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?
Monday, August 25, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
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
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
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
"...that age-old practice of man."
The bad guys of the New Testament are interesting characters. Herin are no thugs in ski masks marauding through the streets pillaging and plundering. No cheating money-lenders, no seductive whores... only religious leaders. The "teachers of the law". The former, are all part of the New Testament, that is, minus the ski masks I don't believe they had those. The Kingdom of God was ushered in to a people completely undeserving of grace. The only problem was, there were some who believed they were some how less unworthy than others.
If you want to see Jesus ticked off at anyone, check out His interactions with the Pharisees. Jesus had choice words to these people. But why? Why would those so close to God be so distanced from God incarnate? Who was their god, then? Perhaps, though, it is best not to speculate but to think, in "real time" as it has been dubbed. Do I derive my joy out of serving God or the feeling of accomplishment I enjoy when I see myself serving God? Do I obey out of love to God, or out of the exhilaration of accolades that follow my "self-sacrifice"? Should I like to be seen as pious and respected on the streets by my fellow Christians because of my exterior faith? If so, then it is clear what god I would be serving and what god the Pharisees served. That is the insatiable appetite of the god of self.
Let the pillars be torn down, and the plank taken out. The old wine skins disposed of and the new wine poured into new wine skins. Here there can be no room for the decaying stench of the worship of self, that age old practice of man. Let broken-ness be the aim. Never stop to think "how humble and broken I am becoming!" for then all is lost once more. [This is the summary of a chapter in C.S.Lewis's "The Screwtape Letters" on the subject of Pride] How much is lost, truly, when we come into the House of the LORD to worship and we cannot see beyond our selves? God, my God! May it never be! Break me! Let my cry be uttered with the tax collecter in Luke: "God, have mercy on me... a sinner!" refusing even to look up, but mourning my own pitious state and glorifying in the glory of God's love.
If you want to see Jesus ticked off at anyone, check out His interactions with the Pharisees. Jesus had choice words to these people. But why? Why would those so close to God be so distanced from God incarnate? Who was their god, then? Perhaps, though, it is best not to speculate but to think, in "real time" as it has been dubbed. Do I derive my joy out of serving God or the feeling of accomplishment I enjoy when I see myself serving God? Do I obey out of love to God, or out of the exhilaration of accolades that follow my "self-sacrifice"? Should I like to be seen as pious and respected on the streets by my fellow Christians because of my exterior faith? If so, then it is clear what god I would be serving and what god the Pharisees served. That is the insatiable appetite of the god of self.
Let the pillars be torn down, and the plank taken out. The old wine skins disposed of and the new wine poured into new wine skins. Here there can be no room for the decaying stench of the worship of self, that age old practice of man. Let broken-ness be the aim. Never stop to think "how humble and broken I am becoming!" for then all is lost once more. [This is the summary of a chapter in C.S.Lewis's "The Screwtape Letters" on the subject of Pride] How much is lost, truly, when we come into the House of the LORD to worship and we cannot see beyond our selves? God, my God! May it never be! Break me! Let my cry be uttered with the tax collecter in Luke: "God, have mercy on me... a sinner!" refusing even to look up, but mourning my own pitious state and glorifying in the glory of God's love.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Even when His voice echoes through the fog...
Ach! My wanderlusting bones cannot begin to believe it is already that time of year. When frazled mothers lead their children who've been hypnotized all summer under the flashing lights of television and video games and occupied by sports and games -- now trying to remember how to be civil in public while picking up folders and pencils. That time, has come again. Those words which send chills up my spine: "Back to school".
Chills aside. It's really not that bad. And I'm only half serious when I say "chills". But, it's that time. Time to sit in a classroom and pretend to be learning. Time to put aside community for the sake of a degree. Time for the faithful college student to return to his or her underground existance, lit soley by the light of a computer screen and the occasional sunrise that we see when papers are due... THAT time.
We're one day closer to the future and what we'll "become". One day closer to a future that we envision, as if we can envision the end. As if the "end" were attainable on earth. Every end I've met is only another beginning entering into the next moment of life in this journey. And even when an end leaves me flabbergasted (no?) and perplexed, God's voice still echoes through the fog. He has been faithful. He is faithful. He will continue to be faithful.
This "end", perhaps not just of summer, but of familiarity, of clarity and comfortability - has an end. And this "end" is really only a beginning. It's foggy outside tonight, and my upcoming class scheduel is equally foggy... but it's okay, really. His voice speaks through the fog...
Chills aside. It's really not that bad. And I'm only half serious when I say "chills". But, it's that time. Time to sit in a classroom and pretend to be learning. Time to put aside community for the sake of a degree. Time for the faithful college student to return to his or her underground existance, lit soley by the light of a computer screen and the occasional sunrise that we see when papers are due... THAT time.
We're one day closer to the future and what we'll "become". One day closer to a future that we envision, as if we can envision the end. As if the "end" were attainable on earth. Every end I've met is only another beginning entering into the next moment of life in this journey. And even when an end leaves me flabbergasted (no?) and perplexed, God's voice still echoes through the fog. He has been faithful. He is faithful. He will continue to be faithful.
This "end", perhaps not just of summer, but of familiarity, of clarity and comfortability - has an end. And this "end" is really only a beginning. It's foggy outside tonight, and my upcoming class scheduel is equally foggy... but it's okay, really. His voice speaks through the fog...
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