross". Such moving words, such honesty evoked from within. A simple tune and it so easily allowed me to make it my prayer to God. What joy to be part of the family of faith.

Possible titles

I spent some time yesterday on the River Walk journaling and writing. I'm hesitant to make the following a resolution for fear that very act will keep it from occuring; nevertheless, I know if I'm ever going to attempt to write some type of material, be it a book, novel, short story, article, etc., I've got to start somewhere.

Funny thing is, the title is an awful place to start. Whatever I come up with will probably be changed, not to mention the mental battles I'll wage about the writing not matching-up with the title -- thus the change. Misstep or not, it something that might get me started and I'd like to share some of the possible titles I've come up with so far if I were to do a book:

How to Keep Girls From Falling in Love with You
How to Win Moms and Scare Away Daughters
Reflections and Musings
My Life (So Far)
Journey
What Church-People Should Do to Be Mistaken for Disciples of Jesus
I'm Much Too Young to Act This Old

Please extend grace and remember the old adage: Don't judge a book by its cover, title or author, especially if it's me.

Those fine lines

A friendship with someone of the opposite sex is much easier when there is no interest from one to the other. But then stinkin' curiosity starts the mind a-wonderin' and speculating about whether that interest might be reciprocated. If there is an ounce of analytical thought within, a spiraling downward soon follows in thought of probabilities and possibilities. Cluttering of the mind, nervousness in that person's presence, previously-unknown quirky mannerisms manifest and you realize that you've grown accustomed to living upside-down for longer stretches of time. As much as you'd like to feel and act like an adult, which supposedly you are, it's middle school all over again -- except your voice doesn't crack as often.

Sometimes, I really hate that I like to think so much; it really drives me crazy in these kind of situations.

Responding to disasters

I went online just a bit ago to the Red Cross's website looking for possible ways to help the victims of the recent tsunami and its devastation. One of the easiest and needed ways to help the efforts is a monetary contribution, but I was looking for something hands-on. A few of my friends and I have discussed taking a trip this year to Europe just for the fun of it; I began thinking today that it would be incredible to take that money and make the trip one to aid in the relief and rebuilding efforts. Wisely, the Red Cross had a very accessible link to find out about helping in this way, but the article the link sent me to was not encouraging as I'd hoped.

It said something like this, "The Red Cross has many trained volunteers in position to deal with specific issues, such as water and sanitation, electric and power, with many more in reserve. At this time, this is not an area of needed volunteers." It then went on to redirect me to other things I could do. Initially, I was disappointed to read that; what a great way to be Jesus to others by helping to rebuild from the brokenness in those lives and surroundings. I could go over there, not even mention God, church, religion, or even Jesus, but share The Story and Gospel all the while. Going over there to offer hugs, listening ears, smiles, hope, and a helping hand would do so much more than prepared lessons; it would be showing faith by and through the works, as James talks about.

But I'm not too disappointed. I don't think anyone in those areas would want someone coming over there to help who couldn't help at all. I could easily picture myself getting over there and being more a problem than part of the solution. As I think more about what was written on the website, I'm glad the Red Cross has so many trained specialists who can handle what needs to be done for basics to be re-established. Not that there isn't a place for what I'd like to do -- namely, encourage, smile, hug, cry, mourn, share, and be present -- all those are needed as well. The timing, though, is important. A dental hygenist doesn't use the froggy-sucky-thing until after the fluoride and water have been used to clean the teeth -- first things first. And to stay with that stretch of an analogy, some can occur simultaneously -- fluoride, water, froggy to the back teeth, fluoride, water, froggy to the front teeth, etc.

I checked into airline flights to Bangkok, Thailand, which are $1,300 round-trip including hotel. The hotel looked really nice; not sure how or if Bangkok was affected, but that gives me an idea of the kind of cost I'd be looking at.

Ahh, to be young and idealistic, adventurous and noble, naive and willing to dream impossible dreams. I pray for those dreams to keep coming without end. Though I may not chase after all of them, there will be a chase, a pursuit, an adventure to continually live in The Story of Creation and Transformation.

the phantom, skiing, and exhaustion

Before I left for the ski retreat, I saw The Phantom of the Opera at the movies. It's an incredible musical and I really enjoyed it when I saw in on Broadway several years ago. Watching it as a movie, though, was a fantastic experience. I understood so much more of the story, the music, and the emotion of it all. Like I usually do when I get a song stuck in my head but don't know the lyrics, I bought the CD today after lunch and am listening to it as I write. Les Mis is still my favorite show, but Phantom is up there. Moulin Rouge's success helped get Phantom to the screen; I wonder if Phantom's success will get the musical version of Les Mis to the screen as well.

The ski retreat went very well. No injuries and lots of fun and relationship-building, so I consider it a success. We had great weather and conditions for skiing; the beginners picked it up very well and were skiing blues by the end of the trip. I realized that these trips are not only physically exhausting (riding in a bus for 18 hours is not ideal for comfort, though it's such a blessing and the best/great option we have for this trip -- and that doesn't even get into the drain that skiing is on you) but mentally as well. It's amazing how many different scenarios a mind can imagine when it feels responsible for a group. The fire alarm went off in our lodge after midnight on New Year's and we had to go outside and wait for the fire department to show up. Thankfully, none of my kids were involved; but it was a nervous moment for me. The teens behaved very well, though a few were a bit too daring for me on the slopes. But everyone was kept safe, on the mountain and in transit.

I've taken today off to not only recover from the tiredness my body feels, but the tiredness my mind is experiencing. Anna and I went to Alamo Cafe for lunch; she flies out tomorrow around 1:00. It was great having her on the trip; I'm excited about her coming back this summer for another internship.

As far as my reading goes, I'm into the Ss of The Know-It-All and it continues to be a fascinating read. I've got all my new books on my desk in my room and I can't wait to get to them. Which is where I'm going now.