Happy Advent

As it does every year, Christmas time has come again. It’s the wonderful time of the year of family togetherness, sharing, love and of course the incarnation of Jesus Christ. Often what first comes to my memory at least are fond memories of Christmas cookies, Christmas music, Family, some of my favorite presents (one of my all time favorites being the G.I. Joe headquarters), and manger scenes. However, throughout the years and especially this year the magic seems gone. I am assuming it is something to do with growing up because all that is seen is another break from the monotony and hectic pressures of all of life’s needs and concerns. As a kid I stared with wide-eyed amazement at the Christmas tree our family would put up and just get lost in the colorful glow and would often climb under it and stare up for a better look. The house smelled like cookies and my siblings and I would be giddy with expectation of our presents to come while we watched the specials on TV like Rudolph and the Grinch. Joy set in with a mystical blanket that covered everything that I knew.
Yet now I sit in front of a tree and gas fueled fire somewhat missing those days and looking at the world as what it truly is, cold and grim. Granted that I have become much more of a cynic through the past five or so year, more than most but working on it. I could rant and rave about the commercialization of a sacred holiday or even feel so enlightened to bring up pagan traditions and play the role of the wise Grinch. I say this not to make sure that the taste of coal goes forth in this advent but to inspire, provoke, and possibly instill a little hope.
It has been awhile since I have seen a Christmas movie. Some of the bigger ones like Elf and the Santa Clause trilogy have been some of the more notable in the past few years. My favorite by far was the Nativity film that came out last year. The bulk of the family flicks that come out inspire warmth, love, compassion and kindness to one’s fellow man, a breath of fresh air from the chaos and disappointment from life. Sad to say that the most recent Christmas film I watched was the first Die Hard movie, which I suggest no one to see. On top of being filled with profuse profanity, spots of nudity, and all around violence, it also took place on Christmas Eve. Things were blown up, adultery was made light, bitterness was glorified, lives were violently ended, pride was praised, and injustice was having a heyday. This, my friends, is the meaning of Christmas.
Now, before I get labeled a jaded Scrooge, I know that it’s tempting, to better clarify this is the reason for Christmas. Christmas has more often than not become a tradition of Americana and then passes by with the huge sales the next year. Carols are reflected on and we thank Jesus for becoming a baby so that we may have salvation. We are thankful for the gift of God and are befuddled at the hats of the Magi, in this brief time joy has truly come to the world.
There is no book, in my opinion that talks about the incarnation and the meaning of it like that of Isaiah. So much more than forgiveness of sins is at hand:
“Justice is turned back, and righteousness stands far away; for truth has stumbled in the public squares, and uprightness cannot enter. Truth is lacking, and he who departs from evil makes himself a prey. The LORD saw it, and it displeased him that there was no justice. He saw that there was no man, and wondered that there was no one to intercede; then his own arm brought him salvation, and his righteousness upheld him. He put on righteousness as a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on his head; he put on garments of vengeance for clothing, and wrapped himself in zeal as a cloak. According to their deeds, so will he repay, wrath to his adversaries, repayment to his enemies; to the coastlands he will render repayment. So they shall fear the name of the LORD from the west, and his glory from the rising of the sun; for he will come like a rushing stream, which the wind of the LORD drives. "And a Redeemer will come to Zion, to those in Jacob who turn from transgression," declares the LORD. And as for me, this is my covenant with them," says the LORD: "My Spirit that is upon you, and my words that I have put in your mouth, shall not depart out of your mouth, or out of the mouth of your offspring, or out of the mouth of your children's offspring," says the LORD, "from this time forth and forevermore." Isaiah 59:14-21

Now that is quite a heavy passage. This is the love that John 3:16 talks about and is far more poetically explained in Philippians 2:6-11. Jesus came to establish a Kingdom and for that reason He came.

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.” Isaiah 9:6-7

My friends we have a God who sees and who cares. We have a God who came to destroy the works of the devil (1 John 3:8) and who will permanently crush the serpent’s head and restore righteousness (Gen 3). Righteousness is not some ethereal moral code but rather the correct order in which all things were meant to be and in accordance to the glory of God (Hab 2:7) which is all things aligned to the triune God of relational love. Christmas was for the oppressed, for the poor, for those in bondage, and for the afflicted. Christmas is for every single act of injustice that happens under the sun and the guarantee that there will be justice will be done (Rev 22:12). A Kingdom was brought to the earth through our sympathetic High Priest (Heb 4:14-16) and a day is coming when His and our Father will come and wipe every tear away (Rev 21:4).

I know that this was a tad bit lengthy but with this I wish you a merry and blessed Christmas. May the peace and love of God which go beyond comprehension encounter and guard you and your family. Take heed, justice is coming and we truly do have a good King!

A Bit of Hope

Efficiency has become the way we have defined success, using in this case the royal “we.” Granted God is by far the most efficient being in all of existence, the popular conceptions of it seem so contrary to His nature. It seems that when God said, “Let us make man in our own image!” the picture that almost appears is that of a lawyer, philosopher, and accountant standing around some blueprints attempting to hash out this newfangled monstrosity. Tireless effort thrown together ends up only in the creation rebelling and the conclave of Creator beings frustrated. Its times like this I wish my mind wasn’t cluttered with so much Gnostic and post-Freudian thought and I could actually get a better hold on beholding God. Don’t get me wrong those are not the only things to blame, we shan’t ignore the purple elephant of the fallen nature by any means but too much detachment has seemed to become the status quo and in far too many cases the golden calf.
The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit birthed all of the created order from the overflow of what they were, are, and will be which is the ineffable joyous immeasurable fountain of love. God has, for me in my upbringing, always seemed as if He were not quite sure what to do with creation. You had the angels and the demons, the elite being that really ruled over the humans; animals who the humans ruled over and were either cute or tasted good or neither; and then there were humans who were made in the image of God meaning that our physiological frame was in some way shape or form a vague comparison to His own. The Trinity was never really applied to anything with the exception of the time the word was actually used. Interchange amidst the Godhead was almost something unnecessary to divulge into or at least it was too noble a pursuit.
With such a detached view it is easy to miss the purpose of even existence. To be honest what had encompassed the years prior was more like communism than Christianity. We work and save people in order to get a pat on the back from God and when you do really well people will acknowledge what you are doing and you might get persecuted, only in the end to have the person realize how good a person you really are. If it came to it, martyrdom was always a high calling. I mean if Jesus could die a gruesome death why couldn’t we. In the end all that seemed left was just a vague picture of this huge mass singing songs for eternity on some shiny surface. Which I guess why the idea of Heaven terrified me so much, perpetual monotony never is appealing unless it is coupled with perpetual agony.
In the end all that I had been left with was the meaning of life was to worship God because He was God and that is what you did. I had heard stories of she kina type experiences and every now and then went to a service where people fell down. The height of encounter was either seeing something really cool or showing some form of emotion.
We were made for so much more. We truly were. Genesis says that we are made in the likeness of God and are to do our heavenly Father’s will. As sons and daughters our primary occupation is to be like our Father through our Brother Jesus Christ. Above all Jesus and God do not base their entire relationship around some strategy board moving people and angelic beings around but their primary occupation is being completely immersed in the love of each other and pouring that forth. At their right hand is pleasures forever more and the fullness of joy is in their presence. This mind you is the God who created music, color, monkeys, mountains, dancing, laughter, sex, relationship, human beings, the four living creatures, and everything else. The angels around His throne are not mindless drones perpetually yelling words God likes to hear but the stay due to the fact that God’s beauty far surpasses any articulation or comprehension. God does not create that which does not reflect His glory, and everything yearns for His rule and reign to be established. Rocks are capable of crying out praise and the Earth is groaning like a woman in labor waiting for God’s radiance to be unrestrained.
This is the God we worship. What a thousand sunrises cannot paint and what a thousand sonatas can articulate pales in comparison to the one who can lay the forest bare with a single blast from His nostrils. To think that we (assuming people are the only ones reading this not highly learned gorillas) were made to partake of that divine and glorious fellowship. I mean words like “glory” and “divine” have been so beaten into the ground that almost all meaning has been stripped from them. The cosmos have been stretched forth by His hand and God knows every movement of my heart. He sees when I wake up, He knows the words that come out of my mouth, He knows what moves me, He knows the sin I am going to commit minutes after I feel His presence deeply, He knows my days and orders my steps, He is coming to rule and reign, and He holds all things together with the power of His word. This is my God,
My God is love. My God is not a detached ruler of a vapid subjugation He mildly loathes. His ways are not our ways nor His thoughts our thoughts. Though our being reflects Him by nature He is not entirely like us. He is the God of communion and the God of Rest. How can one rest detached from others. He who seeks isolation seeks their own destruction. True rest is found in the deepest intimacy feeling secure in every area of your life, this is where the striving ceases.
God is so often looked at as a means to an end and He is only part of the end because that is what the contract we signed stipulates. However, He is the Beginning and the End. The cross was more than a big rubber stamp to declare “Forgiven” on our sin stained name tags but it was the unifying of all things. Jesus went to the furthest extent of pain and abandonment in order for us to enter into the divine fellowship of joy. Jesus came to redeem all and redemption is not just a mere legal standing but it is a reversal of the curse and will be fulfilled when He comes to rule and reign. This does not negate the pursuit of holiness and intimacy but spurs us forward. Jesus did not die for a quota but for a pure and spotless Bride, one in who He would not be unequally yoked to. The cry in our hearts which is a faint reflection of the one in God’s heart is one for total intimacy. There is a reason why Jesus did not say, “Go into the world and make converts,” but called the body to make disciples. We are to follow in His footsteps and not just obtain a shotgun message. In order to walk in the footsteps of Christ we need to be able to be as He is and enter into love, those who love Him are those who obey His commands.
His plan is not based on our whims or accomplishments. He is not critiquing humanity to see if they measure up to His standing. There is a reason why the meek and the poor and spirit are blessed. He is not holding His breath hoping that by some miracle we get everything right, but it is He Himself who is the one who is the Good Shepherd declaring the beginning from the end. His way is gentle and He leads with tenderness. Though He rules with resolve stronger than any iron fist He knows that we are but dust and does not see people as pawns in a game which He is locked in willing for casualties to be a flippant thing. He does not even delight in the death of the wicked but is a God that is longsuffering and came to suffer with us.
The darkness is passing and the true light is already shining. The law brings death and we are to be perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect. He allows the rain to fall on the good and the wicked, this is His perfection. Justice comes forth from His throne and is surrounded by mercy. He does not demand a rigid mechanical obedience because robots are incapable of love, which is the only commandment. We have a High Priest, we have an Intercessor, we have a Friend who was tempted in every way and learned obedience through suffering in order to sympathize (suffer) with us. This is our boldness. This is our confidence. This is our righteous: Faith in Him who loved us.

My Hundredth Blog: A Premium Weez

Well, what do you know, 100 blog entries. Yup, that is some accomplishment I guess. Shoot I am currently celebrating this momentous occasion with a heapin cup of hot cocoa and gazing into my family's gas powered fire place. The brisk tint of fall has already seeped within my veins bringing nothing but joy to my already content demeanor. On a side not I think demeanor is a pretty boring word, it has a sophisticated sound about it but I think it is only really appropriate for describing a funeral or a coroner's tune fish sandwich.
Well it has been awhile since I have done any honest blogging, a poem here, some thoughts there and that is really about it. Sad to say for the most part the little blogging community I found myself reading went the way of the dodo bird and rapcore and straight up died, its a sad day. The only possible way to avenge such an atrocity is to find five dollars, but honestly, I would need to find atleast ten. A sleek Hamilton would do the trick I mean in this day and age it oculd nearly buy you a car... we do have such a lovely economy.
So an update on life. Amidst the hustle and occasional bustle of my life I have now begun to run sound at the Justice House of Prayer. It has been really fun. I have a meager three sets a week but I try and make the most of it. Granted I am a total newbie and each day I learn that I know even less than I thought I did , I love the fact that I actually effect the sound of some worship teams. I mean it makes me happy, especially at the JPR because the teams are so fresh and have not all conduced themselves into the almost generic IHOP sound. Granted there is a mass of variation within but once you step back it is just a gigantic swirl as an entity unto its own. I mean it is such a breath of freshb air to hear a man shred in fluid 80's style mean electirc guitar, it does the heart well. Along with the pancreas. There is a small chance that I may get the position of sound cordinator over there as well, it was offered to me but I have yet to hear anything back, which is fine with me because I am busy enough as it is with schoolwork.
Now on to school. Classes have been an absolute blast. I have been blessed to dive back into my old debate roots over both of the previous modules and thank God for that lovely kiss. Our class dynamic has been something to completely cherish. Last year I was in a class of about a hundred people and only really knew about a tenh of them. My classes now have twenty people in them and we are really beginning to bond. The Nightwatch FSM as a whole has been throwing down like fiends. God has truly birthed a community with us in the nights and it is something that is forerunning things which are coming to IHOP as a whole. A prophetic spirit has been riding with us and unity has become our defining line. The spirit of unity through the bond of peace flourishes greater than the monster weeds in my back yard and let me tell you that is a wonderful thing (yet I cringe about the yardwork waiting for me when I wake up.) We are with each other almost every night of the week building deep friendships and having good times.
This past week ten of us stayed up all day and went to the Omaha zoo. Apart from the catatonic beginning and ending it was a blast, well the catatonic parts were rather gnarly as well. I mean the shennanagins started right from the beginning when all the guys were greeted in the men's restroom by Josiah saying, "There is a woman in here and she promises she will not look." I mean, classic. She was trying to get her son out who seemed pretty adamant about not leaving. We explored all sorts of terrain from the desert to the rainforest. Two of the more memorable animals were the orangutans and the gorillas. The orangutans tried their hardest to clap, snap, and frown their way into getting food from Tiffany but they did not succeed. All the while the gibbon sitting next to them just stared into space and scratched his belly. In the land of gorillas our group gathered around the protective glass to gaze upon these wild and majestic creatures. Emily locked eyes with the alpha male and he bounded over to where she was and punched the glass as hard as he could. I was daze for about ten seconds and then my entire body was consumed with fear, gorillas my friend, are powerful creatures. The trip left me longing for two things: my own kids to run wild and be filled with wonder and enthusiasm AND the millenial kingdom to come so that we may freely dwell with animals and understand them.
As fall has arrived it is time to have definitive music for the season. Each of the prior falls have had their definitive sounds. 05 had the dulcet tones of Sufjan Stevens and the Danielson Famile. 06 was strictly mewithoutYou. However, I do have a few notable mentions for this year. Currently I have been jamming to the newest release by Maylene but my favorite discovery has been that of Woven Hand. Fronted by David Eugene Edwards, grandson of a holiness rider, brings not only some heavy "alterna-country" or "goth-folk" but also the fear of the Lord. Originally known for his other band Sixteen Horsepower, this is a force to truly be reckoned with. Another band I would love to display to the one or two people who may stumble across this blog is Gogol Bordello. Their frontman is the lead character in the movie Everything is Illuminated, which was a great film..... bearing in mind that the end is always sad when Christ is not involved.
So that is all for now. It has been a wild ride on this blog, let me tell ya. In a while I shall get back to throwing down theological heaviness, but until be blessed in Christ's name.

Grave Robber

High noon burns the sweat soaked eyes
Dusty brows litter the anxious street
Words are hushed where sleeping dogs lie
All silent when the drunk judge takes his seat
The convict comes down the aisle lookers in tow
Lays down his six shooters the loaded twelve
Peacemakers unsheather that the people didn't know
The Sons of God do not live on shelves

Lawyer started yelling as the preacher was preachin'
Mouthed closed as he took on the hell fire blaze
Bordellos and bars and other places he be teachin'
With a tongue like Bowie's knife the words never a haze
The jury was rigged he had each one hung
Human nature was the gamble for years been set up
The hearts of men wanting holy necks wrung
Plotting his fate with backwash in a bitter cup

Preacher smirks donning hangman's mask
Noose in hand points to the old oak tree
The oak never had any questions to ask
"Cursedbe the man who hangs from me!"
He steps forward to the executioner's laugh
Putting it on like a jewelled necklace
Smeeling in the distance the burning of chaff
Passion burned in the stone set face

Blackness surrounds the roaring fist
Recompense of the piper's receipt
Eternity hosts this flagrant mist
Death shrieked with the given release
Burning eyes with the heavy axe
Hand to handle waylaying the crushing blow
Violence fills the remorseless attack
The Hangin' tree falls with no seed to sow

Grave Robber
Hear the jingle jangle of his keys
Grave Robber
Shatterin' the proud man's kness
Grave Robber
Best do what he said
Grave Robber
Comin' to judge the quick and th' dead

Her touch was softer than usual tonight. Her cheek pressed against mine as her smile met my face. It had been a while since I had seen her but those green eyes are never easy to forget. She came out of nowhere for what seemed no apparent reason except o share this moment right now. A rendezvous with the mundane abruptly came to an end as the scent of her perfume floated my way, cinnamon and roses. Time and time again had we met, each time more appropriate than the one prior. Everything around us seemed to fade for just a moment. All that was left were the gray clouds above and the incoming mist. Hearts held in unison as her voice began to caress my ears. Each syllable dripped with honey and her breath smelled like sweet incense. Here we stood at the street corner exchanging sweet nothings into each other with our embrace locked within this suspension of time. I could feel her lips move against my cheek and my heart began to move faster and faster palpitating an opus with the speed of a freight train. Minutes passed like hours as we stood on that corner, it seemed the entire world passed by in that brief moment, nothing worth concerning ourselves with. We had each other. As soon as it began the moment ended. Words were never uttered as our eyes remained locked in repose. With a wink she vanished into the crowd knowing that our next reunion will be even more intimate. A tear of bittersweet joy ran down my cheek as my heart began to grown. She needed to go as did I but the parting had never been easy. I go my way and she goes her own as she continues to cry out in the street.

What You Talkin' About Willis?

To err in ones own mind draws too many fleeting glances from his own heart. The towers of men and empires of humanity are nothing more than flimsy cardboard providing shelter for the wealthy who perpetually feel homeless. The same log that burns in their fireplace is from the tree that holds years of memiores inscribed in noble thought. The fantasy of a broken creature remains fractured like its creator. Links are always missing like the Emperor's new clothes and he who sees is hanged from the noose of Lady Goodiva. He who is begets and that which has come is indeed begotten, yet only one came from the Father. Mistakes of the ages plot out a roas map for the astute to follow. Blind lead the blind but there is one who searches the deep things of the heart, which is deceitful above all things. Good intentions have led to an ocean floor covered with millstones and their partners. He who searches man searches the deep things of God and continues to flow in creativity even after the sixth day. Mountains of ambiguity get laid bare from the nostrils of He who declares the beginning from the end and all that remains is the mountain of perfection. It is He who loved us to the end which beckons all to meet it's looming presence. Rain falls on the righteous and the wicked all the while roads are being carved up the mountain scented like clusters of myrhh. Tunnels are broken open by the heart of John Henry while the peak towers above the plain of delusion. The darkness ever darker and the light becoming rare, flickers of sapphire warm those who have pursued the truth. The end is coming and the days are drawing shorter, these days are evil. Oh what glory waits for the few is but a flicker as a hush directs us to the myriad singing Handel's Messiah.

Exhibit Hall

Flourescent lighting has become what I see when I close my eyes. The dull hum illuminating what seems to be empty halls. Once looking like a pristine museum has succumbed to the monotony of the custodian who resided there. Pictures have faded and sculptures were left cracked. Yet day in and day out the floors are swept and the brass fixtures are polished to reflective brilliance. At night the routine is once again done and then come morning is left ready for a whole new chorus of messes and smudges. Yet day in and day out with little recognition he does his job. Always with a smile with eyes concealing an aura of euphoric glow. If you still your self for long enough you can even hear him whistling. Few wander into his closet and are merely content with his nightly doings. Inside the thick mahoghany door lie a world beyond recognition; one of murals, sketches, and sculptures reflecting vivid color and life. With each stroke and curve beauty is immortalized. Few have seen and few have asked, and he longs to let the beauty be held.

The Raggamuffin Silhouette

Broken streaks once again flood the face of the vessel trying once again to serve a purpose. Inclination of the former years dwindle in hindsight yet a vacant light at the end of the tunnel seem to spur life to bloom once again. The broken shards litter the ground like a poorly made mosaic coloring the black asphalt with chipped shades of copper. Angels hum above breaking the silence, Handel’s Messiah in brief synopsis energizing the air hat blows in and out of the cracks that seemed to have marked our subject in the onslaught of fluid thought encircling the dreams that the jar once held. Awakening once again to a new dawn spliced by rain clouds and rainbows the permeation of the translucent colors embody the warmth that heaven sees. The skies open and heaven’s tears begin to pour. Each one collected in the vase that stands as a silhouette in the vacant landscape. The ground is saturated with new life and flowers spring out from under the pavement. A trickle is contained within the vessel as a voice from heaven says, “Well done!”

The Workers Are Going Home

Summer is coming to a quick and rapid close. It is interesting, it is ending on a note which I honestly never saw coming. Amidst the busines of the base and other things it seems as if myself and the gang are to a degree parting ways yet going the same direction. Seasons change and so do atmospheres. I am pretty enthused for this school year yet am left pondering if this is all there is for me. Granted for awhile my thoughts were tied down here strictly because of the community I am at the point of wondering if this is actually what I want to do with the rest of my life. I have no technical skills and musically am hitting nothing but walls. A couple times a week I even toy with the idea of running off to law school, I mean I am only twenty. Granted regardless of what I will be doing I will be keeping a life in prayer and pursuing God, but is this all there is for me. I hold firm to the prophecies and I beleive that we are in fact living in a sovreign time of history yet I feel as if I am just merely floating. Everything that once drove me seems to have fallen through the cracks of selfish ambition or even futility. As of recent I have been given words about asking for the desires of my heart, I haven't the slightest clue of what they are. I mean other than the normal ones like know God, fall in love, and actually walk in a calling. I will know more and more of God as the days pass, I am not really attracted to anyone at all now, nor do I have any idea of what I want to do with my life. I know I need to grow up and that is currently the one thing I am working on, doing miserably but working on. I mean I live at home with my family, have most of my needs met, and have really never held any responsibilty. I mean God has me where I am for a reason, that is something I cannot refute. I am at a place where I want something to run for. I have come to a place where I don't just want to follow another man's vision but carve out my own. On the plus side I am enjoying school, my heart hurts resoundingly less, hope is blossomming, and I am beginning to have more peace than I have felt in a very long time. I know next month holds many good things, I don't know what they are but its a promise I have been clinging to for about a year now. On another note I miss a lot of the music I used to listen to, specificly Weezer and Ben Folds. If you think of it throw up a quick prayer for their salvation. Thatis all there is from here. Sham on.

A Tux Would Be Nice

Imagination brings me to speak
Of things I could be for a week
To get this weighty issue off my chest
I think to be a penguin would be best
Waddling around the land of ice and snow
With puffy feathers that look like a fro
Eating fish and playing penguin games
Making penguin friends and confusing their names
Like Biff, Dexter, Fran, and Gus
Cornelius, Cindy, Charlotte and Russ
In the morning we'll dance until noon
Getting down to the Sea Lion's croon
We'd then hussle to pick up the slack
By getting rides on a Narwhal's back
He would sing us a song and we would sing along
Aquatic melody for the price of a few prawn
Then we would fish with all of our penguin chums
Tasty food that would be eaten though we lack gums
Scampering and frollocking and diving off cliffs
Exploring on icebergs with waves like guitar riffs
For a week this snowy utopia would be a magical delight
Any more could very possibly be a terrible fright


*This ditty is dedicated to global warming and the charming documentaries it inspires

It's Now Monday

So it has been nearly an eternity in which I have blogged something other than memorable points of my all too fabulous life or a lamentable solliloqui for the workings of God in the inner man. So with the crashing dawn of this school year and epiphany of an August I figured I would throw down something of merit. At the behest of Kristine, the Vinyardy Mansionite, I will briefly discuss the Bridegroom in a more guy friendly context.
When every guy ponders what they want, it is obvious. I mean clearly what grips at the heart at every testosterone laden male is the thought of being swept off of his feet and then married in an elaborate ceremony in which he gets lost in his husband's eyes. So yeah, that was sarcastic, I feel it necessary to point that out because of the several times my sarcasm has been taken serious due to the utter lack of fluctuation techniques for type without completely throwing off the reader. Instead I would rather have an excessively long explanation which at the end completely diverts any and all attention away from the original point.
Well that was a waste wasn't it, but a pretty waste..... So okay. I think the hinge pin for a guy to fall in love with the concept of Jesus as a bridegroom is summed up pretty well by Solomon in Proverbs 6:34, "for jealousy arouses a husband's fury, and he will show no mercy when he takes revenge." I heard it put this way, the return of Jesus is easily related to the following situation: Supppose a man's wife or significant other was severely beaten and raped. At the hospital he runs into the one who did it to her waiting to do it again. He in turn has all hell released on himself by the furious husband.
This is the very context for all judgment. God is not some being up in heaven pissed off yearning for the day he can give those jerks on earth their due. It is the lovesick bridegroom who is coming out of Edom clothed in crimson (Is 63) in order to avenge His bride. The very breaking point in Revelation 22:17 "The Spirit and the bride say, "Come!" It is the very lovesick groan which incurs the vindication of all mankind. Also God feels the way for His bride very much like a physical man feels towards his own bride.
That is all I really have to post right now. Enjoy this tidbit, I hope to be soon getting back to actually tackling more endearing subjects. God Bless!

Exhileration filled every nerve in my body. With a simple syllable everything in the room began to slow down and an existential bliss carried me away. One of the most hallowed four lettered words was uttered and I was indeed left speechless. Nothing in me could deny the excitement, somebody tonight had mentioned "Pogs." They were unleashed and my opponent and I were lost in the glory that became the small disks that belong to Kevin Samuel. The game commenced and times of past fame and joy spin beyond my eyes. Before I knew it I had lost. It was close but the defeat still was bitter. Tonight Tiffany Upton beat me in pogs.

It's Been Awhile

I am happy. Frankly, that is more or less the crux of all I have to say. School started this week which honestly, I was not at all enthused about. Yet my first class has been blowing my mind. This is not in the sense of hearing an amazing sermon or trembling conviction, but it actually feels like a class. For the first time in my FSM career I actually feel like I am in school. The funny thing is that I am a terrible student but I love doing schoolwork, stretching my mind, and being in a place which I can actually engage in some sort of study since I really tend to lack the discipline to do it on my own. I am currently taking Hermeneutics with Karen Schweppler. Not only is it a good class but as supposed to there being a hundred students taking it there are only about twenty. On top of that most of them are my Nightwatch and PR team family. This week we had a debate and my team got the privilege to be the devil’s advocate on the side of universalism. We totally dominated. For the first time I got to throw down with my debate skills in both argument and research. That is one of the few places I actually feel alive if that makes any sense, a smile was definitely left on my face.
On Tuesday my family went out to eat o commemorate the beginning of yet another illustrious school year. At that dinner I receive my new favorite toy, a quacking duck puppet that instead of wings has arms making him look like a retarded frog. It is amazing. As of tonight he will ride in my trunk in order to spread good cheer wherever it may be needed. So far he is the second thing Kacie will get when I die after the Koala lamp. And you can never pass up an opportunity to have some one like Darin Damme shout at full volume outside the prayer room, “SHUT THE DUCK UP!” and then take a second to realize what he just yelled. I have yet to give a name, I will gladly take suggestions.
On top of all of those amazing developments I have to give praise and glory to God and His merciful humility and glorious presence. Last night something hit in the prayer room and the Spirit fell. Amidst a room singing in the Spirit and groaning being called forth I was thrown onto my face. I don’t like talking about my spiritual life/growth/interaction/way I pray but something last night to me to a whole other level I had never been before. I entered into deep intercession, it was great. I don’t understand all that happened but by the end I had tapped into a realm I never had and God pretty much explained what I had been going through for the past year and tied up a lot of loose ends. I left the prayer room giddy as can be and am still feeling a buzz.
That is really all there is to report on. I am currently eating overstuffed pizza rolls and typing on my living room floor and hear bed calling. I wish I was at he PR because from what I have gathered the Thurs 4-6 sets get on the holier side of buckwild. But I am happy pretty much with everything I am at now. It has been a while since I could say that and I am glad this time has come. Tomorrow I have a forest of weeds waiting for me along with some work on my car. Its been a very Shpadoinkle (just think of the amazingnees that word could imply and multiply it by infinite) week.

Again to the Ramblings

So it has come time again to throw down a decent blog. Today has been a perfect cap to a good week. A couple of hours ago I was doing 70 down 71 with the steering wheel in one hand and a QT cup in the other which I was yakking into. So okay, that was by no means a tasteful way to start off a blog, but hey, the experience was one of those things which left me going, “Huh! This is actually happening. Craziness!” I got a lot on my plate as of now. School starts tomorrow, something I have honestly given little thought to but am fairly excited to see how things turn out.
On top of that I am now an up and coming potentially competant sound guy at the JPR. Other than the fact I completely screwed everything up for the morning people on Thursday that has been going well. It is good to actually be involved in something and serve. I really do like the JPR. It has a stripped down grass roots feel. It is a room which is by no means flashy and for the most part completely empty, I love it, I truly do. I enjoy being part of something that actually seems groundbreaking and being somewhat useful, I mean unlike pretty much all my friends who are either musicians or tech people I have been feeling pretty dang useless. Though it is not much I am pretty pumped.
As of tonight I have more or less been given a pink slip from my paper route. The downside is no money. However, this does free me up to be in the prayer room and actually get support raising help which I desperately need. The guy I run it with, Matt, has a friend, Joe, who just moved down here to escape a life of drugs, depression, and the whole nine yards. The friend is more or less taking my place which I am somewhat bummed about but it by no means kills the joy I get from seeing Joe actually come to discover true Life.
I have nothing of theological importance to say. I toyed with writing an entire entry referencing either Sufjan or Flogging Molly but frankly don’t have it in me. I miss listening to Flogging Molly. Drunken Lullabies in my opinion is the most sing-a-longable CDs next to Weezer’s Blue album. Both of those bands need to get saved, that would make me happy. I am weary and am still in my fairly crumbled state and do appreciate those who have been praying for me. It bums me out that I haven’t been able to hang with a handful of people lately but I am happy to finally to get a workable schedule. Things look up. I’m doing on the better side of decent and God is good. Yay.

A Meager Blog by a Meager Man

Today I woke up and in the midst of the resetting of my alarms on my cell phone I actually missed a call. After stumbling out of bed I mowed 93% of my yard until I ran out of gas and then took the ugly stick to the rest. I rocked out with Danny Hibberd at the Uptown tonight, it was a good solid four hours of non-stop head pounding magic. My hearing may recouperate in a day or two. I did my route while jamming to Rosie Thomas because I needed soft feminine folk to contain the bar-be-que flavored testosterone then leaking out of my every pore. The route finished and I gave away spare papers. And the I found five dollars. (Under the driverside seat in my car, seriously).

It was a good day.

This One Goes out to the One I Love

This one goes out to the one I left behind. A simple thought to occupy my mind, this one goes out to the one I love. Fire. Overwhelmed by presuppositions the transition of an elemental situation fans the flame of nothing that seems in the slightest bit tangible but leaves the senses on the fritz. Singled out by a wanton lust for the tangible the tears that have soaked into various fabrics have intermingled with a stillness that flirts with the line dividing solace and imagination. Light and darkness being seprate night will soon be no more. He saw and the grand scoope of things falls into retrospect amidst a sea of twenty something peddling poppy rebellion to teeangers. Sure they have been to the lands of violence and seen the inhumanity of the third world and champion for change and the result we get are masses of children screaming at their parents demanding liberty to actual bring "real" change. The messenger has fallen flat on their face amidst the sea of spin doctors and bs-artists. Hope has become nothing more than a dwindling fashion as the pinnacle has sunken into a warm fuzzy nostalgia we all get from my little pony. Years passed and she was only turned into glue and forgotten in the glitter soaked contruction paper that hangs on a proud mother's fridge. The lines are smudged and the heart is clearly portrayed but one is left asking, "But, is it art?" The fumbled attempts of the preschooler I feel are almost as moving as some of the sixteenth century works of art. That and with that I am not left asking "What the obsession was with male genitalia?" and "Shouldn't Jesus be treated with more dignity?" Hoping one day to be Bohemian like you but left wondering what drove the obsession of people to market that which is holy. The stars are out tonight intermingled with drifting clouds that will either disappear or bring life to dry soil. They move eloquently to the sound of the voice who holds all things together. Behind the voice is a groan for justice being held patiently until the fullness of all things comes. In the meantime absence is pursued to escape that which confuses and the home for the humble is the ground we walk. AS empires are brought low He will build from the ground up. David Crowder in the distance sings the contents of his heart joining with the masses and even our beloved Sufjan and one wonders where the divine hand is. It always seems so easy to pick it out on the grand scale than that of the day to day but it is good and it is never sleeping. Angels continue in hallelujah choruses and one day the veil will be torn. Be still and know until then I supposed. Live for the days you can almost taste the fire poruing out of your mouth while ligaments begin to form on dry bones. This is the one thing that I know. Standing forever in a bleak absolution will wither into vanity and despair. Seek the Lord when He can be found, and when your timing is off remember He has never deserted you.

Welcome to August

So I figured that it was about time I blogged again. I am spaced out completely so this will most likely be utterly incoherent but here goes. The past few weeks have been a great rollercoaster of emotions. I mean shoot, I never signed up for any of this but what the hey, God is good and He hates letting us stay in the places we are. I am deeply appreciative of my family and friends who have been a blessing and always have been. It seems most of my life in the past year has been nothing more than me crashing again and again and again. There seems to never be an end only a few short breathers. We all come to a place where we realize that we cannot get what we truly want from people. Once you hit that it is as if oblivion opens up and a million questions shoot out of the ground only to disappear into thin air. God is good.
So often we fail to actually trust God to be good. Well often, we limit it to our definition of good which is nothing more than an overused, unexciting, above par term. He truly does have excellence and splendor to bestow upon His people and He truly does reward those who diligently seek Him. It’s odd, we are far too often prone to see the recompense of God to come in terms of our sinning and neglect that which He has promised to bless. We are justified through our faith. This is by no means is limited to atonement, yet it is clearly part of it, but it refers to the reward of everything we have sown. In His mercy He blots out sin and loves to reward righteousness and faithfulness. In the little things no one knows or no one seems to care He has great reward both on this side and the next for us. I for the longest time was a critic of the whole reward message thinking it only prodded people on in a more spiritual version of the American dream. One can look at a message time and time again and then forget and seem to apply it whenever they choose but it stands true forever.
For the past few months I have been driven by some of my dad’s last words. A few days before he passed away he looked at my mom and said, “All that matters is obedience.” That was followed by a deep sigh and a “Jesus you are so good.” He obeyed all he was led to do, in prayer, in petition, and in taking authority. At the end of the day with no results that is where he stood. It really does sadden me that most of my memories of him are fading with age but in time of crisis, semi – crisis, chaos, it is a phenomenal thing to look back on and be grateful.
Life moves on and God never changes. On another note I enjoy the route I have been running. I am psyched because tomorrow I am hanging out with my buddy Matt Johnson and his friend Joe who just moved down here. We are going to indulge ourselves in one of the greatest movies of all time, Kung Pow: Enter the Fist. And by greatest I mean possibly one of the dumbest but oddly enough I find it more quotable than Wayne’s World and the Grail. Granted the quotes are not that meaningful I mean to call it meaningful would be absurd, even more so than the electoral process. But it does have a place in my heart. Tonight I found out that God gave me a gift, I ush well, I ush very well. I got to put my ushing skills to the test while I was an usher tonight. Granted the testing was not hard but I like to believe I passed with flying colors, I mean my shirt even had yellow in it. So I look at the time and am mildly befuddled why I am not in bed and am writing I personally blame Darin Damme who not once but twice played “Lose Yourself” by Eminem on stage tonight on his bass guitars. Then again I would think just having that occur would solidly usher me off into a dreamy place of euphoric contentment. So that is all from here really. God bless.

Yes, Jesus Loves Me

So on Friday night I had the great honor of losing my 2nd wallet in a month thanks to it falling out of my van due to the paper route. Though there was not much money in it I still lost my liscense and some dignity shoot, I mean thats like two friggin wallets. So tonight, liscencseless I had to go to my buddy Matt Johnson's house in order to drop off a paper needed for the route we share. So I totally space oun and gun thru the stop sign at Grandview and Truman. All of a sudden sirens blare and lights flash. I got pulled over. I freak and well start praying like a madman. There were three infractions I had going for them and one is fairly monumental. After about ten minutes of very flustering and tense conversation I get let off. Jesus loves me. His mercy endures forever and He is good. Yay, Jesus.

A Very Bloggable Day

The proceeding blog is being brought to you to with a life changing opportunity. In light of the very appropriate song “Today” by the Smashing Pumpkins I invite you to take a few moments and pray for their salvation before continuing in your reading. Thank you!


…Amen.

Today was the greatest day I’ve ever known. Well not really, but it has been exceptionally amazing and if only you could see the exuberance bursting forth out of my drowsy greenish-somethingish (*whatever color my eyes) eyes then you might be compelled to sing the afore mentioned song if not mildly hum the tune.

I woke up this morning to the lament of my little brother. Our house is currently getting painted and he has deep reaching emotions about the current outlook of the house. Instead of being a faded brownish eye sore we decided to spice it up a bit. In the see of fading pastel homes in our neighborhood we are taking the leap to transition into bright white with a sky blue trim. Okay, maybe “spice” was a wrong term since those colors are far more soothing than spicy, more of a reggae if you will but not a salsa. All that said my brother’s complaint stands as this, “It looks like a Long John Silvers©!” The funny thing is that now it kind of done, I chuckled heartily and then journeyed on.

The thankfulness that your house does not smell like old shrimp and old grease is enough it seems to brighten anyone’s day, but the day was far from over. I picked up the first payment from my paper route and was slightly ruffled at the fact that I was mildly short changed. Yet I decided not to let me down so I voyaged over the poorly paved Kansas City roads to Higher Grounds in which I got myself a drink and then moseyed back to the road. As I was driving a flock of geese walked out into the middle of the road. All of them fled except for one. He just stood in the middle of Red Bridge road as happy as can be. For a good minute and a half we were at a stand still, luckily no one was behind us or his honking may have been accompanied by others. He finally moved and clapped his feathers good bye, what a silly goose!

Ten O’clock came around and I decided to make my way to the prayer room. This was the first night I worked my paper route alone so I decided to get some dearly needed Jesus time in. On my way inside I was met by a fully loaded Justin Fry. Justin is a guy who I did the internship with and a stellar man of God. Hands down, he is one of the most chill people I know. We made plans to reconnect tomorrow night and I plunged right into the praising of my Lord. Corey Asbury was leading tonight and I was surprised. I had not actually heard him in a good solid year or two but was never a fan. It could have been his once slightly to very emo hair and it could be my subtle disdain for Jack Johnson. (Before you write me off as a friend mind you I must say that at times Jack Johnson’s music is the perfect groove but not at all times for all things, as when my friend Paul played during my internship.) Commentary aside, it was the greatest set I had been to in the longest time. His bassist is phenomenal and the team hit a solid groove and worshiped and prophesied it through the singing and dancing of the saints. It had been a while since I freely bounced around in the presence of God and let me tell you, I was hurtin’ mighty bad for some. I made my way up front where the One Thing interns had congregated along with Ben Tolston. On a side note, Ben Tolston is an amazing guy. I mean with one quick glance in his direction the air just parts and all you can do is just nod in affirmation knowing all is well with the universe. I would gladly take a bullet anywhere for that guy; to the grocers, the circus, or even maybe the moon. To sum up everything in this paragraph I will end it with this: God is good and it is amazing and so great to worship him.

1:30 rolled around and I needed to saddle up for work. It was a dark night as most nights are and the sun was far from shining its happy face. I arrived at the warehouse and picked up my papers and then made my way to the roll and bag my precious cargo at my usual spot Jackson County Water. The bags I used tonight were incredibly small which made it a hassle to fit the papers in, but duty called. I listened to the books of 1-2 Timothy, Titus, Philemon, and Hebrews on a cassette tape tonight as I rolled. Up until Hebrews the one who read the Word was like an announcer entirely detached it seemed from what he was reading. I got to Hebrews and the reader switched to an almost pastoral sounding voice which made it a lot easier to receive. Hebrews is a good book, and I thank God that we have such a great high priest in heaven. Oh, the mercy of God and the passion of the Trinity. It truly surpasses anything of feasible comprehension.
Between the frustration of the bags and the reading of the Word the night was fairly evened out at that point. Rolling papers leaves you with two things. First there is the ridiculous amount of newsprint which get on your hands and is terrible for your skin. Secondly your forearms get a mad workout, the intensity grows with the amount of frustration. I mean that spinach thing with Popeye is most likely a hoax. I have been eating it a ton recently and so far no bulging forearms. Then again I haven’t been eating the canned stuff just the leafy kind found in large plastic bins which apparently everyone and their mom has. And by that I mean at least two of my friends who most likely will be moms one day.

Four hit and I had finally finished. My CDs had become buried in the vast ocean of Kansas City Stars so I was left with whatever was left in my CD player. Within ten minutes I began to laugh at the music playing knowing that I would not be able to or want to change the music at all. It was Paper Religion by Derek Loux. The irony clowns were smiling upon me tonight. Today was the first day I had actually listened to the entire CD, let alone more than three songs. I was thoroughly impressed with it. I remember during my orientation for FSM a very commanding mustachioed kiwi announced Derek Loux as IHOP’s answer to Rod Stewart. In response Derek came up covering his hair in shame. After tonight I feel that accusation was wrong. Though his hair may be reminiscent of the man who’s career was based on him desperately asking people if they thought he was sexy his music isn’t. Derek Loux is not the answer to Rod Stewart but to Phil Collins. Listening to his music took me back to the summer when Tarzan the animated movie came out. This also was the summer of Eiffel 65 and their album Europop which I sadly confess to enjoy. Guilty pleasures aside, the night went well. I finished an hour ahead of my guestimate, briefly chatted with Kristine, handed out leftover papers at IHOP, and then paid off dollar twenty debt at Holtz’s donuts.

Before coming home I swung by Wendy’s to try for once their breakfast items. I purchased some chicken biscuits only to have my socks blown off. The chicken used is pretty much a huge one of their nuggets which are phenomenal which amply make up for their slightly wanting buttery counterparts. I left the drive through content and satisfied. As I waiting to get onto 58 to head home I looked to my left and at the farm next to me a llama was staring very intently at me. The sun was rising above the Raymore water tower behind him and the llama, whose name must have been Julian, just stood there majestically chewing his meal letting the sun shine off of his sleek brown coat. It’s times like that which nothing needs to be done except for a mild sigh of contentment. Today was a marvelous day.

An Apologetic + A Rebuttal = A Blog Entry

Due to the title and content of the previous post I am pretty sure anyone who read it was left with shock, offense, and possibly speechless. I feel that in light of the gnawing of my own conscience that I need to revisit the words typed and explain myself and add upon what was said and just blog like a fiend. So here goes nothing:
We all come to a place in which we are overwhelmed with our own pain. It seems that more often than not our journey through the Valley of the Shadow of Death is to make an appointment with an old friend. As most encounters with this person you begin with a cringe in your stomach and then a swift blow to your face leaving you disoriented. A battle ensues until for the first time in which seems an eternity there is a slight pause. Though it is brief you can make out the one you have been entangled with and it turns out to be none other than yourself.
Well as fine and dandy as that is, there is a funny thing about suffering. It’s not “haha” funny but more so “this milk shouldn’t be green” funny. At this place most of us good ol’ westerners see that and only that. One can hear stories about pain, see tragedy face to face and at the end of the day all that remains on the top of your mind is that dull or stinging throb. Entropy is a natural thing. The world is falling apart and society regardless of what argument you will take is going to get worse.
The most common answer to said problems is that of escape. Often found in sarcasm, comparison, and addictions we may take escape wherever we please. Yet time and time again we yearn to hit that sweet spot and dwell there and scurry around looking for hope. We are built with an innate sense that what we live in is by know means the pinnacle of what we were made for. So in the meantime throngs of people lie in wait for that sense of hope, misery loves company and remedies grope into the realm of fantasy.
When it comes to suffering there are two ways to go about it. One is taking up your cross and following Christ and the other is picking up a noose. Apart from Christ suffering ever increases into the screaming void of oblivion. Christ did not die for the sake of dying. Nor does He beckon anyone into it for the sheer sake of feeling pain. He is the resurrection and the life. He tears so that He may heal. It ios what His very word declares. I know for my self that this all to often comes as rhetoric and things that apply in every situation except for the one I am in.
Allow me to regress. Into what I am not completely sure, I just really felt compelled to start out a new paragraph like that. In all honesty I have had a rough couple of days, week, season if you will. Honestly in the wake of tragedy, loss, and the sometimes baffling leadership of God one can get completely off. I mean what is often set out to bring some sort of progress becomes nothing more than a flaking sage misquoting the strains of his ever palpitating heart. I admit I hit a new low today. I found a CD that was left in my car and enjoyed the snot out of it. I’m not gonna mention the band name but for the most part it was northing more than a angry and heartbroken proletariat espousing on the futility of his existence. The most many people come, not generally Christians, to addressing God with a situation is to either ask Him to curse it or just blame Him. Of all the prayers most people know, next to the blessing after a sneeze, is that of profanity.
Life happens. I honestly sit here enjoying the roller coaster of what seems spiritual bi-polarity, today joy. I mean things do actually look up but allow me to give a brief synopsis of where I am at. For a good while I had been investing in something which honestly will in no means end from what I see in that which my heart has been set. Thru the course of this I have encountered for the most part my most lingering demons. As many know there is a standstill where the sting is felt and the outcome is nothing more than that of an obscure blur, I concur. It is the human condition. Jesus doesn’t change us with a snazzy transmogrifying device but He is a surgeon, patient and gentle and often without heavy anesthetics. The funny thing with our problems is that we can receive no correction from anyone but Him. Contrary to everything within, He satisfies the desires of all things. I don’t get it at all, but its what the Word says and even that great Shane and Shane song..
Life moves one and the end is yet to come. Variables are the only things that ever seem certain but He is the resurrection. I honestly don’t know what this assimilation of various conjecture adds to, but He did not stay in the grave. He did not stay in the grave. Neither will His people.

"God, Damn It!" and Other Misconstrued Prayers

Her eyes never failed. She didn’t need corrective surgery nor did she need glasses or contacts. There was no color blindness involved or any confusion to the matter. Just six years old and she could identify the blood on the wall along with the weeping in the other room. Both belonged to her mother. She would say that there was something different about the night but the routine was still the same. Her father came home piss drunk and beat the crap out of her mother. The cycle continues until she is punching bag material and her hat gets thrown into the ring.
Here comes the question, why, why in any good, decent, or even reasonable world would this happen. I mean anyone who tries to methodically give an explanation might as well come off as a world class prick at the sight of her scars and two aborted children. I mean what a douche, who would over look the great pain that was afflicted and nonchalantly write it off. I mean she should get whatever she wants just to make up for the travesty. She lives her life bitter and sullen and then dies. As a tear filled eulogy is given she is being tormented in the bowels of hell.
I mean I should cut right there and sell this scene to Hallmark. Or at least CBS could make a made for TV movie staring Judy Dench as the mother. I cringe at writing this but honestly none of this should be taken lightly at all. Yet the scenario happens time and time again that after a hint of another occurrence the halls of decency cry out, “How can this happen?” and “Where is God?” As a white middle class American male who was raised in a fairly healthy home I honestly have no say whatsoever in this matter. I have no place to relate or even imagine the pain which was inflicted. Nor do I know how I would even react to such a situation.
Days pass and the question continues to thrive. God is good right? I know my own pain and am currently blocking out everything I feel that is screaming torment within me right now. I mean hell, it sucks. But it by no means is a comparison to the mass tragedy that takes place mere blocks away.
In the last days we will se visions more vivid than sunsets, brighter than stars and we will recognize each other and see ourselves for who we truly are. When all is said and done we are wicked in nature and violence begets violence. Innocence is all too often raped away and the cycle continues as most cycles do.
He sees and He judges. There is a day appointed for wrath. I speak of this as if I understand it with any clarity. I mean honestly in my own time I tragically stare at happiness which seems constantly held at arms length from me. I mean it’s how most often feel. Nothing ever makes up for that which is incomplete. I mean shoot, I just compared my problems to someone who was abused, beaten, and raped. I might as well be playing the Rolling Stones Sympathy for the Devil at full volume now.
Logic in the end will fall short. All remains in faith. This is the substance of things hoped for. Substance being something that actually exists and is to a degree tangible and hope is that which is known for certain. I mean I write this with scrutiny firing off in my own head. I honestly demand inside a grasp on every situation in its entirety. My current mood is torn between singing praises and screaming profanity. Its how the cookie crumbles I guess.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and he will make your paths straight. I could make arguments up and down. I could expound on how suffering correlates between our capacity to feel love and through it we enter into a deeper communion with the Almighty. I believe that, I mean it is the flicker that shoots off in my head when the ache blows into a migraine but what precedent do I have in saying any of it. We gaze now at a mirror that is dim and more so contorts what is seen instead of bringing total clarity. As we move on clarity begins to unfold brighter than a meadow full of sunflowers. I would have lost hope unless I had not believed I would see the goodness of God in the land of the living.
The sun right now is coming up and the couple in front of me is enjoying a hearty breakfast with a side of menthols. The green car directly in front of this restaurant is missing a window and has been replaced by several layers or poorly translucent tape. The waitress continues her days as more fleeting conversations come in and out of the now brother franchise of Applebees. Well amidst the contorted babble and useless jargon preceding this almost pointless and obligatory sentence I have this to say, the movement of the earth and the progression of time is more often ignored than perceived and truth is more often forgotten than sought or even retained. The sun is coming up on the sub-ghetto Truman Corners and the fading paint on the once prominent establishments will fade to yet another shade lighter. In liturgy, litigiousness, jargon, rhetoric, and all around BS we have lost security in everything. One word stands true in the heavens; that is the Word of God. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if everything were meaningless. But everything is so meaningful, and everything turns to crap. Rejoice. Entropy is inherent and there is life only in one man, Jesus Christ.

One of My Current Favorite Songs

This is a song by Lenny Smith. He wrote several hymns and worship songs way back in the seventies including "Our God Reigns." Other than that he is the father of Daniel Smith who is the frontman of the Danielson Famile a band consisting of himself, his siblings and some close friends. Daniel is also responsible for introducing the world to the magnificent Sufjan Stevens. Here it is, God bless.

Quito

As goes on there seems to be a heavy dividing line in the arena of sophomoric humor. I mean who ever thought the day would come that I would cringe at the word, “Schwing!” Truly a new era has dawned. I bow my head in confusion, nostalgia, and almost disbelief. Thus is the way it goes with being renewed and growing up.
Today was an odd day. Often I have only a few options and today I had even more. Something hit me and I decided to slink away into retrospection, never a good place for me. A Mountain Goats mix and a black and mild cream (huge mistake) later I made my way towards the Justice Prayer Room. There were three others in the crowd, a sound tech and the team. It was stripped down and raw. No flashy lights, no cameras, just a few people doing there thing contending for the kingdom and loving God. I enjoyed it. About half way thru the set Dave Sliker kicked Josh Forrey off of the drums and totally mellowed out the solid groove that was going on. It wasn’t bad but I mean, you have got to love a drummer whose main influences are that of the prestigious hardcore bands of the day.
I have done a lot of searching, thinking, smarting off, jamming to tunes, and questioning without getting answers to wind up at the same place…. the place of prayer. True this is the guy who could not even make it thru half of Fire Within or even feels entirely gung ho with the current movement in which I am a part of, but I know that the place of prayer and intercession is the only place I can really find solace these days. People come and go, some linger and others merely drift. The same goes with ideas. But God will never change, He is the same yesterday today and forevermore.
In regards to prayer, it is ridiculous to know that God actually hears every prayer and does in fact have deep compassion for the seemingly weak words thrown up into what sometimes seems to be mere oblivion. I mean if you could only imagine the things I have asked for, concerns and other such whatnot I mean I would seem either crazy, mental or devoted. If you continue to hit your head against a wall long enough you will begin to ignore the deepening wound and become more intrigued about the rhythm and get lost in wondering how your head can make a sound like a coconut.
I honestly type this hoping for something profound to protrude from these dashing metacarpals of mine but will most likely meander for a wee bit before coming into rest. Being familiar with the works of Pablo Neruda my soul seems to be doing decent, I mean but laughter has never been a biblical standard for anything. I use it in terms of Guffaws, Chuckles, Chortles, and even on occasion Snickers but the higher ups have yet to set a precedent. I appreciate the family that is coming around me, I mean the prayer room team has a definite chunk of real estate in my heart, some more than others but we’ll see how things go as time progresses. It’s like they all have a manifest destiny for my love, I dig it.
As I listen to Lenny Smith right now I wonder if good music will ever be implemented into worship. I mean real creative and innovative music, maybe something with an edge or something just gritty. Mind you Lenny Smith was an ex-hippie and this music predates even Keith Green, but I long to encounter God in ways my heart has been moved so many other times.
Well this wraps up tonight’s post. It was brought to you by the letter “H” and the number (one, two, three, four, five) (six, seven, eight, nine, ten) (eleven) “12.” God bless!

20 Miles From Jackson

The air was thick like molasses and only half as sweet. Sweat trickled down every brow in the near vicinity and all were lost in the limbo of dampness. Anticipation ran high. Some waited for days, others hours, some minutes, and there were even a handful who had just stumbled into the gathering and had deep affection for sweaty masses. To some it was the second best thing to yelling, anger, and torches and pitchforks. Often this type of commotion was frowned upon by the local authorities. Today might have been a repeat of the past but the mayor and the sheriff seemed to be the center pieces of the mob.
Many things had been said about the south. Far more have been said about the Deep South. Clichés came into one full blown reality in this little burg. Opossums littered the thoroughfares and silence could never be found under the dulcet tones of banjo music and chirping crickets. Everyone even had their “Sunday Best.” Pastels littered the town square as the light shades of color began to become darker and darker. By noon the entire town will have seemed to be wearing completely different outfits. It was hot. Mosquitoes were frisky. All that fueled the anxious mob were the glasses of sweet tea that had been made the night before.
Hotter than baby gator in a skillet it was and the sizzle of the sweat hitting the ground ran as a mere after thought. Santa came months ago and this event seemed to trump them all. Each person had cleaned up. Each person had all of their accounts in order. Criminals were pardoned. The church in the center of the town even got a new steeple. Quaint would have been an understatement for the hushed and awe inspiring festivities. This was Americana at its finest.
The mayor’s daughter kept the town entertained up near the front. Golden locks and a smile that could slay a wildebeest, she belted out tunes like “It’s a Grand Old Flag,” “The Star Spangled Banner,” “Amazing Grace,” and “Be Thou My Vision.” Some sang under their breath, others just quietly wept. Most of the men held their hats to their chest and stoically took back all they saw as they rested in their austere dignity. Hallmark could not even recreate the moment. After each song a round of applause rang through the air. She would smile and then sing another ditty, her name was Pollyanna.
Two week before the crops had been gathered. They had been stored and preserved. The work of every farmer’s hand had been proudly put on display as the town rejoiced in the accomplishment of their “golden boys.” School was long out and the children played and got into their usual mischief. Girls were teased, rocks were skipped, young lovers looked for hideaways, and countless mason jars were filled with flickering lightning bugs. Life was as it should be as every man, woman, and child greeted each other by name as they strolled down the street.
The time was drawing near. The center of the town bore every soul it laid claim to that day. A light breeze was the only comfort that was allotted to the fortitude of expectancy that dwindled beneath the clock tower. 2:59 PM was struck and all fell indubitably silent. Mother’s tightly grabbed their children. Men embraced their wives. The moment finally came with half of the crowd’s eyes closed shut. Bong! Bong! Bong! The bell shattered the silence with its loud announcement. Profanity and sighs of relief filled the air as the crowd began to disperse. As soon as it came was as soon as it ended. Each left for their own house to carry on with their own lives waiting at least one more year for the world to end.

Yule Brenner was a Skinhead and Led Zepplin didn't Write Tunes Everyone Loved They Left that to the BeeGees

It has been while since I have given an honest blog and at 7:22 am I think it is about darn time to pound one out. Today has been a day to remember, or might be remembered, that is if I ever come back to this entry. I woke up this morning in not the greatest of moods. After slunking around the house for awhile I went out and did what every red blooded American male does to lift his spirits and fuel the unquenchable inferno of testosterone, I went shoe shopping. You see, what I had been sporting were a sick pair of black Vans (so high school kids can think I can skate) which not only were on the brink of sheer annihilation but had a pungency that would frequently waft all the way up to my nose, yeah, bad news. I traded them in for some cheap Hawk (as in the Tony) shoes and left the stored with a newfangled sense of the meaning of life and better hopes of not looking like to much of a square when I pick my little brother up from the skate park.

There being time to kill before Luke Wood's endearing set, I nestled up in my car and listened to a sermon on the Cross by one of the people from up in Toronto. It was very good. Much of life's problems pale when one takes time to look at the great passion that was displayed at the cross, both by the Father and the Son. Incarnation was not good enough, He had to bleed, be beaten and then die. Granted the eradic palpitations of the twittering heart I carry have become far from ceasing, His sacrifice and love is enough to still even the most hopeless of causes. One point that was made struck me pretty heavily. I had never taken time to think what the name Barabbas meant. I always assumed he was some schmuck whose existence was to be lightly loathed. His name means "Son of the Father" or "Bar Abba(s)." Out of every prisoner held for exchange this was the one who was chosen. Christ's sacrifice was so that we could all truly be sons (daughters) of Abba. If God did not spare His own son how much more will He give us all things. The very act of the sacrifice was to allow his enemies to enter into His divine love. What a good Go we serve.

The prayer room was good as was prayer team. I love talking to Jesus and prophesying, those are always good times. Then I scooted off to my job. I am a part time paper boy. My hands are still lightly stained with newsprint as I tap my black, now maybe blacker keys. I run the route with my buddy Matt Johnson, a chum from the old Fire in the Night days. Gunniong through neighborhoods in the pitchest of dark has rebirthed an old passion of mine, a love and fondness for punk rock. I had seemed to come out of it a while back, yet holding dearly to my rude boy roots. The unfolding began with Charity letting me borrow her "Play it Loud" mix with all sorts of rude goodness and has thusly culminated into an entwining of my heartstrings and the songs of the Toy Dolls. A week ago I was lost in existential bliss whilst being drowned in the euphoria that is Five Iron Frenzy's final performance and the trend seems to rise higher and higher.

In summation, God is good. Heartbreak and disappointment are bound to come, but God is faithful. Punk music is grand. Matt Johnson is a wonderful guy. The body of Christ is in desperate need of spiritual mothers and fathers. Sometimes if your passenger side window won't move be sure to chekc the window lock button before worrying about the vast ammount of empty funds it will take to fix is. God works all things out for the good of those who love Him and have been called according to His purpose, its absurd but then again so is the electoral process but we still vote. I finally found a home, it is the nightwatch and the prayer room. The Lord is good and His mercy endures forever.

Alabama Nova

Once again cars sped down the highway. The morning air left nothing more than the remants of laughter and old photographs in my memory. Having taken too many friendships for granted all that embodys what seems to be an epiphanal moment is the humming of cars and the crooning of mountain goats. Too little has gone into the thinking and planning of such great exploits whilst a somber mass gets entangled in there own narcissism. To think one day there will be an end to speculation hopes and dreams returning into pastel symphonies delight and wonder. Until now all that has ever seemed to hinge on sincerity is that of an unseen promise. Undone merely by emotional chemistry and pseudo-Shakespearean thoughts, embracing the uncreated becomes a daunting task overwhelming even the slightest of inquiries. To stand at one moment a drooling mess humbled by brilliant sovreignty then to indulge the inner crave into the depths od distraction is a battle that is often lost more times than won. To speak of futures, smiles, hopes, dreams, blood, redemption, laughter, love, trauma, conquest, romance, eyes, smiles, family, friendship, and above all God seem weighed down by the gnawing remnants of what some may even ascribe to be some sort of attention deficit. Long gone seem the days of running through fields and chasing fireflies, trips to Nostalgia land are the best with dear friends though, but in comes the final stare into the world of growing up. Surrounded by maturity and adults the threshold of accomplishment and almost meaning seems like something that has in some places been assumed where as the status quo remains in the subtle monotony of the nuances of anything but. Letting go of many things hails flickering promises yet love feels to command towards the obliteration of all the destroys. Don't get me wrong, I hate sin, I hate my sin passionately. I long for the kingdom to come, I long for the day expression is not only limited to the same old set redone and reworked except even now there may be a techno beat thrown in. I look forward with expectation the day all things are made new. Running with a pack who at one time held vigilantism in their veins, the days draws near in which lines are drawn and bravery, heroism, love, and humility pour forth like perfume and pieces of glass towards a throne. Until then, may we behold and bless, transformation beckons stronger than the steel that binds Optimus Prime's machismo together. Dawn came a couple of hours ago, yet another painting I'm sure God must have put in His scrapbook. In retrospect this entry is nothing more than sporadic conjecture, time moves on and God is good. The times they are a changin' my friend.

My Favorite Place

It had been a long time since I had ventured into possibly one of my favorite places in this fair city. Amongst the sprawling landmarks, esquisite landscapes, the lakes, the parks, and even the open plains I found myself on my back porch. Honestly it is a sheer place of contentment in a metal chair with feet on a fairly damp railing. The entire porch got set ablaze with the aromas of my coconut, lemongrass, and ginger tea with just a hint of lighter fluid from the grill. Sadly due to the rapid urbanization of the area most of what could be heard are cars on the freeway or a truck delivering hallowed goods to the compellingly cordial Kohls in the distance. Yet amidst the exhaust releases coyotes still howl and crickets still chirp in perfect harmony, granted they don't have much variation but they harmonize oh so eloquently. However, the main reason I love my back porch, primarily in the summer, is because of all the lightning bugs. A hundred or so feet from my porch is a little gorge with a creek and on the other side is a canvas of trees that tower above the grass of my back yard. Hundreds of fireflies flicker and dance all night long and illuminate the covering darkness with great finesse. I mean, in this day and age one sees all sorts of lights everywhere in various colors and intensities. With the exception of the sun, moon, and stars most of these are fueled by the combustion of power plants and the splitting of atoms. Be it oil, kites, or any other source of forging mass ammounts of electricity what was spoken into existence on the first day has become utterly taken for granted. Mind you we shouldn't leave food out for a sun god or anything but since the light bulb amusement often seems to leave (for most) after childhood.
Sorry for the tangent, but I miss the days when I was just a wee munchkin frollicking in a field chasing those little bugs. Granted I totally will most likely do that after this post, but seriously, these things are amazing. Amidst the stars, urchins, and I'm sure at one time unicorns God crafted fireflies for His very own enjoyment. It is interesting to think that even up in heaven the God of Revelation 4 looks down at those little flickering insects with a large grin on His dazzling face. As they dance and I am sure tell jokes in morse code their is an infinite God who takes sheer delight in the workmanship of His creation, from the blinking to the buzzing. In Him all things consist and everything that has been made was made by Him, for Him, and to Him. He truly is good in everything He does. Yet lightning bugs are incapable of love. They were not made in His image and He did not die for them. In all of His delighting in them God did not make them for communion, but He made us. Not only do we (believers) live in Christ but, he who unites himself with the Lord is one with him in spirit. (1 Cor 6:17). How much more is our destiny and lives certain that Christ Jesus, the uncreated God of everything, is not just in us smimming amongst the kidneys and spleen, but is part of us and we are in fact part of Him. We are an extention of Christ cojoined and treasured beyond comprehension - comprehension at this point should even be a word thrown out. Recently, ergo the past two days have been shaky, I honestly don't know what happened but it has been like mistaking a train for a baseball, something analogies fail me right now. But He is good, I am at a loss for language but our destiny and inheritance are sure. Halelujah. My Jesus, yes, He is God.

A couple of side thoughts, a (PS) if you will.)
I love my nightwatch family especially my PR team and Chauncey who I kind of went off on and he was so patient with me, a darn fine guy. Also, though I have had it for a year I have totally fallen in love with the album Floating World by Anathallo. God bless I'm off to the porch again and most likely to bed.

My Current Mood

Factions

The secand glance
Penetrates the haze of gunsmoke
Objects of masquerade
The tiers of obsession
Compete for ordination

Fallen lips
Cheeks smeared with eyeliner
Hushed moments
Embody the nightly pillage

Business cards voice numbers
Revelation pulls supremacy
Martha become CEO
Mary forever held in stocks
Where she sits and smiles

The Shanty Towns of the beloved
Held at arms length
Redaing pamphlets for apostacy
Wounds never beneficial
The towers begin to shake with dry bones

Architecture rearranges into shambles
Dust gives birth to life
Like Adam's first kiss of breath

Showmanship has eaten the passion
Fighting to justify reception of love
Running around each with a baton
Moving to depletion with storm on horizon

Responsibilty whats that
Not quite yet
It has for too long been assumed
For too long feared

Eclectic images dance in the moonlight
To the sound of horns being blown
Amidst the convoys of radio waves

64's Meanderings

Sweat stained brim towers above
The tense eybrows that twitch in repose
Direction and discernment rearing shove
Window cocked listening to the winds prose
A transfer of solar bliss brushes the arm
As the fist clenches tight the braided cargo
Return to the stench of a familiar false alarm
Confiding in the dribble from dialogue from Fargo
Don'tcha Know
Eyes glance through the dashing foliage
Presuming adventure of the pioneer past
Intrepid contellations remain on the same page
Fading memories fighting to forever last
Nooses for old friends and comrades
The shadows of legacy to be left unfulfilled
Traversing into nodadic and schemed tirades
Nearing the day futility has finally been killed
Speech rolls off of a drunkard's waving tongue
Descendants from the popular farce play on
Love being caressed and then placed back on it's rung
Wondering if the seldom movements were ever wrong
Words fall to the ground and float overhead
The solace found in hope's gleaming eye is all thats afloat
Synopsis of the cliff notes of life still on my bed
Wondering who would have had these words wrote
Grammar plays on through the night as a dying breed
Language drifting like the Appalachian semi
Word becoming flesh for the illiterate to feed
Love breathed out of a smoke ring tepid in all it ever touches
Rhyme dies off yet posture remains
Through the noise of combustion and convolution
The revolution on the verge of a myth
Spurs on the noble and hopeless alike
With the large hand that holds the bruised
And breathes life into the embers of disillusion
A future is certain
A past is distorted
A present is over scrutinized
Be still and know
He is God

Shiny Happy People

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.... once again the words of Michael Stipe repeat on the white rectangle above me. There is a big business for sentiment in the world and one cannot help but get sucked in. Each longs to be part of some spinning montage that depicts a group growing up, learning, making mistakes, falling in love, and at the end contently riding into the warm glow of a setting sun with a sigh of accomplishment slipping out a slightly cracked grin. I'm breaking through, I'm bending spoons, I'm keeping flowers in full blooms, I' looking for answers from the great beyond. All in all looking for adventure in the quirks we hold as our basis for living, friendship. Who can hold onto that forever, there is time where one is young and at one time can soar. I mean of course there is an apparent end to that, I think it's far closer to 30 than 25 but one has to look for that menaing to pursue boldly that which burns within. Inherent clarity seems to come in all shapes of lacking yet we pursue on.
I write these words to myself and a ouple others, more or less to just type something. I would spill my thoughts and feekings on all sorts of issues but I mean, I like what I have and am sure it would not be for the best. From my mouth people can be either blessed or hurt and I feel that the slips of encouragement only mask the wounds which in the past I have doled out with little thought.
My good friend sits in the other room right now as I type and he eats something to hold him down for the few hours of sleep he is getting tonight. Tomorrow night he and another friend of mine leave to see a slew of bands and a large mass of hippies in Tennesse at Bonnaroo. Amidst the dulcid tunes of the White Stripes, Mute Math, Tool, the Police, the String Cheese Incident, Robert Randolph and the Family Band, and Wilco they will mingle with good ol' hippies running around yelling, "T-Shirts and Morphine five dollars!" Yeah, and to be honest I heavily considered going intending to pray and intercede but most likely would end up just seeing shows and praying in tongues on and off. I mean, going into this trip I expected spend a ton of time reading, in contemplation, and kicking it at RiHOP. Yet that has not been the case at all. In weakness you learn to love. Some call it the wilderness, others complacency, honestly I want to live again. The one thing that has been moving and directing my heart is waining into a place hovering right over despair and clinging onto the goodness of God.
My heart has had it's ups and downs. I mean I type this to pretty much Charity and Kacie and I truly thank you both for your friendship. Yet broad scope back into play, I have never lived or been fuled by anything. Opinions wane. Will I live live to 83, will I live to welcome me... who knows but slowly I move to the goal. God opens things when it is his time yet my mind holds static as my heart dangles by a thread chasing what feels a carrot on a string that is always out of reach. So follow me, don't follow me. I've my spine, I've got my orange crush. I mean I have all the right friends and am in a place in which a vision should spur me but has not sunk in. Thats me in the corner, in the backround losing my religion. Its going beyond words yet morphing slowly into a symbiotic being trying to do nothing but uplift and love. Nowhere but up to pour my heart yet it is far to easy to question the answers that pop into your head....
To be blatant, IHOP and the prayer room do not hold my heart. I mean I am there and I love the teachings and the people but my attention is shot and I feel like a hypocrite who spouts off prayers more confident that they are heard but am lost and as a crappy student feel entirely out of the loop. I love my friends but I need discipleship. Don't get me wrong I appreciate the words and prayer sessions but I mean I run a race I have run by myself and to be honest I live in an environment where pretty much every one deals with their own issues and fight scrape to get some sort of solace. I mean don't get me wrong there are leaders but no one to look up to, no one with time that is. I give what I can.... I lack direction and all seems to be a blur. I wish I could play music. I wish I could overcome my distraction. I wish I could watch a romantic movie with hope. I wish I would just step into what I was made for if not know something more than words that have become cliche.... In the meantime I let my scattered thoughts dirft around before sleep and listen to REM. Its the end of the world as I know and I feel fine, should I I don't know. All I know is that sweetness will follow.

*Bonus - count the REM references

Mirrors & Smoke

So, my first stint in Richmond endfs tonight. Tomorrow I embark to Atlanta and the mosey over to Norfolk VA and back to where I am. Here are a few thoughts and/statements regarding the current scenario.

*I miss QT, who knew, I mean honestlt sometimes you are just jonesing for a taquito or an eggroll, both of which are of clearly atrocious quality but a taquito and an eggroll none the less.

*Nothing out here is open past 11 pm unless it is a regular alkeyhall bar or the bar of the hookah variety. After being at the hookah bar twice, I yearn for the House of pancakes, they close out here by 12.

*My heart goes out heavily for this city, after seeing friend after friend in sullen monotonous dribble I have this dull ache to be hear, nothing throbbing but enough to make me go, hmmm......

*RiHOP (Richmond's International House of Prayer) is frankly amazing. It is downtown in Carytown which is a cross between the Lawrence, Wesport, and the Plaza. It is two blocks from a strip club, surrounded by bars and clubs, down the street from Edgar Allen Poe's house, close to where slaves were held pre-sale, and a few blocks from the oldest Masonic temple in the US. Let me tell you, spiritual significance. The few times I have gone I have just been blown away by the presence of God. God has big things and intercession if fueled as from outside the windows in this second story loft can see every walk of life.

*I may be taking annother direction in life. This time where as unstructred and uninhibited as it is has left me with alot on my plate. I may pursue the one thing that honestly burns in me, which may lead to me leaving FSM, it is all just very theoretical but life is changing, seasons are dawinng and I stand no only at the forefront of my existence.

*I plan on coming out here more frequently I hope and would love to bring my family out here to see all the great things God is doing. On that note I miss my family at IHOP dearly from the PR Team FTFNF and foreign and student friends alke. My heart aches fo rizzle.

*I am planning on sometime in the near future switching to wordpress I mean I hate blogger layout, and shoot its what all the cool kids do, I mean and then actually getting invovled in a blogging community, that would be fun.

*My summer has now been given the two albums which will most likely etch the memories into my life. These include Silverchair's Young Modern and Jars of Clay's Good Monster. Silverchair where as they are not redeeming really the music alone if breathtaking. It is an album in which I can get utterly consumed with auditory bliss through almost every second of listening. the same goes for Good Monster, however, the lyrics are phenomenal, with hints of blue grass roots I get propelled into thought and smiling whilst jamming.

*Richmond is a good city, I mean historic, beautiful, and in deep need of God. My heart is still deeply ties to this city even after four years. I miss Kansas City its true.

A disconcerted effort follows parched lips
Cracked and peeling the grip the cup
Searching for moisture

Hidden behind them swirl the eulogy
Of a time that once was and God willing
Will never be again

Sadness bound in selfish repose with silence
Lockjaw vernacular pitted against the cries
Of hope persistent bellowing

The shattered glass cuts deep into the dross
A faded cross still swaying from rugged neck
Defying the meandering thoughts

Heaven hangs above like Orion's bow
The river Kedar too long a distance
For the sake of closure

Her voice trails allong the countours of my mind
Like the dew of an inbreaking dawn
Distracting from all other color

A melody comes from the distant hills
A hopefull banjo strumming in the wind of decision
Chiming in with the bluejay's ditty

Samson's hair at my feet a time once held
By warrior's defending the promise of life
Budding forth into virtue

Mistakes are held by all at my side
Denial of our humanity pales in contrast
To the taste of new creation

Now I lay me down to sleep with the laughter
Of times once spent in an oblivious demeanor
Being redeemed into a glorious smile

Hackneyed Journal Entry

Right now I write on a back porch staring skly high at the glowing orbs above. Life goes on and time stands still for no man. Over the past couple of days I have been reimmersed into the universe of the american pursuit, life, love, sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Formalities fall by the wayside as a man excitedly welcomes you inot his house while he takes yet another hit from his gravity bong. Mind you this was just a detour on the way to a concert whose population was primarilh hippies. Desperation floods all that I see, I mean that and denial. It happens where you lock eyes with a girl as she expouses about the weekend she had when she kicked dignity out the door, a laugh follows then a look craving some sort of congratulations. What is man that God is mindful of them. I mean where words fall and salt either pollutes or loses its saltiness truth fizzles into complacent disillusion. So I sit here about to retreat in to read. It has been a pleasant stay. I met with a friend of the family earlier today and he told me of his journey whcih bolstered some hope in me. Also he is working towards producing a screenplay on the life of John Newton and working on writing a couple others. Tonight I will most likely drive around and do pretty much nothing, I mean Richmond seems to have less open than KC. Right now my buddy is at work and then will close his evening enjoying some of the "benefits" of one of his friends. I don't envy him, shoot I know I would have but everything breaks in my heart. Which leads me to my only state, I mean honestly dealing with my own feelings which I am pretty sure that will be crushed....... yet clinging on to the non jackass true view of my Almighty Father.I don't fear anyone reading this but man, it is dang lonely, but not at the same time. I know a trite as it sounds gratitude for the pr team and ftfnf crew and all the others have dramatically increased. I have found rest. But at the same time also unrest. It would be to grow up, I want to act my age but everything in me opposes it. God is good, if some one read be blessed. You are deeply treasured, both by God and most likely me.