Father God, thank you

Heavenly Father,

Thank You for the hope we have in your Son.

Thank You for the love we share in true fellowship with friends and in Your family.

Thank You for the Scriptures, the prophetic accounts of our crazy relationship with you through time, a form of insanity where we rebel against Your love, You punish us with war, drought and pestilence but only to draw us back to You. You are the ultimate source of our completeness, so for You to NOT have us seek You or come back completely surrendered to Your Presence would mean that You do not really have our best interests in heart.

Thank You for not giving us what we want.

Thank You for giving us what we truly need.

Thank You for tearing down our idols, stripping us down to that place where we desperately cling to You, not because You are cruel like our earthly relationships, but because You really ARE the ultimate source of Joy and fulfillment.

Thank You, Father, for the gift of your Son.

Jesus, thank you for loving us so much that you CHOSE to die in our place; you did nothing wrong, but loved us so much you traded places on that cross... you could have fled the garden; instead you walked into the hands of fallen mankind.

Please show us how to surrender in Love this new year to the will of the Father, dying to ourselves.

Please show us how to introduce others to the love of the Father without judging others, but by living out of His Love so much that it overflows into a lonely, distracted world that has been seduced into thinking its greatest source of pleasure is within itself.

Thank You for the holy Scriptures, the plumb-line of Your Will.

You are so good... so very good.

Thank you for all the events of this last year. Your Name be glorified, Father.

Jim 2009

Why HP should pay for it's crimes against humanity

So I was writing an email to a friend while waiting on hold with HP, and thought it would be fun to record the process; though short-lived in real time, it was humorous in retrospect, so I tweeked it for Blogdom. My friend and I exchange thoughts in a manner that fully embraces our distractability with the acronym: ADDPDE-- Attention Deficit Disorder Progressive Distraction Events. The reader has been warned. Here goes:

Twenty-Two minutes and fifty--nope, wait: Twenty-three minutes! and counting, as I listen to the HP call center blast th-- [sudden disruption of writing process] My previous rant is interrupted by "Mike"-- Mike works for HP. A pox on HP; Lord, protect Mike.

Oooohhhh...UUuuugh.... YAHAAHHH! CRrrrrrrrrRRRAAAAP!

My following exclamation came after my conversation with Mike, who it just so happens answered after over 23 minutes of listening to painful... painful advertising by HP by a lady who was probably pretty as a teenager but started smoking cigarettes at a young age to get that announcer voice to help create a vocation. And she said-- wait: I shall name her Betty: Betty said, repeatedly, that if I wanted all the problems I could possibly want solved with the HP products, then I should go to HP dot com slash go slash support. And I did.
Twice I followed Betty's advice entering information before I could pass through the next portal. Both times finally getting to the link that invites me to click here to chat with a support person: thank heavens. Click: "server unavailable blah blah cheap-butt excuse thingy"! YAAHHH!
So after 23 minutes of waiting on my cell-phone, stymied by the HP servers not working (I thought they made servers?), Mike saves me.
(A pox on HP; Lord, protect Mike.)
So Mike comes to my rescue except I think he's playing video games or something because there were a couple of times where he did that Doug-the-dog: "Squirrel!!"--listen thing? but there was nothing said... just this open space and so I ask if he's still there, and he says yes, but he seems annoyed because I asked, except maybe i was hoping he would ask me what he could do for me or something? right?

WAIT-- you don't know why I yelled "crap", which is not a great word, but I know a lot worse ones that I don't use, except for shock value from close friends who would never expect it from me, but it's naughty either way, ... I digress.
So I'm unpacking my HP Deskjet4480 that I bought the other day thinking that one day I actually might need to print out something at home. It was the cheapest thing they had at Office Depot that didn't look like it was already broken.
I get everything out, including the happy little instruction fold-out/paint by the numbers/page and I'm following these steps because I'm thinking: I might want to print out some stuff for Ecuador-- afterall, I'm going there tomorrow.
Step one is easy enough: take off the blue tape that's holding the paper tray up like the hand of a child in the back of the line who is trying to ask permission to go potty but is afraid if they interrupt or yell they will embarrass themselves worse than drooling cheese on a keyboard [inside joke].
Step two is related, for when the powerful blue tape is removed, the tray reveals some cardboard cutout that is jammed up in the poor machine, and the cartoon shows clearly through the transitional pictures that this piece of cardboard does not belong.
I will not go through each step. I will say that there is within my heart this little boy who is sometimes afraid of breaking something if he's not careful, which is why sometimes it takes me a little longer to assemble things-- like this wonderful, inexpensive printer/scanner/copier.
So I'm putting it all together, and it really is a simple process: the cartoons have not lied, nor have they been hard to understand. So I get the ink loaded, the power cord assembled and plugged in, the paper loaded, the "alignment page" printed and then rescanned back into the machine so that the print heads can self-align themselves based on the self-scan of the alignment page.
Sweet. I can do this. No plastic fragments falling off. I've not broken it, nay verily, I'm feeling more Master than toad, and then you get to the part about Mac or PC, and since I have a Mac, I skip down to the picture that shows you where the USB cable is connected from the printer to the USB port on the Mac: I find the plug port, though it is black on black and would have been a little challenging had not the cartoon been so well done. So all I need to do is plug the cable in.
Now where did I set that cable?
Looking.
Looking in box... nooo?; looking all over table-top, under papers, behind stuff that could only hide a cable if I accidently threw it... noooo?.
I look on the floor; maybe it dropped out of the box... noooo?.
I check the box again, this time palpating every crack that might hide the cable in some cool Chinese-designed packaging foam compartment... noooo?.
Dang it!! They forgot to pack the stupid cable in my box!!
So I call Mike.
So I'm waiting in cyber-limbo-hell listening to Betty lie to poor fools who would do anything rather than listen to the overdriven saxophone belt out simple jazz to a captive audience, lying to them by saying they should go online because it's faster, people who would do just that, but who probably couldn't because they, like me bought an HP product, and unlike me--they probably bought a PC and thereby showing Betty to be the Uber-cruel witch that she really must be. website... pshaw.
So Mike actually asks me how he can help me, and I come right to it and tell him HP forgot to pack the USB cable in the printer box.
"I understand. I hear that a lot," says Mike, who now is no longer playing Peggle but actually listening to a customer. And I'm thinking if he hears this alot, maybe the Chinese factory thats using the slave labor should maybe chop some fingers or something to get some action going on stopping that pattern when Mike continues, "HP doesn't provide the cables for their printers."
WHAT??!!!
WHATT??!!!!
"So Mike, You're telling me that HP sells printers to people so that when they buy them, they can't use them?"
"Well, they sell the cables at stores," says Mike. "Besides, it says so right on the box that they don't have cables."
"Where!?", I demand.
"I dunno, but I know it says so on the box."
"Where? I can't find it... not on this side; not on this side; ope! here it says 'certified USB HighSpeed'; nothing I can see that says 'no cable'."
"Well I know it's there somewhere. It's gotta be..."
"Nothing on this side; nor this last side. Let's look at the bottom... nope not there, either."
"Well if they forgot to put it on the box", says Mikey, "they screwed up because HP's don't come with cables."
"What if it's hidden on top by a sticker from shipping?"
"WAIT--THERE it is, next to the shipping tag." [A little note the size of a fortune cookie script right next to a small picture of a USB cable saying "(not included)" though it's there with all the other pictures in the part that says "Contents or Contenu de l'emballage"].
"So Mike, I've been on the cell phone for half an hour waiting on HP to tell me they don't pack printer cables with their printers because it's hard to see on top of the box? I gotta go."
And that's when I wrote "crap".
The end.

Before Christ, retro blog

So a while back I thought I had posted my Advent cry, my shaking-of-the-fists at the misuse of Rudolf and Charlie Brown and Frosty to seduce us into hedonistic consumerism. I was wrong. So here is a piece I wrote a few years ago; not perfect, but it speaks to me like a timeless echo:

“BC- Before Christ?” *

This time of year whispers premonitions, forthcoming shadows of seasons to come.

It starts in parking lots. That sort of makes sense, considering that erecting seven-foot Mylar globes (festooned with appropriate props to elucidate the thought, “ornament”) is a space-intensive process in a venue that will soon be crammed with frantic frenzy-feeders, omnivores not likely appreciative of the pragmatics of preparation when it impacts THEIR steed’s stall.

Parking lots during the holidays remind me of the “canyonlands” of Western lore, those secretive coves from which the guys in the black hats take shots at you, or perhaps offer a hidden valley around the next corner… a place you go not knowing what to expect, yet wearing a robe of visceral apprehension that hopes to cry out, “Don’t hit my car,” or “Hey- I’m on my way to that parking space for which I’ve been waiting for five minutes.”

Or maybe parking lots are the metaphor of lost-ness our culture proudly displays, thinking we’ve arrived while not even beginning, a starting point for a quest to seek, nay verily, to capture that sacred object and transport said trinket back to our storehouses (perhaps stopping first at gift wrap, of course).

Or maybe it represents the chaos of chasing wind, a myopic madness that perpetuates itself into the GNP only to be later assessed as taxes for the new land-fill. Chaos that knows that something should happen, and happen quickly, and if it doesn’t happen, well you’re just…. just… not good, or something! Chaos that feels the tug of things still undone, couples it with a due date, and frames it with Precious Memories.

Chaos and lost-ness are not new to me. I remember a time of my own, a time of fear and shame, a time when I did not know if I were truly loved or just “handy” for parental-peer accolades; a time of depressive darkness that hung so thickly that I could not differentiate my despair from my childhood asthma. I remember the pumped up pressure to perform or better yet, pretend. I remember what it was to be lost amongst a crowd, not in a mall, but in a church congregation. I remember the hungering question, not unlike a boy getting socks instead of a pocketknife, “Is this it?”

Enter: the donkey. Not a stallion, not a burley mule; just the donkey of a Palestinian tradesman in the occupied territories of Israel, a scene right out of the pages of Life magazine or some other photo-journalistic record. I remember the story since childhood, how this girl got pregnant with God, and decanted Hope from the dregs of daily life. The scene was not cute; it was cruel. There were no bathrobes, just impoverished people lost in the chaos of trying to find a space… and most of them missed it. Too busy trying to find their own place to park.

I praise God for the memories of what it was like before Christ: the loneliness, the despair, the empty searching. It reminds me I don’t ever want to go back to Egypt, and it garners for me the hope for others who do not yet understand what is so Good about the news that a child was born in Bethlehem. Come Lord Jesus.

* Jim K. Kelley, November 15, 2004

Look how far we've come?

So I'm sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a simple cup of fresh coffee, sweetened with honey and the sight of white-winged doves at my backyard feeder, and the phone rings. Normally the answering machine is on, but this time it's not so I once again do something stupid- I pick up the phone.
"Hello? Is this James Kelley"
Who's calling, please?
"Mr. Kelley this is Gretchin calling for Bank of Am to let you know we want to send you your credit report for free in your next statement. You can also have a chance to try out our new security program and cancel it after 30 days if you don't like it. Would you like a free credit report?""
Uhh, sure... great
"OK Mr. Kelley, I'm going to just turn on the recorder and ask you a few questions, ok?"
I guess
"OK Mr. Kelley,..." (blah, blah--she asks me all these questions to pin me down that I really am who I am and then she says...) "so we would like to send you a free credit report and have you be a part of the security program xyz to monitor your balances [because we don't really monitor your money while people hack and steal it?] for fraud and if you are dissatisfied at anytime within the first month you simply call and we STOP BILLING YOU." ( I interupt)
WAIT! I thought you said the credit report you were sending was free?
"Oh it is, and the security program blahblha can be discontinued at any time within the first month free of charge.."
WAIT, so what happens if I FORGET to call the first month to cancel?
"Oh, well we will simply bill your account the low cost of $12.95 a month, every month--It's really a good deal..." [yeah for Bank of Am]
WAIT-- I don't want to pay ANYTHING... [did ya get that on your recorder?]
"Thank you Mr. Kelley and have a good day---click!"
----
So how many billions of dollars is Bank of America going to leach out of customers who simply wanted to see their credit report without the circuitous maze of getting it online for themselves?
How many Americans are going to ask their spouse, "Honey, what this security cost thing on the bank statement?" >"I don't know-- how much is it?" >"$12.95" ?"I dunno-- I wouldn't worry about it..."
And so the trickle goes.
Is it any wonder our economy is the way it is? Is it any wonder we are 2 years away from incredible "unforseen" tax-rates?
Is it any wonder that, once again, it's chevy truck month?
It's because we are sheep.
It's because we are lazy, fat sheep asleep at the wheel, and there is a world of parasitic people and organizations that are filling a huge niche of sucking off the excesses of our culture. We work 60 hour weeks to make more money than we can monitor, causing increased stress-related illness and death...and why?
Parasites have an important role in all ecosytems ; they also can be used as an index to health of the host.
So I wonder how healthy our American culture is? Or at least my little microcosm down by the Gulf Coast?
I was visiting with our school chaplain, Lisa P, after the girls' tough volleyball game, and we were discussing the difficulty of doing life here. In the Keys it's not as driven, not as non-stop-- in the Keys there is down time to get centered/balanced/grounded/whatever. Not so much here. --I vaguely knew what she meant, but only because of my Horrible year bringing me to my knees, eviscerating my life and creating space to experience God where I had only a cube to fit God into my calendar. He was there in my routine, but He only got a cube.
God forgive us; we know not what we do.

Sifting to Shelving

Listening to Charles Stanley this morning, I heard an amazing message that I need to write down somewhere. He was reading the scripture where Jesus was telling Peter that Satan was about to sift him.

The purpose of Satan's "siftings" is not to just attack us; the purpose of the attack is to overwhelm us with such guilt and shame that we remove ourselves from serving Jesus with our lives... we put ourselves on the shelf, no longer in a position or disposition to be an agent of loving transformation, no longer messengers of salvation.

Jesus allows the sifting because he has an Amazing plan ahead for us, but we need to be tempered and strengthened to accomplish it.

We all fail at some point; the response is to re-submit our lives to Jesus Christ and STAY OFF the shelf! We are each wonderfully gifted by God to reach out in love to people around us who have never experienced passionate intimacy with Jesus.

Charles Stanley's website is called In Touch Ministries. Click on title above for more info.
6:47 am.

Bucket List: a work in progress...

Motivated by Jack Nicholson and an amazingly hard year, I started making a bucket list just because I can. These are the things I would like to accomplish before the Rapture:

• learn Mandarin Chinese
• take dance lessons again
• go sea kayaking
• get a mountain bike and use it... alot (begun: Nov.6, 2009)
  
• motorcycle/scooter through every state in the US (Texas)
  
• live in a foreign nation as a missionary
• introduce people to Jesus who never heard the Gospel before
• get advanced degree in science
• invent something
• go on a Paleozoic research expedition
• stay in a monastery
• build an energy efficient home capable of being off the grid
• travel to Platte River Valley in Nebraska to see the spring sandhill crane migration
• kiss someone who kisses me back
• ...?
  

Pebo died

We once had a wonderful dog, Pebo.
We loved him very much and had great memories.
Pebo died; we put him down.
Some said it was the loving thing to do.
He is dead.
We don't play with his ashes.
We move on.

Forgive and Move on

I heard an interesting lecture the other night at a function at the Federal Reserve Building. The speaker was discussing the importance of being grounded during turbulent times, that when when we experience stimuli from outside ourselves, our first reaction is emotional and not rational. The purpose of our emotional reaction is to protect us from physical danger (ie, rattlesnake), but it is quite often inaccurate in perception. In other words fear distorts perception.

The lecture was a financial seminar, and the speaker was discussing the psychology of poor investment decisions. Most decisions made "in the moment" end up being destructive to one's portfolio. It is the investor who is aware of the fundamentals, the actual strengths and weaknesses of the company, that is best equipped to weather the technical chaos of an emotional market. That strategy of intentional goal-tending is what turns "horrible days" of stock crashes into buying opportunities for companies that are well-funded, well-led, and well-positioned for the future. True, you might miss the elusive "pop" that motivates the day-trader, but the point is investing. His advice was 4-fold: 1) know what you can learn; 2) admit you don't know what's going to happen next; 3) prepare yourself for living amidst uncertainties; 4) make choices that are based on integrity and responsibility.

Then the speaker said something about his book, "Moral Intelligence", and the importance of forgiveness in experiencing life as your "ideal self". He said that forgiveness is the ability to let go and move on. Forgiveness is not about accepting someone's behaviors; it's not about going back to the way things were, or pretending there are no consequences...consequences are a type of reality-check.
Forgiveness is just letting go of your own agenda, and moving on in one's own life. It is surrendering the right to hold onto a hope or grudge.
Forgiveness is the freedom to enter life loosened from the shackles of the past.

I look forward to my new life, knowing that I need Jesus to meet all my emotional and relational needs.
Jesus, please be my spouse, and guide me in your paths. (Isaiah 54: 5-6)

China trip 09

(update: click the title for Tyler's blog of the trip)
Tomorrow a team of students and faculty head to China for a cross-cultural experience. The students have set up a blog at http://hchschina.blogspot.com and will post something here if we find time to get online.
We fly out of Newark, NJ, over the icecap to Shanghai.
Then we head to Xi'an.
Later we spend a day in Huangshan.
We spend our last week in Beijing.
Unless of course we get sent to a quarantine camp because some passenger has a fever.
right... Oh well.
Trust God, then step.

Manoah and "his wife"

"As the flame blazed up from the alter toward heaven, the angel of the LORD ascended in the flame. Seeing this, Manoah and his wife fell with their faces to the ground. When the angel of the LORD did not show himself again to Maooah and his wife, Manoah realized that it was the angel of the LORD.
'We are going to die,' he said to his wife. 'We have seen God.'
But his wife answered, 'If the LORD had meant to kill us, he would not have accepted a burnt offering from our hands, nor shown us these things or now told us this.' "

I love this woman! Crisp logic. I wonder why we don't get to know her name... we know Manoah, but he's not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Perhaps that is the way of life. Some things are left to mystery.

Forgive and Remember

I think it is interesting that the Apostle Paul, writer of most of the Christian Canon, preaches forgiveness for enemies, and at the same time warns followers to remember the sins of those who opposed his ministry.
I think it is interesting that the LORD God met Moses face-to-face, intimately, and yet would not let him cross into the Promised Land, because he struck the rock instead of speaking to it.
There is such a thing as "too far". Judas knew that, too late. Jesus did not say, "Good for you; you brought about my sacrificial atonement on the cross by betraying me." No, Jesus said, "Woe to you; it would be better that you were never born."
Forgiving is not forgetting; it is surrendering the reality of that situation to the Lordship of Christ, for His judgment. I would make a horrible judge; I'm tainted. Like old Betty once quoted, "Leave room for the Wrath of God." Surrender wrath to the One who sees clearly.
It removes the stone from my hand, but proclaims, "...be on your guard."
So I will seek to forgive, but I will also remember the words spoken, the actions taken, not as idols to worship, but reminders of what some people are capable of as I press onward.
Jesus warns his disciples, "I'm sending you out as sheep among wolves, so be gentle as doves but wise as serpents." I will learn from my past; I will not be naive. I know there are those who hide in hallowed halls yet harbor shadowed intention. They will be found out, exposed for what they are, for how they have counseled. God is not mocked; a person reaps what they sow.
The heart is deceitful above all other things; deceit is the opposite of truth. Deceit creates its own reality as an unholy idol. It's worshipers end in death, from the inside out, firstly because they believe their own lies.
The truth will always set us free.
That is the power of confession, not to make anything-- but to release captives.
I desire life; I have value.
Please show me who I am.
I desire freedom; I have a ministry ahead of me.
Please show me my next step in obedience.
I need you, Jesus. All else I surrender before You: my sins, my failings, my flaws, my fear... my shallow theology.
Jesus, today is Easter; please raise my heart from the dead... catch me on fire and watch me burn.

Spring '09

It's spring; I can feel life returning from the death of Winter.
It's a new world today.
Yesterday can never return, except in fading memory.
Birds are singing today to find a new mate or re-establish an old territory.
Trees are wafting their pollen.
Flowers adorn the land in an exclamation that God is bigger.
This is the Present, the Now.
It is the Easter season: the challenge of Jerusalem, the betrayal, the death, the waiting, and the resurrection.
Glory be to God, and blessings on those who live for holiness.

Why pray?

So I pray for dear friends and family members who are having scary surgeries, and I'm hearing myself pray, and I'm wondering why I pray.
I mean, God already loves them fully.
Do I hope to persuade God to love them more?
Does He not desire that my beloved friends experience His presence?
Already?
I get the part about how prayer opens me up to God in my life, a way of surrendering my will to my LORD. But there is something weird about asking something of the Creator of the Universe, as if He wouldn't do it unless I prayed for it or something.
I do not mean to be disrespectful; that would be horror to me.
I just confess my spiritual ignorance publicly.

Moving forward...

A new world awaits... "Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit." I let go.
They say it gets better.
No more ripping me; healing.
New ways of life.
New sources of comfort.
The old is gone.

Waiting and Letting Go

I do not know how to do this part of life.
I do not want to hurt.
I do not want to hurt others.
I see friends trying to protect;
defense becomes offense.
I write to confess the incomplete, broken person that I am.
I went through the Valley of the Shadow once before,
deluded in thinking it was best to crawl in a hole and die, silently;
didn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable;
didn't want to make waves-- so I went away.
I cannot be perfect, though I expect it.
I despise my weakness.
I have to back off; this raw Blogging is not working for me.
If you want to know how I am,
Invite me to your home,
to visit face to face.
I am.

Saying goodbye

Saying goodbye, in Christian circles, is a temporary thing in the grander scheme of things.
With the passing of a grandparent or the tragic death of a friend, the Christian says "goodbye" and experiences the pain of being away, yet there is a subtle hope that leans toward "one day" we will meet again.
The death of a marriage must be the same.
K: follow God.
I'm sorry; I wish I had not been depressed when you were so lonely.
I asked you not to go to Austin, not to go to Burning Man, not to contact BB any more-- twice.
I wish the counselor was as courageous with us as our tribe was.
5 months is a long time to endure the betrayal and deceit of an affair.
I can no longer protect you. You have your own friends now.
I give you to God.
God is bigger; God is better.
Thank you for your word: "hope".
Shared mutually.
ttfn.
Goodbye.

How weird is that?

So this is how weird I am:
I am afraid that if I tell you that I am hurting or in need or something, then you will not want to be around me, because my role is to help you.
How weird is that.
It's like I'm afraid of being human or something.
I cannot be incomplete.
I cannot be messy.
I cannot have moods, or leave stuff out, not if I want to be loved.
How weird is that!
Crazy.
Welcome to my world.

Power Struggles and Control

What is the difference between "heal-grabber" and "grapples-with-God"?
Reading the OYB recently, the story of Jacob stirs curiosities within me.
Why would God choose this manipulative punk, this momma's-boy?
Why would God spare this deceiver?
and why would God wrestle instead of smite? Smite me?
Why doesn't God just smite me?
Why does God allow me to wrestle, vying for control in this power struggle called life?
Why doesn't He just pin me?
And why does he have to do the Ninja-Hip-thing and leave me crippled in what otherwise might be my scariest confrontation, like coming face-to-face with Esau... my history?
And what fear drives this power struggle?
Why can't I just surrender-- is it because I really don't trust God?
Really trust him?
Or maybe I'm supposed to stand at the river and fight Him?
What fool fights God? Right? No?
But Jacob fights God and gets blessed. Of course he's crippled for the rest of his life; there's that...
Very confusing.