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| "Shoot a dream in your arm""Every crash pulls you in reach
of a watershed of signal flares that cover your beach.
These are just placebos to make us feel all right
Illusions in our pockets make our feather float us high
For a second I thought I saw you eyelids rise
A moment, something restless caught you by surprise"
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Listening to the wind rustling through the trees tonight reminds me of so many strange times long ago... like a journey into the distant past.
I can smell the lake-water, and hear it gently lapping at my feet as I sit at its banks beneath the light of the pale moon.
I can listen to the trees thundering and roaring as they fall to the ground -- a perfect night disturbed by nothing more than an ancient herald meeting his end.
I can see the sea-lions playing in icy waters off of the shore, and feel the great gusts tossing me back to the ground as I spread my arms before the fading sun.
I can taste the ice in my mouth as I trudge past smalls ponds, row upon row of houses, and a plethora of people from all walks of life.
I can fall to my face in the early morning of autumn and watch the trees being blown to the ground and covering me in a blanket of seasons.
The wind sounds beautiful tonight.
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Is he a man, or more than that
-- a monstrous opinion of a freak
-- something that trudges beneath the moon
and who answers to know name.
"Wretch, devil, spawn of Satan!"
And does he fear? Yes.
With the build of a beast,
the frame of a goliath,
but the heart of a child. So pure.
"Lies! All Lies! Kill him! Kill him!
...and they do.
His head swings from a pike,
his arms are cast beside the road,
his body mutilated and burned
and his eyes gouged out.
A mess... an example of human disgrace.
The crowd would call for his destruction,
the crowd would yearn for his defeat
and scream "kill the beast" -- the poor hurt fowl,
like a wounded animal in the trap.
But when they killed the monster his wrinkles faded.
The sharp fangs and hideous face became soft,
gentle pieces of a young man in the blossom of life.
The monster was but a man...
And they ran from their fear,
left the deceased to rot beneath the sun and moon.
The beauty became a mockery to their lack of understanding,
and to their hatred, a scourge of fire.
Whilst the body lay upon the dirt,
and the head was fixed between heaven and earth,
the heart was gently clasped between the hands
of a boy who uttered not a word.
As the men ran, as the women dispersed,
the child sat upon the road holding the creature's heart.
When the lights went down and the fire began to die,
but a wail went up from the child...
"we have killed God himself"
...and it was finished. | | |
| Be the manI heard a story today that goes back 96 years, to the night the RMS Titanic sank. Many people remember the disaster it was, but few people ever hear the story of the courage and chivalry that took place on that night.
Records indicate that for the proportionate number of men to women, 1 woman died for every 10 men that lost their lives that night. But why?
Apparently, in the few hours before the ship sank below the surface, the men on board the ship decided that no men would be given places in the lifeboats, except for a small few who would row them. The only individuals allowed to leave the ship aboard the lifeboats were women and children.
It was also decided that any boy over the age of 13 was not considered a child, and must yield his place for a woman or younger child. Of the 60 16 year old cabin boys on the Titanic, not one of them survived. Even one of the wealthiest men in England, a businessman who controlled tens of millions of dollars, yielded a seat he could've expected, to what was probably a 3rd class washerwoman... and his body was found frozen to death in the Atlantic waters.
Why? Why would boys give up spots for their female counterparts? Why would one of the world's wealthiest men die to save a poor woman who probably had very little material wealth?
It was all out of a belief in the dignity of chivalry and manhood. Men, acting like men, being men, and taking the place of leaders. Part of being a leader means being willing to stay behind till the end. Part of being a leader means that when your troops are surrounded, you'll be there with them to fight to the death.
Men today have little or no respect for this concept of manliness. Riding on subways, buses, or trains, it's more common to see a teenager ignore an older adult or senior standing because of a lack of seats, than it is to see him rise and give way simply out of respect.
During 9/11, as the buildings were pouring forth smoke and fire, many of the wealthy businessmen of the day, after helping their secretaries, associates, and employees escape the building, went back into the towers to help bring others out. Ordinary people, ordinary citizens, ordinary human beings, who understood the extraordinary calling to be the man.
I think that responsibility and that respect for women and children, those men are obligated to protect, comes from a sense of love and value -- for the life that is created and sustained. As a man, I know that, if I were ever in a position of giving up my life, or the possibility of living, for another human being, it would be unthinkable for me to deny that individual the right to live... not because it would be something I was expected to do by my piers (our world expects so little now), but because it would be what was required of me as a human being.
Would a father knowingly sacrifice his wife and children so he himself could live? I should certainly hope not. Nothing is of a greater consequence or importance than the willingness for men to be men and require of themselves what men and boys have required of themselves for hundreds of years.
For the "quality of mercy is not strain'd. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven, and it blesses him that gives, and him that takes."
As men, when we give mercy, when we give the ability to live, when we love we deny ourselves and acknowledge our manliness.
Hundreds of 13 year old boys died on one night in the frigid Atlantic so that women and girls could be saved. They died as men, and they show us what we must represent and fight for -- the right to be the man. | | |
| We have so little time......here on this earth. It seems like only yesterday I was trudging around in kindergarten, learning about reptiles and mammals... and today I'm trying to understand pragmatism versus philosophical relevance in society. The difference between reptiles and mammals made about as little sense.
"They're all animals mom. That's all that matters."
But what does matter to me are the things that matter... in a very sensible kind of way. There are a few things I've decided have to be done... in no particular order but...
1) Get married. *This is probably at the top of the list.*
2) Have children. *If there's something I love in life, probably more than anything (if I were married, my wife would slap me) it's children. I love playing with kids, teaching them all about the world around us, and just being there to see their perspectives on life. I always feel less stressed, more peaceful, and in so many ways, blessed, by children.*
3) Travel to Europe. *Italy, Ireland, England, Germany, Greece, Spain, France... I've always wanted to travel to Europe.*
4) Bring someone into a relationship with Jesus Christ. *This probably speaks for itself. I can think of few things that would be a better use of my time than to invest in an individual and bring them into an understanding of the truth of God, and the wonder of his salvation.*
5) Get a real job. *Yes yes... the boring Ho-hum? Or not? I can't wait to do real work and make a real difference. Probably boring, but I want a job as an adult.*
6) Force my kids to do speech and debate. *I shall take great pleasure in this one. ;)*
7) Spend a month living with the homeless. *I remember hearing someone suggest sometime in the distant past that it would be so eye-opening to live in another place with another people group. I always thought it'd be a worthwhile pursuit to spend a month...or two...living on the streets of some big city, with no money, no job, and just learning what life is like for people who live on the "other side of the tracks" so to speak.*
8) Speak to the thousands. *I had a vision once, where I saw myself on a platform before thousands upon thousands of people. I don't remember what I was speaking about, but I remember the sensation of calling out and the rush of hearing the response of the crowd. I'm curious to see what form this might take in the future.*
9) Be the coolest father and grandfather ever. *That means staying active, staying energetic, and always being willing to keep up what's going on... what's new and exciting. :) I don't want to get old and grouchy. ;)*
10) Wake up each morning to realize that no matter what I do, or am, or say, or think, I could never be worthy to be here... that I could never be worthy to be loved, to be cared for, to be protected, or to be alive. If I can go throughout life, waking up every morning feeling that, I think it will make this life a bountiful harvest forever.
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With the waning moon,
with the passing of the stars,
with the coming of day,
and the beginning of night,
we see and hear, always, of the beauty
Beauty that creeps beneath the door
beauty that whispers on the rushing wind
beauty that hides its face in the falling leaves
but always awakens herself
to the calling of her beloved
What if he called to her
what if she heard not his voice
what if no reply came to his ears
for "silence is the perfectst herald of joy"
and silent they would be
Forever and a day we would hear them
forever their hands would be clasped as one
forever the sun would shine upon their path
as it wandered through the shadow
but they would have eyes only for each other
So let the earth tremble and quake
So bring the mighty fortresses to their knees
So hear the song of those who love, still sung
by the quiet brook on the covered hills
for their song gently drifts into eternity. | | |
| Why do we complicate things so?Today Thomas and I sat on my bed and just talked for 30 minutes...about? Robots...trains...legos...bats...alligators...and no dating till he's 30. ;)
Quite honestly... could life get any simpler?
We make life difficult -- for ourselves and others -- when we refuse to simply live life. We let our pride, selfish ambitions, desire for revenge, resentment, hatred, jealousy and bitterness cloud out what we really need... simplicity and innocence.
I've come to realize that I don't care so much anymore about associating with people who graduated from Harvard or have a degree in molecular-biology. I just want to be able to be with people who treat me with honesty and genuinely care about being my friends. No fancy ribbons, no beautiful medals, no printed certificates... just people, simple people.
I like giving people a hard time for not being "observant" and missing the small details, but maybe I was the one who was wrong. Maybe the details are what make it so hard for us to be human and to genuinely love one another. In my zeal for perfection and accuracy I think I have probably missed so much of the innocence in life.
Like the reverend from Pollyanna said "I looked for the bad in you, when what I really should've been looking for was the blessing in your good."
Maybe it means I'll be rejected by the "thinkers", but let that be so. I would rather be able to care and love without a painted picture of reality than hide behind a mask of intellectualism.
Thomas and I will continue talking about dinosaurs, trains and sandbox castles. Let the rest of the world have their Einsteins and Newtons. | | |
| Adventure seeking by nightI remember reading horror stories as a freshman in highschool. It feels like so long ago now...
The most terrifying was the short story by Edgar Allen Poe: The Tell-Tale Heart.
"I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture -- a pale blue eye with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me my blood ran cold, and so by degrees, very gradually, I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye for ever."
I've often heard it said before that the individual cannot truly express grief, joy, fear, anger, greed, or maliciousness unless the author of the expressions has himself experienced the emotion he attempts to convey.
The first time I saw the movie The Passion I didn't cry during the graphic scenes of torture, the beatings, or even Christ's death upon the cross... but when I saw Mary weeping as she ran to Jesus to pick him up as he fell beneath his load I couldn't stop the tears. They were the same tears I'd seen in my mother's eyes a hundred times when she wanted me to feel better, or wanted me to do away with the unnecessary anger or pride. Seeing that made (and still makes me) sob uncontrollably. It's an emotion I can relate to.
The most powerful relation between emotions read, seen, or otherwise described, comes when we can identify with those emotions.
A number of years back a very close family friend who had taken on the role of an uncle for me, passed away. His premature death was the product of a reckless lifestyle that ignored consequence... and ever since then, to see someone throwing their life away with no regard for their own well being or for the well being of those around them... simply hurts my heart.
I experience these emotions. Though I am not the one suffering, I am the one suffering. It's a bond that probably goes beyond anything we could ever understand.
Nietzsche called it the product of weakness, saying that the ability to relate to others and actually care was simply an expression of an individual's lack of will to dominate... making that individual worthless as a human being. I'd respectfully disagree.
What makes us human isn't our ability to destroy life. It's our ability to see and cherish the blessings, to see and mourn the losses, to see and rejoice in the discovery of what was lost.
Keith Green once gave an altar call that pretty much sums up how we are called to live in such a way.
"You know I really can't explain to you how or why he does it. But he proved himself to me in such a holy way -- such a complete way -- that I'd die for that faith, and I'd die for that belief, because it's more than a belief. He lives in my heart, and that's the only proof that I can give you. Those people that knew me before didn't know that I could believe something so strong. The gospel is simply this: Jesus will forgive all your sins if you'll come to him humbly, lay down at his feet and say 'you're the Lord, and I'll follow you the rest of my life on earth so that I can have the rest of eternity with you and the glory of your father.'"
That proof and that spirit within me is what makes me rejoice, despair, and embrace the world with a love and comfort that I could never give. It helps me realize that there's more to life than the drama, or the successes and failures. There's something so great, so high, and so mighty that I can never be worthy of participating in it, but I can share that care and that love with those around me.
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Some say that the age of chivalry is past, that the spirit of
romance is dead. The age of chivalry is never past, so long
as there is a wrong left unredressed on earth. -Charles Kingsley
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