I was on the phone today with a customer down in New Mexico. We got to talking about the weather, and how bizarre all of this rain is. He said this:

“It’s global warming, unless you are conservative, then it’s just ignored.”

Obviously, this kind of bothered me. Why is it that if you hold on to conservative ideals, it’s automatically assumed that you don’t care about the environment? I know it’s a tricky subject because there is so much different data available that supports all sides of the debate. Either way, I think it’s a stigma that should be destroyed, in my opinion. Thinking long term about our surroundings, preserving our resources and making life be long sustaining all seem like conservative ideals in my mind.

I know, in my generation it’s almost taboo to be conservative in your world view. I have many friends that are on the liberal side of things, and I don’t get butt-hurt about that at all. I just personally feel that, economically speaking, our country needs to hold ourselves more accountable to get ourselves out of this endless cycle of debt and over-spending. Conservatives, to me, fit into that plan better.

Well, in case you hadn’t heard, I am going to be joining some of my close friends in planting a church this coming September. It is going to be called Lifesong Worship Center. We had our first planning meeting last night at the Ingram’s house. All in all, there was no talk of specifics like music, leadership or structure. It was all about people. Lifesong is going to be an outward focused church aiming at serving everyone we possibly can. I am really encouraged by this, and excited to see a difference happen in our surroundings.

What I took from the meeting was that I need to start aligning my current actions with who I want to be in the long run. It seems like, too often, we think things are just going to automatically happen. I am ready to practice discipline and lose it all to gain something much more important. Strangely enough, I did not feel emotional at all during the meeting. I just feel ready to practice swift obedience.

If you are inclined, please pray for the new project, and that God would see His will completed through it.

Cantatrice

Misunderstanding. Misunderstanding, misunderstanding.
Are we stationed here among another thing?
Sometimes I wonder.
After the lightning, this afternoon, came thunder:
the natural world makes sense: cats hate water
and love fish.

Fish, plankton, bats’ radar, the sense of fish
who glide up the coast of South America
and head for Gibraltar.
How do they know it’s there? We call this instinct
by which we dream we know what instinct is,
like misunderstanding.

I was soft on a green girl once and we smiled across
and married, childed. Never did we truly take in
one burning wing.
Henry flounders. What is the name of that fish?
So better organized than we are oh.
Sing to me that name, enchanter, sing!

Source

Published by Thomas Nelson Publishers, The American Patriot’s Bible (henceforth Patriot’s Bible) consists of hundreds of commentaries on various patriotic themes, ranging in length from one sentence to four pages, inserted at various points throughout the New King James Version of the Bible. Every special interest Bible imposes a certain agenda that to some degree colors the Word, but the Patriot’s Bible takes this “coloring” to a whole new level. There’s not a single commentary in this Bible that even attempts to shed light on what the biblical text actually means. To the contrary, the text of the Bible is used merely as an excuse to further the patriotic agenda of the commentators.

There are a multitude of problematic aspects to the Patriot’s Bible, including the remarkable way it excludes from consideration almost every aspect of American history that could blemish the image of America or its heroes. For example, on the basis of Zechariah’s prophecy that the Messiah would “speak peace to the nations” (Zech. 9:10) we are given a full page eulogy of Christopher Columbus that celebrates how God had destined this “devout Catholic” to bring the good news of salvation to an unreached people group. Absent from the commentary is any discussion of how he and his fellow pioneers deceived, maimed, raped and murdered a large number of these unreached people.

*read the full article on the link above.

the slow motion sneeze:

There was a certain peace that was resting on the room as John sat at the edge of the bed. The morning light was shining through the window, on to his chest as he thought about his life. He reached to his night stand and grabbed his pack of Camel 100s. As he sparked the paper mache, the smoke billowed out into the morning’s illumination. With each exhale, John coughed and struggled with the foreign substance in his lungs. The knuckles of his bones cracked and popped as he arose. His shuffling feet made their way to the bathroom where he readied himself for another day. The rest of his Tuesday was spent doing chores and watching television.

This is the story of John’s life. Every day that passed was no different than the previous. His skin grew more and more callous as he aged. Cracks and blisters painted his body ungracefully and he knew his life had become painfully long.

One day, as John stood in the lawn, holding a hose that was spraying water over each blade of grass, a child passed by on his bike. The boy couldn’t have been older than 7. He locked up the brakes on his Huffy and laid it down in the grass. For a moment, there was silence as the old man and the young boy stared at each other from each corner of the lawn. Piercing the silence, the boy asked “Why are you doing that?”

John Replied “The grass is thirsty, so I am giving it water”

The boy responded “Why?”
“It’s thirsty because it needs water just like us”

“Why?”

“Because that’s just how it is.”

“Why?”

John was rapidly growing annoyed. So he chose to simply remain silent. The boy looked fearless. His brown eyes were unwavering against the frail old man. “Who is your favorite baseball player?” shouted the boy. “There will be no greater player than Babe Ruth” said John boldly. Shaking his head, the boy rebutted “Manny Ramirez could kick Babe Ruth’s ass.” Smirking, John replied “Manny Ramirez does drugs, and you should watch your language.” As the afternoon progressed, the two continued to talk about baseball, video games and life in general. The laughed and cheered at each progressing discussion and felt like they had been buddies all along.

John had never experienced such a rush of emotion. He felt as if there was a new chance at interaction. That evening, he sat in his recliner with a grin on his face the size of a saucer. “Friends come in the most peculiar sizes and forms.” he thought to himself.

(to be continued…)

I heard a sermon a few weeks back on the subject of suffering and lament. I figured I’d pass it on, and re-type some general thoughts into my own words.

As we know, the psalms are kind of the basis for a lot of the “praise and worship” we do corporately every week. Well check out Psalm 88.

Pretty wrenched stuff, huh?  It seems like throughout the Psalms and the rest of the Bible, the writers embrace the idea of lament. It’s part of life. Suffering happens. Yet we serve a God that decided to reach down into that suffering and touch us, thus bringing it upon himself.

There is this theme throughout the Bible that equates the world’s current state with birth. How creation is bellowing out in pain for the birth of something new. I really think this is a beautiful picture. If you ask any mother what the birthing process was like she will tell you it was the most pain she has ever experienced. If you follow up that question with asking what she felt when she first met eyes with her newborn, she will most likely say it was one of the most beautiful moments of her life.

I know this seems like a cluster of a post, but all I am saying is this: God willingly engages with us despite our imperfect world where horrible things happen. Furthermore, through all of that pain and lament we will eventually reach victory and life.

This is why Mark and I don’t have friends

But it still moves me:

I read Mel’s entry today on her blog and had to repost it because it really got me thinking:

We had a guest speaker at church yesterday. He asked us to turn to Luke 10, read the story of the woman with the issue of blood who was healed by touching the very bottom of Christ’s robe. I got stuck in that story and completely missed everything else that was said.

If I was that woman, His robe would have remained untouched. I wouldn’t have pushed to get nearer. I would have made very self-depreciating excuses, and probably would have stayed home.

“I don’t want to bother Him.”
“He’s too busy going somewhere- I’d just get in the way.”
“There are thousands of other people here, why should I push through them and their needs to fix my own?”
“If He really wanted to heal me, He could come find His way over here.”
“What if people get mad at me?”
“I’ve lived with it this long, maybe I should wait for a more opportune time.”
“Maybe there’s something that I’m supposed to learn while I die an isolated death.”
“Who am I to say what I need?”

Come boldly before the throne of grace? I know I’ve done that before. Violently. Passionately. Heaven and earth have shook with the force of my prayers.

And somehow today, right now, I’m dull. Dark, cloudy. Slightly pissed off. Disappointed. My prayers for myself are whispers made at the very end of a day full of yelling.

I stand in a dark alley, look over the busy crowds and bleed.

It’s not that I don’t believe He can bring something out of absolutely nothing for my benefit. It’s not that I don’t know what I want. I just feel… bothersome. A child who has asked too much, and is now just absolutely bothersome. Out of all the things in the world, I hate being an pest most of all. So I’ve withdrawn and stopped asking.

That just doesn’t seem like the place I need to be. Not now or ever.

Jesus, help me.

Jesus, help me.