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We Are Only Asked to Love: A Story.

This is a story that sparked a movement. I want to share this because it is personally very close to my heart, as I too have come from self harm, addiction, and newness of hope and love. Please read this story and let it move you. We can love those who've never known such things. Renee is 19. When I meet her, cocaine is fresh in her system. She hasn't slept in 36 hours and she won't for another 24. It is a familiar blur of coke, pot, pills and alcohol. She has agreed to meet us, to listen and to let us pray. We ask Renee to come with us, to leave this broken night. She says she'll go to rehab tomorrow, but she isn't ready now. It is too great a change. We pray and say goodbye and it is hard to leave without her. She has known such great pain; haunted dreams as a child, the near-constant presence of evil ever since. She has felt the touch of awful naked men, battled depression and addiction, and attempted suicide. Her arms remember razor blades, fifty scars that speak of self-inflicted wounds. Six hours after I meet her, she is feeling trapped, two groups of "friends" offering opposite ideas. Everyone is asleep. The sun is rising. She drinks long from a bottle of liquor, takes a razor blade from the table and locks herself in the bathroom. She cuts herself, using the blade to write "FUCK UP" large across her left forearm. The nurse at the treatment center finds the wound several hours later. The center has no detox, names her too great a risk, and does not accept her. For the next five days, she is ours to love. We become her hospital and the possibility of healing fills our living room with life. It is unspoken and there are only a few of us, but we will be her church, the body of Christ coming alive to meet her needs, to write love on her arms. She is full of contrast, more alive and closer to death than anyone I've known, like a Johnny Cash song or some theatre star. She owns attitude and humor beyond her 19 years, and when she tells me her story, she is humble and quiet and kind, shaped by the pain of a hundred lifetimes. I sit privileged but breaking as she shares. Her life has been so dark yet there is some soft hope in her words, and on consecutive evenings, I watch the prettiest girls in the room tell her that she's beautiful. I think it's God reminding her. I've never walked this road, but I decide that if we're going to run a five-day rehab, it is going to be the coolest in the country. It is going to be rock and roll. We start with the basics; lots of fun, too much Starbucks and way too many cigarettes. Thursday night she is in the balcony for Band Marino, Orlando's finest. They are indie-folk-fabulous, a movement disguised as a circus. She loves them and she smiles when I point out the A&R man from Atlantic Europe, in town from London just to catch this show. She is in good seats when the Magic beat the Sonics the next night, screaming like a lifelong fan with every Dwight Howard dunk. On the way home, we stop for more coffee and books, Blue Like Jazz and (Anne Lamott's) Traveling Mercies. On Saturday, the Taste of Chaos tour is in town and I'm not even sure we can get in, but doors do open and minutes after parking, we are on stage for Thrice, one of her favorite bands. She stands ten feet from the drummer, smiling constantly. It is a bright moment there in the music, as light and rain collide above the stage. It feels like healing. It is certainly hope. Sunday night is church and many gather after the service to pray for Renee, this her last night before entering rehab. Some are strangers but all are friends tonight. The prayers move from broken to bold, all encouraging. We're talking to God but I think as much, we're talking to her, telling her she's loved, saying she does not go alone. One among us knows her best. Ryan sits in the corner strumming an acoustic guitar, singing songs she's inspired. After church our house fills with friends, there for a few more moments before goodbye. Everyone has some gift for her, some note or hug or piece of encouragement. She pulls me aside and tells me she would like to give me something. I smile surprised, wondering what it could be. We walk through the crowded living room, to the garage and her stuff. She hands me her last razor blade, tells me it is the one she used to cut her arm and her last lines of cocaine five nights before. She's had it with her ever since, shares that tonight will be the hardest night and she shouldn't have it. I hold it carefully, thank her and know instantly that this moment, this gift, will stay with me. It hits me to wonder if this great feeling is what Christ knows when we surrender our broken hearts, when we trade death for life. As we arrive at the treatment center, she finishes: "The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope." I have watched life come back to her, and it has been a privilege. When our time with her began, someone suggested shifts but that is the language of business. Love is something better. I have been challenged and changed, reminded that love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we're called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding. I agree so greatly. We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true. We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don't get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won't solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home. I have learned so much in one week with one brave girl. She is alive now, in the patience and safety of rehab, covered in marks of madness but choosing to believe that God makes things new, that He meant hope and healing in the stars. She would ask you to remember. For more info please visit twloha.com.

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The Real Emmanuel.

In this holiday season it's rather typical to hear the common Christmas verses sprung from scripture. One that you may hear often is from Isaiah, the name given to the Messiah being prophesied as, Emmanuel. This term used interestingly means 'God with us'. What's interesting about it is that it is often used by those who typically have a doctrine of, what I like to call, evacuation. The idea is that you 'get saved' in order to save you a seat in heavenly places when you pass from this life into the next. Or rather, the hope that it is so wretched here that you can't wait to 'finally be with him in paradise'. Unfortunately, this is not something we find in the Bible, rather contrary, we find that Jesus is fairly adamant that our life with him has been from the foundations of the earth (Rev. 13). The cross, therefore, simply acts as a physical, monumental reminder, something tangible for us to see, of this union we've shared but have fallen short of enjoying due to our intrinsic belief, in our own minds, that we are alienated and separate from God (Col. 1:21). The point here, is that by perpetuating the distance and delay theology and then juxtapose something like 'Emmanuel, God with us' we tend, then, to confuse. What are we really saying about God and what are we really believing about him? Robert Farrar Capon once put it (my paraphrase) that the Christian life is often seen as an escape. We're trapped in a blizzard and God comes along bringing us hot cocoa and saves us in his heavenly tow truck. However, the reality is more fitting in that while stuck in such a storm, God comes and sits with us and weathers it and endures it with us. In this image we see Emmanuel quite clearly. We cannot continue waiting for God to do something just because we behave ourselves or believe the right things. Everything necessary for us to enjoy our union and enjoy grace has been done at the cross, and even, from his perspective, from the foundations of the world. Does this mean we will escape trouble and hard times, suffering and depression and abuse? Absolutely not! But we were never promised that. We were told there'd be hard times and trials to live through. Maybe that's just life. Maybe life is all the good and all the bad wrapped up together. And it is in those good and bad times that we have Emmanuel, God with us. Maybe it's not that the cross has saved us a seat for the afterlife, but rather set our minds aright about our true selves, about how God has seen us all along so we can enjoy ourselves as he's enjoyed us. The good news isn't to sit and wait and live in lack. The good news is the reality that we are in union with God through Christ and that it's not up to us to get everything right and make ourselves pleasing to him or convince him we're good enough for heaven. We have freedom now to enjoy this life not alone and abandoned, but that the cross was God's 'me too' sung out over all mankind. And with that, with our eyes finally seeing for the first time, we can see that he is Emmanuel, God with us.

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Thankful for Thinkers.

Over the years I've been influenced by many different people. I grew up in the Episcopal Church. Waking up each Sunday morning with the assumption that we were just automatically supposed to go to morning service. We had our own ritual as I'm sure similarly most Christian families like ours had. Once I hit that ripe age when I could ultimately choose for myself, however, I opted out. Nothing stuck to me that mattered personally, so the choice was easy. After years of drug addiction, some hospitalization, a belief in God became personal and meant something to me. Fast forward a bit to moving to Maryland to be youth pastor of a newly planted church in a town I'd never heard of. Five years later, I had a passion to plant my own and moved back home with my wife and new daughter. My beliefs didn't stray from what I'd grown up believing, traditionally at least, since this also was a basis of God for me. I read a lot. We lived close to a Christian publisher and I nearly bought them out; with the likes of Bill Johnson, Rick Joyner, Mike Bickle, Kris Vallotton, and anyone else in that charismatic, prophetic stream. So when I was reading through the Bible one night and certain passages stood out to me, some questions arose. I began seeing things right out of scripture that seemingly contradicted what I had grown up believing about God and myself. It flew in the face of all I'd been reading and had learned, even after graduating from the schooling I put some years and a lot of time and energy into. This began the search of my life. Over the next 2 years, I would struggle with faith and whatever 'truth' was, to the point where I nearly gave up on it all together. Finally coming out on the other end, convinced and satisfied of my new theological grid and lens of seeing God, humanity and the Bible, I couldn't go back and reread those same authors anymore. I picked up a new realm of writers and teachers to glean from. The likes of John Crowder, C. Baxter Kruger, Steve McVey, Francois du Toit, T.F. Torrance, Karl Bart, etc. I poured even more hours into these intellectual grace guys, fully enjoying what I was seeing now as actual Good News. When you have such a journey as I did with questioning all you grew up believing, and coming out on top with most of which was in fact wrong, you allow yourself to be open to questioning nearly everything else. And so I left myself open. I wanted to read every opinion and every thought and view that had to do with God and faith. And so there was a brand new book by Rob Bell (a familiar name to me) that had all this controversy surrounding it in the faith community. I had to read it! This too brought about new questions and new searching. So I did. And so after befriending an atheist, we exchanged authors. I gave him the C.S. Lewis I'd been reading and he gave me Richard Dawkins. Long story short, fast forward again to right now; to today, and I can tell you I'm grateful for every single one of these authors and thinkers that I've read and gleaned from and were influenced by. From my early traditional, evangelical days, through my searching and theology transformation, to my open minded, read whatever I can season, to where I am right now. I feel confident in where I am. I've left myself open to the extent that I know I still don't know everything and so I continue to enjoy learning. But I'm also confident and no longer insecure about what I believe. We can't be afraid to question and double check and search it out on our own. If something doesn't sit right with you, or if it seems contradictory, look at it, question it. Maybe you'll come out believing it the same way but it'll finally make sense, or maybe you'll come out on a totally different end of things and it'll make sense. I am thankful for and respect those who've gone ahead of me and allowed themselves the beauty of thinking for themselves despite what their outcome is. I am thankful for the Bill Johnson's, the John Crowder's, the Rob Bell's and the Richard Dawkin's that I've read, because they've all helped me get to where I am today. They've taught me, on some level, that it's ok to agree or disagree, just please, think and search for yourself. It's a good thing to read whatever you can. I've read books by authors like John Piper or Mark Driscoll who I adamantly disagree with and often have a hard time with. But it's more important to stay open and stay humble than be right. Do not be so quick to swallow what you're force fed by tradition. Don't be quick to build walls around your understanding and thinking. Just because it's tradition does not automatically mean it's right or good. And so I'm grateful for anyone who exercises their ability and freedom to think for themselves. And I encourage all of you to let yourselves do the same.

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One at a Time.

I have always been the type of person that if I believe in something, I went all in with it. My wife refers to me as an extremist and I can't say I'd totally disagree. My sophomore year of high school I fell head first into the animal rights movement and went vegan for nearly 5 years, participating in protests, getting myself in trouble here and there and converting many to either vegetarianism or full on veganism. Almost 4 years ago I starting working full time for the Syracuse Rescue Mission Alliance as a supervisor on third shift in their emergency shelter. Admittedly, poverty, homelessness and hunger were issues that were not close to my heart for the longest time. I had many other interests and priorities and while I knew that I should care and love and support, I simply didn't have the broken heart for the needy. As years went by, there was an opportunity for me to take another position, on days, finally. It was a regional chaplain position. After pastoring in the church for nearly 7 years, it was something relatively up my alley. I'd be traveling to the 3 other regional areas the Rescue Mission operated, in Binghamton, Ithaca and Auburn. The first question I was asked in my interview for the new position was, 'Why do you want this job?' I answered, 'While in the shelter, I've had the ability, from time to time, as the opportunities presented themselves, to share with someone of their deep goodness and worth and wanted even more opportunity to do so.' While far and few between these opportunities did in fact present themselves, it found its way into my heart as an impactful priority and one that I could feel that old extremist, head first, all in zeal, coming over me. I did get the job and for the past 9 months have been doing just that. For the first time in my life I can say I am utterly sold out for the organization I work for. Never have I worked for a leadership team or an organization as a whole that cast such a vision that it didn't present itself as a pie in the sky kind of fluffy hope but rather something tangible that working together for the same goal and purpose could actually be attained. And that which was being attained was none other than restoring the dignity and worth of each individual we work with, housing and feeding and caring and everything everyone deserves. Through my extensive counseling (which happens to be the bulk of what I do) I've branched out in working with other departments at the Mission in hopes of discovering more and more ways in which we can reach this goal. I've learned that there is a solution and it absolutely starts with being aware of the issue and approaching with a joy that it can be resolved, one person at a time. Being a regional chaplain has presented several conflicts for me. The title itself holds much baggage with it as there are many assumptions about what my intent and motives are. However, I carry a deep passion to change people's perspective on what love and grace look like. By not approaching with an intent on converting someone to a specific religious faith or desiring to 'win souls' or 'save' someone, I am left to simply love for the sake of loving. I've had many conversations with many people about their ideas concerning God and the Bible and Church and all that, and it stands that I am very different than who they've had interactions with in the past. What's the difference? The approach. I don't approach anyone as some kind of service project or salvation opportunity. I desire to illuminate for everyone I come in contact with the enormous goodness and value they carry. Some have never heard such things and the ability to be that person that can point that out for them is priceless. As a chaplain, I can pray with you or host a Bible Study, if you so desire. But at the same time, I can just as easily not talk about God. I do, however, want to spend time with you and talk about what you want to talk about simply because you're another human being and I love you. With that, dignity begins. Identity can be restored and there comes a moment, somewhere in the process, when they refuse to define themselves based on present external circumstances or their past or their life performance, but on the reality that they are good and they are of value and worth and loved and meant for joy and peace in their life. This, then, becomes that which they allow themselves to be defined by. In that moment, there is a clarity that comes and they can see the hope in revitalizing their life and regaining a stability they only once dreamed of but can now see as a tangible possibility and attainable goal. For the work that the Rescue Mission does in Syracuse and in all of their locations (Binghamton, Ithaca and Auburn), this is the passion that drives the staff in whichever department they work in. The drive that gives momentum to the tireless efforts of the Rescue Mission is the reality that hunger and homelessness can come to an end. There is a solution. There is value in holding that one in front of you when no one else wants to even notice them. For more information on how you can help the Rescue Mission visit www.rmlifechanging.org.

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Love for Loves Sake.

I've recently read several articles written about marriage and lasting relationships and whatnot. I've gathered a sense from many of then the importance of commitment and sticking it out and sticking together in the midst of hard times and even when you really just don't want to. While I admire the intent in such encouragement, I do find myself disagreeing and something about it simply doesn't settle well with me. I've been married for a short 6 years and admittedly understand the lack of extensive experience I may be bringing to the conversation, however, my wife and I have been through enough that I feel confident I have something to share on the subject. My major disagreement is the fact that love seems to fall to the wayside when it comes to commitment. You may hear or read things that say something along the lines of, 'Even when you don't feel in love anymore, you made a commitment and that's lasting'. Again, there is a serious aspect of this I agree with. However, my disagreement is the fact that this seems to perpetuate that sense that you've fallen out of love and therefore, it is what it is, but you're committed. Committed to whom seems to be insignificant as opposed to committed to what, in my opinion. For example, I didn't get married to my wife because I wanted to make a commitment to her. I didn't get married because I wanted to make sure that whether sickness or in health, I had someone I was committed to and someone who was committed to me. I married because I was in love and could envision whatever my life was at that moment complimenting whatever her life was and forging a life together. Of course, within that context, there's an obvious commitment that happens to be made, but to whom and to what? I think my wife would agree with me, but there have certainly been times when we've felt out of love with one another. We've even communicated this to one another. You wake up, irritated with the person next to you and envision what your life may have been like if you'd been with someone else. But it is in this moment that you're faced with the philosophical view of whether or not you suck it up because of the commitment you've made, or you can realize how utterly unsatisfactory that idea is. Rather, realize that feeling that you may have 'fallen out of love' is not a good feeling and you're not ok with it. It's not enjoyable. Once you've come to that, you can communicate with one another that current reality. Through this communication, there is a common understanding you both come to that you previously may have been completely oblivious to due to a lack of sharing with one another. Once it's out, you can see that which has been running around in your mind has been running around in theirs as well. So now you're on the same page, good or bad, your communicating and seeing it in one another, possibly for the first time. You begin to share about what it is about the other person that's complimented you so well. Being in that place, I'm not ok with mediocrity and complacency. I want full enjoyment and satisfaction. And because I have chosen my wife as the one with whom I desire to share life with and raise our three kids with, it is priority to see that enjoyment again within our relationship. I'm not ok with going through some obligatory motions because the law says we're married. When I can sense something seems lacking or doesn't feel right, I want to examine it and be honest with it and move to see it be the enjoyment I know it to truly be. In retrospect, desiring that love beyond simple commitment exposes that you didn't make a commitment to being committed, your commitment was love based and love first and love grounded, and therefore, when you feel that love has become buried under years of life, it is the knowledge of that love, the enjoyment you know that love to be that becomes the fuel for making sure it's the most important thing in the relationship. It's the heart by which everything else beats by. By utilizing commitment as the engine for your marriage or any relationship, you trade in the ability to enjoy one another, and resort to simply just putting up with one another for commitment sake. Life is meant to be enjoyed not just tolerated. We were made for gladness and happiness and that whom you choose to share that happiness with should connect because of a desire for love not just sucking it up because of a commitment you made one day. When you choose to love, you discover the commitment comes along. It's not the simplest thing, and I admittedly am still learning. However, I've decided to choose to enjoy my wife and the love and life we have rather than tolerating it and putting up with it because of a vow or a ceremony we both went through. Love isn't a ceremony. It's not a vow. It's not even a commitment. Love is the all that holds life together. Your life and the life of the one you choose to love.

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7 Things.

I pastored for several years before I finally believed the Gospel. Here's what changed: 1. I had indwelling sin/sinful nature I was constantly battling against and would be until I died. 2. I had to make my life pleasing to God. 3. God was there and I was here and if I positioned my life just right, believed the right things, we might just meet. 4. I lived with lack and needed to rely on my own efforts and striving to get more of, and closer to, God. 5. There are those who are 'in' and those who are 'out'. 6. Dependent upon my actions and behavior, I fall in and out of favor with God. 7. I must repent or I won't be forgiven. Grace provides you the lens to simply see things differently. Grace allows you the freedom to finally enjoy the God you've been killing yourself to get 'good' or 'right' with. Grace defines you 'very good' when all you've ever identified with was shame and guilt and not adding up. You're not an embarrassment. He was pleased to finish it all and wrap you up into himself forever. You cannot backslide from that which he's initiated. You canny fall out of that which he's placed you in. It's a rest and enjoyment Gospel and it always has been.

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Grace: For Serial Killers and the Rest of Us.

God sees you through the scope of all creation. What he's done and what he's accomplished for all of humanity. Therefore when God sees your seemingly bad behavior he's, in that moment, fully aware of the 'why' you're acting out like that. The omniscientness of God is not simply just knowing everything in the realm of what your life will become and the number of hairs on your head but rather the everything aspect as far as the why you think about something the way you do, the why you respond and react certain ways as you do as far as what in your past you still allow to have a say in your life. And because of this knowing, he sees your behaviors with such an understanding that it eliminates feeling disappointed, upset or even bothered by it from your end. The effect that your behaviors may have affects him, but that is on the side of the issue dealing with the victim of whatever it is you've done. If you hurt someone, there is no judgment on you for your actions because he's all knowing with why you've done what you've done; he understands it so well that he knows it for what it is and not you simply disobeying or you being rebellious or evil. He then attends to, in comfort, the person you've hurt, and all the while convicting you that that was wrong for the sole purpose of illuminating to you how you truly should be living and behaving and acting. The wrath, anger and judgment are omitted from the equation and replaced with a fierce passion to expose to you the reasons he's seeing so you can therefore live out your true self which is the goodness you so far have apparently been unable to allow yourself to see. When we do bad it is often an expression or manifestation of a false identity of who we are. Gods purposes in convicting isn't to focus on the bad action but to illuminate the goodness you truly are and the joys you'll have when you finally live that goodness out. To look at a serial killer whose been raised in an abusive home and upbringing, there has been a false identity placed on the child. They grow up and act out simply what lie they've believed to be true (however it ultimately manifests itself). When God 'deals' with this person, he disregards the actual killing, for the purposes of dealing with what needs to be dealt with (which is a deeper issue than the actual behavior) and because he's dealing at root level, is actually able to accomplish something. When we can't see past the behavior, we never get to the root and only deal with what's currently visible and mixed with our own judgments of how someone or ourselves are living. God then may attend to the victims family in comfort and in whatever capacity they need him in. God then takes the killer through his childhood, understanding why, when this person treated you like your father used to when he was abusing you, you killed him. It isn't the fact that you killed someone that is most prominent to God in that moment, it is the deeper issue of 'why' you killed them, why you're always so angry and hateful. There's a deeper rooted issue in why we do what we do, good or bad, but because God sees and knows us to be wholly good, he is eternally reminding us and illuminating for us, our true selves, and never once losing sight of our true goodness. Grace may seem unjust at times and even permissible, but God isn't threatened or shaken by how grace misunderstood or abused. Because of his all knowing nature, he's forever knowing grace is the only perfect approach to humanity. He's fully aware of how sin has raped, abused, destroyed and molested mankind over the course of our existence. This is also the reason God saw fit to destroy sin and remove it from our humanity on the cross and forever shutting up about the issue all together. Because of this shutting up about sin, he's then able to help us see our true selves beyond how we've previously and historically qualified, judged and identified ourselves, which has been based on how well we're living, performing and behaving. This was the rating scale of the Old Covenant for righteousness' sake and as Hebrews said in chapter 10, it was never Gods will or intent that that'd be the case. So then enters the New Covenant. A wholly, completely new way for us to qualify ourselves. Our qualifications for goodness and righteousness are now based on Christ (ultimately how God has always seen it, but we were previously blind to). We are seen as who he is not who we believe ourselves to be. If we're still qualifying ourselves based on behavior, we'll never enjoy what he's done for us which is give us the peace of mind to accept ourselves as he's accepted us. To see ourselves as he's always seen us which is 'very good'. In the beginning was Christ and in Christ, humanity. When that all changed from our perspective, not God's, he came to physically show us what we've missed and remind us of what's always been. And to this day, he will forever fight to convict us for the purposes of illuminating our true selves and abolishing the condemnation we're so often prone to put on ourselves. Grace doesn't excuse sin, grace understands sin for what it really is, and rather than condemn the behavior, it exposes the goodness that that sin tried to keep you from seeing in yourself.

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Poems: Out on the Veranda.

Out on the veranda Slightly mocking slow A strewn side of ugly faceless ignorance A brilliant slanting some kind of approving brilliance I bow and say it politely Red hat tip tied through into new Green coat button down Straps all greased and tightened up just right Pull it in Breath it in Hold it in Fading in and out Blinding pale Your glasses tint so still Your backbone tells you It calls you and reminds you It carries too much through Buckled down and irrelevant I can hide behind the cut up so nice We buried it once and it came back alive We stayed with it and it spoke It told us a thousand lies The lines we crossed we promised we'd see through Enough to turn them into someones truths Out on the veranda We saw them coming close Ships set sail One hundred and fifty dead eyed stares We agreed on a time A place and shared rhymes Of how and when and most of all why Things would be done and different don't try I coddled up and pulled it back I watched it glitz and glaze It stemmed and spiked and blazed into The skin the muscle the bone shattered twice We knew what we'd done We applauded the midday sun We thanked the oceans for their waves The green grasses for staying sane Out on the veranda we collected our thoughts Shared testimonies and watched the clocks Ticking straight forward Moving us closer to the edge Moving us closer to the edge Out on the veranda we smoked And drank and wished for time well spent A couple miss steps here and there and here and there Making moments last Turning tragedies into hopeful memories Out on the veranda we watched ourselves play murder Out on the veranda we made ourselves sturdier We shared our stories and painted another night Recollected the way things should've gone right It was sweet and silent It was done and all gone The veranda became something else Out on the road we stayed back to announce It'll happen again It's easier the second time until its been A round about trailer On screen and out of focus We bled out and strapped ourselves in Gone for a ride Out on the veranda we called sin.

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Short Story: Short Shorts

Every moment that passed, and he watched every moment on the clock, he waited. He always made sure he was cautious like that. He definitely always watched the clock. If the minutes went by, he reasoned, at the rate they were supposed to, that's one click every second for sixty seconds to make up a whole minute. He figured if he watched all sixty minutes go by, that'd be thirty-six hundred ticks that he'd witness. He sat there Indian style in front of his bed. He still had his shoes on. He wore red running shoes and forgot what brand they were. Those kinds of things didn't really matter to him anyway. His mother bought him a new pair every year at Easter ever since he could remember, let alone fit into running shoes when it mattered, which was when he was actually able to be running around. He liked short shorts for the simple fact that it made him feel retro. That was it. He understood they weren't in style anymore and he even was fully aware that they may have even looked kind of silly, but still, those kinds of things didn't phase him. He wasn't concerned with how people thought of him while he was running. He figured during the time he went running, which was usually somewhere between the time the first rerun of All in the Family ended and right before the second rerun of My Three Sons came on which, since there were two episodes of All in the Family and the two of My Three Sons, he had a good hour of a run and was still able to watch at least one of each. He almost never changed the television channel from TV Land. Again, this had something to do with the retro feel of old television shows. He liked living through a time he never actually lived through. Vicariously or not, in a weird way it was a kind of escape from the now and a chance to actually imagine himself as someone from that time. With the old television shows and short shorts, he didn't know anyone else like himself. That, in its own way, was another calming thought somehow. He saw there in front of his bed, watching the ticks, tick after tick, waiting. For a brief second he thought he almost forgot what he was waiting for. Then he'd remember and the brief stint of raging anxiety would flee and he could focus on the ticks again. There was rumbling going on downstairs. Probably his parents getting ready for dinner. He hadn't heard his sister come home yet. He could always tell when she'd come home because there was this incessant chatter and banter that took up what he'd imagine would otherwise be what you'd call silence. Since there were still moments of silence between the rumbling his parents were creating, this made a good case in his mind that his sister hadn't come home yet. He didn't have time to think of the reasons for her continued absence. Whatever the reason was he was sure it had nothing to do with him. She was a year and a half older than he was and she never went running. In fact, he thought, he didn't think he'd ever seem her love faster than maybe a brisk walk and that was probably, he figured, was because she was being chased or something. This brief thought have him one of those slight smirks across his face just picturing her being chased by someone. He let the thought go and focused on the ticks. He didn't know if it would be the first ten minutes of the new hour or what ten minute period when they'd run the story but he was sure he wasn't going to miss it. He even figured he'd miss dinner, whatever it was, just to not miss it. He glanced down briefly at the VCR underneath his television to make sure the little red light was on indicating there was in fact a VHS inside ready to record. The red light would be on no matter what VHS was in there, but he knew it was especially ready to record because he used one of his old videos and put little pieces of tape across the little indented ends to allow the VCR to recognize it as recordable. For some reason, and despite his curiosity, he never researched the reasons why a VHS needed to have those little plastic pieces in place for recording to happen and when they were missing, you simply weren't able to record. He figured this out on his own and this brought him a brief bit of pleasure thinking about it. He realized the record button, no matter how many times he'd push it, with a tape inside, would not light up to record, if those little plastic pieces were missing. And the ones that were new, if he could find some new ones at a garage sale or yard sale or something, they'd have the pieces in place still, those were the ones that when he hit record, they'd actually record. He tested this out with an episode of I Dream of Jeanie which he loved. Just knowing that he had everything in place when the time was right gave him comfort because he knew he didn't have to worry and could sit back, catching his breath from the run still, letting the sweat that had beaded up on his brow, under the towel-like head band, and streaming down his cheek, dry and no longer be an issue so he could watch those ticks go by... There was a nice breeze that day he almost immediately took notice of. Despite the probably something around eighty-five degree heat crushing from the sun, he thought it rather nice and even refreshing when the breeze would come along. He always thought of a Leave it to Beaver type neighborhood whenever he went running down his street. He thought all the houses looked the same and the homeowners must have had some kind of community meeting to decide which shrubbery and foliage would be most accessible and appropriate even for their quaint little suburban locality. He sometimes wished he knew what the different trees were and always let the thought go as he figured he already knew a lot about a lot of different things and simply didn't have the time to learn that much about something else so seemingly unimportant. It wouldn't matter anyway, he thought, whether he knew what their names were, they'd be what they were either way. He was probably only three blocks down outside of his commonwealth and approaching anything remotely resembling some other kind of less than suburban urban kind of area. There were stop lights and a nice wall of various shops just up ahead. If you looked up from the ground he held his focus on while he ran you could actually notice the exact point the wall of shops came into view and if he didn't know better he would have, at least on that day, turned around and redirected himself. Keeping his eyes on the ground had gotten him into trouble in the past too. His knees were almost entirely healed now, but the spill he hadn't so easily forgotten about. And yet somehow for some reason he hadn't learned any kind of lesson since from it and he felt it too natural to just focus on the concrete pavement his feet scuffled upon. He wasn't a particularly fast runner. He really only ran because he heard once on an episode of Three's Company that Jack ran to keep his body tight and appealing for the ladies. He had never been one to be what some would call a ladies man, but certainly didn't want to absolutely count himself out of any possibility. So he figured the least he could do was run and keep his body somewhat tight. He didn't even really have a gage on whether or not it was tight, he just trusted Jack's encouragement and advice and for lack of better terms, ran with it. Since the fall and wretched knee scraping, he forced himself, when he'd think of it, to look up. He tried to time it, by counting the blocks of cement sidewalk, when he'd be able to catch the first glimpse of the street light and wall of shops. He missed it this time and shrugged it off, better luck tomorrow 'ol Tripper' he'd sometimes refer to himself to himself for some kind of self motivation as he ran. He started seeing cars wisp by and then start coming to a stop as the light went from green to that orangy yellowish kind almost resembling a creamcicle he thought. He started up a small uphill slant and as the wall of shops came into view more and more he flattened out and had to halt himself at the light doing one of those running in place so as to keep your pulse rate the same. He figured if he stopped to take a quick red light break, as he called them, he'd be unable to muster up enough energy let alone motivation to start back up, and so it was better for him to just run in place. He wasn't particularly fond of running per say but wanted a tight Jack Tripper ladies man body, so he ran. There were probably a good six cars in line at the light. Three lanes at each of the four intersections. He noticed another runner across the street doing one of those jog in place almost looking like an odd kind of dance if he didn't know any better. From his corner he thought she must've been the most beautiful woman in the world. She had dark hair, a white tank top, wife beater type of shirt, and those really tight black, almost yoga type pants. He noticed she glanced down to check her watch and then adjust her headphones and this gave him a quick sense of anxiety as he wondered what time it was, and if he was gone too long and would miss My Three Sons. He never wore a watch himself and didn't even have a good reason why other than he simply didn't own one. He remembered owning one once but that was too long ago to even count now. The light on the perpendicular street crossing the intersection turned creamcicle and he heard it first and then saw the dark blue Toyota start to pull forward. The two cross walk signs switched from the red hand screaming STOP at all who approached to the nice little white stick figure telling everyone it was okay to start crossing the street. As the car pulled forward slowly, the light on the perpendicular street turned red and the green arrow on the opposite side flipped on. While he and his distant lady runner friend began to cross, the Toyota hit full speed in what he assumed must have been a momentary laps of assuming his light was next to turn green and he'd jump the gun and go. It hadn't and the row of cars across the way who in fact did have a green go ahead began to make their turn. As he stepped out to cross the first of three rows of cars, so did she and met the Toyota at an instant. As he sat in his room cross-legged waiting for the news to come on he sat silently running over the small little details of the scene he had just witnessed. He had already missed his episode of My Three Sons and wasn't even really concerned about that now anyway. He wished he could erase the image of that beautiful girl colliding with the front end of the Toyota, but no matter how much he closed his eyes and tried to think of I Dream of Jeannie to distract his thoughts, he kept seeing Jeannie with dark hair, white tank, top wife beater and black yoga pants jogging in place. He wiped his cheek of the sweat still slipping down from under his head band and sighed in an anticipation for how the news story would go. He would say it felt like everything went into slow motion but thought that sounded terribly cliche to say in a situation like this. But maybe, he reasoned, that was why it was cliche because it actually seemed quite fitting. When the Toyota connected directly at the side of her knees there was an abrupt jerking stop as he looked up from the pavement to see her lifted into the air something like ten feet almost, he figured, clearing at least a few tumbles in mid air. She dropped to the street similarly to how a rag doll would collapse to the ground if you held it up and just dropped it. She flew up, flipping head over feet several times and ended up lying face down on the pavement. The traffic turning had all come to an abrupt stop as well also causing a slight rear end that seemed all too irrelevant at this point considering. He stopped running and stared at the woman he felt for a brief moment, as they were jogging in place on their own corners, he must've fallen in love with, or at least what he imagined love was, and she laid there motionless. Some people started exiting their cars running over to her to see if she was alive, if not at the very least, okay. The driver of the Toyota seemed more in shock than anything and didn't even slightly move. He watched one woman in particular with one of those irritating blue tooth devices clamped onto the side of her face start calling for what he assumed was an ambulance. As all rows of traffic remained at a stand still there was a guy that took it upon himself to deem himself, in a brief moment of civilian duty, the crossing guard. He began waving on one row and with a hand held upright halting another. It almost surprised him how the traffic took to the man's direction so unquestionably and so immediately. There was almost no delay and it was as if everyone was even waiting for someone to take the initiative and do as this man was now doing. So traffic began moving along and he made his way backwards to his corner. He stood there watching the scene in front of him but focusing on the poor beautiful well fit woman lying there still motionless. He wanted to go back home but felt conflicted to stay until he could see some confirmation that she was in fact still alive. Even if it was the slightest movement of a limb or even raising her head a little he figured that'd be enough and he'd be released to go home then. He sat there cross-legged flapping his legs in anticipation, watching the television and then down to the VCR to double check that it was set to record. The image of her lying there seemed almost burned into his memory and the sight of when she finally did raise her head and the flush of relief that rushed over him, and he felt, at the time, like he could breathe again. He was surprised at how quickly the ambulance had come. It was almost like a parade scene as the ambulance, fire truck and two police vehicles came almost simultaneously. A police officer relieved the self appointed cross walk guardian of his duties and there was a strange sense of sincerity now in the directing of the traffic now that there was someone official in uniform. The paramedics jumped out and attended to the unfortunate woman immediately as he watched three firemen, well two men and one woman, at a more unhurried, take your time, kind of pace. Probably, he figured, since the beautiful unfortunate woman was already being attended to by the paramedics. The firemen carried what looked like clip boards and the paramedics carried a large red duffle bag. As they attended to her and she was now finally responding to their nudges, the woman who had initially called 911 directed the other police officer to the Toyota. The officer had the driver step out of the car and began, from what he could tell from where he was standing and surveying, questioning him about what happened. He stood there motionless himself watching everything before him. He wondered if the numbing, almost full body tingling he was feeling was a form of shock. He'd heard of shock before and wondered since he himself hadn't been in the actual accident if this could truly be considered shock as well. He watched the officer speak further with the woman and then saw her point over to him. He didn't have an immediate reaction probably because of the shock. There was another ambulance and two more police cars that had come along now and there were flares lit and another officer began directing traffic making two. The police officer that had been, what seemed like conducting the investigation part of it, started across the street towards him. He finally swallowed hard and wished he had in fact gone home. An intense sense of anxiety flushed over him and he felt cold. His heart was racing and pounding what he could only imagine was just about to beat right out of his unsuspecting chest. As the officer approached he started asking him about what he in fact did witness. He fumbled his words a bit and felt like he only got out the already obvious 'she got hit by that car'. The officer asked him if the Toyota had the right a-way or was the red light in fact still red? He fumbled some more as he started to feel himself unable to pull in enough oxygen to continue the interrogation. The officer thanked him for his statement and asked for his name and age and a contact phone number if they were to need any further information on the incident. Naively, he gave them everything they asked for and immediately regretted it. He figured now that since he wasn't technically a minor they could use his testimony and he dreaded the thought of being mentioned or linked with this tragedy at all. As a news van pulled up on one of the side streets he used that as a good exit and turned around to make his way home. He would walk this time and he thought his tight body would have to wait for that woman's sake now since he most certainly did not feel like running. He could feel himself calming a bit now. He rubbed his hands up and down his shins several times and closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly to speed up his calming down. He opened his eyes as he heard the intro music to the news begin. "You're watching YNN Syracuse. Your News Now!" He thought the man was yelling at him. The screen cut to a shot of the intersection he had just come from and he glanced down quickly to double check if his VCR was cooperating and actually recording. He held his breath as he waited to see if he was mentioned. The woman wasn't there on the ground anymore as far as he could see and he figured the ambulance must have thankfully taken her to be further checked out. He sat there listening intently. He could've turned the volume up but didn't want his parents to hear what he was listening to and then realized in an instant that they too had a television downstairs and would from time to time have the news on. He feared that if he did in fact hear his name mentioned there would be more questions he most certainly did not want to answer. He finally let himself breathe again as the story seemed brief. He saw the officer that had questioned him about what happened interviewed by the media as well as the woman with the terrible blue tooth clawing at her face and he let himself laugh for a second at the thought of his escape before he too would have inevitably been questioned. The last thing, he thought, that he'd want was to be on the news. He finally heard the update that the woman was in the hospital with only minor scrapes and bruises. He felt relieved and thought what would Greg Brady have done if he'd been running along that day to see what he saw? He leaned forward to turn the VCR off and turn the television back to TV Land. He took a deep breath of relief again and slid his head band off finally and set it down beside him on the floor. He began to untie his red running shoes and for the first time noticed they were Nike's. He sat back against his bed and saw Sanford and Son come on and almost forgot entirely of the incident and smiled.

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Are You Worshiping a Myth?

When Jesus came on the scene in 1st century Jerusalem, he wasn't quite what they were expecting. It started back with Adam and Eve in Eden. They walked with God in the cool of the day, enjoying their union, not a caring in the newly created world. One day, they were tempted, believed a lie that if they were to eat of the fruit of knowledge of good and evil, they would become like God. The problem starts before the fruit, however. They had forgotten they already were like God, they were made his image and likeness, the very mirrored reflection of goodness. God said they were ‘very good’ when he made them. They ate, and saw themselves for the first time. It was the first time because they were, up to that point, unable to see anything but God and goodness and glory and all that encompasses the divine; it was in the fabric of their being. 

They ran and hid in the nearest bush, ashamed and fearful of the God they just recently had walked in union with. God comes along, not at the point of disobedience, but when their opinion of themselves began to differ from that which was his opinion of them all along. God looks at them and, in an attempt to entice identity asks, ‘Where are you?’ God could see they had forgotten who they were, trying on their own, to become something he had already made them and up to that point they had been enjoying. He could see they had forgotten they weren't made shameful or guilty and therefore called out to them, ‘Where are YOU?’ 

In Luke 9 Jesus set out for Jerusalem as his time on earth was coming to an end. He sent some of his disciples ahead to Samaria to collect their belongings and get things ready for him. The Samaritans and Jews didn’t exactly get along too well. Similar to what we see with the Jews and Egyptians. In fact, if you look at the story of Moses delivering his people from the hands of Pharaoh. Pharaoh finally let the Jews go and so the Jews collected their belongings and were on their way. As time passed, Pharaoh’s mind changed, his heart hardened, and he went after them. You know the story, the sea parted and as they approached, fire reigned down from heaven to blockade the Egyptian army from getting to them. As they drew near, it says the Lord looked down upon them through a pillar of fire and cloud (Exodus 14:24) and confused them. These 1st century Jews most assuredly knew this text and confirmed what image of God had been formulated in their minds. The Samaritans rejected the Jews and Jesus’ disciples, knowing how God operates according to a people group opposed to God’s people, ask Jesus if he would like them to call fire down from heaven. Jesus rebukes them telling them they don’t know what spirit they’re of. 

Jesus was completely unfamiliar to the Jewish people. They had such a view and idea of who God was that when they interacted with and saw Jesus, he was nothing like what they had expected the Messiah to be. God did things like reign down fire and destroy people groups, etcetera. And here was Jesus, full of grace, mercy, love, compassion and service. These weren't exactly the attributes they used to describe God. However, in John 14, Jesus is sitting down with his friends, eating their last meal together, and begins by telling them that he needs to go where they cannot go themselves, but once he’s there, they will be there with him. Jesus is speaking of the cross, the place he was heading, on his own for all of humanity, and once he was there, all of humanity would find themselves present there on the cross with him. He then tells them that they know the way to that place. This confuses them and they ask for more details. Jesus tells them that he is the way. The way is a person. These friends were so used to a walk, a journey, a law and covenant to live by and follow. All of a sudden, they’re being told this new way is a person, not some laws for righteousness to follow, but a person, righteousness itself. This confuses them some more and Jesus helps their confusion by explaining the difference in what they've always known to be true and what was siting right in front of them all along. 

Jesus says, ‘You believe in God, believe also in me’ (John 14:1). Jesus wasn't trying to show that God and he were somehow 2 beings, but acknowledging that they believed in God, and it was a passionate, zealous faith, with that same faith, believe in me. Why? In their estimations, if they could just see the Father, they’d be alright. Jesus says, ‘If you've seen me, you've seen the Father’ (John 14:9). He then says that he’s in the Father and the Father is in him and that ‘the words I say to you I do not speak on my own authority. Rather, it is the Father, living in me, who is doing his work’ (v.10). This was revolutionary for them to hear since all they gathered from what God was like was reining fire and destroying nations and cursing and hardening, etcetera. Their paradigm was being challenged and Jesus was finally able to explain to them what spirit they were operating in and what Spirit they were now seeing.

The view Adam and Eve adopted, hiding in that bush, was the same view the disciples lived with daily. And here Jesus is, the perfect picture of the true God walking through Eden in the cool of the day. The God so displaced and far removed from the hearts and minds of the people. Colossians 1:21 says that we were alienated and enemies of God IN OUR OWN MINDS because of evil behavior. We hold an idea that we’re somehow alienated from God by our bad behavior and therefore if we get our act together we’ll draw ourselves closer to him. This was Old Covenant through and through. Jesus, being the New Covenant, was illuminating to them what has been all along. 

God’s has never stop believing in you. He’s never thought of you any other way than ‘very good’. Our minds had changed. Our view of ourselves became perverted and we projected that onto God as what his opinion must be of us. They thought they knew God enough that when presented with a similar situation, they remembered how God responded and felt they should respond the same. Jesus encouraged them that if they’d seen Jesus, saw how he loved, had grace, compassion and how he served people, that was, in fact, the true picture of God. In fact, it was actually God who was doing these things through him. 

Too often we have a myth in mind when we think of God. From Adam and Eve to, unfortunately, even today, we have been worshiping a myth. Our view of God that we approach reverently and sacredly is not God at all. It does make a great deal of importance what our view of God is. Are we worshiping a myth? Are we dealing with God at all in our traditions? Jesus was then, and continues today, to challenge the traditions of man and religion. The very person of Jesus is a reminder of God’s ‘very good’ definition of us as opposed to our own ‘shameful, run to the nearest bush in hiding’ kind of understanding. 

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Grace: License to OR License From?

Grace is not a license to sin. This is what grace does and is: 1 Corinthians 10:23 says that 'everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial'. Why? Where does this come from? Paul is explaining that what Christ has done for humanity has been to free them from sin (used as a noun-as an identity and definition rather than action or behavior) and freed into righteousness. This freedom is freedom, whether someone, in their actions, chooses to go back to sin or move in their righteousness and holiness. To make himself clear, he poses the rhetorical question at the beginning of Romans 6 when he says, 'what should we say, continue in sin so grace can increase? May it never be!' Paul is adamant on this point as he continues to explain how it literally is impossible to continue in sin (as a noun) since we've died to it. He then makes reference a little later on that therefore because of this beautiful truth, don't give yourselves over to sin (used now as a verb- actions and behaviors). Since you've been freed from sin (noun- identity and nature), don't go back to sin (verb- the actions and behaviors). And why? He ends this chapter by expressing that while we're free, before you make your decision on how you want to live that freedom, think back to when you were in that old lifestyle. What fruit did it ever produce in you other than shame? That's because it's not of who you are anymore so don't do it! Paul ends his wonderful letter to the Galatians dissecting the difference in the old sinful nature as opposed to the new creation reality. He gives a list to show the stark contrast and then eases his friends that they need not be worried and fearful of grace as a license to continue in that old lifestyle, because grace has finally freed them from the bondage and slavery of sin. The reality, he shows, is that even the passions and desires of the old sinful nature were crucified too (Gal. 5:24). And because of that you're free to finally walk out and walk into the wonder and gladness of your new creation selves, free of sin and sinfulness. The righteousness that was given to you is a new lifestyle. One without sinfulness. You'll finally experience and be able to enjoy that newness once you're actually living that out. Going back to old sinful habits is like taking one step back from realizing your new self. 2 Corinthians 5 explains that all who have been included in his death and resurrection (all humanity) are new creations and that the old is gone and the new has come. Walking in the lifestyle of the new is how you experience and enjoy the new. You won't ever enjoy it if you can't see it while still running back to old habits and sinful patterns. You are free, yes, to choose how you want to live your life and it won't diminish or take away who you truly are, which is the righteousness of God (2 Cor. 5:21) since he's given himself to be your new identity; that's grace! However, if you don't ever see that in you, if you keep at that old sinful and shameful lifestyle, you'll never experience that newness and enjoyment of new creation. The point of Paul sharing this wasn't to make sure people still lived a moral life (he knew that actions and behavior didn't define the person anyway), but that by realizing this outrageous truth, we would finally walk in the fullness of the gift God gave us through Christ. The enjoyment of his gift. Simple and profound and still misunderstood and offensive today as ever.

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Poems: Agatha.

Agatha Agatha rode and stopped one day She buried her horse Her show Her play She knew she'd awake She carried the weight She almost saw the good She never knew the taste Before the kite broke into sky The wind The change The motion I saw agatha running away I saw agatha marry today Agatha found it real and strange Agatha faced her palm and damage He laid there She stood He still She blinked Run away dear Under star and sky Run away near Too far makes mention of bad Hiding until dawn Making up as we go along Agatha said she'd never marry again Agatha promised a better second half Agatha wanted something stone for old Agatha couldn't stare too long And too cold From cartwheels to triumphs A terror and a blur A sunset from the window A tremor and a mirror Reflect and obey Dismantle and convey A second story worldview Another one for seconds sake A sixteen hour flight tomorrow Another bright dust A fix A borrow Agatha remembers something tight Something knit and a coma A sucked down brilliant aftermath pajama A suit for suffer And mixed dilemma Agatha screamed when she saw her words Written in scandal And a bath for good Agatha carried another someone's weight Agatha married just second too late And she knew the mirror The reflection clearer Agatha couldn't speak Agatha grew weak Agatha sat an insect repellant Agatha ran forever and them some.

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Poems: Image.

Image Remember when this was real Close my eyes like they'll never open Cease the rain The pouring wont stop There's no real tragedy My own is simple Terror by the light The weight so still to rest Under the stage I play and I wait Copy after copy Another goes blind Another saves the day I cannot stop the motion The horror maybe even still Until the end I see and pretend A monitor and a thrill A crest to fall A moment too far Against what I see Against she and me A mirror to shape An imagine too complete Fullness dwelling Perfection to be I'm over abundant I can't steal the show Enough it breaks I'm easy I'm game I stay and wait And I play the same shame I am struggle I am free I am over I am distance I am never I am this way forever I can't complain And I won't I won't I won't I wouldn't survive Even if they asked me a hundred times In a little while you'll see me go In a little while there won't be my ghost In a little while ill be gone In that moment passed this'll remain a song So sing it Sing it good Sing it like you've never understood You didn't You couldn't You wouldn't You wouldn't dare Sixteen stays And sixteen remembers A broken stolen system Dissembles amidst the proud

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Poems: Conditioned.

Conditioned. And I've spent so much time wondering about people. It's that love that strings you up. it's too much. I've conditioned myself, for sometime now, to harden, and while I may recognize the sadness in someone, I just pretend like its inevitable. Like it can't stop and it can't change. And I can feel it wrap, I can feel it clawing up and down. It reaches up and it reaches in, It's familiar more than it should be I know. And whatever it's name and whatever it finds itself to be Whatever I've seen it seem like to me Ill always subscribe The condition I've conditioned To know and to fleet To feel it so concrete Under water and in between Up and around and below the seems I tell myself it's not as much it seems I tell myself it's something different It's something unfamiliar unseen And I know You know I know And there's something underneath Something defining and intelligent Incongruent and serene Affluent and diseased So much So soon You see me I see you We both can nod A nod a gift A shiver too stiff We know I know You know Who knows? Insincere and tribal I can color in all the lines The blue and the white And grey they're all mine Every one Not at all And it's done It's all done. No one knows me And that's good We know I know You know Who knows? Every one Not at all And it's done It's all done.

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Poems: OK.

Ok. There are only a few that I let in A few that care enough to begin A few at once that can cease and then resolve A blanket approach A quibble and a squab A cliche racquet A bullshit laughter A sometime someone who never seem to remember And I know what it's like I've been there before A crowded room A roll up proof A skimp and scroll And another one spoon A familiar lens And I know how this looks A familiar fog And I know what this is I think it's been years I can count It's here again Say hello An old friend A foe forgotten mold A growth spirt prism A factual situation rhythm Accepting a searing what-could-it-be And I almost lost it all again Ill tell you I mean I mean a dream That lasted a million times before A stage and anthem A plague and chasm I left it alone I felt its scorn You told me it once I forgot Tell me again A missing little child A blind adolescent mild A formula to speak It's become something more than me I've never inherited the earth or the cold The solider blinking river Or a stage uphill from old A pillow talking masquerade A simple minded fumbled charade It's complicated you see I can't explain So I won't I couldn't And I shouldn't So I won't You reply ok.

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Poems: Stillness.

Stillness. I sit still and wait My thoughts like waves One right after another Over and over It puts me under Under their spell I'm at their whim I can stare at the floor And for all I know It's a wood and a tile A place held together for miles And it skips to the road Where I travel and traverse The concrete and the absurd Stretched thin over a veil of unlikely rubble A car crash and a tailgate A cone set up and failing To skip again as what I notice comes in It takes over and begins I sit still and think The places that know me Better than I can remember them I've left it here I've misplaced me over there As congruent as an ant uphill No consciousness aboard No vandal at the door Let me be Curl up to die Away from all the trouble that knocks at my insides A secretary pageant Taking phones and notes and bothers Swivel and comfy Shot back and stumpy Licked through glue and stuck in gold And I skip again This time to my home A ramble little atrophy Sitting still through all the colors A run around blitz Jump into a mindful slip When I lay it all down and nod gracefully at the crowd They'll see and they'll know I skip again and it's snow To winter and bloom The green showing through A tomorrow whisper shrug I can't remember Skip again To a blanket of night sky The prairie I left behind The mountains that peak sunrise A momentary loss of caring I can count them all Pretend to fall In love with a midnight like you It tries to skip And ill convince it still To stay awhile longer Rushing through details to make it last stronger And a memory here A twofold cringe and a beer It conceives another memory Another stillness to skip to Another moment in life Containing this one and last and another goodbye I can release it now And skip it somehow I forgot what it was like To sit still in murmured light.

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Sufficient Grace: Limited or Overwhelmingly Abundant?

​Often times we approach scripture with our minds tied behind our backs unable to see things beyond what our past has allowed us to. We may have grown up with a certain understanding of this or that and for the most part we continue that into today whether we like it or not. When I grew up I traditionally read about the apostle Paul and his struggle with a certain sin or at the very least with a thorn in his side. In the 9th verse of that 12th chapter in 2 Corinthians, Paul then shares a bit about what God had to say concerning his prayers for relief from this thorn. He says, “My grace is sufficient for you.” And then he goes on to say, of course, that his power is made perfect in weakness, and so on. This phrase is often quoted back to people struggling with something or someone, and wondering how they’re going to get over it and through it. Whether it’d be a certain sin they’re habitually going back to, a problem they need solving and divine wisdom for, or simply a someone in their life they find difficult to get along with, perhaps even acting as their own personal thorn in the flesh; the point here is that God’s grace being sufficient should never be simplified down to situational as if there was some kind of limit to the amount of grace that would be extended to such a situation. In this estimation, grace is often seen as limited, that there is only a limited amount of grace given to any circumstance and no matter how much grace is given, no worries, because, it’s a sufficient amount. However, what if we were to look at the scope and reality of grace and see a different picture trying to be portrayed by the Holy Spirit? In Romans 5, the same Paul is sharing that wherever there is sin, grace abounds all the more. He expounds on this idea so much so that it’s almost seen as we should just go ahead and sin to our hearts content so we can actually get more grace. Paul even has to address this exact same question because of the implicated assumptions being made by his listeners or readers. The point in this is that Paul is making a claim about grace that says whatever situation sin has either created or come out of, grace is already bigger, greater and covering it, releasing it, and available for relief and healing for that state of affairs. He says the gift is not like the trespass because to an extent that grace is greater, that simple fact is what makes sin actually limited in its power. Therefore, since sin is limited in its power, grace, the gift, is not like sin because it is not limited in its power. Paul then, fast-forward with me, says in 2 Corinthians about a condition he’s found himself in, and has prayed about the relief and release of, and God’s response is a reminding him of what he’s already explained to others, in that, his grace, overwhelmingly is sufficient. It is not to belittle the circumstance you may find yourself in, but to direct your attention to what is already present rather than stay on what you believe you lack. We live in the midst of his grace. It was grace that saved us, drew us out of our human condition, removed sin from our humanity and set us in heavenly places in Christ Jesus. Grace has and always will be sufficient. Does that mean there is always immediate relief in a struggling situation? Of course not! If we’re struggling, it is resting in his grace that’s already eternally present with us that we see our true respite. If we break grace down situational, and ask for, in that situation, some new fresh kind of grace to come to our aid, we’ll be disappointed because we’re missing the forest for the trees in a sense. It’s as if you’re looking into the ocean and you notice all the fish, sharks and whales, but are incapable of seeing the water they’re swimming in. We have now been placed in the ocean of grace to live in; recognizing that, it will be seen as the sufficiency it is rather than absent as we so often believe it to be. God’s power is made perfect in our weakness is the next line Jesus shares emphasizing this point. It was while we were weakened by the sinful nature (Romans 8:3), living in a weak and powerless state (Romans 5:6), that he stepped into our broken humanity to take on the likeness of sinful flesh (Romans 8:3) and in that state, sentenced sin and death to die on the cross. He who knew no sin became sin (2 Cor. 5:21) so sin could die and we be given the righteousness of God in its place. Grace has always been sufficient to resolve and dissolve any sin issue, to the fact that grace has forever swallowed up sin in the death of Christ on the cross. The very nature of grace is sufficient to relieve, release and heal and free from the thorns of sin if we allow ourselves to see the grace we’re in and not distracted by the grace we believe we lack. God is forever reminding us, in our struggle, that even though we struggle, it is in his already sufficient grace and power that is perfect for us in that moment. My grace is sufficient should not then be seen as a limited kind of grace but rather an overwhelmingly powerful redeeming kind of grace that has become the curse for us, become the disease for us, become the sin on our behalf and therefore giving us the freedom to enjoy righteousness, joy and him forever.