Tidings Of Great Joy For ALL People--Even The Bad Ones

I was sitting in a church service today as the pastor was talking about the freshness and life his father would try to bring to Christmas every year. Suddenly I started thinking about my future family (Lord willing) and how I would instill in my children an earnest understanding and appreciation for Christmas. What is it I want them to learn? What is important, and how do the various elements of Christmas relate? What do the trappings have to do with Christ, and how will I relate those values to my kids?
My first thought was classic: we give gifts to others as a way of remembering God's gift to us--eternal life through Jesus Christ. We give gifts to show people that we love them. My beef with such occasions has always been a developed misunderstanding that such gifts are earned or inherently deserved. Is that the kind of gift we are commemorating at Christmas?
That's when it hit me. Kid's are not just allowed to believe that they deserve gifts, they are taught to believe they deserve gifts. When we talk about Santa Clause, what do we say he puts in the stockings of "naughty" children? Coal! Bad kids are not deserving of toys and candy and such. And how many of you parents have threatened your children with "no presents for Christmas if you don't behave"? Gifts are earned, not given out of an unquenchable love.
Is that the kind of gift God gave us?
The answer is emphatically "NO!" Do you know what we were like when Jesus came? Do you know how we behaved, or more accurately, misbehaved?
We were despicable in our arrogance and our pride. We were filthy in our lies, lusts and licentious acts. We not only lived for ourselves, we lived in complete rebellion and hatred toward God.
Would you give that child a present on Christmas morning? Would you give him the greatest and most precious thing in your possession?
God did.
Don't get me wrong. Love also disciplines when it is needed. If it did not, it would not be very loving. God's gift to us was the best thing for us even and especially in our rebellious state. I don't know that many of us could say the same thing of those colorfully wrapped presents under the tree. There is a difference between God's gift and our's.
But before you start throwing around those often empty Christmas threats, let's think about what we are trying to do. If in our gift giving we are trying to demonstrate God's complete, perfect and unchanging love for us--in spite of ourselves, and our similarly unconditional love for our children, family and friends, then how do we demonstrate that through our actions and our words? I'm not saying this is always the answer, but perhaps sometimes it means giving the most rotten and rude person the greatest gift they have ever received.
Think about it.
And ask yourself: What do you think you really deserve?

The Blinding Darkness

The days do wane like the shaving of the moon.
That luminary which holds its glow full bright
Does so shortly surrender to the darkness of night.
While voices in obscurity do cry "So soon?"

Hmm...I don't know what I think of the meter.

I am most-ways ashamed that I did not make a single post in the month of October. But that is as is and as cannot be undone.
There is a light on the horizon. There is a dark and frightening shadow between here and there, but I do see a light. In truth there has always been a light. That light, however, stood seemingly far off--though no one knows how near it may be. Now, lest that farther light prove to come before, I at least have a closer light to look forward to.
One must be cautious in what dim auroras one places his hopes. It is in many ways better to consider such dull sparkles to be lighter darknessess than to seek them in place of the eternal brilliance--where in we find true hope.
At the same time no where are we told that we should not enjoy the good and simple pleasures which we are given. We know these good and perfect gifts do come because we are told that they come and from whom them come. For that reason I will look forward to and enjoy those little gifts while keeping my bright, shining and future home full in mind.

Giant OR Windmill?

The first weekend after classes have begun is always weird. I feel as though I am in a state of limbo with all my experiences of school in the past, but no real concept of what this year of school will be like. Will it be easier, or harder? Is the week that just passed any indication of what the rest of the year will hold? Will I encounter the same frustrations as last year, or will they mostly be new issues?
It's hard to tell anything at this point. People ask how I'm doing. I think I'm doing fine, but that is because I am in a state of ignorance which can only be remedied by the experiences I am about to face. They say "ignorance is bliss", but they also have a saying that has to do with a brown substance coming in contact with an air-flow generator.

Life

Small and insignificant
Weak and without purpose
Reaching
Stretching
Hoping
Growing
Moving
Big and substantial
Strong and Driven
Walking
Grasping
Directing
Learning
Full and meaningful
Powerful and purposeful
Leading
Laboring
Laughing
Loving
LIVING

Fear Vs. Faith

My time here is coming to an end. Thursday of this next week I leave for camp. I'll be working as summer staff for the rest of the summer. I'm looking forward to it. It will be a great summer.
So why am I so scared?
This is not the first time I've worked at a camp. This will not be the first time I've been a camp councilor. I have every reason to believe that this summer will be a success.
What am I so worried about?
Maybe I'm giving too much power to my weaknesses. Maybe I need a shift in perspective. I'm so busy looking at how unqualified and unprepared I might be that I'm placing all the focus on me and my abilities. As if any good that comes of my work this summer will be my doing.
If anything I should be embracing my weaknesses. I should be aware of them and praying earnestly that God will work through them. Paul says that it is in his weaknesses that God is proved strong.
Sure, God gets all the credit for the things I excel at. He is the one who made me the way I am. But how much more evident is His work when He does great things through my weaknesses.
That doesn't make it easy to proceede. I know that it will be hard. I know that it will bring new challenges. It's kinda scary because I know that I will be stretched and pushed to grow, and that can hurt or at least be uncomfortable.
But why worry? The Father knows what I need, so let tomorrow worry about itself.
But why fear? Fear has to do with punishment, and I will not be punished as long as I submit myself to the Father and seek Him. There is no reason to fear.
Through the Lord's strength I can face boldly and humbly the work He has before me.
I am praying for three things for myself: wisdom, humility and love. Wisdom to know how to react to situation. Humility to know when it is my place to react. Love for others that causes me to seek and apply the wisdom and humility.

Song Of The Willow

The saddest of giants stands tall and wilted.
Though healthy in body its spirit mourns.
Its green leaves long and slender,
Like the fair fingers of a young widow
Reaching down to the earth for her lost love.

Misunderstood, she is scorned by many;
An omen of darkness, and pain of heart;
A symbol of love lost and unrequited;
A stalker of travelers, and death-bringer, she.
And for all these charges she has kept her silence.

There are few who have seen her in true light;
As a bringer of wisdom, and a strong guardian;
An easer of pains, and promoter of life.
Indeed, life springs forth from every fallen sprig,
Shooting up to the heavens from its burial ground.

A firm tower, she stands along the river banks
Guarding against all raging currents.
Her roots dig deep, holding fast their ground;
Grasping tight to protect her beloved land.
She has lost one love, and will lose no more.

Her slender beauty poised in the meadow,
Though scarred in spirit, she welcomes all.
Gently she whispers the winds glad tidings,
And sings the songs of dancing leaves.
For all she gives, and asking nothing,
She is alone.

Lost In A Sea Of Tumultuous Tranquility

Four dwarf giants set standing around a puddle of fire one wet and sunny night.
They grumbled along silently to each other.
The first complained of the pleasant feeling of slugs between his toes.
The second had lost track of time while staring at his watch.
The last thought only of finding a way to fly through the ocean on horseback--
he wanted to catch a glimpse of an invisible sea cow.

Day 6: We haven't found any food yet. Our water is running low, and we save what we can for the women and small children. One man thought he found a brollium deposit in a near by offshoot to this cavernous prison, but it ended up being fools' ore. If only it had been brollium, that stuff is always found near a source of clean water. No one knows why. That's just how it is.

But seriously, one of the top classic ways to start a fictitious journal entry is to have the writer still looking for food and water. It describes half of the scenarios that a person might actually be interested in reading out of a journal.

My brother continues to give me lesson after lesson in the ways of ludicris. That man has a mind like few I've ever met. He does know how to apply it very well and even according to the "rules" and "standards" of general acceptance. Most of the time, however, he chooses not to. He litterally sets aside time to think about the kinds of things that most people would never even consider. And each point is justifiable in its own right--though many of them do require certain allowances in order to function.
In all honesty I sometimes envy his keen observation of the obvious. He looks at the every-day, the mundane and makes observations that few others would ever come close to noticing. He sees connections that no one should notice until they are pointed out.
I've known for a long time that I'm not as observent as I could be, and some times as I should be. Listening to all the thoughts and ideas rolling out of my brothers head, however, makes me wonder what happened to me. We grew up in the same house, with the same family. What's the difference?
Don't get me wrong. I am proud of my brother, and I am content to be who God has made me to be. There are just times when I wonder if maybe I don't quite live up to all that God has made me to be simply because I don't practice many of these simple skills.
I guess I'll just have to leave the ultimate of absurdities to my brother.

I'm Not All Here

Some things can't fit in boxes.
Clothes, lamps and kitchen supplies...can fit in a box.
Three years of school books and homework...can fit in a box.
Pictures, postcards and other paraphernalia...can fit in a box.
Memories, experiences and relationships...cannot fit in a box.
Emotions, growth and personality...cannot fit in a box.
I recently tried to pack up my entire life and move it to another location, but I could not make it all fit. I was able to load just about everything of mine that I could see, but a few intangibles had to be left behind. Some because they were attached to things I could not take. Others because they simply would not fit in this other world.
My school is not physically very far from my home. It is actually relatively close. It is, however, psychologically and sociologically worlds away from my home town. The two are very different places. What is experienced in one place cannot be easily communicated to the other, so it must be left behind...usually.
Living this way soon becomes rather frustrating. When I first left home I was a particular person. I believed a certain way, I thought a certain way and I acted a certain way. While I was away I maintained--and even developed--some foundational elements of who I was, yet much also changed. I grew; I developed; I adapted; I became more than I was when I left. Upon return, however, it was clear that who I had become was not easily understood.
Back at home I am treated much as I was before, and why not? I am still the same person: Loving son, considerate brother and caring friend. In fact in some ways I am even more these things than before. But even in view of all the things I still am there are a few things that I am not--at least not in the way I was before.
I am not an immature, rambunctious teenager. I am not an ignorant and socially incompetent homeschooler. I am not dependent on others to take care of me and give me direction.
This is not to say that I "have arrived." I'm not saying that I know everything there is to know and understand all. I am only saying that I understand much more than I did, and I am better for it. I have grown so much over the last three years, but I had a hard time fitting it all in my parents' trunk. I will only be home for a little while, and there is no way that home can grow to understand who I am in such a short time.
For this reason I will have to wait until I have enough time to make some return trips for those things I left behind. I can only bring back what this world can hold, so I left a part of myself behind. It just wouldn't fit in the box.

Late Night With Liquid Light

It was 3AM. There were bubbles.
Soaring soapy spheres filled the room, or at least my corner of it.
Each breath produced a translucent prism that refracted light in a way that can only be matched by an oil spill at a car wash.
A rainbow of colors shifts and slides around the fragile exoskeleton of the gleaming UFOs.
The larger orbs appeared to be the most impressive to the lookers on. I, however, found the greatest accomplishment to be the capturing of small or medium sized suds for the purpose of breathing larger and more bountiful life into them. A single two inch glob would be transformed into multiple spheres, some of them even larger than the original.

The casual observers contribute coy commentary. They talk not only about the bubbles, but also about the financial state of people on the street, and the socialist implications of the latest blockbuster. Drugs--it has been decided--are not good for you. Each agrees to this proposal, though some only through their sarcastic retorts. We know that toxins alter our perceptions of the world and put everything in a distorted light.
Meanwhile the soaring beacons transfigured the luminescence of our living room lamp into a miniature Aurora Borialis. The peanut gallery gazes upon the bubbles in an entranced accord. The gliding colors enrich our resolve.

It was 3AM, and there were bubbles.

Reflection And Analysis

This term is coming to a close pretty quickly. I have only two weeks of classes and a few finals. May 2nd I head home.
So what has this term come to? What has been gained? What have I learned?
I've learned that I have a lot of work yet to do in the area of focusing my ideas and thoughts when presenting them to others. Part of it is just a matter of having more time to prepare my thoughts.
I've also had many opportunities to teach this term. It has been scary. BUT at the same time I have seen that--when I am well prepared--I am capable of standing in front of a bunch of students and presenting a lesson without becoming too uncomfortable. Planning, preparation and purpose--with these three things I am able to endure speaking in front of the most unresponsive audience.
My writing has improved. I have a long way to go yet, but with only a few key pieces of information my writing has easily doubled in its potency.
I have grown in my understanding of what I believe, and why I would teach.
I have grown in intelect and understanding. I have grown in my ability to ask questions (though I have only scratched the surface in that respect).
This term has given me a greater respect for myself. There are still so many areas in which I need to improve. So many things about myself I pray for God to change in me. But I have seen myself rise above the distractions to a new level of success, all by God's grace.
I came into this term seeking to work harder than any term previous. I hoped to work above and beyond my capabilities to a point which only God could bring about through me. Excellence was the goal. Not for the sake of excellence or pride, but to build my faith in my God and to present an example of what God is capable.
It was not easy. There were times when I wished I could quit or at least take a break. Yet God continued to provide strength and perseverance.
Only time will show the complete fruit of my labor. Right now, however, I know that this term has been a beneficial experience in many ways.
My gratitude to all those who have encouraged me in my academic endeavors this term.

Patience: It Takes Time

It's about time I wrote something...
Maybe when I don't have two large papers due in less than a week.

Portals and Passageways

Doors are interesting things.
Doors say a lot about a culture, a structure, a person.
Doors are used for a variety of purposes. Some protect by keeping out while others protect by keeping in. Some are merely a visual barrier while others permit visibility. Some are always locked, some can be locked, and some never lock. Some swing, some slide, and some flap.
Doors are made of many different materials depending on the purpose and the means available to its designer: Metal, wood, glass, plastic, fiberglass, paper, fabric, rock.
Doors can also instigate emotional responses. Some doors look pleasant, or creepy, or stir memories of childhood. Some bring to mind fairy tales, fantasy worlds, or nightmares. A locked door can be reassuring or it can be deathly frightening. An open door can make you feel welcome or insecure.
Doors also hold a lot of symbolism for us. A closed door can be the end of one possibility, while an open door can be the beginning of a new opportunity. Some symbolize a transition from one way of life to another. A door can symbolize a person's character, or the state of his heart.
Doors are an every day aspect of our lives. We take for granted a great deal about doors both on a conceptual scale and on an individual bases.
What more can be said? Knock knock.