Hemp Bracelet

I have been wearing this bracelet since January 13, 2008. It was originally a gift from someone who, at the time, was a good friend. While I did not really appreciate it when I first received it, at least not beyond the merit of a gift from this person I cared about. I would never have anticipated the worth it has to me now.

Why, one may ask, does this probably no more than five dollar piece of woven hemp have such value, especially when you are no long friends with the person who gave it? To tell the truth, I do not rightly know why it means so much to me.

At the time it was given, and for a good while thereafter, I really cared for the person who gave it to me. The affection I bestowed upon her was, for at least a while, one of the first times I was genuinely and unselfishly affectionate toward someone. But the significance of this bracelet goes beyond just how much I cared for her.

You see, after a while, my genuine, unselfish affection became not so genuine and selfless. It is amazing how a simple holding of hands or snuggle session can radically alter the dynamics of a relationship. At this point in our not so happy tale is where I am quite ashamed of the way I acted toward this once good friend of mine.

We had a 'falling out' of sorts, and went from talking nearly every day on the phone, writing letters nearly every week, poking each other on Facebook at nearly every opportunity, to a complete lack of interaction. Absolute silence between us. Again, my blame in this matter would be difficult to overstate.

The proverbial nail in the coffin occurred when an action of mine that will go unmentioned here had the understandable affect of deeply hurting this young woman for whom I cared so much at one time.

Approximately a month and a half later, I was very frustrated with the silence between us. I was downright pissed about it. It was about this point that I was perusing through the letters and gifts I had received from her, when I came upon this bracelet. I wore it once or twice, almost in spite, to show that my attitude was the better of the two.

I wore it for a week or so, nonchalantly. Then, on January 13th, while in the shower, where I used to do a lot of my thinking, it struck me that God called me to love everyone, regardless of their actions toward me. I realized that not only had I failed to really love her in the month leading up to our falling out, but I had also ceased to love her since then.

It was at that point that I put on the bracelet, with the intent to not take it off, as a remind that I am called to love everyone, in spite of their hate, failings, annoyingness, personality flaws, bad jokes, stupid opinions and even unresponsiveness to me.

I wear it all the time, in the shower, in the rain, to church, to class, playing sports, whatever I am doing. It has not left my body since January 13th, 2008. While it does not always serve its purpose of reminding me to love others at all times, and sometimes it does, I just don't, I will continue to wear it with the hope that there is hope for a person like me to learn to love.

That is why I wear my hemp bracelet all the time.

I Like To Swim

"The mathematician goes mad, not the poet, because the mathematician tries to build a bridge across the infinite when the poet can swim in the sea."
--Donald Miller

I will almost definitely be revisiting this quote.

Life and Death Situations

Tonight at youth group we started a new series with the middle school kids, titled "Mirage." It's all about how a lot of times in the world, things are often deceptive, especially in the area of sin. There's four messages, and tonight's was "Sometimes Death Looks Like Life."

While I think that poetically (and artistically) speaking, the ideas of death and life are used incredibly often, and rightly so, because they are two major components of human existence. However, to sound out in the din of the messages about death and life, you must say something either bound in truth, or discordant with the rest of the messages.

Christianity is one place where the message given about life and death is both discordant with the world and bound poignantly in truth.

Now, I would like to remark upon the frequency that, in this world, death very often does look like life. Satan's name of 'deceiver' is no misnomer. He has effectively masqueraded many death-causing circumstances, occurrences, activities, etc., to look as if they are actually the path to life. (Just to note, when I speak of 'death,' the concept I am referring to is not only the literal death or end of life, but also the participation in sin in this world, which, in effect, 'kills' a believer's soul)

If you are unsure that such a concept is true, let me enlist an example:

Lust, specifically sexual lust, has as its goal the temporary satisfaction in a person, something that can be thought to bring life. The bestowing/reception of affection from someone is 'life-awakening,' as is the simple satisfaction in them. One could even make the point that if a child was to come of it, life was born of the original desire.

However, outside of marriage, this lustful desire for someone leads only to death. How many relationships and even marriages have been destroyed when people give themselves over to their desires, lured into the promise of life that the lust gives?

And so I urge you, and hope that you will urge me to not fall into the trap that has been set. I am one of the chiefest offenders in this area, too many times have I followed my flesh into a fallen promise. Do not so follow!

I hope to delve into this idea more fully in the future, and with the ongoing series at youth group, I'll hopefully remember to. For now, I'll leave you with a quote from Jonathan Edwards:

"So there is nothing here below by which we can attain to happiness, though there be many of the high and great things of the world that seem to others that don't enjoy them as though a happiness was to be reached by them. Yet those that have experience find happiness as far from them as from those that are in a lower state of life."
[From Images of Divine Things]

Idolatry, A Practiced Art

A lot of my life of late has been spent dealing with a relative "spiritual depression" that I had been experiencing for a while. To a certain extent, I am still dealing with it, but I can see the proverbial light at the proverbial end of the proverbial tunnel, to be proverbial. Recent events, dealings, readings and other sundry circumstances have assisted me in this emergence from the darkness.

After a long period of surmising, contemplating and failing, I realized that a great deal of my depression and lack of sentiment for the Lord was my consistent and repeated idolatry. I know that we've heard many a time that "Idols are not just those statues they worshiped back in the day in Canaan, you know!" but I do not think that we have truly comprehended this, or attempted to examine are lives with this in mine. At least, I had not for a long period of time.

Well, I am sad to admit that my heart is, as John Calvin stated, “a factory of idols…everyone of us is, from his mother’s womb, is an expert in inventing idols.” Well in my heart's factory, our specialty idol to is godly young women.

That's right, I said godly. I have the unfortunate ability to turn nearly every sister in Christ into a dating option. A select few have gone beyond this, to the point where I looked to them for my satisfaction instead of God.

It took me a while to realize that this idolatry has pretty much characterized the past year of my life. I have repeatedly pursued several different females, or at least "had feelings" for them, which was in fact my form of worship of them. My campus minster gave a great message on idolatry based out of Hosea, I'd encourage you to check it out, it basically expounds on what I'm trying to get across here.

Well, it has been a difficult process to tear down these idols. It has been a slow process, a tiring one, a frustrating one, for sure. Just about every time I think I've torn down one of these females as an idol, my heart begins to entertain the thought and affections of another.

Sometimes I want to literally slap myself in the face when my thoughts incline to a new girl, and I wish I could just blot out the entirety of the female gender as options for relationships. I have really had to seek God in this to figure out how to fix this aspect of my walk.

To conclude, I have had some recent epiphanies and discoveries in this area, and I will be sharing them in this venue, instead of the previously preferable Facebook. I'd love to hear feedback on them.

Sprinkles On The Asphalt

I wrote this one about camp, for camp. I love it, a lot. If you want to know what camp is all about, this is definitely a good place to start.

This also ends the period of my semi-apprenticeship in poetry, after this point is where I really began to dig into what it means to write a good poem, and to be a poet.

"Sprinkles On The Asphalt"

Not one second less than four-teen hours ago, this pavement was bare!

Where O where did all these sprinkles on the asphalt come from?

That question can be answered only by what happened a few seconds less than four-teen hours ago:

One hundred-fifty-plus excited little tweens and teens came screaming up the road:

Whoa they're sure excited about a bunch of silly games and a pointless competition-cheering-high-

low-volume-stick-cutoff-yarn-around-the-wrist-is-our-alliance created only to ensure fun was had the past six days.

Unhindered by such silly thoughts they fly up the the pavement to get their reward for all their hard work those six silly days:

A bowl, Styrofoam, containing two small scoops of plain old vanilla ice cream.

But plain it remains not for long as this throng of excited little tweens and teens begins to decorate and consecrate their reward with all types of ice cream toppings:

Reese's some prefer, or there were also a lot of Maraschino cherries tossed on,
But one topping was thrown on nearly every bowl: sprinkles.

And as one might expect a herd of one-hundred-fifty-plus excited little tweens and teens to do, the sprinkles are inevitably flung and trampled upon the asphalt.

The irony of this situation is...that in just a few seconds later than four-teen hours from the flinging of the sprinkles (and the subsequent trampling of the same),

All the physical proof that will remain to indicate their pure unadulterated excitement and the experiences of the week will be just that:

sprinkles on the asphalt.

All that their counselor--friends invested in them this week, you may seek to find physical proof of, but you will find naught but sprinkles on the asphalt.

The marks their God-creator-lover-friend put on their heart are far from the view of any physical-viewing-device,

Eyes cannot witness or describe the work their Father in heaven has begun in them those six silly days at camp.

Only in the ways they go home to show this work by their works can one work to see the work their good God has begun in them.

Of all the things they have been shown, how God has made himself known by his deeds and his great love, no eye can see and no ear can hear.

So if you're seeking here to see what was done this week, then venture elsewhere you must because the only empirical evidence of this week left here at camp,

is Sprinkles on the asphalt.

A Matter of Consequence

I would be a fool if I said that circumstances do not inspire poetry. I really like this one, even though it is by far not my best.

"A Matter of Consequence"

To be with you is my desire—
This fire burns within my being.
Seeing you each time does turn,
Inclines my heart to be with you.
To hold, embrace—to kiss your face
Is what the lust inside me says.
Ways together we might be,
I could see, but not condone.
Low am I in mind and spirit
As passion-fire does fill my veins.
In vain I seek to fight my flesh,
But all my best is brought to naught!
I want to love my God, my Father!
But rather would my body be
With you, my object of desire.
Indeed I am already walking
Down the path that leads to "us."
Thus you find me struck asunder,
Under the weight of what is "we,"
And what I know is all undone!
Cannot I find a path in middle,
To pursue you and God at once?
Break me God! I cry to heaven,
And bend my heart to do you will!
Yet will I cry when you and I,
Must separate and wait 'till when?

Singularity

One of my first real solid poems...I worked on it for a long daggum time, too. I am a huge fan of breaking the norm. But I can't just say 'BE UNIQUE' because everyone is just different enough from everyone else to be technically 'unique.' There are a select few, however, that are singular, above and beyond the moderate uniqueness everyone else has achieved.

I like to think I am or at least strive to be amongst their ranks. On a side note, I advise against being different just for the sake of singularity, though...when choosing to diverge, I would urge you to be purposeful and skillful in doing so.

"Singularity"

The singular soul, who not converging, controls,
Holds in hand what is to be commended.
For those who chose (and don't diverge)
The normal course of course don't live,
Except to sleep in waking hours,
Covert in bowers of comfort hidden,
Content to cling to what's beloved,
With unbidden acts to act as if free.
To claim the name of freedom true
And do nothing other than other's firsts?
True liberty 'tis to be and see
And call from beyond man's great fall,
To fight the forces of fleshly faults.
This freedom bold of old beloved,
Now looked upon with rancor strong.
Instead to stand amongst the others
Of similar fate masses fated are.
This doom--rare worse--to not disperse
And remain chained in self-crafted irons.
'Tis doom to not disperse; To be
Unique and not depart is art.
For art in every heart is found
And when unbound is full-fledged life.
Consistent life safety provides,
Divides the soul and mind in strife.
Yet one of man's high ends exists:
To scatter as skilled as do branches from tree,
Into their own air pairèd still with the trunk.

The Fifth

It's very simplistic, but better than a lot of stuff out there, and the meter/rhyme is pretty daggum good. Again, from high school. I can definitely see a correlation to "A Lesser Grief," which I will be posting in not too long.

The Fifth

I gaze at her each passing day
And wonder at what I should say.
To tell her what she means to me?
To tell her what in her I see?
To do so would reveal to much,
Few are the brave who would do such.
Simply one statement could disclose,
My feelings then it would expose.
To scrutiny public, before all,
Without anyone on whom to call.
Unless of course the feelings shared
(Could it be that indeed she cared?)
Would lead us both together pleased
Reputation safe from being seized?
If only assured my path could be,
And known it were she would agree.
With confidence approach I would and say:
"It's you who brings light to each day."
Alas, such knowledge still goes pursued,
As I remain here, sadly subdued.

Adverbs Are Now Nouns

Post high school, but early college. I hope to extend it and develop it more at a later date.



The beauty she is,
of now and of future,
Burns forever my heart
Through the end to begin,
And right on straight through because.

The feelings I bear,
Of now and of future?
Melt forever my mind
From final to first.
And distract to continue control.

Her glances and ways,
Of now and forever,
Hold in hand my attention
To conclude from beginning
And forever encrypting the how.

Eve's Purpose Complete

Wrote this back in high school about a specific girl. She was pretty and she was godly, which is why it never worked out, because I wasn't

"Eve's Purpose Complete"

"She walks in beauty" as Byron said,
And golden locks flow from her head.
Her eyes twin perfect sapphires be,
I view each time they turn towards me.
Her smile—striking—and often there,
Revealing true and honest care
For every other but herself.
Her faith she values above all else,
An occurance strange in modern days:
Christ's love performed in all her ways.
No hate she feels for race or creed,
Though for salvation she sees the need.
Regarding relations; she remains pure
For the mate she knows God will procure.
Perfect in nearly every way
Though that never would she say.
The completion of what was meant for Eve,
So close and yet removed from me.

Title & Intentions

I am struggling with what to title this blog. When I first decided to create it, Let Us Love and Sing and Wonder, the title of the famed him, immediately lept to my mind as an excellent title. As a begun to think about it more, a few other choices came up:

• Except You Enthrall Me, Never Shall Be Free--a line from John Donne's 14th Holy Sonnet.
• Everything Which Is Infinite [or Yes]--taken from e. e. cummings' poem "i thank You God for most this amazing day." There's some other good lines from that poem I was considering too.
  
• Life is not a Paragraph--from another of e. e. cummings' poems: "since feeling is first."

Each of these, along with Let Us Love and Sing and Wonder, and several other Biblical references, quotes, and other phrases have been toying with my mind, each saying "Pick me! Pick me!" I am quite unsure of which direction to go.

I feel as though a good way to begin undertaking a blog would be to go back and transfer some old posts from Facebook? Especially since I am looking to get off of their, I could just transfer everything over to this...I think I'm at least going to go back and put a bunch of my old poems on here....well, I've already begun doing that.

More Old Poems

Just some old poems that I wrote a long daggum time ago. The first one I wrote in 2006, then revised and 'released' in 2007; the second I wrote my first summer working at TVR, while, coincidentally, running the archery range. It's short, but I like it.

"The Prodigal's Argue"

Isn't this great?
You start by stabbing my stand,
You tell me I'm wrong,
That what I'm living's a lie,
Isn't the truth.
I battled that point,
But hey, can I live with
You believing that, but:
Second, you start
preaching me,
teaching me,
telling me,
all
about this belief.
But wait. Oh no.
Don't begin to berate
or instruct me in what
I know to be true
and lovingly live.
Don't flaunt all that's false
you claim of my faith.
This is mine [not alone].
Abandoment I accept,
[on your part] abandon it,
I can live with that, can I?
But don't even begin to tell me
about it, as if. You care?
Not that [I]t won't
welcome you back, brother lost.
but until then,
you, are interloping,
Trying to tell what
You still fail to grasp.
You're illegit,
Don't argue the kingdom,
How it works and is run;
Don't attempt to explain
That which you disdain.

"My Life: The Arrow"

O Lord, if my life
Be akin to an arrow,
Then I ask that its archer be you.

For with you as my
Marksman, my flight will be far
And the sin of my shot shall be none.

For what better a
Life than one led by the Lord?
And what truer a
Target than one guided by God?

Redemption Poem

Old old old....like, mid-2007 old. Yeah.

"Redemption Poem"

O Lord, how great Thou art,
You see into my heart,
And love me still the same,
Despite what You should blame.

My sin your son did slay,
And still does to this day!
Weak and fallen, without excuse,
Still You forgive my every abuse.

Even still my heart does fail,
And forgets whom it should hail.
Whenever I might roam,
Still You bring me home.

Now wrapped in Thy great love,
And grace sent from above,
It is well with my soul,
My broken life made whole.

The First of Many

In the general direction of the venture that I will be eventually getting off of Facebook, I have taken it upon myself to start this blog. This is the first. There will be more to come. You'll like the way they look, I guarantee it.

Now that I am not running the Men's Warehouse, I shall probably begin with some old old old poems, just as a good, easy transition.