A co-worker put a page from Puritan Prayers and Devotions in my box today entitled "Year's End". I liked it. Here are some excerpts (p.204-5):
"O Love beyond compare, Thou art good when thou givest, when thou takest away,
When the sun shines on me, when night gathers over me.
Thou hast loved me before the foundation of the world, and in love didst redeem my soul;
Thou dost love me still, in spite of my hard heart, ingratitude, distrust.
Thy goodness has been with me during another year, leading me through a twisting wilderness, in retreat helping me to advance, when beaten back making sure headway..."
"...I bless thee that thou hast veiled my eyes to the waters ahead.
If thou hast appointed storms of tribulation, thou wilt be with me in them;
If I have to pass through tempests of persecution and temptation, I shall not drown;
If I am to die, I shall see thy face the sooner;
If a painful end is to be my lot, grant me grace that my faith fail not;
If I am cast aside from the service I love, I can make no stipulation;
Only--glorify thyself in me whether in comfort or in trial, as a chosen vessel meet always for thy use."
Thank you Lord Jesus.
Thank you for 22 years with Kathy,
for 47 years of sunshine and rain,
for 11 years of teaching high school,
for 27 years of working with young people.
Lord, thank you for the friends I've met near and far,
for those who slowed their pace to bring me along.
Lord, thank you for family who gathered and celebrated kinship, good food and conversation.
Thank you for being born lucky, in Texas, with plenty to eat.
Most of all, Lord, thank you for coming to our broken world in a crazy-fun sneak-attack-- Jesus, you came to the least, as one of them, and gave us Hope where there was none.
Jesus, thank you for choosing the cross; you died for me, for us, yet you alone were innocent-- help us to live out your Love, even to our enemies.
Help me to be compassionate for those who are so lost in their own rationalizations that they play at "religion" and live for themselves... for such am I when the mirror shines my glance.
Help me to be faithful, a servant of the King.
Thank you for December, Lord. Thank you. Amen.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Lonesome George
Today's Chronicle had an interesting article on Lonesome George, the last of his species on the Galapagos Islands. We saw him last year on a science trip to the tortoise refuge; it was very sobering to see his massive hulking profile a hundred meters away, knowing when he died, there would be no more after him.
Park ecologists have tried uniting him with a variety of different females, and this last mate finally produced a full clutch of eggs... none were fertilized. Scientists do not understand why; they are doing lots of blood work (needles? not my idea of libido-stimulating activity) to see what went wrong. Poor George.
Yesterday a very different event occurred; a friend's husband passed from this world and fell into Christ's embrace. How different we are from the beasts of the field. Lord, thank you for the Hope you brought us when you suffered on the cross in our stead. Teach us to love others like you love us. Amen.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Dear Jesus
"Dear Jesus, I love you."
Santry wrote this prayer on a FOM blog this weekend, and I am reminded...
Jesus is my lover.
Jesus loves me back.
Jesus offers me intimacy and acceptance.
Dear Jesus, I yearn for your kisses.
Dear Jesus, I hunger for your presence.
Dear Jesus, I need your arms around me, to hold me and hug me and comfort me when this world leaves me alone and empty.
Dear Jesus, help me to fall passionately in love with you.
Amen. --jim
Santry wrote this prayer on a FOM blog this weekend, and I am reminded...
Jesus is my lover.
Jesus loves me back.
Jesus offers me intimacy and acceptance.
Dear Jesus, I yearn for your kisses.
Dear Jesus, I hunger for your presence.
Dear Jesus, I need your arms around me, to hold me and hug me and comfort me when this world leaves me alone and empty.
Dear Jesus, help me to fall passionately in love with you.
Amen. --jim
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Lions, Tigers and Bears
Random thought: one does not need to enter the lion's cage to be destroyed by it. This is a spiritual thought.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
The Economy Bailout and the Common Flu: a Rant
Perhaps it's merely temporal juxtaposition, but I see a similarity between me typing in my sickbed, thankful that my fever finally broke, and the current "Economic Crisis" and resulting government bailout (think-- you're family's tax money being paid to wealthy corporations who invested poorly) that occurred this week.
Working as a high school teacher I am continually exposed to students, gregarious creatures with tendencies for face to face interactions, phone-texting not included. They come to my classroom, a new batch of 20 every hour or so and we breathe each other's air. Perhaps more relevant is the scenario when a sickly student returns to school and ends up needing tutoring or making up a lab after school-- this 1:1 interaction dooms me to eventual infection, now only if my immune system can withstand it. Only, I'm not sleeping well, not eating well, and the marriage is on the rocks this week. Not good timing. So the other day I wake up all achy with no energy... happy day, a virus has invaded my defenses and I'm trashed!
In broader news: the Bail-out.
There are several sources that can break down events leading up to this massive, taxpayer-squeezing move by our federal politicians, so I won't bore you with my ineptitude. The commonality woven through each is something like this: local money-lenders gave money to local people to buy homes, people who they knew probably wouldn't pay them back (bad). But they did business on the assumption that SOME of the people WOULD pay them back (good debt), and that houses would increase in value. Then the lenders packaged all the bad debt into this bundle I'll call "Junk". Since it was packaged, it could be sold to someone wanting to take a risk on buying Junk, with the hope that (like the lottery) there might be a big payoff in the end.
Never came. Housing was OVER-valued... They're trashed!
Now the US government, with access to your family's income (tax), is going to come in and buy all this Junk, not because Junk a good investment (stewardship), but because it will make Wall Street and lenders happy (politics) in an election year, regardless of long-term ripples. Which is actually funny, because most public companies' fundamentals are unchanged... they're just cheaper to buy (hint: buy low...now is low). This feels like some big, propped-up madness in trying to avoid the natural consequences of doing bad business, lowering the prices of stocks that are solid investments, and this is because some greedy fund-manager way over-invested in Fannie Mae or Freddy Mac and started a stampede of technical-investing reactionaries, to which our all-knowing Federal politicians are now going to spend our hard-earned, middle-class cash to solve a problem that would eventually run its course, like the flu. But elections are in November. And please don't tell me T-bills are not the same as tax dollars; how does the US gov't get the money to pay it's debts?
In my Comments below, perhaps you could correct my thinking or improve my metaphor, but I see it something like this: I don't get to bed earlier, I skip meals all week long, I expose myself to sick students all week long, meanwhile the home-front is crumbling and end up feeling achy, because I now have the flu. So I call the Mayor who I helped elect, who sends a Life-Flight helicopter to pick me up and take me to Ben Taub, where attending physicians put me through a series of tests, put me on a gourney, place me in a hospital room with the best care, and I feel better in a couple of days... look it worked! Only let's say I'm broke-- now who is going to pay for the helicopter? for the physicians? for the bed space? for the medications? Oh, and I'll need a taxi ride home... I know, I'll make everybody else pay for it... why... it's not a lot of money if you spread it out, right?
Junk!
This smells like the Savings & Loan bail-out, or like Enron, like we keep repeating this laughable routine of paying off greedy multi-millionaires with taxpayer wages, except the only ones laughing (privately, so as not to be rude) are those who are avoiding the consequence of bad business, and the politicians who spend your money to position themselves for re-election (meanwhile extolling how they can relate to the common man--they feel our pain).
Maybe it's just the flu speaking...
Working as a high school teacher I am continually exposed to students, gregarious creatures with tendencies for face to face interactions, phone-texting not included. They come to my classroom, a new batch of 20 every hour or so and we breathe each other's air. Perhaps more relevant is the scenario when a sickly student returns to school and ends up needing tutoring or making up a lab after school-- this 1:1 interaction dooms me to eventual infection, now only if my immune system can withstand it. Only, I'm not sleeping well, not eating well, and the marriage is on the rocks this week. Not good timing. So the other day I wake up all achy with no energy... happy day, a virus has invaded my defenses and I'm trashed!
In broader news: the Bail-out.
There are several sources that can break down events leading up to this massive, taxpayer-squeezing move by our federal politicians, so I won't bore you with my ineptitude. The commonality woven through each is something like this: local money-lenders gave money to local people to buy homes, people who they knew probably wouldn't pay them back (bad). But they did business on the assumption that SOME of the people WOULD pay them back (good debt), and that houses would increase in value. Then the lenders packaged all the bad debt into this bundle I'll call "Junk". Since it was packaged, it could be sold to someone wanting to take a risk on buying Junk, with the hope that (like the lottery) there might be a big payoff in the end.
Never came. Housing was OVER-valued... They're trashed!
Now the US government, with access to your family's income (tax), is going to come in and buy all this Junk, not because Junk a good investment (stewardship), but because it will make Wall Street and lenders happy (politics) in an election year, regardless of long-term ripples. Which is actually funny, because most public companies' fundamentals are unchanged... they're just cheaper to buy (hint: buy low...now is low). This feels like some big, propped-up madness in trying to avoid the natural consequences of doing bad business, lowering the prices of stocks that are solid investments, and this is because some greedy fund-manager way over-invested in Fannie Mae or Freddy Mac and started a stampede of technical-investing reactionaries, to which our all-knowing Federal politicians are now going to spend our hard-earned, middle-class cash to solve a problem that would eventually run its course, like the flu. But elections are in November. And please don't tell me T-bills are not the same as tax dollars; how does the US gov't get the money to pay it's debts?
In my Comments below, perhaps you could correct my thinking or improve my metaphor, but I see it something like this: I don't get to bed earlier, I skip meals all week long, I expose myself to sick students all week long, meanwhile the home-front is crumbling and end up feeling achy, because I now have the flu. So I call the Mayor who I helped elect, who sends a Life-Flight helicopter to pick me up and take me to Ben Taub, where attending physicians put me through a series of tests, put me on a gourney, place me in a hospital room with the best care, and I feel better in a couple of days... look it worked! Only let's say I'm broke-- now who is going to pay for the helicopter? for the physicians? for the bed space? for the medications? Oh, and I'll need a taxi ride home... I know, I'll make everybody else pay for it... why... it's not a lot of money if you spread it out, right?
Junk!
This smells like the Savings & Loan bail-out, or like Enron, like we keep repeating this laughable routine of paying off greedy multi-millionaires with taxpayer wages, except the only ones laughing (privately, so as not to be rude) are those who are avoiding the consequence of bad business, and the politicians who spend your money to position themselves for re-election (meanwhile extolling how they can relate to the common man--they feel our pain).
Maybe it's just the flu speaking...
Saturday, September 27, 2008
And Then There was Ike
God has a sense of humor, and some of that is just good timing.
Within 2 weeks of my last post, Hurricane Ike hit Houston, TX, where I live, leaving my community without electrical power for 2 weeks... Power returned 2 days ago.
And I reiterate... Hurricanes are good. Here are some things I learned during these last 2 weeks:
Within 2 weeks of my last post, Hurricane Ike hit Houston, TX, where I live, leaving my community without electrical power for 2 weeks... Power returned 2 days ago.
And I reiterate... Hurricanes are good. Here are some things I learned during these last 2 weeks:
- When you have to dress for work by flashlight, the LED glow may not help you match clothes well.
- When you have to cook outside in the back yard, plan an extra 20 minutes to reduce the fire to good coals
- A propane camp stove can boil water just as easy for coffee as an electric range, perhaps even faster.
- Air-conditioning makes bad neighbors; when you have to sit on the porch or in the driveway, and everyone else is doing the same, you get to know each other while the kids are playing on the street, riding bikes and laughing with each other... instead of holed up by themselves in front of a video game or the one-eyed-brain-sucker.
- The sweltering heat of a still night is in direct proportion to the loudness of a neighbor's portable generator or the sounds of gecko's peeping for one another.
- People show their true colors after 3 days without power; they either share or hoard, rarely in-between... My personal favorite is when you help a neighbor for hours with a fallen tree across their driveway down at the end of the cul-de-sac, but when you consider putting the fallen limbs from the old widow across the street down at an unused spot of concrete on the far end of the culdesac so her lawn doesn't die, he comes out and cusses you out with a string of racial slurs about trashing up the front of his house (btw, you couldn't even see from his house where these extra limbs went, because they were on the backside of his huge pile of tree/limbs and improperly bagged trash).
- frozen deer sausage can be used to keep other items cool in the ice box
- eat the nonfrozen items from the ice box first while the deer sausage thaws
- barbeque the deer sausage when it thaws
- a man cannot eat cooked deer sausage for 3 consecutive meals without biological consequences.
- frozen fish sticks do not keep
- ice becomes water; good for drinks, bad for breads
- you can use the same bath water twice
- you can flush the pot with used bath water
- a natural gas water heater is wonderful
- an electric stove/oven sucks
- Biblical Christianity looks like a neighbor allowing you to run an extension cord from across the street while your side of the street waits an additional week for power because Centerpoint did not trim their right-of-ways.
- Apparently ice machines and gasoline stations require a Police presence during a natural disaster
- some people are selfish pigs who don't play fairly
- Most people are wonderful, compassionate, and generous
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Hurricanes are Good
Hurricanes are good.
In North America we annually have several species of migratory creatures that head south. The monarch butterfly, for example, is a sailor, using its spinnakers to flutter down to Mexico for the winter, and as all sailors know, wind is your guide.
Mankind, in a time when we were not burning "ancient sunlight" to fuel a depleting and non-sustainable industrial revolution, knew all about the trade winds. Nations would set sail for cargo or perhaps the pursuit of freedoms, knowing that at certain seasons or latitudes the prevailing winds will carry you toward your destination.
And so, here along the Gulf of Mexico, we understand that hurricanes come with the heat of summer or early autumn. It's just part of the rhythm.
One of the funniest things I've ever heard were a group of ignorant democrats blaming Bush for hurricanes-- I laugh just remembering that episode, so funny... like the stooges, Moe and Curly-- so sincere and so ridiculous! (What's even funnier is when anti-Bush types have no idea that it was Clinton/Gore who chose not to ratify the Kyoto Protocol, resulting in several staff quitting-- priceless!)
That's like blaming Obama for freezing rain in winter! Crazy!
Hurricanes tend to enter the Gulf of Mexico in such a way that the prevailing winds (counter-clockwise) bring the air mass southward, down the Texas coast toward the winter grounds in Mexico and beyond. This southward flow benefits butterflies, broad-tailed hawks and blue-winged teal, which migrate at the end of summer.
Hurricanes are a natural balance, a blessing from God upon His Creation.
And please don't shake your fist at the Almighty when you chose to build your homes along hurricane-front property and they are destroyed... hurricanes will happen.
And pretty-please, don't complain when you build a city below sea-level, and wonder why it floods... that is insanity, like jumping off a cliff and complaining about the landing.
Hurricanes happen.
Once upon a time God made man in His own image and placed him in His Garden, to tenderly care for it by pruning it to keep it in balance. Man rejected God, mined groundwater creating subsidence, burned fossils til the skies turned gray with waste, took what he wanted and left the poor to fend for themselves, then questioned why we have hurricanes.
Hurricanes remind us that we are not God.
And that's a good thing.
In North America we annually have several species of migratory creatures that head south. The monarch butterfly, for example, is a sailor, using its spinnakers to flutter down to Mexico for the winter, and as all sailors know, wind is your guide.
Mankind, in a time when we were not burning "ancient sunlight" to fuel a depleting and non-sustainable industrial revolution, knew all about the trade winds. Nations would set sail for cargo or perhaps the pursuit of freedoms, knowing that at certain seasons or latitudes the prevailing winds will carry you toward your destination.
And so, here along the Gulf of Mexico, we understand that hurricanes come with the heat of summer or early autumn. It's just part of the rhythm.
One of the funniest things I've ever heard were a group of ignorant democrats blaming Bush for hurricanes-- I laugh just remembering that episode, so funny... like the stooges, Moe and Curly-- so sincere and so ridiculous! (What's even funnier is when anti-Bush types have no idea that it was Clinton/Gore who chose not to ratify the Kyoto Protocol, resulting in several staff quitting-- priceless!)
That's like blaming Obama for freezing rain in winter! Crazy!
Hurricanes tend to enter the Gulf of Mexico in such a way that the prevailing winds (counter-clockwise) bring the air mass southward, down the Texas coast toward the winter grounds in Mexico and beyond. This southward flow benefits butterflies, broad-tailed hawks and blue-winged teal, which migrate at the end of summer.
Hurricanes are a natural balance, a blessing from God upon His Creation.
And please don't shake your fist at the Almighty when you chose to build your homes along hurricane-front property and they are destroyed... hurricanes will happen.
And pretty-please, don't complain when you build a city below sea-level, and wonder why it floods... that is insanity, like jumping off a cliff and complaining about the landing.
Hurricanes happen.
Once upon a time God made man in His own image and placed him in His Garden, to tenderly care for it by pruning it to keep it in balance. Man rejected God, mined groundwater creating subsidence, burned fossils til the skies turned gray with waste, took what he wanted and left the poor to fend for themselves, then questioned why we have hurricanes.
Hurricanes remind us that we are not God.
And that's a good thing.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Dinora's Priest and Shane Claiborne's "Irresistible Revolution"
Today I was sitting in St. Jerome's Catholic mass for a precious student's Quinceanera, totally enjoying the moment... ok, the mariachi band and film crew from MTV threw me initially, but the priest kept things on track. The stain glass is awesome: there are three exposures--left (south), above the alter, and right, which read in order: "Christ has died", "Christ has risen", "Christ shall come again". Awesome!
Above the alter is a beautiful sculpture of my crucified savior; to the left is an alter to I assume Mary?
So we're worshiping together, and I'm praying for this little sister in Christ and for her precious family, and the priest starts to prepare the elements for the Eucharist (communion), and he says this amazing introductory prayer over the bread... something like, "Lord, we are unworthy to receive these elements... Lord, say the word and Thy servant will be healed." There were tears in my eyes, because I know that there is NOTHING I can do to deserve what Jesus did on the cross; and I am painfully aware that without Christ's mercy and grace, there is no healing for the sin that separates me from His presence.
So I'm sitting there in that pew, tears filling my eyes with an awareness of what Christ has done for an unworthy servant such as myself, and I hear these words: "Only Catholics are allowed to participate in the elements, but if you want a blessing come forward and cross your arms and I will bless you." That means, I will touch your forehead, but you are not invited to the real deal.
This is not the first time I have been un-invited to the Lord's table.
I even thought about going up there and having the priest refuse to share the bread, but that would not honor Christ, only sate my hurt spirit.
So I quietly sat in my pew, finding it difficult to rationalize "being blessed" by the very arm that barred me from my Lord's sacrament.
And then it hit me.
We do the same thing to the homeless.
We bar them from our fellowships.
We gate our communities.
We hire armed guards so we don't have to encounter the homeless or impoverished in our luxurious living.
How is that any different from this Catholic brother who refuses access to Followers of Jesus?
It's really not.
When people buy property for their faith community, do they make sure the location is near the bus routes, or do they tuck it into some suburban neighborhood, barricaded by pedestrian hardship?
Claiborne's book, Irresistible Revolution, is really messing with my Americanized pseudo-Christianity. The Mentor-ship of Campolo is very evident in his writings, reinforced with his eyewitness accounts of living out Christian community in a way that threatens the very fabric of today's empire... Constantine would NOT be amused, but Jesus would smile.
So how do we live out Christ's commands to love your neighbor, sharing all that you have so that no one is needy? How do we step into Christ's command to take up our cross like he did in Jerusalem and follow Him into certain (or at least possible) death? That's crazy talk.
But it's Jesus talk.
And to call Jesus talk "crazy" is to confess that we do not Follow... we simply observe from a safe distance.
It's a lot like the MTV reception following the Mass: the DJ was inviting the young people to come join in the celebration on the dance floor, and the vast majority stood in a scattered semi-circle, far enough from the festivities to be "safe", yet looking earnestly side to side, hoping some of their peers would lead them with those first few steps forward.
Nothing. Fear ruled.
The celebration was only joined when excited participants left the dance floor to come firmly lead their peers back into the festivities.
I ache that someone would come for me... to take my hand and lead me past the limitations of my own fearful faith.
Come Lord Jesus.
Above the alter is a beautiful sculpture of my crucified savior; to the left is an alter to I assume Mary?
So we're worshiping together, and I'm praying for this little sister in Christ and for her precious family, and the priest starts to prepare the elements for the Eucharist (communion), and he says this amazing introductory prayer over the bread... something like, "Lord, we are unworthy to receive these elements... Lord, say the word and Thy servant will be healed." There were tears in my eyes, because I know that there is NOTHING I can do to deserve what Jesus did on the cross; and I am painfully aware that without Christ's mercy and grace, there is no healing for the sin that separates me from His presence.
So I'm sitting there in that pew, tears filling my eyes with an awareness of what Christ has done for an unworthy servant such as myself, and I hear these words: "Only Catholics are allowed to participate in the elements, but if you want a blessing come forward and cross your arms and I will bless you." That means, I will touch your forehead, but you are not invited to the real deal.
This is not the first time I have been un-invited to the Lord's table.
I even thought about going up there and having the priest refuse to share the bread, but that would not honor Christ, only sate my hurt spirit.
So I quietly sat in my pew, finding it difficult to rationalize "being blessed" by the very arm that barred me from my Lord's sacrament.
And then it hit me.
We do the same thing to the homeless.
We bar them from our fellowships.
We gate our communities.
We hire armed guards so we don't have to encounter the homeless or impoverished in our luxurious living.
How is that any different from this Catholic brother who refuses access to Followers of Jesus?
It's really not.
When people buy property for their faith community, do they make sure the location is near the bus routes, or do they tuck it into some suburban neighborhood, barricaded by pedestrian hardship?
Claiborne's book, Irresistible Revolution, is really messing with my Americanized pseudo-Christianity. The Mentor-ship of Campolo is very evident in his writings, reinforced with his eyewitness accounts of living out Christian community in a way that threatens the very fabric of today's empire... Constantine would NOT be amused, but Jesus would smile.
So how do we live out Christ's commands to love your neighbor, sharing all that you have so that no one is needy? How do we step into Christ's command to take up our cross like he did in Jerusalem and follow Him into certain (or at least possible) death? That's crazy talk.
But it's Jesus talk.
And to call Jesus talk "crazy" is to confess that we do not Follow... we simply observe from a safe distance.
It's a lot like the MTV reception following the Mass: the DJ was inviting the young people to come join in the celebration on the dance floor, and the vast majority stood in a scattered semi-circle, far enough from the festivities to be "safe", yet looking earnestly side to side, hoping some of their peers would lead them with those first few steps forward.
Nothing. Fear ruled.
The celebration was only joined when excited participants left the dance floor to come firmly lead their peers back into the festivities.
I ache that someone would come for me... to take my hand and lead me past the limitations of my own fearful faith.
Come Lord Jesus.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Dead Zone
In the last decade increasing evidence made its way into the popular media regarding a phenomenon in the Gulf of Mexico: the Dead Zone.
A dead zone is an area of marine ecosystem relatively devoid of life, hence: "dead"; this abiotic situation is usually attributed to a lack of dissolved oxygen, an elemental limiting factor required by both people and pisces.
The origin of a dead zone is a great ecological paradox; it is caused by too many nutrients in the water. As we began to put down our cell phones and pick up our notepads we began to unravel a forensic event in geographic scale. Farmers, subsidized by cheap petroleum-based fertilizer (primarily nitrates) found it easier to apply this artificial nutrient to their corn crops than to go through the arduous task of organically growing their cash-crop in a sustainable manner. Since this form of nitrogen is very water-soluble, that which is left over is flushed by the next inundation, so farmers err on the side of plenty. Unfortunately all rivers tend to lead to the sea, in this case the Gulf, and with the water flows massive amounts of artificial fertilizer.
So how can fertilizer kill fish? Is it toxic to them?
Not at these levels. No, one must think "macrosystems", the big picture of how organisms interact within an ecosytem. Nutrients are by definition nutritional, so what would benefit from all this nitrogen in the water world? Water plants, obviously.
"Wait-- water plants kill fish?"
Sort of...
Algae love fertilizer, and algae are photosynthetic, which produce oxygen as a by product... so wouldn't artificial fertilizer actually increase the amount of oxygen available to fish? At one glance, certainly.
So what's the problem?
It's artificial.
Meaning, that naturally this much nitrogen is not available on a continuous basis. Algae do not have bank accounts or purchase commodity futures; algae only know "grow and multiply" if there is much nutrition, stabilize if there is just the right amount of fertilizer, or die if there is not enough nutrients to support its population. Any kid who tried to raise a garden can appreciate this.
So what would happen if someone started messing with the levels of nutrients? Bingo!
When all that excess nitrogen hits the aquatic ecosystem, the algae respond like it's springtime all over again and "bloom" into massive population growth. But wait, the farmer stops putting fertilizer on his corn, which now cuts off this waiting mass of downstream phytoplankton, so the algae die off. Nature knows what to do with dead things-- it's called decomposition, and the critters beautifully designed for the job are bacteria. Though there are some exceptions, bacteria are excellent at quickly breaking down dead stuff as long as there is oxygen present in the water. In time the bacteria use up all the oxygen trying to decompose the dead algae that previously bloomed because a farmer used too much federally subsidized, petroleum-based fertilizer to grow a poor food stock for federally mandated ethanol, and now nothing can grow in large regions of the Gulf. So instead of using petroleum products to fuel our vehicles, we use petroleum products to grow our additives, which is then mixed back in with the other petroleum distillates, but now at a larger ecological cost, all in the name of saving the planet.
So in reduction, corn kills. Awesome.
I think that's funny.
I also think it is a metaphor (OK, fine-- to me, everything is a metaphor!)
How often, in trying to be productive in one part of our lives, do we completely trash something else entirely unexpectedly?
And how often in peoples lives does "plenty" result in "devastation"? Proverbs 23 warn us to hold a knife to our own throats when dining with affluent people, because you might develop a taste for their delicacies.
How often do we come away from encounters feeling emptier because of envy? How often do we lose perspective of the blessings we have already received, because a spirit whispers "more" into our contentment?
And why do I feel these dead zones in my own soul, these anoxic nether-regions that persist even though I know the joy of Christ's salvation?
How can I be dead inside? I feel nothing. I hope for nothing. I expect nothing outside of the present, and in that: that God would not leave me in this my final hour.
A dead zone is an area of marine ecosystem relatively devoid of life, hence: "dead"; this abiotic situation is usually attributed to a lack of dissolved oxygen, an elemental limiting factor required by both people and pisces.
The origin of a dead zone is a great ecological paradox; it is caused by too many nutrients in the water. As we began to put down our cell phones and pick up our notepads we began to unravel a forensic event in geographic scale. Farmers, subsidized by cheap petroleum-based fertilizer (primarily nitrates) found it easier to apply this artificial nutrient to their corn crops than to go through the arduous task of organically growing their cash-crop in a sustainable manner. Since this form of nitrogen is very water-soluble, that which is left over is flushed by the next inundation, so farmers err on the side of plenty. Unfortunately all rivers tend to lead to the sea, in this case the Gulf, and with the water flows massive amounts of artificial fertilizer.
So how can fertilizer kill fish? Is it toxic to them?
Not at these levels. No, one must think "macrosystems", the big picture of how organisms interact within an ecosytem. Nutrients are by definition nutritional, so what would benefit from all this nitrogen in the water world? Water plants, obviously.
"Wait-- water plants kill fish?"
Sort of...
Algae love fertilizer, and algae are photosynthetic, which produce oxygen as a by product... so wouldn't artificial fertilizer actually increase the amount of oxygen available to fish? At one glance, certainly.
So what's the problem?
It's artificial.
Meaning, that naturally this much nitrogen is not available on a continuous basis. Algae do not have bank accounts or purchase commodity futures; algae only know "grow and multiply" if there is much nutrition, stabilize if there is just the right amount of fertilizer, or die if there is not enough nutrients to support its population. Any kid who tried to raise a garden can appreciate this.
So what would happen if someone started messing with the levels of nutrients? Bingo!
When all that excess nitrogen hits the aquatic ecosystem, the algae respond like it's springtime all over again and "bloom" into massive population growth. But wait, the farmer stops putting fertilizer on his corn, which now cuts off this waiting mass of downstream phytoplankton, so the algae die off. Nature knows what to do with dead things-- it's called decomposition, and the critters beautifully designed for the job are bacteria. Though there are some exceptions, bacteria are excellent at quickly breaking down dead stuff as long as there is oxygen present in the water. In time the bacteria use up all the oxygen trying to decompose the dead algae that previously bloomed because a farmer used too much federally subsidized, petroleum-based fertilizer to grow a poor food stock for federally mandated ethanol, and now nothing can grow in large regions of the Gulf. So instead of using petroleum products to fuel our vehicles, we use petroleum products to grow our additives, which is then mixed back in with the other petroleum distillates, but now at a larger ecological cost, all in the name of saving the planet.
So in reduction, corn kills. Awesome.
I think that's funny.
I also think it is a metaphor (OK, fine-- to me, everything is a metaphor!)
How often, in trying to be productive in one part of our lives, do we completely trash something else entirely unexpectedly?
And how often in peoples lives does "plenty" result in "devastation"? Proverbs 23 warn us to hold a knife to our own throats when dining with affluent people, because you might develop a taste for their delicacies.
How often do we come away from encounters feeling emptier because of envy? How often do we lose perspective of the blessings we have already received, because a spirit whispers "more" into our contentment?
And why do I feel these dead zones in my own soul, these anoxic nether-regions that persist even though I know the joy of Christ's salvation?
How can I be dead inside? I feel nothing. I hope for nothing. I expect nothing outside of the present, and in that: that God would not leave me in this my final hour.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Reflections on Moldova
I've finally settled back into a normal sleep cycle; awakening at 3:30 am feeling like-I'm-late-for- something was wearisome (Moldova time is 8 hours ahead... 3:30am would be lunch time there.) The main thing I carry with me from Moldova is the people I've met while helping with Operation Mobilization.
I think of Dana, our Romanian guide who tirelessly poured out herself to the children of the poverty-stricken villages; through singing, playing field games and even illusions/tricks she let those children know they were special... precious. Her gentleness and humility were a great asset to her leadership on our trip. She was also hopelessly in love with Eugen, and was constantly texting him during her down time... ah, young love.
Nate Sloan was the energetic catalyst of our team. Nate is a Houston guy, postponing his junior year at Baylor to explore a calling to experience world missions and ending up in Moldova. He was at the end of his term and had become fluent in the language. I love how God used his love of sports and child-like impulsiveness to melt the hearts of the children we met. A classic memory is in the village of Antoneşti-- Nate, the hairy football linebacker is crawling and scrambling all over the playground equipment, much to their delight, evidenced by the squeals of his 'prey'! Or the rough and tumble wrestling match with Iosef. Or the US v. Moldova soccer match in the OM courtyard. Or standing there at the sink in the OM kitchen, washing the dishes of a group that just came in from Canada-- a gracious service to weary brethren and to the kitchen staff who already left for the evening. Or awakening again (roosters start crowing at 4:30 am, dogs never stop barking) at 7 am to the sound of Nate playing his guitar downstairs and singing worship songs to start his day. Inspirational blessing.
I think of Claudia, the OM missionary from Switzerland who also served as translator. Claudia has the heart of a pastor, taking time to listen one-to-one to the children that were lonely, or sensing an opportunity and leading a child to pray to receive Christ. Or taking a moment to listen to the grieving story of a Moldovan woman who is dealing with the scars of breast cancer. Claudia's quiet strength and humility never raised herself up to be recognized; instead she quietly served others and let others experience popularity whose personalities were more atuned to such delicacies.
I am reminded of Brother ("Frate") Nicolai and his wife, Nina, and their seven children. Nicolai has the heart of an apostle, starting 7 churches already and raising up local leaders to tend the first 5. Nicolai often spoke in scriptural metaphor.. if only I knew his language! He started a greenhouse for raising tomatoes and cucumbers, which were served at every meal in all the homes we visited. He took me to visit a retired school master, a mathematics teacher who survived the soviet purges and was hungry to learn about the Bible and things formerly forbidden. Claudia came and interpreted; I don't know what was expected of the encounter, but I know that Nicolai has been praying for the spiritual transformation of this faithful member of his congregation in Antonesch. Nicolai also had a playful spirit, but I'm afraid much was lost in translation. Memories of Nicolai include him stopping off at homes in his little cargo van, delivering food to the needy; going to pick up the children in the second village, Tegheci, fearful that the local authorities would persecute them for playing soccer in the town field because they were from the Bible church (the Orthodox Church is politically connected with the communists in Moldova); practicing English words as earnestly as I was trying out my poor attempts at Moldovan. His children were: Ina,Vera, Iulia, Iosef, Samuel, Abram, and little Valerica.
Other OM friends we met were Eugen, a dear friend of Nates who used his soccer skills to reach the local boys in the village. Also Barb, who was the staff leader there, a Canadian grandmother who has faithfully served there for years, yet longed to return to see her grandchildren in Canada.
Our local contingency from Houston included Dave and Kate Sloan (father and sister of Nate), Bryan and Julian Tantzen (father and son team with soccer skills), and big ol' Jason Roberts. Jason was a favorite target of Abram and Samuel's ninja skills, sometimes reenacting the rise of the Lilliputians on Gulliver! Kate was great at holding and cherishing and loving on the children.
Last of all were the villagers we met in Moldova. I am reminded of Veleri and wife Angelica, faithful Followers who persevere in the last village visited, threatened with death or being burned out of home, and constantly being interrogated by city officials because of their faith in Christ. (God, please heal Angelica, and encourage their 2 boys.) I think of our hosts in Antonesht, Sora ("sister") Maria and husband George, and their precious granddaughter Gabriela-- who like so many children are left behind as parents go off to foreign countries to find some form of employment. I think of how the countenance of the children changed over time, from stoic reservation at our initial coming to the giggling joy they had by the time we left the villages, from trying to encourage the children to come to VBS at first, to have groups of children waiting in the streets to accompany us to VBS in the following days... the smiles that erupted when we called them by name: Ion, Sasha, Roman, Alina, ...God, please remember your children in Moldova.
I encourage each of you to consider some kind of cross-cultural mission experience; it will stretch you! Memorable moments on this trip include: how to use the Moldovan toilet; how to bathe in a foot tub; how to get used to mineral water; how to get by without language skills; how to trust God because of limitations; how much greater love is than knowledge.
ps- thanks to Jason Roberts for the awesome pic of the "white house" at Sora Maria's home. (note: every villager had an outhouse, AND a water well... we didn't drink the water!)
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Together in Jesus
This link goes to the FOM website to a recent lesson I gave on Ephesians.
It's amazing how relevant Moldava's growing church is like the early church.
The lesson is about 25 minutes.
If you listen to it, I'd love to read your comments on what stands out to you, especially in light of the church today, including your life here and now.
Cheers,
jim
It's amazing how relevant Moldava's growing church is like the early church.
The lesson is about 25 minutes.
If you listen to it, I'd love to read your comments on what stands out to you, especially in light of the church today, including your life here and now.
Cheers,
jim
Sunday, July 13, 2008
I'm going to Moldova
I'm going to Moldova today. Number one response: "Where's that?"
Best answer: "Between Romania and Ukraine."
Second common response: "Why?"
Best answer: "I'm not really sure; it was just an opportunity for me to get out of my comfortable little rut, and explore what perhaps God had for me in a world bigger than west Houston."
Second best answer: "I wanted to meet the people of Moldova, experience Christ's church in a different culture, and make myself available for God, however He might use me."
Q? "What are the challenges?"
A. I don't know the language, it costs thousands of bucks to get to a poor country (better stewardship to support a local missionary), poor sanitation, political unrest, I don't know the customs or the culture, I don't really know anybody who is over there, and it's very short term.
Q? "What are the positives?"
A. I will be travelling with friends for most of the journey, they have a contact in Moldova, we are serving a mission agency who will provide an interpreter, I will come away with radically new experiences and relationships, I will need to trust God more, and I have a return ticket.
Best answer: "Between Romania and Ukraine."
Second common response: "Why?"
Best answer: "I'm not really sure; it was just an opportunity for me to get out of my comfortable little rut, and explore what perhaps God had for me in a world bigger than west Houston."
Second best answer: "I wanted to meet the people of Moldova, experience Christ's church in a different culture, and make myself available for God, however He might use me."
Q? "What are the challenges?"
A. I don't know the language, it costs thousands of bucks to get to a poor country (better stewardship to support a local missionary), poor sanitation, political unrest, I don't know the customs or the culture, I don't really know anybody who is over there, and it's very short term.
Q? "What are the positives?"
A. I will be travelling with friends for most of the journey, they have a contact in Moldova, we are serving a mission agency who will provide an interpreter, I will come away with radically new experiences and relationships, I will need to trust God more, and I have a return ticket.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
vandalism
Vandalism. The deliberate action to damage or destroy property belonging to another.
If it does not belong to you, you have no rights to alter it. That's why tagging rail cars is wrong... not because of the art (sometimes awesome work), but because of the ownership.
If someone commissions a tagger to paint a mural, it is not vandalism.
This is not a hard concept.
So what kind of person alters another's property without their authority?
Is a person who does not respect the boundaries of another a trustworth person?
I am reminded yesterday of renting a movie at the local Redbox machine; I'm waiting for my DVD to come out of the machine, and this lady brushes by me to try to jam her DVD into the machine to return it... are you serious? She's reaching AROUND me, in front of her kid, to bypass the international construct of "waiting in line". BTW, I don't want her kid in my science class; sorry...he's already been trained by her to step on others to please herself.
So how much would YOU trust this lady?
Or how much would you trust a stock broker that made unauthorized trades with your account?
The point is not about the isolated actions, it's about the social context within which the action takes place: some lady using a Redbox is not wrong for simply using a Redbox. And a broker investing money is not wrong, that's what they do for a living. It's that when a person demonstrates callous disregard for the wishes of another, their narcissism disqualifies them from relationship. Like a vandal.
So is Jesus a vandal?
What is the character of Jesus?
Will he alter that which is not his?
Or, is it possible that Jesus can be Savior but NOT Lord??
So how is it possible that the Christ who desires intimate relationship with us is denigrated as being impotent, when you or I have yet to fully surrender our lives over to his care?
How can he be transformational, when we leave him outside, still knocking at our door?
And what exactly are we afraid that he'll do??
Is he a vandal?
I think not.
If it does not belong to you, you have no rights to alter it. That's why tagging rail cars is wrong... not because of the art (sometimes awesome work), but because of the ownership.
If someone commissions a tagger to paint a mural, it is not vandalism.
This is not a hard concept.
So what kind of person alters another's property without their authority?
Is a person who does not respect the boundaries of another a trustworth person?
I am reminded yesterday of renting a movie at the local Redbox machine; I'm waiting for my DVD to come out of the machine, and this lady brushes by me to try to jam her DVD into the machine to return it... are you serious? She's reaching AROUND me, in front of her kid, to bypass the international construct of "waiting in line". BTW, I don't want her kid in my science class; sorry...he's already been trained by her to step on others to please herself.
So how much would YOU trust this lady?
Or how much would you trust a stock broker that made unauthorized trades with your account?
The point is not about the isolated actions, it's about the social context within which the action takes place: some lady using a Redbox is not wrong for simply using a Redbox. And a broker investing money is not wrong, that's what they do for a living. It's that when a person demonstrates callous disregard for the wishes of another, their narcissism disqualifies them from relationship. Like a vandal.
So is Jesus a vandal?
What is the character of Jesus?
Will he alter that which is not his?
Or, is it possible that Jesus can be Savior but NOT Lord??
So how is it possible that the Christ who desires intimate relationship with us is denigrated as being impotent, when you or I have yet to fully surrender our lives over to his care?
How can he be transformational, when we leave him outside, still knocking at our door?
And what exactly are we afraid that he'll do??
Is he a vandal?
I think not.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Gasoline2
LOL! I just read the latest newsletter from our Government's "FreedomCar" group, and found the following quote-worthy:
"...between DOE and the U.S. Council for Automotive Research (USCAR), which includes Chrysler LLC, Ford Motor Company, and General Motors Corporation. In 2003, it was expanded to form the FreedomCAR and Fuel Partnership by adding five major energy producers: BP, Chevron, ConocoPhillips, ExxonMobil, and Shell. The new expansion to include utilities..."
Lemme seeeeee... we put Ford, Chrysler and GM in partnership with Exxon, BP, Chevron, Conoco and Shell in order to develop a vehicle that does not use much petroleum?
Are you serious?
Just how important is it for major corperations that make billions of dollars from petroleum and old technology to be catalysts of change away from petroleum and old technology?
It's crunk like this that makes me wanna vote for the Obaminator... we've lost our minds.
"...between DOE and the U.S. Council for Automotive Research (USCAR), which includes Chrysler LLC, Ford Motor Company, and General Motors Corporation. In 2003, it was expanded to form the FreedomCAR and Fuel Partnership by adding five major energy producers: BP, Chevron, ConocoPhillips, ExxonMobil, and Shell. The new expansion to include utilities..."
Lemme seeeeee... we put Ford, Chrysler and GM in partnership with Exxon, BP, Chevron, Conoco and Shell in order to develop a vehicle that does not use much petroleum?
Are you serious?
Just how important is it for major corperations that make billions of dollars from petroleum and old technology to be catalysts of change away from petroleum and old technology?
It's crunk like this that makes me wanna vote for the Obaminator... we've lost our minds.
Friday, June 06, 2008
gasoline
In May 2008 the Big 3 domestic automobile manufacturers posted double-digit losses in car sales. They claim it is the cost of gasoline that is destroying their sales.
Ba-a-a-d gasoline.
Honda Motor Corporation, home of the Civic, posted a double digit increase in US sales for the same time. Hmmmmm. Gasoline didn't destroy their sales, too?
Maybe the gasoline that is bought for a Civic is different than the gasoline that is bought for a 19-mpg F-150?
Surely it has nothing to do with the persistent attitude among US Execs about moving behind the lines of innovation, letting other companies do the cutting-edge R&D, then gobbling them up or purchasing their patents... surely not that.
I mean, that would be bad business, to spend that much money developing a product that people might want, in fact... selling the first few years at a loss instead of marketing bucks, to get your vehicle on the road? What does Toyota know about hybrids, anyway? Nobody's gonna want a Prius, not when we can change the cupholders on our new Chevy Silverado truck, right? I mean... trucks are cool... trucks are good... for God's sake-- trucks are American! (except that Japan truck sales are capturing even more market-share here, too). Besides, how else am I going to haul all that hay and saddles and engine blocks to my downtown, high-rise, air-conditioned office ?
Surely current economics has nothing to do with Corporate Elites upping their proxy-validated share of the pie so they can buy more resort properties for their multiple families, while the working wage of most Americans has not changed in the last few decades. Surely it has nothing to do with protecting the current unspoken caste system, right?
And I haven't even started on the tactics perpetuated by Oil America to keep our culture petroleum-dependent. Energy ExecutivEs would never fleecE their EmployEes and sharEholdErs for the sakE of cooking thEir books and making a bundlE for thEir offshorE accounts, right?
I live in a culture that has at its core an "entitlement to excesses". My President repeatedly uttered his war-cry, "...to protect the American WAY OF LIFE." And we sheep still click our red heels and chant "there's no place like home, there's no place like home."
We are spoiled consumer/sheep!
If a family member cannot find a Wii at BestBuy, well, SOMEBODY's gonna hear about this!!
If a cell phone cannot text, play a movie and serve as a GPS simultaneously, then it must be a piece of crunk and unworthy of consumption.
Unworthy of consumption...?
Is that where we are? doing others favors by using them up?
Is that what "american" means to Corporate USA?
That smacks of suggesting bread-less people eat cake; and the leaders lost more than their minds. No wonder "change" is a winning platform so far.
For the near-term, I predict the Congress and President Obama will perpetuate the madness of "burning the furniture" (aka, tapping Strategic Reserve and drilling in fragile ecosystems) in order to protect Detroit, all the while spinning it as "for the little guy who can't afford gas." It will be a beautiful fiction... stay tuned as we once again lose another window to better our long-term society for the sake of short term stupidity.
So the next time you fill your personal vehicle with $5 gasoline, with all those empty seats and hay-less truck beds, internal combustion engines and non-regenerative brakes, just remember... we have satellites still exploring our solar system and universe with technology developed when they launched decades ago.
There is no gasoline in space.
This is not a stupid statement; it is an accusation.
Ba-a-a-d gasoline.
Honda Motor Corporation, home of the Civic, posted a double digit increase in US sales for the same time. Hmmmmm. Gasoline didn't destroy their sales, too?
Maybe the gasoline that is bought for a Civic is different than the gasoline that is bought for a 19-mpg F-150?
Surely it has nothing to do with the persistent attitude among US Execs about moving behind the lines of innovation, letting other companies do the cutting-edge R&D, then gobbling them up or purchasing their patents... surely not that.
I mean, that would be bad business, to spend that much money developing a product that people might want, in fact... selling the first few years at a loss instead of marketing bucks, to get your vehicle on the road? What does Toyota know about hybrids, anyway? Nobody's gonna want a Prius, not when we can change the cupholders on our new Chevy Silverado truck, right? I mean... trucks are cool... trucks are good... for God's sake-- trucks are American! (except that Japan truck sales are capturing even more market-share here, too). Besides, how else am I going to haul all that hay and saddles and engine blocks to my downtown, high-rise, air-conditioned office ?
Surely current economics has nothing to do with Corporate Elites upping their proxy-validated share of the pie so they can buy more resort properties for their multiple families, while the working wage of most Americans has not changed in the last few decades. Surely it has nothing to do with protecting the current unspoken caste system, right?
And I haven't even started on the tactics perpetuated by Oil America to keep our culture petroleum-dependent. Energy ExecutivEs would never fleecE their EmployEes and sharEholdErs for the sakE of cooking thEir books and making a bundlE for thEir offshorE accounts, right?
I live in a culture that has at its core an "entitlement to excesses". My President repeatedly uttered his war-cry, "...to protect the American WAY OF LIFE." And we sheep still click our red heels and chant "there's no place like home, there's no place like home."
We are spoiled consumer/sheep!
If a family member cannot find a Wii at BestBuy, well, SOMEBODY's gonna hear about this!!
If a cell phone cannot text, play a movie and serve as a GPS simultaneously, then it must be a piece of crunk and unworthy of consumption.
Unworthy of consumption...?
Is that where we are? doing others favors by using them up?
Is that what "american" means to Corporate USA?
That smacks of suggesting bread-less people eat cake; and the leaders lost more than their minds. No wonder "change" is a winning platform so far.
For the near-term, I predict the Congress and President Obama will perpetuate the madness of "burning the furniture" (aka, tapping Strategic Reserve and drilling in fragile ecosystems) in order to protect Detroit, all the while spinning it as "for the little guy who can't afford gas." It will be a beautiful fiction... stay tuned as we once again lose another window to better our long-term society for the sake of short term stupidity.
So the next time you fill your personal vehicle with $5 gasoline, with all those empty seats and hay-less truck beds, internal combustion engines and non-regenerative brakes, just remember... we have satellites still exploring our solar system and universe with technology developed when they launched decades ago.
There is no gasoline in space.
This is not a stupid statement; it is an accusation.
Monday, May 26, 2008
With
Reading the NT I am struck with Jesus' passionate fixation about togetherness. When he speaks to his disciples, it's not about the mansion, it's about who is there, WITH him.
I think it is fascinating how we, in the US, mistranslate the Greek to read, "there are many mansions...", when a better rendering would be "many quarters..."; the NIV does a better job with: "are many rooms...".
So it's about being together in the Father's House, not streets of gold; it's not about getting some fancy mansion, one for each...
How many Americans would fall away from their idea of faith if it were revealed that heaven is really just one big youth hostel where everybody shares what they have with their roommates, and everybody eats rice, beans and corn tortillas?
Or better, how many would flock to the loving, passionate embrace of Jesus when they found out it wasn't about marble alters, red carpet and golden candleholders? :)
That the streets of gold have nothing to do with the inhabitants? that all present are simple sharecroppers of faith, humbly and simply living in borrowed space, paid for by Another?
Would it matter?
Would we get it?
Or do we just like the "jesus" thing because he makes bread happen?
I think it is fascinating how we, in the US, mistranslate the Greek to read, "there are many mansions...", when a better rendering would be "many quarters..."; the NIV does a better job with: "are many rooms...".
So it's about being together in the Father's House, not streets of gold; it's not about getting some fancy mansion, one for each...
How many Americans would fall away from their idea of faith if it were revealed that heaven is really just one big youth hostel where everybody shares what they have with their roommates, and everybody eats rice, beans and corn tortillas?
Or better, how many would flock to the loving, passionate embrace of Jesus when they found out it wasn't about marble alters, red carpet and golden candleholders? :)
That the streets of gold have nothing to do with the inhabitants? that all present are simple sharecroppers of faith, humbly and simply living in borrowed space, paid for by Another?
Would it matter?
Would we get it?
Or do we just like the "jesus" thing because he makes bread happen?
Saturday, April 26, 2008
crepusculance
I seem to be most Aware when God's Creation seems most active.
It is the mid of day or the nigh of night that I become cloaked with some creeping form of distraction and/or self-absorption.
My scariest dreams are those that do not involve God, but instead pit my natural complement of forces against any Nemesis. I am doomed.
Perhaps my day becomes clouded with caffeination, a process not unlike the childhood experience of simultaneously striking several keys from an manual typewriter, causing a tinny coagulation of typeface at the ribbon.
Perhaps my crepuscular freedom is simply being loosened of expectation, to be able to focus on something, or worse, comprehend during the initial reading of some form of written word. (Seriously; how many times do I have to read a phrase to understand what the #&$%! I'm reading. My poor biology students...)
I think is has something to do with peace in the natural order of things-- I see birds gleaning berries in the morning dew, not concerned with what they might have to do come this summer; squirrels playing in trees openly, uncompressed by the fear of predation.
If God cares for the birds, how much more would he care for me, right?
Except I know me; you don't.
I can see how God cherishes you, and will take care of you and tend you and love on you, because you are not like me. I know me, and God knows me.
That is why I am comfortable in the servants' quarters, not so much the Big House. The prodigal has come home, but never entered the banquet room.
Pitiful.
So perhaps the beginning of the morning or the beginning of the evening is a window of hope for things to change?
Perhaps I won't say something stupid or hurtful today?
Perhaps I won't be mean-spirited today?
Think brutal thoughts today?
Barricade myself in with fear-induced mental constructs and strategies today?
Nope... screwed that one up already.
Maybe this evening?
Father forgive me, for I have sinned.
It is the mid of day or the nigh of night that I become cloaked with some creeping form of distraction and/or self-absorption.
My scariest dreams are those that do not involve God, but instead pit my natural complement of forces against any Nemesis. I am doomed.
Perhaps my day becomes clouded with caffeination, a process not unlike the childhood experience of simultaneously striking several keys from an manual typewriter, causing a tinny coagulation of typeface at the ribbon.
Perhaps my crepuscular freedom is simply being loosened of expectation, to be able to focus on something, or worse, comprehend during the initial reading of some form of written word. (Seriously; how many times do I have to read a phrase to understand what the #&$%! I'm reading. My poor biology students...)
I think is has something to do with peace in the natural order of things-- I see birds gleaning berries in the morning dew, not concerned with what they might have to do come this summer; squirrels playing in trees openly, uncompressed by the fear of predation.
If God cares for the birds, how much more would he care for me, right?
Except I know me; you don't.
I can see how God cherishes you, and will take care of you and tend you and love on you, because you are not like me. I know me, and God knows me.
That is why I am comfortable in the servants' quarters, not so much the Big House. The prodigal has come home, but never entered the banquet room.
Pitiful.
So perhaps the beginning of the morning or the beginning of the evening is a window of hope for things to change?
Perhaps I won't say something stupid or hurtful today?
Perhaps I won't be mean-spirited today?
Think brutal thoughts today?
Barricade myself in with fear-induced mental constructs and strategies today?
Nope... screwed that one up already.
Maybe this evening?
Father forgive me, for I have sinned.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Cornel West and the Yellow-Breasted Chat
I miss most of it.
Sitting in a room, or at a computer, or in traffic, I miss most of what life offers.
Even now, a half-full cup of coffee grows cold on my back porch as I sit here in this darkened room, listening to car alarms, and trying to gather my thoughts, thankful that my 1040 is in on time but mindful that I'm a day behind on my OYB.
I remember seeing the bird a year ago, but never taking the time to research it's handle.
Yellow-breasted chat. This year my annual mulberry visitor has been visually and vocally verified. And now I wonder... how many years has he been visiting my backyard when the mulberry tree shares its fruits to my avian friends? How many of its generations have partaken of this arboreal banquet, and I'm just now getting a clue?
Eddie Carson is a valued friend and colleague at HCHS.
Eddie is not normal.
Praise God.
Eddie is constantly challenging me to expand my awareness of my world.
And my dingy little construct of "normal" bears some expanding.
Carson yesterday shared with me a text, Race Matters, by Cornel West, and I am just starting to peruse his pensively penned piece, increasingly aware that I have no idea how many parts of my surrounding environs live each day.
What would it be like to wait on a corner downtown for a taxi, watching said conveyance pass me bye repeatedly, for an hour, yet stopping for those who have less melanin?
How would that mark me?
Would I allow it?
Would it make me stronger or wear me down?
How have I been the taxi driver?
Am I even aware?
Do I even know if I change my behaviors upon cognition of plumage, or do I operate on some unconscious or subconscious plan?
God, help me be a better man.
Sitting in a room, or at a computer, or in traffic, I miss most of what life offers.
Even now, a half-full cup of coffee grows cold on my back porch as I sit here in this darkened room, listening to car alarms, and trying to gather my thoughts, thankful that my 1040 is in on time but mindful that I'm a day behind on my OYB.
I remember seeing the bird a year ago, but never taking the time to research it's handle.
Yellow-breasted chat. This year my annual mulberry visitor has been visually and vocally verified. And now I wonder... how many years has he been visiting my backyard when the mulberry tree shares its fruits to my avian friends? How many of its generations have partaken of this arboreal banquet, and I'm just now getting a clue?
Eddie Carson is a valued friend and colleague at HCHS.
Eddie is not normal.
Praise God.
Eddie is constantly challenging me to expand my awareness of my world.
And my dingy little construct of "normal" bears some expanding.
Carson yesterday shared with me a text, Race Matters, by Cornel West, and I am just starting to peruse his pensively penned piece, increasingly aware that I have no idea how many parts of my surrounding environs live each day.
What would it be like to wait on a corner downtown for a taxi, watching said conveyance pass me bye repeatedly, for an hour, yet stopping for those who have less melanin?
How would that mark me?
Would I allow it?
Would it make me stronger or wear me down?
How have I been the taxi driver?
Am I even aware?
Do I even know if I change my behaviors upon cognition of plumage, or do I operate on some unconscious or subconscious plan?
God, help me be a better man.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Little birdies
Some would consider me a bit of an outdoorsman. My favorite weapon is the bow and arrow. I've slain wild beasts with my bare hands and a knife. I cannot only kill 'em, I can clean 'em and cook 'em. I'm no stranger to hard work, especially if I'm helping someone else and it involves construction. And I like birdies.
Since I was a small child, I have been fascinated with wild creatures, from ants to dragonflies to whatever keeps digging in my trash. When I started studies at A&M, I learned there was a taxonomy for non-game birds beyond "some kinda cheechee bird".
Though I have SO much to learn about God's creation, I find birding a rewarding recreation. Perhaps it is because they are vocal, and I am attention deficit.
Perhaps it is because I know the common locals, so I feel some form of competence.
Or perhaps I'm just an over-grown kid who still gets lit up by some new bird call or some new species eating mulberries in my backyard.
So next hunting season, don't be surprised if my arrows never leave the quiver, and my field guide shows wear and tear.
That's how I roll.
Since I was a small child, I have been fascinated with wild creatures, from ants to dragonflies to whatever keeps digging in my trash. When I started studies at A&M, I learned there was a taxonomy for non-game birds beyond "some kinda cheechee bird".
Though I have SO much to learn about God's creation, I find birding a rewarding recreation. Perhaps it is because they are vocal, and I am attention deficit.
Perhaps it is because I know the common locals, so I feel some form of competence.
Or perhaps I'm just an over-grown kid who still gets lit up by some new bird call or some new species eating mulberries in my backyard.
So next hunting season, don't be surprised if my arrows never leave the quiver, and my field guide shows wear and tear.
That's how I roll.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Plant sperm
How weird is it that we talk about allergy season, about pollen, but we never make the connection: pollen is plant sperm.
Not that there's a huge awakening to be anticipated in this botanical epiphany; just a sober confession that it's not always about us.
The flash flood brings much needed sediments to the vegetation of the flood plane.
The hurricane and tornado trims back old growth and resets the seral timeline.
The plague serves the ambiant carrying capacity for all things K-strategic.
Even war (read your Old Testament) has a balancing role in Creation.
Unfortunately we continue to build cities in deserts, neighborhoods on new flood planes (the concrete/freeway/parkinglot-induced runoff has to flow somewhere), landscape our communities with specimens better served in jungles, and bulldoze our forests for ethanol or even... shrimp?
Once upon a time there was God, and He created a Garden.
And God created adam to tenderly work the Garden.
And adam sneezed, and it was good.
Not that there's a huge awakening to be anticipated in this botanical epiphany; just a sober confession that it's not always about us.
The flash flood brings much needed sediments to the vegetation of the flood plane.
The hurricane and tornado trims back old growth and resets the seral timeline.
The plague serves the ambiant carrying capacity for all things K-strategic.
Even war (read your Old Testament) has a balancing role in Creation.
Unfortunately we continue to build cities in deserts, neighborhoods on new flood planes (the concrete/freeway/parkinglot-induced runoff has to flow somewhere), landscape our communities with specimens better served in jungles, and bulldoze our forests for ethanol or even... shrimp?
Once upon a time there was God, and He created a Garden.
And God created adam to tenderly work the Garden.
And adam sneezed, and it was good.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Apes with Wallets
I'm about done!
How long?
How long will media perpetuate the notion that we are brute beasts, locked into basic instincts that are beyond our self-control?
As a youthworker I first experienced this awakening when listening to the jargon associated with young people, sex and condoms. The argument went something like, "Well, teenagers are just dogs in heat, so you can't keep them pure, so make 'em use a condom... it's safe sex."
Which is a lie from the pit.
The students I worked with were intelligent, insightful and more disciplined than the political socialists that were polluting our times with their propoganda.
That's the problem.
Because if an impulsive teenager is able to discern, then they are less likely to spend Daddy's money on some shiney trinket from Apple or Motorola. So... create the notion in an inverted delivery that students are endangering themselves (faux concern), because they are not "taking precautions" (condom= safety belt?), and since they can't help themselves (the lie), society must educate them (propoganda).
Horse hockey.
Is it any wonder these last few generations of adolescents have felt betrayed and abandoned by their elders? Is it any wonder that piercings, tatoos, and self-mutilation are increasing geometrically with every year? The pain has to reside somewhere...
And the worst part is, this latest generation of youth don't even know it's happening (think A&F or Hollister).
When the social experiment is finished, and we've been reduced to apes with wallets, what happens when we lose our wallets? (How much Mandarin do YOU speak?)
How long?
How long will media perpetuate the notion that we are brute beasts, locked into basic instincts that are beyond our self-control?
As a youthworker I first experienced this awakening when listening to the jargon associated with young people, sex and condoms. The argument went something like, "Well, teenagers are just dogs in heat, so you can't keep them pure, so make 'em use a condom... it's safe sex."
Which is a lie from the pit.
The students I worked with were intelligent, insightful and more disciplined than the political socialists that were polluting our times with their propoganda.
That's the problem.
Because if an impulsive teenager is able to discern, then they are less likely to spend Daddy's money on some shiney trinket from Apple or Motorola. So... create the notion in an inverted delivery that students are endangering themselves (faux concern), because they are not "taking precautions" (condom= safety belt?), and since they can't help themselves (the lie), society must educate them (propoganda).
Horse hockey.
Is it any wonder these last few generations of adolescents have felt betrayed and abandoned by their elders? Is it any wonder that piercings, tatoos, and self-mutilation are increasing geometrically with every year? The pain has to reside somewhere...
And the worst part is, this latest generation of youth don't even know it's happening (think A&F or Hollister).
When the social experiment is finished, and we've been reduced to apes with wallets, what happens when we lose our wallets? (How much Mandarin do YOU speak?)
Friday, February 22, 2008
Amazingly Faithless?
Mark 6:1-3 "...they were amazed. 'Where did this man get these things?' they asked. 'What's this wisdom that has been given to him, and he even does miracles.' Isn't this the carpenter? ...And they took offense at him."
They took offense at him.
They observed he had amazing insights and wisdom.
They took offense at him.
They knew he even healed the sick.
They took offense at him.
We take offense at him. "Who gives you the right...?"
"Your Jesus is not my jesus."
"...But, I don't want to." --What? Die to yourself?
They took offense at him.
v.6... and he was amazed at their lack of faith.
They took offense at him.
They observed he had amazing insights and wisdom.
They took offense at him.
They knew he even healed the sick.
They took offense at him.
We take offense at him. "Who gives you the right...?"
"Your Jesus is not my jesus."
"...But, I don't want to." --What? Die to yourself?
They took offense at him.
v.6... and he was amazed at their lack of faith.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Confessions, part 1
Matthew 27:41-42 "In the same way the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders mocked him. "He saved others," they said, "but he can't save himself! He's the King of Israel! Let him come down from the cross...' "
So they acknowledge that He saved others.
They acknowledge that, yet they pressed for his illegal execution.
They put him on the cross, then challenged God, to His face, to dare bring him down-- so that THEN they would worship Him.
Right.
So they acknowledge that He saved others.
They acknowledge that, yet they pressed for his illegal execution.
They put him on the cross, then challenged God, to His face, to dare bring him down-- so that THEN they would worship Him.
Right.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Texas Springtime?
As I look outside at the blaring sunlight this February morning, it strikes me that Spring has sprung. Perhaps it is the flowers that are erupting; perhaps the temperature already in the 70's. Perhaps it's the singing of the mockingbird and the white-winged dove, not the casual winter ditty, but a heart-felt serenade; or maybe the 3 species of butterfly that just fluttered by my window. And even though the scarlet oak has clung to some of its plumage to this point, there is the tender pale green growth of my shrub's apical meristem.
It's the upper Texas Gulf Coast, where the saying goes, "If you don't like the weather, wait a minute." Even now clouds are shrouding what once was a clear morning. As my hot tea grows cold, I can see once again the Metaphors of God outside my window pane. Things change; people dye and die and are born and borne up. There is so much going on, most of which is simple distraction and mindlessness, that we miss the yodel of the blue jay, proclaiming his recent victory over the the recent plague which erased every jay in my neighborhood, killed by mosquitoes tracing their bloodline to a traveling Yankee. Crazy.
So things change in the midst of being the same.
The sun is shining again.
God, grant me the serenity to not miss it.
It's the upper Texas Gulf Coast, where the saying goes, "If you don't like the weather, wait a minute." Even now clouds are shrouding what once was a clear morning. As my hot tea grows cold, I can see once again the Metaphors of God outside my window pane. Things change; people dye and die and are born and borne up. There is so much going on, most of which is simple distraction and mindlessness, that we miss the yodel of the blue jay, proclaiming his recent victory over the the recent plague which erased every jay in my neighborhood, killed by mosquitoes tracing their bloodline to a traveling Yankee. Crazy.
So things change in the midst of being the same.
The sun is shining again.
God, grant me the serenity to not miss it.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Haulin' Bones
Exodus 13:19—“Moses took the bones of Joseph with him, because Joseph had made the sons of Israel swear an oath.”
Picture this: Moses trying to herd the sheep of Israel through uncharted lands, constantly battling whining and mutiny in the ranks, and on top of that he’s having to haul the bones of a dead ancestor.
It’s 2008 AD and families are still doing this.
How much of the patterns of interaction between our families, the disputes, the alliances, have NOTHING to do with us personally, but are instead some sicko hand-me-down from a parent or grandparent to whom we feel an allegiance?
How often do we replace an opportunity for reconciliation with a response that perpetuates our role as pallbearers?
Contrast that with the command of Christ to die to ourselves, to take up our cross, and to follow Him; to consider family as strangers for the sake of cross; to return good for evil. No wonder our families cried out, “Crucify!” No wonder the churches of today often live out the insanity of our forefathers, deciding what families are in or out based on old history.
I wonder how our present families would be different, if we put old bones to rest and used that energy to nourish the living amongst us?
Picture this: Moses trying to herd the sheep of Israel through uncharted lands, constantly battling whining and mutiny in the ranks, and on top of that he’s having to haul the bones of a dead ancestor.
It’s 2008 AD and families are still doing this.
How much of the patterns of interaction between our families, the disputes, the alliances, have NOTHING to do with us personally, but are instead some sicko hand-me-down from a parent or grandparent to whom we feel an allegiance?
How often do we replace an opportunity for reconciliation with a response that perpetuates our role as pallbearers?
Contrast that with the command of Christ to die to ourselves, to take up our cross, and to follow Him; to consider family as strangers for the sake of cross; to return good for evil. No wonder our families cried out, “Crucify!” No wonder the churches of today often live out the insanity of our forefathers, deciding what families are in or out based on old history.
I wonder how our present families would be different, if we put old bones to rest and used that energy to nourish the living amongst us?
Monday, January 21, 2008
Take this job and...
Thessalonians 4:11... "Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands, just as we told you,..."
I am amazed how many times the scriptures mention work of one's hands. And if you go to BibleGateway and do a search on "work", well you may as well pour yourself another cup of coffee because you have a lot of references to read through.
Work is obviously important; even the God of the universe spent the vast majority of what we call time in this mode. So why are some so unsatisfied in their jobs?
This morning I read an interesting piece by William C. Taylor about the four things that are correlated to job satisfaction: 1) Does your company make a difference in the world? 2) Do you like the people you work with? 3) Does your opinion count? and 4) are you challenged to learn new things in a changing world? The hidden fifth question, which has little bearing on actual satisfaction, is how much money it pays.
Which is sorta funny when we hear people say their job doesn't pay enough, or when the boss thinks solving employee satisfaction is to give them a raise. Sure it's nice to be rewarded ($) for hard work, but if you hate showing up on Monday morning, and you know you are going to die any day now, what's the point? How many miserable, empty-souled rich people are already out there? Consider our Christian missionaries...How many genuinely satisfied families are on the edge of poverty yet thankful to God for the simple meal before them? and why does our culture insist on perpetuating the notion that money = happiness? Is it the "emperor's new clothes"? Which makes me wonder, "What are we trying to hide?"
Our own emptiness?
Is that why some extremely wealthy people are soul-suckers? They derive pleasure in creating in others the same horrible feelings they hide behind their facade of austerity? Like the "apprentice of despair" cascading like dominoes of soul-death into some morbid fellowship? And minions flocking around their feet like so many pigeons in a park.
Crazy.
How many times do we say, "No thank you, I'm quite content," where we stare into the face of more-ness and shrug at it's impotent power? Perhaps that's why I love the apostle Paul's approach to each day: "I might live today and get to be with friends, or they may kill me and I get to be with Christ... either way, it's all good." Or the writer of Proverbs when he writes to put your own knife to your throat when the rich offer you delicacies, so that you don't develop cravings you can't afford.
Simple is good. I'd rather have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with friends, than lobster and champagne with people I don't trust.
As you walk into the rest of your day, may God grant you the serenity to slow down, cast your cares on Him, and see the beauty around you, whether in the face of a loved one or the simple flutter of a pigeon on the canvas of a wind-swept sky.
You are Beloved of Him.
True satisfaction.
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