The Least of These

I avoid You in the hallway,

And I'm sorry.

I ignore You in the lunch room,

And I'm sorry.

I walk by You on my way to class,

And I'm sorry.

I pray for myself and my friends instead of You.

I am sorry.

I'm a sorry excuse for a Christian,

And You Love me.

I'm the ugly side of the Church,

And You Love me.

I profane Your Name with my apathy,

And You Love me.

I have to repent more than once.

You still Love me.

Your Love is boundless and infinite,

Yet I judge.

You came and died for all of us,

Yet I judge.

You healed the sick and the weak,

Who I judge.

You are my only source of redemption,

Yet I judge.

I judge them for my own sins,

Then I preach You.

I give in to temptation,

Then I preach You.

I allow circumstances to control me,

Then I preach You.

I do what I don't want to do and don't do what I ought to do,

Then I preach You.

I will continue to preach You with my life,

To the least of these.

It won't ever be a full picture, but I'll paint it anyways,

For the least of these.

I will weep for, and work for, and sob for, and serve

The least of these.

Because You Love each of them as much as You Love me and some of them don't know it yet but You want to bring healing

To the least of these.

Stopping By

I've been caught up in Your work and my ways.

Listlessly I've been lingering through these days.

But lazy and lawless isn't the life You have for me to live.

Show me my all since it's all I have to give.

Show me Your all since it's the only way I can live.

You know I'm sorry for my fighting fear and faithlessness

And I know You are Faithful with Your Forgiveness.

But I can't forget the times I failed to follow through

And each of those times felt more like I was failing You.

Take what is broken and make it new.

Joy and Love and Fluffy Stuff

The thorns and the weeds have had their day.

They've molded and shaped this plant that now grows away.

While their absence may be brief and incomplete,

These days will see the plant finding it's feet.

No longer bound by weight and pain,

Flowers and leaves emerge again.

A simple tune rings pure and true;

A melody of old becoming new.

Most the world has missed the turn,

But behind the dreary overcast, the sun still burns.

Amidst the grasp of frost and death and doom

There is growing now a passionate bloom.

It grows with a legendary zeal.

Winter scars and disfigurations heal

With a mind rooted in the lessons gone by

And an ambitious heart for the hope of the sky.

It rises, not alone, but among strengthened neighbors,

A garden of communal prosperity and favor.

And as it rises it searches for another,

Not follower or friend or guide, but lover.

But this search cannot impede the swell,

It must remain by Grace impelled.

For while pursuit remains noble enough,

It was not pursuit that brought them out of the dust.

Enthusiasm and passion pour out from within

The blaze of destruction outside now matched by the Joy in it's skin.

To it's ears the silence of the grave sounds singing,

It is now, for the time, being.

**Photo adapted from Gungor's "Beautiful Things" album cover.

Dust

I'm out of it in this trough

when are You gonna show up and save the day?

when are You gonna show up and take me away?

when are You gonna condemn me for what I say?

how long do I have to not feel this way?

Show up! would You?

Cuz I can't tell You how much I miss Your presence.

And I hate when I hate when I need to love

and I want to say it's because I can't feel You

but You tell me that it's something inside of me

and i can't take it when You say that

because apathy is an old rival who knows me too well.

So now what?

I toss another pebble out into the lake and watch the ripples come racing back to us on the shore. You sit there breathing in the silence, listening. I tell you I feel like I'm stuck in the ditch, spinning out before it even gets to the axel. You tell me it's spelled axle.

"What do we do when we're stuck in a rut?"

"I don't know, I was hoping You would tell me."

"We get out and walk. We go back to basics. The fancy stuff isn't working anymore, so we take a step back and carry on. I know you've got this walking thing down, but there's a reason for that. C'mon, let's go."

We climb out and start walking, and a tear runs down my cheek again.

Bread of Life

I'm so stoked to get to heaven and not be hungry or thirsty again. Seriously, think about that. Never having to sit there wondering if you want another Oreo or if you'd rather have chips or if you're actually thirsty and you just can't tell. Being satisfied for all of all time; what an insane idea! But here's what Jesus assures us:

"I am the bread of life," Jesus told them. "No one who comes to Me will ever be hungry, and no one who believes in Me will ever be thirsty again. But as I told you, you've seen Me, and yet you do not believe." John 6:35-36 HCSB

and:

Jesus answered, "If you knew the gift of God, and who is saying to you, 'Give Me a drink,' you would ask Him, and He would give you living water."

"Sir," said the woman, "You don't even have a bucket, and the well is deep. So where do You get this 'living water'? You aren't greater than our father Jacob, are You? He gave us this well and drank from it himself, as did his sons and livestock."

Jesus said, "Everyone who drinks from this water will get thirsty again. But whoever drinks from the water that I will give him will never get thirsty again -- ever! In fact, the water I will give him will become a well of water springing up within him for eternal life." John 4:10-14 HCSB

Seriously, it's gonna be awesome. And it will have nothing to do with our stomachs. :)

We Are The Moon

The following poem was born in a rather unique way. On the night leading in to my 20th birthday, I spent my last half hour as a teenager laying under the stars having a brutally honest conversation with God. I told Him that I wanted to start really, truly living for Him this year. I was sorry for the fact that I hadn't yet, and I knew that I couldn't go on without Him completely consuming my life. I wanted this year to be "the one that started it all." And if I wasn't living that way, I didn't want to live. I lay before God vulnerably and honestly asked Him to remove me from this earth if I wasn't living in His will. Seeing that I was still alive in the flesh (or is that dead?) I spoke the following poem starting at 12:01 am on Thursday, September 23, 2010. I knew only the first four words to this poem when I set out; speaking them to my roommate who was laying next to me. As I continued to speak, the Spirit told a story through me. I wrote it down as I remembered it in class later that day and I think I'm ready to share it now.

We Are The Moon

We are the moon.

We are a rock like all the rest, nothing special.

We have our craters and blemishes and dark spots.

We have no light of our own.

But we have been separated and given a reflective soul.

We are the moon.

And in the morning the Sun watched over us.

It protected us, guided us.

And then the Sun rose among us.

It spread its light everywhere.

It lit up the sky and the earth.

But its light shone into uncomfortable places,

so we tore it down.

We are the moon.

And the Sun has set and it is our time to shine.

We have become a beacon in the darkness.

We are the moon.

And we are always chasing the Sun.

We will never catch it, bet we keep chasing,

Hoping to put ourselves in position to reflect it fully,

So that when the Sun comes back

We will have helped as many as possible to join us

When we land among the stars.

We are the moon.

And He is the Sun.

Life as I Know It.

I'm past the end of my rope, and past caring

My own will gave out long ago and now there's no hope of sharing.

I can't continue to go on like this.

I know confession will only make things better,

but I'm having trouble speaking out, so here, I'll write this letter.

I hate the way I tell myself my life is gonna change.

And how at the end of every week I see that everything's the same.

I hate the way we tell each other that we won't live this way any more.

I hate the way I yell at You then preach Your truth at core.

I hate the way I see your dirt and judge you and condemn

instead of loving and caring for humanity and offering a helping hand.

I hate the way I listen to your lies about my God.

I hate that every time it happens, you prove yourself a fraud.

I hate that I keep coming back and losing the same war

after I already told myself not to go there anymore.

I hate the way I can't express how much you mean to me.

I hate the way You hold the door closed so I can't see.

I want to break the door down and see what lies ahead.

I want to get up and have a quiet time instead of lying in bed.

I want you to understand how today decides tomorrow.

I want you to see my love for you intsead of all my sorrow.

I want to find the way to live in harmony where I'm at.

I want to show you how He loves and not judge you because of your hat.

I wish I could be filled with wisdom, knowledge and answers.

I wish I knew how to really comfort you about your friend who died from cancer.

I wish we could really talk instead of being all awkward.

I wish I had a better vision or goal for you to walk toward.

I wish You'd come down and fix all of our problems

Or maybe just give me the answers so I can solve them.

I like the way you open up and talk about real things.

I like the way the Spirit shows through you when you sing.

I like the way you chase your other squirrel friends around the tree.

I like the way you text me when there's a good sunset to see.

I love the way you talk about past lives and past brothers.

I love the way you are supportive and encouraging to others.

I love the way You find me here in the pit of my despair

And bring me back to the surface for another breath of air.

I love the way the sun shines brighter when I see you smile

And how my burden gets lighter after we talk for a while.

I love the way you let me see you struggle with your faith.

I love the way you hug me man, and how your laughter fills a place.

I love the way you mentor me and teach me where I'm at.

I love the way you're curious and have whiskers "like a cat!"

I love the look on your face when you listen to what I'm saying.

I love the way you cross yourself when you are praying.

I love the way You work things together for our good

and I love the way You love me when I don't think you should.

This Post Has Two Parts, So Does This Title.

Part 1: A Year in Review

I've been putting off writing this blog post for a while. Not necessarily postponing this content, just this post, chronologically. It is my first post in this new year of 2011. As many of you are aware (indeed, any of you who read the intro stuff at the top of this page), my initial plan for this blog was to contain all of my poetry for one year. That year was 2010. Again, it is now 2011. This has left me with quite the dilemma. I began to write this first blog post before the new year came around, but was unable to finish it. The beginning I had read as follows:

"I was startled to find out this morning that it was the last one of 2010. What strikes me the most about this is that my one-year poem-writing commitment is now up.

Exactly a year ago today I started to dream up this crazy idea of writing poetry every day. I remember wondering what 365 poems would look like. Wondering how many notebooks that would take. Estimating that it would take five and 15 pages of a sixth based on standard notebook size of 70 pages. I wondered what I would be writing about in one year. I wondered what kind of story would be chronicled in my writing. What would there be to learn from this project? What would I have to look back on? When this year was over, who would I be?
I read somewhere that it takes 21 days to make a habit. There are roughly 17 of these 21 day periods in a year. That's 17 new habits. 17 new things that have become so routine that they require less thought. 17 new parts of daily life. If each of these took an hour of the day, that would be 70% of each day devoted to something new. So, you see, a lot can change in a year.
This morning, as I reviewed my writings from the past year, I saw much change and development of thought. I also noticed that I had only 41 of my proposed 365 entries (this post makes 42). 42/365. That is a terrible grade. 11.5%. An absolute failure. This is the grade of the kid in high school who you never knew was in your math class. This is the grade of someone who isn't even trying. It is the approximate grade of the steepest segment of the Cass Scenic Railway. My point is, by my initial standards and expectations, this year was terrible.."

Perhaps it was this realization of abject failure that drove me away from writing this post. Perhaps. But when I again review my 41 posts from the past year, my general assessment is not one of failure. I cannot honestly look through those writings and be even disappointed, let alone feel like a total failure. God clearly had His own plan in mind when He set me out on this journey. Being able to see the growth in my writing, the emotional development of my words, the evolution of my writing style, and the often twisted path that my soul traveled along over the past year is a gift beyond belief. And I do not believe that this gift was intended to stop giving after one year. In light of that belief, I give You... the first post of 2011.

Part 2: Jesus on my neck-uh-liss-iss-izz

Last weekend was XA Winter Camp. It was fantastic. It would be rather taxing for me to try and put in to words the Joy I experienced over these few short days. For all who were there, even the ones that I have still not been graced to meet, I thank you for contributing enormously to my experience with Christ this weekend. It was fantastic and so are you.

A chief concern coming out of a Winter Camp type of experience is how to capture fully the lessons that were learned during that time. I regret to inform you that I cannot do this. The level at which the Spirit moved in me this weekend is one that I do not yet comprehend. I could feel God moving large things around inside me. These things had not been moved in a long time, perhaps ever. They were heavy and dusty. They left an indent behind when they were moved. The floor beneath them shuddered and creaked as they were slid along. I could feel the vibrations. I don't know what these things were/are. I don't know which of those verbs to use; "were" or "are". But I know that this movement, this reordering and redesigning, had profound impacts on my external being. I have prayed with my heart ripped open on the floor before God. I have approached the Throne shouting, sobbing, screaming, and singing.

I have been known.

And a few things have been made known to me, one of which I feel ready to share via this medium. But before I do that, I must apologize for the Ke$ha reference that is the title of this Part 2. I'm also sorry for furthering everyone's confusion on how one pronounces the "$" symbol when it is used in a name. I'm still largely undecided on this key cultural issue, but I'm pretty sure a lot of us are getting it wrong. That said, I believe the Spirit has something more important for me to share (I guess "more important" doesn't really say much in this case, but hey...).

One of the more interesting parts of what I am about to share is how I managed to come about it. Suffice it to say that Facebook can indeed be a tool of ministry and spiritual growth. I know, I didn't believe it at first either. While composing a response in this Facebook exchange on the intricacies of Christian art, I was cornered by the Spirit on the concept of "neutral" actions. These are the things that we think have no influence on our spiritual lives. You know, that thing you like to do when you've got free time. Or that show you watch just for the comedic escapism that it offers. Or that music you listen to because it's "clean." Or those books you read so you can get away from reality and pretend for just a little bit on weekends that you are living the life of someone else; that you aren't really the person who God created you to be. These are some of the actions that Christians often deem as "neutral." Indeed, these things generally are not inherently sinful. One of my major "neutral" actions is videogames. I like to play videogames. I have stayed up to date with the latest Call of Duty, Halo, and Assassin's Creed games for a few years now. I also have a GameBoy Color emulator on my cell phone that I like to play Pokemon Yellow on. I don't believe that playing any of these games is inherently sinful. Maybe you would disagree. Finish reading this post and if you still disagree, let me know, I love discourse :) While I don't view playing games as inherently sinful, I also don't see room for glorifying God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength when I do this. When I look at Jesus' message in the gospels, and Paul's message in the epistles, and the Old Covenant of the Old Testament, I do not see any room for a faith with such "neutral" distractions. Jesus tells us to sell all we have and follow Him. Paul tells us to set our very thoughts on whatever is pure, and noble, and good. The Old Covenant has us lay every part of our lives before Him, and make sacrifices to atone for the parts that are displeasing.

Since camp, I have felt called (and I do not believe it to be a unique or individual calling) to chase after God with the same passion that I have been directing to videogames for years. I want to make Christian living that thing I like to do with my spare time. I want reading scripture to be my pastime. When my mind wanders, I want it to wander about God's character. I want my stray thoughts to be about His face. I want to have to snap myself out of thinking about His desire to love the people around me so that I don't miss that "clearly more important" thing in lecture. Don't misunderstand me. I do not wish to sideline my faith. I am not trying to trivialize Christ and His sacrifice. Rather, I am trying to realize these things. I desire to make them so true to myself that they replace the things that seem to constantly consume me. In the words of one David Crowder, "I'm so bored of little gods / while standing on the edge of something large / while standing here so close to You / we could be consumed." In short, I want Jesus to be my Savior, my Lord, and my hobby.

...and so I'll make myself a sandwich

^Actual sandwich.

A few days ago (as of the time I am writing this, of course, because I cannot know when you are reading this nor the relative timing of your reading to my sandwich making. Are those alfalfa sprouts?) I decided to make a sandwich for lunch. It had been quite some time since I had performed this task. I was rusty.

BREAD. I should preface the meat of this story by letting you know that I am currently (again, at the time I am writing this, well... not at the same time, just generally in this period of my life) reading the book Praise Habit by David Crowder*. If you have not yet read this book, you should, it is delightful. If you have yet read this book, you should again, the second time is at least as delightful. The main message of this book is one of becoming a constant praise to our God. The wording of that last sentence may sound odd, but it is intentional. Crowder* challenges us to turn Praise into our life and to bring the rescue of Jesus with us into everything we do. This is the context in which I decided to make a sandwich.

MAYO. At the outset, I planned a very simple sandwich. But I decided to make my efforts more worthwhile by adding some gravy in the form of lettuce, cheese and mustard. I fully believe that this decision was made based on a larger decision that I made to be more proactive in my life. This proactivity is in the form of me being more purposeful, working harder at life, not being a victim of circumstances, exerting self-control and self-sacrifice, making a better sandwich.

HAM. As I said before, I was rusty at this sandwich-making. I discovered this quickly as I immediately forgot that this process required bread and a knife. This was to be the beginning of a time of mistake-making. The rest of the mistakes are as follows:

-Drop mayo on the table (Eww).

-Fail to find the LARGE lettuce container in the fridge.

-Drop the Kraft American Cheese Single on the table.

-Forget to shake the mustard.

-Proceed to pour mustard-juice all over the bread, paper towel and table.

-Manage to spill pickle juice all over my hand, fridge and floor (Note: this sandwich contained no pickles.)

All of this failed to frustrate me (see MAYO). I found a bit of humor in the situation, actually. I also found an essential truth of life. As I was nearly finished, I was mentally reviewing the mistakes I had made and I came upon the following thought:

"No matter how many times I messed up along the way, no matter how long it takes, I'm still gonna have a sandwich to enjoy when I'm done."

LETTUCE. This sandwich-making escapade had turned into a spiritual growth moment. I realized that this same truth holds true in my attempt at living Praise. The fact is, no matter how many times I mess up along the way, or how long it takes me to learn His lessons, God's plan will still be carried on to completion (Philippians 1:6). This brings the focus off of myself and my mistakes and my depravity and on to God and the good work that He will complete and His desire for me to further His Kingdom, in His Name.

MUSTARD. In order for me to contribute to the Kingdom, I must be willing to put myself in situations where faith is possible. Which situations are these? They are often uncomfortable or awkward social scenarios where I have the opportunity to be an ambassador for the Kingdom in the lives of others. These are things that I naturally avoid because they are outside of my control. These are places that require faith. The book of James instills in me the belief that this faith is more than simple trust. Internally trusting the Truths of God's Word and the Rescue we find in the Life of His Son requires external action. Maybe the faith comes before the action, but maybe not. This duality is why James says that faith without works is dead (2:14-26). Certainly, however, works without faith are equally lifeless. The two must exist together. Mindless action is death. Action-less belief is death. A life of action informed by faith is the Life Christ has for us.

CHEESE. It won't always smell good. Along this Way, as we are going, we will make mistakes. We will drop mayo and cheese on the table, forget what the LARGE lettuce container looks like (seriously, the thing is huge and obvious), forget to properly prepare the mustard and spill pickle juice all over everything. But instead of sitting in our mess and wallowing in our own misery, we should follow the advice of Joel 2:12-13.

"'Yet even now' the Lord says, 'return to me with all your heart - with fasting, weeping, and mourning. Tear your hearts, not just your garments!' (13)Return to the Lord your God, for he is merciful and compassionate, slow to anger and boundless in loyal love - often relenting from calamitous punishment." (NET)

BREAD. So we don't just ignore our mistakes. No, here the Lord says to return with fasting, weeping, and mourning and to rend our hearts. Our mistakes and our intentional sin are to be taken seriously. But our return to Him will require that we move past this point of mourning. Again, I'm not trying to trivialize the mourning for our sin. Our sin grieves the Spirit (Ephesians 4) and should grieve us as well. Godly sorrow is an integral part of our faith. But we should not be crippled by our failures or disabled by our disparity. We have to believe in a God who has more in store. He is making us a sandwich.

Symphony

I am Your instrument.

The touch of Your hand,

the breath You breathe into me,

these are Your Love language.

But lately I've been playing myself.

My hand, my breath, my composition.

My sorrow, my death, my destruction.

A screeching lie I cry out to You.

The tinder is running low.

The flames approach my branches alone.

My life begins to approach the bone.

I squirm and squeal and hide.

But You reveal what's inside.

You found me in the gallows of self-abuse

strangling on my poorly tied noose.

As You cut the rope, i fall to the ground.

Then You breathe Life into me, a shiftless mound.

And once again, we are making music.