I have had so many things on my mind lately, it's incredible. I figured I would jot them down here quick just to get them all straight.
1. Personal ministry vs. mass ministry. I seek out personal relationships with people, others try to get the Gospel message out as fast as they can and as blunt as they can. Both are good, I think. More on that later?
2. Music and how it influences us.
3. Getting what your heart desires... and not getting it. DUDE JOB. Wow, that man was tested. It says the desires of his heart were taken away from him, yet he still held strong to the one true desire. How often I get carried away by this world and the desires here, when all I need is an eternal focus.
4. Friendships. God has brought amazing people into my life, to encourage me, restore me, lead me to the Truth. Some He's given to admonish me, and I definitely need that. Many of my good friends I would never have guessed would be in my life like they are now. It's so beautiful, and I can't thank Him enough for them.
5. Global warming... more than just a cycle.
Most of these things stemmed from a few too many conversations with a good friend of mine, but he'll get what's coming to him eventually. I'll bring graphs. hehe.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Reflections
Sometimes it's incredible what you can find in another person's writing. The Bible is the perfect example of this: it holds so many stories that pertain to you at different times in your life. Wait. Here's the thing. I always talk about "you." I think that needs to stop in this post. Me. It pertains to me at different times in my life. For example, the story of Jonah. Jonah's little issue with God was where I was at a little over a week ago. I won't pretend that everything is better- the cost of discipleship is high and being a Christian isn't always easy. This world is tough, straight up. But because I have God in my life, because I trust Him I can be more than a conquerer (the words of Paul ring true).
Lately I've been a lot like David as well. One Psalm of "Lord, you are awesome, I love this, I love you, life is so right right now!", one Psalm of "What in the world are you doing, God? Come and save me now please!!!! This stinks." And they're within the same day. Is there such a thing as spiritual bi-polarity?
Other writings I find reflections of myself as well. Whether it be a character in an Austen book, one of Hawthorne's strong feminine roles, or a quip from a comedian that rings true. I am also an avid blog reader, believe it or not. I was reading a friend's blog today and both of them had reflections of myself in them- it's incredible. It's also very encouraging to know that others struggle with the same issues that I have/I do. One of them is anger. Looking at me now, you probably would never believe that I was an intensely angry person up to until a few years ago. I internalized my anger and let it eat away at everything- including my friendships. When I was at home, however, that's where I felt comfortable to voice my anger and would often take out everything that I pent up on my family members- it's a wonder they still love me. The stupidest little things, like not being able to play my piano lesson perfectly would send me flailing, yelling, and crying to my room. My sister, who was my piano teacher did not understand it and neither did my mom. But they were patient with me. As time progressed I internalized more and more anger. My outlet would not be my family members, rather, it would be myself. No, I wouldn't cut. No, I didn't turn anorexic or bulimic. But I would beat myself up about the stupidest things that I could not control. I would become emotionally out-of-wack- there's no other way to describe that.
But then my faith started becoming real. I started seeing the chinks in my armor. Why didn't I just talk to the person who had hurt me? Why did I bury it when God says "in your anger, do not sin"? In my anger, I did sin. How could I let it get to that point? God started showing me discernment in a lot of situations- when to talk, when to be silent. He started to show me that the amount of anger I had was not healthy. Most of all, He gave me the gift of writing- a healthy outlet for my pent up frustrations. And then he put a notebook in my hands and said "Write it to me." I listened and it has been the most beautiful experience of my life.
Yes, I still struggle with anger issues. Yes, it is still hard for me to confront people about things so that I am not angry. But with God at my side, even though it's not easy, I can trust Him with this anger and approach His throne of grace every time I screw up. For that, I am eternally thankful.
Lately I've been a lot like David as well. One Psalm of "Lord, you are awesome, I love this, I love you, life is so right right now!", one Psalm of "What in the world are you doing, God? Come and save me now please!!!! This stinks." And they're within the same day. Is there such a thing as spiritual bi-polarity?
Other writings I find reflections of myself as well. Whether it be a character in an Austen book, one of Hawthorne's strong feminine roles, or a quip from a comedian that rings true. I am also an avid blog reader, believe it or not. I was reading a friend's blog today and both of them had reflections of myself in them- it's incredible. It's also very encouraging to know that others struggle with the same issues that I have/I do. One of them is anger. Looking at me now, you probably would never believe that I was an intensely angry person up to until a few years ago. I internalized my anger and let it eat away at everything- including my friendships. When I was at home, however, that's where I felt comfortable to voice my anger and would often take out everything that I pent up on my family members- it's a wonder they still love me. The stupidest little things, like not being able to play my piano lesson perfectly would send me flailing, yelling, and crying to my room. My sister, who was my piano teacher did not understand it and neither did my mom. But they were patient with me. As time progressed I internalized more and more anger. My outlet would not be my family members, rather, it would be myself. No, I wouldn't cut. No, I didn't turn anorexic or bulimic. But I would beat myself up about the stupidest things that I could not control. I would become emotionally out-of-wack- there's no other way to describe that.
But then my faith started becoming real. I started seeing the chinks in my armor. Why didn't I just talk to the person who had hurt me? Why did I bury it when God says "in your anger, do not sin"? In my anger, I did sin. How could I let it get to that point? God started showing me discernment in a lot of situations- when to talk, when to be silent. He started to show me that the amount of anger I had was not healthy. Most of all, He gave me the gift of writing- a healthy outlet for my pent up frustrations. And then he put a notebook in my hands and said "Write it to me." I listened and it has been the most beautiful experience of my life.
Yes, I still struggle with anger issues. Yes, it is still hard for me to confront people about things so that I am not angry. But with God at my side, even though it's not easy, I can trust Him with this anger and approach His throne of grace every time I screw up. For that, I am eternally thankful.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Pillows in the hard times
Sometimes we find ourselves in huge valleys in our lives. Problems abound, life hurts, and no situation turns out the way we want it to. It's so hard to see the other side of the valley, or the way to scale the towering wall of rocks. The end never seems in sight when you're in a valley, surrounded by nothing to comfort you or help you out. There is not a friend in sight- no one to reach down to you and help you up. Only rocks– hard, cold rocks.
You yell. "What have I done to deserve this, Lord? You have compassion on my enemies, I see them living an awesome life, but then You go and You do this to me? Why don't you just kill me now, and spare me all this pain? There's no way out from here."
In a whisper God says, "What right have you to be angry?"
You look around, confused. Does He not get it? Does He not understand that you're sitting in the middle of the hardest time in your life, and He's telling you to not be angry? In the midst of all the rocks and the cliffs blocking out any visible light and He's questioning your right to be angry. Wow, some God.
All of the sudden a pillow plops down right next to you. You look around, not sure of where it came from or who could have given it to you. But you take it none the less. It's warm and smells like the sunlight that you have not seen for weeks. You cradle it and rest your head on it. The warmth never leaves it, nor does the scent; you are so pleased with the pillow that you momentarily forget your hardships, your pain, and the jagged rocks all around you. You drift off to sleep...
The next morning you wake up quite abruptly. Underneath your head is only a large rock, surrounded by millions of them, each with a different jagged edge to them. You raise your head, your hands, and stumble to your feet just to be blasted by a strong arctic wind. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" you yell. "AT THIS POINT, KILL ME! IT WOULD BE BETTER FOR ME TO DIE THAN TO LIVE!" The wind does not relent but carries on it the same whisper you heard the night before.
"Do you have a right to be angry about the pillow?" He asks you.
"I DO! I AM ANGRY ENOUGH TO DIE!" you yell back, unafraid of the very one who sent both the pillow and the wind.
The wind begins to die down. "Oh you of little faith," He responds, with a slight giggle in his voice. "You have been concerned about this pillow, though you did nothing to deserve it. I gave it to you and I can take it away too. Trust Me, fear Me, give Me control. I can even save your enemies from destruction, so why wouldn't I be able to save you?"
You fall on your knees, completely dumbfounded. "But, God... this valley is so deep... that wall of rock is so high. I can't even see the sun."
Dust and several small rocks begin to fall from above you. You get dust in your eye as you look up, but it's clear the debris is coming from high up on the wall.
"I can't tell you that it's going to be easy. This valley is deep and the rocks protruding from the wall are sharp. But if you let Me, we can scale this wall together."
He places your hand on the wall and asks, "Do you trust me?"
You yell. "What have I done to deserve this, Lord? You have compassion on my enemies, I see them living an awesome life, but then You go and You do this to me? Why don't you just kill me now, and spare me all this pain? There's no way out from here."
In a whisper God says, "What right have you to be angry?"
You look around, confused. Does He not get it? Does He not understand that you're sitting in the middle of the hardest time in your life, and He's telling you to not be angry? In the midst of all the rocks and the cliffs blocking out any visible light and He's questioning your right to be angry. Wow, some God.
All of the sudden a pillow plops down right next to you. You look around, not sure of where it came from or who could have given it to you. But you take it none the less. It's warm and smells like the sunlight that you have not seen for weeks. You cradle it and rest your head on it. The warmth never leaves it, nor does the scent; you are so pleased with the pillow that you momentarily forget your hardships, your pain, and the jagged rocks all around you. You drift off to sleep...
The next morning you wake up quite abruptly. Underneath your head is only a large rock, surrounded by millions of them, each with a different jagged edge to them. You raise your head, your hands, and stumble to your feet just to be blasted by a strong arctic wind. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" you yell. "AT THIS POINT, KILL ME! IT WOULD BE BETTER FOR ME TO DIE THAN TO LIVE!" The wind does not relent but carries on it the same whisper you heard the night before.
"Do you have a right to be angry about the pillow?" He asks you.
"I DO! I AM ANGRY ENOUGH TO DIE!" you yell back, unafraid of the very one who sent both the pillow and the wind.
The wind begins to die down. "Oh you of little faith," He responds, with a slight giggle in his voice. "You have been concerned about this pillow, though you did nothing to deserve it. I gave it to you and I can take it away too. Trust Me, fear Me, give Me control. I can even save your enemies from destruction, so why wouldn't I be able to save you?"
You fall on your knees, completely dumbfounded. "But, God... this valley is so deep... that wall of rock is so high. I can't even see the sun."
Dust and several small rocks begin to fall from above you. You get dust in your eye as you look up, but it's clear the debris is coming from high up on the wall.
"I can't tell you that it's going to be easy. This valley is deep and the rocks protruding from the wall are sharp. But if you let Me, we can scale this wall together."
He places your hand on the wall and asks, "Do you trust me?"
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Orpheus and Eurydice revisited
I wrote this in about 45 minutes today. It's just a quick, short little story for one of my classes. We were told to rewrite one of Ovid's myths however we wanted, so I chose the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Even if you've never read the myth itself, you will still understand this story. I named it something really cheesy, so I don't want to tell you the title. That was simply a working title anyway. I think my professor will probably like it though.
I’ve always been a writer. More particularly, I’ve always been a poet. Nothing really shows a persons soul quite like poetry. I mean, sure, other writers put their feelings and their views on the world into short stories or novels but they can never really ring true like a short, sweet little poem can. Perhaps that’s why I love poetry so much. Or perhaps it is the fact that you can use poetry in almost any situation. Feeling down? Make your feelings into poetry. Feeling intensely great? Make your feelings into poetry. Need to tell someone a deep, dark secret? Put it into poetry. It’s so versatile.
A few years ago, I met an amazing woman. Well, let me preface this a little bit. As a poet, I have been known to do a few poetry readings. Large audiences are always my goal, but on one particular night only a few people showed up to one of my favorite coffee houses in a neighboring city. I walked onto the stage that night a little upset with the fact that so few people had turned out to hear me speak the words placed so delicately on my heart. But when I looked up into the few people sitting in their chairs, I saw the reason I was on the stage that night. Her name was Eury.
I talked to her all night, we fell in love. She was the only thing I wrote about, the only muse I really ever had. The first word of every sentence was about Eury, the ending was only an ending if she was in it. I had known a time would come when I would yearn after someone like her, but I never knew it would encompass that much of my being. The way she laughed, the way she looked, it was all so beautiful. Loving her was the easiest thing I have ever done.
One night, Eury fell ill. I’ve never seen anyone fall ill quite like that. It was so sudden, so unexpected. As the night raged on into the next day, I saw her love of life completely fade. Even my poetry could not keep the reflective pools in her eyes that I had always known. They became hollow, meaningless pits of blank stares that I had never known. It was like she wanted to pass on into the underworld, leaving me completely alone and lost. She was everything my life had been leading to and now she just lost the will to keep being my everything.
She was taken down into hades the next evening.
I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle the empty place in the bed next to me, I couldn’t see past the stool without a body on it during breakfast. At dinner, I spent time staring at the wall, eating the cold cereal I had inhaled as a bachelor. I had to do something about it. I had to approach the underworld and take them on for all they were. I mean, love conquers all, right? At least that’s what Deep Purple told me.
I crossed the river only knowing two things: 1. I loved Eury. 2. I wouldn’t leave without her. I saw her, I saw the Fates, I knew what I had to do. Poetry poured from between my lips, perfectly encompassing everything that I felt and knew inside of me. If they didn’t let me take Eury back (my beautiful, perfect Eury), then I would die too and stay down there to be with her forever. As long as I was near her, nothing could be wrong, bad, or dark, even if I was in the underworld.
With permission from the gods, I was able to take my Eury home with me. The exquisite specimen that I had known could come back from the dead with me, her only true love. I was overwhelmed, happier than I could ever imagine. I was happier than the moment I met her, than the moment we were married. There was only one stipulation- I could not peer back to see her figure following me. I couldn’t peer into those pools of emotion known as her eyes. As we made the journey, I was forced to keep my head straight, like Lot and his family when they were leaving the burning cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. And like Lot’s wife, I was overcome with the temptation to peek back, just for a moment. The gods would not see my blatant disregard for what they told me to do, nor would they punish me for it. After all, love conquers all. I made them change their minds about having Eury once, I could do it again. My poetry could convince them one more time.
I turned around and saw her, full of beauty like the little porcelin doll my sister had when she was a young girl. I couldn’t look away, and the gods saw that. They took her away from me, a second death. No matter how much I pleaded with them, no matter how long I waited for them to change their minds again, the gods would not relent. I, being man, could not continue to live on the edge of the underworld, begging day after day and minute after minute for my love to be brought back to me.
Now I exist up here. I don’t live, I just exist. Even my poetry just exists, although it has found a new audience with thousands of young women who do nothing but throw themselves at me. But I could never look at another woman again, not after my Eury. If I had to live like this, the world would know it through my poetry and attempt to follow my lead with living a life woman-less.
I’ve always been a writer. More particularly, I’ve always been a poet. Nothing really shows a persons soul quite like poetry. I mean, sure, other writers put their feelings and their views on the world into short stories or novels but they can never really ring true like a short, sweet little poem can. Perhaps that’s why I love poetry so much. Or perhaps it is the fact that you can use poetry in almost any situation. Feeling down? Make your feelings into poetry. Feeling intensely great? Make your feelings into poetry. Need to tell someone a deep, dark secret? Put it into poetry. It’s so versatile.
A few years ago, I met an amazing woman. Well, let me preface this a little bit. As a poet, I have been known to do a few poetry readings. Large audiences are always my goal, but on one particular night only a few people showed up to one of my favorite coffee houses in a neighboring city. I walked onto the stage that night a little upset with the fact that so few people had turned out to hear me speak the words placed so delicately on my heart. But when I looked up into the few people sitting in their chairs, I saw the reason I was on the stage that night. Her name was Eury.
I talked to her all night, we fell in love. She was the only thing I wrote about, the only muse I really ever had. The first word of every sentence was about Eury, the ending was only an ending if she was in it. I had known a time would come when I would yearn after someone like her, but I never knew it would encompass that much of my being. The way she laughed, the way she looked, it was all so beautiful. Loving her was the easiest thing I have ever done.
One night, Eury fell ill. I’ve never seen anyone fall ill quite like that. It was so sudden, so unexpected. As the night raged on into the next day, I saw her love of life completely fade. Even my poetry could not keep the reflective pools in her eyes that I had always known. They became hollow, meaningless pits of blank stares that I had never known. It was like she wanted to pass on into the underworld, leaving me completely alone and lost. She was everything my life had been leading to and now she just lost the will to keep being my everything.
She was taken down into hades the next evening.
I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle the empty place in the bed next to me, I couldn’t see past the stool without a body on it during breakfast. At dinner, I spent time staring at the wall, eating the cold cereal I had inhaled as a bachelor. I had to do something about it. I had to approach the underworld and take them on for all they were. I mean, love conquers all, right? At least that’s what Deep Purple told me.
I crossed the river only knowing two things: 1. I loved Eury. 2. I wouldn’t leave without her. I saw her, I saw the Fates, I knew what I had to do. Poetry poured from between my lips, perfectly encompassing everything that I felt and knew inside of me. If they didn’t let me take Eury back (my beautiful, perfect Eury), then I would die too and stay down there to be with her forever. As long as I was near her, nothing could be wrong, bad, or dark, even if I was in the underworld.
With permission from the gods, I was able to take my Eury home with me. The exquisite specimen that I had known could come back from the dead with me, her only true love. I was overwhelmed, happier than I could ever imagine. I was happier than the moment I met her, than the moment we were married. There was only one stipulation- I could not peer back to see her figure following me. I couldn’t peer into those pools of emotion known as her eyes. As we made the journey, I was forced to keep my head straight, like Lot and his family when they were leaving the burning cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. And like Lot’s wife, I was overcome with the temptation to peek back, just for a moment. The gods would not see my blatant disregard for what they told me to do, nor would they punish me for it. After all, love conquers all. I made them change their minds about having Eury once, I could do it again. My poetry could convince them one more time.
I turned around and saw her, full of beauty like the little porcelin doll my sister had when she was a young girl. I couldn’t look away, and the gods saw that. They took her away from me, a second death. No matter how much I pleaded with them, no matter how long I waited for them to change their minds again, the gods would not relent. I, being man, could not continue to live on the edge of the underworld, begging day after day and minute after minute for my love to be brought back to me.
Now I exist up here. I don’t live, I just exist. Even my poetry just exists, although it has found a new audience with thousands of young women who do nothing but throw themselves at me. But I could never look at another woman again, not after my Eury. If I had to live like this, the world would know it through my poetry and attempt to follow my lead with living a life woman-less.
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