reign/rain. (lost journal entry from oct 31, 2008 - 2pm)

i've collected and filled (some partial, some entirely) a handful of journals over the years. most of the journals are used for brainstorming. lately, i've been looking through some of them. i figured i'd take a picture of some entries and then blog about it.

[the following journal entry was written while in the midst of 'worship' during a Youth Specialties training event in Pittsburgh in 2008]


worship music plays... it's praise... it's God centered.
i don't feel like raising my hands
my arms are crossed...am i wrestling with something?
what am i waiting on?

"God with us... mighty to save"

voices raised... not mine. contemplative and silent.
that is my voice right now.
'Blah' is the word to describe me.

foot begins to tap.

i think i need to express myself.

it's like i've discovered a poem written by hand in a book --
but it is not my own. i'm borrowing the words.
are they someone i know? are they psalms of David?

"You are God with us, you are victorious, you are strong and mighty to save.
for your word stands true -- there is none like you. and when all else fails you remain."

when all else fails... why do we wait until all else fails? stupid human nature waiting... not on God - but on all of the other options to fail.

same mistakes repeated.

dumb. stubborn. silly. full of ourselves. unable to be filled by God.

glass full of water.
add water of God and it spills on to the ground. wasted. not in us. we are full. of it. not Him.

no room for God. no room for God to reign.
also, then, no room for His love + grace to 'rain' down on us/in us. we are full. can't experience the filling of God's grace reigning + raining onto + into us and our soul.





[my scribbled notes - tucked into a free journal i received while attending this youth workers convention in 2008.]

of happy trails and morning ails (or what trees would tell me if they could talk)

there's a stretch of trail that runs a few miles here and a few miles there out on the edge of town. it's an old Nickelplate railroad path - with the tracks now removed. i've been down this trail many times... on foot and on bike. this morning, the trail was nearing the end of a life cycle, giving it's all - breathing out color and at the same time, expunging its last bit of air. the outgoing air was fuel to my feet and legs. it wasn't energy-burning fuel. i was breathing in consistency.

i soaked it all in. i drank it up. the mental image of the long trail, coated with leaves, sun soaked and damp from the morning dew has now been forever ingrained within my mind. the fall foliage served as a playground for the birds of the air and the hidden creatures of the ground.

what is it that makes creation so spectacular? the cycle is repeated; the seasons the same. the sun rises and sets everyday. the gladdening light shines upon the land. the wind blows. the leaves fall. the flowers and trees die and then spring to life again every year. this is nothing new. what is it about nature that seems so fresh - when we take the time to engage with it?

like a forgotten friend, the trail is there. waiting for me. for you. for us - to take to the path - to set ablaze the road. to leave our footprints on its terrain - as if to serve as a sign of our temporary engagement. the rocks cry out and rejoice, thankful for our presence.

there is a connection between the earth and man. perhaps because we once came from the dust.

the trail of beauty was a trail of its own demise - its impending death continually serving a purpose, a necessity of nature and of the world. its necessity breeds my fidelity, ability, propensity and supremacy. i conquered the trail with invigorated steps.

to be at one with nature is a beautiful thing. to connect with a Higher power through the chill of the morning air, the color of the fallen leaves, through the words and lyrics of my iPod companion - it made for an experience to be embraced.

and i embraced it.

soon, the death of nature will be covered in white. my moment this morning will sustain me until the coming spring.

sing to me a melody: of ticking clocks and ocean spray...

[just some thoughts after spending a week sitting on the shoreline of the Atlantic. written about a month ago]

[p.s. i'm certainly no poet... this was just free expression]






the waves come and go. come and go.
with the consistency of a clock ticking.
only the tides precede countable time…
the ticking of clocks.
the passing of second hands and the like.

seashells roll. broken and chiseled and colorful.
what stories do they tell?
where have they been? how were they broken?
finding the needle in the haystack - that select one…
that is the game for the searcher.

the rain drops fall down - but when in the water - you don't feel them.
it's as if the ocean spray is cooling your head.
with consistency and trajectory.
whipping winds appear fierce but are gentle at heart.
something beautiful is on the horizon.

at dusk - just before giving up on the day
it appeared. bright and shining.
casting silhouettes and shadows
the western sunset; broken through
what was grey now full of life.

a long walk along the incoming waters.
warm to the feet. pleasantly mild.
footprints along the shore line.
every seven seconds, it covers the sand like a blanket.
growing bigger. pushing forward.

every moment is new. fresh to the senses.
an ocean morning, noon and night.
it comes and goes, comes and goes
and if you're not careful, you'll miss its point.
soak it up. soak it in. you'll regret it later when it's gone.

random musings from our stay in the hospital while my wife gave birth to our third child

4/27/09/7:25pm
Aultman Hospital WiFi Hotspot near the cafe on floor 1R

just some thoughts that are unrelated to the fact that our third child, Silas was born this morning @ 9:31am.

I don’t know what it is about Hospitals. I feel safe here - yet also feel as though one could get sick here.
it’s eerily quiet at this moment. i am on the mezzanine level of the Bedford Entrance to the hospital.
Florescent lights shine brighter than the sun.
that sense of falseness makes one need to go outside with quickness.
i’ve been outside for a few moments here and there today and it was so warm. the sun could not be consumed enough. looking out the window, a window that does not open was almost torture. yet i feel interested here. i could work here, just not as a doctor. seeing that i do not like blood. it’s permanent daylight. there are parts of the building that know not night.
the lights do not go out here. ever. the building is never empty. the doors have locks - but i suppose for no real reason.

right now a security guard makes his rounds. Available for help or assistance or there just to provide peace to all.

yet i thought about the service aspect of being a doctor or nurse.
what a career. a career of service. yeah, they get paid. yeah, it’s a job. yeah, yeah, yeah. but their job... the job they chose is to serve others. sick, nasty, gross, infected, diseased, dirty, sweaty, broken people. that is how it feels to be in the hospital, i presume. you don’t come here if you are healthy.
there are now two guys driving floor mopping 3 wheeled carts, indoors, waxing the floor (poetic). i’d say they cruise at speeds up to 8 mph. back and forth they go. men on a mission. in their wax cars. looking for dirt to mop up. or perhaps on an evening drive. top down and all. except indoors. in a climate controlled facility.
they make floors shiny. a raw form of service. making the hospital as pleasant looking as possible. in small ways, that means a lot to those who come here for a visit or for a procedure. peace of mind begins with a shiny floor. i suppose.
how hard it is to serve others. how hard it is to truly be in the mindset from sun up til sun down. paid or not. service is service.
yeah, you can serve with a humble heart and still get paid. every man has a right to making a living in the way he/she sees fit.
that is why plumbers and doctors make good money. cuz who you gonna call in the middle of the night when the toilet is stopped up and your drain pipe is clogged? and where you gonna go when your (internal) pipes are broken? to the only place where you can be fixed.
two amish men just walked past. they seem happy. i wonder what a conversation with them would be like. it appears that they know their needs and their need-nots. they know how to serve and to be served. no pride creeping in, i suppose.
as i waste time while jen and baby are tended to by friendly nurse nicole, i’ll write for a few more minutes and then return to the room.
maybe i’ll just enjoy the silence and think about what it means to truly serve and how that might look in my day to day life.
p.s. i just noticed that my seating arrangement here is right underneath a security camera.
somewhere in the back rooms of this hospital that never sleeps, there is a security guard watching me type about how he serves this place.










day 2: 825pm
analogy: baby in utero - you can feel him move, feel him living within; a deep connection between mother and child that can’t be expressed in words (such a deep connection, many woman go into post-partum depression after baby is birthed), you can know what new life really is all about. you are reformed, reshaped, stretched, tugged at, filled up, uncomfortable, comforted, in love and loved

faith in Jesus (true, relational faith): you can feel him move, feel him deep within. you are connected in a way that can’t be fully expressed with words. you are stretched. your state of being is tugged and pulled and challenged. your heart is reshaped, reformed, filled up, comforted, in love and fully loved.

day 3: 4pm
unwavering trust. (thoughts from jen)
our newborn child. he looks at us expecting his needs to be met. and they are. comfort and care. nourishment, hospitality. warmth.
unwavering trust. do i look to Jesus with the same kind of trust?

it was quiet in the lobby. quiet in the halls. the florescent lights still shine bright. reflecting off of the floor. but quiet. is 4pm normally that still? like a mid day break for all.
there are paintings in the lobby near the cancer center. canvas paintings and mixed art creations of survivors and fighters of cancer. every time i walk by i feel compelled to stop and look. i owe it to them to look. they deserve it. i am moved by art. moved by the stories above each image.
the health care worker deserves much respect. i do not like blood or the sight of blood or internal things or the cutting of skin or shots or getting blood drawn or anything else i may have forgotten. yet, i am drawn to the hospital care worker. giving equal to one and all. equal. that is amazing. i am realistic enough to know that for many or for few it can be, at times, just a job. but i’d have to believe that it takes a special person to work in a hospital.
our latest nurse likes to laugh. the other is freakishly tall. both are pleasant and very helpful.

watching Champions League soccer for the second day, yest. saw Chelsea draw 0-0 with Barcelona. Today, Man U is up 1-0 on Arsenal. [this is leg 1 of the semifinals]


finished A Generous Orthodoxy last nite. i feel good. things are coming together in my mind. now if only i can figure out how to process it all and how to express what is inside me to put to use in practical, everyday life and ministry.



day 4: 9:57am
from an interview with Rob Bell by Christianity Today. April 22, 2009 on their web site.
http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2009/april/26.34.html?start=2
CT: All well and good, but how is this good news to people with no earthly hope? If I'm dying of aids or cancer, I probably don't give a rip about the renewal of all things. I want to know if my sins are forgiven, and when I die, if am I going to see Jesus or not.

RB: “Yes, and I would say that central to that new creation is the problem with the first creation—death. The Resurrection is about God dealing with the death problem. And central to this giant cosmic hope is a very intimate, yes, you can trust this Jesus. You can trust this new creation. You can trust being with him when you die, when you leave this life, however you want to put it. Yes, there is an intensely personal dimension to this giant story that you and I get to be a part of.”

i love that. “you can trust this Jesus. You can trust this new creation.
one more Rob Bell quote from that interview with CT:
I would say that for 10 years, I have tried to invite people to trust Jesus. You can trust this Jesus. You can trust him past, present, future; sins, mistakes, money, sexuality. I think this Jesus can be trusted.


end transmission. end hospital thoughts.

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]

Lazy Eye (an experiment in free expression)

notes related to the song
Lazy Eye - Silversun Pickups

The other day, i was in Starbucks, and I had my iTunes on shuffle when one of my favorite songs of the moment came on, Lazy Eye by the Silversun Pickups. as i listened to the opening guitar riff, i opened up Word and decided to type down whatever thoughts came to mind as i listened. I’ve done this before a time or two… i call it FREE EXPRESSION. i find that Free Expression helps me connect with my inner being and as a result - i often write down things that inspire me. it can definately be a time for me to connect with God. (i’ve posted my Lazy Eye-inspired thoughts below)

At Coffee Talk (a youth gathering that meets every 6 weeks as part of our youth ministry) on Sunday, October 19th, the Senior High group talked about ways in which we can connect with God in the midst of our busy lives. At the end, i played this song - and asked them to free their minds and just allow God to speak to them - not necessarily through the lyric - but through the rhythms.

(i challenge you to try this with any song)

...my thoughts

FREE EXPRESSION… from 10.10.08

Waiting.

Thinking that someday things will be perfect. It never seems to happen. Or does it? Have i missed it? Have I missed the perfection? has my lazy eye – my imperfection got the best of me? Or has my perception of perfection changed?

Wanting silence. Its too loud. Too much chaos. To many distractions… but I like it… deep down I do. Sadly I do. But really – I crave silence. A time to be alone with my thoughts. But no time.

So I move on.

The music plays. The rhythms come and go. I miss the beat. Feel like I am missing out on something greater. I want to be a part of something greater. I really do.

Gotta get my chance. Gott move.

But the song continues without me. Is it possible for the song to lead to silence? That is backwards, it would seem. The rhythm would lead to more rhythm, no? or is it possible for the rhythm to lead to peace. Can rhythm be a part of my silence?

Like is shawshank redemption? Is the music in my heart and mind? Is that the real rhythm I crave? A rhythm found in the slilence? That rthym giving off hope? Hope that there is something better… something majestic out there for me to encounter?

Where does that hope come from, I need to ask.

Lost in the feedbck of guitars. Symbolic of my life. Lost in the feedback and chaos of life.

Kinda like being lost…. Deep down I hope it will lead me somewhere… out of the darkness of the forest… out of the trees to a green patch of terrain – filled with lilies and beautiful flowers.

That is the hope of rhythm that I crave.

God is there, I feel it.

(notes – free expression while listening to Lazy Eye – by the Silversun Pickups – 9:46am – oct 10, 2008 – starbucks @ washington square.)

thoughts while watching the sunrise from the parking lot of a shopping complex PART 2

[on friday morning, August 15 i took my sister to the airport at 6am - so that she could catch a flight back home to Portland, Maine. rather than driving all the way home - i decided to 'kill' some time early in the morning until 9:30am - when i had to pick up something from Best Buy. i had over 3 hours to fill and i was really tired because i stayed up late the night before watching the Olympics. the following is PART TWO of "Free Expression" writing. i decided to look for potential God moments as I sat inside a Starbucks.]

Sitting in Starbucks now. The atmosphere is inviting. Jovial. Sunny. Literally. The morning sun is shining in through the pane of glass. Old soul music flares up over the speakers above my head.

Already I am allowing myself to get distracted from the surroundings. Trying to get on their internet connection.

Let me take a moment to observe.
Original art pieces decorate the walls. Cd’s for sale next to coffee in bags. Architecture that is edgy and clean. Promotional materials. Baristas… with green aprons… no one with the coveted black one. People walking in and out… one woman with a baby. Now a line has formed. Outside of the windows – sitting in the sun are a number of patrons. One woman is reading the newspaper. Four old men sit outside with their coffee conversing about football or the weather or politics or what ever. A co-worker adds supplies to the closet. A business man works hard crunching numbers. “have a big order? Call ahead. 330-494-0454” “Komodo Dragon = $13.45/lb. On my wobbly table sits a vase with a plastic banana in it. There must be some sort of jungle theme going on here as a paper mache monkey resembling Curious George sits on a display case.

I can pick up a number of pay-to-use wifi signals. TA truck stop is across the highway and I can pick it up here. T-Mobile here at starbucks and Att net.

Different people talk on their cell phone. It’s early for that. 7:53 now.

Where is God in this moment?
In the conversation.
In the contemplative thought of the man in the oversized comfy chair.
In the music that plays.
In the inner-tangling of my cords… ear buds and apple power adapter.
In the Rob Bell video I am now watching.
In the sun that shines through onto my fingertips.
In the slow, quiet walk I envision doing when I get home..
In the beauty of every person who walks though the door.
In the Vivanno Nourishing Blend non-smoothie that provides energy and protein and fiber powder and whole banana.
In my Peppermint mocha that my wife introduced me to – therefore hooking me on coffee blends mostly from Starbucks… and sometimes Speedway.
In the word ‘Sacrifice.’
In the act of obeying God that Abraham shown us.
In the contemplative thought of the man in the oversized comfy chair who is now sleeping.
In the palm tree.
In the art and the music. In the architecture. In the refection that I see with my peripheral vision. A truck just drove by. A person enters. Reflections… reflect.
Beauty.

thoughts while watching the sunrise from the parking lot of a shopping complex PART 1

[on friday morning, August 15 i took my sister to the airport at 6am - so that she could catch a flight back home to Portland, Maine. rather than driving all the way home - i decided to 'kill' some time early in the morning until 9:30am - when i had to pick up something from Best Buy. i had over 3 hours to fill and i was really tired because i stayed up late the night before watching the Olympics. the following is PART ONE of "Free Expression" writing. i decided to look for potential God moments as i parked my car in a parking lot minutes before dawn.]



The world is watching. To my left, out the car window, sitting in the parking lot at the Strip, a major shopping complex in northwest stark county, are a number of video surveillance cameras. Watching. Me. I almost didn’t notice.

They are always there. We go on in our daily lives… we don’t even notice. But they are everywhere. My life is too busy to notice.

The oher day – while on vacation, my son, micah and I were riding around lakeside in a glof cart. It was early evening… and he noticed something that we don’t often hear… a chirping noise… almost musical, he called the sound. “what is it?”

Crickets, I said.

We had a conversation about crickets. Why do they make music? Where are they? Are they nocturnal? Yeah – he used the words nocturnal. How did he know that word? Are they nocturnal like skunks? Why do skunks stink?

We went to the cottage and went to bed.

A day or two or three later, I had long forgotten about the cricket conversation. When micah asked me again about crickets. I told him, we have already talked about this. He said, in the middle of the day, mind you, again about crickets.

Why do you ask? I said. “Because I hear one but it’s not night time.” He forgot to go to bed.

Crickets. Always around us. Making music. Mostly at night. But not always.
They are all around us… making music…
but we don’t hear it. It blends in with the rest of the chaos that is around us.

The music is all around us.

Are we tuned in to the wrong frequency?



God is all around us. Watching us. Trying to get our attention.