Tuesday, April 10, 2007


For all of my faithful bloggers who have been here ages, you can probably see what's coming, don't ya?

Yes, sigh, it's true, yet again I add another blog to my already gratuitous amount of online profiles.

Ah, but this time it's different. For you see, this new blog might very possibly become the old blog, and vice versa. I've loved blogger for a long time, and don't have any intention of closing this blog down, but I'm setting up a mirror blog over at Wordpress. the link is here. Let me know what you think!

Saturday, April 07, 2007

Filling My Empty Heart

Well, it’s that time of year again, the day before Easter, where we wait in anticipation of the coming celebration. I too am considering so many things in my life. Easter always seems to be the perfect time to reevaluate my life, to see the road that God has put me upon. So here are some simple thoughts from my heart. Not profound, by most standards, but deeply felt.

I tend to struggle with staying faithful to my spiritual responsibilities. Everyday life has a way of intruding, pushing it’s way between me and my faith, like a little kid sliding between two adults in conversation. I want to desire a rich life of faith; I feel such a need for something in my life. But online conversations, grocery store runs, dirty kitchens, coffee with a friend, everything makes itself so much more prevalent than spirituality.

I’ve come to find what I think is at least a partial answer to the problem. God is very subtle. And I don’t mean subtle in the sense that He beats around the bush; more like He’s the shadowy figure in the corner of the room. Sometimes it’s especially hard to find that individual in the shadows, because the rest of the room is so brightly lit by everything and everyone else vying for attention. The brighter the room, the darker the shadow. Sometimes, in this world of mega churches, with big rock bands, and people shouting out the messages of cultural relevance, God kind of slips away. And it’s there that I miss Him.

These past couple months have been very transformational for me. Frankly, it’s been considerably difficult merging back into family life. Coming back home, most of my friends from when I was formerly here are gone, or in other situations. It has been a time of lots of solitude and reflection. I’ve really struggled with my faith, because for the longest time, I rode on the coattails of friends and activities, things that I used as a safety net, so that if I felt lost in my relationship with God, I could fall back on all the busyness and friends and activities in my life. Now, being home in relative quietness, with little to occupy my time, I no longer can fall back on all those partially superficial things. God isn’t so subtle anymore. He’s come out of the shadows; He’s waiting for me. And it makes me feel uncomfortable.

It doesn’t change the fact that I try to fill up my time with other things. But it does mean that I no longer feel secure in those things. Being alone has made me face my faith head-on. What does God want from me? Why can’t I just find friends and activities and be secure in those things? Is God trying to punish me?

The Word says that whom the Lord loves, He disciplines. And when you take the word “discipline” here, I don’t think it means punishment. I think it means building up, Breaking through. There is a hole in my life, and when it’s not filled up with other things, it’s very, very empty.

I recently revisited some of my old blog posts, to see how my life has progressed. I was certain I would see how changed a person I am now, in comparison to what I was then. I was assured of my own maturity. However, the first post I read knocked me flat, because I found myself being chastised and instructed by my younger self. Here’s what I said:

I have struggled for a long time, because I have taken my talents, and put them before God. I have said, 'Since I am so good at this, I must do it, since I shouldn't waste talent'. I now know that I owe my talents to God, as it was Him who gave them to me. I realize that if I am able to give them to Him, he can mold those gifts into His perfect will. And in realizing that, I see that art is good, science is good, all knowledge is given by God, but these things, used for the purpose of themselves, makes them purposeless. So, I know that the only thing I can now claim to have is Jesus, and His love for me.

It struck me how true it is that I want everything in life but Christ. I am no more heavenly minded than the next guy, but I have no excuse. I’ve got the knowledge and the means to find a fulfilled life. All I have to do is commit it to God, day after day.

I’ve spent so much of my life looking for meaning in all the wrong places, when in truth, it was standing on the sidelines all along. Now that God is right there in front of me, I think I feel a bit insecure in what I have to offer. It’s a pretty meager offer, comparatively. But I’m finally willing to admit what I did in that post so long ago, that the only thing I can claim is what He gives me. I can’t offer anything real back to Him, I’m reliant on Him to give me anything of worth in the first place. The thing that I am fearful of is the only thing that can really offer me any security or meaning. God is slowly working through my heart, filling up that empty space. He’s the only thing that really fulfills.

Lord, even as this Easter season is upon us again, I feel insecure in the light of who I am, and who you are. I feel empty, much like the disciples must have felt in those days before you rose back to life. I’m insecure and doubtful. I want to believe in your promises, but don’t understand how. Please come back into my life, just as you did when you left death hollow and vacant, like the empty tomb you left, so that you could fill us instead. Please fill me as I try to seek you again, in isolation or in happy community. Help me to embrace your life wherever I am in life. Thank you that your love never fails. I wait in humble expectation of your love. Come quickly, Lord. Amen.

Monday, March 12, 2007

Virb Is The Word


So I've decided to host my music primarily at a fabulous new site, very similar to purevolume (yes, I bury myself even deeper in the cultural pit of social networking!). It's called Virb, and it's the next big thing.

You can listen to an old song, an old song re-recorded, and two new songs, right here. Cheers!

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Growing Young

Well everybody used to tell me
Big boys don't cry
I've been around enough to know
That that was a lie
That held back the tears
In the eyes of a thousand
Prodigal sons

We are children no more
We have sinned and grown old
But our Father still waits
And He watches down the road
To see the crying boys come running
Back into His arms
Growing young
-Rich Mullins

It's funny, the older and more mature I get, the more I think I would enjoy acting. I mean, I've done it all my life; it's been an integral part of my education. I've always loved the thrill of finding the groove of a character, and falling into place with the quirks and specialities of my assigned personality. But the more mature I become, the more I can delve into nuances and subtleties I never knew existed before. The more I grow into adulthood, the better I understand and appreciate the human nature.

It's an odd growth, coming into a deeper realization of the person I am becoming. It's like waking up, over and over again. Sometimes I absorb these characteristics consciously, sometimes not. But the more I internalize differing emotions and embody a more expressive rationale, the more I feel like I understand who I am, and the better I relate to others in life. However, inevitibly, it has also built into me a deeper understanding of the negative aspects of the human nature. Fear; sarcasm; obstinacy; recently I have become more and more aware of my shortcomings. I see that as much as I am capable of being a well-rounded, great guy, I am far more prone to fall and mess up. It disturbs me now in a way it never did before; it keeps me up at nights.

It's a strange irony. When I was young, just like any normal kid, I dreamt of an adult life, with all of its apparent priviledges and pleasures. Now that I'm here, I shoulder not only a deep responsibility for myself and others, but the weight of knowing I will inevitibly fail those people somewhere along the way. Sometimes in my darkest moments I think that I would love nothing better than to live in happy oblivion; not only with an innocence, but with naivety. To be ignorant of evil and sorrow. It's a hard burden to bear the knowledge of good and evil. I better understand now, what I betrayal Adam and Eve's choice was of God's love. They had life, and peace given by a loving Father, and they chose knowledge over God's life. I see that I unfortunately fall into this lie occasionally as well. And if I were truly honest with myself, I'd love nothing more than to give it up for ignorant bliss.

When I was young I used to think that it would be rather impressive to experience sorrow and pain, like I saw in the lives of others around me. It seemed almost as if it were a proud and important burden to bear. Now, having lived through my own moments of sadness and difficulty, I know that such thinking was earnest, but misguided childishness. There is nothing good or pleasant or true about pain, sorrow, or sin. They are simply true to themselves. They are a bleak and stark picture of wrong. There is, simply put, no right about it.

But there is right beyond it. C.S. Lewis once said that "pain is God's megaphone to arouse a dead world". In otherwords, pain is the conduit of meaningful redemption. Pain is what I would call a negative virtue. In existing and working in our lives, it proves the need for the very opposite of what it embodies. Like the void that proves the absence, and therfore the need for light, pain and sorrow open our eyes not only to the existence, but the profound need for hope and love. It's almost as if we need that pain to understand the depth of love.

I hear people throw the phrase "Faith like a child" around all the time. Most often, it is used in a context that proposes that such faith should exist as if we were innocent, perhaps even unknowledgeable of doubt and fear. I think this is utter nonsense. When we have experienced true sorrow in our lives, it can never fully be removed from our heart. It is forever a burden and grief that only heaven can fully heal. To pretend like that grief doesn't exist, to ignore it, is to buy into a lie that ultimately leads to breakdown. No, faith like a child cannot be held together by a false-naivety. There is a much stronger bond that holds the fibers of faith in place.

Love. It hopes in all things, it believes in all things, and perhaps most importantly, it endures all things. The Apostle Paul himself said that the greatest virtue, even beyond faith, is love. This is because love doesn't deny the grief of sin and sorrow. It doesn't take on a false sense of guiltlessness. It instead fills that void of sadness with the grace of Christ's sufficient love. Love covers a multitude of sin. We can't forget the heaviness of a heart grown old and worn with sin, but we can always choose to grow young again by living in the love that Christ has offered for us. We don't live in false naivety that leads to short-fallen expectations, but rather we choose to live in a knowledgeable innocence, where we will still be haunted in the night by sin and sorrow, but comforted by the hope of Christ's love that allows us to sleep in peace.

Perhaps love is like acting after all! It takes onto itself a role; in the case of the human nature, it displays the character and nature of the greatest role of all: Christ. Even as I would embody the personality and virtues of my character in a play, in reality I absorb the truth and personhood of Christ. And with that role well practiced and internalized, I live out the ultimate play of life. When I feel the pain of my life as it is in the real world, with difficulties and grief, I have to put on the character of Christ, and live in Him again. Pain is natural. Christ is supernatural. He transcends what we know, and transforms us into we desire in Him. Through this putting on of Christ, I am able to live my life, and push beyond sin and sorrow; not forgetting or ignoring those hinderances, but instead pushing beyond them to live in true grace and love.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Yes, It's True!


I am, in fact, Smarter Than A 5th Grader. There are 200 decades in 2 millenia, not 20. But then again, that question might challenge you if you aren't good at basic math. Like, 2X5=...Duh...Uhmmm...Wait a second...Oh yeah! 10!

This show is not only telling example of where the intelligence of our country stands, but also just plain embarrassing. Or, it might just show how absolutely meaningless most of the stuff is that we learn in our public schools. All I gotta say is, save me. Or shoot me. I'm not sure which.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Cloud Nine (or actually quite a lot more than nine!)


Check it out! WORD CLOUD!

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Turn, Turn, Turn


Sometimes I wonder if there is unimaginable beauty in the midst of monotany. Everytime the sun shines down its rays, the beauty and profound intricacy of the light is a pouring out of God's life and creativity. Yes, the sun has, for thousands of years, shone down on every person alive. It rises and sets, rises and sets, over and over again. And yet, every time it does, its luminous glory remains unfaded. We humans live as if all transformations are positive to our lives, every metamorphosis an alteration for the better; that variety and growth are not only good, but central to our human condition. Surely there is a seed of truth in such a thought; but is God Himself not unhcanging? Surely the true miracle of life is its constancy. The sun's beauty is unfading and remarkable, not because we fear it's future distruction and change; no rather, it is the fact that it rose today, and will, in all expectancy, rise again tomorrow.

The sun's rays are especially bright this afternoon, reflecting off the newly fallen snow outside. As it filters in through the blinds on my window, dividing into varying blinding strips of light, I wonder at my own tranquility. I could have easily missed this small miracle; I am prone to menial distractions, empty illusions of enteratainment. I am feeble and weak, oftn unable to see beauty and truth staring me in the face, much less reach out to it. But we are made with an imaged stamped onto our souls, and I am no more able to reject that identity than I am my own name. Even engaged in a life-long struggle to free myself from my fallibility, when I take hold of my own identity, endowed by a father's hand from which I cannot disown myself, I am free.

We are created for constancy. Nature knows this; it repeats itself again and again, like a relentless shout of praise going up to heaven. We too know this, deep in our hearts, even if we stumble and fall all over our own foolish free wills. When we grasp order over chaos, constancy over pointless change, we glorify God even great than the natural world around us. Nature praises God in sacred monotany because it can do nothing else; if we fail, the rocks themselves will cry out. But when we, as humans with frustrating free wills, struggle over our own falleness and blindness, we have something greater: Communion. The word is often understood as coming together to praise God. But perhaps it is something more. Perhaps communion, just like the act associated with the word, namely the eucharist, is about an intentional, meaningful choice to come back, to do the act again and again. The most common of elements, bread and wine. Take this body, broken for you; take this blood, which was spilled for you. I will not forget; I will remember. I will do it again and again. Bread of life, common and average, of little variety. Bread of life, I will come back.

As the sun fades behind the foothills, leaving a brilliant line of fire streaking across the treeline, I know in my heart that I will praise again. I will stop for a moment again. Monotonous, but increasingly sacred and beautiful with each repetition. I will come again. I will come again.

Post Script
Many thanks to G.K. Chesterton for inspiring me to write this post. :)