The night was long, and I was ready for it to be over, so at the first hint of light, I got up, unzipped the door, and stepped out into a different world. What I saw was marvelous. Thick snow enveloped the ground, and disguised the trees as white pylons. I was taken aback; trying to grasp the beauty of it all before I dare embark onward into the continuously falling impenetrable snow. I listened in awe of the silence that was broken only as I stepped out into Narnia, to venture further up, and further in.
Shortly, off in the distance, I heard something more than just my footsteps. I froze where I was and let my ears scout out the sound. In the distance there was water, joyfully flowing down its path. I followed the sound and it brought me to a small, ice cold stream. I followed it merrily as it tumbled gently down towards its destination. The lake wasn’t much larger than a pond, only to say that it was deep. (I did not test out how deep it was.) The sky was as white as the snow on the ground, leaving the lake a beautifully dusty grey, calm yet continuously rippling with every entering snowflakes. I wandered a little further and found refuge under a majestic tree. There, I sat in the silence and watched, taking in the beauty, constantly seeing it deeper and grander than I had before. There was always more, and it took my breath away. It was always magnificent.
Serenity.
Tuesday 2 September 2008
Friday 16 May 2008
Don't worry, be happy
“The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.” (Zephaniah 3:17)
Wednesday 30 April 2008
For the lack
At work as staff we always do devotions. We haven't always, then we questioned if maybe our programs we not very God focused because our office time was not very God focused and we were not doing the devotions. But I took that further and thought my personal life should include more God time, and that I need to start my morning off I prayer (part of what is telling me I need to make time for God every morning, the other part in a priority thing, so I can remember God is the priority, and people too. Not stuff.) Maybe, I should leave for work early and then find somewhere on my walk to work to stop and talk to God and Bible read. See if the Bible is our daily bread, then going to work and not having Bible reading time is like going to work hungry, and it is hard to be as effective if one goes to work hungry... maybe it is hard to be as effective at work if I go without spending time with God first... or at least some time in the day. I find though sometimes the time seems empty, meaningless. Like I don't really learning anything, I don't get new inspiration, or if I do, I just forget it. And if I forget it, then did it ever really happen?
Monday 14 April 2008
so i wrote a rap today... oh random inspiration
Chew don’t look like you’re from the hood
Chew dinna look like bad playing good
Chew don’t got down the walk
Chew don’t even got no bad boy talk
Chew say your gansta
But come on,
Chew just don’t look it.
Chew don’t look tuff
Chew don’t look like chew’ve been playen’ ruff
Chew don’t look like you’ve been in a brawl
Ch’ain’t no police afta chew at all
Chew say your gansta
But come on,
Chew just don’t look it.
Chew look like a momma’s boy
Still crying for yah favourite toy
Chew say your gansta man
But come on,
Chew just don’t look it.
Chi’m more scared of dat puny dog
Than chew an chore friends
Chew call that a mob?
Come on boy,
Chew say your gansta man
But chew just don’t look it.
Chi could take chew out with just one smack to the lid
I say Chi could take chew out with just one smack to the lid
Chew say your gansta man
But come on, boy
Chew just don’t look it.
Chew dinna look like bad playing good
Chew don’t got down the walk
Chew don’t even got no bad boy talk
Chew say your gansta
But come on,
Chew just don’t look it.
Chew don’t look tuff
Chew don’t look like chew’ve been playen’ ruff
Chew don’t look like you’ve been in a brawl
Ch’ain’t no police afta chew at all
Chew say your gansta
But come on,
Chew just don’t look it.
Chew look like a momma’s boy
Still crying for yah favourite toy
Chew say your gansta man
But come on,
Chew just don’t look it.
Chi’m more scared of dat puny dog
Than chew an chore friends
Chew call that a mob?
Come on boy,
Chew say your gansta man
But chew just don’t look it.
Chi could take chew out with just one smack to the lid
I say Chi could take chew out with just one smack to the lid
Chew say your gansta man
But come on, boy
Chew just don’t look it.
well twas fun(ny)... if you ask nicely i could even rap it for you... but chew probably don't wanna hear that
Wednesday 12 March 2008
Is it I Lord?
He said he mightclock out soon
he was sick,
very sick he told me
but he didn’t want the bug
to kill him.
He tried to cough it out
he tried to sneeze it out.
There where a lot of
He tried to cough it out
he tried to sneeze it out.
There where a lot of
sick people there
And what he had
And what he had
wouldn’t go away.
He had tried everything;
Cough medicines,
Cold medicines,
Syrups and pills,
but it didn’t work,
so he said he might clock out.
The clock there was dead.
Someone in anger must have ripped it off the wall.
They had scrunched the hands,
and left it on the table.
Left it to find someone who,
could feel the pain
He had tried everything;
Cough medicines,
Cold medicines,
Syrups and pills,
but it didn’t work,
so he said he might clock out.
The clock there was dead.
Someone in anger must have ripped it off the wall.
They had scrunched the hands,
and left it on the table.
Left it to find someone who,
could feel the pain
that they felt inside.
Would something be done?
These were people here;
People.
Not Animals.
They were not to be picked up and squished in a van.
If they were dogs,
Animal Rights would have gotten mad,
but they are people.
Oppressed,
Dignity stolen.
Who will stand up for them?
Who will shout out?
Who will yell?
Someone has to talk for them.
They could talk for them selves,
but who would listen?
Who wants to hear from the ones they crushed?
We don’t want for those we stepped on,
to stand up.
We want them to be forgotten
Unheard
forgotten
Unheard
Unseen.
LONG ENOUGH
Its been long enough.
The time is now;
before the clock goes out,
before more clocks get broken.
Its been long enough.
The time is now.
Time for someone to stand up.
Time for someone to shout out.
Are we ready to listen?
Its time.
Ready or not.
Would something be done?
These were people here;
People.
Not Animals.
They were not to be picked up and squished in a van.
If they were dogs,
Animal Rights would have gotten mad,
but they are people.
Oppressed,
Dignity stolen.
Who will stand up for them?
Who will shout out?
Who will yell?
Someone has to talk for them.
They could talk for them selves,
but who would listen?
Who wants to hear from the ones they crushed?
We don’t want for those we stepped on,
to stand up.
We want them to be forgotten
Unheard
forgotten
Unheard
Unseen.
LONG ENOUGH
Its been long enough.
The time is now;
before the clock goes out,
before more clocks get broken.
Its been long enough.
The time is now.
Time for someone to stand up.
Time for someone to shout out.
Are we ready to listen?
Its time.
Ready or not.
Sunday 24 February 2008
For she who has been forgiven much, loves much.
Ever since she moved into my house, I started to pray for her differently. It became rare that I would pray for her salvation, or healing, instead I spent my time crying out to God to give me patience; give me love. I never really like going on walks with her, at time she would try to hold my hand, or take my arm, and I just found it more than awkward.
Walking was worse in the winter. I could side across the ice with no problem. But that frightened her, it took her much time to walk down the side walk. I didn’t like always being told to slow down; ordered not to slide. I was doing okay.
This morning started before the walk to church. I was in my room, reading the Bible when she came in interrupting. I answered her questions quickly, just hoping she would leave. And she would leave, and come back too. She could tell I was being short with her. She didn’t like it. As she left I had to question what had I done. There I was, putting my alone time, this ritual up as a blockade. I made it more important than the second greatest commandment, Love people.
Maybe walking to Church was a bad idea. Anyhow, the whole way there I was dreading it. I didn’t like her coming to Church with me. Often times she would go with my mom or my sister, but my mom was working, and my sister out of town. I remembered the times before, having her at church, trying to distance my self from her, mostly from her touch. But I was struck by the familiarity of it all, confronted by something not only which I read, but that I wrote In a fictional story “I hate it, I hate how the church is today. I wish it could be a place where people might go and really feel God's presence, and feel loved. I wish it were a place of selfless people first there to serve God, then others. I wish God was real to the people at church… I'm sorry, I shouldn't of done that this morning, I mean... it was stupid of me. I knew it was what they were thinking… can't believe I did that.” and “No, God wasn't at church! Even you became less caring there, and more concerned about what others were thinking.” And I believe that must be how she felt coming to church with me those days.
I wish I could say today was better, different from those times in the past, but it wasn’t. If anything it was worse, I was aware that being in Church was maybe, if anything a reason to be more caring, and most definitely not less. I was aware I didn’t need to care about what others thought. I had read the story of becoming less caring at Church, and I certainly didn’t want anything to do with that. Yet I hate being told what to do. I didn’t stand during worship, and when she told me to stand I wanted to so much less. I sat struggling with this idea of love, and just wanting it to be easy. She would place he hand on my arm, or my leg, and I would sit uncomfortably until I could take it no longer. I had to move. I would search for a reason, like taking off my coat, but I could only take off my coat once. I struggled with this, not even knowing why it bothered me so much. But it angered me, tore me to pieces; kept me on the verge of tears. Then, when I did decide to stand, placing my hands on the pew in front of me, it was only moments before her hand was on mine. I tried to be okay with it, acting like nothing happened. But I hated it, I couldn’t stand it. I removed my hand, and though she tried to hold it I refused. I sat back down, trying to get as far away from her as possible. When I got home I wrote but four short lines in my journal. “God I failed at church… why is that? When reading my Bible, while at Church, I have no patience for her, no allotment for her awkwardness.” I wasn’t sure of what allotment meant, but it was the best word I could come up with. I asked for God’s forgiveness, I had failed indeed. Then I read the end of the story I had written; the part with the trip to church, the climax, the conclusion. But I started far enough before that, so I was distracted my mind put to ease rather than sent on a guilt trip.
We all make mistakes. We are all called to grace, and I am thankful for that grace. Tonight I went to another church. Before communion this was read: “My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have one who speaks to the Father in our defense—Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.” I was so happy for this grace so thankful for what God had done so ready to partake in communion. I was so aware of my short comings that I was so ready to accept the help, to accept grace. I just can’t make it on my own.
Walking was worse in the winter. I could side across the ice with no problem. But that frightened her, it took her much time to walk down the side walk. I didn’t like always being told to slow down; ordered not to slide. I was doing okay.
This morning started before the walk to church. I was in my room, reading the Bible when she came in interrupting. I answered her questions quickly, just hoping she would leave. And she would leave, and come back too. She could tell I was being short with her. She didn’t like it. As she left I had to question what had I done. There I was, putting my alone time, this ritual up as a blockade. I made it more important than the second greatest commandment, Love people.
Maybe walking to Church was a bad idea. Anyhow, the whole way there I was dreading it. I didn’t like her coming to Church with me. Often times she would go with my mom or my sister, but my mom was working, and my sister out of town. I remembered the times before, having her at church, trying to distance my self from her, mostly from her touch. But I was struck by the familiarity of it all, confronted by something not only which I read, but that I wrote In a fictional story “I hate it, I hate how the church is today. I wish it could be a place where people might go and really feel God's presence, and feel loved. I wish it were a place of selfless people first there to serve God, then others. I wish God was real to the people at church… I'm sorry, I shouldn't of done that this morning, I mean... it was stupid of me. I knew it was what they were thinking… can't believe I did that.” and “No, God wasn't at church! Even you became less caring there, and more concerned about what others were thinking.” And I believe that must be how she felt coming to church with me those days.
I wish I could say today was better, different from those times in the past, but it wasn’t. If anything it was worse, I was aware that being in Church was maybe, if anything a reason to be more caring, and most definitely not less. I was aware I didn’t need to care about what others thought. I had read the story of becoming less caring at Church, and I certainly didn’t want anything to do with that. Yet I hate being told what to do. I didn’t stand during worship, and when she told me to stand I wanted to so much less. I sat struggling with this idea of love, and just wanting it to be easy. She would place he hand on my arm, or my leg, and I would sit uncomfortably until I could take it no longer. I had to move. I would search for a reason, like taking off my coat, but I could only take off my coat once. I struggled with this, not even knowing why it bothered me so much. But it angered me, tore me to pieces; kept me on the verge of tears. Then, when I did decide to stand, placing my hands on the pew in front of me, it was only moments before her hand was on mine. I tried to be okay with it, acting like nothing happened. But I hated it, I couldn’t stand it. I removed my hand, and though she tried to hold it I refused. I sat back down, trying to get as far away from her as possible. When I got home I wrote but four short lines in my journal. “God I failed at church… why is that? When reading my Bible, while at Church, I have no patience for her, no allotment for her awkwardness.” I wasn’t sure of what allotment meant, but it was the best word I could come up with. I asked for God’s forgiveness, I had failed indeed. Then I read the end of the story I had written; the part with the trip to church, the climax, the conclusion. But I started far enough before that, so I was distracted my mind put to ease rather than sent on a guilt trip.
We all make mistakes. We are all called to grace, and I am thankful for that grace. Tonight I went to another church. Before communion this was read: “My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have one who speaks to the Father in our defense—Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.” I was so happy for this grace so thankful for what God had done so ready to partake in communion. I was so aware of my short comings that I was so ready to accept the help, to accept grace. I just can’t make it on my own.
Friday 8 February 2008
Restoration, Restitution.
"You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." ~Jesus
Tuesday 15 January 2008
Anything Right - P.O.D.
So much to say so little time for me to explain the way I feel You only see things the way you want to see them It makes sense to you all these things you do You got it all figured out while everyone is confused
How do you do it? In your mind I'm just blind You're right all of the time If I think for myself, I guess I'm way out of line I'm not who you are I'm so sorry
(Chorus:)I can't do anything right You don't know me, stay out of my life Kick me while I'm down, I want you to I can't be like you Don't want to be like you
No matter what I do it's never good enough I give all that is me; still it's never enough So, why try? I give up. What does it feel like to be in you shoes And walk over everyone like you do? Tear me down again, I want you to.
How do you do it? In your mind I'm just blind You're right all of the time If I think for myself, I guess I'm way out of line I'm not who you are I'm so sorry
(Chorus:)I can't do anything right You don't know me, stay out of my life Kick me while I'm down, I want you to I can't be like you Don't want to be like you
No matter what I do it's never good enough I give all that is me; still it's never enough So, why try? I give up. What does it feel like to be in you shoes And walk over everyone like you do? Tear me down again, I want you to.
Friday 4 January 2008
I Got a Secret... I am Afraid
-I am afraid of dogs, of being bitten, chased and being chased and then bitten (or being bitten and then chased)
-I am afraid of failure, of giving my, trying hard with no results – so I am afraid of of trying, because then I might fail and have no excuse
-I am afraid of living some boring mediocre life because I am afraid to do what God has called me to do.
-I am afraid of being wrong
-I am afraid of so passionately living my dream and making a youth hang out place, and then have no one come
-I am afraid of being rich, of having too much and not wisely spending it
-I am afraid of misrepresenting God
-I am afraid of being open, especially with my passion, because what if others just don’t understand
-I am afraid of being corrected, but I am learning it can be okay
-I am afraid of planning, or being to certain about something, and then having those plans fall through
-I am afraid of not being loved, and being alone, having no one who will understand my passion, no one to encourage me. I am afraid of being the only one who cares about God’s word and the only one with passion for it. I am afraid of not having anyone with whom to share my story, my stories and myself.
-I am afraid of being insignificant
-I am afraid of only talking and never doing, and I am afraid of writing so much that I forget how to be open in real words.
-I am afraid of becoming self reliant and too often forgetting to pray.
-I am afraid of asking for too much, and taking to much, and not giving enough
-I am afraid I will misspend my money and misuse my time
-I am afraid of loosing hope
-I am afraid of being content with my Christian life, afraid I will not continue to want to know God more, and not want to pray more
-I am afraid of commitment
-I am afraid I will learn all about God without ever knowing him personally
-I am afraid of falling in love with this world
-I am afraid no one shares my values
-I am afraid I have failed
-I am afraid to share the Gospel, and more so afraid I will not share it
-I am afraid none of this is real, that my words are fake and my faith is incomplete
-I am afraid of meaningless talk and deep conversation
-I am afraid I talk too much when it doesn’t mater, and not enough when it does.
-I am afraid I am too afraid to accomplish anything
-I am afraid to drive
-I am afraid of other’s disappointment
-I am afraid to bring bad news
-I am afraid of awkward conversations
-I am afraid that my uncoolness will keep me from accomplishing anything, afraid that I rely too much on weather or not I think people like me to actually just do what I got to do. I am afraid I am too worried about what others think of me
-I am afraid of being hated
-I am afraid I am incapable of doing what I dream
-I am afraid my dream is foolish and not what God wants, but I also fear thinking that if it is not true.
-I am afraid I am too easily convinced
-I am afraid of not following my words with actions
-I am afraid I don’t pray enough
-I am afraid God won’t answer my prayers
-I am afraid of being too prideful
-I am afraid of ridicule
-I am afraid of being relied on
-I am afraid of failure, of giving my, trying hard with no results – so I am afraid of of trying, because then I might fail and have no excuse
-I am afraid of living some boring mediocre life because I am afraid to do what God has called me to do.
-I am afraid of being wrong
-I am afraid of so passionately living my dream and making a youth hang out place, and then have no one come
-I am afraid of being rich, of having too much and not wisely spending it
-I am afraid of misrepresenting God
-I am afraid of being open, especially with my passion, because what if others just don’t understand
-I am afraid of being corrected, but I am learning it can be okay
-I am afraid of planning, or being to certain about something, and then having those plans fall through
-I am afraid of not being loved, and being alone, having no one who will understand my passion, no one to encourage me. I am afraid of being the only one who cares about God’s word and the only one with passion for it. I am afraid of not having anyone with whom to share my story, my stories and myself.
-I am afraid of being insignificant
-I am afraid of only talking and never doing, and I am afraid of writing so much that I forget how to be open in real words.
-I am afraid of becoming self reliant and too often forgetting to pray.
-I am afraid of asking for too much, and taking to much, and not giving enough
-I am afraid I will misspend my money and misuse my time
-I am afraid of loosing hope
-I am afraid of being content with my Christian life, afraid I will not continue to want to know God more, and not want to pray more
-I am afraid of commitment
-I am afraid I will learn all about God without ever knowing him personally
-I am afraid of falling in love with this world
-I am afraid no one shares my values
-I am afraid I have failed
-I am afraid to share the Gospel, and more so afraid I will not share it
-I am afraid none of this is real, that my words are fake and my faith is incomplete
-I am afraid of meaningless talk and deep conversation
-I am afraid I talk too much when it doesn’t mater, and not enough when it does.
-I am afraid I am too afraid to accomplish anything
-I am afraid to drive
-I am afraid of other’s disappointment
-I am afraid to bring bad news
-I am afraid of awkward conversations
-I am afraid that my uncoolness will keep me from accomplishing anything, afraid that I rely too much on weather or not I think people like me to actually just do what I got to do. I am afraid I am too worried about what others think of me
-I am afraid of being hated
-I am afraid I am incapable of doing what I dream
-I am afraid my dream is foolish and not what God wants, but I also fear thinking that if it is not true.
-I am afraid I am too easily convinced
-I am afraid of not following my words with actions
-I am afraid I don’t pray enough
-I am afraid God won’t answer my prayers
-I am afraid of being too prideful
-I am afraid of ridicule
-I am afraid of being relied on
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