dark

The most pessimistic, negative, and darkest thing I have heard in my entire life is the quote, "You started dying the moment you were born." Or something along those lines...

Man...that is dark.

random

Everyday is a struggle to love.

I am done with my apps. Or at least a good chunk of them, and I am so relieved.

I think everyone needs to take time to look outside of themselves -- not just some time, a LOT of time.

The best way to avoid ourselves is to focus on others (this is not a good thing) -- whether it be negatively (trash talk, anger, hate) or positive (effusive praise, prayer requests, idolatry).

Accepting ourselves is essentially the same thing as asking ourselves to realize that we suck.

It's easy to ask everyone to make hard decisions when you put yourself in a position where your decision is easy.

No, it's not the truth. It's what you would like for to be the truth - your truth, your version, your angle, your way.

Don't judge too quickly. Don't really judge at all. But don't be a foolish smiley nice guy and call everyone happy people. Discern wisely at all times.

Yes, discerning people is different from judging. How? I think I know, but I am not clear enough to put it in words. Educate me if you are so clear.

I think we all play too much hide-and-seek. What do I mean? I mean that we hide ourselves and look at others too much.

The opposite doesn't exactly work either, but I do think it's better: Seek ourselves and hide others.

I think it's difficult to love people when you can't accept yourself.

Honesty is tougher, because honesty is less and less valued. The value of honesty has to be realized first before honesty takes its bold course.

without love

I need to be more gentle. Slower, warmer, and less edgy around the corners. Sometimes, I look at myself and find myself highly abrasive. I think it's indicative of my insecurities of seeming weak and unable. My heart motive for respect.

Q: How was Jesus so edgy, passionate, and confidently decisive, yet so gentle, approachable and warm?
A: He loved with a love that I cannot even begin to understand

I need to love more, and not try to change conditions and habits of mine. I am who I am, only love can affect me. What is it that 1 Cor. 13 says that I love so much? Without love, everything is just a resounding gong or a clashing of the cymbals? A resounding gong is dull, repetitive, ineffective, without meaning, and I think slightly irritating to always hear. On the other hand, a clashing of the cymbals is highly abrasive, irritating, overbearing, loud, and edgy.

And clearly, the passage was not asking to find a medium between the two, but already presenting that medium by prefacing that statement with.."without love".

I need to love. Not love more, 'cause just loving is hard enough.

Practicing Hate

If I had to do a series of posts on what an evil man I am, this blog would have many more posts. But it is strangely wholly reviving and cathartic for me--so here is post #1.

To box out my office mate (whom I have much trouble loving), I stick in my super hi-fi noise cancelling headphones and scroll to Artist: Tim Keller (aren't I so awesome and righteous?) and listen to a sermon. And then I keep my eyes still, straight ahead, and when he tries to get my attention I pretend I cannot hear or see him. It is an effective box out... until he taps my shoulder.

This has to be hypocrisy at its best. I lock myself in with "Jesus". I sit and want to be loved, feel loved, but the last thing I want to do is love. This isn't even avoiding love; this is how I practice hate, and sadly this is only one of many ways I do it. And sometimes, listening to Tim Keller or whatever Christian smorgashborg it might be, it makes the hating feel okay. What a completely brainwashing crazy thing a pair of noise-cancelling earphones can do.

I have to learn not only to step outside my own comfort zones, but be able to step inside others' comfort zones. Christ stepped out of his form as God, and entered so willingly the realm of sin, and then took the hit to become and die as the sinner.

tough to love

Some people are tough to love.

Jesus, how did you do it?

beyond description

You are beautiful beyond description,
Too marvelous for words,
Too wonderful for comprehension,
Like nothing ever seen or heard

Who can grasp your infinite wisdom?
Who can fathom the depths of your heart?

You are beautiful beyond description...

Luke 9:24

International Justice Missions (IJM) - Gary Haugen

“Love is something more stern and splendid than mere kindness…Kindness merely as such cares not whether its object becomes good or bad, provided only that it escapes suffering.” -C.S. Lewis

An excerpt from the article linked above (I underlined what I really liked):

     Sometimes the will of God is scary because he’s asking us to choose between a life that looks successful and a life that is actually significant. A life that wins the applause of our peers or a life that actually transforms lives through love. In Washington, DC, I think, one of the most exalted positions of life is actually becoming a Senator. Really though, history shows that you can actually be a senator of just about no significance. Sometimes it’s just confusing. Are we seeking success or significance? Jesus tried to be clear about all of this with his disciples. He said in Luke 9:24 “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.”

     Another colleague of mine, Sean, calls himself a mad scientist of this divine paradox. See, the hypothesis is that you’ll find your life when you lose it. So Sean decided to throw his life away, and being a proper mad scientist, tried first by doing an experiment and testing it on himself … and then on his wife and two kids. [Laughter.] Let me share with you how he said it: “IJM needed people to go overseas. I was not so afraid of going as I was to coming back. I was at the top of my profession;, I could do anything I wanted.” He was with one of the premier law firms here in town. “If I went overseas for three or four years to work for some little Christian group, I was sure I would come back to a crappy job, work with crappy people, live in a crappy house, and wear crappy slacks as I drink my crappy coffee while driving my crappy car. [Laughter.] But I just thought, ‘if I can rescue one child from the unspeakable horror of forced prostitution, it would outweigh any sacrifice I could possibly make.’ How could any sacrifice I make, how could it possibly compare to the daily abuse and suffering of a child locked in a brothel forced to serve four to seven customers a day? It was like math,” he said. “No emotion. I did not have the faith to believe that God could somehow provide for me and that I might even find joy in it. No, I just expected to be lonely and to suffer. But I signed on to try and save that one child.”

At times, my heart pounds with how God might and can use me. At other times, my heart pounds in fear that the last thing I will abide by is His will. Not really the riches part, more the "I'm more comfortable with status quo."

You can read more about IJM at www.ijm.org

writing

I enjoy writing. Yet, when I try to write an essay to gain admission into a school, it becomes a whole new ordeal. I hate writing to please. I hate writing while my mind is racing with thoughts on grammar, punctuation and word use. I want to just write -- free flow. Flow free. Fly. I want to fly with thoughts on what I am writing and not how I am writing. When I draw, I want to draw with simply the thought of what I am drawing and not how. Without the thoughts of, which paint brush? Long stroke? Short stroke? Circle or oval? Square or rectangle? Darker or lighter? The process is maddening. Just give me paper and pen and let me scream -- express and without delay. 

I want to express myself without worrying about the damning how's.

Maybe that's why I've never been too good at the arts. Or when people ask me, how do you pray? Sometimes I give flowery answers to make it sound more nice, but all I am really saying is -- just pray. Other days, I don't feel too good and spit out, "I just do it."  How? I'm not concerned about the how, I'm really concerned about the who......aren't you?

wine is better aged

 

Only time can age the wine.

One can try to perfect the temperature and humidity of the wine cellar, but again, only time can age the wine. You can shake it, stir it, expose it to more sunlight, store it under the cellar's wooden boards. Whatever the case, time cannot be expedited nor rushed. Maybe there's a chemical now that can speed the process? If there is, I remain dubious to such a chemical.

You can alter the settings and properties and what not, but there is only one constant that promotes change in wine, and that is time. All other factors are probably a good indicator of what kind of wine we may end up bottling.

Still, the issue may not lie in what we end up bottling, but when. Some of us bottle it up early, before time has taken its course, and carry around our grape extracts bottled too soon in dark, opaque, expensive wine bottles with a fresh cork stuck at the top. The deception, however, only lasts up until the moment we twist out the cork and invite others for a taste. They will swirl it in their mouths and swish it around their tongues longer than the norm. Like little children, they will grin and lean to each others sides and murmur, "Is this what I think it is?" until one will raise his voice and suggest that what they are drinking may just be grape juice. Affirmative nods are shared around the room by everybody except for the once-proud owner of this exquisite-looking bottle of wine. His eyes find shame on the floor and he silently curses his soul for the impatience that led him to bottle it a decade early. "It's too sweet, too tart, too fresh," they continue on in whispers loud enough to remind him to keep his eyes glued to the floor.

-----
I feel like this is me. I bottle things too early. I think I'm already there, or already here. But I sit here, and I remind myself that I am far from it. I must let myself age, and not be so instantly satisfied with what and who is around me and in front of me. Let things soak in. Too often I am deceived to believe that if I surround myself with good instruction, upstanding role models, encouraging advice, life lessons, and loving friends and family then instantly this new me is born out. Maybe that's exaggerating, but its that notion to a lesser degree. Regardless, I have learned, time and time again, for it to be wrong. I must let myself age.

Or maybe, this cycle is precisely how the human soul ages.

I don't know. Yet, I do know one thing: I am an absolute fool.

just

'Just'. I don't write of it today as an adjective that stems off the word 'justice' but write of it as an adverb. For example: I 'just' want to write about the word, just.

"In the end, I just want to have a good job." I heard this from a teenager recently and felt it to be the saddest, most self-undercutting statement I have heard in a while. His teenage youth only added weight to his words that carried undeniable overtones of hopelessness. Maybe hopelessness is too extreme to say. Lost dreams that never even materialized may be more accurate.

That quote wrenched my heart. It's different for one to say, "I want to have a good job" as opposed to "I just want to have a good job".

The contrasting juxtaposition is similar to be at a great feast and hear a young boy with a still-high timbre in his voice say, "I want the rice pudding..and..and..." all while the elderly grandfather murmurs for just the easily-digestible rice pudding. For the young boy, as he asks this, his eyes are darting around the dinner table. His eyes and nose cannot settle on any one thing and he has trouble asking for what it is he wants -- until he stammers, "I.. I..I just want it all." The grandfather looks on, already three and a half spoonfuls into his pudding and realizes that 'all' for him is confined merely to the rest of the pudding that is left in his bowl -- just the rice pudding.

When we qualify our statements with 'just', it's almost always limiting. It's synonymous with only, exactly, precisely, barely, perhaps and possibly. Everything about it points to the cracks where hope leaks. Where hope, unaware to us, escapes and goes on to be misplaced until we believe that hope lies in "just" something; whether it be good grades, a job, or even a nice family.

I speak on behalf of genuine hope when I say that it actively lies in everything - waiting for its moment to empower and enable faith. However, at the end, the little boy broke all the limiting effects of 'just'. As he struggled to grasp a way to have everything that was presented before him on the dining table, hope interjected and he clamored that he just wanted it all.

more thoughts on grace

It is tough to let grace be, without having our hands lunging and trying to grasp it, mold it, and bottle it for our own good. Tough to let grace roam around as it tempts our desire for mastery and irks our previous notions of freedom.

And then there are those rare moments we let grace be -- through some glorious, incomprehensible, and wonderful way -- we let grace just be itself. And when this happens, something wholly outside of ourselves happens, and yet still, it is some of the most inwardly impacting moments of our lives.

Then, as we look back, though we just experienced it, it's so tough to credit grace. We look back and languish about the failures and disjunctive moments. And the last sentence we would believe in our hearts is that "Grace abounded where we failed the most."

But there are those who silently look on with eyes that look upwards and mouths that have run dry from being kept open both in awe and unworthy-felt mutters of gratitude.

grace

To know that grace is enough and to profess it in our personal theological beliefs is one thing -- to LET grace be enough is a whole different realm.

To LET my efforts simultaneously be lifted and dissolved by grace is difficult.

However, when reminded that this concept of grace is all that I had left to save me, it brings me back with my face planted deep under the ground. Humility strikes the heart like a pounding hammer, and reminds me of the depths that I have been freed from.

It's the moments when we do let grace be enough -- that's when the gospel really shines. That's when what and who we are mean less, and what and who we worship become meaningful. And lastly, it's easier to let grace be enough, when we more fully understand how much 'grace' (if it can be at all quantified) was needed to bring forth salvation in our lives.

Lord, take it.

here's my heart lord
take and seal it
seal it for thy courts above...

thin

Feeling like I am skating on thin ice, and it annoys me when people push me back on the ice, asking me to take another skate across one more time. I feel as if they push me with no care of how the thin the ice may look. I skate across, and the ice curls into shavings as my skates glide over. At first it was a joy to be the first to shave the once smooth, clean palette of ice. Now, I only fear that soon, there won't be much ice to shave any longer.

Selfish

I look at myself and my tongue retreats to the back of my throat in fear of the taste of the bitter, selfish angst I see. Hiding is not difficult. Coming out of hiding and pretending to have never hidden is.

Everything that I am and was about is slowly becoming second-rate and less important. I am valuing the wrong things, placing trust in unwarranted affections. When I was younger, I strived to write and communicate better because I wanted to fully express all my thoughts, feelings, and emotions in the most clear, comprehensive way possible. Now, I look to bend and twist words better in order to hide what I really want to say; in order to convolute my thoughts to the public. I want to bare naked my thoughts and strip myself to honesty, but when I think of this, I wonder what is left of me. When I chip away all the rust, will I remain? So I let the rust build upon itself--into something corrosive and unsightly--and will one day not even remember there was once a person beneath the orange buildup of metallic dust.

edit:

praise God, His blood will renew me and make me whole. I will not return to search for a part of me that I miss for I am a new creation. I will not return to leftover dessert, but to a banquet. Praise be to Him, His mercies are endless and His grace unreasonable. My God's irrational care for me is my only lifeline, and the only cause that effects me to worship in joy.

Short

Life is incredibly short.

Not to be pessimistic, or small-minded, but the greater I understand the scale of life, and its incredible smallness, the larger every moment of life becomes.

Equality

When we seek equality, it is strange. When a child says to his peer in an innocent game of kickball, "Hey, these teams are not fair!", the child says so because of one of either 2 reasons. One, is that the bitterness of losing leads the child to seek for an outlet of his frustration, or two, the child finds himself bored in face of the overwhelming victory that came without a bead of sweat or effort. Either way, the child then seeks 'equality'... for his own betterment.

Perhaps the example above is unfair, inaccurate, or too assumptive. Whatever it is, the truth is this: that when one seeks equality, one rarely seeks it for the equality of one's fellow brother. When we seek equality, we desire to bring people up, or bring people down--somewhere, at some level, that is comforting to us. Discomfort always makes us feel different--and difference, often times silently whispers inequality to us until we are persuaded as is. We create situations and circumstances that justify the definition of inequality we have formed in our thoughts.

When we seek equality, whether for others or ourselves, we are implying that we understand and know definitively of a higher standard. It is almost pompous, and arrogant, and yet our 'search for equality' makes us feel as if we are pursuing a noble act. It is a great trick, a great illusion.

What brings about equality that is noble and genuine is found in its antithesis--inequality. The recognition of universal inequality, that wholly includes ourselves, is in an incredible equalizer. And in this recognition, there is no implied knowing of a higher standard, but a humble acknowledging that we are no different from each other; no higher, no lower, we all lean the same way. And with this recognition comes a humility that sobers us to things greater than ourselves. It is in this place, where inequality is found and recognized, that ironically, equality itself is found. Rather than the whispers of inequality creating a rebound effect towards searching to create equality, we must hear the more gentle, honest whispers of inequality and let it draw us back to the ground we all stand from.

"This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus" Romans 8:22-24

It is in Church, where too often equality is sought after blindly--like sheep we are led astray by the disguised act of nobleness that bears no fruit.

Softer

Today the heart is softer, but there is no carefree, airy lightness to it. It will not float on through and above clouds and parallel to the flight of birds. It is not carefree, and will not dance with the sunlight upon the surface of the lake. Today, the heart is softer--but not lighter. Like a new pillow, it has been given a new Egyptian cotton threaded cover and plumped up with extra Goose feather fillings. It has just been put through a run in the local laundromat dryer, and one can feel its warmth and softness.

Softer, but not lighter. But not heavy either. It is heavy enough to not feel cheap in the palm of one's hand, and light enough to comfortably store in one's pocket. Today, the heart is softer. Wrinkles of love and care have set in today, and broken in the once stiff, new fabric.

Today, I have been blessed with a grain of wisdom: to know how important it is to allow a heart to be affected, wrinkled, and softened--but not stained. Let love permeate and give value to my heart--and not make it lighter and leave it without purpose or intent. The lightness of it all is only felt through the added strength because of new found value and meaning; our legs take fuller, stronger strides and we lift our chins to breathe in the crisper air.

rest

The sun is getting ready to break the dark and yet my eyes rest open at this hour. I forgot how soothing music was as I sit here and try to make a mix CD for a trip tomorrow.

I haven't written here forever, and my writing is raw, rugged and ugly. I'm struggling to write how I feel but one word sums it up: restlessness.

My heart has been tugged in so many directions lately and my body has listlessly followed. I have not accomplished anything. Each blink of my eye carries with it another worry. I have juggled my desires and wants and left my mind, body, and soul restless for something with substance; something real.

Yes, God is good and His presence is as real as it is soothing. Still, I am broken and completely in need of something that will bring my body a soothing rest. I drop my head, lower my shoulders, look up at the ground in front and I whisper out, "I beg...".

I beg.

rant: "considering You"

cause for the first time, in a long time, in this bitter disgrace of wrecked emotion i am considering You. i am considering You to be the cause of all the wreckage, the loneliness and the despair. but that foolishness quickly subsides and all i am left to do is beg you the question of why you leave me in darkness to rot afoul. to battle this loneliness of which was once solitude moments with you--now it is loneliness that is separated and afar from you. my soul cries for you to be near, yet it bitterly screams at the things you have allowed. it's hard for me to conceive of you being almighty, all powerful and loving today. for if you were all three, my alpha and omega, then how have you let me fall here; have you led me here yourself? i am full of questions and aching desires but right now in this moment when the aching has come so close to being numb i realize that today i am considering you. despite my pain and anguish, i am considering you. my jealous God, what am i but a speck to you? but yet you've grieved yourself the pain to see me fall into this wretched condition...all so that i can finally consider you once again. You are my God, and the reason for my breath... be near. Your love is sweet to my soul.