I am Seriously the Rain King

I love Lord of the Rings, and when I tell people that they either think I’m kidding or laugh or just think I’m weird. But I still love Lord of the Rings. Tolkien is a genius in so many ways. For example, he invented multiple languages while writing LOTR, and he invented a whole world with extensive history, unique cultures, and brilliant characters. I first read LOTR when I was in 7th or 8th grade, and it was a great story and easy to read. I just recently picked up the books again and right now I’m about 200 pages into the Fellowship of the Ring. As a snobby writer, when I start a book, I analyze the way the writer employs language and assess their capabilities with all of language’s intricacies (ridiculous for a 19-year-old, I know). I thought, as I picked up the book again a few weeks ago, that Tolkien would be, stylistically speaking, an average writer, not amazing, but not poor. But as I read the opening pages of his tale I was in awe.

 

The language is beautiful, a feat in and of itself, but it is beautiful in a way that few writers can render it. As I read Tolkien I feel as if I am being read the book, not as if I am reading it. It’s like I am sitting in his house, cuddled around his hearth, listening to him tell me a story. In Heart of Darkness, which is Josh the Playwright’s favorite book, Marlow tells his story to a few sailors on a boat. It follows the oral tradition of story, and Tolkien uses language in such a way in his novel Lord of the Rings. I find it nearly impossible to make language both uniquely beautiful and easily read by the masses. If I write something with lofty language that is beautiful, but that is not for the layman, then what is my work truly worth? If I write a good story with poor language and boring style, then what is my work truly worth?

 

Walt Whitman taught me an important thing, and that is to write to ordinary people. I wrote a novella before I learned this lesson, and I like my novella a lot, but I don’t think it speaks to everybody. If I were to read my novella as an outsider I would perhaps think the writer had a very specific audience to which he was writing. I don’t want to do that, I want to reach an audience large and great in size: young and old, black and white, American or Canadian, whatever whatever whatever, I don’t care! If you are a person, I want my book to be directed toward you in some way. And Minus the Sunlight is not that (my novella, I really like that name and if you want to help me get it published please do haha). However, as I am forging my new work, I am keeping these newly learned lessons in mind.

 

I want to read my Bible so I am going to say one more thing about LOTR and then be done with this.

 

As a writer, it is sometimes hard to feel like I am glorifying God in what I do. I feel like people think I should be a “Christian writer” or something. Like Philip Yancey or Donald Miller or something, but I don’t want to do that. I just want to write stories; that’s where my heart is. But Tolkien has encouraged me lately.

 

In LOTR there is an epic battle between good and evil, Mordor and free Middle Earth. If you know the tale you know a fellowship of different races is forged to help Frodo in his quest to destroy the Ring, the manifestation of everything evil. The fellowship is made up of four hobbits, two men, a wizard, an elf, and a dwarf. Each member of the fellowship is fighting for the same cause but does so in a different way. Each member of the fellowship battles against evil with their own specific talents. You can fight for the same cause in a million different ways. You can fight the same evil in a million different ways.

 

And that is where my hope lies. I pray and earnestly hope that I am serving the cause of our Lord in my writing, because I long to serve Him.

 

Peace. 

Carving Out Our Names

My friend Peter from North Carolina has a blog and one time I read an entry about how the kingdom of God, our Lord, is like a tree. (Peter also told me that he befriended me so he could be a character in one of my stories.) I think that is beautiful because trees are beautiful and if a tree had God in it it’d be really beautiful. Trees are beautiful. They grow in all sorts of ways to get the sunshine and capture the glorious sun. They distort and contort and are beautiful from every angle. They have different colors and leaves that fall sometimes and sometimes not.

 

It’s funny that he should say that because I think God likes trees a lot or something. Jesus loves botany. It’s everywhere in the Bible. Like here:

 

Jeremiah 17:7-8 says, “Blessed is the man who trusts in YHWH, and whose trust is in YHWH. For he will be like a tree planted by the water, that extends its roots by a stream and will not fear when the heat comes; but its leaves will be green, and it will not be anxious in a year of drought nor cease to yield fruit.”

 

So that’s a beautiful verse and talks about what Peter talks about. Here is why it is beautiful: because it’s not me or my water. If it were up to me I would be screwed in the drought. Remember what Josh the Quarterback says: when you read the Bible always keep Jesus in mind. So that’s what I try to do. And in the context of this verse it’s like this: We are a like tree if we stay close, if we trust, in God. And if we stay by God in the desert-like times we don’t even have to worry. It will hurt and it will be hard but deep down inside of us the Spirit will say, “It’s going to be fine.” Jesus loves botany. Jesus wants us to be big tall trees that bear lots of fruit so that Daddy gets the glory.

 

John 15:4 says, “Abide in Me and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me.”

 

I like fruit. I like Jesus, too. And Jesus likes fruit. Here’s the beautiful part: if we aren’t in Jesus we can’t do anything. Isn’t that beautiful? I have to be reminded daily that it’s not me doing anything. It’s all Jesus. Literally, if Jesus weren’t Jesus we’d be nothing. Me and Josh the Quarterback talked about this yesterday, or two days ago I can’t remember. But Hebrews 1:3 says, “And He is the radiance of His glory and the exact representation of His nature, and upholds all things by the Word of His power.” If Jesus weren’t holding everything up, it’d all fall apart. So on one level, we can’t do anything without Christ because if it were: World — Christ . . . the answer would = chaos. Hell.

 

In another sense, and I touched about this briefly in the last entry, it goes like this: if I do something out of my own, or for my own benefit, then it glorifies me. Even if I do a moral or ethical act, but have not Christ’s love, it is nothing. Like Paul said in his first letter to the Corinthians, “And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrendered my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing.” Hunter! Pay attention bucko! Gosh that seems so obvious. If I do all this and all that for poor people but don’t do it for God’s glory, don’t do it with love, it is nothing! Nothing. nothing

Josh the Playwright is in the UK but before he went to the UK we went to mass together and I really like mass. It is such a good compliment to evangelical worship, and so very (obviously) different. One thing I really liked about it was how much scripture is read to you. There is a little sermon thingy but much of the mass is the Bible speaking for itself, and not that sermons or interpretations are bad or anything, but there’s something to say about just having the Bible read to you. Like for instance this problem right here, that we are talking about. If I do all this shit for the poor but don’t love Jesus, it’s nothing. Paul says that rather clearly and I don’t really have to sermonize anything for you to understand what he means.

 

My favorite book of the Bible is Hosea. You might know this already. I read Hosea over and over and over again. It’s so beautiful because Israel and Judah mess up and betray God and then He says He is angry but then all He does is love them. I identify with Israel because I realize that every day I betray God. I commit adultery every day, and I think adultery is a big deal: “If there is a man who commits adultery with another man’s wife, one who commits adultery with his friend’s wife, the adulterer and the adulteress shall surely be put to death.” –Leviticus 20:10

 

God told Hosea that Israel was committing adultery in Hosea chapter one, “Go, take to yourself a wife of harlotry and have children of harlotry; for the land commits flagrant harlotry, forsaking the Lord.”

 

Crap, having read what was just said in Leviticus, what are the ramifications for those who commit “flagrant harlotry” . . . death if I read that verse right. Gulp . . .

 

Thank goodness for Jesus, because when we keep Him in mind we realize that He will always love us and come back to us. I will leave you with more botany, and keep Jesus in mind, and keep the fact that you and I are adulterers in mind (oh and really do think about Jesus because think about how prophetic this passage is):

 

“I will heal their apostasy, I will love them freely, for My anger has turned away from them. I will be like the dew to Israel; He will blossom like the lily, and he will take root like the cedars of Lebanon. His shoots will sprout, and his beauty will be like the olive tree and his fragrance like the cedars of Lebanon. Those who live in his shadow will again raise grain, and they will blossom like the vine. His renown will be like the wine of Lebanon. O Ephraim, what more have I to do with idols? It is I who answer and look after you. I am like a luxuriant cypress; from Me comes your fruit.” –Hosea 14:4-8

I Would Kiss Adam Duritz

Because I am this:

Prone to sad before happy.

Prone to gloom before joy.

Prone to pessimism before optimism.

Prone to focusing on wrong before focusing on right.

Prone to all things rain before all things sun.

Jesus is perfect for me!

 

But, because I am this:

Human.

I don’t like to rely on Jesus to fix all my problems.

 

I don’t like the free grace that Christ gives. Don’t take that the wrong way. I’m saying, when we boil our nature down to our fallen humanity, we want to prove ourselves. We want to do it on our own. We don’t like the fact that we cannot do anything without Christ. If that’s not true for you, then maybe I really am a freak, because that’s how my life works. I spend so much time trying to earn God’s approval, trying to be my own righteousness, trying to be my own Jesus, that I forget to let Christ do that so He gets all the glory. It’s such a burden! It’s such a burden trying to do it by myself! So, if I don’t humble myself daily, I will fail. If I don’t give it all to Christ on a given day, I will fail. I can’t do anything good outside of Christ. If I do something moral without Christ, which I believe is possible, but it is not done in Christ, it doesn’t glorify Him, so then what good is it? It is chaff in the wind.

 

The first verse I ever memorized by myself was John 15:4, which says (Jesus talking), “Abide in Me and I in you, as the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the Vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me.” Isn’t that funny? The first verse I memorized is so close to my nature it’s brilliant irony. It’s close to all human nature me thinks, but especially for me. Because when I try to do it on my own I just get sad and then it all starts spiraling down, but if I remember verses like these, I will (hopefully, prayerfully) remember that it’s (thank God) up to Christ to be my righteousness.

 

Hope hope!

 

I need to pray a lot too; else I get in the “it’s all about me” kinda phase. I have to pray like this, a sonnet by John Donne:

 

BATTER my heart, three person'd God; for, you

As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend;

That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow mee,'and bend

Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.

I, like an usurpt towne, to'another due,

Labour to'admit you, but Oh, to no end,

Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,

But is captiv'd, and proves weake or untrue.

Yet dearely'I love you,'and would be loved faine,

But am betroth'd unto your enemie:

Divorce mee,'untie, or breake that knot againe;

Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I

Except you'enthrall mee, never shall be free,

Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee.

 

Also, I love the Counting Crows so much. This is why: Adam is so honest and true to himself that he is honest and true to human nature. Oh my gosh it’s so beautiful but so many people don’t see how great they are! It’s disgusting! Especially people my age, gosh. I love them so much I just have to express that right now. Okay, dear reader, will you please PLEASE do me a favor? Like seriously. I really want you to do this. I want you to go do ONE of the following FIVE options (not that you can’t do more than one):

1) Go listen to the song “Insignificant.” I like this song, it’s not one of my favorite CC songs but it’s good and defines human nature.

2) Go listen to AND Google the lyrics for “Round Here.” This is one of my top three CC songs. It’s about how, when you are young, you are told to go make a name for yourself, and to be famous. When you’re young you have to go to bed early but you have all this so-called “freedom” when you’re older but it’s to no avail.

3) Go buy August and Everything After. This CD was released September 14, 1993, when grunge metal and Nirvana and all that stuff was the mainstream thing. Oh gosh, AAEA is and always will be (mark my words) my favorite CD, so go get it.

4) Listen to “Mr. Jones.” A lot of you have probably heard it and like it, because it’s a catchy song and one of their hits, but the lyrics are actually quite amazing. The song is very close to human nature also: “When everybody loves me, I will never be lonely.” Right?

5) Okay, last choice. Go buy the song (99 cents, please, it’s the least you can do. Am I worth 99 cents?) “A Murder of One.” BUT WAIT! The recorded one is on their first album August and Everything After, but I want you to get the LIVE version off the CD “Across a Wire,” released in 1998. Please please go get it. “I have been to Paris, and I have been to Rome, I’ve gone to New York City and I am all alone.” Wow I get real emotional listening to this song . . . think about it. This guy, Adam, CC’s lead singer, has sold over 20 million records and he is all alone. What wisdom and insight! This is human nature my friends!

 

Adios, please do one of those if you love me. Yes I just pulled the “if you love me” card.

 

I have to go work on my novel/trilogy woohoo!

Stuck In Circles

It’s weird how alike people can be. Just a few hours ago I was with my friends William and Tiffany recalling how William and I have had several moments where I am thinking something, and he says the exact same thing, or vice versa. Today we were talking about announcing my birthday and immediately I thought of the Party Planning Committee from The Office; I didn’t say anything. But lo and behold, William perks up and says that we should start a Party Planning Committee for my birthday. Gosh darn it.

 

Two days ago I hung out with Josh the Playwright, and, as you have read already, we are sort of the same person. And this time we weren’t talking about the feminine nature of the Cross, but the concept of ideas versus being, concept versus concrete, the spiritual versus the incarnation.

 

Now, obviously, moderation is something that is always needed. So when I gripe against our obsession with spiritualizing everything, realize I am trying to let us see that we need to tip the scale, not polarize to the incarnation.

 

Here’s the deal: I’m stuck in circles. (Bear with me, because right now I am going to voice a concern with the evangelical church, but later I am going to voice a concern with the writing community, who I usually deify and hold in high, uncritical regard, so just be patient.) My problem lies here: so much of the time in the church we “spiritualize” things. What I mean is this: If something bad happens, some of the time we blame it on Satan. What we don’t do enough, as I believe we should, is ask ourselves the question, “What did I do to try to make the situation different?” Here’s another example: You might be tired of me going back to Africa but I will always go back to Africa. When many Christians talk about Africa, and many people in general (non-Christians, agnostics, whatever), they tend to blame or question God in regard to the pain, disease, and material lack in Africa. In a sense, we spiritualize a problem that, otherwise, we could have a huge impact on. One last example: Many times I am sitting in a Bible study, church in general, or some other gathering of Christians, and I am overcome with an angst for movement, for action. Especially in Dallas, where we have the seminary and more churches than Christians, we love, I mean love, to debate theological footnotes. We adore the combative nature of concepts like free will or predestination or whatever. We spend so much time dwelling on ideas, and so little time dwelling on the physical solutions to pain, hunger, disease, and want!

 

The first circle I find myself in is that of Christians, and it is a circle I love and would not trade for anything. The second circle I find fault in is the writing community, and moreover the academic community. As writers, we try to make everything so damn deep and stuff. We try to inflate stories with meaning and poetry with loftiness (not always, obviously, but a lot of the time), and we seemingly forget the nature of this life: Five senses. We have eyes to see, ears to hear, noses to smell, hands to feel, and tongues to taste, but we have become so absorbed by our minds that we disregard our five senses! Why do we forget so easily that without our physical senses, we would be not? In Christian terms, why do we forget so easily the incarnation of Christ? The fact that he slithered out of a 15-year-old’s vagina covered in birth goop? We have wrapped ourselves around ideas, Christians and writers, and have forgotten that the nature of action lies on the physical manifestation of these ideas, not the debate or discussion of them.

 

And so, in attempt to offer solutions to voiced problems, here is my effort. As for blaming problems on Satan or our own brokenness, and altogether focusing on the loss and not the possibility of restoration, I offer you this:

 

“Therefore, putting aside all filthiness and all that remains of wickedness, in humility receive the word implanted, which is able to save your souls. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks his natural face in a mirror; for once he has looked on himself and gone away, he has immediately forgotten what kind of person he was . . . Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.” –James 1:21-24; 27

 

And we must remind ourselves who the “word” James speaks of is: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” The “word” is our Lord Christ Jesus!

 

So, as James says, we must become “effectual doers,” not mere hearers, listeners, or discussers! If we love the Father, if we truly love the Father, it will follow that we will be doers. So what is one solution offering to the obsession of concept over being? It is to touch, to ask the Great Being for a strength, a love that abides not in ideas but in action, in rough love, in such a way that we would find ourselves waiting at the hands and feet of orphans and widows. For example, I have a friend in Dallas whose name is Shae. She is brilliant and loves Jesus and you can tell because she is a doer and not merely a hearer. She works with IJM (International Justice Mission) in freeing people from forced prostitution and slavery. She raises money in her community and literally changes, saves really, lives in the name of our Lord.

 

Another example (for Mary): In one of, if not the, greatest stories of all time, a little hobbit takes action that leads to the restoration of a kingdom. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings is an amazing tale of reality. In talking of spiritual versus physical, Tolkien provides the perfect picture. If you have read the books or seen the movies, recall the scene in Rivendell when they great leaders of the nations are debating on what to do with the Ring. Elves, men, dwarves, hobbits and a wizard gather together to discuss the fate of Middle Earth. Not long after the adjournment of the meeting heated argument arises, tearing apart the allies who stand against Sauron and Mordor. Amidst the clamor, the discussion, a small hobbit, our friend Frodo, stands up and announces, “I will take it.” Gandalf’s brow darkens as he realizes the incredible toll the task will take from the halfling. Frodo does what we all should: stand against the ever-long debate and take action. Incarnate action. Frodo bears the yoke of all Middle Earth around his neck as Christ bears our yoke on the Cross.

 

The ideas are important only for this reason: When Christ’s ideas are realized and truly “implanted,” they bring love to fruition in physical action.

 

I do not discount the spiritual! Prayer is one of the most beautiful things we have and is a very “spiritual” thing . . . we must learn to balance the pendulum, steady the ship, placate the ebb and flow of our tide. We must realize this metaphysical obsession and reap the loving harvest of Christ’s incarnation.

 

“Even so faith, if it has no works, is dead, being by itself.” –James 2:17

Flower Power

A couple weeks ago, before Thanksgiving break, I was talking to Josh the Playwright at the Java House, and we talked about the feminine nature of Christ. Now, don’t get me wrong, I recognize that physically, Christ is a guy, but His ministry and His ultimate sacrifice were and are very feminine things. We had been talking about politics, and the phraseology associated with campaigns and such. Campaigns tell you they will “stay firm,” “try hard till the finish,” or “push through.” It might be crude, but it’s true. Related to this is war phraseology: “penetrate” the enemy lines and what not. Very masculine imagery. The aim of these such endeavors is to attack, to thrust forward, to protrude outward with one’s own being or abilities.

 

In Matthew 5, basically the foundation of Christ’s teaching, we are told something radically different. Jesus says, right off the bat, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” Bam! Is that not a huge shot below the waist? Being poor is something completely unmasculine. Hell, so much of my manhood depends on my paycheck. Jesus says poor in “spirit,” which, I believe, is heavily related to a passage found later in Matthew: “Let the children alone, and do not hinder them from coming to Me; for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these” (19:14). Jesus said that to the disciples, who were “rebuking” the children. If I were a disciple (these guys were late teens to early twenties), I’d have said, “What the hell, Jesus? You’re not their babysitter!” Isn’t it awesome that Jesus told the disciples off like that? What does this remind you of: a person with a bunch of little kids around them, acting protective and telling the older ones (in this case, the disciples) to act more like the younger ones. Well . . . think for a second . . . it reminds me of a . . . wait for it . . . a mother! Dads, don’t hear it like that, y’all are great too, but there is something in a mother that is inherently protective of her children. We are God’s, Christ’s, Sophia’s children: John says, in 1st John, “See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us, that we would be called children of God; and such we are.” (My stomach feels warm and fuzzy.) And the list goes on: “Blessed are . . . those who mourn, the gentle, those who hunger and thirst, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, those who have been persecuted.” And further on in the chapter: “Do not resist an evil person . . . give to him who asks of you . . . love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” So many of these attributes are seemingly motherly, feminine, things. (In contrast: Ancient Rome: gladiators chopping each other’s heads off. Jesus’ teaching is distinctly different.)

 

Now, what is the ultimate weapon, in a sense, of Christianity? Is it a missile-launching tank? Or a sword that bursts into flames when it hits Satan in the face? Or a plasma grenade? No—it is Christ’s sacrifice on the cross; it is our Lord literally taking in our sins, receiving what we have done wrong. Christ’s death is not an outward action, but a bearing of our yoke. Our filth. Like a mother, laying herself down at her own expense, seeking to protect and lover her children, so Christ lays Himself down, humbling Himself to the power of Satan, only to resurrect Himself in order to complete the process. Christ’s power is vaginal, receiving the seed of what we, you and I, have sown, and bringing to fruition His own righteousness. He takes in with compassion, mercy, and grace.

 

As I was thinking about this, I decided to read some excerpts from the Qur’an, Islam’s holy book, knowing there would undoubtedly be a fundamental difference between the feminine nature of Christ’s deference to God’s will and the heart of Islam. So here is an excerpt from the Qur’an, regarding paradise:

 

[Note: every ellipsis in the following passage marks a place in the original where the question “Which of your Lord’s blessings would you deny?” is repeated.]

 

“But for those who fear the majesty of their Lord there are two gardens. . . . They shall recline on couches lined with thick brocade, and within reach will hang the fruit of both gardens. . . . Therein are bashful virgins whom neither man nor jinee [spirits] will have touched before. . . . Virgins as fair as corals and rubies. . . . Shall the reward of goodness be anything but good? . . . And besides these there shall be two other gardens . . . of darkest green. . . . A gushing fountain shall flow in each. . . . Each planted with fruit-trees, the palm and the pomegranate. . . . In each there shall be virgins chaste and fair. . . . Dark-eyed virgins sheltered in their tents . . . whom neither man nor jinee will have touched before. . . . They shall recline on green cushions and fine carpets. Which of your Lord’s blessings would you deny?”

 

Versus an excerpt from Revelation 21:

 

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth passed away, and there is no longer any sea. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, made ready as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne, saying, ‘Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them, and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away.’ . . . (Ch. 22) . . . Then he showed me a river of the water of life, clear as crystal, coming from the throne of God and of the Lamb, in the middle of its street.”

 

I don’t know where to start. First of all, I’d like to say how tired I am of this life being about me. Every day: me, me, me, me. And even though I’m tired and weary from the “me-yoke;” it’s impossible for me to change that without Christ. My heaven, Christ’s heaven, the heaven, is about deference to God; it’s about submitting to a greater Being; it’s not about plucking fruit from trees and having sex with virgins. Islam’s paradise is literally thus: putting your own seed into virgins . . . While, to Christ, I am a bride. Hallelujah!

 

The nature of Islam’s heaven is this: It’s about you, in a garden, eating fruit and delighting yourself in virgins. [I realize this is a simplification from a biased person, but go ahead and do the research yourself.]

 

The nature of YHWH’s heaven is this: It’s about Him, His Son, and His Spirit, in a city; it’s about Him dwelling among His people and wiping away every tear for His glory. [This also is a simplification, but for further reading check out the entirety of Revelation 21 and 22.]

 

Having said all this, I realize that Christianity isn’t only feminine in nature. For example, “He is clothed with a robe dipped in blood, and His name is called The Word of God. And the armies which are in heaven, clothed in fine linen, white and clean, were following Him on white horses” (Revelation 19:13-14). Also, Christ is literally incarnate as a man, and God is referred to as our “Father.”

 

One of the countess beauties of Christianity, and the reality we all dwell in, is the fusion of the masculine and the feminine in Christ Jesus. YHWH sets up a paradoxical dichotomy for us on earth: We are in a war, generally a masculine sort of thing, but we must realize that our enemies are “the spiritual forces of wickedness,” and not against anything, and may I repeat anything, physical in nature. We are in a war (the masculine), but what is our greatest weapon? Our greatest strength is love (the feminine). Our greatest weapon is Christ’s sacrifice; our greatest weapon against Satan is deference to God.

 

It’s not about us. (Thank YHWH, imagine if it actually was about us. What if we had to sort out this mess? Oh dear.)

 

Also, let me say that I officially love Van Morrison.

 

 

A Dragon, a Hobbit, and Our Lord

This past summer, in July, my dad took me to Scotland. We saw the Counting Crows (i.e. the best band in the world ever; Rage Against the Machine, the best live band ever; and others) and drank Strongbow. The music festival was Friday through Sunday, and I’m almost certain we were the only Americans there. Brilliant, it was, really brilliant, a great time.

 

Most of the Scots were drunk, literally most. It was probably closer to two-thirds of the group. Not just tipsy, but absolutely intoxicated. The group numbered 80,000. So a pinch more than 50,000 people were completely drunk every day. It was hilarious at first, but as the weekend passed it wore on me.

 

As I walked to my computer, to start this post, from getting my iced vanilla latte, the screen saver popped up and the first picture that appeared was one from the trip to Scotland. The picture wasn’t of a band, or me, or even my dad; it was of an old couple, mid sixties probably, who had met and embraced my dad and I, noting that we were the only Americans. They were angels or something, really nice angels. They showed hospitality like no one else there had, not that the Scots weren’t hospitable, but that this couple went out of their way to get to know my dad. They smoked pot, but they had grace unlike most people I know, period. I felt warm in their presence, as if I were at the hearth of their home eating bread and drinking stout ale. I saw the picture on my computer screen (of the couple, cross-bone t-shirts and all) and I thought, I want that. They were happy, and they weren’t lonely. Of course they must fight and have problems (unless they were really angels like I supposed), but they were warm. They had a good air about them. Air that not many have.

 

We are very lonely, I think. Super lonely. That’s why marriage is so beautiful: it obviously doesn’t cure loneliness to a perfect degree, but it’s a beautiful picture of what Christ will be to us someday. Our husband, intimately warming us with His beauty and grace. Lavishing our souls for love’s sake. With Jesus we will be like the pot-smoking hippies from Scotland. Happy, not lonely, and gracious.

 

I know I try to be all deep and stuff, especially with my writing, but I think I’m overrated or something. I am reading a book called Brisingr right now, and it’s a fantasy book, the third in a cycle of four, about a dragon rider, Eragon, and his dragon, Saphira. I love fantasy. I love it so much. I feel so warm when I am consumed with a tale of loyalty, risk, friendship, love, and heroism. And the story really does consume me. I love it! This book is good, not great. The story is good and the writing is pretty good, but I love it so much. It’s not terribly deep but I love it like a fish loves water.

 

 I think the archetypal form of fantasy literature is Tolkien’s trilogy, The Lord of the Rings. Both Tolkien and Paolini (author of Brisingr) deal with the theme of loneliness. Frodo, the actual “Lord” of the rings, and the hero of the epic, would have died if it weren’t for his companion, Samwise. Frodo would have literally died of loneliness, consumed by himself and the evil in the ring. Eragon, similarly, feels the icy-cold grip of loneliness when he is parted from Saphira. Here is a beautiful quote from Brisingr. In this scene, Eragon and Saphira reunite after nearly a week of separation (oh, and it should be noted that Eragon and Saphira share minds, or consciousnesses):

 

“Like a flood of warm water, her consciousness rushed into him, even as his rushed into her. Eragon gasped and tripped and nearly fell. They enveloped each other within the folds of their thoughts, holding each other with an intimacy no physical embrace could replicate, allowing their identities to merge once again. Their greatest comfort was a simple one: they were no longer alone.”

 

I think that is beautiful, and a very accurate image of heaven. I cannot express to you how strongly I long to be in His presence, tripping as I run to His embrace, smiling and laughing as tears of joys stream down my face, knowing that, once and for all, I am no longer alone.

 

Here is the hope I hold to when the world is a dark cloud: I will be in Christ’s presence, in YHWH’s hold, in the Spirit’s motherly warmth. In that moment, all my desires will be quenched: loneliness (I will no longer feel the great chasm in my heart that I long to be filled); wonder (I won’t have to read Lord of the Rings or Brisingr to be consumed by story); purpose, intimacy, wholeness, whatever your, my desire may be, if we hold fast to Christ’s death and resurrection, God will quench it. We will exist in a state of pure and undefiled satisfaction. Perfect unity with our Lord and the rest of His followers.

Pot-smoking hippies, Eragon and Saphira, Frodo and Sam. How much greater is our intimacy with Christ! And not only with Christ, but YHWH Himself! And His Spirit! And all who believe! I cannot and perhaps should not dwell on this hope too much, for it excites my heart to the point of delusion.

But think, just think, and ponder this hope with me for one moment. A perfect city. A perfect God. A perfect eternity. That’s what you call hope. My heart trembles within my soul. 

Imago Dei and Apple-Eater

I sat in silence so I sit in silence, bombarded with colors: ads, pretzels, coffees, ice creams, beers, candies—the swirling colors of a purgatorial airport. Terminal D. I sat, then, untainted by the purity of a world absent of these colors. But I sit, now, living with what I have seen, heard, and witnessed. Brook Fraser says, of her visit to Africa, “Now that I have seen, I am responsible.” And that is what I found. I began the journey looking for purity, a self-cleansing, defying God’s jealous process of sanctification. I could make myself right. I could die on the cross: slit wrists ushering blood like wedding guests through my marriage to myself. But Brook is right. She is right. I ventured to the depths—the grandeur depths—of Africa, looking for purity (some escape from these wretched colors). But there was none to be found. The white man is corrupt. The black man is corrupt. Red, yellow, blue, green, I don’t care what color you are. You are messed up. And, even if you are a good person more than not, you aren’t fit to enter the presence of a holy and jealous God. Brook is right. My wrists weren’t slit—my mind was but it brought no cleansing blood—only more mud. Brook is right, though, isn’t she? I am not pure. Look what I have done: I am letting people die. By my complacency lives are lost. I don’t want to complain, and I don’t want to hear complaints: it’s my wrong—fault—the blood on my hands. Our hands. We all fell—with Adam and Eve. Do not, for one instant, think you are exempt. I bite the apple every day. And then you eat it too. You are a pig, an adulteress. You are a pig, my dear reader. And I am a murderer, a rapist, slobbering in the filth of the pit. The pit of the fall of us all. Brook is right, though. Now that I have seen, I am responsible, and I hold you, too, dear reader, responsible, but though I hold you responsible I do not condemn you, nor do I even condemn myself, for condemnation is not mine to dispense, but Another’s. Action that stems from fear or condemnation stands in the shadow of the power of action in response to love.

 

And that is where I am joyous, though weary. The dichotomy in my being: Imago Dei and apple-eater. I am torn: worship my Lord YHWH like I am built to or worship myself—I believe we only have two options. Suppose you argue: worship of family, sex, and food, whatever. I believe those are extensions of self, but no matter—what do I choose? Self or YHWH? The obvious choice is obvious, but we are corrupted deeper than we know. Slimy to the roots. Before Africa I worshipped self, and my motives for traveling to Africa were ultimately a form of self-sacrifice, me trying to be Jesus for God—but, thankfully I will never be, God is so beautiful that he used my apple-eating motives for Christ’s glory, His own glory, the Trinity’s revel. So: before: apple-eater. I was acting on behalf of myself (though, granted, not fully, my desire to go to Africa was not all corrupt, I daresay even mostly, but at the root: corruption). But now, and since then, a flame within my heart flickers, albeit in a continual wax and wane. But the flame, the Spirit of YHWH presumably, guides more of my love than ever. God is growing the flame, and He used Africa in a great way. To extend the metaphor: as lighter fluid on the flame of my heart.

 

My mind races back to June 2 daily—the beginning of an epic climaxing in confusion: I can’t die on the cross for myself, let alone anyone else. Thanks be to YHWH and His Spirit for sending His blood-dipped Son to my rescue. I stand in the continual process of sanctification.

 

Now, dear YHWH, grant me Your love and faithfulness, Your respite and Your compassion, so that I may have a burning flame. Lord YHWH grant me a love that wants to act in response to Your love: “We love, because He first loved us.”

 

Now, dear YHWH, grant my reader a knowledge of You and Your love for them. If they know You, I pray that they continue to pursue you. If they do not, I pray that You would touch them. 

Like a Ghost (White on White)

Thank ye, thank ye

 

Well, it’s come and gone, Thanksgiving has. Quickly, perhaps too quickly, I think. 

(I step out the front door like a ghost into the fog where no one notices the contrast of white on white . . . )

 

I’ve been home since Friday the 21 and have accomplished nothing. I have a paper due Tuesday but I have most of it done, so I’m not at all worried or anything. And it’s just a paper, anyway.

 

Thanksgiving is weird because, it seems to me, that we eat a lot and just are lazy and watch football. I have been so lazy this week. All I’ve done is play video games and watch TV, eat and sleep. I gave thanks at the dinner table, but not really any other time. I thanked God for the Counting Crows, and it’s not a joke I love the Counting Crows and would be in trouble without them. Now what?

 

I need to get back into the swing of things in Iowa. I miss my coffee shop and Drew the Barista who mixes the espresso in my iced vanilla latte ($4.08) for me. I miss the three or four books I was reading and having time to be productive with my laziness.

 

I feel fat, lazy, and worthless. Well, not worthless, but worthless to other people. In that I haven’t dispensed any grace to anybody in a while. I feel angst-ridden and cooped up. Trapped in a Thanksgiving birdcage or something.

 

A self-imposed forest of rusting iron.

 

But thanks be to God for the Spirit, who is guiding me to the lines on His face. 

Green Apple Sea

Today I had my first scuffle with (adamant) anti-creationists. How silly it all is. We were in rhetoric class, reading an article from the editorial Nature, which was talking about radical environmentalists and how they rely heavily on passion. Emotion, as the book says. The article compared the radical environmentalists to creationists in that they both (according to the article) rely on emotion rather than the ever-glorious “Scientific Method.” As I read the article, I noted how very pretentious it is, putting words in people’s mouths and beliefs in people’s hearts.

 

So, a really nice kid named (well, let’s just call him) Toby says, “I like how the author associates them with creationists, because they both rely on an emotional belief.”

 

Bob (again, not his real name), the most annoying kid in the class (and a McCain-Palin supporter I’d just like to throw in there) says, “Yeah, all of those have some deep-rooted belief in them.”

 

I say, “Well, since the Scientific Method relies on repeatable, observable experiments, isn’t the Big Bang or evolution just as much about faith as creationism?”

 

Bob says, “Well it’s about inductive reasoning.”

 

I say, “But that’s still not something you can experiment, observe, and repeat . . .”

 

Class ends. How silly!

Africa Revisited

Journal entries:

 

June 3rd: “Dear Lord, Please give me a foundation of wisdom and love as I mentally and emotionally prepare for Nigeria. I will be changed—I know that much.”

 

June 3rd: “I haven’t slept in a bed in three days, and plane sleep doesn’t really do the trick. This trip will be extremely tiring but I could be changed so much.

Dear Lord, thank you for getting me here, and the wonderful opportunity to serve others for You. I pray that You would change me. Amen.”

 

June 4th: “The air is crisp this morning, promising a day of renewal and change: rebirth in the breaking humility of brotherly human spirit, separated by eons of ocean and time before the fall . . . my whole life has culminated to this trip: to this journey into oblivion, it is here I will realize the power of God. Lord please change me for a lifetime and prepare/enlighten Your will for me . . . Amen.”

 

June 4th: “When people talk about Africa they talk about the jungles and lions and stuff. And the weird thing is that there actually are really sweet jungles and forests—etc . . . On our drive to Jos from Abuja we saw locals growing a certain kind of plant into a fence. There are lots of colors here, but I think I have only seen the reds—the blood of lost human life manifested in the conquest of the evil Europeans, who robbed the Africans of their culture forever.”

 

June 4th: “—visited land for women’s home—Gidan Bege, “House of Hope”—Blind Town, girl with open sores.”

 

June 4th: “Women’s home—that was the first thing we did the first morning. The poverty is simply amazing. Baba drove us along this ridiculously horrid rode to a plot of land that’s gonna be a home for women. We were standing around and a man in an orange shirt came up to us and asked us for money. He actually got on his knees when he was introducing himself. We prayed over the land and then we left.”

 

June 4th: “Wheel chair ministry—we drove straight from the women’s land to the wheel chair thing. Basically it was a group of men who built tricycles for disabled people and gave them out for free. The thing is that the ministry is run by a man who is disabled himself. He was strong, with a deep voice, he had weathered skin and bore a smile adorned with hardship, pain, and experience. His eyes seemed sad—his being was totally in service. It amazes me that in a country of such destitution people can give their full being into service and live. Live. To serve others.”

 

June 4th: “Gidan Bege—“House of Hope”—it’s a place for orphans, or actually street kids, and widows. We sat around in a circle and they (a few of the boys) gave us their testimonies. I sat in between Livinus (left) and Cilas (right). It was really sad. The boys who gave their testimonies were Moses, Samson, and Chinu? It was amazing. Moses’ story: his father was a drunk. His father came home every day and beat Moses and his mom every day. Then Moses’ mother got sick. And Moses’ father still beat her . . . then she died. Moses’ grandmother eventually got him to Gidan Bege. (—they love having their picture taken) Blind Town—Blind Town is basically the poorest are in Jos. Which is saying a lot considering how poor the city is. We (the men) got to meet the chief of the lepers and his wife. They had rooms the size of walk-in closets and they had stubs for hands and feet. Martha laughs after everything she says—good. Night.”

 

June 5th: At this point, my heart couldn’t feel, and my head couldn’t think. I couldn’t even write in my journals. At the end of each day I would scribble down what I did. I remember much of it, and my older blog entries (from July I believe) have much of what I experienced, but I will re-interpret my scribbles, now that it has almost been a year. “Things we did today:—drove from Jos to Makurdi (5 hrs)—knocked down a wall so the orphans don’t have to walk around the compound for water—went to the Makurdi Marketplace to get food, a sledgehammer, sodas—went to a Bad Boyz scrimmage.”

 

June 5th: The drive: It felt odd. Marque drove myself, Bumper, and Papa with Monday to Makurdi. We were the only three white people there—we arrived at the Makurdi Gidan Bege and were introduced to David, who ran the place, with his wife. There were 22 boys at the Makurdi Gidan Bege. David also had a soccer team: Bad Boyz. He did so much. We walked around the place and America seemed to vanish from my head. There were two parts of the orphanage: in one half lived David and his wife, in the other lived the boys and Sebastian, who was basically the house dad. He had five kids and his wife lived there, too. So: 22 Gidan Bege boys + 5 Sebastian’s children + 2 Sebastian and wife = 29 people. A wall separated the two halves, and the well (the only source for water) was on David’s side. So: 3 David, wife, their baby, had the water. And: 29 on the other side had to walk on the outside of the complex, around the outer wall, and into David’s side with a 5-gallon bucket and get water (and then they have to walk back with the full bucket). Then we went to the market place: as we drover the van through the jam-packed marketplace a Nigerian man said, “White man . . . (5 second pause as the van was stopped and the man looked at me through the open van window) . . . how are you?” After the marketplace we went to see the Bad Boyz  play a scrimmage, and that was a unique experience in Africa even. The players were amazing—better than anything I had ever seen. When they were done we got to meet them, and we took like 40 pictures. Felt like the red carpet. It didn’t feel right—they seemingly worshiped us for nothing. What had we done? Done: we lived spoiled American lives and came to their country with a Bible. I know spreading the gospel is good and all, but the interaction with the players was extremely wrong. Why were we worthy? They smiled and shook our hands and took pictures with their cell phones. Why?

 

June 6th: painting the church building with Bad Boyz players. Film at night—

 

June 7th: Dwight said: “It’s a tactic I like to call . . . diversion.”

 

June 8th: The last journal entry that wasn’t a list of things done: “The courtyard defined squalid. No longer was that word associated with photographs—reality has rudely intruded into the realm of meaning: a stray flip-flop, a skinny dog with right ear gnawed to the raw flesh, a pile of dirt and sand three feet high (laying inches from the well), and a gazebo screaming with the moans of a generator returning to Jos with us. The stillness of the air spelled an evil stagnancy, as the people lay robbed of their rights.”

 

June 9th: Luke said, of Obama, “He swore on the Quran to enter the Senate, does that not scare you?” For the record: no. not at all. In the morning we had to go to the immigration office, because something had happened when the three men were in Makurdi, so we went to the immigration office. Dwight was so scared. We answered questions from the immigration officer: who was on a huge power trip. He liked that the white people in front of him were at his mercy, literally. After that we went to EMS, a school for kids whose parents were missionaries (these were Nigerian kids whose Nigerian parents did local missions stuff.) I my journal I say, “EMS=joy (room w/ drum and dancing). Colors: I’m seeing colors besides red.” We went to a small room where the joyful children put on a small drama for us, song us songs, and danced. I also have written down, “Monday—now I feel.” In that room, the dancing room, I actually had feelings. No other part of the trip gave me feelings. Home and slept—

 

June 10th: “Hospital tour, lunch @ Ardill’s—soccer match @ Geiro (we lost 2-1) I broke my toe at the soccer match.

 

June 11th: “Spent 3 hours drawing shit in the morning—Gidan Bege for the last time—(Simon, Samson, Musa)—Bad Boyz (not the soccer team, but the poor area of town where all people do is drink)—went to pubs and handed out tracts to drunks: we need prayer, follow-up, and discipleship.” I could explain Bad Boyz, but I can’t. there is another entry on it. I am tired now this has made me tired

 

goodbye, hunter

 

ps, from june 19th, three days after being home from Nigeria: “reality: what’s real and what isn’t? reality: what matters and what doesn’t?”

 

 

War

I realize that I’m only 19 years old, and sometimes it probably seems ridiculous that I make some of the statements that I do, because how could I possibly have the knowledge or experience of one to talk about politics, spirituality, truth, or life? If your stance on my blog, in the past, has been one of skepticism or doubt, criticism or judgment, you might want to pass on reading this one, or perhaps you would like to pick a fight with me, I don’t know. But I am going to talk about war. Yeah, war.

 

First of all, I will say that I strongly believe God hates war. People often point to the Old Testament in saying what a just war is, in the manner that God used war, the amount of times He used war to accomplish His will, and such claims. Now, I think most of you might agree with this, that God hates war, and I think most of you will agree that war is an evil thing, and is only necessary because of the fall.

 

(I pause, briefly, because I realize we are in a battle against Satan, “Against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.” We are, as Paul says in Ephesians, in a war against Satan and his spiritual allies. Now, let us notice that we are not in a war against “flesh and blood,” as Paul states prior to the listing of what we actually are at war with.)

 

In Hosea, a beautiful book and story, God’s anger and love for Israel swings back and forth between punishment and redemption. In chapter 2, as God explains how He will restore Israel, He says, “I will abolish the bow, the sword, and war from the land, and will make them lie down in safety.” God’s plan for restoration does not, at all, include war. I think you know this, dear reader.

 

One: I do not agree with the so-called “War on Terror” we are waging in Iraq. (I think most of us have (hopefully) reached this point.) What are we fighting?

 

Two: I do not agree with the war in Afghanistan. After convincing from my smart friend in DC, I have come to oppose this war also, a war which many people still support/like, or whatever. I think that the search for bin Laden is just provoking our enemies in the Middle East and simply multiplying the problem. Here is an article that talks about the surge of al-Qaeda related groups: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=11173538 (It’s from NPR which rocks.)

 

Three: I am terrified, and would strongly oppose a war with or in Pakistan.

 

Four: I am flirting with pacifism.

 

Here are a few quotes from Letters from Abu Ghraib, by Josh Casteel:

 

“Freedom is not made by pipelines being bought in Afghanistan, nor by the major private corporations handling construction and oil distributions (Enron, Halliburton) who profit incredibly by the joint military venture/tax breaks set forth by the Bush Administration. Freedom is nor made behind closed doors with Saudi regimes (who espouse the very same Wahabist Sunni ideas as the terrorists) because we fear losing their input in the American economy (which is over 7%). My contention with George Bush is not one of believing him malevolent, but rather believing him unwise and guilty of maligning God’s freedom with mere political rhetoric.”

 

“Capital Hill has replaced the Vatican, and hospitals and political parties have replaced the Church as “new salvation,” granting “life” and “freedom” to those who follow their teaching. We don’t need the Eucharist, we have medicine. Democracy is now forced upon peoples like Christianity was during the Holy Roman Empire, in the “Christianizing” of civilization—now, we’re “Democratizing,” and instead of the Pope or an Emperor, we have the American President.”

 

“You can’t call [President Bush] “Pro-Life” . . . Campaigning in the name of Life and Family in circumstances such as these, to my mind, is simply unconscionable. And if I could sit down with the commander in chief right now, and talk things through, I too would simply say “shame on you, Mr. Bush.” How dare you take up the sword Peter was told to lay down, and use it in the name of a freedom which cannot be won by force . . . Where’s al-Qaeda? Where’s bin Laden? Where is the investigation into the nation from which all of the 9-11 hijackers were natural-born citizens (Saudi Arabia)?”

 

Point being: I am learning, and forming my opinions, and right now I strongly oppose every war we are in. I hate war. If you have ever been to a war-torn country, you hate war too. If you haven’t, go.

I was at Prairie Lights just a few nights ago and was hearing a guy read from his book, which is set in the Cold War and is basically a James bond knock-off. A host asked him questions, and at least four or five times he mentioned how cool it was to invent different ways of killing people. How cool it was. To invent ways of killing. This man, reading from his book, is a fully-grown man living in Iowa; he has an M.D. and is a fulltime doctor. I leaned back in my chair, searching for eyes as horrified as mine, but none came. Rather, instead of sickened eyes, I saw smiles, smirks and hungry grins. How cool, they thought. How cool.

What is with our obsession of violence? 

I Don't Want No Damn Religion

Jesus, this is why I love Jesus. Well, at least three quick ones.

 

ONE: Jesus is an environmentalist. Something bothers me about Republicans: for the most part, they seem like war-mongering oil tycoons who love rich people and don’t mind if the poor get stepped on like a worn, cobbled path. I know that’s probably not true but it’s the vibe I get. In Genesis 1:28, God charges man with a responsibility, “Fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds in the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”

 

It feels really good to us that God tells us to “subdue” the earth, because somehow we (being the egotistical bastards we are) take this and add it tour our damn power-trip selves. We think that, somehow, subduing the earth means destroying forests and brutally killing animals and raising chickens in little rectangular cages and cutting their beaks off and dipping baby pigs in boiling oil to get their hair off. Somehow we take it to mean dumping waste into the Gulf like you would dump bubble bath into your kid’s bathtub, or drilling for oil across the world—tearing the earth apart and literally tearing areas of the world apart because we drink oil like Michael Jordan drinks Gatorade.

 

As I read that charge in Genesis, I thought about what the word “rule” means exactly. And, clearly, it has monarchical implications. God rules over us; He is our Lord. Christ is the King—that sorta thing. So, when I hear God tell me to rule over the earth, it makes me think about how He rules over us—with love, gentleness, sacrifice, diligence, faithfulness, and humility. God’s ruling over us is so opposite of the ruling we have been doing over nature. Though Bush did create one of the biggest ocean reservations ever, so many areas of gotten worse: rivers have become more polluted, he backed out of the Kyoto Protocol, which is an initiative to prevent Global Warming. (And, no matter where you stand on the issue of Global Warming, I think we can agree that dumping a bunch of gases into the atmosphere isn’t a good thing.) He backed out of the Kyoto Protocol AFTER promising to reduce CO[-2] gases . . .so . . . that’s sorta backward, coming from a man claiming to know and love Christ.

 

When I hear God tell us to rule the earth, I would like to think we would rule it as He would rule it Himself. I love Jesus because He cares about the earth He created, and no matter how much we [EXPLITAVE] the earth up, He will come back and clean things up for us. Go green, Jesus did.

 

TWO: Jesus loves the poor. I have a big heart for the poor, and for homeless people. I think it’s because I went to Africa and God changed my heart there. But caring for the poor is something the church, as a whole, does a pretty poor job of doing. Say hi to my friend Joel Osteen in Houston, Texas. His church is gigantic and mega and like a world of its own, a world I, thank God, am not a part of. His world, Lakewood Church, meets in a stadium where the Houston Rockets used to meet. Each week there are about 40,000 people showing up because Joel says that it’s God’s will for you to be rich. It’s like the American Dream mixed with God: bad, bad, horrible, disgusting, appalling idea. It’s bullshit, really. He makes so much money at church and even more money from his ridiculously absurd “books.”

 

I read an article about Osteen and his humble family in People magazine a few months ago. It showed Osteen’s house (not absurdly huge, but bigger than 99% of people’s houses in the world) with a cream-colored Escalade out front. It was shiny. His church brings in about 1 million dollars a week, and even more from online donations. Over the course of the year Lakewood Church rakes in about 70 million dollars. Yeah, my mouth hung open a little too.

 

With all this money in the hands of someone who claims to love God you might expect better stewardship. But no, he hasn’t really started a homeless shelter or anything too grand. Just Escalades, trips to Colorado, flights with his wife pushing flight attendants, and Barbie houses.

 

Jesus, when He was in Nazareth, said, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He has anointed Me to preach the gospel to the poor.” Jesus literally came here for the poor, but the great part is it wasn’t only for the physically poor, but the poor in spirit.

 

Jesus loved the poor: “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

 

THREE: Not only does Jesus love the poor, but he loves the rich as well. Yes, he gets angry with them a lot, because they say one thing and do another, but the extraordinary thing is how anchored his anger is, how focused it is on love. He is angry because he loves these people but they just. don’t. get. it.

 

This is something that bothers me about Democrats (and myself): they, and I, complain about the rich-loving Republicans so much, how they don’t love the poor. The hypocritical thing is: it’s so hard, near impossible, for the Democrats to find love for the Republicans. They claim to love the poor so much, giving to them and slating the economy in their favor, but then they can’t bring themselves to love the Republicans. It’s sad, really. Because it creates a cycle of hate and ungrace.

 

Somehow Jesus found a way to love the poor and the rich, the hippies and the CEOs, the Democrats and the Republicans. Jesus doesn’t care where you were born, what color your skin is, how you vote, as long as you seek Him first.

 

Jesus wants us to be one, like He and the Father are one. But we are so split because we are split inside, in our hearts. That’s why this life sucks so badly sometimes. Because of the fall. We are so disenfranchised and fragmented. Jaded—

 

I really, really, am tired of religion. All of them. I just want Jesus. The church isn’t a building or a group of building, it’s a group of people who all love the same dude: Jesus Christ the Environmentalist who loves rich people and poor people and blue people and Republicans and Democrats, all of whom can’t love each other. God is love.

 

I want Jesus. I want Revelation 21:1-7.

 

All in good time.