I'm moving!

Well, I'm moving digitally.

Beats Two and Four will be inactive after this post (big difference, I know).
My new blog is The Timshel Project. I'm pretty excited about it because it is where this blog was headed, but without all the baggage. Some of these post will reappear in the new blog because I really like them. If there were any you liked and would like to discuss with a larger audience, feel free to let me know and I'll repost them.
Thank you all so much for following me on this broken path of blog. Go to The Timshel Project. I hope that you will support it and invite your friends to follow it too.

Vaya con Dios
'Pole

I Was a High School Band Nerd

If you go to most news sites this week, or look at the blogs on LinkedIn, you will find many articles on "How to get organized for the new year," or "How to keep your resolutions"or "The 7 secrets of success for this new year (or 4 or 7 or 13 depending on how creative the writer was)," along with other diet and exercise plans.

At the beginning of the year we make our resolutions based on what has or hasn't worked for us and others in the past. We look to successful businessmen and women for how to arrange our lives so that we too may one day own a company like Virgin Airlines. As holiday photos go up on Facebook, we notice how our faces look rounder than they did last year, and commit to more exercise and eating right. We look to the past to inform our future. I don't think there is anything wrong with that. It doesn't make you unoriginal or foolish. We get in trouble when we think that we are doing something completely new that has never been done before. Either it has and we look arrogant, or it has been tried before, failed miserably, you will look ridiculous for attempting it a second time the same way.

So this week, looking at the year to come, I think back to the past.

Like the overwhelming majority of people, I want to be happy. So I look back to the happy, fulfilled time to inform my direction.

In high school, I did nothing but band. I'm not a great musician. I watch performers on stage and wish I were them, but I remember all the joy of playing music. I kept doing band in college with the Redcoats. What was it about band that kept me involved? It wasn't a career, it was a time-consuming hobby that I didn't excel at or take advantage of to advance myself.

I liked the way music inspired me.
I liked the identity of tradition that a uniform established.

I liked that a bunch of different people came together and made something beautiful.

I liked that I was a part of something that other people enjoyed.

This year:
I want to find inspiration
I want my identity to be as strong as tradition
I want a bunch of different people to come together and make something beautiful
And, I want to be part of it.

Lucky number '13

Every January 1st, most people take stock of their lives from the past year. We look back upon what we accomplished and failed, our estimations of where we would be one year from this moment. And so, the  year begins with bleary eyes, red from a late party the night before. Eyes that are either full of hope for the coming year, or full of fear from the magnitude of it all.

I have a unique situation. My birthday falls a week-and-a-half after the new year, and so I have a week-and-a-half that separates two new years. In the past, these eleven days have served a variety of purposes. Sometimes, this time is a grace period. No resolutions were formed on New Year's Day and now I have some time to think about it. In other years, this time can serve as a mulligan. In eleven short days I fall of the resolution wagon and get a do over (which never sticks) on my birthday.

This year, the familiar resolutions are here: lose weight, read more, pray more. But this year, my aim is to get to December 31st 2013 and look back on the previous 365 days and be content with my progress or lack thereof. I can't replace my ambition or desire to improve, but I can control my response to the outcome. To me, a content life is a strong, resilient life. The lows are not measured by the highs, but that my response to the lows is determination and a faith that I will be ok.

2013 can be a great year. I'm sure there will be sorrow along the way, but who knows what we will discover in science, what will be created in the arts, what a child will say next, what example an elder will set. Oh yes, 2013 is a year of endless possibility. You and I will blaze the path for the year. Those endless possibilities will become more finite and detailed as we move from day to day, week to week, and month to month. So, with each passing moment we lose the endlessness, but gain perspective (like backing away from a mosaic).

With a content life, I will be able to risk more of myself, because I am risking less. The chances I take can be bigger because the risk to my self-image is low. Contentment begets a strange combination of confidence and humility. These juxtaposed ideas ensure the lows are leveled out and the highs are reachable.

So for the next week-and-a-half, think of me as I struggle with this idea of contentment and the surety it brings to act, and my thoughts will be for you and your daily strivings.

If I live the life I'm given, I won't be scared to die. -The Avett Brothers.

Preparing a lesson

Sorry its been a while.

A good soundtrack for this post is Chris Bathgate's "Serpentine"

Right now, I'm in the middle of putting together my lesson for tomorrow night. And honestly, I want to wallow in the material all day tomorrow. Bible lessons, at least for me, don't come out like cookie cutters. There is no formula. Formulas lead to repetition and boredom, and the last thing we need is more boring Bible classes.

My experience has been that there is a lot of melancholy that accompanies lesson prep. It's not the dread of teaching, but the dread of impact. When one examines the material, it firsts works its way inward. Like John's little book it is sweet to behold, but then it hits the stomach and turns to wormwood. Before I can teach, the teaching must work its way through my sinews, get into my blood, work its way into the marrow of my bones. Yes, it is as painful as it sounds. The Word cuts in, violently replacing the diseased tissue with healthy. Because the process of redemption, which first began with Christ, is now working in me.

Becoming a remade creature is taxing, because you must confront the built up scars that you use to cover old wounds. Suddenly, that protection is gone as the lesson allows old wounds to flow again, convicting the soul.

It is only afterwards, one can confront with melancholy the state of what is. Just as Christ sighed within Himself before healing the blind man. God requires we to must sigh. To recognize that this isn't the way it was meant to be, and the only reason it is... well, is because this is what we chose.

The sadness, the conviction, the guilt. These are tough hurdles that must be surmounted. If we stay there, we lose the vision of the story. We remain bitter and add to the hurt in the world. We become vain and righteous.

Christ gives sight to the blind and it is with great difficulty I emerge from the mire. For Christ has already won. To teach the lesson now is difficult because there is a time limit and how can you take these people on this journey and send them away changed and energized in 1 hour?

There is the challenge of teaching and preparing your lesson

Currently, I'm teaching a class on "The Good and Beautiful Life" at Campus View. One, of the things Smith hammers home is the idea of narratives. Now, I've written about this before on this blog. And, so now I'm looking back on the different narratives for my life.

One of the most painful times in my life was during elementary, middle, and early high school. I didn't live in the right place, my family didn't go to the right church, I wasn't interested in the right things. In essence, I was an outsider. So, I acted like an outsider. I began seeking those things that the mainstream disliked. I still do this today. It's hard for me to like anything that the majority of my surrounding culture likes. So, I've descended into tribalism. My tribe is the indie-cyclist-Christians. (There's not that many of us, but I did marry one.)

What is amazing is how my narrative of being an outsider influenced my thoughts on my faith with profound impacts. I read this article this morning on Scott McKnight's blog, which reminded me of my past. You see, when I was younger, Rubel Shelley was kind of a traitor. Terrible things were said about him and some didn't call him a Christian anymore. This is a sad thing. I grew up in a right of middle church of Christ. I was taught that we were the only faithful Christians. I don't think anyone came outright and said the Baptists and Methodists and Presbyterians were going to hell, but the outlook did bode well for them. Here's the thing, I felt really comfortable with this. Why? It fit in great with my narrative of being an outsider. It felt like the whole world was against me and it felt like all of Christendom was against my church.

Here's where it gets mucky. My personal narrative fortified a false narrative. My feelings of church exclusiveness began to decline through the last part of high school and throughout college. I don't think we can solely credit my increase in Biblical knowledge, although it helped. I changed. My narrative altered. I was becoming accepted by my peers. The outsiders found each other and became friends. We were all different, and it seemed no one shared the same interest. But, we all shared a narrative, outsider. In college, where there are more people, I became popular for the first time since kindergarten because there were more outsiders.

I think there are many lessons we can draw from this.

1. Don't turn people into outsiders (it can affect there faith)

2. Our personal narratives can override Jesus' Narratives (they're that strong)

3. Narratives can change, not because we change them, but because we live and grow through them.

4. Our environments of learning are crucial.

Are there any personal narratives that have shaped your faith?

DIOS le bendiga

Today's Lepers

(Backstory)

So, those of you who are long time followers of this blog (and let's face it if you still read this that most likely means you), probably read my post on homosexuality two-years ago and it's ensuing barn-fire. I would like to say I'm a different person that I was then. Of course I am! It's been two years. Two years filled with eight season, trials, victories, and defeat. I didn't delete that post, even though it is a bit embarrassing, because it was truthful. It was written in the wake of a the first wound I'd received from a friend in ministry. It dealt with a subject that I hadn't fully explored and therefore didn't understand completely. I still stand by the original point of the post that belief in God will not take a back seat to preserve a friendship, however, I can couch my beliefs about God to preserve community. And, for those of you who wonder, our friendship, though damaged, is preserved. And, I think stronger than before because now when we meet we talk about serious matters that shape our views.

(Main Body)

Despite where I, or you, or they stand on the morality of homosexuality, the fact of the matter is the LGBT community is made up of individual people. Each bearing unique personalities and the imago Dei. To which I say, those of us who call ourselves Christian have shown an ample amount of disgust, prejudice, and sheer hatred toward. As much as the Jews showed the Samaritans. And, a segment of this community has been afflicted with a mysterious disease that has no known cure and whose sufferers are ostracized to watch their friends die around them with little support from those outside the community. I want to compare leprosy and HIV-AIDS, and the church's un-Christian response to it. This is article that fired me up. It tells of a lonely old man who watched his partner die and is now waiting to die himself. Say what you will, he loved his partner. He has no children nor grandchildren to comfort him, and it is that loneliness, that lack of community that breaks my heart.

In the ancient world, disease was seen as judgement of sin from God. Leprosy was one of the most feared diseases, it was mysteriously and dangerously contagious. It caused deformity. Lepers where put out of the camp to keep the community from being infected. This quarantine was from the Law of God. It's purpose was not to shame the sufferer. Indeed, it was done to protect the whole, but the intention was not to make a mockery of suffering as it became. Lepers were cut off from worship and community so it makes sense that they would form colonies resentful of the larger community, yet so yearning to be apart of it again. In Luke 5:12-14 (see also Luke 17: 11-19) we see Jesus encountering a leper. His response is startling. He touches him. Jesus, Son of the Most High God, makes himself unclean to restore community to one broken, lonely man. In the case of HIV-AIDS, which disproportionately is found among gay men, the disease is viewed as a judgement of sin from God. Some Christians view it as Jews would leprosy on a Samaritan. A deserving punishment for an unclean life.

Do you see the problem?!

Do you see where we put ourselves in this postion!?

"Jesus stretched out His hand and touched him, saying, "I will; be clean."

Oh church, let us stretch out our hands and touch the lives of those afflicted with HIV-AIDS. When the blind man was brought to Jesus, He was asked, "Who sinned, he or his parents?" Jesus responds, "Neither, this was done that the works of He who sent Me might be displayed in him." (paraphrase John 9) Likewise, we must view HIV-AIDS not as means to further reject people, but as a way to display the works of the One who sent us among the rejected. This is Christ's clarion call to start His ministry. I once heard it said that the reason a cure for HIV-AIDS has not been found is that the world is waiting for the church to join.

The world is full of broken, lonely people. The kind of people Jesus walked among and calls us to do the same. We, as the church, are not here to create a social club, but to declare "freedom to the captives."

We must do something

namaste

DIOS le bendiga

Pandora's Box

So I'm listening to Pandora Radio, and it's just not right. I mean, I've seeded the stations with my favorite artists: The Avett Brothers, Mumford & Sons, Justin Townes Earl, etc. I've liked and disliked songs to direct the bots to choose relevant songs but it's still not right. And then, I found out the reasoning for picking songs. There's a formula to predict what you like. Listen to a description of one of the songs,

"Based on what you have told us so far, we're playing this track because it features mellow rock instrumentation, acoustic sonority, acoustic rhythm piano, extensive vamping, and major key tonality."

What's missing?

Content

Soul

When something as emotional as music is reduced to science, it loses its luster. Experiencing art triggers the same part of the brain as falling in love. And, Pandora is picking songs based on the background not on the content. Granted the background colors the foreground. Even in a play such as "Our Town" where there is intentionally a spartan set, the audience is invited to imagine the houses. But, the background enhances the message of the play: that life is quick.

Back to the music, why do I like the Avett Brothers and Mumford & Sons? Well, lets start with the background, you throw in a banjo, mandolin, or horn section and you have my attention. But what separates those bands from Old Crow Medicine Show and JTE (other bands I like but not at the level of favorite)? Simple, its the content. It's what makes me listen to Brandi Carlisle instead of Taylor Swift. The lyrics have a deeper meaning than just, I love you. The lyrics cry out of the soul of the singer to the point where the voice remains barely within control. Its the same reason why I like the Christian artist that I do (Gungor, Jon Foreman, Jars of Clay). Their songs come from somewhere else. Some plain where I never been but feels like home. Maybe that's just my taste in music, but I don't think one can quantify or measure that parameter. And, not every song by any of the above artists hits me that way. The mix could include K' Naan's "Wave Your Flag," or maybe one of Common's rap poems, and "Lazy Eye" by the Silver Sun Pickups.

Then we wind up with a mix that even Pandora couldn't compute.

DIOS le bendiga

Michael Moore and the Kingdom of God

I just read Michael Moore's speech from Madison, WI concerning the union-busting crisis, and it struck a chord with me. Now, before anyone loses their head about it, just know that this is really about that (Rob Bell reference).

First let me get something off my chest about unions. Do you like working a 40-hour, 5-day week? Thank a union. Do you like having safe working conditions? Thank a union. Do you like having confident teachers in the classroom, able to discipline their students? Thank a union. Do you like having a living-wage? Thank a union. Do you like having the first Monday in September off? Thank the unions. Do you like being called a redneck? Thank a coal-workers union.

Ok now that I'm finished with that.

While Michael Moore isn't that eloquent, I think he hits on a major point without realizing it. The more we dehumanize and strip rights away from people accustomed to rights, the more dangerous they become. When someone has nothing to lose, you don't know what they'll do. Kind of like that adage about a cornered, wounded animal.

Now this isn't a plea for our leaders to placate us with second-rate solutions to keep the status quo.

Rather I ask for everyone to consider what would happen if you treated everyone with love. Not fairly, but lovingly. What if Jesus really meant it when He told us to love are enemies, hating is murder, love our neighbor? What would happen to this nation, this world? Many will tell you, that would be nice, but... There always seems to be a but, an excuse for not doing right. ... but, what if everyone did this?

The question being asked there is, "What if no one did this but me?" What if I'm the only one who sacrifices to make things better? Who will take care of me? Who will protect me? The politicians won't do it. My neighbors won't do it.

My... church... won't do it?

That's where I think we've gone wrong in church. We've become to concerned with whether there's a piano up front or what songs we sing or what color the walls are or how do we attract more teens with programs. We're trying to save the saved. We also have become so concerned about saving souls that we have forgotten to save the body as well.

Some of you may want to push back at that last one, but I ask you to consider the Gnostics found in the New Testament epistles. Though you baptize a thousand, what will happen to their bodies and consequentially there souls without care?

They become beaten down, defeated, out of options, and dangerous. Danger isn't a bad thing. We need more risk takers, more Christians to speak out against the status quo. We need people who say, "This isn't right!," and then work to make it right. Yes, this is a "kingdom" mission. It is an effort to pull the Kingdom of Heaven to Earth. Where God will dwell with His people.

Yeah, Michael Moore said this, because this is really about that.

namaste

DIOS le bendiga

The Poor

I know why the poor seem so greedy. You would be too if you saw a windfall coming your way that could keep you afloat, fill your sails for a month, a week, a day, an hour... Ethics has nothing to do with it. The poor understands, "You do not have because you do not ask," and when the Gentile woman begs for the crumbs of children for the dogs. Yes, you can turn your heart cold and blame drugs, alcohol, abuse, insanity, ignorance, neglect... In the past couple of years, some of us have gone to that line, some of us below that line, but I doubt we stay and live under that line. We were not conquered. We did not let ourselves be defeated because we knew what victory tasted like. The poor are defeated, broken, hopeless, oppressed... Some how, we have created systems to keep them in place by destroying schools, denying funds, leaving it to the government and then crying for tax breaks, moving to the suburbs, turning our eyes... We no longer invest in life, we hide from death.

I know why the poor seem so greedy...

They learn from the rich.

vaya con DIOS

Three-in-one

Yesterday, I joined the teeming millions of Americans who were returning Christmas gifts that did not fit, or weren't the right color, or were just the wrong thing. Similarly, I'm now catching up on this blog. The Christmas season was going to be fun. I had a series planned dealing with the Christmas season. But instead, like those after-Christmas sales, you ramblers get a three-for-one deal.

December 25th, Christmas Day

One thing I am always struck by is the amount of charity at Christmas-time. At what other point in the year is it not weird for a person to stand outside Wal-Mart, bell ringing to implore you to give to a worthy cause? At what other point in the year do Marines stop and collect toys to give to needy children? When else, do we look back at the past, let family pull our heart-strings, sing corny songs, throw parties, buy gifts?!

None other time comes close.

"For unto us this day, in the city of David, a child is born..." "And He will be called Emmanuel, 'God with us.'"

Yeah, I know the church picked this time of year to coincide with Mirtha and Saturnalia. But, whom do we celebrate? This isn't a "reason for the season" post. In fact, that's an honest question. Did you know? Black Friday is called such, because it is the day when most retail goes "in the black" for the fiscal year. Maybe we celebrate us. Our buying power. Our consumer culture. Where social standing is defined by possession. Parents put themselves in debt to satisfy their children. A pseudo-religion. The indebtedness is a near perfect analogy for the self-flagellation and sacrifice required by ancient religions. The consumer gods are satisfied by our self-inflicted wounds.

It makes me think, is the reason we are so charitable, because we feel so guilty. We empty some of our pocket change into red kettles. We buy a cheap toy so that every child can open something on Christmas morning. At Christmas, does our consumerism become so apparent, does the disparity between the haves and the have-nots become so clear, that we cannot help but be guilted into charity?

Is there hope from this cycle? Yes, because the promised gift of Christmas is freedom from the rat-race. Jesus begs us to stop shepherding, stop looking at stars, and visit a small child who will change the world.

December 26th, Feast of Stephen

You may want to listen to this during this post. Growing up, my brother and I always made fun of the day after Christmas. The calendar called it 'Boxing Day,' and it was for Canadians. I mean what are they doing hitting each other? Bwaahahahahah!

Well actually, it's the day that the poor would put out boxes and and collect alms. It is the feast day of Stephen. Stephen was one of the first deacons, charged with feeding the poor of Jerusalem. It is the day we honor his memory as martyr by continuing his work. Stephen engaged in his work so thoroughly he caught the attention of the Sanhedrin. When asked for a defense, he began with Abraham and preached the gospel to them, indicting them for working against God. He was then stoned.

When you work for peace, you will always be persecuted by someone. But in His last Beatitude, Jesus called those blessed and promised them the kingdom of Heaven. And, as Stephen's life was extinguished, Jesus stood from His throne and welcomed him.

December 28th, Feast of the Holy Innocents

The Twelve Days of Christmas is more than a silly song with a bunch of useless gifts. It's a collection of feast days of the church leading up to Epiphany on January 5th (or 6th depending on your tradition). On this day, we remember that Jesus' birth was marked by Herod killing a generation of boys. Boys whose crime was being born at the wrong time. Today, we still feel the effects of this massacre. Not necessarily Herod's, but there is a massacre of children today. Where their innocence is stolen by for them into the sex trade, or fighting wars, or gang violence.

But we can help. We can fight back. We can comfort Rachel's weeping.

"There is hope for your future, declares the LORD,

and your children shall come back to their own country."

Jeremiah 31:17

namaste

DIOS le bendiga

Morton Square

Today I found out that I have a cracked and bruised tibula, bruised femur, radially torn meniscus, partially torn MCL, and a fully torn ACL. This reminds me of an old saying...

"When it rains, it pours."

It's this idea, that if one bad thing happens, a bunch of bad things happen. You know like, you never feel one raindrop. So here it is my rainstorm...

I have pretty crappy insurance, because I'm young and healthy. It pays for when I have a cough or something, not major things. It's a $3000 deductible. An MRI to tell you what's wrong with your knee cost $580 (it's not covered by my insurance). I'm going to have a brace made for my leg, and surgery to repair my ACL. I don't know how much that will cost yet.

"When it rains, it pours."

I have to wait for the bone to heal before I can have surgery. Because of the type of fracture, I'm non-weight bearing for six weeks. Otherwise, I'll crush the bone and develop arthritis. The earliest I can have the surgery is the first of February, which should get me off crutches to walk down the aisle with my bride. But, will kill any hope of the day hikes we wanted to do on our honeymoon.

"When it rains, it pours."

My Jeep has a broken oil pressure sensor, bent radiator, faulty windows, the passenger door lock is only manual, and has three blown speakers. And, its the only transportation I have, since I won't be able to ride a bike 'til June or so.

"When it rains, it pours."

This year for Christmas, I will/have received a pair of bike shoes and pedals for my mountain bike. I ordered a helmet two and a half months ago that arrived last week. I was given a nice CamelBak to ride with by a friend. And, I was finally feeling like I wasn't dying when finishing the trail that I hoped to race on it May. All of that stuff is useless now.

"When it rains, it pours."

This year, at the GCSC Halloween party, Abbie dressed as the Morton Salt girl. You know, the cute girl in a yellow slicker with an umbrella carrying an upside-down box of salt. The slogan for the Morton Salt company is, "When it rains, it pours." You see, when salt is exposed to moisture, it cakes. It forms lumps and you can't shake it on your food or pour it out of the box into the measuring spoon. Morton Salt solved this by adding an anti-clumping agent to their salt. Now whenever it rains, Morton Salt will still pour. It takes a phrase that smacks of pessimism and gives you hope. The Bible is full of salt metaphors, Elisha salting the water, salt of the earth, and so on. Maybe this is my salt, when it rains, the salt still pours.

I have a loving and supportive fiancee.

When it rains, it pours.

I have a loving and supportive family.

When it rains, it pours.

I have a loving and supportive church.

When it rains, it pours.

My future in-laws are concerned and caring.

When it rains, it pours.

I received a $500 check in the mail that will cover my MRI.

When it rains, it pours.

I received a free liturgical prayer book to boost my prayer life.

When it rains, it pours.

My fiancee has finished her degree, is looking to set up a studio for herself, and will be marrying me April 2nd.

When it rains, it pours.

I serve a risen Savior. Praise GOD from whom all blessings flow, praise Him all creatures here below, praise Him above ye heavenly host, Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

When it rains, He still pours out His blessings and my cup over flows...

with salt.

namaste

DIOS le bendiga

Get Home

Had a weird experience Saturday evening.

Setting: QT in Lawerenceville 11:45

Characters: Young Minister & Anonymous Female (white, late teens-early 20's)

Young Minister gets out of vehicle

Anonymous Female approaches meekly

AF: Excuse me do you have any money? I've run out of gas.

YM: Yeah sure hang on.

AF: I hate to ask for money its so embarassing

YM: Don't worry about it.

YM hands AF a large bill (well large to the YM)

YM: Here you go.

AF: (looking astonished) Do- Do you need some change?

YM: No, get home.

AF: Ok.

AF leaves scene.

I don't know where she went. I didn't see her enter the store. I never saw her pump gas. It's possible there was no stalled gas-starved car, no home she was trying to get to, no good reason for needing money. Perhaps I should have followed up, by offering her a ride to her car or going in a paying for gas to ensure the money was used truthfully. I could have given her one of my cards, letting her know I was one of the good guys.

But maybe, this is the way GOD treats us. He gives some money when we ask Him. He tells us, "Get home." Because He knows its late and the wolves are prowling. He sees the trembling fear in our eyes. He knows the intention for our gift. So we take the money. Maybe, we put it in the tank, but don't drive home, not yet. Maybe we go next door to the McDonald's parking lot and buy whatever chemical pleasure we can afford. Few of us take the money by the gas and go home.

But still, GOD gives generously and says,

"Get home"

namaste

DIOS le bendiga

Walking Alone at Eve

Went on a walk tonight by myself. Athens is suprisingly quiet at 10:30 on Thursday in 5 points. You can hear the jingle of a belled cat, the crack of falling acorns, and the din of motors on the main roads. I take these walks because I'm blessed with a predisposition to melancholy and reflection. I choose to blame genetics all the way back to County Antrium in Ireland.

Walking at night is funny. Walk away from a streetlight and your shadow stretches and grows into a giant before softly fading away. Only to repeat itself again under the next light. I once heard someone complain about when he asked someone what was wrong, the reply was "Life." Life. His discontent was centered on how ambiguous and off-putting the answer was. Yet, if I had replied the same thing the next question would have concerned school. Why? Because my life was school and if something was wrong in my life causing a state, the obvious next direction is life. The shadows of our lives stretch and grow and soon eclipse the beauty that is the world. All the sudden life is the problem. The oppressive feeling where we maintain functionality just above completely shutting down. Where every step feels like its through wet concrete, slushy snow, or chocolate pudding.

Life. So often I give the short answer because the long one requires too much digging into places I have covered over. The scraping of unhealed scabs.

"How are you?"

"Fine, yourself?"

"Fine."

I'm walking out the door and "Fine" can faintly catch up to my ear. I shouldn't ask how people are doing if I don't want the truth, or if I can't slow down to care. Perhaps I should be honest more. Frankly, I'm often not fine. My life isn't in crisis, but there are always challenges. Heck, I'm getting married in a few months. I have a job no one (including myself) understands. I experience things no one else.

"Not fine."

My life reels back and forth and I don't want to take the time to explain it all. People probably wouldn't understand it anyway. Maybe it's hubris or bravado. Maybe I don't understand myself like I should. Whatever it is, I'm going to only ask "How are you?" when I have the time to listen.

namaste

DIOS le bendiga

Cold Air, Hot Shower

It's finally here.

In the name of efficiency and environmentalism (yeah right, I'm a cheapskate), we don't have any climate control in our apartment. We just open the windows. This morning the apartment was chilly. As I went to take my shower, I turned the water up to hot and prepared myself for what would happen next. That painful feeling of hot water meeting cold skin. All my nerve endings shrieked as they violently adjusted to this new sensation. Though painful my brain does not shirk away from the steaming stream, but forces me into this little spinning dance to quickly warm my body with the water so that it adjust to the new-found warmth.

As I've written before in my "Spiritual Dump" post, I feel the bathroom is the best place to think. (As does Daron) It's been a tough row to how the last month or so. Most of it self-inflicted. (By the way, I'm sorry I haven't posted since July. There have been so many post that I've let slip through my fingers like the proverbial sand.) I don't want to call it depression, though it did have the symptoms, because I feel those with depression deserve to call it their own and don't need whiny brats like me to claim their condition when it's really just me not doing what I'm here to do. Back to the shower. This morning my mind began to warm up with my body.

I've missed blogging, more specifically writing. Writing is a very intelligent thing, especially this free-flowing kind that is recently coming back into favor with the advent of blogs, yet being destroyed by the frenetic twitter. It's also cliche because I want to sit in Jittery Joe's typing, just so people know I'm writing (very conceited and snobbish, I know).

So here it is on the eve of the eve of All Hallow's Eve, I want to recommit to this offbeat blog. (Get it because, its beats 2 and 4 ... haha... groan) But, I don't want to recommit without support. So get out the vote. Comment away. Let me know what you think. Invite other people to read. Yeah, there might be stuff you don't agree with. There's stuff on this blog I'm not proud of. I will not delete it because I want you to see my mistakes and flawed logic. The controversy creates conversation. There's no guarantee it will be daily, or should it? Help me make this a blog people want to read. Do you want pissed-off ramblings? Journal entries? Daily devotional thoughts? All the above? Let me know.

namaste

DIOS le bendiga

Is that Bill Shakespeare!?

Ok, so this is me thinking through some of Donald Miller's book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. In the first line of chapter 12 Don writes, "If the point of life is the is the same as the point of story, the point of life is character transformation."

Now you can break down stories into two big categories: tragedies and comedies. Earlier in the book, Don says the easiest way to tell the difference in Shakespeare is; tragedies end in a funeral whereas comedies end with a wedding. I also think there is another way to define the difference, character development.

My two favorite Shakespearian plays are "Hamlet" and "The Taming of the Shrew," a tragedy and a comedy. I think in tragedies such as "Hamlet" and "East of Eden," the character development is almost bell shaped. As Hamlet and Cal progress through their stories, they change until an event brings them plummeting back to where they began. In essence an unchanged being. Katherina, however, is much more amiable at the end of play and marries Petruchio (or if you've seen 10 Things I Hate About You, July Stiles dates Heath Ledger). The character changes, and change promotes a positive moving story.

Also from film, in "Stranger Than Fiction," Will Ferrell's character is instructed to look for clues to if his story is a tragedy or a comedy. Dismally, he realizes the tragedy of his story.

Whether you accept it or not, we are all living a story. Yours may be a history (dry, dull, boring), a tragedy (exciting, but woeful), or a comedy (strife, change, reward). Whatever it is, you can change it. Comedies are hard because of the change part. But at the end of all comedies is a wedding or a date with Heath Ledger (RIP) or Maggie Gyllenhall.

"One of the things that gives me hope is that, even with all the tragedy that happens in the world, the Bible says when we all get to Heaven, there will be a wedding and there will be drinking and there will be dancing.

namaste

vaya con DIOS

What do you think?

Think on this: "How you treat the creation, reflects how you view the creator."

3:14

Exodus 3:14 "GOD said to Moses, 'I AM WHO I AM.' Or rather, "I WILL BE WHAT I WILL BE." This rather simplistic description of GOD Himself has confused me for most of my life. After all I am who I am, right? I don't think so.

As you look at the world, look at all the things vying to influence and change our opinions. I think at first most people will accuse politics and the press for being bigoted and unbalanced. While this may or may not be a fair assessment, these scapegoats are whipped too often and blamed for much of our intolerance. Rather, I think back to my days in elementary and middle school (painful as it were). I attended an elementary school where trend and fashion were closely observed. For a while it was pogs, another was surplus military berets, as well as Airwalks. I was never able to quite follow on these fashions quick enough. The only surplus store was in Brainerd and I couldn't justify a new pair of sneakers when my old ones still fit and had a full sole. But hey that's the point right. You're not cool unless you buy this product. I really don't have a problem with people purchasing products for their life and ensuring they look good. But, here's what happens, we create teams, us verses them. The OG's beating back the poseurs. Alienation for thinking differently or not adhering to collective thought. Heck, even thinking the same can be thrown in your face as a bad thing. Progressives being pissed that conservatives don't walk fast enough, conservatives irritated that the progressives move so fast. It all the same.

Here's the kicker, we revel in this steaming pile of crap. We celebrate it. We love it when two people bicker back and forth over something. Pretty much every network runs of this thought, from MSNBC to Fox News, MTV to ABC, any reality show, any comedian, any sport. It's all about bullying the other guy to see your point. You may say, "That's the way its always been, and always will be." If so, I challenge your faith in GOD and redemption. Case in point. If anyone calls me a "ginger" or tells me I "have no soul," I cannot be held responsible for what happens next. South Park has staked its success on telling people they are not ok. Christians, Muslims, interestingly not so much Jews (too many of them are lawyers), homosexuals, metrosexuals, and of course... redheads. Seriously!? I realize some people choose to believe certain things and others are trapped by tradition. I know there's a debate about whether or not homosexuality is a choice or genetic. But, people don't choose to be redhead, or blonde, or brunette, or white, or black, or Asian, Indian, Hispanic.

They are born this way.

They are who they are.

God telling us He is Who He is shows us how we should be comfortable and productive in the restraints of our bodies He created. I like to think I've been a free spirit most of my life, but I see the scars that it brings. I've been bullied and ridiculed, my self-esteem pulled from under me like a rug for others entertainment.

I once commented to a friend, "I wish I were normal." She asked why anyone would want that. I looked at her. She was pretty, popular, and quirky in that way that attracted both guys and girls to her, and I realized how she didn't understand the statement. I was uncomfortable with the me that was. The me that couldn't be taken off like a dated garment.

As we are asked to be like God by God, He says to us, live out of your heart not your closet.

And, "Be you who you are as 'I am who I am.'"

namaste

Vaya con DIOS

Keep Your Front Wheel

There are many maxims in mountain biking:

"Brakes make you faster"

"The faster you are downhill, the faster you'll be uphill"

"Momentum is your friend"

But the two that have taught me the most are: "Don't watch a tree," and "Keep your front wheel."

Both are about direction. Your bike follows your vision. Wherever you look thats where you will steer. If you don't want to run into tree, DON'T LOOK AT THE DANG TREE! A lot of it has to do with fear. Sometimes we look at the things we're afraid of most and wind up steering ourselves right towards destruction. When we take our eyes of the trail how can we expect to stay on it and ride clean and safe.

Keeping your front wheel is important. Your front wheel is what your front brake acts on. It is 70% of your stopping power. Oh, and your front wheel does the steering. Ok, I know I just said your eyes steer the bike, but your eyes tell the front wheel where to go. Now if you try to apply more than 70% brake to the front wheel you risk locking up the front wheel. Remember back in high school physics when we talked about friction, and how ABS is better than standard brakes because rolling tires are better than sliding tires. Alright, now when you lock up the front wheel on a bike, you lose the ability to control how fast you're slowing down, and where you're going.

Tonight, for kicks, I tried to lock up my front wheel. I don't have a rear brake currently because my rear tire is goofed. When your, front wheel locks up, imagine the direction you want to go in, and you will go in any other direction. The front wheel washes, and you go high-side, low-side (if you're lucky), or over the bars. But there is another choice: let go. Let go of the brake. Ignore the instinct to hold onto the lever for dear life. Loosen your grip and let blood flow back into your knuckles. The wheel will roll again and you will have control. You may be going faster than you want, but keep you eyes on the trail. The faster you go downhill, the faster you will go uphill.

namaste

vaya con DIOS

Life is Plagiarism

A few weeks ago (when I meant to post this) I attended a Saturday morning Bible study. Well, Bible study isn't the best term. The idea of the group is to allow the college guys to interact with men from Campus View and learn what it looks like to be men of faith. The advantages of this model are superb. Rather than a book espousing loose ideologies of what it means to be man, there is direct, rubber meets the road interaction of what happens when you are a working father, husband, spiritual leader, friend, brother.

Eric Johnson spoke with us, and didn't do the most of speaking. First, he wanted to know where we were in life, where we came from, where we were going. The second thing I noticed about Eric was his notes. Instead of the standard (for me) lists with subjects and bullet points, Eric had a map, a diagram. I still don't understand how he works from that because I think in orders, alphabetically, numerically. There was the standard guy talk stuff, find a woman you love and loves you, find a job you love and makes you feel like you've done something whether you make money or not, find God and hold to Him dearly. It's not that this time was boring or bad, but it pales in comparison to what happened next. In order to understand what this group was about, Eric asked the origins of the group's name, "Band of Brothers." He then recited from memory the quote from Henry V. Then, he told us each man should have a personal bible. A list of quotes that inspire you, or describe you station in life. That which makes you feel human, divine, sorrowful, joyful, passionate, triumphant.

I thought about this, and realized that all life is plagiarism. My life is based of the lives of those that have gone before me. The writer of Ecclesiastes lamented, and maybe rejoiced, there is nothing new under the sun. Everything I think has been thought, everything I do has been done. There is no originality. The Ph.D's of world add the volume of thought and inventors produce new products, but they stand on the shoulders of giants.

I like how the author of the latest book I'm reading treats this idea. Stephen Chalke writes in his introduction that he has given credit where credit is due for any idea not his own. He then wrote that any story or idea not credited, did not mean it was his, but he is only presenting it.

In my life, I hope people know that my ideas are not my own. I may claim them but any idea I have has been shaped, watered, and grown by those things I read, hear, experience. Even this blog.

namaste

vaya con DIOS

Tuesday...

Tuesday night was one of those nights that restores your sanity. When you read a lot of books, listen to a bunch of sermons, and interact with college students, you get the feeling that all the world is just a bunch of big ideas. You fret over whether you are a part of those big ideas or if you have found the right big idea. When that happens, I begin to get frantic. The pace of my life speeds up, and all the sudden I have less time than I can manage. The world begins to blur because you can't focus fast enough from thing to thing.

Tuesday night reminded me there's more to life than being successful. Life is: a run and dinner with your girlfriend, a haircut from a friend, a time to relax watching a baseball game, reading a book until you are too tired to keep your mind on the page.

Abbie had a wonderful talk. We neither complained nor griped about our lives, stayed mostly away from talking ministry, and focused on how each other was doing. Jim came home and inhaled a tuna melt, and I asked him for a hair cut. What followed was a mundane scene that struck me as hilarious. (Wes Anderson take note) We had a chair in the kitchen where my hair was cut. If you had walked in kitchen after that you would have seen me with no shirt, covered in my own hair clippings, trimming my goatee, Jim squatted like a frog cutting his hair, and an empty wooden chair. I don't know why, but that scene resonates in my soul as something that makes sense.

Maybe, life is not built on the big moments and ideas, but the little ones. We don't have relationships with people unless we spend time with them. We can't deal with life if don't have downtime. We can't impress others if we don't take care of ourselves. And, we will never dream if we don't sleep.

namaste

vaya con DIOS