Showing posts with label Creative Expression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creative Expression. Show all posts
Sunday, March 04, 2012
Friday, November 18, 2011
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
going. going. gong.
going. going. gong.
ring the bell, to there and back.
the road trips of life... on foot... bike... or minivan. adventures, none the less.
where are you going?
take care. take care.
leave home. poke the box. venture on.
Friday, December 17, 2010
the literal journeys from here to there and places in between [2] westbound and down
the road west is long, straight and a bit wasted.
the first thing that comes to mind when i think of the road west is abandonment. have you ever been west of the Mississippi? have you ever been through Texas? New Mexico? Arizona? wide open empty spaces liter the landscape. and then, in what seems like a mirage, a building appears in the distance - only this structure is almost camouflaged by the weeds and debris that surround it.
the old west is a cataclysmic terrain of emptiness with pockets of civilization once booming, now looming. and yet so many are drawn to its lure. perhaps its because we all know what lies beyond, just a few more miles down the old road... the pacific. the land of opportunity. the land of celebrity. California. and California, for so many, represents hope.
my views of this road west, is slim. so forgive me for calling it like i have seen it - but driving along the mother road - Interstate 40 and off to the most historic of roads - Route 66 - all that is seen are memories of what once was. it's the past that has yet to catch up with the present, eons away from the future. because many moons ago, Americans were curious, and traveled across the country - living the dream, like Jack Kerouac's On the Road. Route 66 was the road of choice and boom towns sprung up along that sacred path - and they flourished. Then, in the 60's, Eisenhower's interstate system was implemented and old 66 was bypassed for the four lane super highway, connecting the east to the west, north to the south.
depression was left in its wake.
now that i've wasted three or four paragraphs painting my interpretation of history - what is the point? because i have, on a few occasions, traveled that road - both roads. and those experiences are monumental.
on one encounter - with the family, we traveled to Phoenix, to drop my sister off at an Indian Reservation school, where she served as teacher. the memories of that family trip, when i was about 20 - proved to be an experience right out of the script from the movie Vacation. It's as if my dad was Chevy Chase - bound and determined to make the trip exciting and fresh. but alas, everything went wrong, the least of which was the motel room in Tulsa. the Roadside Inn (not a 5 star hotel in the least), had a bed that was slanted (broken box springs) and a sound-scape of gunfire outside our motel door.
on another encounter - i was heading towards hope - and hope was discovered just past painted deserts and canyons so grand; through the intense, dry heat of Vegas followed by 300 miles of nothing... and then, with all its beauty shined the lights of the big city: the hopes and dreams of Los Angeles were right in front of me.
the journey was riddled with mistakes and bad food and the unmistakable stench that was Amarillo, Texas - but the backdrop of sun, rolled-down windows and U2 on repeat was redeeming enough.
there were 5 and dime's along the road - in small towns not fit for a truck stop. in one of these we stopped for a drink. i think they sold the Coke in the old glass pop bottles still. Time moved on, except here. our journey brought us to a stop. one couldn't help but reflect. the radio was stuck in 1958. the grass was faded, burnt by the sun. The pick up trucks were rusted, the old feed mills, closed. even the stop light didn't work. this was a town drunk from nostalgia in a shot glass - and i drank it up, too. i remember its vintage hues, its passing winds. the flat terrain allowed for the eye to gaze upon the Rocky Mountains due west and a bit north. i remember wondering if the inhabitants of such a town knew what was beyond that horizon? did they dream of opportunity like i did? did they long to escape? had they held on to any innocence? had they longed for a return of simple things? like jobs and passer-bys... and hope?
but my stay was not long. after a quick meal at some unknown shack where the hostess was the waitress and the waitress was the cook, we were on our way again. it was getting dark and a storm would soon be upon us. as Kerouac once said: "one fast move or I'm gone." the storm came quickly (as they tend to come out there). i was gone.
hope was ahead of me. despair was in my rear view mirror.
yet i have never forgotten that scene. that place. those places along the road, the road west.
what happened next was an adventure of a lifetime. Los Angeles. Hollywood. 3rd Street Promenade. The Pacific Ocean. Film School.
it was this journey that - in part - shaped who i am today. my values. my vision. my dreams. all fleshed out in the warm California sun. 6 months later i was back home again. i don't remember anything about the journey home. i remember that i made it back (that's about it.)
i returned with few regrets, clinging to hope - a hope that survived the journey west and the desolation of abandoned towns and crappy motels; a hope that survived the tragedies and dramas of life in the hills behind the Hollywood sign. for me, the destination was the journey.
the first thing that comes to mind when i think of the road west is abandonment. have you ever been west of the Mississippi? have you ever been through Texas? New Mexico? Arizona? wide open empty spaces liter the landscape. and then, in what seems like a mirage, a building appears in the distance - only this structure is almost camouflaged by the weeds and debris that surround it.
the old west is a cataclysmic terrain of emptiness with pockets of civilization once booming, now looming. and yet so many are drawn to its lure. perhaps its because we all know what lies beyond, just a few more miles down the old road... the pacific. the land of opportunity. the land of celebrity. California. and California, for so many, represents hope.
my views of this road west, is slim. so forgive me for calling it like i have seen it - but driving along the mother road - Interstate 40 and off to the most historic of roads - Route 66 - all that is seen are memories of what once was. it's the past that has yet to catch up with the present, eons away from the future. because many moons ago, Americans were curious, and traveled across the country - living the dream, like Jack Kerouac's On the Road. Route 66 was the road of choice and boom towns sprung up along that sacred path - and they flourished. Then, in the 60's, Eisenhower's interstate system was implemented and old 66 was bypassed for the four lane super highway, connecting the east to the west, north to the south.
depression was left in its wake.
now that i've wasted three or four paragraphs painting my interpretation of history - what is the point? because i have, on a few occasions, traveled that road - both roads. and those experiences are monumental.
on one encounter - with the family, we traveled to Phoenix, to drop my sister off at an Indian Reservation school, where she served as teacher. the memories of that family trip, when i was about 20 - proved to be an experience right out of the script from the movie Vacation. It's as if my dad was Chevy Chase - bound and determined to make the trip exciting and fresh. but alas, everything went wrong, the least of which was the motel room in Tulsa. the Roadside Inn (not a 5 star hotel in the least), had a bed that was slanted (broken box springs) and a sound-scape of gunfire outside our motel door.
on another encounter - i was heading towards hope - and hope was discovered just past painted deserts and canyons so grand; through the intense, dry heat of Vegas followed by 300 miles of nothing... and then, with all its beauty shined the lights of the big city: the hopes and dreams of Los Angeles were right in front of me.
the journey was riddled with mistakes and bad food and the unmistakable stench that was Amarillo, Texas - but the backdrop of sun, rolled-down windows and U2 on repeat was redeeming enough.
there were 5 and dime's along the road - in small towns not fit for a truck stop. in one of these we stopped for a drink. i think they sold the Coke in the old glass pop bottles still. Time moved on, except here. our journey brought us to a stop. one couldn't help but reflect. the radio was stuck in 1958. the grass was faded, burnt by the sun. The pick up trucks were rusted, the old feed mills, closed. even the stop light didn't work. this was a town drunk from nostalgia in a shot glass - and i drank it up, too. i remember its vintage hues, its passing winds. the flat terrain allowed for the eye to gaze upon the Rocky Mountains due west and a bit north. i remember wondering if the inhabitants of such a town knew what was beyond that horizon? did they dream of opportunity like i did? did they long to escape? had they held on to any innocence? had they longed for a return of simple things? like jobs and passer-bys... and hope?
but my stay was not long. after a quick meal at some unknown shack where the hostess was the waitress and the waitress was the cook, we were on our way again. it was getting dark and a storm would soon be upon us. as Kerouac once said: "one fast move or I'm gone." the storm came quickly (as they tend to come out there). i was gone.
hope was ahead of me. despair was in my rear view mirror.
yet i have never forgotten that scene. that place. those places along the road, the road west.
what happened next was an adventure of a lifetime. Los Angeles. Hollywood. 3rd Street Promenade. The Pacific Ocean. Film School.
it was this journey that - in part - shaped who i am today. my values. my vision. my dreams. all fleshed out in the warm California sun. 6 months later i was back home again. i don't remember anything about the journey home. i remember that i made it back (that's about it.)
i returned with few regrets, clinging to hope - a hope that survived the journey west and the desolation of abandoned towns and crappy motels; a hope that survived the tragedies and dramas of life in the hills behind the Hollywood sign. for me, the destination was the journey.
Monday, March 01, 2010
Washed.
YouTube:
Vimeo:
created by tim beck for reCreative Ministries project - March 2010
Beauty in God's Eyes
Vimeo:
Washed (WITH background audio) from Tim Beck on Vimeo.
created by tim beck for reCreative Ministries project - March 2010
Beauty in God's Eyes
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
somewhere a knife.
I
somewhere a sharp knife cuts into the side of an orange.
somewhere the song of a piano plays an unrecognizable chorus.
somewhere someone is looking for something but can't find it.
somewhere questions are left unanswered.
snow falls on the trees and blankets the ground.
it resembles a peacefulness that is strangely unobtainable to many.
the blanket of peace comes up short and my feet are cold.
doesn't it make you feel good? to be lost? and cold? and without answers?
II
somewhere a dull knife splits an apple; core and seeds now exposed.
somewhere the frosting has been licked off of the cupcake.
somewhere an instrument is being tuned to the wrong key.
somewhere a truck passes by on the interstate; as does life.
there is no time for rest. no slowing down.
the snow does not stop coming down - while discontent and frustration freezes the soil.
the blanket of chaos dulls the luster and smothers the fire of life.
doesn't it make you feel good? to be lost? and dreary? and without answers?
III
somewhere a dirty knife penetrates the heart of a pomegranate as the full passion of life is discovered.
somewhere a solution is dancing wildly on the horizon.
somewhere a melody is filling the air with truth.
somewhere rescue is coming.
snow falls on cedars, compelling shelter to be sought.
the warmth of the fire within burns brightly and melts away frozen souls.
the blanket of hope comforts the whole.
doesn't it make you feel good? to be lost? and warm? and without answers?
waiting and hoping and seeking...
somewhere a sharp knife cuts into the side of an orange.
somewhere the song of a piano plays an unrecognizable chorus.
somewhere someone is looking for something but can't find it.
somewhere questions are left unanswered.
snow falls on the trees and blankets the ground.
it resembles a peacefulness that is strangely unobtainable to many.
the blanket of peace comes up short and my feet are cold.
doesn't it make you feel good? to be lost? and cold? and without answers?
II
somewhere a dull knife splits an apple; core and seeds now exposed.
somewhere the frosting has been licked off of the cupcake.
somewhere an instrument is being tuned to the wrong key.
somewhere a truck passes by on the interstate; as does life.
there is no time for rest. no slowing down.
the snow does not stop coming down - while discontent and frustration freezes the soil.
the blanket of chaos dulls the luster and smothers the fire of life.
doesn't it make you feel good? to be lost? and dreary? and without answers?
III
somewhere a dirty knife penetrates the heart of a pomegranate as the full passion of life is discovered.
somewhere a solution is dancing wildly on the horizon.
somewhere a melody is filling the air with truth.
somewhere rescue is coming.
snow falls on cedars, compelling shelter to be sought.
the warmth of the fire within burns brightly and melts away frozen souls.
the blanket of hope comforts the whole.
doesn't it make you feel good? to be lost? and warm? and without answers?
waiting and hoping and seeking...
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
introducing: Creative Kerygma
i've been making videos for a while now. i've dabbled in making worship-related videos over the last few years as well. so i thought it was about time to start sharing my creations with others.
we recently started a new alternative worship service called Kaleidoscope. the idea behind the name is 'broken pieces made beautiful.' when you look through a k-scope, you'll see fragmented glass or plastic - that when turned and pointed towards the light, something beautiful is created and formed. it's kind of the same way with man and God: when our fragmented, broken selves meet the light of Christ, something beautiful is formed.
Kaleidoscope is a multi-sensory worship encounter - aimed at providing opportunities for people to connect with God in new and fresh ways.
K-scope will become a monthly alternative worship setting starting in January.
We've had two test runs. This last one had the theme: Satisfied? for that one, i created a short film that resembles a Rob Bell-Nooma video. i will admit, his style was an inspiration - but we wanted to do something original.
So now - i aim to make, on a regular basis, more worship related films under the name Creative Kerygma. Kerygma is greek for 'Proclamation.' These films are meant to be a creative proclamation of the Gospel, in some way, shape or form.
here are the first two Creative Kerygma short films. Sheep and Shepherd. Shepherd is adapted from Sheep - if you watch them both, you'll understand.
enjoy. leave feedback or use 'em in your worship. if you use them, let me know how you used them. Thanks!
we recently started a new alternative worship service called Kaleidoscope. the idea behind the name is 'broken pieces made beautiful.' when you look through a k-scope, you'll see fragmented glass or plastic - that when turned and pointed towards the light, something beautiful is created and formed. it's kind of the same way with man and God: when our fragmented, broken selves meet the light of Christ, something beautiful is formed.
Kaleidoscope is a multi-sensory worship encounter - aimed at providing opportunities for people to connect with God in new and fresh ways.
K-scope will become a monthly alternative worship setting starting in January.
We've had two test runs. This last one had the theme: Satisfied? for that one, i created a short film that resembles a Rob Bell-Nooma video. i will admit, his style was an inspiration - but we wanted to do something original.
So now - i aim to make, on a regular basis, more worship related films under the name Creative Kerygma. Kerygma is greek for 'Proclamation.' These films are meant to be a creative proclamation of the Gospel, in some way, shape or form.
here are the first two Creative Kerygma short films. Sheep and Shepherd. Shepherd is adapted from Sheep - if you watch them both, you'll understand.
enjoy. leave feedback or use 'em in your worship. if you use them, let me know how you used them. Thanks!
shepherd (psalm 23) from Tim Beck on Vimeo.
Friday, May 15, 2009
complicated vs. simplified
Skate - Life is Complicated. Sport is Simple from howies on Vimeo.
humans. at least humans in the western world...
we tend to make things so chaotic and confusing and complicated.
we are busy. and for what? so we can make more money and buy more things and waste more time and sit on the couch in front of the television?
i say i want to be free from it all, but do i really? how much am i really willing to give up?
i'm too busy to think about that right now.
but there is a simple way that i secretly yearn for. you yearn for it to, i'd bet.
a few weeks back, my almost 4 year old daughter asked if i wanted to be a part of her 'Resting Club'. i asked her what they do in the 'Resting Club'.
her reply:
"play, read stories, make things, have a snack, rest, play some more, brush our teeth, go to bed."
sign me up.
play.
learn.
create.
eat.
rest.
repeat.
something tells me God would delight in such behavior from mankind.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Lenten 40: in the mist... comes grace
there was a grim silence this morning as i woke. the early morning mist and fog provided a backdrop of mystery. but when i stepped out of the back door and wandered into the dampness, it became eerily calm. the birds were full in song, perched high above in the tree tops, but there song did not match the environment. there was yet to be a showing of the sun, and by the looks of it, there would not be a showing today, at least not this morning. perhaps later.
i walked out into the gray. the farther i would walk, the more my appearance could, potentially, bleed into one with the grayish hues coming down, surrounding me in the midst of the rain. saturated land under foot... moist air above... it was soothing.
and now i reside inside the dryness of this brick building, with plush amenities all around. yet i feel drawn to go back out to the mist. it was in many ways refreshing.
in my current stillness, a collage of music plays softly. a collection of instrumental songs that play like a movie soundtrack, more like a real-life soundtrack. my mind is making pictures. a story is playing out in my mind. it's a story of silence and solitude... of desperation and depression. of coming hope. of grace defined.
on one side is a fast forward reflection of the joyous times, of the good times... the times we all love to remember. on the other side plays slow-motion recaptured moments of disgrace.
the moving pictures are at war. which will win out?
a calm, steady drum beat begins to mount. in my minds eye, out of the mist; out of the gray, comes a shadowy figure. he stands tall, has broad shoulders and walks with confidence. i am burdened. he sees the war within me. with all exposed, poured out as if to be examined by a scientist, he comes closer. he takes my right hand and claims the baggage that i was once holding. the bags are filled with my moments of shame and dishonor... and my moments of despair: temptations given over to sin, my piercing tongue, the loss of a friend, the death of my father... all there, disheveled, disorderly inside of my suitcase.
no words are spoken. but he looks at me. deeply. as if to look directly into my very own soul. i shy away for a second, but his hand lifts my chin. forced eye contact. awkward... that is until i saw his eyes. they were so warm. how did i miss this? he takes it all, the baggage, my baggage, and all of it's contents, and throws it over his shoulder. unexpectedly, i felt no shame.
a sigh of relief. the mist becomes cooler on my face.
he then takes my left hand... and he is opened up to a world of joy. a smile lurks from behind his shadowy self. the happy times, filled with rejoicing and gladness light up his darkened face. he shares in the memories of true happiness with me, just me. again, without saying a word it is as though he fully understands each and every joyful moment, captured in time and space within the confines of my beautiful mind. he takes his hands and lifts them high... lifting up all of the good things found within me. High and lifted up. shining in the light of his glory. the light pierces through the gray mist of the morning. his face now lit up and exposed, i saw a smile... never have i seen such a genuine smile. he then speaks his first words: "we... give... thanks!"
and with that, he lowered his hands, put his hands on my face and softly gave me an assured look of hope and with it grace fell upon me. i felt it. like a warm blanket that covered all of me. the tingling from head to tow remained as he turned and waved. slowly, he heaved my heavy bags on to his shoulders and walked out until there was no line on the horizon. the light followed him, but the mist and gray remained behind.
i felt relief. i felt free.
in my mind i heard the soft melody of a piano playing music filled with raw emotion. and i was reminded of the verse of scripture that says "God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us." [1]
through joy and pain... sunshine and rain... God walks with us. are we aware? do we see and hear? taste and touch?
my mind has now returned to my present reality. i am now compelled to leave the safety of this brick-laden building. ready to head back out into the mist, so that i can experience once more the wonderful, matchless grace of God. raining down upon me.
never forget. never forget.
[1] Acts 17:27
[inspired by the following songs:
Naked Snow - Decoder Ring
Please, Let's Try Again - Linford Detweiler
Failing Eyes - Jeff Johnson
Opus 36 - Dustin O'Halloran
Tuolumne - Eddie Vedder
Iguazu - Gustavo Santaolalla
Coloring Shoes - Explosions In The Sky
Residential Love Song - K.C. Accidental
Mark Jamming - Explosions In The Sky
Treefingers - Radiohead
Matador - Daniel Lanois
Scattered Black and Whites - Elbow
I Am So Much More Me That You Are Perfectly You - Eluvium
Glacial - Hammock
Garrison - Film School
Loosing Games - Explosions In The Sky
Half Time - Mogwai]
i walked out into the gray. the farther i would walk, the more my appearance could, potentially, bleed into one with the grayish hues coming down, surrounding me in the midst of the rain. saturated land under foot... moist air above... it was soothing.
and now i reside inside the dryness of this brick building, with plush amenities all around. yet i feel drawn to go back out to the mist. it was in many ways refreshing.
in my current stillness, a collage of music plays softly. a collection of instrumental songs that play like a movie soundtrack, more like a real-life soundtrack. my mind is making pictures. a story is playing out in my mind. it's a story of silence and solitude... of desperation and depression. of coming hope. of grace defined.
on one side is a fast forward reflection of the joyous times, of the good times... the times we all love to remember. on the other side plays slow-motion recaptured moments of disgrace.
the moving pictures are at war. which will win out?
a calm, steady drum beat begins to mount. in my minds eye, out of the mist; out of the gray, comes a shadowy figure. he stands tall, has broad shoulders and walks with confidence. i am burdened. he sees the war within me. with all exposed, poured out as if to be examined by a scientist, he comes closer. he takes my right hand and claims the baggage that i was once holding. the bags are filled with my moments of shame and dishonor... and my moments of despair: temptations given over to sin, my piercing tongue, the loss of a friend, the death of my father... all there, disheveled, disorderly inside of my suitcase.
no words are spoken. but he looks at me. deeply. as if to look directly into my very own soul. i shy away for a second, but his hand lifts my chin. forced eye contact. awkward... that is until i saw his eyes. they were so warm. how did i miss this? he takes it all, the baggage, my baggage, and all of it's contents, and throws it over his shoulder. unexpectedly, i felt no shame.
a sigh of relief. the mist becomes cooler on my face.
he then takes my left hand... and he is opened up to a world of joy. a smile lurks from behind his shadowy self. the happy times, filled with rejoicing and gladness light up his darkened face. he shares in the memories of true happiness with me, just me. again, without saying a word it is as though he fully understands each and every joyful moment, captured in time and space within the confines of my beautiful mind. he takes his hands and lifts them high... lifting up all of the good things found within me. High and lifted up. shining in the light of his glory. the light pierces through the gray mist of the morning. his face now lit up and exposed, i saw a smile... never have i seen such a genuine smile. he then speaks his first words: "we... give... thanks!"
and with that, he lowered his hands, put his hands on my face and softly gave me an assured look of hope and with it grace fell upon me. i felt it. like a warm blanket that covered all of me. the tingling from head to tow remained as he turned and waved. slowly, he heaved my heavy bags on to his shoulders and walked out until there was no line on the horizon. the light followed him, but the mist and gray remained behind.
i felt relief. i felt free.
in my mind i heard the soft melody of a piano playing music filled with raw emotion. and i was reminded of the verse of scripture that says "God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us." [1]
through joy and pain... sunshine and rain... God walks with us. are we aware? do we see and hear? taste and touch?
my mind has now returned to my present reality. i am now compelled to leave the safety of this brick-laden building. ready to head back out into the mist, so that i can experience once more the wonderful, matchless grace of God. raining down upon me.
never forget. never forget.
[1] Acts 17:27
[inspired by the following songs:
Naked Snow - Decoder Ring
Please, Let's Try Again - Linford Detweiler
Failing Eyes - Jeff Johnson
Opus 36 - Dustin O'Halloran
Tuolumne - Eddie Vedder
Iguazu - Gustavo Santaolalla
Coloring Shoes - Explosions In The Sky
Residential Love Song - K.C. Accidental
Mark Jamming - Explosions In The Sky
Treefingers - Radiohead
Matador - Daniel Lanois
Scattered Black and Whites - Elbow
I Am So Much More Me That You Are Perfectly You - Eluvium
Glacial - Hammock
Garrison - Film School
Loosing Games - Explosions In The Sky
Half Time - Mogwai]
Thursday, November 20, 2008
the art of balance (possibly part two of two)
"but is perfect balance the end goal?"
i don't know that it is. certainly lots of things in our lives need balance and stability. being a parent, i realize that my children need a stable patterns of consistency.
but i don't want my quest for balance to become some sort of idol - that consumes my every being. i think my life should be more about values than balance. my values - hopefully rooted in Christ's solid foundation - determine what really matters to me. (thanks Marko for the inspiration for this).
in my quest for balance - those rare times when life is perfectly balanced, seem to be the times when i am standing still.
i don't want to be standing still.
the gymnast, in the spot light... on the beam, 4 and a half feet off the ground - she's only truly balanced when she is standing still. Standing still is not what a gymnast was designed to do. It's her movement that amazes.
Think of a teeter-totter: i remember when i was a kid, the cool thing to do was to walk up and then down a teeter-totter. when you got to the middle, you could balance it. life and faith are filled with many peaks and valleys... just like walking up and then down the sea-saw. Using sea-saw imagery, when you're on the ground, you have to walk up the plank to reach the sky. You'll have a moment of balance in the middle before heading down to the ground again. Balance comes in between your ups & downs. Then you repeat the process all over again...
i think that if i want to be a radical follower of Jesus, i don't think i cn have long periods of perfect balance. I don't know, maybe i'm wrong or contradicting my self... But i don't see the life of Christ and his example set as being balanced. Jesus didn't map out a 'to-do' list and he didn't seem to follow a daily agenda. He just was... always doing. being. serving. loving. I'm not saying we need to be irresponsible and that we can't plan things - i'm just saying the following Jesus should be our top priority.
We are called to be faithful to Jesus... sometimes during moments of balance - but mostly during moments of craziness.
My quest is to follow no matter what the circumstances. He can provide us stability - even in the midst of an the unbalanced reality of life.
luke 18:28-30
philippians 3:17-21
i don't know that it is. certainly lots of things in our lives need balance and stability. being a parent, i realize that my children need a stable patterns of consistency.
but i don't want my quest for balance to become some sort of idol - that consumes my every being. i think my life should be more about values than balance. my values - hopefully rooted in Christ's solid foundation - determine what really matters to me. (thanks Marko for the inspiration for this).
in my quest for balance - those rare times when life is perfectly balanced, seem to be the times when i am standing still.
i don't want to be standing still.
the gymnast, in the spot light... on the beam, 4 and a half feet off the ground - she's only truly balanced when she is standing still. Standing still is not what a gymnast was designed to do. It's her movement that amazes.
Think of a teeter-totter: i remember when i was a kid, the cool thing to do was to walk up and then down a teeter-totter. when you got to the middle, you could balance it. life and faith are filled with many peaks and valleys... just like walking up and then down the sea-saw. Using sea-saw imagery, when you're on the ground, you have to walk up the plank to reach the sky. You'll have a moment of balance in the middle before heading down to the ground again. Balance comes in between your ups & downs. Then you repeat the process all over again...
i think that if i want to be a radical follower of Jesus, i don't think i cn have long periods of perfect balance. I don't know, maybe i'm wrong or contradicting my self... But i don't see the life of Christ and his example set as being balanced. Jesus didn't map out a 'to-do' list and he didn't seem to follow a daily agenda. He just was... always doing. being. serving. loving. I'm not saying we need to be irresponsible and that we can't plan things - i'm just saying the following Jesus should be our top priority.
We are called to be faithful to Jesus... sometimes during moments of balance - but mostly during moments of craziness.
My quest is to follow no matter what the circumstances. He can provide us stability - even in the midst of an the unbalanced reality of life.
luke 18:28-30
philippians 3:17-21
Thursday, November 13, 2008
art of blanace. (possibly part one of two)
Imagine you're in the middle of a jam-packed arena. It's dark - but you are about to go on... for your performance. Center of the ring, there is a long shadowy plank. The spot light illuminates what proves to be a balance beam. 4 and a half feet off the ground. 4 inches wide. 5 meters long.
It's your turn. The crowd is chanting your name. Time to go on.
One problem. You are not a gymnast. You've never performed on a balance beam. ever. But your up. It's on. Time to do your best at something you know little or nothing about. You can't fake it. You can't balance. Especially with the spotlight shining on you.
What do you do?
Such it is with life and faith. Hard to balance. Hard to manage. Seems like the spotlight is always on us, too. Like everyone is watching. The thing is, that's kind of how it really is - at least for those who "claim" to be followers of Jesus. The world is watching - waiting for us to fall off the balance beam... to skrew up.
Balance is crucial... life. school. job. faith. How can we possibly balance it all?
Learning to balance.
But should perfect balance the end goal?
It's your turn. The crowd is chanting your name. Time to go on.
One problem. You are not a gymnast. You've never performed on a balance beam. ever. But your up. It's on. Time to do your best at something you know little or nothing about. You can't fake it. You can't balance. Especially with the spotlight shining on you.
What do you do?
Such it is with life and faith. Hard to balance. Hard to manage. Seems like the spotlight is always on us, too. Like everyone is watching. The thing is, that's kind of how it really is - at least for those who "claim" to be followers of Jesus. The world is watching - waiting for us to fall off the balance beam... to skrew up.
Balance is crucial... life. school. job. faith. How can we possibly balance it all?
Learning to balance.
But should perfect balance the end goal?
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
silence of morning
birds make their songs known...
who is there to listen?
yet they still make their music loud.
proud of the melodies.
simple melodies that communicate so much.
they do it instinctively.
no matter if you or i bother to take time to listen.
even the wind can't silence them.
after a summer rain - their music intensifies...
sort of a homecoming
or a calling home.
they now have my attention.
there is something to be said about the
songs of the winged folk -
perched in trees mightily singing
for all or none to hear.
for they are not driven by others
but by God.
written early monday morning while sitting on the front porch swing... taking a moment...
who is there to listen?
yet they still make their music loud.
proud of the melodies.
simple melodies that communicate so much.
they do it instinctively.
no matter if you or i bother to take time to listen.
even the wind can't silence them.
after a summer rain - their music intensifies...
sort of a homecoming
or a calling home.
they now have my attention.
there is something to be said about the
songs of the winged folk -
perched in trees mightily singing
for all or none to hear.
for they are not driven by others
but by God.
written early monday morning while sitting on the front porch swing... taking a moment...
Thursday, March 27, 2008
even as i sit here
at this very moment, the only sounds surrounding me are the not so smooth strokes of my fingers on the keyboard and the climate-controlled air being blown out of the vent above my desk. i can't help but think how God is in this time of silence. i rather enjoy it.
this morning, while walking over across the parking lot, the smell of a skunks ripe scent clashed with the cool air of the morning. the crows cried out to the world from atop their perch. the sun wished itself upon us - but the clouds were surrounding it as if to smother it.
earlier, upon my undesired rise (for i wished to remain in a restful bliss for a bit longer) i prepared myself and attended to my typical thursday morning functions at the middle school. i arrived just after lights first appearance in the day sky above. a morning Bible study with teachers, students and youth pastors was in full swing. the discussion dealt with the company you keep. unfortunate as it was, nae a few of my youth heard the words of truth. for the company they keep, it seems kept them away from the meat of the Word this morning.
contemplation of commitment and contentment race through my mind.
peacefulness of mornings like this are ruined in the lives of the content.
even the crow is committed to his calling... if he weren't he'd perish.
i didn't want to wake up, but i'm glad i did.
so many others are hitting snooze.
am i not awake enough so that others might desire that which brings me life? why do they not want my caffeine? some are very selective... they arise when it's convenient. not the sun. not the crow. not the air, or the electric which lights my room.
even as i sit here i can't help but ask God for inner peace to spread - and may i be that vessel of peace that continues to bring Good news.
i don't really know why i am writing this.
words.
this morning, while walking over across the parking lot, the smell of a skunks ripe scent clashed with the cool air of the morning. the crows cried out to the world from atop their perch. the sun wished itself upon us - but the clouds were surrounding it as if to smother it.
earlier, upon my undesired rise (for i wished to remain in a restful bliss for a bit longer) i prepared myself and attended to my typical thursday morning functions at the middle school. i arrived just after lights first appearance in the day sky above. a morning Bible study with teachers, students and youth pastors was in full swing. the discussion dealt with the company you keep. unfortunate as it was, nae a few of my youth heard the words of truth. for the company they keep, it seems kept them away from the meat of the Word this morning.
contemplation of commitment and contentment race through my mind.
peacefulness of mornings like this are ruined in the lives of the content.
even the crow is committed to his calling... if he weren't he'd perish.
i didn't want to wake up, but i'm glad i did.
so many others are hitting snooze.
am i not awake enough so that others might desire that which brings me life? why do they not want my caffeine? some are very selective... they arise when it's convenient. not the sun. not the crow. not the air, or the electric which lights my room.
even as i sit here i can't help but ask God for inner peace to spread - and may i be that vessel of peace that continues to bring Good news.
i don't really know why i am writing this.
words.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Greatest Hits
i've been a fan of the tv show Lost since it premiered on September 22, 2004. i never miss an episode and i've watched every episode again on DVD. this January I re-watched all of Season 3 in preparation for the new season of Lost to begin. Episode 69 in the series was titled "Greatest Hits". Charlie was thinking that he was about to die so he spent some time thinking back about the highlights of his life. He then wrote them down and instructed that they be delivered to Claire.
That got me to thinking... what are my 'greatest hits?' i tried to avoid the cliche like my wedding day and the birth of my children. those days are obvious highlights - that goes without saying... i was trying to think of the kind of obscure things that have been etched in my mind... my greatest hits. i'll list mine below... (i'd encourage you to think of your 'greatest hits', too)
(in no particular order)
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Now playing: Angels And Airwaves - The Adventure
via FoxyTunes
That got me to thinking... what are my 'greatest hits?' i tried to avoid the cliche like my wedding day and the birth of my children. those days are obvious highlights - that goes without saying... i was trying to think of the kind of obscure things that have been etched in my mind... my greatest hits. i'll list mine below... (i'd encourage you to think of your 'greatest hits', too)
(in no particular order)
- Seeing George Brett at a Spring Training baseball game as part of Spring Break Road Trip - 1996
- CYF Camp 1992 - my faith becomes my own
- Watching the sunset with Jen on a hill near the softball field at Asbury College, Wilmore, KY - Aug. 1998
- Feeding Micah his first bottle 5 years ago
- Preaching at CYF in 2006
- Going to Crestline, Ohio with my Dad - to learn the family history and to see the famous Roundhouse that my grandfather used to work as an Engineer for New York Central.
- Directing my first big concert video production Ichthus '95 & '96 (Audio Adrenaline and Petra respectively)
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Now playing: Angels And Airwaves - The Adventure
via FoxyTunes
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
like panes of glass
looking up at the moon. a sliver, slightly tilted to the right.
laying on the ground... my back is pushing the grass back towards the earth.
a fire burns... the crackle and flicker tells me so. i don't need to look at the flame to know it is there.
it's cold. but not 'i-can-see-my-breath' cold.
a rustling of leaves to my left.
the whistle of the gentle breeze across my face.
the surface of the sky is black with speckles.
stars sprinkle the sky like dust scattered in the hues of evening sun.
dust in light.
stars at night.
and shavings of the moon light up the horizon.
reflected like panes of glass.
silence expanded too far in every direction.
this modern love... a portrait of an image that can not be fully grasped.
i might as well be staring at a painting in an art museum.
i look and gaze and try to see it for all it's worth. i cannot look away.
i am drawn in - searching for it's inner beauty.
trying to figure out what it is that captivates me.
i don't have an answer.
i don't need an answer.
i just need to remember that it captivates me.
i just need to remember to look at it from time to time.
i just need to remember that it is beautiful.
i connect with the canvas like the paintbrush connects with imagination.
the flickering spark catches my eye. i sit up.
shake the leaves off of my back...
and warm myself by the fire.
i am about to be drawn in again for the very first time.
laying on the ground... my back is pushing the grass back towards the earth.
a fire burns... the crackle and flicker tells me so. i don't need to look at the flame to know it is there.
it's cold. but not 'i-can-see-my-breath' cold.
a rustling of leaves to my left.
the whistle of the gentle breeze across my face.
the surface of the sky is black with speckles.
stars sprinkle the sky like dust scattered in the hues of evening sun.
dust in light.
stars at night.
and shavings of the moon light up the horizon.
reflected like panes of glass.
silence expanded too far in every direction.
this modern love... a portrait of an image that can not be fully grasped.
i might as well be staring at a painting in an art museum.
i look and gaze and try to see it for all it's worth. i cannot look away.
i am drawn in - searching for it's inner beauty.
trying to figure out what it is that captivates me.
i don't have an answer.
i don't need an answer.
i just need to remember that it captivates me.
i just need to remember to look at it from time to time.
i just need to remember that it is beautiful.
i connect with the canvas like the paintbrush connects with imagination.
the flickering spark catches my eye. i sit up.
shake the leaves off of my back...
and warm myself by the fire.
i am about to be drawn in again for the very first time.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
a playlist / a worship experience (how will you find God in the music?)
You may or may not know that I am a Youth Pastor in Ohio. Every year - we take our group to some cottages on Atwood Lake for a Fall Retreat. This year's theme was H2o.
our goals being:
Hang Time with God -
develop Habits that'll change our Lives
discover Ordinary ways to connect with God.
I burned a playlist onto a CD and gave it to the youth a week or so in advance so that they could import it onto their Mp3 players. Then on Saturday morning - the youth were given 65 minutes (the length of the CD) to listen to the songs and work through a sort-of workbook that went along with the music. Each song had a page with pictures, scriptures, questions, comments and lyrics. They were encouraged to 'seek God' and to 'find Him' in the music.
Needless to say - this was the highlight of the weekend for most of the teens. It allowed them a time to creatively express their emotions and to connect the dots to see where God is in those moments that make up their complex, yet purposeful lives.
I truly believe that God uses unexpected things in order to speak to people. He spoke to Moses through a burning bush... to Balaam through a donkey...to Elijah through a gentle whisper. To many of today's youth - He speaks to them through the music... or through film... or through art. God is alive and kicking, moving and breathing life into the things that surround us.
Below are 14 posts that correlate with the 14 tracks of the H2O cd. Each image was created in Photoshop by me (sized 8x10 @ 180dpi). The pictures used were found in a variety of places... some were pictures that my wife or I took, others were found via friends on my blog roll... others were found randomly. I've tried to cite what I could and have provided links to assist in further study.
Enjoy them. Let me know how you find God... or how he finds you... in the music... in the images and in the lyrics.
God bless.
Track 3: Deas Vail - A Lover's Charm
further information found at YouAreBeautiful.
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Now playing: Deas Vail - A Lover's Charm
via FoxyTunes
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