Home

Was reflecting on my recent trip to Seattle a moment ago with a couple of friends.  I was describing how comforting it was to be thousands of miles away from anyone that knew my name.  It's a comfort beyond words.  Sitting on the shore, eating fish.  The smell of salt mixed with beer hitting my nostrils flooded my mind with thoughts I never had before....or sense.  I voiced words I never thought I would utter.  I felt like I had arrived home. 

Home.  A metaphysical ideal more than a reality.  Growing up "home" was always the place I wanted to escape from, instead of place of safety from the world.  No.  For me the world offered safety, freedom.  Home was the one place I never wanted to be.  The place I dreaded more than anywhere else.  There was a strange irony in calling my place of residence "home".  For if "home" was where I was, then it wasn't where my family was.  Where ever I went family were waiting for me.  I never could arrive.  I never could get settled.  I never could find home.  Home was always out there waiting, beckoning, calling.

I saw it a few times.  Dreams mostly.  Reclusive thoughts of a place far away.  Water splashing the shore.  People, strange, pleasant people living their lives, giving little business to mine.  Not in a arrogant way, or even apathetic.  Merely a tolerant acceptance.  Peaceful.  Wonderfully peaceful.  People that love....you....me.  Love you enough to ask you how you feel about cigars.  Love you enough to say that you need to have an opinion.   Your own opinion.

Are there bad people?  What is bad?  Who decides?  Are "they" bad?  I grew up being told that those that smoke were bad.  But my Aunt smoked and I didn't think she was bad.  I did learn that it was bad for me to be in a car with those that smoked with little fresh air.  Now however, it's not so bad.  As long as the window is down.  Sitting outside with those that smoke?  There is little that is better in life.  I even realized that as a kid, sitting outside on my Uncle's porch late one night talking with my Aunt as the cool breeze filled out lungs.  I grew up being told that those that drink were bad.  But my dad drank, and I didn't think that he was bad.  Though I was scared the night I learned he picked up me for a visit drunk.  Now?  I still don't like being around drunks (unless I am wrestling).  But kicking back with a Corona or Jack and Coke with some friends is relaxing.....almost like coming home.  I was told growing up that people that lived on "that" side of town were bad; to lock the doors when we drove down "that" street.  There are days when that's advisable, when Brian or Mike are too high to carry on a conversation with.  But there are also days when I pile them and their friends into my car and go out to eat, my treat.  I listen to their stories.  We laugh, cry.  I hear of their kids, their parents.  I learn how to make a rose out of napkin.  I learn how they ended up on the street.  I do what I can to help.  I learn that they don't want my pity.  I try to show that I am not giving pity...but really care about them...as people...as friends.  People I would love to bring home.

But not to my parents.  For my parents don't live at home. 

They say home is where your heart is.  My heart?  My heart is out there.  My heart is wild.  My heart is free.  My heart is home.  Not at rest...but at peace.  I don't know if home will ever be a place of rest for me.  But peace.  Whew.  I long for peace.  I have always longed for peace.  I found a comforting peace in the wonder of Seattle.  A peace I didn't quite expect when I headed out there.  Though I didn't know what I had found, I think I found home.

What do the stats show?

Interesting article I came across on the growing religious trends in america. 
http://www.usatoday.com/news/religion

Publish Post

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the world around me

I need help with something.  I need help in understanding the price we put on someone's career.  I found out today that a friend of a friend lost their job.  Not surprising in this economy.  What is surprising, at least to me, was his severance check.  $10,000 a month for the next few months, can't remember how many.  And more, he is terribly upset at the amount.  Wait, there is even more.  Since losing his job, he has turned down 2 job offers both of them about $90,000 each.  Why?  Not enough money.

Not enough money?!?!?!  When is it ever enough money?  When will our greed be satisfied?  I just don't get it.  Seriously, I don't.  I don't understand why people think that some people are worth "x" amount, while others are worth "y".  I don't understand how people get trapped into thinking that this world is about money.  I don't understand the how someone can put a price tag on themselves and say I won't work unless I can make "x" amount.  Really, it seriously baffles me.  And deeply saddens me.

Needless to say, I was shocked when I heard this.  I tried to wrap my mind around what this young man was thinking.  The more I tried to understand his mentality, the more I wanted to cry.  I had serious questions floating in my mind.  Who assigns these price tags to people?  How did we ever get to a place where we think we are good enough to actually work for these extravagant prices?  Do we realize what working for these prices does to global economy?  Why do some careers offer big bucks, while others offer you little to nothing?  Is there more driving people in their decision of career choices than money?  If there is, then what?  How do these other rewards stack up against money?  What is money in the first place?

I thought of me, for example. Everyone knows that you don't go into ministry for the money.  It's doesn't pay much.  Working on staff at three churches and one para-church ministry, I doubt that I have made $20,000 total.  I don't do it for the money.  Would I like more?  Of course.  But I don't need more.  I have a roof, clothes to put on, and everyone can tell by looking at me that I am not even close to going hungry.  I thought those were the things we need.  Basic necessities of life.  Everything else is luxury.  Now granted, I live an extremely simple life which wouldn't be practical for most people.  But the point still applies.  We are living and have grown accustomed to living well beyond what anyone person should.  I also don't have dependents, which this person had.  I am not going to pretend to act like I know what raising kids costs.  But I do know it can be done for far little than $90,000.

I think it is time we started reassessing what truly matters in this world; what truly matters in our lives.  Money is needed, that's obvious.  But what we spending it on?  Who are we to declare that we, or anyone is worth a dollar amount?  Are we guilty of selling our soul?  What do we do with all this wealth?

These are serious questions that demand our attention.  I just hope it's not too late.

Theology over a rainy afternoon meal

Was challenged today in how I read the New Testament.  We assume a lot when we read it, or at least I do.  I usually take it for granted that what I am reading is more than merely recorded history.  But where do I get I assumption?  Is it far?  The Hebrew Scriptures record many of the failures of their leaders.  I respect that we have a well rounded view of, say King David.  2 Samuel doesn't have any reserve in exposing this man for who is truly is; a man that through his many failures loves God with everything inside of him.  He wasn't perfect.  Far from it.  But we can gain from his life encouragement for our own.  His failures make him appear like a real person.  But we somehow change our lens when we flip a few pages over to the New Testament.  We don't like to think about these men failing in their lives and ministries.  Where do we get off saying that they did ministry right, that theirs is an example to follow?  What if it isn't?  What if they did do something wrong? 

Paul confronting Peter for example.  We have only one record of this instance.  Paul in Galatians tells us of a time when he had to confront Peter on an issue.  Without getting into the issue they were dealing with, Paul is retelling of a time when Peter was acting hypocritical in his dealings towards Gentiles.  From other places we can see that yes, Peter was in the wrong.  But how do we read this confrontation.  Do we read this as an example of how we are to confront our brother in sin?  Or do we merely read it as recorded history?  Paul, in seeing Peter acting wrongly took it upon himself to correct him.  Was Paul right in doing this?  How do we discern a yes or no? 

In the conversation today at lunch, this question was raised in the context of a larger question; do we have a right to get angry at sin.  I never have thought of this before.  I guess I have always adopted the assumption that since God gets angry at sin, and God doesn't sin himself, getting angry at sin is something that is allowed for me.  In other words, God does it, so of course it's okay for me to do.  To this line of thinking, my friend replied, "Where are we called to get angry?  The command that we have been given is to love."  He went on to question whether we have the right to get angry at sin, since all of us are sinners.  Who are we getting angry at?  He too questioned, if we do have the right to get angry, where is the line between getting angry and sinning and getting angry and not sinning.  Wouldn't it be easier to not bother in answering that question by merely doing our best in not getting angry; in every situation loving each other.

I agreed.  I am challenged, and convicted.  I need to love more and also learn how to be a better student of Scriptures.

To peak or not to peak

I love this question. I wish I had more time to write on it. I may sometime. I am putting in out here now cause I don't think it can wait. I would open the box because the apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians says that if Jesus didn't rise from the dead, christians would be the most pitied of all men on earth. I need truth. I crave truth. At this moment, I believe the evidence best points to Jesus being God. I speak that. I teach other people that. If that is wrong, I not only make myself to be a liar but God to be a liar also. I believe as one who claims to speak for God that it is my responsibility to know truth as much as I can.

black and white

I saw this video a few months ago when I was out in Seattle. It is from a site called Recycle Your Faith that posts thought provoking videos every week. Our small group watched this and I was convicted. Too many times I have made life to be black and white, right or wrong. Too many times I have considered me to be on the side of those that are "right". How arrogant! I listened to this story about this doctor and wondered what I would have done. I don't know. But I know that I am not the judge in this situation. I know that the doctor was saving lives and doing what he thought to be the right thing. I know that morality isn't as black and white as I once thought.

I wrote my initial thoughts on this video a few months ago here

http://thewoundedwarrior.blogspot.com/2009/08/god-is-pro-life-why-arent-his-people.html

New edits

With being gone during the summer, I have kept my blogs stylistically simple; writing only. Over the next couple of weeks I will be going back over the blogs and editing them with pictures, movies, and such. So much of the story is missing hearing or seeing only my side of what was happening in Seattle. In rereading some blogs, I may find something that needs to be rewritten. In keeping with my declaration of the appreciation of the rawness of life, I will keep the text as is in the first draft. Any additions or reworking of a piece will happen in the present with a reference link back to the original. Have fun reading.

Kingdoms collide

I have been reading Daniel lately. A wonderful reminder of how the christian's resident alien-ship is lived out. With Jesus came the Kingdom of God, and his followers are now living in an in between time of two opposing kingdoms. Everyday we, as followers of Christ are placed in a similar situation as Daniel. We are being exposed to the teachings of this world which go against the principles of the Kingdom that Christ taught us. We are consistently being faced with similar questions as Daniel, such as how to stay pure in this foreign country. For Daniel as his friends, their answer in how to keep their identity as a people set apart was to eat veggies and drink water. I am wondering what it is for us today. In what ways can we send a message to the world (to america?) that while will be live among you, we will never be part of you. Some, including myself, have taken the outward sign of not pledging our allegiance to the flag and the rulers that it stands for. However, in my reading of Daniel, I am wondering if merely outward symbols somehow miss the point. Yesterday I was reminded of how fanfare can blind people from the point. If you have to stand up and shout about the new ___________ you now have, most likely it is merely for show and not a heart felt conviction. While I am not condoning going back to pledging allegiance to a foreign kingdom, I am wanting to explore how and where one draws the line in living in a foreign land. Do we announce it with great fanfare, with loud and stubborn conviction? Or do we embody the spirit of the mustard seed which was one of Christ's examples of what this new Kingdom looks like? If we do lean toward the more quite, humble approach, what practical examples of creating our own identity can we, should we live out?

Reason

If I had to give one reason why I love her, it would have to be the way that she challenges my faith, by drawing me out of my quiet, introverted self to show me the world that desperately needs to not just hear, but also see Christ’s love lived out consistently. I tend to be a very deeply introspective person, so much so at times, that I find myself lost in spiritual thoughts, but fail to bridge the gap into practical action, that is, until I met her. She and I will talk for hours about one little aspect of who God is or what His character is like, or we may talk about one struggle we are having in our relationship with Christ, or may explore a question we have; it doesn’t matter what we talk about, we can bounce ideas back and forth all night. She, however, does not leave the thoughts as just thoughts, as I normally do, but is able to come up with practical ways to bring glory and honor to God at her present state in life, in ways that directly relate to our conversation; these are things that I would have never come up with on my own. I stand amazed at not only how simple, innocent, honest, and pure her faith is in God, but how quick she can bridge the gap between head and heart faith; she truly knows and understands cognitively about her faith, but is unwilling to leave it in her head, even for one second. It is this drive and continual passion for active faith lived out that makes me love and respect her, as well as strive to live out my own faith. She helps me look for tangible ways that will stretch the limits of how “dirty” I am willing to get to share Christ with those that are hurting.

Horror

Voices rising.
Fear, embarrassment flooding my bones.
Not again.
Not again.
Gathering children like a hen,
protecting them from the horror of what was to follow.
How could they?
When were they going to grow up?
Protecting children!!!!????
Who is going to protect me?
I am the oldest, I must protect.
Voices rising...if you could even call them that.
Nothing distinguishable.
Merely squeaks.
I know their are voices.
I hear them every day.
Almost grown used to the cacophony.
Almost can find silence in deafening shrieks.
Most times I find comfort in the fetal position
and my cat.
My terror stricken cat.
The one that I abandoned.
Even after promising to rescue from that hell.
But today there is no cat.
There is no hiding away.
Merely the responsibility of protecting the others from experiencing the hell I live through everyday.
We try to pretend we don't hear it.
Try to imagine it's not there.
But that is impossible.
The shrieks are getting closer,
closer and louder.
In an act of bravery? stupidity? I see what is making all this noise.
Cats?!?!?!
I stand paralyzed witnessing sights which no one ever should see.
Two over human sized cats rolling down the hallway trying to kill each other.
Nauseous at the monstrosity before my eyes I quickly come to my senses and shut the door.
I have little ones to attend to.
However to my shock they are gone.
Vanished....never to be seen from again.

lovers unite

Frozen. Fear gripping every word, every letter. Thoughts censored even before they are. Can I write this? Will that be the end? Will this disappear even before I get a chance to let the thoughts sit?

Ready to blow with thoughts that don't exist. How can they exist? The moment I let them out is the moment they cease being. Or is it the other way around. The very fact that I kept them locked up is the reason they.....float away?

No ripped.

Ripped from the very fabric of reality.

But I remember. I can still see it like it was yesterday.

If I can trust my thoughts.

Which she has made me question more than a few times. But she can't silence me anymore. She can't make me think that I am crazy. I remember. I remember even if she has forgotten.

But can I trust my memories.

More than that can I trust the ink that they are written with. The ink which has betrayed me day after day. Damn you ink. I thought that we were lovers. Dancing intimately letter by letter. Through our love making words that would last. Lovely words which would carry on our name. But you betray me, just like her. Do you lover her more than me?

But alas, I have taken you captive one last time. I will make sweet love to you. Holding you, caressing you. We will recreate the words that the two of you have secretly stolen. I will expose your infidelity. We will write the truth even if it is the death of you.

I remember.

I remember.

Please Come and Go

Run. Run…Go… Please don't question… Please don't fight this. Just Go. I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already am. You are too special to me. Save yourself. I promise I will fuck you over. I will stab you in the back. Rip out your heart. I will lie to you, I will dishonor you, objectify you. Why are you still here? Please get the hell away from me. Run save yourself. I am a bomb. I am a disease. You will ever be pulling shrapnel from your ass and your heart. Please don't touch me. You will rot from my leprosy. You are too special, please run, please go. I don't want to kill you. I want you to live, I want you to run.

Please don't run…you are all I have. You are my best friend. You are the only one I can trust. You are the only one I know that is strong enough to hold my wonder and doubt, my laughter and tears, my curses and praises. Please don't run. Help me remember. Please don't run you are the only one courageous enough to meet me here. Please don't run, stay here beside me. Hold me as I cry. I am not strong enough right now, is that okay? Will you still stay? Stay knocking at my door. Hang on. Please love me as I selfishly drag you through hell. Please don't run. I want to look at you with the lights on.

I wish I could take credit for the work of genius above. Many times these words have been mine. Moments of despair, trying desperately to hold on to some faint glimpse of reality, while everyone dear to me has given up hope. It was during one of those times, about two years ago, that I stumbled on this piece of art while reading through random blogs. While I saved the words, I forgot to save the source. Forgive me. Author, whoever you are, thank you for being honest enough to write the words so many have felt guilty to even feel.

Dancing with my Lord

Oh how I long to dance, dance with my Lord. To feel
His arms around me as we sway to sweet melodies. To
feel Him caress me and hold me close, close to the
body that was bruised for me. As His hand grasps mine
my heart skips a beat, for I can feel it. I close my
eyes. A tear falls from my eye and I feel it again as
His hand grazes my cheek. I feel the scar. The very
place the nails pierced His hands. All at once my
thoughts are filled with guilt that I was the one who
held the nail. Then to my surprise He answered my
thoughts. His voice soft, but also so full and
assuring. "No my child, my love, my bride. No, I
held the nail. I love you, I've always loved you, so
much that I took your place so we could be together.
Your sin I have forgiven, forgotten. Your the most
beautiful child I've seen. I embraced those nails,
and now I embrace you, my dearest love. Dance with
me. Dance with me." He then pulled me so close that
I could fell His heart beat. Should I dare look into
His eyes. Once again He answered me, "It's okay." I
open my eyes and lift my head and gaze into the most
radiant face. It was beaming with the brightest
light. Not blinding light, but glowing with
indescribable glory. Then there they were, twinkling
like the stars. No the stars twinkle like His eyes,
for He was here before the stars. He was the one who
placed them in the heavens. I felt a warmth, a
comfort from staring into the eyes of my Creator. The
melodies continued, but now it was a song of
celebration, of liberation. He gave me a twirl and
the tempo increased. We were now leaping for joy, for
I am free. "Rejoice my child! I have "bought" you home.
You were worth all the pain." And almost
instantaneously I was standing on the floor of the the
most glorious throne room. My Lord was now sitting on
the right hand of a robe that is unending, forever
going up into the sky. "Dance for me my child." I am
on the largest dance floor imaginable having God the
Father, Jesus the Son and all the heavenly angels as
my audience. I am being invited to dance a dance of
worship and praise before all of heaven. I can't. I
can't bring myself to move. All the eyes of heaven
should not be upon me. "They always have been. I've
been there cheering you on. I've been there helping
you to this place. Worship me in dance. Show your
gratitude now as I take joy in you being here. For
you finally made it, my child. The race has been won.
The fight is now over. Let the celebration begin.
You made it home, my child. I am so proud of you.
Now dance. Dance. Dance." Oh how I long to dance,
before my Lord.

Juno and relationships

Just finished watching Juno. Great movie. Sad. Deeply sad in a comforting sort of way. Being a man, there were some obvious ways in which I couldn't relate to Juno. But, subtly, I could see myself in her. Especially when she is dealing with the breakup of her babies adopted parents. I greatly could identify with her pain and confusion. She goes back home and asks her dad if true love is possible, if two people ever stay together. I have wondered that too. Many times. Sometimes I am fearful of getting into a relationship. Saves the pain of breaking up.

I am stil here

Just wanted to let people know that I am still active and will be blogging soon. I have gotten back from my trip out west and have been going at full speed with starting my last year of school, starting a new job, getting situated in a new house, and interning at a church. All that has kept me extremely busy, however things are starting to settle down and I plan to update my blog as soon as I am able.

On a side note, being a psychology guru as well as an aspiring theologian, I have been fascinated with the development and the popularity of blogs for quite some time. While I am fairly new to the whole scene, I have been extremely blessed and challenged with taking on this site. I do want to blog more consistently and grow in my understanding of our cultures growing obsession with the online social scene.

I say all that to tell you that as soon as I get settled into a normal routine, I am going to take the challenge of blogging seriously. I am wanting to make this a priority in my life. Both as a personal hobby but also as an experiment into understanding the psychology behind online communities and social networking.