First semester - Check

I completed my first semester of graduate school.  I was successful too.  It was painful and exhausting, but I am so excited about the next one.  It is a little sick.  I guess I do like pain.  My thoughts are muddled about everything else.  I finished one, I made it.  Praise the Lord.  Praise the Lord!
Merry Christmas.

Confession

I am so mindful of the sinner I am that I lose sight of Grace. I am unhappy and without trust.  As a result, in practice I forget God and live with His Word behind me some of the time.
It's as if life is my teenage girlfriend, and is God my parents - I spend more time, effort and thought on life than I do on God.  I will easily disobey Him for her sake, though I still live in His house and want to be called by His name.
The vanity lies in the amount of effort I put to drawing close to God and when the sinner thing comes up I get tangled and I focus on life, which frustrates me so I go back and forth. It is tiring.  There is no progress in either pursuit. 

Caged

I am looking for a new thrill.  This happens when I start to see the bars of the cage, when I cannot sustain the illusion that I am free.  New distractions refresh the illusion generating engine.  I have been pacing for a while, now I just want to bite someone's head off!

sigh.
wow.

It's hard.

That's all I will say right now

You are not a very sharp sword if you question the hand that wields you.

Finished Job.  My conclusion: though we do take the liberty to say what we think, we frankly have neither case nor claim to stand on.  Job's sin was the lack of trust spelled out by his statements.  It is as if the sword asks the wielding hand, "Oy! Are you sure you know what you are doing?"  The sword could not teach the hand were it to reply, "Actually sword, I have no idea.  I am running an H2IK algorithm as we speak."  We should rather like (mature) children stand in trust saying, "Daddy knows what is best for me.  I do not know why things are the way they are, but I do know He has it all under control and He is doing everything He can for my benefit" and end there.  Mature children.  Wouldn't that be nice?

I think it was Corrie ten Boom who asked her dad about why God does not do things in advance and his response was along these lines (I paraphrase), "When we go on a train, when do I give you your ticket?"

Her response, "Just before we board."
"Why do I do that?" 
"Because I do not need the ticket anytime before that." 
"Exactly right.  The Lord will provide for us what we need exactly when we need it."

According to Glenn Kaiser, "if you seek Him you will be doing fine.  He'll meet your needs in the nick of time." - Nick of Time, on Live with special guest Dave Beagle.  

If I "know my redeemer lives [Job 19:25]," then I should also remember the same One "does not sleep or slumber [Ps 121:4]" and given that He "began a good work in [me, He] will be faithful to complete it [Phil1:6]."  So sit down, shut up and trust Him!

Do not avert your eyes from this pain

After starting graduate school I do not have the hours in a day to complete my daily activities - running, blogging, TV, games, reading, even house work.  In response I sleep less, I am not playing games, watching less TV and not blogging (except for the 620 blog).  And I stopped spending my time in the Word with my wife.  We noticed this was going on and revamped our efforts to keep reading the Word together, we are behind but reading at least double time to catch up the almost month we lost.  The Israelites are still in exile.  The major prophets have gone to be with their forefathers.  In an effort to encourage and challenge both sinful and devout Jews, the story of Job is shared. 


My favourite Bible books are Psalms, Ecclesiastes, Proverbs, Job and Lamentations (in no order).  They all augment and challenge my schizophrenic attributes (repression - Even a fool seems wise when he holds his tongue [Prov 17:28], better a house of mourning than a party [Ecc 7:2-4], devoted poetic - who may ascend the hill of the Lord…he who has clean hands and a pure heart [Ps 24:3-4], gross sinner - the Lord is in the right for I have rebelled against His Word [Lam 1:18], life is vanity - What has a man from all the toil and striving of heart? [Ecc 2:22]).    


Job is dear to me because I long for his level of contentment and devotion.  Job was blasted!  Stripped of everything but a life he did not want and a thoroughly confusing relationship with God.  I have had some rough seasons, nothing to Job's extent, but every time I want (and tend to) scold God and 'let Him have it because He wants me to be honest, and He can take it.'  Likely true, the accuracy of that statement is extremely suspect.  Job took it all, he spoke his mind to God with proper reverence.  He was mad.  But he held his place before a Holy God.  I love how he says, "I think I am right, but if I call God to court He will judge and I will be found at fault and He will be right…I wish there were an advocate between God and man…" (Job 9:1-3, 19, 33).  I found that glorious, Job actually asked for Jesus in his time of hardship!
  
Jesus is there for me, so here we are - grad school is tough, my finances are shot and getting worse.  I am tired and frustrated which leads me to sin; making grad. school worse and finances 'worser.'  Let's throw in the shame and guilt for good measure.  Reinforcing feedback loop of misery.  Though I pray for reprieve I really do not know what God is doing and how long it's going to take. When things get like this, I tend to run away, I shut down like Norah, "wake me up when it's over, wake me up when it's done.  When [He's] gone away and taken everything wake me up…today I am not so strong…"  


I begin to see now the error of that way.  Though I go through the trail, I am not paying attention to the Lord and what He is doing.  I retreat to hiding, ignore the issue until it has gone away and I am cleaning up after the storm.  The great loss of this tactic is this: I am unable to "...comfort others with the comfort [I, myself] have been comforted" (2 Cor 1:4).  I should face all of it.  Look at the whole scene.  I want to flinch and look away like at the crucifixion.  


We all cringe and shut our eyes and mentally distance ourselves from the horror of redemption.  We should rather keep looking so we can begin to comprehend the weight of the whole thing.  In addition, we will be able to relay the story accurately if we are called as witnesses.  Job could have shut down, cried all the time, kept stuffing his face, watched TV until his bum was round and his eyes square or whatever else we do to avert.  He would have learnt nothing of what he was supposed to.  We would not have his story, what a loss that would be?

Here then is the new song;

"don't turn away, don't give in to the pain don't try to hide, though they're screaming your name don't close your eyes, God knows what lies behind them don't turn out the light, never sleep never die" - Evanescence, Whisper

I want, like Job to focus on the Lord, maintain the righteousness inferred upon me by the blood of Christ and continue living in a manner that is pleasing to Him. I long to be humble and content in all this. I want two things: 

1. To say, "though there are no grapes on the vine or olives in the grove and no food in the fields...yet I will rejoice in the Lord" (Hab 3:17) 
2. And to hear Him say, "Well done good and faithful servant…" (Matt 5:21)

 

Fight or Flight

"...whenever it feels like I'm in too deep I am reminded I am in You.  And the storms that threatened lie beneath your wounded feet."

I asked my Facebook friends what they do when life was terrifying.  They did not respond.  As I ran today I thought of the fear I have of graduate school.  The 'next big thing' in my life at this point.  Classes start on Tuesday and I am scared.  I sat in orientation yesterday and like the songwriter quoted above I clearly felt I am in too deep, I have bitten off more than I can chew.  Yet the Lord started preparing me for this new adventure a month ago.

My wife reconciled our book shelves, big two year anniversary step.  I found myself repeatedly drawn to the book Brokenness: The heart God revives by Nancy L DeMoss.  I started reading it and so many things she writes about are ringing true to me.  I see the pillars of pride in my life and long for the Lord to bash the lot.  One lesson I already wrote about was concerning how much I had to offer when I taught the Word.  The next stage is how much I have to offer academically and financially, my self-dependence.  

I am not a brilliant student, but I get results.  I work hard for most of my grades.  Many get better grades with less work, those are brilliant students.  I do not feel like I know much until I am questioned, then knowledge (and I am sure some trash) gushes out in response.  With this under my belt, the things I heard in graduate school orientation left me feeling puny and inadequate.  The same way I felt at assembly in first grade as I wet my pants from fear; utterly helpless.  So I came home, told my wife what I had learned, asked my FB 'friends' for advice and went to sleep.

I ran today and contemplated my fear.  I thought of the fear response in nature - Fight or Flight.  Some animals roll into a ball, freeze, play dead, run and yet others will fight to the death (honey badgers come to mind - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c81bcjyfn6U)  What, then is my response to fear?  And what should my response be to fear?

In short, I should ever respond to fear by running to Christ.  Not by standing to fight in my own strength.  As the Korahthites wrote in the 44th Psalm, "...I do not trust in my bow and my sword...But You give us victory over our foes...We boast in God all the day long."  David in the 11th Psalm writes, "In the Lord I take refuge; how can you say to my soul, "Flee like a bird to you mountain..."?"  So I will run to the Lord, He is my refuge.  Where else can I go?  I am not going back to my idols.  TV and games, even books are just distractions.  They benefit nothing!  I have no wealth with which to buy my way out of difficulty.  My good looks never took me anywhere.  I have nothing.  I will say it louder, in case anyone missed it, I HAVE NOTHING!!  But God...and that is who I need.  He is all I need.

How can you say to me fly like a bird because someone is hiding out to shoot you down?  Actually, I will fly, but to the Lord.  My Shepherd and He will provide for me.  He will see me through it.  If there will be a fight, His sword will swing for all 3 years and more.  Through the fat and the thin, He has done it before.  Go on, bring the pain!!

http://ccmiddleriver.org/mp3/2010/01/2010-01-03.mp3

Response to Brokenness 1 - God draws near to the broken

Nancy L DeMoss shared a story in this section that I can relate to.  She was tired, yet she had a conference to lead.  Once she made it there after spending time with the Lord asking if she should go, asking for strength and all; she says she could have told them she had avoided all the 'Pitfalls of ministry.'  She did not, she humbled herself before the Lord (roof off) and before the people (walls down) and I think she had a brilliant time.

Here is my story; back in the day when I taught the Word I was not always as prepared for the study as I should have been.  This was a problem especially when I was in college, teaching a Uth group, a co-ed college group and had a guys study.  There was a lot going on at the time.  Sometimes I tried hard, and others I just did not for a myriad of reasons.

I ironically found that the best studies were the ones I was inadequately studied for.  Once the deadline was up I was on my face before the Lord pleading for something to say.  When all was said and done I think He was kind enough to bless the people.  He fed them in spite of my poverty.  And I gleaned something too.  It was pleasantly thrilling,being a conduit, saying things I was sure I knew nothing about, things I may have remotely mused on but had conclusions and advice spilling out - and I had no clue!  I said to myself, "this should never happen again."  It did, many times.  All the time it was a humbling experience, how the Lord would use an inadequate vessel.

Thinking back on it now, yes it was irresponsible not to study.  The Lord came through for His people.  One of the reasons the studies were so good was because I came to them empty and humble.  I had nothing to offer, and I knew it.  When I studied I felt I had something to offer, in my subconscious I said, "Listen to what I have to say to you," not so much what the Lord had to say.  On the surface I was submitted to the Lord, but I do not think I was.  I am convinced I wasn't.  Except for those days when I had nothing to say, then I was submitted out of necessity.

The honest part was that I did not want the Lord to look bad, I am sure I am/was a bad teacher (I didn't study!  HELLO!); no need to convince me of that part.  So I could earnestly say, "Lord your name is at stake here."  And He heard that.  He showed up and fed His flock through me, in spite of me.  Those are the teaching people spoke of for days.  Maybe they did stick to the good ones then huh?

I have not taught for at least a year.  So much had been worked on in me.  If I ever teach again, I pray I will always be in a humble state of mind, "Lord it is not me.  It is You.  I have nothing to offer.  You do.  Your name is at stake."

"Take me, break me, mold me and use me.  I want to do thy will oh Lord..."

The Yellow jacket

I do not place special significance on creatures of any shape or size.  I am curious to know how we got the eat those we eat and why we do not eat others.  They were all created for our consumption (if we so choose), to help us with our work (if they can be broken) and others are just to marvel at.  Not to be abused, tormented or killed on human whims.

I sat down to lunch, the new cafeteria has a decent view of mountains and suburbs hiding between the trees  Besides, the cubicle corral is cold so I eat outside to absorb some heat.  This particular day a yellow jacket came by.  It buzzed around and could not decide if my person was more interesting than the (now empty) fruit cup.  I find these (and other stinging) insects very unsettling.  I have been stung every time I attempted to brush them off.  I am not calm long enough in their presence to sit still until they leave of their own volition, especially when they get on my skin.  It is bearable on clothes.  One got under my shirt once and...let us say it did not end well for me.  But that's besides the point.


I had enough, I am not intentionally cruel to critters.  I could not handle the level of inquisitive activity carrying on about me.  When it landed on my tray I set the empty fruit cup over it.  HA!  Big brain beats stinger!  Yes, victory was mine. I returned to my meal and book.  I noticed out of the corner of my eye the wasp going around inspecting every bit of its prison.  It did this about 5 times all taking about two minutes.  After it was satisfied the most amazingly sad thing happened: it went to the very centre of the cup and it literally curled up.  It arranged each pair of legs in turn, put head to abdomen and died.  It stopped moving.  I watched it intently for at least a minute.  It neither budged not fluttered.  Nothing.  It just curled up and died!

I did not mean to kill it, I felt so guilty.  I had killed a creature that had not wronged me (yet).  I picked up the cup and the wasp did not move.  It was really dead.  I mourned for it a moment, tipped the tray over so it fell to the ground and, well, the day had to go on.  So it did.

It's all fragile see.  The whole thing, even the scary ones, and the big ones also.  Life is fragile.  Yours and mine too.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:European_wasp_white_bg.jpg

Forgiven

David wrote in the Psalms, (and I paraphrase,) 'It is amazing to be forgiven.  How happy you are when you know all your errors and short comings are not held against you.'  I agree completely.  If you disagree, you need more than a head check.

Some people are forgiven and they are fixated on their shame and failure.  They go over it and over it again trying to find the 'spot' they took the wrong turn and ensure it never happens again.  They, let me say rather we are full of pride.  We appreciate the second chance, but we want to be sure this NEVER happens to us again.  We do not like to be rescued, we would rather be rescuers.  We would never be seen to want, but for some ironic reason we are riddled with need and are foolish, no stupid enough to act like we are whole.  And because we say we are fine, our shame and failure remains.

Others are forgiven and they revel in it.  They walk about believing their freedom and their behaviour shows it.  They live for that sense of being forgiven.  They may fall, but their focus is on the One who forgives all.  So they easily take His hand when they call out to Him.  They get back up, dust off and keep looking forward.  They do not continue to do wrong to enjoy the 'rush' of being pardoned.  Forgiveness is not a license to break the law.  Their errors hurt too.  Like all of us they sow (winds) and reap (whirlwinds) - their wrong doing has consequences.  But they are full of wrong, they fall, but they know to call for help, they are pardoned and they live as released debtors:  in revelry.

Most of us swing in between these two, and pray that some day we may live more evenly.  All have sinned and offended the Creator of the world.  It may not seem or sound fair, but He made it.  It's His lot, we play by His rules.  So we ought to get right by Him.  The fun part is He is willing to make us right, to forget our every fault that we may stand just as if we never did wrong if we realise, submit, ask and then follow Him.  How is that not Amazing Grace?

Conversation at work (via e-mail)

I do not know about you, but I do not fully appreciate the quality people the Lord has placed in my life.  I, for a long time looked upon this as a curse: I do not typically pick my friends, it is as if they are picked for me.  The people I would like to be my friends typically do not like me at all.  People I was iffy about, and some I plainly did not want to be seen with end up becoming the most precious people I have ever been privileged to know.  Just another assurance that my life is not my own to spend as I please, I have been bought with a price and to God's glory I sometimes go where He leads.  Most times I am dragged where He leads, and realise my benefit when I am there. If it is true that "you learn from your mistakes, then I should be a genius..."
Thanks Karen.


one of my patients "smoked one pack of cigarettes for many years"

A pack a day or one pack lasted for many years????????? 

How are you this AM….. I don't want to be here.

his record says, "smoked one pack of cigarettes for many years"

I am sure he meant a pack a day for many years, but I prefer to think he was trying to get into the Guinness book of world records for the slowest smoker/longest lasting pack.  he got COPD, pneumonia and rubbish lungs instead. even though he smoked only one pack. 

That's a weird way of writing it….  He must of gotten COPD while trying to finish the pack.

Some people smoke 1-3 pks per day… I couldn't begin to afford smoking addiction.  It would kill me to purchase one pack…at some places one pack is twice the cost of a gallon of gas.

Just noticed that I am not working very hard...

Why,  you have been here since early this AM

I am like the guy smoking one pack in years…here for 4 hours and did very little…BLAST!  I struck several things off my To Do List though.  Oh well, guess I am that good huh.

I do it all so fast I do not feel it.  Yeah, I am so sharp.

Wow… no brag, just fact huhhhhh

Has your boss checked in this week?

no.  she is having too much fun on vacation.  I think she checks in when she is bored…or at least I hope she does.

Karen, I am a lazy punk!  That's all there is to it. I do not strike myself as a hard worker. Man; other lazies are rich and here I am lazy and making a 40hr a week show of it.  Life's like that ainit?

YOU ARE NOT LAZY….here you are about to start graduate school and you think you are lazy….NOT TRUE

means to an end…the ends keep me on point!  motivated does not necessarily mean un-lazy. if left to my own devices I would honestly rot in bed.  growing up I was implanted with an amazing capacity to feel guilty. I am really quite lazy, I just would rather work than feel guilty.

its very sick and twisted if you ask me!


I appreciate the work ethic my parents worked so hard to instil in me.  It sucks (from here) that I learned instead to work hard enough to please my superiors and so that I do not feel guilty for 'wasting time.'  The flip side is I cannot relax; everything I do for rest leaves me feeling wasteful.  I pray for pure motives.

Moving Pictures

In CS Lewis' book Out of the Silent planet, the narrator, Ransom meets the beings of Malacandra.  The one of the hrossa told him the life of a moment.  He said, and I paraphrase, a full moment is in three stages.  First is the anticipation, then the actual moment itself then the memory.  When all these elements are put together and savoured, then you have a whole moment.  And in our minds this can go on for ages, we can enjoy a moment for yonks.  

I find art to be the commemoration of a moment, be it a photograph, a painting, a song, a movie, play...name it.  There was an occurance that the artist decided to immortalise.  I tried to take pictures of all the wonder worthy sunsets  I saw.  My camera never did them justice.  So I tried to 'memorise' them.  Even then, memories are only so long.      

"The painter had achieved what we would all like to do: capture time and make it stand still" - Across the Nightingale Floor, Lian Hearn

Life is a bunch of moments strung together.  Some are brilliant, some are absolute rubbish.  Though we find a need to make some of it stand still, we should not be hung up on anyone instance, but rather keep moving along the continuum.  Though the current scene is the most breath taking, awesome thing ever beheld, one ought to keep moving.

A long time ago, when I was super spiritual I 'preached' to a bunch of college students.  They loved the sermon (I called them talkie-thingies to get away from sermon, it sounds too official.)  They loved it so much they spoke about it for weeks to come.  I honestly thought they did not pay attention to the other great talkies that came after because they were bent on that one.  It distressed me.  They missed out, because they found one good thing and decided to stay there.

It makes sense, with all that life throws on us, to want to spend eternity in one moment.  I stand with the hrossa on this one, a moment is not fully realised until you live through its three phases.  Anticipation (however brief), staging and retrospection.  You cannot revel in the stage forever, like manna it will grow maggots and become nightmare.  Less lofty is my immense irritation at the people who live by the adage 'high school is never over.'  Most become rotten adults.  When the moment is gone it is gone.  Holding on only ruins it.

Life is bunch of moving pictures.  They should only stop when the whole story is told.  You think you have found a 'perfect place to stop and linger' there is likely more and better things to come.  But you held on to the  thing now it is ruined.  Anticipate tomorrow, live in the present and revel in the memory of yesterday.  Anything else is ruinous.

"So I've got to keep on going..."

Like the Moon

Solomon said everything was a cycle and nothing is new.  We will jump right into this one:

She arises in all her glory - big, brilliant, ecstatic to be there.  All the world sees and adores her.  Nature reflects her glory, we howl and succumb to our madness.  The more demure just wave in the wind parading new colours.  She spends a week in revelry, yet as each day passes, her love for the stage diminishes.  She remembers her self-consciousness and all of a sudden she turns her face away.  Leaves her darling in darkness.  All the little girls that yearn for his gaze stare and bat their eyes.  They do not know, however hard they try they will never get close to him.  He is well and permanently spoken for.

She enjoys the silence, darkness - her time alone.  Away from adoration, his and ours.  No one knows what she does alone.  I will not tell, if I do she will not be so alone then will she?  What do you do when you are alone?  When you run from your loved ones to breathe free air, think your own thoughts and tend to things that are wholly you.  Things as private and crucial as washing behind your ears, or the morning gunk in your eyes.  What do you do with that time?

She comes out, and every one notices even though she tries to steal in.  She progresses in fourths.  Secretly, quietly instilling her presence in our beings, so we quickly forget she was gone.  Rather we are left with a sense that she was always there, we just stopped looking.  Yet the starkness of the dark still echoes confusion in our little minds.  Our only respite is to look upon her pale wonder.  Let your jaw hang, it is acceptable, look around, see you are not alone.
 
In another while she strides out in her brilliance to the wonder and howls of all creation.  We lose our minds for the love of her, but her eye is set on that one and none else.  "To everything turn, turn, turn..."

Alone

You may have noticed, this is theme with me.  I just completed reading Adam by David Bolt.  In case you do not know, Adam was the first man.  God created him into a paradise.  He worked to keep the Garden, name the animals and hang out with the Lord.  Until he got lonely.  In brash terms I am sure God had God stuff to go and do.  You can play with dogs only so much, cats only when they want and elephants when...I do not know when they feel playful.  Maybe just around the lake and rivers.  But the key was he could not talk to them, there was no communication possible, they do not understand him nor him them.  Men are made for companionship.  The Lord knew that, He is after all All Knowing (yes I will capitalize His attributes too! :P)

When finally Adam had known loneliness, he longed for a companion and he was provided a woman, Eve.  They had fun I am sure.  He taught her what he knew.  She asked questions and introduced a different perspective in his life, rejuvenated his curiosity, injected a playfulness into his brooding.  He enjoyed every moment.  He considers for a moment that Eve has never known the loneliness he experienced.  According to Uncle Mo, this is why men are more often brooders.  We picked it up from Grandpa Adam.  Women are more social because it was like that from their beginning.  Makes sense to me.

The Fall; yes she wanted to be wise, above the creatures.  She asked, "How can we know good if we do not know evil?"  Curiosity killed paradise.  And he thought, "If God created her, he would not have made her to lead me astray would He?"  And there it all went.

I would have done the same thing most likely.  It was that or (from tainted mortal sight) go back to being alone.  There is so much we give up for companionship, that is why it is such a big deal - it's expensive.  How much more we gain from it.  Now we know for sure that God loves us, for He provided Himself to be the perfect sacrifice that we may again walk and talk with Him.  None of us, if we so choose, will ever be alone again.

Thumper Adventure #1

Took the motorrad on my first road trip.  It was a great experience.  I missed wifey the whole time, but thoroughly enjoyed the time alone.  It does me good.

I left for WV on Friday.  Took interstate and then some secondary roads. I returned on Saturday.  I could smell the places I was riding through.  I saw people on their porches. One man swept, a family sat around the grill.  I could smell the meat cooking, hear them laughing almost.  It was cooler in the shade, distinctly so when I climbed and the reverse when I went down a mountain.  The trees, the creeks, signs, so much that will not likely grow around the interstates any time soon.

So you know Pickaway, VA has a Pizza Barn and outside Union I saw a Beauty Barn.  I saw Humpback Bridge and Falling Springs Falls in Covington, little jewels by the roadside that one may never find.  Next time I will take a real camera.

I talked briefly to Doug and his wife Carol.  They have a daughter who goes to school where I live.  He has even been to Zim!  That was so cool.  He walked up to me and he looked at the bike and goes, "Oh it's a Beemer.  Must be a smooth ride."  And on we went like buddies.

To top it off I hit the twisties on 250 heading down from Head Waters, a section that is technical in a car, so much more on a bike.  I loved it.  The brief moment I looked down I could see the pebbles on the road.
I did not feel the freedom that most people talk about, I just felt closer to the places I went through.  I could (briefly) see the weeping willows.

In a word, it was a lovely ride.  Let's do it again soon.

Eugene

I was young and impressionable.  I was in a brand new world.  Lost, plagued by inferiority.  Small, pushed about yet still trying to make a name for myself.  Working hard to fit in some place with some one, anyone.

He was tall, dark, blast the cliche handsome.  The little school girls loved him.  We little school boys too.  As much as we loved him we feared him.  He walked bolt straight.  Did I mention he was tall?  A tall man's posture is a lot more pronounced than a shorter one.  I never saw him slouch, or walk with drooped shoulders.  He wore a long, sure stride.  Usually smiled; he was human and had bad days.  On most days he smiled.  He was an accountant.  Guess what I wanted to be at that point and for the next 6 years of my life?  Accountant or actuary. I did not just want to be like this man, I almost wanted to be him.  If God worked the miracles I almost heard at the church were the guy preached with his back to the kids, maybe he will make me get tall and handsome too.  Then I can be a successful accountant like Eugene, and I can drive a nice car and...fancies of a little boy.

One Saturday afternoon I did not want to play with the other kids.  Eugene was the duty teacher and I asked to stay in the dorm and read.  He permitted it.  That evening after we watched a movie and everyone went to bed I do not remember exactly why, but he called me and another boy, Samuel into his room.  It was neat, yellow lights, plenty of books...I remember that much.  Eugene told us about Jesus Christ and about the church he took kids to on Sundays.  He asked if we wanted to go.  I agreed to go but I had to get a paper signed by my parents.  Which meant waiting for exeat weekend when they would pick me up.  It was a week away, but I spoke to my dad on the phone by some fluke and he came and signed the paper.  It was set, the Sunday after I got back from exeat I was going to church with Eugene.  He gave me a year old, leather bound diary I used as a notebook for many years afterwards.

I did not know what to expect, but I hoped to find an answer to the mystery of Eugene.  I wanted what he had, I wanted his life style. The joy, the respect he commanded, the love he had for most kids.  He whistled in the hallways! Nobody did that.  Only good for nothings whistled, but this man who was far from a good for nothing whistled in the hallways after lights out!  That is what I wanted - joy, peace, confidence, belonging.

I went to church every weekend I was at school.  I begged to go to camp and was finally allowed to go.  I gave my life to the Lord so that I would be like the flannel board David - well groomed and smiling with his sword.  They promised the Lord would fight my battles for me.  I would victor over giants (flannel board Goliath with warts and all).  I thought bullies, He meant other, bigger, scarier giants.  If I trusted in Jesus, they said, I would turn out on top.  We even sang about it, "...no weapon against me shall prosper, because I know who I am.  Yeah I am washed in the blood of the Lamb...I know who I am in Jesus, I am the head and not the tail...above and not beneath!  I have the mind of Christ..."  I went to camp, received the Holy Spirit.  I spoke in tounges.  I prayed in tounges, still do.

I left the school when I was done there.  Eugene's life got tumultuous, you could see the difference in him.  He left the school.  But while he was, we became 'friends' and he told me where he worked.  Said I could call on him.  One day after 2-3 years I did.  He had changed his name.  Married a divorcee (which was frowned upon).  His stride was shorter.  The smile in his eyes was mostly gone.  It took effort to speak to me, I got the distinct impression he wanted to forget Selbourne Routledge so I said goodbye and that was it.

He had been sifted like wheat; as we all are at some point.  It took the smile out of him, I hope still for a spark of faith.  I do not know, His Saviour knows.  He knows Eugene's name and from whence he came, and He is faithful to keep what Eugene entrusted to Him until that Day.  He will do the same for Xian, and Promise and David and many others, if that spark remains.  I am sure He will fan it to flame, I know He would never put it out.

I got what Eugene had, I got to meet His Master and I love Him more than I ever loved.  Every once in a while my dad would bring news about Eugene.  Even that became scarce until it too died.  I have my own identity now.  I will never forget the man who showed me Christ.

Whole hearted Membership

Jesus the Christ semi-quoting Moses said (paraphrased) the greatest commandment was to love the Lord with all of one’s heart, soul and strength.  If one love’s the Lord in this way, one will clearly love their neighbor; they will neither steal from, kill, lust after or envy said neighbour, nor worship any other gods.  Rather they will spend every moment in pursuit of the Lord and righteousness.  They will daily carry their cross and freely follow Him. Jesus the Christ came to be Emmanuel, God with us.  Here, daily; an ever present help in times of need.  Watching the greying and falling of hair from our heads.  Minutely and wholly loving and involved in our everything.  God of Heaven, Earth and Eternity in relationship with us: Emmanuel.

The sad reality of this wonderful theory in my life I will liken to my professional organizations.  I keep up with their rules so that I may still carry the card and work legally.  I do not read the email newsletters for a hundred reasons.  The ephemeral ‘they,’ named but faceless beings dictating what I should know, when and how so that I am ‘awarded’ a placard indicating that I have paid my dues, read the papers, took the little tests and met all the criteria to practice my craft safely.  I am like every other professional in the field, but I do not care about them, nor them about me. There is no relationship.  They do not care about my everyday.  My life or death is inconsequential.  I will only think of them, when some rule they set dictates that I write them to say I have read your books.  I paid what you asked, please send me my card.  I belong.

I enjoy church more now than I did before, I do go to meet with God now.  I used to go to meet the people He put there because I do not see them any other time.  It was a social event.  I barely made time to talk to God, I would say a few words of thanks when I woke up, while driving and then at random moments in the day.  Oh, and when things get bad of course!  I do read the letters; rarely do I see something new for me.  I know it applies to all of us, but for one watching my hair grow He should say something specific to me, church people call it, “word in season” I used to see those.  Not as often any more.  There is not my whole heart, soul, strength invested in Him.  I can not give an average percentage either. 

He still ‘owns’ my heart, He who speaks and I do not know if I hear.  He is to me the unmentioned, unthanked yet crucial placard without which I cannot be.

Where should I hang it, so I see it and remember?

Beautiful One

Many songs have been written about the beauty of the Lord.  Because I am mostly a man, my whole concept of beauty is physical and partly tainted by sexual attraction.  This has made it extremely difficult for me to imagine 'the beauty of the Lord' as I sing and/or think about it.

I ran yesterday, I ran in the cooling evening.  I ran into a sprinkler and it was wonderful.  As I ran I contemplated on this and suddenly very vivid ideas impinged upon me as I prayed that I would better see and/or comprehend the beauty of an ethereal being from a corporeal point of view.

I saw my mother's face about 24 years ago the morning I woke her and asked for permission to go to church.  She did not look shocked or surprised, but a little pleased.  She got up and helped me and my sister (and others) get ready, made us breakfast and all.  She could have had the maid do it, but she did it herself and saw us off.

I saw Eugene Muzavazi walking the halls at Selbourne Routledge, living his life in a manner that made me want to be like him.  It was the first time I absolutely wanted to be like another person.

I saw my parents let me off scot-free when I would not take part in my grandfathers burial rituals that I was sure were contrary to the Bible.  And then taking my side against their siblings, aunts and uncles.

I saw Youth in Touch camps, events and Sanktifyd Ganxta concerts!!

I saw my grandmothers see me off at the airport and remembered the words of their prayers for me.

I saw Cheryl, Scottie, Chris and Maya, Timmy, Tifiny, Dr Wise and a bunch others who helped me through college.

I saw Christian smile.  Borchards and Dibellas swam about.  Jeremy once again said, "Hey man!  Walk with me, let's talk."  And then my parents were talking to people in my church in Verona.

I saw John, and met Ramona.  I saw Nashe and Nakamura, Phil, Leila, Emily and many faces from the hospital.

In short I saw a collage of people - Xian and otherwise, whose will it was to love me and I glorified Him for it.  I saw events that led me to this moment, and His hand guiding each clock tick.  I saw the dead bird that reminded me that He cares enough to know when each one falls and cares more for me.  I smelt new rain and flowers I do not know, I saw mountains I may never climb and meadows I would love to roll in.  I saw wheat waving in the wind in Stuart Draft and tried to imagine the same thing in the Midwest...

I had to stop.  It was literally overwhelming.

For now, that is the beauty of the Lord, until I can see Him, know Him as I am seen and known.  I think that will do for now.  What does your collage look like?

Shut your Eyes

I love to sleep, we established that ages ago.  So when life is rough that wonderful thing is taken away from me.  Tired as I may get I find that I can not stop long enough to enjoy the only thing (I think) keeps me sane: shutting my eyes and flying...

God's megaphone

C.S. Lewis said, "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." (The Problem of Pain, 1940).  My extra curricular activities have caused some to label me a masochist, a lover of pain.  I beg to differ, but being one who desires to never be categorised I would disagree.  Here is why; I ran 13.1 miles, not a hundred!  I climbed a steep mountain, no a ridge.  It took me all of 2 hours to get up.  It was no Kilimanjaro.  I just like to push my limits.  I sound boring!


I do not enjoy pain.  I have grown to appreciate it.  I remember some war movie guy telling the newbies,  pain is your friend, it tells you when you are dead.  I would rather feel pain than emotions.  Is pain an emotion?  


I refer to physical pain; I can take some.  Physical pain, I think makes and breaks a man.  In training for my little races it hurts.  I have run several pain filled hours, thankfully not all at the same time!  Yet in my mind I rejoice because I know the physiology of building new muscle fibres and all that.  My running pain is a good thing.  I call it exercise pain.  There is also injury pain.  It tells me when to stop lest I destroy what is not easily rebuilt.  When this comes in you are broken.  I will not go into torture.  I know nothing on the subject, but you should get the breaking part.  


Emotional pain, I have nothing.  I have tried to  run it off.  I have tried to numb it with amusement.  When I am done, when I come back 'home' it is still on the couch and filling up the room.  It too makes and breaks.  It is in moments of pain that we run to our truest nature.  The strong grit their teeth, stand and maintain, though they are beaten down they do not budge.  They may crumble and waste a little but they endure longer than others.  The weak, well...they wither, cry and die.  Though some may still walk the Earth, there are dead branches hanging off their frames, and eventually the whole will die.  They that have a Champion, the 'more than conquerors' folks, well they run to their Champion and stand in His shadow and endure forever.  


He rouses us from our lazy slumber by allowing things to bug and bite us.  That we would remember Him, stay close to Him and ever depend on Him.  It makes sense to me.  I do not like it, I wish we learned another way, but we do not.  Its like taxes!  A necessary...pain.  I do not like suffering, but I have this nugget of insight into its physiology.  


I know what I need to do.

When realms collide

The apostle Paul speaks a lot on running the race.  There is a lot of spiritual application in training for a race.  Many things I have recorded that I will not repeat.  Here is a practical report:
I ran today in pain from previous runs.  The goal was 10 miles.  I am training for 13,1 miles on my birthday.  I did not make 3.  My body just could not carry me.  I tried and tried.  My wife ran with me and I did not want her to see me quit.  I threw in the towel.  When I stopped running, I could not restart.  The hill, the whole road pummeled me today.

As I ran, I listened to the Psalms and thought of my spiritual state - in pain, discouraged and really just ready to break down.  Instead of finding comfort and encouragement in the Word, I was happy for David.  I just could not relate.  My story seemed different.  The pain of hope and desires that are not coming to fruition was too much to bear.  My body stopped and my spirit did too.  We both cried out, even to the Lord and I hope He heard.

There is so much I do not get, and I will take one day at a time.  I will be strong maybe victorious some of those days.  His strength sustains me.  There will be days when I cannot stand.  I will fall to my knees and cry like a child, as I did today.  And even then, His strength sustains me.

"I am not blameless before You.  I speak only because I believe Your Word, I shall ever approach Your throne to Your welcome, I speak to You now not as Master and Almighty Go; but as Daddy.  I am tired.  Please carry me on Your shoulders.  So much is hanging and You are silent, distant even.  You aren't doing anything.  Please, please...Help!"

Victory is...

How do you beat an unbeatable foe?  I play video games, in one of my (wife's) hack/slash games there is a 'boss' that when you are not attacking will regenerate.  How do you win?  In another game, car racing this time the challenge is to beat 14 cars in a single lap starting from position 15.  I am driving a Honda Civic, and the cars on the track range from Mini Cooper through RX-8, Nissan GT-R and Audi A8 (or TT)  Did I mention I am driving a Honda Civic!  How do you win?

Many times I have turned this over in my head.  My enemy is stronger than I, period.  He can wait me out, always.  I am flesh and blood, I get tired.  My appetites will get the better of me, no two ways about it, if not today then tomorrow.  I will say no for many many days, but they are not many enough to be all my life...how do I win?

Jesus said to a woman caught in adultery, the same thing He says to us every time we stand before Him to repent (or say sorry because they are different - a procrastinated blog entry) - "...I do not condemn you, go and SIN NO MORE." emphasis mine, John 8.  The man said go and don't do it again.  How do I win?

I feel foolish asking forgiveness sometimes.  Because I know and He knows I will do it again.  My pastor and I think Paul says sin while inside Grace is a slap in the face of said Grace.  How do I win?

I have found no answers, I have no suggestions.  Nothing, just maybes...Maybe victory is not always beating your foe small as the dust and blowing them away.  Maybe victory is not cutting off a giants head to a cheering crowd.  Maybe victory is fighting and getting licked good and proper, and then coming back for more.  Maybe the victory is in the fight and not so much in finishing it on top.  Maybe...I win every time?  Maybe that just helps me sleep better.

How do I win?

"How shall I do this O Lord...?"

Every once in a while my friends and I enjoy these amazing Spiritgasm conversations.  One of us has a question, a problem or just a random statement that has us digging our noggins and by Grace we come to these wonderful nuggets of the knowledge of the Lord, each other and/or ourselves.

I am a word processor; things make more sense in words.  I talk ideas out, (to myself if I have to) problems and solutions too, and so these conversations are wonderful when they happen.  Not often enough I say; but if we had the Z4 everyday it would not be a special day drive now would it?  Familiarity breeds contempt, some dead guy said.  So, what happened...How shall I do this, by living according to your Word?


I always vote for Grace, and this is my defense.  I do not live by His Word when/where it really matters.  At best I try and make a D for effort.  They say He still loves and sometimes I believe that and live loved.  My own study leaves me confused on average and so I plead Grace and trust that it covers ALL things.  "I believe, but help my unbelief."


You know what, that helps, I needed to hear that.


Really?  I must say that is the most honest statement of my faith I think.


I need to remember that His Grace is sufficient and there is nothing I can do to make myself presentable to the Lord.  The price has been paid in full and I should not let my condemnation stop me from approaching His throne in prayer.


Who are you to turn you away from His love?


I just remembered last night in the midst of some dark stuff; Jesus is my friend.  I think of God the Father and tend to forget Jesus though I know full well He died for my sins.


I am glad He can be that.  I focus on the Judge, the Almighty and forget Abba - Daddy dearest.  I forget too that Christ called us His friends.  He is not God in Heaven far far away, He is Immanuel, God with Us here in the dirt.


I need specific direction, and I am going to ask the Lord for it.


He gives not just good gifts, but the best and most necessary things when we ask.  He has a way of giving us our vitamins with our favourite juice!


I am going to go ahead and do that.


So be it.

Woza Friday my skinny bahookey!

Johnny Clegg and Juluka told the story of men who worked hard(er than I have ever done) all week and longed for Friday so much that they would sing, "Come soon Friday my darling...my sweetheart."  I enjoy my work, I enjoy my time off work, but I will not join the 'Living for Friday' bandwagon.

I work all week.  Every morning I grudgingly wake up, grunt until I leave the house.  Wear my cordial face and enter into the workplace.  I have stuff to do, deadlines to meet and the like. It is a literal rat race.  I enjoy it because I know it is necessary and beneficial to more than me and my well being.  Oh, I am good at it too.  That helps.  If I had all the money I would ever need, I would still work.  Just three days a week though, and come in later, maybe 10am.  I sought to be indispensable at my work place, I am as close as I will ever get, love it!  The day ends, I go to my (other) darling.

The weekend comes and the M-F crowd is shouting "Happy Friday!" across the halls.  They have been talking about Friday all week.  By the time it gets here I am tired of hearing how lovely Friday is.  I leave work to go home, do housework, read something beneficial to my Life, spend time with my wife, run and enjoy life...can you see the pressure?  I am NOT good at this part.  I do not relax well, I do not do any of this stuff well.  I enjoy my runs, the time we spend on the couch in the light of the TV etc, but each moment I am evaluating if I am making the most of this life, am I being a good steward of the gifts given to me?  Oh the stress!  By the time the sun goes down on Saturday I am ready for my life to be dictated by Outlook and Meeting Room manager!

My only woza is bedtime.  That I look forward to with longing and no trepidation.  No one needs to tell me its bedtime.  Give me bedtime over Friday any day.  I'll woza it and declare it darling.  Guess what, it comes everyday too!  Not once in every seven, HA!  Bedtime IS all that!

The Time of my Life!

Mary Oliver wrote, "...are you breathing just a little and calling it a life?" Introspection is my default, my screen saver state. When I am not actively processing something, I tend to musing. At times I think of lofty, amazing, enviable things. Many times I think of what could have been, others I am silly, and yet others straight ribald. I do not know when I started checking on whether or not I was Living.

As a child I read a lot and longed for adventure. I came a point were I realised I had enough imagination to make worlds and I did. I learned to speak in different voices, I was asked many times who I was arguing with while I was in a room by myself. As this spilled out of my private life I was told to grow up and eventually I started to do that. I began to strip fact from fiction. Live the fact and fancy the fiction. While I was in my worlds, I lived.

As a teenager I longed to be more daring (I think I still do) I did one thing that (decent as it was) people who know me now have a hard time believing I did. Sanktifyd Ganxtaz was some of the most fulfiling time of my life. I hung out with these guys, performed rap music all around my home town. We held and were invited to concerts and shows...it was great. Then we had to grow up some more, we parted ways. While I was Sanktifyd, I lived.

For the last several decades I have filled my mind with all kinds of ideas. From all these I have distilled the model portions and discarded the base. My ideas of adventure, fun and life have changed and continue to change. I am ever shocked when I realize that my peers are the movers of the world. I look at my 'little' life and with Mary ask if I am breathing at all?

John Eldredge asks, "Do you want a tropical beach or the North Sea?"  Though I have always opted for the North Sea, there are many days when I want a vacation.  Adventure is because it has an inherent danger therein.  A life well and fully lived is fraught with peril and uncertainty, dark days, longs cold nights but, perseverance until victory comes with the morning light.  If Frodo lived and never left the Shire, there would be no story.  Think of it, any story you have read, seen or heard; the good ones had conflict so thick, yet carrying however faint a glimmer of hope for a brighter day.  There would be resolution, catharsis came and soon after it the credits.

This is a somewhat random thought process, but its my blog - I always thought life would be easier if I could physically faces all my troubles.  Granted I am not built like the warrior I think myself; I fancy it might be easier.  When you lick someone good and proper, you walk away and they lay where you left them.  They get up and normally do not bother you anymore.  Ideas and thoughts are not defeated so effectively.  They are never injured.  My enemies are many, potent and patient oh so patient.  Lies alone has been around since the beginning of time, he can always wait me out.  Yet if he was an old man, I would beat him down and by the time he had enough extra strength ibuprofen to get back up I would be long gone.

I love the idea of danger, adventure and a life.  The reality is grueling.  It leaves me eviscerated every time I run the gauntlet - college, MT school, being single and somewhat pure, marriage, now graduate school and the binding theme: walking a life worthy of Christ's calling.  The times of my life, are the ones I never want to relive.  Ironic huh?

The Mental Conveyor

I heard a wonderful sermon. And what was better still, it was all written in a book. So I got a copy of the book and loved it all the more. Many years later, it was buried beneath layers of crap, other sermons and all the stuff of life. Then I went to a Uth conference where the same guy was teaching, how brilliant!

I do not particularly like Uth events which is bad because I am a Uth pastor. Here is the thing, I am one of those not-really-old-but-acts-old guys. I find the exuberance of youth inspiring to watch but it is mostly and quickly exhausting. Like youth they will get silly, eventually annoying and I just want to send the lot to bed. But, I do enjoy watching them have a good time. I step in  as needed to douse the fun. It's what I do, at times it's what I have to do.

On my way from the conference, where I had been reminded of the amazing idea of being a servant like Christ was to His disciples and all mankind; I mean, this is life altering teaching. Stuff I should be contemplating and 'chewing cud' on for yonks, but my self-centered mind could not handle the Truth. So as quickly as it came to me, I found me throwing this salt and light out of every open window and door before it took root. It was a sick, self-destructive conveyor belt. Of doom! Throwing out the mediocre with the excellent! By the time I got home it had almost emptied my noggin.

So I got home and picked up the book again, listened to the recording of the book and will keep looking at the notes I made so that it fills my mind and out of the content of my heart, my mouth would speak and my being behave so I can be just like Jesus.

When you are with me, I'm free

My college girlfriend decided Creed's My Sacrifice would be 'our song.' I didn't care. I liked the song too, it was no sacrifice. At this time of my life I had a recurrent fight dream. I have had many more since, this one started it and I showed reruns many times over. It sticks in my mind so I added a soundtrack...

We are walking through downtown Someplace, headed home after a movie or something. The sky is a lovely dark blue ink. There are little stars getting brighter as we walk further from town. I turn and notice three guys following us. I note their presence in my James Bond file and we keep walking. They make our every turn, stop when we stop, without a doubt we are being followed.

We walk faster and almost immediately they react. They start to run. I grabbed her hand and we ran casually, I told her I was anxious to get home and she went along with it. After a bit I picked up the pace and had to tell her we were being followed.

'Don't be sacred, just run.'

So run we do and try to lose them to no avail. They are on us like stink to a warthog. We run to a school (I know now to be were I attend church, had never been there at the time.) They are after me, so I tell her to hide as soon as we get on the grounds. I run into the school, crash through a glass door, down the corridor and into a classroom. They walk into the classroom after me. I stop, breathe and yell.

'Stay in the closet.'

I stood in front of the closet door and faced them. They take the bait.

The three goons come toward me. One of them has a stick, he slaps it on his hand repeatedly to my great annoyance. The other sniggers like a hyena out of Lion King. To complete to comic effect the big one growls. I smile. I know it is about to get physical. Oh well...bring the pain. I hear the grunt behind the toss, then the flying chair. It crashes next to me, the pieces fall to the floor. I pick up a pair, they fit perfectly. It has begun.

The Big One! Blast, the big ones always come first. He roars towards me. Time slows, I turn. The moon is up, the stars twinkle as if winking at me.

'Go ahead' they say, 'get it over with.'

I smile. Fragrant flowers fall to the ground. They smell so good. He keeps roaring, hope he does not run out of breath. I keep my head turning right so the Big One's fist crashes into the closet door. It does not budge. Impressive workmanship. He is jarred to his very core, so I help to shake him up some more. The chair pieces in my hand met his jaw and oh snap! He will be on a liquid diet for many days. He comes back for seconds, with seconds. I duck and this time meet his flabby gut. The groan is satisfactory, and as I rise my head, his jaw, again. Higher pitched sound. While his hands tend his face I finish with a well placed knee that sends him on his knees. Ahh, room to exhale. A neat kick to the chest and he is sprawled amidst his gaping fellows.

Why do goons attack one at a time? It is illogical, especially if the big one is taken out first - incoming stick. Whoa! It whistles, some strength behind it. The still intact chair catches it. My turn for jarring, I feel it in my teeth. Not pleasant. I decide to dispatch him directly. His stick breaks on the chair, the momentum of his attack causes him to bow. I send him a knee of welcome and simultaneously put a bit of chair in his spine. He squeals and crumples into a mass of writhing agony. He will not rise unassisted. One down, one and a half to go.

The hyena remains. He has some smarts, he looks at his fellows and steps back to muster himself. In the mean while in the corner of my eye I see her get up and run back towards town. She will be fine. It was never about her anyway. She turns in my direction, as if to face me though she cannot see me. I will her to get away, and she hears me.

He has gathered his resolve and he comes howling, I am sure now he is the Hyena boy. He will not giggle after I have met him. I am unarmed, so is he. He introduces himself with a sloppy kick. I easily dodge the foot. He thunks into the glass. It does not break, how feeble. As his body follows his foot I turn and push him further and his face does the trick. The cool outside air rushes in. The flowers smell so good. They clear the smell of blood and anger out of the room, almost poetic save for whimpering goons. He catches himself on a pillar supporting the overhang. He takes raspy breaths and spits a bloody mess. His hand goes to his face to wipe the red out of his eyes. Hyena boy is smart, he looks once, looks twice and turns to run.

She has gone home. She will be up late worrying. She knows not to call anyone, well she will call her mom. The night is young. I feel energized. I have to know what this is about. As Hyena boy stumbles away I give chase. It is my turn to hunt. He hears me laugh behind him and tries to straighten up to run. The knock to his head was a good one, his world is spinning. This will be fun.

I wake up with a maniacal smile in cold sweat. I know I will pull through. After all its just a Microbiology final.

Trestling

Of all the colours in creation, I chose the grays. The spots in between all absorbing and all reflecting. Like clouds brimming with rain drops, ready to burst. That is where you will find me. My niece will be in pink, my wife in blue and Elyod in peach!

I learned of trestling today, it is standing on the trestles under a railway bridge. So when the train passes overhead, it is inches away from you! You feel the train more than you hear it. You smell it. You experience it in all its immensity. It sounds dangerous, I think that is the thrill. The danger is the risk of the train falling through the bridge and crushing you, chances are slim. If that happens...what blasted luck you have!

As I watched this in a movie I noted the actor screaming with joy, yet she uncannily showed all the sorrow through the cracks. It made me remember how many times I have run ragged, hung off a cliff face, and whatever else I do to make my hair blow back, in an effort to bury the things that are trying to burst out. The dark yearnings that ever strive to bolt out and consume me. My self pitying is overfed, it is tough to say poor me during or after 10 miles. So I should run on, find more cliffs, ride to the beach and later down the West coast. Sometimes I do what I do so that adrenaline washes out self and all his rubbish.

I want to go trestling, maybe I will go, "Wahoo!"

Twenty-ten or Two thousand ten

Happy New Year...meaning what? Is it like happy birthday, 'Wow! You made it another year" or like happy Valentine's day? Thank you Hallmark. What exactly does 'ringing in the New Year' mean?

For most people around me it seems to be a celebration of their amazing achievement: living through another year. Unfortunately it ends there, because the next statement is not so bold, "...and hoping for the best in the coming year." Here is my problem; if you are such a big shot you pound your chest for living through a whole solar cycle, then doing it again is a walk in the park. Unless in that last statement we are being honest, and confessing that our celebration is a confectionery boast covering a stubborn truth: we did not make it this far by our wits.

So if we remove the icing, we should be 'celebrating' prostrate before the Lord or whom/whatever we ascribe our being because THEY have maintained us through another year. The cosmic swirlie did not sink us this time. Our life preserver/raft/yacht is holding up in the galactic toilet bowl and we have not yet been flushed. I say 'yet' because our turn is coming. Those who departed in a whirlpool did so not because they are of lesser resolve or inferior breeding. Their time came as will yours and mine. There is a flush with your name on it. When it comes, I hope for your sake whom/what you ascribe your life to will be able to carry you across with lungs full of air. So when you bow there, you bow in reverence alone and not in fear and trembling.

Thank you LORD of Hosts, for bringing me thus far. You maintain me by Your right hand. It is by Your strength that I stand here, not by my strength or wits. Not by me Lord, but by Your gracious Spirit. I celebrate Your grace and long suffering towards me. Be glorified in me.

Happy New Year.