beauty from pain

why? why is my heart allowed to walk in paths that will only bring hurt? why do my eyes see nothing but futility when there should be love? why do my thoughts flirt with dangerous emotions when all else pulls me away? why am i allowed to walk to the edge and stand at brink of two worlds? why do i feel like i'm falling in between the cracks?

why does it feel so right and yet so wrong? and why can't i make the hard choice? every minute i waver will lead to more brokenness in the end. so why do i sit here and stare into the distance, as if the answer will come over the horizon?

but no. after all this has passed, i still will remain. and after my heart has cried its last, there will be beauty from pain. so God help me, i will look for the dawn.

a full life

people seem to think that a Christian life means limitations, rules, and regulations. that a Christian is inhibited from "living to the fullest." but what is a full life? is it in the so-called "freedom" and carpe diem mentality this world advocates? is it in the existentialist mindset, that you make your own meaning? great goals to be sure, but the thing about this world is that most people simply desire the finite, the things that will come to pass. money, sex, drugs, and power can be just a few of the desired things. but in reality, why do we want these things? we want them because we believe they will make us happy. to have these things for their own sake is nothing; the control, happiness, security, or power we attain from them is everything.

so, when we look at these desires in this light, what can we say but that our desires have been shallow from the beginning? all we seem to want is control of our own lives, and control of our own happiness. and yet we can't help but get this nagging feeling that there is more than this, that we aren't really in control, that the goals stated above are unattainable. so what does God say in response to this? that yes, there is more. yes, there is hope. yes, there is joy and peace for those willing to set their eyes on higher things. we desire happiness and control, but God offers infinite joy and a secure life to us as Children of God, inheritors of the universe.

so maybe i'm mistaken, but i'm going to dare to dream. to look beyond my own security and happiness and see that there is a hope and a life that is full to the brim. the Christian life is not a life of limited desires and timidity, but a life of overflowing passion and bold joy.

nothing to give

you look at me like you want something. like i have something to offer you. but really, do i? look at our lives. do you really think this would work out? look at your life; there are places you go that i cannot and will not go. and i'm not talking about the small things; i've already glossed over those. but the fact that your pleasures and values are so different from mine cannot be erased. and look at my life. there are places i go that you will not. and more than that, my heart is not my own. yes, its been taken already by Him.

i would give you what i could; i care enough about you to want your happiness. but what? we've already talked about the heart. what else? i would give you my eyes and my ears, but they are His too. i would give you my lips, but they are bound to His work. i would give you my body, but it is His temple. and so what is left? only His agape Love. and that is unbounding and endless. but i'm not sure that's what you want.

so here we stand. perhaps you consider me stiff-necked and stubborn. but remember, my life is not my own, to do with as i please. it belongs to something greater. and unless something changes, our paths will forever be parallel, friends to the end, never more.

so Friend, know that i care about you very much and am invested in you. but i cannot give you my heart.

deceived

many people say they want freedom. they search for liberty, and joy in the simple living process. and that is a great goal. but too often, i don't see it happen. where is that freedom that you claim to value so highly? all i see is your life, half in and half out of a rut. you claim you want to be free, and yet you continue living the same old life. you say you want to live like you've never lived before, and yet your mind is still filled with the petty worries of yesterday. you want to live with no boundaries, and all i see is one leg over the fence.

perhaps we have all been deceived.

characters

whenever i watch a movie or read a book, i always judge the quality of the story on the characters. the plot is given some consideration, but ultimately, the characters make or break the story. it doesn't do much for me to read a wonderful plot if i am not invested in the people. i think this focus on characters comes from my mom; interestingly, she is most interested in mystery novels, largely due to her fascination with the psyche and the motives behind the personality. it makes her extremely good at reading people accurately, but that is besides the point.

more important are the reasons for this preference. i think this preference is largely due to an understanding that the people are much more important than the story. because in the end, you don't control your own story. there are no deux ex machinas (and if there are they come at the wrong times). you control your actions in the story. your motives, decisions, and goals are your own. you may not like the setting or the plot twists, but you are your own person.

for that, i salute you, and urge you, live a tale worthy of the telling, no matter what your setting, plot, or time.

Songbearer

a sprite speeds through the stirring forest as if he were not running, but flying. the river dances along his side, burbling a song of rushing voices and sweeping passion. the trees rise to greet the fleeting sprite, a blur among their dancing shadows. and the wind whispers, welcome Songbearer.

the sprite leaps high, as if he hears the greeting in the wind's voices. and he moves faster now, weaving among the trees, caressing their trunks, and leaping from branch to branch as he moves further into the forest. hello friends, the sprite seems to say. the trees are whispering now too, with the throaty voices of the earth and wood. well met, Songbearer.

and the sprite slows now, for he is at the center of the forest. before him stands an ancient oak tree of majestic size and strength. its branches are proud, and it holds itself tall. But the oak tree's leaves are fallen, though it is the height of summer, and its branches are weak. a lightning scar marks the oak's bark. saddened, the sprite steps forward to greet this king of the forest.

the sprite bows first, kneeling, and remains bent as the wind carries the news of his arrival through the branches of the old oak. and the ancient presence awakens. Songbearer. i am ready.

it shall be my honor, Ancient One.

the sprite rises and begins to dance widdershins. first slowly, then ever faster. until suddenly, the sprite's feet leave the ground, and the sprite is flying around the oak. and he begins to sing.

the song is full of the wonders of life and the mystery of living. the sprite sings of the rushing waters in their constant movement and flight. he sings of the eagle flying high above the clouds. he sings of the fish in the streams, chattering with each other, the water, and the frogs. he sings of the wolves and their mournful cries in the night. he sings of the trees and their songs of growth and strength. he sings of the rabbit's death cry and the chirping of baby birds. he sings of the badger's steadfastness and the fox's mercurial temperament. he sings of joy and sorrow, of peace and torment, of creation and destruction, of life and death.

and as he sings of Creation, the sprite dances ever closer to the oak's branches. and suddenly, a leaf is to be seen on one of the oak's gnarly branches. the smallest of leafs, but a verdant and green one all the same. and as the sprite begins to dance among the branches themselves, leaves begin to grow where the sprite has touched the oak.

and the life begins to spread from the leaves to the branches to the trunk. as the sprite climbs higher and higher, the oak regains its color and strength. the bark is once again the rich brown of the earth, and the branches stand strong and mighty. the leaves are plentiful and new, and the roots run deep once more.

and the oak begins to join the sprite in song. with a deep vibrato, the oak interweaves his harmony into the sprite's soaring Song. and suddenly, the oak is more real, more alive than any other tree in the forest. the leaves are no longer just green but a penetrating green of shimmering emerald. the bark is no longer just brown but the essence of earthiness. the oak is no longer just an oak; it shines with an internal light of great brightness and strength. and the other trees seem immaterial in the presence of the great oak.

and the Song becomes tangible, like ribbons of pale white light shimmering over the oak. even the sun dims in the presence of this Glory, until all is night except these streams of light. suddenly, the ribbons race outward, into the forest, outshining all else in its path. and the ribbons whirl through the forest with dizzying speed and power until the forest itself is a web of light with the great oak at its center, pulsating with joy and overwhelming power.

and now the whole forest sings with the sprite, the river with its thunderous chorus, the trees with their deep vibratos, the wind with its fiery harmony, and the oak with its counterpoint. and the song rises toward the heavens, and cries out with all the joy it hath.

and too soon, the song comes to an end. the ribbons of light fade to nothing, as the sun returns to its normal routine in the sky. the forest returns to its quiet whispers and chatter, reminiscing of the joy of the Song. and the oak, the great oak, returns to itself. though no longer shining like the sun, the oak is no longer dying. with its king restored, the forest has been set aright.

and of the Songbearer? he is gone without a word or a goodbye. but i'm sure he is off somewhere else where he is needed.

old

at what age does someone become old? i find that my definition of 'old' is anyone above my parents' age level. which is interesting. because it seems as if, by setting 'old' above my parents, i make my parents ageless. or perhaps more accurately, i'm afraid to see them grow old, to see change. can you imagine the day that your parents are 'old' to your eyes? the day that you realize, yes, your parents, possibly the one constant throughout your entire life, will one day leave this earth?

which begs a deeper question: what is old? when does something move from the new to the established to the old? the answer is deeper than any time length or superficial judgment. to be old, in all honesty, implies irrelevance. when a mouth casually says, 'oh that's old', the heart actually says, 'oh that's obsolete' or 'useless' or 'unnecessary'. which is why being 'old' implies such negative things to our minds. to be old is to be irrelevant and passé, which we humans with our egos hate.

so in the end, perhaps the answer is right before us. oldness has nothing to do with age or time or the freshness of the air but the relevance and the heart of a person. the body may be old and irrelevant to the young eyes of today, but the heart may still be vibrant and young. the face may wrinkle with the troubles of yesteryear, but the smile may still be brighter than the birth of a star. and the hands may be cracked and worn, but the eyes may gleam with the joy of an eagle in flight.

so with that, my friends, may you never grow old, and may your lifesong sing of the joy and the sorrow and the grandeur all the days of your life.

judgment

step in someone else’s shoes. we hear that a lot, an analogy for understanding another person. especially when the person’s actions are despicable to your eyes and demand explanation. and it makes sense; try to see their perspective, and you will judge them less for what they do and how they act. but you could understand and still judge. because inherent in our analysis is the strong idea of personal right. ‘oh i see why they do this i’m glad i don’t act that way’ or ‘i’m glad i’m not as messed up as they are’ or some variant. and through these analyses we forget that we are often just as messed up or worse off because we fail to see our own wrong. the very act of Judgment indicates that you consider yourself wise enough to make a valuation of that person’s worth. is that true? or, is it possible that we have all set ourselves up to be gods?