I am here

I am here.

At the precipice of my thoughts
the top of my mind
or the bottom of my future

They precipitate around me
out of the air the form
first dust then pebbles
then boulders and mountains
falling with force on the un-firm ground

I am here.

The moment passes but the wreckage remains
I shovel the surface clean
packing it in cardboard boxes
padding it with packing peanuts
sealing it with clear tape
I place them in rows
on the edges of my mind
for the moment the cliff feels far
but the past moments linger

I am here.

The house may be swept clean
I may be strong for surviving
but even the strong man can be tied up
he can be overcome

the boxes begin to break
cardboard ins't thought tight
what seeps from the edges chases
follows pursues attacks
restrains me once again
back at the drop off

I am here.

At the precipice of my thoughts
the end of my mind
or a new beginning of my future

"... but in my opinion miracles will never confound a realist. It is not miracles that bring a realist to faith. A true realist, if he is not a believer, will always find in himself the strength and ability not to believe in miracles as well, and if a miracle stands before him as an irrefutable fact, he will sooner doubt his own senses than admit the fact. And even if he does admit it, he will admit it as a fact of nature that was previously unknown to him. In the realist, faith is not born from miracles, but miracles from faith. Once the realist comes to believe then, precisely because of his realism, he must also allow for miracles. The Apostle Thomas declared that he would not believe until he saw, and when he saw, he said: "my Lord and my God!" Was it the miracle that made him believe? Most likely not, but he believed first and foremost because he wished to believe, and maybe already fully believed in his secret heart even as he was saying: "I will not believe until I see."

- Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

Finishing Well:

Finishing well means leaving behind:
     1. The Gospel
     2. The Kingdom of God
     3. Praise and Worship

To finish well means to leave things conducive for these things to grow and continue.

To finish well means leaving these things in the hearts of the people and places we have touched.

To finish well means to leave no strings untied.

To finish well means to love how Jesus loves.

Easter 2013

Matthew 16:24-28 :

     "Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul? For the Son of Man is going to come in his Father’s glory with his angels, and then he will reward each person according to what they have done.

“Truly I tell you, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.""

Good news guys.

The tomb is still empty.

Jesus, the man, and Jesus our Lord was dead.

But now he’s not.

He suffered brutal asphyxiation, he was mocked and insulted by thousands, he cried tears of blood, he hung there naked, and seemingly helpless.

As he breathed his last painful breath, gasping for air, our sins, our fears, and our own death breathed their last too.

The tomb is still empty.

He is risen.

Our fears did not rise with him. They lie dead and condemned.

Jesus is alive. Now.

His reign has begun.

He has gone to the father for a little while, but he is coming back again!

We have not tasted death, but we have seen the Son of Man come into his kingdom.

So here it is. The first post in a long long time. I wanted to put a large chunk of an essay entitled "Belief" by Donald Miller from his book Blue Like Jazz, but I don't have time for that.

Instead, I encourage you to read it (or re-read it).

And now I leave you with 3 thoughts.

1. Mark Lasitter is a good roommate. He also loves my blog despite the fact that I don't have time to write any more.

2. I think that The Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31) is an extremely unique parable. Not only does it reference real people directly (Abraham) while just about all the other parables only get as specific as "Son" or "Bridegroom" or "Widow" or "King", it also feels very unique in storytelling and content. I'm not sure what to think of it as I read and ponder over it again. I wonder if this is where a lot of the imagery for Heaven and Hell that feels ingrained in our society comes from. I would bet this definitely played a major role, along with the other pieces of scripture where there is discussion of fire and burning for sins. I would also bet that wasn't Jesus's main goal in the parable...

3. Sneak Peak:
http://kellyandboyer.ourwedding.com


Happy Wednesday.

Lord, Let me be your servant. Use me as you choose. Put me to doing; put me to suffering. Let me be employed for you or be put aside for you. Let me be full; let me be empty. Let me have all things; let me have nothing. With a willing spirit I freely surrender everything I am and everything I have to your plan for me. I make this covenant with you, O Christ, with all my heart and soul. You are my Savior and Redeemer.

-Unknown

It feels as if the dream has died, and the time has come for me to face the facts and realize the truth of the matter.

I no longer see a perfect American future; a perfect wife, a perfect marriage, perfect kids, a perfect job, in the perfect suburbs, perfectly happy.

No this dream has died.

The weight of the world is too much.

The giants before me have toppled over without a crash or a fight; simply a sigh as they breathe their last and disappear. With their towering figures gone, their shadows are gone too and the light illuminates so much that I never saw before; the slippery slope of temptation and the terrifying reality that none are immune.

And while the light has fought forth and revealed what was hidden in the black, the darkness has attacked too, taking those who were once well and casting them naked into the sea of sickness, pain, and death. Or leading them willingly to the well of youth and nudging them to dive in head first, only for them to realize the living water never was there. The dry rock bottom breaks both necks and reputations.

It seems that at the dusking of my day of innocence the black is winning, claiming what used to surround me, by force, by trickery, or by recruitment. As the night and reality settle, fear rises up. Will I be the next statue toppled? Will I dive willingly to my death into a dry well? Will I run towards an oasis in this desert only to realize that the mirage is not matter but a cavity? Simply a deep ravine calling me to jump into the cool blackness, to give in to the world and rest in its simple shadows.

But as my eyes grow dry and the kaleidoscope from tears dissolves into pure sight, a single light is seen in the moon-less sky; a single star reminiscent of one long ago.

A thin dirt path, well traveled but walked poorly, with many footprints on all sides and only one set steady in the middle, grows visible in the single-star light. Dust rises from it as I start to walk, yet I shake it from my sandals at the night around me as I begin to run. Is this where life truly begins? Where Joy and Suffering dance a beautiful waltz down this same path, a dance heavy with sorrow, yet filled with hope, building suspense to a climatic finale, only for them to keep their hands clasped together as they bow at the curtain call. Their fingers are interlocked. A keen eye will notice a wedding band on the left hand of each. I see the weight ahead. I have felt the weight behind. I see the dance ahead and know the end of the dance has come before my beginning, but its echoes beckon me on. I see many mirages and lies that look like life in the light of the night.

I run. East. On the dirt. Towards the sunrise.

The son who rose yesterday has yet to fail me. He shines. And he will shine. He will return in the morning. I will be there.