one. thing.

"I have one regret: I regret words."
(Prof. C.C. Chapel series)

"I'm hungry"

in the Bible, there's a part where Jesus is talking about the end, and all people would be gathered and God would look to the people at His right and say "When I was hungry, you fed me. When I was naked, you clothed me. When I was sick and alone, you took care of me and stayed with me." (paraphrased) and they asked Him: "Lord, when did we do these things?" The answer? "What you have done unto the least of these, you have done unto me." The reverse of this is also true: What you haven't done unto the least of these, you haven't done for Jesus.
my heart is hurting, you see. i see this picture in my mind of a woman sitting alone on a park bench. i feel despair in her gaze and posture. i hear her words like a knife in my heart: "Can you help me? ...I'm hungry." in Calcutta we were told to ignore street beggars when they asked for money, because "it would do more harm than good"... if that's exactly true or not, i'm not sure. but i wasn't in Calcutta, and no one was there to make that decision for me. this was walking in Philly, on a gorgeous, crisp fall day; and there was no ignoring those words. they echo in my head even now.
thinking back on the situation... she lied. she didn't want food. we tried to give food. i lied too. i said i had no money. she said she just needed to get home. i asked how she would get home... she said she was homeless. and as soon as the change in my and another's pocket left our hands, our presence was no more acknowledged by this woman. it was like we were no longer there.
more than anything, i'd like to 'feel' good about this situation. i'd like to look back and say i did everything i could have possibly done, that i hadn't lied about money, that i was going about this purely to love someone and not to assauge my concience. what do i know anyway? more than anything i'd like to see the woman on the bench smiling, filled with more than food, happy with more than money. Jesus... today i heard you speaking... and i tried to help... but my assesment on what help is, in reality, is maybe not always the way i see help... i saw Jesus today and i cannot forget HIM.

Shuffle

Honey-lemon lozenges, Sprite can, tissues, a faded burgundy canvas bound books reading "God was in Christ", deadlines, worlds to be discovered. A vast sea of memories which must swell the heart of many in the past, show up on small Kodachrome slides hilighted by the small slide viewer in my grandpa's apartment. Generations past, and yet they are so close. Smiles, and yet worlds apart. And to think of what I would have done with this evening if I had not been sick...
Shuffle, shuffle. Movement is not always advancement, and in the end, standing before the Throne of God looking at Christ for the first time, I shall not be (I don't think) finding great comfort in the fact that I "did" things. No, instead it would seem that taking time to smell flowers when they bloom, to hold hands that need to be held, to bear burdens that need to be born, to love those around regardless of deadlines, to see the royalty in the homeless man and the courage of the battered woman. To love the abused, confused, used... those things will not qualify or sanctify in themselves, but they will be time to spend with Jesus. And, after all, it makes for good preparation when we will be with Him forever, to spend time with Him now, does it not? So, tonight, let me stop the "shuffle" and take a deep (albeit, congested) breath and thank God...

Say hello to life

A mess of splattered communication.
Mulling over future generations,
Screwed over by the current situations.
This is what we wake up to.

Misty mornings find them mourning.
Walking down the tracks scorning,
Decisions made without warning.
Good afternoon, dear. Say hello to life.

The board walk's slick as rain,
Frozen sticking to window panes,
Miles behind, time brings pain back again.
Driving away, away from life.

Everyone's talking, no one's listening,
Hearts sighing, heavy. Eyes glistening,
With tears, come, come trickling.
Good morning, just take this away.

Hang it out to dry,
Let it alone, just let it die,
Don't hang over like sun-setting skies.
Beautifully out of reach, always out of reach.

Pain's comming to Christmas every other year,
Leaving hearts to writhe, eyes to drown in their own tears.
Is there redemption, redemption amidst fear?
Say hello to life.

You didn't ask me if i wanted to love.
Now i've no choice. Here i am.
And now my heart's being torn away.
Say hello to life.

Sandcastles

"All the chisels i have dulled carving idols of stone. They have crumbled like sand 'neath the waves. i have restlessly built all my dreams in the sand, just to watch them all wash away." - Jennifer Knapp

No matter how many times we built that castle -- it always sloshed and melted away beneath the torrent of water. And everytime we made a stronger structure, and reinforced caverns, it all fell just the same. Till i just sat down and salt water flowed from me and not the sea, painfully atune to the futility of our endeavor. Building on what cannot stand. Standing on what will fall. Falling with each gentle wave. These skeletons of idols littering the beach, these tomb stones marking human "acheivment" and endeavor are stale reminders of fuitile temporality of joy in "things" and not in God. So with each sweeping wave, crashing down upon the idols in my heart, may You build up, O Rock of Ages, a mountian in my heart. One not made by my hands. A Rock cut not with human hands.

"What Next?"

As my good friend Jenna would say "what next?". So i reiterate along with the chorus of witnesses around me a question that everyone in the world is asking. What's next? We're here, somthing's finished and we're not sure what's to happen now. Where do we go from here? What should we do now? How do we go about living when our routine has been kicked swiftly in it's metaphorical behind out the back door?

Honestly, i have no clue. i wake up to ask God the same questions... "what next?" i've seen Him work miracles with the "fleece" i've laid before Him. i've seen Him provide in the desert places. So how is it that now i find myself asking what He's going to do when He's only ever provided the best? Perhaps, it's because i'm afraid. i have my ideas of how life "should" look. There are plans i'd like to see fulfilled, and to behonest God does not always fulfill my plans.

Lay aside my plans, God? H'okay. Show me how.

So... what next?

Though No one Knows

We turn the lights like turning keys,
Exiting a room. Closing a door.
She smiles on the street, like a window;
No one else knows the things that go on below.
He says he's fine, texture aside,
No one else knows the pain behind his eyes.

It's like a game of hide-n-seek,
That we play, you and me.
We're like two peanuts in our shells,
Full of so much that we never show, never tell.
We don't even remember who first told us to cover up,
Gardens and Falls away, leaves and skins holding up.

Take my hand, mine's in His, i am me and He knows this.
Turn the lights out when you leave,
Don't forget to leave the keys.
Leave the doors widely open,
Hold your heart, though it's broken,
Up to One who knows