Pursuits

Galatians 5:13-24

2011-11-20T17:42:00.004-06:00

"For you were called to freedom brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love, serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself. But if you bit and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another."

How do I walk by the Spirit that I might not gratify the desires of the flesh? By acting in love manifested in serving one another we nip the opportunities for flesh-living in the bud. We have freedom, but we use it to serve in love, otherwise we could use it for selfishness; how then manifesting? well instead of love in service, biting and devouring one another. That sounds violent eh? Hateful, strife, bitterness, anger, jealously towards one another, but I would assume it includes other things in the list of fleshly manifestations: sexual immorality, sensuality, idolatry, impurity, and even sorcery - things not typically coming to mind when we read about biting and devouring one another. It can be even a desire to consume the other, to take from them, control them, to deify them, and be deified by them.

"But I say, walk by the Spirit and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh." If in our freedom, we are to be careful not to give opportunity, and this opportunity is canceled by serving one another through a heart of love, then let us examine the nature of our new heart in the Lord. From this we will start dropping fruit from our trees, fruit like love eager to serve, effervescent joy, peace will release in our hearts, patience unthreatened by any fearful thought, kindness as we have our needs already taken care of that we can seek to be kind to others, goodness with out the shame of indulging deviance, faithfulness with an allegiance to the one we are under current submission, gentleness again unthreaten by anything that we might need to defend ourselves against - especially accusation, self-control that will give no quarter to a fleshly rebellion that seeks to preserve itself. There is no law, no guilt, no condemnation, no charge to be levied against these things.

"Walk by the spirit and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh." They are mutually exclusive. you cant have dead people living in graves. "For the desires of the flesh are against the desires of the Spirit; and the desires of the Spirit are against [not simply 'uncomfortable around'] the flesh. For these are opposed to each other to keep you from doing what you want to do."

And what should we fail? Should we take steps with our flesh, we know that "if we are led by the Spirit, we are not under the law." Therefore the shame and guilt and naturally demanded condemnation that the law carries does not stick when come under submission to the Spirit. We repent and led the flood of Jesus' blood cascade over us to shed our guilt. We come under the Spirit. Remember, "Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.

Occupying Occupy Denton

2011-10-17T16:07:00.008-05:00

Call me a pansy but flower-essence tea steeped in bit of (local) honey ain’t anything less than refreshing lovin’goodness – like the kinda that may have existed in the pre-fall side of the Garden of Eden. I picked the smallest table at Big Mike’s under one of the better local art canvas of Denton (Venetian Dream by Kelsey Anne), processing the thoughts and sentiments of a conversation I just held with a few local organizers of Occupy Denton. As evidence by the news reporter who couldn’t get a straight answer as to what to write about, this event isn’t something describable in one sentence as to what they are rebelling against and/or espousing. Nonetheless, if I could take an open-to-correction stab at it, I would say its antiestablishmentarianism. Corporate capitalism as a societal function is failing us. We want equal rights, anarchy, freedom in every way. We want not to be exploited by those in power, we want exploiters to be held accountable, and we want everyone’s voice to be validated.

I rode up on my bike reading all the posters and watching the American flags fly, boasting a peace sign instead of stars. On one side of me, people were lounging in the grass and painting, on the far back side, a vocal supporter of the cause was engaged in passionate conversation with a passerby, and in various landings tents were pitched for the dedicated campers. It reminds me a bit of a recently watched Wonder Years episode where Kevin Arnold joins up with this hippie sister and freinds for a few days. I would not have been surprised to see Karen Arnold pop out of one of the tents and either start painting or step up to her soapbox.

She didn’t and I dismounted my bike to walk about for a bit. I spoken with one kid who was pickin’ at his guitar. He was tall and lanky like me, a young shaved face, and a patchwork of Hot Topic patches on black plants. I asked him somewhat pointedly what he was all about in this context. I may have backed him in a corner. The most he could come up with was disgust for raising tuition prices. But he did express an enjoyment of the community he found with the people around him.

Moving on I passed a poster with tons of different people's sound bites, like busy bees buzzing around their queen, the question, “What do we want?” Well, just take a gander at the pic to see the buzzreply.

Making my way to the back I came to the most vocal of the group. He wouldn’t call himself the leader, but he seemed to know the most about what was happening. It didn’t take 15 seconds of listening to his discussion with another girl for me to interject a thought into his claims. Thus the conversation between us two began. We debated in theory the government and established systems of authoritarianism. I asked him to use smaller words here and there; he was very informed and intelligent, passionate about what he wanted to see.

In fact, he was no stranger to me. I cashed his checks a couple summers ago down at Point Bank and seen him on campus since then (passing out socialism flyers). He never wrongly guessed the identity of the “Famous Person of the Day” trivia that I put out at my teller station no matter how obscure the figure. (Most impressingly, he guessed Captain James Cook, credited with claiming Australia for England).

As we continued our discussion I laid down my hand and played the Christian card. “So, ok, I’m a Christian. What has been your experience and interaction with the Christian worldview in relation to what your talking about?” (something like that.)

“I have no problem with Christians. We are looking for an all inclusive reality and community to exist together.” (something like that.)

We continued from there, especially hitting on Truth. He said he believed in the existence of big ‘T’ Truth, but we all have little ‘t’ truth that works for us. He is searching constantly to know the big ‘T’ Truth and wants to know it. Between atheism (which he claims most closely), and Buddhism (he likes to meditate), and other less overtly mono-theistic views, he believes there are truths to be drawn, but of course as one who is railing against the government, doesn’t want to yoke himself or pledge alliengence to a God that seems to be a killjoy, authoritarian, strong arming, egotiscal George Bush type of being.

Nonetheless, I reluctantly challenged him to, in his words “knock on Jesus’ door” as he meditates. I say reluctantly because I assume that Jesus’ name has been smeared and soiled and made utterly despicable in his eyes and I want to give no more reason for people such as his self to believe irrealities of Jesus' nature. I don’t want to be disrespectfully pushy under the banner of being bold for Christ!! I’d rather take Donald Miller’s approach from Blue Like Jazz and apologize for the damage we have done and invite them to take another look at Christianity.

Not to say there is no room for sharing the Gospel because I then spent the next 20-30 minutes talking with the girl beside him about homosexuality and Jesus, with bits of Gospel interlaced. No, I didn’t lay it out for her in full (the Gospel that is), but I pray that I pushed enough for her to reconsider some of her assumptions on Christianity while pushing not so hard that I forced Christianity down her throat.

Walking away, I felt conviction over the pride with which I rode up to the event. “Who are these prideful, rebellious hooligans? They are so blinded by their pride and hate they can’t begin to love truth!” Mind you, when Jesus saved me, he saved me in the midst of my religious self-righteousness. I confess I still struggle with this, and I repent that I may love people of every sinful-prideful condition in their heart, that I might love myself, and anarchist on the corner of Fry and Hickory, and others.

May I say too that I’m challenged by what was presented. Maybe I’m wrong in my political views. I’ll concede that. My dad is hardlined in his political opinions and allegiances, and I get most of my pre-spun information from him. At the same time, I find these often challenged. While, I don’t see a need for revolution quite yet, maybe it's true that one is coming and we need it.

But my allegiance is to Christ.

To love him and others.

To renounce my sin.

To renounce my pride.

And, God thank you, to worship in joy and discomfort and pain; in every despertar, every step and dream.

For the Record: Christ's love for me today is comparable to the sweetness of a flower-essence iced tea steeped with honey.

ISFBSN at my place (BYOF)

2011-10-06T23:13:00.005-05:00

I got out the oil tonight, asked the Lord to keep me from doing Christian witchcraft, blessed it and spread it over the top and sides of my front door. I declared that all demons were to be checked at the door. Moreover, I invited the Holy Spirit in to my house to minister as He saw fit.

Thirty minutes later, the door bell clanged once then two or three more times in playful succession. My two new Turkish friends had arrived for the International Student Fellowship Bible Study Night (ISFBSN). They come from a Muslim background, but wanted to know the beliefs of Christianity.

We talked about Creation and how we learn that in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. This a deep mystery and fundamental truth of our faith - a rich well of life, a treasure box with ever valuating treasure. By means of inquisitive request, we moved towards the reason that God, in his self-sufficiency, made man. This God in his infinite self-sufficiency created us to relate with him, to know the fullness of a God such as Himself. Most of the night then focused on who Jesus is/was. He being the husband/God in a covenant relationship with his wife the church.

Oh that the Spirit would move. Oh that Christianity would not be another subject of study from an ancient textbook. Oh that the Spirit would be active in regeneration, that Jesus would show up and cause belief. Oh that the gifts of the Spirit would manifest, that the fruit of the Spirit would be produced.

For the Record: F=Friends.

Thoughts after I bought Troy a pita when someone else just bought him a pizza

2011-09-30T20:28:00.009-05:00

I wonder what it is to engage the downest of the down, the outest of the out, the scummest of the scum, the rejectedest of the rejected. The people who are drowning in the washing machine of despairing situations with an endless supply of quarters to keep it going. I know how easy it is to see missions as disaster-relief but to go beyond that, to bring an end to and relieve for good the disaster, well that takes more than a short-term mission trip, huh? It's easy enough to alleviate a stomach aching for food for a moment, but I think about how said stomach will need something more in just a few hours. Then once again in another meridian-to-horizon passage of the sun. The next time we meet, will the person be any closer to overcoming the despair of his stinky, toothless self enough to no longer be a black hole of others' pity? Will he even be so changed as to begin seeking how to care for and be a blessing to others?

Here's a bit of my history: I go out to Fry St. from time to time looking for some down and outers. Troy, Mark, Billy, Jay. I've given them money, Subway gift cards, and prayed over them, but something is perpetuated that overrules their desires/ability to change. They don't like living on the street so much, but there is enough ______________ to keep them there.

What is that?

What is in that ___________ and how does Jesus answer it? I figure discipleship plays a large roll in addressing the _____________, "Teaching them to observe all that I've commanded." So then, my missional mindset isn't so much relieving disasters in their stomach and calling it a win as much as it is walking with these guys on a consistent basis that they might begin to rise above the poverty of the circumstance and address the poverty in their hearts. Think about how even we engage ourselves in our own moments of poverty, we bring relief and the scriptures. My buddy is struggling? we get some coffee (I'll pay). He gets a listening ear, but I also encourage and exhort him in what the Word of God says - not in a jerk-ish kinda way, slapping him across the face with truth, but in gentle exhortation, believing in the power of the Word, not my own application of it towards him.

Is that the right perspective on these things?

I think about a guy in Guatemala who obeyed the voice of the Holy Spirit leading him into a building of crack heads to share the Gospel. That's an entrenchment in the enemy's camps that is so deep that simply giving a sip of cool water won't stand a chance to create holiness in a dude's heart. But maybe that's the whole key and point: It is only the vocal command of Jesus spoken at a person's imprisoned heart that breaks these cycles, spills open the front door of the washing machine into breaths of fresh air and life to these victims. And as the HS works, we walk with them.

Sometimes I feel so smart just because I have questions. But then I feel really dumb when I find that I'm not the only one to have them, and I'm actually more lazy about getting them answered with actions involved. I'm learning.

For the Record: I still think it's always worth doing disaster relief whether or not you have a the time to follow up with that person. BUT even that opinion I hold with an open hand.

Roots (raices)

2011-09-24T12:30:00.003-05:00

I desire a well trained ear, fine-tuned into his station. It frustrates me that it is as tough as it is right now, a time of straining to hear him and at times believe in him. Why should it be such a struggle for a believer to learn the voice of his God? Do I not know Him? Love Him? Testify to Him? Frustration leads to doubt – doubt that I or anyone really hears from God. It leads to a hard heart – I refuse to be moved by any voice or thought or word.

I wait. I set aside hours to be before the Lord. I continue to fight my fears and frustrations. I have searched out several avenues for intimacy with Him – deliverance from demons, silence before him, praying to be filled with the Holy Spirit, ministering to the homeless, doing a mission trip – and find that all bring fruit, but they aren’t him.

But while I don’t have the quiet time I want, I do have quite a bit of strength to garden. To plant. To cultivate. I’m growing four pots of herbs right now. Thyme, Spearmint, Calendula, and Lavender. My roommate took over watering them when I was romping around Guatemala. He loves giving lots of water. But as it were, having sprouted 3 weeks ago, these herbs have not grown much. I reckon it’s an overwatering problem. In my mind’s eye, in waterful abundance, the plants have no need for their roots to go deep and become well established. So I have taken over of watering them again.

There is a time for a seedling to receive a ton of water in order to sprout, but shortly thereafter there is a need for its roots to go much deeper if it is to grow into an abounding pant, bearing flowers and fruit.

I guess I thought I had already been well established, that my roots were already deep in the Lord. I didn’t think it was possible to revert to the sprout stage of the Christian walk. That’s the heart of my struggle, most of what I’m experiencing and what I have experienced, I never thought possible. I have no framework for how I’ve gotten where I am nor for what I’m experiencing while I am here – that being such a deep radio silence from the Lord.

Yet here I am.

Ah but I know it’s not the same. Maybe he has transplanted me and I must reestablish roots. Or maybe I am simply getting a major pruning while going through a crazy drought, seeking to establish roots in some tough Texas soil.

For the record: A grateful heart helps in times like this.

The Flower Is Growing!

2011-09-19T22:49:00.004-05:00

Back from Guatemala by one day. While down on what I would rather call a ministry trip, there were several motifs that seemed to come up. Bathroom stories and "Lee you need to stay here." The latter of which having nothing to do with the bathroom stories, mind you, rather it was due to either the way I served the kids, or the way I was served by the Lord in my service of the kids - or both.

The way I make decisions in life is by weighing them out over time. I shift my mindset and imagination into the new area and begin to adjust my actions towards that decision. If I find myself still walking in that mindset after a few days, I go for it. I can say with quite a bit of certainty, this is where I find myself heading - going back to Guatemala, to Fundaninos to serve the kids down there.

Why? I want to disciple the kids. I want to play a father role in their life. I want to be available to them and show them how to live, in pain and joy. I love to teach both English and Jesus. I love to play and explore. I love to hear children's thoughts. I love to lead through the Word and figure out what it means as we try to live it out. I want to dream with the kids and help them accomplish their dreams. I want to be a safe place for them to try out the commands of God and celebrate with them as the walk in holiness and show them mercy as they fail.

The Lord always talks about how He is the father to the fatherless. I can never fulfill that role as He desires it be filled, but as a single guy at 25, done with my degree, and with a desire to love on kids, and the opportunity to do so, I can make myself available to be the hands and feet of a father (The Father if he would so desire).

The Lord says that pure and undefiled religion is to visit the orphan and widow in distress and to be unstained by the world. I see this is the Lord's heart. Maybe the Lord will call me to the States at some point to love on our own orphans, but as it were, I have already loved these kids and they have loved and trusted me. I have a mission field readily accessible to me in these children of Guatemala. My eyes of compassion is already on them.

So I have sent the letter to the missions pastor of our campus asking that we might begin this discussion on what it might look like to go to Guatemala, sent out by the Village, for midterm-long term. I do see myself as doing this long term, we'll see. Fund raising scares me a lot. Asking for money is no fun to me. But maybe it's because I don't yet fully believe in the mission. Even now, as I begin to believe in it's worth-whileness, I find more ease in asking.

So the word is patience. That is the card I play tonight. Do not disengage where you are at. Force nothing in to the now. James talks about making plans.

Come now, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit"— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, "If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that." As it is, you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil. So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.

So I will wait.

May I be patient. May I love people now. May I not give in the pride I have harbored so close to my chest with pity parties, bitterness, anger, and entitlement. May I not fear the Word of God but love it and be willing to be re-formed by it.

Patience.
Trust.

For the Record: "Ya crece la flor."

Manure, banana peels, and old coffee grounds: God's gifts to his children

2011-09-06T21:34:00.010-05:00

They say Tyler, Texas is the rose capital of the world. That's funny 'cause I've yet to meet an extranjero that has said to me, "Ooooo, you from Tyler? Have you many roses there, yes?" But we Tylerites do have a large rose garden for graduation and engagement pictures, a rose parade, and a rose queen. Exciting.

I went to visit my hometown a few weekends ago. One of the top items on the agenda was to get roses. The following is a chart of how much I know about certain things (self-rated).

Tellering
[----------------------------------------------]

Stars
[-------------------------------]

Spanish
[-------------------------------------------]

Women's Shoes
[-----]

Jewish history
[--------------]

Japanese history
[-]

Gardening
[---]

Roses
[---]

Notice 'Gardening' and 'Roses' have the same size scale. That's because everything I knew about gardening was wrapped up in roses and vise versa.

By comparison, notice the difference in the scales when I add one reflecting my interest in learning more about said subject.

Tellering
[----------------------------------------------]
{---------------------------------------------}

Stars
[-------------------------------]
{----------------------------------}

Spanish
[------------------------------------------]
{-----------------------------------------------------}

Women's Shoes
[-----]
{}

Jewish history
[--------------]
{----------------------}

Japanese history
[-]
{---}

Gardening
[---]
{-----------------------------------------------}

Roses
[---]
{-------------------------------------------------------}

My requirements for roses were beautiful color and, moreover, fragrance. Not the ones genetically modified for prolific-budding that require little work and bear no fragrance, but something beautiful and simple in every way. I chose 3 bushes, Mr. Lincoln, Intrigue, and Belinda's Dream - though I'm not convince Belinda is a smeller (post purchase realization.)

Over the past 2 months I've marveled at trying to grow things and here are some thooughts and things I've learned.

Upon purchasing my roses, I kept them in the pots for a week or so as I tried to decided where would be best to plant them. The backyard that I might venture out in the quite, cool mornings (all 6 or 7 of them that Texas experiences per year) and enjoy them in solitude? The front yard to boast their beauty to others and allow people to stop and smell them? The sides for prime sun exposure? I ended up choosing the front yard underneath my window. Unfortunately, this spot was taken by a huge shrub. I spent the better part of an afternoon into the evening battling this shrub, even trying to use a rope and my 25-horsepower Honda Civic to pull it out. Finally, I ripped it out and the bed was free of all other weeds and plants. But, it still wasn't time to plant the roses. I dug 3 enormous holes - much bigger than what just sticking these roses in the ground would have required. This was in order to pour a high nutrient soil-mix in the ground giving the roses every chance to succeed in there new spot. Finally, with a freshly watered bed of new soil, I placed my roses into ground with care. I was quite proud of them, and honestly, I even prayed over them. I don't know what good it actually did, but if I have authority over them, then doesn't it make sense I have say in blessing and cursing them?

I or my roommate watered them everyday, long drinks of water, until I receive faulty information that roses don't need so much water. So, we let it go for a few days. Well, this summer, North Texas was declared the hottest place on the earth (or nation... same thing right?) and my roses very quickly began to shrivel up and loose about %80 of their leaves. I, therefore, gave up the small amounts of watering thing and continued the everyday routine. Not only that but I read a chapter in Sunset Introduction to Basic Gardening (850 illustrations) about pruning and learned how to care for my roses in this way. In a few days, I began to see small new leaves forming on the main stalks. Then to my delight, all of them began growing many more new leaves as the old ones just about all fell off. Soon my Mr. Lincoln formed a flower bud. I couldn't believe it. It was more than I expected and much sooner too. I was elated when it bloomed three of four days later. The flower looked jankety at best but smelled amazing. Plus, the simple fact that it had made it - it had survived the ride from Tyler, days of indecision in the planters, a transplant of soil, harsh Texas heat, and a 25 year old's attempt at pruning. I planted, I watered, God caused the growth.

Through this whole process, through sitting next to the roses and improving their soil, giving them water every morning, pruning as needed, I've had several thoughts: God is the same with us. We don't feel pretty. We know what we should be. But sometimes when we're trying our best we still lose all our leaves, even the ones we had grown to trust and seemed to be working just fine. Sometimes, he even prunes the parts of us we thought had no problems - and maybe they didn't - but He has a different vision for us. Then we try our best at producing fruit or blooms. At first they may come out very disheveled and we may be tempted towards discouragement or even embarrassment, but He is elated, taking pictures and showing everyone and what's happening. And soon enough, after daily watering, coming under the protection and guardianship of his authority, we get more and more healthy, growing bigger, more robust and symmetrical blooms. I have not spared one detail in giving my roses the chance to survive, and not only survive, do exceedingly well - I even throw gifts of bananas and coffee grounds in there from time to time - and I am sure God has done the same with us.

For the Record: I came home excited to find that my Calendula is sprouting, and I'm awaiting the 3 newest additions to my garden to come up as well: spearmint, thyme, and lavender.

A la presencia

2011-07-20T00:39:00.007-05:00

Lle-- lleva llévame
a tu lugar - el lugar
más real sobre todo.
Sobretodo más irreal
en la mente atada al mundo
de la carne y las velas.

Lle-- lleva llévame
a tu pensador - cerebro,
donde mundos están propuestos,
publicados por la lengua --
estallando del espiritual
al físico
nunca olivando su origen.

Anhelando –

Lle-- lleva llévame
a casa - mi casa,
pues, tuya,
y yo la comparto
con la luz de tus trapos
como bombillas
de gloria espantosa,
sino segura para los cubiertos
por pura sangre.

Lle-- lle-- llévame
llévame al seno tuyo.
No es para cobardes,
sino los en que hay arroyo
del divino.
Huye el pavor,
y se queda el amor.
Llévame a tu presencia.

I am Mans greatest need

2011-05-08T09:18:00.002-05:00

Falso.

Fear of exposure is an interesting beast isn't it? I remember a moment with my ex-fiancee in front of me as she gave me back the ring and said, "When you want me to have this, you can get me another." My heart shook as slowly took the ring and looked away before I creaked out the question, "What do your friends think about all this? About me?"

Revealing question, huh? Not "Hey talk to me," or "I understand that I have been failing in my pursuit of you," or even, "yeah you're right, I'm sorry I've dishonored you as I have." I was concerned with how others, girls in particular, felt about me. At least while she still had the ring, I was justified, I was still a marriable man. Taking it back spoke something else about me.

Was it true? Was I much less mature? Was I much less desirable? Was I not as great as every girl thought? Yes, I was. I am. See, I wanted to be the guy every girl wants to be with. I want to be their greatest need; it brings me glory. It brings me esteem, praise, honor. It brings me smiles. But these are all in vain. They have the appearance and luster of treasure, something to be highly guarded, but they rot away - fall away like dust into a grave - in the light of eternity. Or even quicker, maybe not 2 minutes after I've felt their affirmation.

But the deal is, I am not man's greatest need like I want to be. Nor is another person mine. I can be rejected from direct contact from another's spirit -- I ought to be. It is no small thing to operate in fishing mode (fishing for compliments, verbal or otherwise). We may understand what it is cast and receive compliments, but we are not meant to take them into the vaults of our hearts, nor ought we seek to be comfortably seated on the inner throne of another's heart.

In receiving, the vaults of our hearts will sustain only the estimation that comes from God the Father's opinion of us. On the throne within, God alone can reside. There we ought to fear. When we consider Him as man's greatest need, and we understand the why as well, we tremble at the thought of projecting ourselves into the vaults of someone else's heart and we think twice about letting someone's in.

So then what is God's opinion of us? We are esteemed. We are exalted. In our humble state, those who trust in Jesus, also trust that he pleads our case to the Father, "This one is mine." We trust that his blood fashions for us acceptability before the Holy Presence, "See he is spotless and pure." No condemnation can ever stick to us. No praise of man either. All goes to Christ who bore our our condemnation to its very end - death - that we might be free to see what is actually worthy of entrance into the vaults of our hearts - God himself with his Spirit residing, presiding within us.

At words' end, sitting before her, I was exposed in my humanity, my sin and true "greatness" laid bare, yet I still wanted their praises. No, I can not receive praises because I am human - I am not their greatest need therefore I cannot demand it. I am not their greatest need so I can be exposed. They are not my greatest need so their opinions of me are not everlasting.

With such a security then in Christ, I find movement to be who I am, and more over to love others and seek their good, regardless of their push and pull for more or less.

For the Record: It wasn't that great a ring to begin with.

Avoiding Torture in SLA

2010-11-16T17:17:00.004-06:00

In linguistics today I learned about the importance of perceived control to humans and how it effects second language acquisition. I sat there listening to the highly-educated doctoral professor before me, trying to line up what she was saying with my worldview. I struggled with phrases like, “the need for control,” coming from her lips, and “the illusion of control,” spring up from my mind. Some, she pointed out, feel it more acutely than others, and it can be a powerful motivation in learning a second language. We took a moment to take individual tests to see how we ourselves perceive our own self-determination. It was when she pointed out that even torture is literally based in denying a person their ability to control what happens to them that I had this thought.

The control I have over my life is a gift from God.

Walking into the class 20 minutes prior, I would have said that we as humans have minimal control if any over our lives and that control is just an illusion and self-determination is hardly a reality. But now I hold that a little more subjectively. Thus is how I would describe it as seen from my eyes.

Control is a gift from God. He has given us self-determination and will to choose and decide. But ultimately there exists, as if in the same vestige of a scientific law, a higher Will than my own. And of that Will, is the one with the power to make it happen. I would say, however, it is first to be thought of as Will then secondly the ability to make this Will happen (power, especially power to control).

This is a troubling thought, that someone else has not only the power to control another, but that perhaps this being has the right and authority to do so. If such is the case, our only hope then is that this being is good and his Will is good. An added bonus would be that he then desires to give to us good, selflessly and mercifully.

In fact, it shouldn’t be taken lightly God’s ability to control coupled with his goodness and his desire to pour out said goodness on his creation. Trusting in his power to execute goodness makes life bearable – and torture evitable – when we lose control of our circumstances. This loss of control is either always constant or right around the corner for us. I illustrate this in a question. How many other wills are there on this globe? In this country? In this city? In the community in which one resides? When anyone of these other wills-with-legs clashes against us it can be annoying at best. Consider then the good nature of the Higher Will, and herein lies my crescendo. It is God’s mercy that would teach us that our control is not absolute, and it his grace that would allow us to have any to begin with. Whether by his deliberate choice towards an outcome or passivity in his permissive will, he remains in control teaching us this truth, drawing trust and allegiance of those who would be willing submisients* to Him. While we desire our happiness more deeply than anyone else, He desires it still deeper with the wisdom and power to make it possible.

I am convinced that left to myself, I would fail to bring about my own good and joy. I am not wise. I do not know all truth, and of the truth I do know, I still choose to live contrary more often than I know or will admit.

*Those who would willfully submit to an authority.

For the Record: I found in the self-test from linguistics that I’m a free-willing-walking Calvinist; go figure.

Dollar Coins and a slight Breeze

2010-10-26T00:09:00.000-05:00

I found out that Jupiter House offers coffee for the exact price of

One (1) US Dollar.

It reminds me of two (2) things: 1) The commercial where a guy is fishing with his buddy, finds a dollar floating in the pond, and doesn't bother to pick it up until his friend says that he can buy lots of stuff with a dollar - especially for whatever it was they were advertising for (phones maybe?) 2) Dollar coins.

So the next day at work, I made a withdraw from my account for five (5) dollar coins. (Oh, Susan B. Anthony, how good you look in silver). The fact of the matter is, dollar coins are a lot of fun to use, but I'm not sure they've ever found practicality here in the States. Europe has one (1) Euro coins, Mexico one (1) Pesos, Guatemala one (1) Quetzales, and they all use them. Maybe it was the minting of the impractically huge Eisenhower dollar coin that killed anyone's desire to use ever again.

I went up to Jupiter House tonight, found the best table to study at, and hammered away at linguistics homework. I say I hammered away at it. Truth be known, I'm having the darnedest time focusing on the things that I want to retain - mostly notably, school. (Other affected areas: counting back cash, small talk). It's like I want to be doing something else, something that matters. I want all pressure, burdens, Deadlines! to be off me. I want to breathe again. I feel rushed.

What is that about our culture, this incessant need to go-go-go? You ever feel like you're in some sort of time-trial, a rush to get there, but you really can't describe what that "there" is? I guess it can be hard to notice until you go without cell reception, away from facebook, out of your car for days at at a time, and be somewhere without music perpetually bombarding you ears. hmmmmm. Image that, being unplugged from the instant for just a moment and having to be.

I think that I long for the slow, for the impractical, being inefficient for the sake of the process. Some people might then call me a romantic, an idealist, an aesthete, or whatever that word is that I'm looking for. I really don't think I am. I just think we have become masters of watching life fly by and I'm not sure I want to do that. I think 1/2 (one-half) of life occurs in the interruptions and in the silence: where you aren't to busy to be reminded of what's on the other side of your eyes, and where you can be still enough to hear what your spirit and soul have been screaming.

Maybe even what the Spirit of Truth is saying.

(If we believe in that mystic stuff anymore.)

I got up from my studies/anxieties and took a quick walk around the courthouse. It was justifiable cause walks are good for me and it would only be a short one. We had been hit with some storms in the days before, but instead of lowering the temperature like the last storms had done, it seemed to raise it for a day or two (2). But tonight, a brisk breeze blew at a slightly cooler degree than the unagitated air outside. It was perfect. Upon rounding the courthouse, I decided to climb the stairs a little ways and just sit in the breeze for a while.

I'd love to say that my heart slowed down enough till it was perfectly content. It didn't. But it did slow some. And I saw some of the world around me. I sat there and thanked God for such a moment and tried to maintain an attitude of prayer - for my own heart, non-believers, and Denton to know and love and seek Truth.

(Do we believe in that stuff anymore?)

Sometimes it's the little things that remind me of my humanity. Paying with the impractical dollar coin, sitting in the wind, and stopping before bed to write a blog by dual (2) candle light has all done the trick (or at least helped).

For the Record: Coconut coffee = good idea.

Gerry the Hitch-hiker

2009-12-02T20:51:00.000-06:00

1 hour and thirty-eight minutes after the beginning of a new day, my dim headlights suddenly illuminated a man, his arm outstretched towards the road, one thumb up, and a small bag strap across his back. At 70 miles an hour, he was quickly out of sight. My heart pumped a little faster as I contemplated the idea.

"He could be a killer," as my mind aimlessly flipped through the A&E documentaries of shows I named on the spot like "Hitch-hiker Files," or "Never Seen Again." And I heard the anouncer in my mind, "Thanksgiving 2009. Lee Vanderpool was driving home to be with his family for the holiday, but it wasn't till 5 years later that his body was finally found."

I passed one exit. It was almost freezing temperatures outside.

I passed a second exit. My odds of me turning around where growing less and less likely. Shelter for this man was miles away; it would be so much easier to enjoy the safety and warmth of my own car and tell myself that it's his fault he's homeless and carless.

As the third exit approached, I flipped on my blinker and with the thought, "You mother is going to kill you when she finds out-- IF you survive to tell her."

A few minutes later I saw him again and promptly pulled over. I had no plan should he try and pull a fast one on me. But I guess he couldn't do much either should I try and screw him over.

I left the door locked and rolled down the window. I had my finger on the send button of my phone with a text message I had prepared as I turned around. It said what I was doing, where I was, and a description of the man. But as the man approached my window, I saw that I had a wrong description so I never sent it. 'Cause what good would it be if I sent the message, and police arrest the wrong dude or none at all. So I just gave a brief introductory interview.

"Where you headed?" I asked.

"Longview!" He said trying to get in.

"Take you as far as Tyler?" (45 minutes before Longview.)

I was nervous and knew no way to ask clever questions, so I just expressed my exact thoughts and fears, "You armed?"

"No!"

"You got a gun?"

"No!"

"Got a knife?"

"No! You got somewhere to be, and so do I."

"Ok get in." I said, and I unlocked the door. I turned on the interior light and checked him out. "If you make me the least bit nervous, I'm going to kick you out without hesitation, ok?"

"Ok."

"Happy thanksgiving."

Gerry the hitch-hiker had left home at 13 years old. Who knows how his parents feel about it. He can't remember the goodbyes and doesn't really maintain connections with them. In fact about the only people he does maintain connections with are the lady who has the rest of his stuff (clothes mainly) in California and his sisters in Florida. That's where he was heading was the Talahassee area of Florida.

Being on the road for 47 years left Gerry with a mind like an atlas, a shield that kept people out, and a desire to start over. As tall as me and just as white, He had strikingly weathered facial features. his lower lip disapeared in his mouth drawing his chin up and out a bit from lack of teeth. He had plenty of scraggly white whiskers and a smell probably began before his last shave. A nice trucker hat with ear flaps gave his guant build a slightly russian look and his slightly colored eyes gave wore ever emotion but remained guarded by his "shield."

"You cold?" I asked, reaching for the heat nob.

"Yeah."

"Well let's see if we can't get some heat going."

We got to small talking, mostly about how both of us found ourselves in the same car together.

"You're my first hitch-hiker, Gerry. You been a lot of peoples first?"

"Yep."

"I was kinda nervous. You always hear stories on A&E and such about people getting killed and robbed by hitch-hikers and such."

"Well you gotta think about the other side of that. I don't know you either, and just maybe your gunna pull over and shoot me and drive off," he replied.

"That pretty common?" I asked.

He paused, looking straight out the window, "I've heard stories."

"I guess you're homeless, too?"

"Yep." And we got to talking about how the road can sometimes feel like home. "But sometimes it deals you a rough blow, like last night."

"What happened last night?" I asked.

He proceeded to tell me about how he was in Northern New Mexico in -5 degree weather and no real shelter. He also has 2 rods in his leg from an accident at the carnival that he worked at for 17 years. "So I just smoked my last 2 boxes of cigarretts and paced underneath a street light, till a tuck finally picked me up this morning."

All he had on was 2 t-shirts, a long sleeve shirt, a light jacket, 2 pairs of pants, and his Russian hat - hardly enough to fight off -5 degree weather that freezes your lungs with every breath you take after you've finished 2 boxes of cigarettes.

He had no skill set, no friends, "I don't make friends and I don't let people make me their friend. I rub people wrong anyway. We don't seem get along that well."

"Why? We seem to get along pretty well you and I?"

"I don't know." Pause. "But I can tell you this: I can count on one hand how many white women I've been with..." Pause.

My eyebrows raised a bit.

"But I just enjoy me a good black woman. And some people got a problem with that."

Living the life of a carny, he didn't save his money much but just spent it on partying and women. But even with the shield he used to keep people out, he did mention that about 5 times in his life he had the option of marrying and leaving the life of the road but each time, he chose the road.

About 30 miles outside of Tyler, I decided to gear myself up for a late night and told Gerry I'd take him to Longview. He would have continued walking through the coldest part of the night till he got another ride. I had the means; he had nothing.

We continued to shoot the breeze. Talked about God and the stars. He had plenty of time to sit out and watch them. When he's out hitch-hiking and decides not to go through the night, he usually finds a place 30 minutes before dark to hide himself on the side of the road, completely out of sight of anyone. And in his 0 degree bag that his usually had with him, he just watches the stars till he falls soundly asleep till morning.

"You seen the brightest one that's out right now this time of year?" I asked him.

"The brightest one's the North Star," he erroneously repeated.

"Well its actually Jupiter." I corrected. We argued for a bit and I left it alone as he informed me that he only had a 6th grade education.

God was interesting subject. "I'm about the closest thing to an atheist you can get." Which I found to be a very interesting statement see as he knew his Bible and claimed to believe it all. At least the prophecy. He noted that all the Old Testament prophecy came true, same with the New Testament. And he loved Revelation. Arriving in Longview, we hit up the only 24 hour spot we could find open on Thanksgiving, Waffle House. There we sat down and he proceeded to point out how revelation was coming true. He had a pretty good mind, and I told him that. Still the best thing the Bible was for though to him was "hustlin" people into handouts.

After Waffle House, we went back to the car to get his stuff out and part our own ways.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Gerry. I have a wool blanket in the trunk if you'd like it. I mean... Anything?"

"No no, just, if you don't mind, I could really go for a pack of cigarettes."

"Well I don't have any with me or enough to buy some, but here's the last of my cash," I said passing him 2 Washington's. "It's not enough to buy a full pack but it'll get ya started I guess."

"Thanks. I appreciate everything." He said, just as he had a hundred times through out his life.

Gerry has no job. He lives off of other's generosity and the government, wasting money on cigarettes at least. He smells bad and you wouldn't trust him much around your children. He could have killed me or robbed me.

God loves Gerry Jones to death and knows his story. Gerry Jones is an image-bearer of God and will absolutely glorify Him.