Ramblings

The clouds have been gray and heavy this week. It’s a blessing after weeks of 100-degree and 90-degree weather in a sea of asphalt. Weather has always fascinated me. It’s one of those things in life that we have little direct control over. It comes. It goes. It radically reshapes life in a moment.

My life feels just as uncertain sometimes these days. I know I have two hands to help people. I know I’m trying to act wisely to serve people. But I can’t predict how the lives of these people that I talk to each day will change. I have great, tested faith that my writing produces change a world away a year at a time. But even that requires a good measure of faith in God that good will result from our most diligent efforts.

It reminds me of friends I wrote about today. In the southern reaches of their country, they currently are far from the war and fighting that tore their lives apart for decades. But in 3 short years, they know that the fighting will very likely return. The temporary peace will shatter. When? How? Few are certain.

What wisdom does a man in that community have to share with me at this time in life? What insight does a life full of few certainties but dread have for me? Some days I wish I could ask. Till then, God provides and I receive the crumbs from a master’s table that sustain a life full of blessing.

I’ve lived in the world of non-profits for most of my life, so I know how important it is to tell the story of success and progress. I know how important it is to illustrate real change resulting from one’s work.

But tonight as thoughts swirl, I reflect on the beauty of the “almost.”

In the almost, we see what could be.
In the almost, we see something greater than here.
In the almost, we see the seeds of something that could change everything.

And I tend to think that many folks need that “almost” almost as much as they need the dreamed of thing to happen. They need that belief that something greater is to come and be energized to act in a way that accentuates the beauty of what is to come.

It could be why we so often show pictures of the runner breaking the tape, of football players making the catch and olympians straining to win. For a moment, we join with them in their passion and desire. For a moment, we are longing for something together. The gold medal, the award, the trophy… they’ll come soon enough. For now, we are hoping for the almost that is just out of reach… and it’s amazing.

This morning I had the privilege of listening to a Mayan man from Guatamala who was sharing about the positive changes he’s seeing in his community. Husbands are showing their wives more respect. Local leaders are respecting the value of indigenous languages.

So when I stumbled across babbel [via] (a web language learning program) today, I was already thinking about the multitude of languages out there. “Oh, they teach Spanish, French, Italian… but wait… what kind of Spanish do they teach?”

Certainly there is a growing recognition that major languages (including English) have very different expressions in different countries. You can search for “learn Latin American Spanish” and hit a few resources. But search for “learn Guatamalan Spanish” and the results are pretty sparse save for opportunities in Guatamala.

It’s not a matter of right and wrong, but I look forward to an ever-growing recognition that we live in a complex world with many beautiful languages and styles of speaking those languages–all of great value.

30 years ago
I entered the world
God was kind

29 years ago
I began the life of a pastor’s son in a church community I still love
God was kind

25 years ago
I slept on a rug in Mrs. Landau’s class
God was kind

20-some years ago
I realized how much I loved writing in English class
God was kind

12 years ago
I served people on the streets of Chicago
God was kind

8 years ago
I walked across the stage, name in hat
God was kind

7 years ago
I showed up with two bags in California to help people translate the Bible
God was kind

6 years ago
I met amazing friends who I welcomed newcomers with
God was kind

4 or so years ago
I traveled the desert with my mother, a Camry, a roof-top carrier and tires that didn’t make it
God was kind

3 or so years go
I found another part of my family through a pastel website
God was kind

1 or so years ago
I learned the encouragement of serving those in need
God was kind

1 or so years ago
Some folks thought I should be given the gift of ordination
God was kind

Today, this journey may end. Each day I’ve lived I’ve tried to remember it may be my last. But God is kind and has provided what I’ve needed this far. And till that time when life is over I pray I’ll have a bit more energy to help a few more people.

It’s one of the hardest parts of my week. Each weekend, I pull up to the shelter and my friend and I spend the last few minutes of our conversation saying as many encouraging things as I can. Meanwhile, my heart is breaking… again.

I’ve spent many days in the past few years trying to help friends in need. Some are clearly in physical or emotional need. Some have needs that are hidden a bit deeper. Sometimes my efforts are well-appreciated. Sometimes outsiders seem quick to judge what they perceive as my lack of truly caring.

My friend is a special case. I’ve walked a long ways with him and he’s taught me things even in the midst of his struggles. Many nights I want to skip all the red tape and let my friend crash on the futon in my living room. A softer bed, a bit more freedom and a stress-free environment–these golden things I so often take for granted–they are denied him regularly. And when it’s all written out on paper, it’s clear I can’t change that right now.

But every weekend we sit facing each other, pouring over classifieds, worries, want ads and questions about God. And on those days I try to do the impossible, praying all the while. At each corner, we face the problems together and it seems we barely keep pace.

This past week I sat with another friend and I realized just how hard this has been personally. It’s like seeing my brother in pain and being unable to end it. It’s a regular, emotional struggle that I keep giving to God in prayer.

Some days that encourages me.

Some days I’m desperate for it to end for both of us.

Generations ago, people who worked for various social or non-profit causes were strange individuals. They were uniquely aware of the needs around the world, sitting with the starving child or holding the hand of people who had lost hope. How could they be normal after seeing so much need? It was the strange people who would constantly be thinking, “How many more am I able to help?”

But with the advent of modern information technology and infrastructure, I see that changing every day. Whether you go to the store, your favorite social networking site or your favorite TV program, there is a presentation of the world’s needs everywhere today.The question for even the average person is no longer, “Is there need?” Now, everyone is asking, “How many more am I able to help?”

Are we preparing our children, our young men and women and the people we influence for this new reality? It’s not enough anymore to teach someone to manage their own things. We need to teach them how to make the most of their ability to help other people in an increasingly connected world.

Thirty-some years ago, they rode the whirling machine, holding tight with change flying. Thirty-some years ago, they held tight, hoping a someday would come. Thirty-some years ago, someday seemed forever away and imminent all at once. Thirty-four years ago, my father and mother committed to a life of love and passion and service and struggle–together.

In coming days, good friends will stand in front of a crowd and make a commitment to each other. It’s been a journey I’m sure. Good things never come easy and the best rarely come without difficulty. But from what I know of my friends, they’ve done everything they can to honor God and each other along the way. They’ve talked through what it means to commit for life and agreed to step into the unknown–together.

I was back home to celebrate my parents’ anniversary in a small, belated way this past week. We returned to the amusement park where they had their first date and rode the ride that tossed the contents of my mom’s purse everywhere. Stealing a moment, they kissed and we took pictures. It was a private time between them and two of their children–all alone in the crowd but together.

I hadn’t been able to spend much time with her. Pennsylvania is a long ways from Texas and my time back there is often far too short. So when I had the chance to sit down with J for a bit of tea, I was really glad.

Sharing a thermos, we unfolded the red checkered blanket, unpacked the plates and cups and sat on the ground. Tea isn’t really my thing but everything was good and it was clear that the food was just an excuse to spend time.

Sometimes you need to have times like this. A little shared food, plenty of time and no agenda. I don’t know if J will remember our time together years from now. She’s only a couple years old and likes to wrestle as much as share invisible tea. But I’ve been told there is a Turkish proverb that if you share coffee together you are committing to 40 years of friendship. If that applies
to tea, I think I’ve got a friend for life.

This post originally appeared on my other blog “Learning to Live Together.” For the next while, posts will appear both places and on my Myspace blog to better connect with a variety of friends. Feel free to make your home where you like and thanks for your interest!

It happened again today. I was leaving the shop and got the distinct impression that a new friend could use some of my time. Label it what you want, something, perhaps even God, gave me the distinct impression I needed to go back as I crossed the intersection.

One u-turn, awkward introduction and prayer together later I was sitting with a guy I don’t think I’ve ever met before. We talked about life, about challenges and about hope. I left him with my number and the knowledge that people… that God cared about him and his family.

If I’m going to really help reconcile with each other and see hope for life, I need to sit on more sidewalks. I need to sit in little Mexican restaurants. I need to wander the back alleys of whatever town I’m in.

Voxtropolis has been a great place to meet a number of new friends over the years. At the same time it’s been somewhat of a walled garden where most folks I meet are roughly like me. That’s a hard thing to combat, and to be fair, I haven’t fought that much myself. Honestly, it’s one more thing I probably just don’t have time for right now.

For the next while I’ll be posting here and copying many posts over to Myspace where my relatives hang out.

I’ll still be around now and again, but won’t likely post much more here. Thanks for caring enough to read what I’ve written.

won’t it be cool when just about all phones can do things like this?

I was reminded again this week that in giving ourselves away we receive. In losing our rights to have it all the way we like, we gain a richness to life. In serving other people, we often find that they are the ones serving us.

The Office is one of those shows that I didn’t bother watching for the first season. My schedule was busy and it just wasn’t worth the effort to be at home one night each week at the same time by myself. With the availability of full television episodes online though, I’ve been able to connect with some of the best TV I’ve seen in a while. (MASH is a rerun so it probably doesn’t count.)

There’s typically a lot of quirky humor in The Office, but they manage to share some real humanity in the process as well. The most recent episode in particular shared some moments of empathy and love that felt very genuine. They only lasted a moment, but they were worth a hundred “touching” sitcom moments.

Click the photo above or here to watch a clip from the recent episode that I think illustrates my point somewhat. Or click here to watch the entire episode online.

I was there but not there
I was on the road home
But headed nowhere familiar

I could have sworn I was driving on Pennsylvania highways this morning. Fog this thick is rare in these parts.

What is it about light and heat and temperature that make things feel off? Why do we create thermometers with horse heads and mouse pads with Chinese characters?

These are the things that I know… but I don’t know. They are the mystery that haunts the edge of life. We desire comfort… but why do I desire this particular comfort to feel “right?” We enjoy creativity and whimsy… but why this style or that even when we are nearly alone in our appreciation?

Sometimes I feel like I know at once both everything and nothing.

I’m still processing this past weekend’s trip to serve the poor with mi familia en México, but this quote was worth sharing…

The way for a young man to rise is to improve himself every way he can, never suspecting that anybody wishes to hinder him. Allow me to assure you that suspicion and jealousy never did help any man in any situation. There may sometimes be ungenerous attempts to keep a young man down; and they will succeed, too, if he allows his mind to be diverted from its true channel to brood over the attempted injury. Cast about, and see if this feeling has not injured every person you have ever known to fall into it.

Abraham Lincoln

From a Letter to William H. Herndon. Washington, July 10, 1848

Or as said by another wise person a few years before…

These court cases are an ugly blot on your community. Wouldn’t it be far better to just take it, to let yourselves be wronged and forget it? All you’re doing is providing fuel for more wrong, more injustice, bringing more hurt to the people of your own spiritual family.

Paul

From a Letter to the Christ followers in Corinth

I don’t pretend to know all of what this means for you, but it’s a reminder to me that I get nowhere by holding on to past hurts. It’s in forgiving and loving each other that progress comes.

Lovers of culture and language like me will want to check out this unique look at a child’s understanding of language. Read the second paragraph especially.

And read my previous post about the UN’s celebration of the International Day of Peace today. Even a skeptic like me, can do their bit to encourage harmony and love.

Last week was truly an amazing gift. Few have the opportunity to spend a few days away in an isolated part of Texas with their books and their tools for writing and solitude in a place where God feels evident. Changes will come slowly, but they will come. It’s time to get moving again.

In the mean time, listen to this story to get a taste of the tragic plight that our brothers and sisters face.

Life and especially work has picked up lately so I’ve had to allow my writing here to come to low boil. As this blog is more a passing fancy of writing and occasional interaction, I feel comfortable with that. You can always contact me at Facebook or at MySpace as they suit you.

it should be how to learn, as Stephen, my friend, shares:

It’s not always easy learning something new, but it’s important if I am going to continue to be a productive leader in my family and culture.  read more>>

Read more thoughts from Stephen here.

I’ve mentioned the Dallas Progress blog before, but I had to point back to the work of Michael Davis again when I saw his most recent post on an apartment complex in Dallas without working air conditioning. If you live in the area, you know how serious that is with temperatures coming up on 100 in the next few days.

As time goes on, I think my blogging needs to start looking something more today’s post. Many in largely-white, evangelical, missional circles of faith in Christ are saying great things about community involvement and love, but doing far too little advocacy on behalf of the hurting.

I’m continually fascinated by life of every shape and size. This lizard was so intent on getting warm that he stopped to pose for a picture.

One of our regional papers, The Star Telegram, had a great story recently on how two strangers met through an accident. After a collision with a car left Mark Evans bleeding and unable to move, Tommy Crumpton was among the first at the scene with first-aid kit in hand and a hug for Mark’s wife when she showed up. Tommy stayed in touch after the accident as well, eventually being assigned as Mark’s physical therapist.

What I find most compelling about the article is the way they end the story.

Although Mark does not remember much about the accident, he knows that if Tommy had not been there, things would be different now.

“He didn’t stay in his yard, he didn’t just stand by and watch,” Mark said. “He took charge and tried to make things OK.”

He did that and more.

“If you keep your eyes and ears open sometimes you find out that the world really is a small place,” Mark said. “You find out there really are no strangers after all.”

Forget all those obtuse, metaphysical posts. This is what love is.

God grant me gift to see the mistakes I’ve made and the grace to forgive such things in others.

I’m back listening to an electronica cd I’ve had for a while. Some dismiss electronica as background music abstraction, but I like to think of it as musical impressionism. There is an attempt to communicate a sense of space and life and emotion with a collection of sounds that might at first seem unrelated and broken.

[Unseenmachine]
[Unseenmachine on myspace]

It ended today. Lingering… Gone. And you, the provider the always, were there. You were not there

How could you be? Could you affirm me for me? Could you process the pain?
Could you comfort me with a gentle touch? Could you talk me down when this comes back to mind again?

I have faith that You can. But your people… your people that I love… they give me hollow, repetitious phrases. Who has courage enough to speak how your immaterial love meets the material? Who will tell me how the sexual being is made complete without sex? I have faith that You can. But your people… your people that I love… are silent.

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Wide Angle is a documentary series on life around the world and specifically issues faced by various communities in the developing world. I always encourage critical evaluation, but do take the time to dig into the life of people in other countries. Most of the episodes are available to watch free online.

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Over the years, I’ve never been a classic “geek” in the truest sense of the word, but I have some crazy innate desire to learn about everything that sometimes comes close enough. Today, that meant I spent a few minutes of rest time looking up the modern day usage of the Spanish pronoun “usted.”

The short layman summary is that there are at least two words used throughout the Spanish-speaking world for “you.” One is more formal and the other is generally more intimate in a non-sexual way.I’ve heard from a source or two that the more formal “usted” was on its way out in some places in favor of the more friendly “tu.” Which made me think (like others) about our English changeover from using “thee” and “thou” to “you.”

Is there a changing sense of how formally we relate to each other that’s seen in a language change like this? I think it’s safe to say “yes” in English, but what if this truly is a more global phenomena as the article linked to above and others suggests?

Does this change in thinking reflect a greater ease and sense of respect ? Or does it reflect a decreasing sense of respect for the innate of others? Or is there some dynamic linked to the industrial revolution that is still occurring in developing parts of the world? I’m curious.

Update from a French teacher: Yes, in french there is a formal you “VOUS” and an common you “TU”.  “VOUS” is always used if you don’t know the person or if the person is older than you (senior respect).  

I have to say this is something I never expected to see. A Chinese buffet within about fifteen minutes of my house is up for sale on E-Bay. I guess this kind of thing has happened before, but the world really is changing.

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It’s becoming common knowledge, but many don’t know so I’ll share it here. The Simple Way, most often associated with Shane Claiborne and the book Iresistable Revolution was swept up in a community fire. No one was hurt, but the communal living group and eight families lost their homes and many of their possessions. Read more and watch a video here.

Folks not familiar with the philosophy of the group may want to stop here. I’m not sure we all need to live out their principles in the way they do, but they do have worthwhile things to say.

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Powerful people harass me without cause,
but my heart trembles only at your word.
I rejoice in your word
like one who discovers a great treasure.
I hate and abhor all falsehood,
but I love your instructions.
I will praise you seven times a day
because all your regulations are just.
Those who love your instructions have great peace
and do not stumble.
I long for your rescue, Lord,
so I have obeyed your commands.
I have obeyed your laws,
for I love them very much.
Yes, I obey your commandments and laws
because you know everything I do

I am regularly struck by the great number of passages in the Bible that speak about peace in the middle of great frustration and true pain. There is still a lot of this that I’m learning to understand.

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You’ve heard me talking about this before, but today the M folk are pointing people back their way. Why not stop by and meet the fam?

I love scheming for good causes. . .

Learning to rest well is one of those lessons I’m still learning. So when a friend shared that rest days are crucial to a runner’s success in a charity run training e-mail I was intrigued. He explained more in a follow-up e-mail.

“Rest days are important in that they allow your body(muscles) to recover after a particularly hard run. Running puts a severe amount of stress on your body. Without rest days, your body is more prone to injury which means you will have many more unwanted rest days trying to heal, which means your training will suffer.

Your body will also try to compensate if you are running injured and your running form will change, which than can cause new problems. So in that context, rest days can be one of the most important part of your training, which is, avoiding injuries, which is key to running a successful marathon.”

I have to think there’s a lesson for me to learn here.

Some of you may be aware that I work for a global non-profit that helps people in other countries translate the Bible for their own people groups. A portion of my work is supported by some fine folks in Pennsylvania from my home town who I don’t communicate nearly enough with.

Today by linking with some of them via Facebook (and thereby this blog), I’m hoping to take another step towards recognizing all that they’ve meant to me and all that I’ve been able to do with their help, whether in Texas, California, Voxtropolis or around the world. All that to say, I hope you see a few new faces around here soon or can at least count a few more quiet visitors.

I’ve made attempts at a site focused on that relationship and my work here.
You can say hello via facebok here.

In doing this, I need to give the standard disclaimer. My words on this blog and in many places do not reflect the opinions of my workplace, my church or anyone but me. Take everything I say with a grain of salt. I think it’s healthy to ask many questions, and I’m very comitted to living out faith in Christ and loving people. They go hand-in-hand I think.

The conversation continues with a good article by Dawn at Relevant Magazine. You may find some of the earlier conversation familiar as she shared some or her thoughts in a comment on my last post. It’s a recurring topic for her. You should make a point to seriously read and not skim it though. There are some especially worthwhile quotes like this:

“The purpose of art is not necessarily to provide the answersâ€â€?it’s much more powerful to ask the questions and allow an audience to seek the answers themselves. Jesus promised that those who seek will find, and we should trust him. He meant it when he said it.”

In essence, Dawn suggests that art is sometimes the modern equivalent of the parable. It’s an interesting suggestion and perhaps one that’s not far from the mark.

It makes me think again about how we share truth in other contexts. In much of US Christian culture, preaching answers for specific problems has become paramount. There’s no question it’s valuable, modeled by many in the Bible and needed. Perhaps though it’s worthwhile to ask ourselves again: “Is this the right way to share truth here and now?” If we were in error in forcing all art to be expository then perhaps our mentoring relationships, our small groups or our discipling contexts need re-evaluation as well.

Join In:
What do you think of Dawn’s perspective in the article?
What place do you think parable-style teaching has in the current context you live in?

What blue moon day was the birth of deeper awareness? What sunrise marked the beginning? I hardly know. But knowing makes the difference. Knowing you don’t know changes the world.

Blowing breeze, the stir of a million invisible atoms, raises hairs and heightens moods. The grand becoming grandiose. The pain becomes growth. The Divine becoming The Source.

Gnarled bark, the battered armor that coats beauty, is beauty itself. It shows me the movement and the life in cold places. It helps me see beyond the shadow of skin and pain.

Cool water, the clear blood of earth, webs time. Ancient bathwater becomes sustenance. African, Asian, American — all drink from the same well… or don’t… and are shaped by it.

The great masters have claimed that open minds reveal hidden mysteries, but today I think they missed their mark. Open hearts change worlds.

Get Moving: It’s Adria’s birthday today. Make sure you stop by and share something encouraging — the more specific the better.

Looking up at the bottom of gray clouds carried here by the cold north winds, I can’t think of a time when the phrase has been more appropriate. I’ve been battling a cold for the past two weeks or so with varying degrees of intensity.

My most honest gut response is that I don’t need this. I’m in about the busiest period of my life to this point, personally, professionally and spiritually. But with equal honesty, I’m realizing today that I don’t really know if that’s true. Maybe I really do need to reminder that God is the one I need to rely on as I work these things out.

This morning, as I read the first portions of Sophocles’ Antigone, I stumbled upon a great quote. Isemene is speaking to her sister Antigone who is going to bury her dead brother, something the king refuses to allow and Isemene fears to do. As they part, Isemene praises her.

Go, if you must–Not to be checked in folly,
But sure unparalleled in faithful love!

Am I willing to do what seems foolish or wrong when a higher duty calls?

[start reading Antigone with me]
[read more about Antigone]
[read more about Sophocle]

The lines aren’t quite right, but I was trying to capture the squares that I saw here. The suggested absence of the fourth side was something I haven’t seen in previous trips. How often do we only realize the absence of things after multiple visits? How often do we make time for multiple visits so that we can see what isn’t immediately obvious?

As I explored the DFW Metroplex a bit more today, I came across the Garden of Angels in Hurst, a city north of Arlington. This hill was the site of a tragic murder of a 19-year-old girl. Today, many others are buried alongside her in tribute.

It’s a bit unnerving to walk amongst the graves of young children, which I guess, is a sign that I’m mentally stable. And to think, many more children than this are dying each day as child soldiers and due to drought and malnutrition.

There’s something about a dark, empty office that feels like home to me some nights. It’s late Thursday and I have no particular place to be so I’ve turned on the music, turned down the lights and I’m happily typing away. It’s the click of the keys. It’s the sound of music on cheap speakers. It’s me reliving late nights sitting in the church office with my dad.

That’s the way it is for me. Home isn’t a place. It isn’t a city or a state or a country. It’s a late night drive on a dark, winding road. It’s a late night at the office. It’s watching old movies on network television. It’s talking with my family. It’s laughing with my friends. It’s getting the job done for hurting people.

It’s been a week full of heavy thinking for me as I experience some healthy adjustments in the life of Mosaic and work. New leaders are taking their place in both worlds and it’s high time to ponder the future with their help. Sadly, this means that one more post is added to the “Drafts” pile. Expect a post or more on contemplative practices and meditation sometime soon here.

Your Drafts: Intimate Divinity: , Knowing God, Post # 351, madness and inspiration, Sweet Overdrive, Now this is an excellent prank, Word Count: -89, More Stories, Passing Around the Voxtropolis Albums, Focus, Letting Others Lead Pt 2, Christmas Ponderings Among Friends, Separated at Birth?, Strength in Our Weakness, “Needs” , and 6 more » .

Till then, continue to enjoy some good music with me. And certainly, if you know the purpose of my my personal journey or the next step I should take in any one of a number of areas, feel free to share, ha.

It’s hardly a new quote, but it’s a great one:

“Where there is no love, nothing is possible.”

Patrick Stewart, though most known to many of us for a Star Trek television series, is a great Shakespearean actor. In these two videos, he demonstrates how actors can lend different meanings to the same words through tone and timing.

  

—–

for those who can’t read my handwriting words crawl under my skin irritating my ever position aggitating me clamoring cramming pushing  down into finger finger finger and thumb Like cartoon broncos learning Walt’s lesson no good word is born tamed every good word is trained

my feelings this week

amazing stories [1] [2] [3]

inovation The new constellations I feel amazed

I uploaded a couple of photos today. Not much special. It’s just a few captures of life recently. It’s been quite a journey in the last few weeks. So many good times. So many moments of question. So many moments of hope.

Today I’m reminded that the words unsaid are sometimes as much a mark of maturity as the words unsaid. I need to remember that more often.

If you read one blog post today, it should be a very personal post by Lon on love and the consequences of not expressing it to others. As I say in the comments, I’ve been challenged this week again that remaining neutral is not an option for people following Christ.

The wounds that run too deep to heal
The scars now hidden
Buried deep
Would you come quickly to reveal
Break their hold
And sweeten sleep 

It’s happened many times that I don’t see the interweaving of God’s wisdom until it is on top of me. A number of days ago when I read the words of Paul in his second letter to a Greek church in present-day Turkey about how causing sorrow that lead to change is a good thing, I knew it was significant. But I expected God was teaching me how to lead other people by saying hard things sometimes.

And tonight, when I’m exhausted from two stressful weeks of good work I see it come back around in a new light as I consider the hidden fears I feel that drive some of my actions. We all have these. Lust is so often driven by our own feelings of inadequacy in ways that extend far beyond sex. Hesitancy to try new things is often built on some past failure.

Tonight, I see that some of my attempts to please people are built on that same sting of past failure. I push myself to do tons of things in part because it is pleasing to God, but also in part because I have this delusion that my failure to be perfect is at the root of some of my every-so-often unhealthy dissatisfaction.

What gets so tricky, I think, is that none of these things (drive to do better, dissatisfaction with a messed up world, doing many things that point back to God’s glory) are wrong. So it can be hard for others to help me work through this stuff, because they just assume the best of me and think that by discouraging this self-reflection they’ll point me to a place of peace. When in reality I need them to be serious with me to the point of clearing out the unhealthy fears that are productive over the short-term, but killers over the long-term.

The truth I am reminded of tonight by a regular Bible reading e-mail is on two-levels. First, God will continue to provide my needs as I give up my whims for lasting love and truth. And second, that I will never finish my work in this life, but the pursuit of the Kingdom of God is something that supersedes these short-term goals I still pursue and has an attainable end.

If you become an exceptional World War I flying ace and meet an attractive women who loves you despite the fact that you refuse to learn her language, don’t choose THE ENTIRE CITY OF PARIS as your rendezvous point after the war.

It was a fun movie, just not all that cohesive at points.

What happens when Hamlet ponders the intricacies of You Tube posting?

What happens when Romeo and Juliet live out their soap opera lives on the Jerry Springer stage like modern couples?

Click the pictures to find out.

God will bless people who are ravenous and parched for a life that God wants. They will be given enough to fill even their large stomachs. (personal paraphrase of Jesus words in Matthew5:6)

I’ve been reading through Matthew 5 this week as part of a daily e-mail I get. Today Matthew 5:6 struck me, especially in the Old English translation of the KJV. I want that kind of a drive. I will make times for rest and I will make time for important people in my life, that’s part of the pursuit of a life that God wants. I just want to embrace these moments and the moments of action on behalf of the poor and hurting with energy and life and passion.

This week, that means making a few extra phone calls to connect with guys who I have some influence with. And it means getting some nitty-gritty stuff done that I don’t really enjoy. Pray with me that I’ll embrace phone calls I enjoy and seemingly tedious things with passion and an eye for the long-term outcomes.

My friend Curby pointed me to a great piece of music humor on You Tube that you should check out. I don’t have enough of an ear to tell you how true it is, but it is fun. If you want more, you should check out my friend, Victor. One of my good grandparent memories is watching videos of Victor on the holidays, though we didn’t usually see him with the Muppets.

I care about your people… your life…

While reading Hermann’s most recent post, I was struck once again with how much I prefer blog posts that engage the human sides of who we are. I can’t say I always do that. I get philosophical like the next person, but I was reminded in a meeting last night that good leadership means engaging with the people you lead on an emotional level.

Will my friend who is still learning more about God ever see what it means to live a passionate life of love for God and others if I don’t cry or laugh deeply?

Will the writers, photographers and designers I have some influence on at work and elsewhere really see that I value creativity until I act “foolish” in the pursuit of art that expresses my heart when moved by God?

So take a moment and read about the things that matter here in Voxtropolis. Hope together, get dirty together, get excited about God’s work together, laugh together, wonder a bit more and remember.

Take a huge gulp of life with me… with us. Those strategies will keep.

than to wake up and listen to some classic jazz (Billie Holiday anyone?) with the lights still low and a laptop underneath my fingers. Now if I just had a cup of coffee…

This morning I took time to rest. For me, that usually means quietly reading a good book, getting out to the park or exploring.

There is something supremely satisfying and restful about not having to be anywhere at a certain time and not having to go in any one direction. In my Chicago years, I had many such times. I would wonder up and down various city streets, sometimes just walking towards a new skyscraper I had never been to before. In Pennsylvania, I think this was long hikes in the woods with a chill still in the air. In California, it meant going to a rugged beach away from the OC crowds and wondering along as the cold water lapped the coast.

Here in Dallas, I’ve found a few places like the ones I’ve explored on this trip. But they’re too distant to go quickly and it’s been many weeks since I experienced that kind of rest - far too long. I hoping this weekend to get two such trips in.

Our sense of self identity is a funny thing, both reflecting true parts of who we are, hopes that we don’t yet fully live and archetypes that we’re told are what we’re seeking to become. I’m thinking about that a little more as I watch the movie Invincible with my roommate and his girlfriend and remembering similar feelings when I watched the most recent Rocky movie.

Even though I’ve never lived in Philadelphia or been a serious fan of either the Eagles or Rocky movies, I feel a part of things when I see these movies that  talk about my home state. I like the quiet, hard-working underdog type that I imagine to be in the heart of what it means to be a good Pennsylvanian like the romanticized coal miner or rail workers like my ancestors that defined the state for generations.

And tonight I think. Maybe sometimes it doesn’t matter if  is who we are or who we hope to be or who we are told we should be when those things are good and true and when we are doing are best to pursue them continually.

You should read this post by a local blogger. I love the heart and passion.

finally getting the albatross off your neck with energy enough to get back in the race. Tonight, in collaboration with a great group of friends, I got a big community responsibility 99% done and it feels very good. Yes! <Rocky pump of the fist>

Ok, enough of that. It’s time to take off a few more necklaces.

It’s mid-January in Texas and the first signs of real snow and ice are showing up. Of course, it’s the kids who are most excited. Most of the parents are trying hard not to have accidents on their way to work, ha.

If you haven’t already, you should stop by Maria’s recent post on making better use of our resources. Not much of a environmental nut? I don’t think you have to be to care about this stuff.

Many of the things Maria shares will save you money and help your neighborhood. Others will help you demonstrate to your environmentally-focused neighbors that you care about what they care about. And how often did Jesus do that for us - caring about the things that we care about as a demonstration that He was here for us and was here to serve us?

So take the extra minute it will cost you and click the link. This isn’t about Republicans and Democrats or Greenpeace and the Religious Right. It’s about people and doing some little things that help us all.

Home has meant many things to me in my short few years so far. Yesterday it meant phone calls and laughs over the phone at old photos. Discussions of whether bisque is the only Christmas food that uses the letter “Q” and astonishment at old hairdos. Yesterday it meant the excited squeal of kids, the nip and tug of a puppy learning to chew and biscuits with honey. Yesterday it meant the win of the Eagles and the loss of the Cowboys. Yesterday it meant the nostalgia of an old fighter and movie-maker from my home state that is still living in the 70s where I find I sometimes feel quite at home.

The old phrase is true. Home is where the heart is. And my heart is everywhere that people live, where children play and laugh and favorite foods are dreamt of and  a smile graces the lips of a worn and tired face. Hopefully a few more people will be home next year this time.

There are a number of themes that I’ve made my own over the years. One of these themes is remembering. Over the remaining days in December, I’m going to try to take some extra time to remember some notable times this year, both in our little Vox community and elsewhere. Don’t expect a “Top” list. That’s too rigid for my tastes, but I do want to be thankful for the good of this year and learn from past mistakes.

Maybe you want to join me. If you do, let me know and I’ll make a point to link to your blog.

I could really use your prayer as could the people in our community of faith. Between two new babies, a couple of key people under the weather, a few plan Cs and a myriad of things that we think should happen at the gatherings we really need God’s presence one more time.

What are our actions based on? Whether church or organization or business or person, are they based on preservation of current existence? Are they based on pursuit of stability, self-reliance and power over come what may?

Or are we willing to do the risky things needed to act in true love and loving truth, relying on God to provide every thing? (that space feels ten miles wide)

I hope for the later. I pray for it in my life and the lives of those around me. But it is a struggle no catchphrase can bring. It is a battle that no label of “emergent” or “Mosaic” or name of any other kind (yes, I’m talking about you) can bestow.

One more time I put down the pinwheel and spread arms wide to feel the wind.

Today as I looked at all the things that faced me and my friends, I stopped to think a thought other wise people have said:

Leaders aren’t fearless. Leaders face their fear in community and keep moving. 

I need to do learn to live that on a deeper level.

“I’m sorry.” The words stick and my lips tremble with the anticipation of words left undelivered by my brain. My hand moves to the cold limbs. Slowly, I straighten the arms and unbend the legs. I look down to see my coat, a poor shroud, providing some last decency, and take a rag of my now ripped shirt to wipe the drying red. “I’m sorry.”

My eyes slide down smooth face to arm to leg in disbelief before finding, as if surprised another hand. A shudder brings me out of stillness. Another face. Another body. Another person. And then another. Limbs bruised, bodies twisted, faces in agony — I see them one after the other stretched out before me.

No coat will cover all the shame. No shirt mop up all the blood. No song encompass all the fallen. And I sink — knees on cold flesh, arms at my side, face long and gaunt. Sink to the side of the fallen — those who died by hands that held the symbol of the cross… sink to the people of lands distant and my own who are ridiculed by my family. I cry.

I wrote this one night following a long conversation with a gay man here in the city I live a while ago. Why are people who call themselves followers of Christ so known by the actions of death and hatred throughout history? Some of it is found in Jesus’ divisive words, but so so much is found in our own pride and lust for control.

It’s a reminder to me today as I come up on Thanksgiving and Christmas of a few things.

1. The holy call to truly repent. Here the words of history are rich. God doesn’t call us to simple sorrow, but a combination of sorrow and action. I need more of that action in my life.
2. The holy call to be humble.  During Thanksgiving and Christmas, there is the temptation to impose our traditions on other people. I will welcome many people to join me and my friends to celebrate these days, but I won’t guilt them into it.
3. The holy call to listen. There is a lot I don’t know about life and the world. Today and every day is a day to listen and learn from every person I meet. At the very least, I can learn what they think and feel, which helps me love them better.

mask in progress - finished

Originally uploaded by origami joel.

I meant to post this some time back, but you should take some time to visit the work of Joel at Flickr. I’ve never met him, but I think the quality of the folded paper sculpture and art he does speaks for itself.

Joel does consider doing work for commission so if you like his work consider sending some money his way. Truly amazing stuff.

Ken Pike, a noted linguist and Bible translator once said, “If we love the Lord only with our hearts, we are heretics.” He was responding to those who didn’t value the scientific requirements of doing high-quality linguistic work to produce the best Bible translations for people around, but his words continue to ring true today. If people chose to check their mind at the door of their community of faith, they were missing out on a valuable part of God’s desires for them.

Lately though, I’ve seen people take similar thought and try to beat people into complete cultural and social agreement - often while misrepresenting the truth. The reality is that it isn’t just misguided attempts to love. Repetition of this bullying can quite literally be a sin against God when we stand in pride at our own intellectual, moral or social dominance no matter how correct we might be.

It would be easier if I could point at those nasty liberals or those silly conservatives, but I can’t. Our human desire to be vindicated doesn’t stop at party lines, denominational lines or even at the end of one faith or even faith. And predictably we follow the pattern Jesus warned against so long ago. We’re walking around with a major wound trying to stitch up someone’s paper cut.

So what is to be done? I think the person who wants to love God needs to consider three significant actions that they can begin work on today. Read the rest of this entry »

It’s not dead yet and I’m looking for your thoughts about good holiday reads. Read my short post here and leave your thoughts. I’ll be trying to add some more reviews in time.

When I was younger, my father’s home church held a party of him and gave him a crown that said, “Mr. Flexible” In my own odd fashion, I picked up the crown, scrawled “Jr.” and wore it around.

Today, I was introduced. “This is Parke. His middle name is flexibility.” I’m beaming.

No model is ever perfect and flexibility needs to be kept in context, but as I’ve said many times before, I’m proud to be known by my father’s name.

Now my obvious question of self-examination. “Am I know by the name of God, who cares for us as a father, and the name God was called - Love?”

I can’t say I was surprised when I read the news that the hotel just up the road from my apartment complex had been robbed in the last week or so. If you’ve followed along with me, I’ve told you about the nearby bank that was robbed twice within a few days and the hotels on my same road that are well-known drug and prostitution stops. And just down around the corner and beyond the woods that homeless people live in is where one of our Sunday gatherings meets.

It sometimes makes me wonder what stories are found in this place? What does God’s hope look like for these people who live here? What is my role in these things?

So you’ve uploaded your pictures to Flickr. Now what? I think it’s a question that many new Flickr users start asking themselves down the road. One good next step is joining a group that will challenge you to take new and better pictures. And UTATA is a Flickr photo group on steroids.

From their site:
“In short, we operate like a traditional salon. We discuss things, engage in group activities, talk about important and mundane things, share experiences, knowledge and the ocassional bad or good mood. We’re indulgent of one another to the degree civility and friendship demand and we run the gamut from point and shooters with their first camera to heavy hitters with Hasselblads in their back seats. And when we walk through the Utata front doors, we’re all the same. That’s the tribe secret.”

Read more
See my member page
See the latest project
See their Flickr group page to join

If you’re at all interesting in photography, in improving your skills or in talking over some great photos, I’d strongly encourage you to join up.

A number of you have been kind enough to ask about the need I mentioned in an earlier post and to express your care and concern about my grandfather. I’ll speak about the first later this week, but this is just a short note to let you know my grandfather passed away this afternoon. It was somewhat expected given events of the past few days and the family was present when we painlessly ended his time here with us. Though one never wishes death on another, he now has a greater measure of peace as do we. For that, I am grateful.

My grandfather was many things and by no means perfect, but we shared many good times, a love for thoughtful writers and a general love for poetry and wordplay.  Those things I will remember warmly.

I like the inky blackness. Drifting towards sleep, our van would cut through the darkness on the two-lane highway that carried memories of life before the interstate. As brother and sister drifted to sleep, I would poke my head up between the seats and listen. I was one of them - one of the adults - for those brief moments. Releasing some of the heavy burdens they bore and pondering about what lay ahead, we three would face whatever came next. The younger ones would be kept safe.

These are the moments that will forever capture my deepest love for my parents. These are the times that have birthed my love for the late night ride, that fostered my guardian spirit and that are my comfort tonight. We three will face whatever comes next - together.

Why is it in all our talk about followers of Christ having different gifts and strengths that we think that everyone has to be involved in the passion that God has given us? Why do we use guilt to pressure people to do what want them to instead of exploring their passions and strengths with them?

The keys are cold as I press each letter in plastic staccato. In truth, I hardly think about the letters anymore. The “Y”, the “Q” and my much-loved “P” are in thin white contrast to the black of the keyboard that I pound away on, only revealing themselves when the quotation marks capture them for my eye to see.

I write with clock ticking. The keyboard will one day break, my wrists will some day throb with pain and my fingers will eventually be too frail to hold the fine tipped pens I love.  It is not a morbid thought. It is a somber reflection. Type now or forever hold your peace.

And I am wedded to these words. My heart overflows with them, spilling out of pen and screen. The volumes I’ve written sit dusty and unused, knowing in their quiet way that their purpose has been served. It is in the journey that we come to know the ones we love most intimately. It is after the commitment that our deepest affections are known.

And I was given away to these words on the day my teacher said to me. “Perhaps you should consider if there isn’t something more.” The romance has long gone - found only in those special moments of pen and paper of sky and tree. But the love is strong and it is time that I return to it with renewed passion.

I send you the letter of my heart
Open fragile free
Like vassal serf
Like bankrupt debtor
Like prison convict
I beg forgiveness
Waiting
Hoping