Little Things

I'm on a journey toward my dreams. And, as you can imagine, it's not always the easiest thing in the world. After I muster up enough courage to take a step forward, I'll stop and look around. I just want to see if I took the right step, or if it was a bad one. Sometimes I can't tell by myself. I have to look to other people for the objectivity I lack. One can have too many "yes men" in their life. Seriously, you really can't make room for one, except for your mother, perhaps.

Then I find myself waiting for glimpses of hope. Something that happens that tells me things are all going to work out. I've been raised to look for the big signs of affirmation (the applause, the money, the success) as proof that I'm on the right track. My eyes are learning that that kind of long-term, mostly superficial vision is merely a distraction, that really I shouldn't look so far ahead. That perhaps those big doses of encouragement are overrated.

I'm beginning to believe that the best things in life are found in the little things...the things that I might miss if I'm not looking. It's the tiny turns and twists in the road that take us to the new places...seldom new Interstates that we come across. Beauty is found in the nuance of the present. I keep praying, "God help me to see how you want to surprise me today." And he usually answers with something beautiful and meaningful...and small.

Dialogue with Dad.

DAD: Did you hear anything about that TV show "The Book of Daniel"? [He then included Don Wildmon's report on how the show descecrated everything about faith and Jesus.}

ME: Hey dad - I actually did watch this show. It was a two hour pilot of a new series they're trying out. I don't think it's going to make it...it wasn't very good. There were some good moments that touched on the reality of life as a Christian, that weren't very pretty. But my Christian life, and those around me, isn't very pretty either. It kind of makes me sad that people like Don Wildmon spend so much time pointing out how horrible everything is. Perhaps we can focus on good stuff...and find the redeeming elements of things in culture...inspiring people to be more positive and faith-infused themselves, rather than weary of the culture and on the defense against all the media and arts.

Phew...just a thought. What do you think?

DAD: Well, it's like politics. If we didn't have two far-reaching basic differences, there wouldn't be need for organized religion or a risen Savior. Satan would have a field day with all of us. Praise God we can share our opinions without government imprisonment. Let's keep it that way. We have educational and media systems which worship the differences in people and forget about the basic beliefs of our founding fathers. Unfortunately, "good" truth doesn't sell TV ads or newspapers. Wildmon keeps us focused on these basic beliefs, the strength and backbone of the USA. There is still room for constructive differences of opinion.

I am concerned about your comment "...my Christian life and those around me isn't very pretty" What are you trying to tell me?

ME: Hey pop - hope you're doing great this morning. thanks again for the continued dialogue...and for asking questions like this one, re: "...my Christian life and those around me isn't very pretty" What are you trying to tell me?

Here goes. I grew up thinking that the Christian life was about being pretty...about having a firm handshake and a big smile...and performing well for the crowds. I didn't know anything about brokenness. Part of that's age, part of that is church influence. But I'm surrounded by guys who are mostly broken, but are holding onto hope that Christ is a good, loving, compassionate Savior. Someone who is working on us, more than we can work on ourselves. In the meantime, we struggle. We deal with crap. It's not very pretty. Many people drink too much, smoke too much, too addicted to porn or other sexual things outside of their marriages, drugs, anger, separation from spouse and family, ego, eny, pride, jealousy, selfish ambition...i could go on, unfortunately.

That's what I was referring to. There's nothing pretty about living in honest community with other people. But there's a beauty to it that transcends it all...a beauty that feels like grace and love, something that comes from outside of ourselves.

Ok...your turn. Any thoughts? Love you....

DAD: Hi Mark- Thanks for sharing. You've decided to involve yourself in an area most people try to avoid...honesty with self, non-judgmental behavior of fellow believers, willingness to sacrifice time, talent, resources to help others, etc., etc.. I admire your position and wish I had 1/8th the compassion you demonstrate to the guys who are hurting.

There will always be opportunity for those who reach out to "the hurting" and disenfranchised. The "church" usually is a grouping of geese-like clones of each other, seeking comfort and purpose without having to pay a price for that. Therefore, "the comfortable pew," [is filled by] the self-satisfied, blinded-by-the-beauty-of-it-all "successful folks" who sail through life without confrontation for their sinful thoughts and behaviors. I am guilty as charged.

You are an amazing source of encouragement and hope for many folks--including your pop.

Loveyamore,
: ) pop

That's How You Show It?

So you want me?
And that's how you show it?
You're gonna have to do better than that
If you want all of me
My heart doesn't come so cheap
No, this love ain't so free
Not up for just a one night thing
But a full-time affair
What I want is a little bit more
Than you just being there
If you got it in you
Only you can say
But you better let me know
In a little different way

How Much Are You Worth?

At times I feel like I'm in elementary school, waiting on the playground for someone to pick me to play for their kickball team. For someone to say, "Hey you, there. We need you for our team!" Someone please pick me, I seem to cry out, in a variety of now semi-grown-up ways.

WORTH is something that me and my friends talk about alot. But it's not about money or stuff that you own. It's about how valuable you are to the world. To be honest, I tend to choose friends that I perceive to be valuable. You know, people that bring value to your life. As opposed to people that devalue your life, by treating you like crap. It seems like it's pretty easy to tell when people don't see your own personal value. Although, at the core of it, it's probably not about you at all. It's more about them not being able to see their true value that's hindering them from fully loving you.

At times, I feel like I'm primping myself to get ready for the flea market. Not to go buy anything, but to put myself up for sale. I position myself just right on the folding table and watch the people walk by. "Free Samples!" I exclaim to certain strangers.

If I'm constantly looking for other people to determine my value (or the value of my art!), I'm only setting myself up for disappointment. The key for me seems to be found in taking time to meditate on how loved I am by God and the people around me who know me completely. I can take my question of value to them. But when I take that question outside of that small circle, I will certainly go crazy.

With my small band of brothers, we know that we have to constantly remind each other of our worth and value...it's so easy to devalue ourselves...and easy to assume that other people don't ever forget their value.

The Ceremony

All together there were only twelve. But two of them were special. Sally knew that she was one of the special ones, mostly because of her braids. She didn't realize that her braids were going to be what would get her in the most trouble.

Carmen would never have imagined herself to be one of the special ones. Mostly because of her teeth and bad acne.

Nobody liked Amanda. She thought she was better than everyone. Just because she was three inches taller than the other girls.

When it was time for the winners to be chosen, Sally stayed in her cabin. Amanda was up front and center.

The candles were burning and all the girls were sweating. It smelled like someone just cooked pancakes.

The Space Between

It was not so much that she had a fear of dying, she was actually afraid of the space between the time when you know you are going to die and when it actually happens. The consciousness of approaching death was making her knees feel like they were going to give out as she stood on the upper reaches of the church steeple. This was unlike any other church steeple Keri had ever seen. The top of Vor Frelsers Kirke, or Church of our Savior, was completed in 1696 by a man who desired to have the steeple able to be climbed by anyone who wanted to have one of the most spectacular views of Copenhagen. Rumor has it that the man finished wrapping the tiny steps up to the top and realized he had actually incorrectly constructed the stairway, wrapping it counter-clockwise up the steeple instead of the assigned clockwise manner, and jumped from the heights in a fit of desperation.

Keri could not stop thinking about how simple it would be jump from where she was at, the small protective wall barely reached over her knees. The group of friends she was with did not help; they were all pushing to get up as high as they possibly could, even though there was only space for one person to be where Keri stood. A gusty breeze made her hair blow in front of her eyes. As she reached for her hair, cautiously positioning it behind her ears, she pictured the architect jumping from where she stood and imagined the wind carrying him a bit to the left, probably landing near the sidewalk below. Some innocent passerby would most likely have had their day ruined by being in that place at that wrong time.

She certainly didn’t want to jump; she just felt how easy it would be to accidentally be nudged over the side. It was this feeling that Keri decided she wanted to avoid at all costs the entire rest of her life. She began thinking that humans are constantly moving through the space between life and death, even if they are mostly unaware of how that space is shrinking every day. That trip up the steeple was what it took for Keri to decide she had to begin taking control of her space.