Faithless Are The Skies.

WJGTTBG? (Would Jesus Go To The Braves Game?)

2009-04-29T08:30:00.000-07:00

Standing in line for an 8 dollar hot dog, paying the exorbitance to the minimum-wage earning thirty-something who seems (and looks) like he's seen better days, feeling unsatisfied after finishing the food for which I had emptied my wallet just minutes earlier, and loathing myself for sitting, staring fascinated by broken men who are payed far too much (see the hot dog price above) to play a game and cheat on their wives and use steroids, roaring with the crowd as I lose my identity in a mob a little too much like Rome.

These are my thoughts at the Braves game last night, and the inescapable sense of discomfort was my punishment for an ardent prayer to see things as Jesus would have seen them, and now I can't shake that feeling of confusion.

What's worse? I really enjoyed myself.

The price of a baseball or movie ticket, a television subscription, a hot dog, what does it mean? Where does it go? We complain and smack our heads and scoff about the ridiculous lives led by the celebrated in our community of entertainment, we bow our heads in prayer and thank God that we are not like them, that we are better in so many ways for not being caught up in that lifestyle. We do not know ourselves, to be able to deceive each other and our own hearts so well. Every hot dog I buy, every game I attend, every movie of an out-of-control actress I go to see, I put that life in their hands. I celebrate everything I am against when I put my wallet and my time (the two things closest to all of our hearts) towards that version of life, a version, I think we all at least claim to agree that is less authentic than the Jesus version. I'm scared because I can't stop, and I really don't even want to. This is one of those times that it would be noce to hear the direct voice of Jesus, I need another Sinai....

Love.

Escha-wha?

2009-04-09T06:29:00.000-07:00

Eschatology - A part of theology and philosophy concerned with what is believed to be the final events in the history of the world, or the ultimate destiny of humanity, commonly referred to as the end of the world. More broadly, eschatology may encompass related concepts such as the Messiah or Messianic Age, the end time, and the end of days.

But what if when Jesus preached “The kingdom of heaven is near,” he meant in it the way where we usually speak of places or things being near, and not as a code for the installation of God’s sovereignty on earth being imminent. Where is the place or object of the kingdom that Jesus, preached, then? Impossible to plot on a map, impossible to settle in or establish economy with, it must not exist, we say. Our continents, our oceans, our orbit is all we know. We see the stars and moons but they are not near, and such a concept would have never done for those Palestinians of the first century, anyhow.

Jesus knew a very present, very penetrating reality of the kingdom of God that was seeping through the cracks of our own world, ever attempting to infiltrate our own reality. His language was eschatological, speaking of an alternate kingdom being established, but it did not point anywhere far-off (such as the distant future), because both of his ideas of “The kingdom is near” and “Do not worry about tomorrow” reminded his followers that no good will come of us wasting energy on things to come. “Seek ye first the kingdom,” says Jesus. Today. It’s near. He wasn’t kidding. We become obsessed with ideas of future grandeur and exciting times to come, and while in no way do I deny the coming peace of Jesus, nor that we will see him again, I honestly doubt that is what he wanted us to have conferences about, seminars on, and money put towards. Our time is wasted by our obsession with the future. People die of hunger while we try to interpret signs. Peace fails when we discredit it with ideas of a coming tribulation and inescapable war. Our love for Jesus becomes a love for fantasy as he is speculated upon instead of lived out.

So I propose a new eschatology, one that has relevance and passion. Let us live like the kingdom is near, constantly attempting to break into our own world, and not fearful of a sudden strike of justice at an appointed and mysterious time. We need to give Jesus the credit he deserves for what he said about the kingdom. It was not near in time, it was not near in space, but it was near in every enemy that he loved, and every foot that he washed. When Jesus prayed, he prayed “Your kingdom come, your will be done.” I doubt that prayer included ideas as narrow as his people sitting and waiting for thousands of years for “the kingdom.” The kingdom is here, near, everywhere. Let us capture it, let us increase it, let us beg to see more of it.

Love.

Sate Hitam Satyam

2009-01-08T08:26:00.000-08:00

"That which brings us closer."

There is an extremely interesting variation of the idea of truth in the East, and in Sanskrit the word used most often for truth is "satya", a word that means something along the lines of "unchangeable", "impermeable in time, space and person". The use of this word in eastern philosophy is taken in the context of something that which pervades the universe in all its constancy. Truth.

The word satya comes mainly from the phrase, Sate Hitam Satyam, proclaiming that truth is "whatever brings us closer to Sat", the Ultimate Truth, a name that we would probably bestow upon Yahweh or Jesus. So what could we learn from this idea? In our world of matter and history, in our patterns of skepticism and factuality, what can we learn about a different form of truth? There is something old here, archaic and primal. We believe in parables because they display a small part of the truth of God, something we can't fully understand, and we use these stories or lies (as our modern skeptics would call them) to explain something that may not be factual or historical, but deeply true all the same. Truth is that which leads us closer to the Ultimate Truth, be it a story or history, an intangible emotion or the soda can in front of you. Our reality becomes less real as satya penetrates our hearts, and the Truth will set us free from it.

real love.

You may be, but I wasn't. Are we thinking like this?

2009-01-02T07:58:00.000-08:00

The awareness that the Bible became sacred scripture over a period of centuries has implications for our understanding of it's origin, status, and authority. To speak of the Bible as sacred addresses not its origin but its status within a religious community. Any document is sacred only because it is sacred for a particular community....
...To see the Bible as sacred in status and not origin also leads to a different way of seeing the authority of the Bible. The older, conventional way of seeing the Bible grounded scripture's authority in its origin: the Bible was sacred because it came from God. The result was a monarchical model of biblical authority. Like an ancient monarch, the Bible stands over us, telling us what to believe and do. But seeing the Bible as sacred in status leads to a different model of biblical authority. Rather than being an authority standing above us, the Bible is the ground of the world in which Christians live.
The result: the monarchical model of biblical authority is replaced by a dialogical model of biblical authority. In other words, the biblical canon names the primary collection of ancient documents with which Christians are to be in a continuing dialogue. This continuing conversation is definitive and constitutive of Christian identity. If the dialogue ceases or becomes faint, then we cease to be Christian and become something else. Thus the authority of the Bible is its status as our primary ancient conversational partner.

A Reality Risen

2008-12-30T06:54:00.000-08:00

I was at a funeral for the father of a friend that I love, and we talked briefly about the resurrection. I try not to think too much about those things, because my brain usually just ends up hurting, but last night it seemed important. My mind slipped in and out of thoughts that concerned our own resurrection, thoughts that tried to explain Jesus', and thoughts about the overlying reality that is our God. We all can agree, I think, that there is something more to our lives than matter and energy, those physics-esque words that dominate our modern worldview. There is a power there, hidden to our eyes, but when felt, it becomes more of a reality than the one that we can smell, touch, hear and see. This is no latent power, but a benevolent reality on which the universe finds its support, its being. This sacred realm seems to be constantly creating, blessing, upholding. It wills us to understand that the are things more solid than the massive, more real than that which has mass or density. We can begin to understand these things by realizing how certain decisions (or every decision, for that matter) can alter courses of life in a way that no object ever could. We see how grief can put a weight on your soul, and how love can set that weight aside. These things, they are more real than any solid object, yet we cannot touch them. These are brushstrokes in the painting of the divine reality, that presence and personality that we give many names: God, Yahweh, Allah, the Spirit, Brahman, and those are only a few. So back to the resurrection, the crux of this writing. I have always been confused by the idea of a physical resurrection, as in a resurrection in which our flesh and bones are the same as they were before. Christians now use the phrase "perfected", and they talk about how our bodies will be the same, but better. That didn't help me in my confusion. But then I started looking at how Paul wrote about the risen Jesus, whom he saw, yet who was not "there" in the way we understand someone being right there with you. Paul writes about a mystic encounter in which he experiences a risen reality, something more real than a stone right in front of him, something that has become a living part of that personality that sustains and creates him, and loves him all the time. The resurrection may be flesh and bones, but that is almost too boring for me now. I rely on a God that will raise me into His reality, not raise me back into my own after I sink into death. The resurrection is more than renewal, more than starting over, it's about getting where we are heading, and being as real and as powerful as love, something which, incidentally, we are compelled to give anyway.
Love.

A deep breath

2008-12-08T08:07:00.000-08:00

Out of Thailand. Out of Malaysia. Out of Hong Kong. Out of Ethiopia. Out of Cote D'Ivoire. Home in Ghana.

The events that precipitated from last week's Thailand scenario were probably uninteresting enough to most, and enough to give even Fracis of Asisi some beef with God, though out of every beef, they say, comes reconciliation. We were seemingly stranded, much like the 300,000 others stuck in Thailand, and my heart was hurting to see people that I loved, who were already going through enough trouble to help me out of Asia.

I arrived flustered and frustrated, angry at no one in particular that Michael was leaving the country five minutes after we landed, I had just enough time to hug his neck at the airport in passing. The days have gone by and I have discovered, as you will over and over, that there is no catch up needed here. You simply just pick up where you left off, making friends, loving folks, living. Days running errands, playing with sweet kids, holding dog funerals (pour one out for Peanut). Nights helping Maggie with math, talking and going on walks with Claire, watching cartoons with Luke, it takes a whole lot to get better than sharing a house with these folks who I claim as my own.

Every now and then, God calls me to set aside study and theology and dissection, and love what is right in my face. I'm trying.

The Long and Winding Road

2008-11-30T18:05:00.000-08:00

So Thailand recently put in a new Prime Minister, and that fact just doesn't seem to sit well with a lot of people in the country. There is a lot of protesting going on, and some government officials have lost their lives over the conflict. The rioters' aim was to close the Bangkok airport, and it worked. So instead of flying into Bangkok yesterday afternoon, we flew into a military base two hours outside the city at about midnight and got on a bus headed for some park downtown in Bangkok. We found a place to sleep quickly and now, we wait, because we still have to catch a flight in two days to Ethiopia and then on to Ghana. The airport remains closed and Ethiopian airways remains deaf to my many calls, but I do know this: I am going to get to Ghana. I may have to take a train to Hong Kong and fly from there, or find another way out of this country, but I won't stay here long. A selfish and childish (and big) part of me needs Ghana, the land and the people I love in it, and that is enough to get me anywhere. A need to go home is always good enough to get you out of anywhere, at any time.

love.

Examples

2008-11-26T13:17:00.000-08:00

Here are two examples for the importance of realizing the role of authorship and context in our Book...

There exist two creation stories in the book of Genesis, the first in Genesis 1 and the second in Genesis 2 and 3. The first is a story about seven days, and how the creation of humanity was the climax of that creation act, and then God rests. The second story tells about how man was created, and all of the animals were made to then find him companionship, then of the creation of woman, and then of the deceit of a serpent. If you read these one after the other, you realize that they are not in agreement about the scientific fact of the way the world was made, however, Israel found them both to be very true, they had no use for theories on the science of creation. The interesting thing about these two is that the second story, about man and woman and the fall, is about 500 years older in origin than the story in chapter 1. The second story finds its origins in a time in Israel's history when many women were turning to a serpentine Canaanite god of fertility, although that is obviously not the only lesson to be learned from the story. The first story is rooted in the exile in Babylon, and seems to be in the form of a praise song ("on the first day...and it was good...") and places a great importance on a day of rest, which even God does. That story also helped Israel preserve the Sabbath as an important part of Jewish culture, when they were becoming lost in the culture and religion of Babylon.

This was all very interesting to me when I learned such things, but I had little use for it. How does ancient Israeli culture impact me in real life? But then I realized, that's kind of the point. Whether these stories ever "actually" (historically) happened or not, they are as true, or possibly more so, than I had ever imagined. I am able to access them in my own life and see them in a more relevant way now that I know I am not just reading a possible account of history, I am reading a message that reveals things about God that other words could not express. As Rob Bell says, these things are important not because they happened, but because they happen.

love.

My Biased Book

2008-11-25T14:51:00.000-08:00

I don't feel comfortable with the way that I have read the Bible for maybe the first 5 years of my trying to know Jesus (the 6th year being this one). I saw too much of what I wanted to see and I inferred too much of what I wanted to hear from it. It became a self help book, and I would read it to make myself feel better, like some genie that I could rub the lamp of and have a little certainty. I ignored constantly the inconsistencies that haunted my subconscious daily, the choice by us moderns to uphold only certain Levitical laws and our ardent defense of them, the images painted sometimes of a wrathful, murderous god by the ancient Hebrews, and most of all, the false Jesus that has been presented to the world for nigh a thousand years.

I began to want to go back, to know more about these pages that I claimed to love, the ones that disturbed me beyond any other truth that I claimed. I searched back historically, culturally, and into the ancient perspective (worldview). Here are just a few things that I realized, and then everything began to change...

-The Bible was not known as one book (litterally what 'bible' means) until Gutenberg, and the scriptures were all separate documents, not usually even grouped together, and identified with specific authors with specific agendas in writing them, while the idea of one book makes it very easy to see it as written by one Author, God. No one thought this until the 15th century.

-The Ancient writing style was vastly metaphorical, not because the topics did not deserve the truth, but that they understood the truth to be much more than historical fact, and they had much less use for that kind of data than we, who live in a completely scientific age.

-While we break every passage into verses and analyze every word, the writers of such books were much more, if not only, concerned with the overall story, as was their style of oral tradition, and the message from a story was much more important than any verse we could pull out and glorify (something in John 3, maybe?)

-Things like the levitcal laws were rules for their culture to live in harmony, and as Marcus Borg would put it, "the ten commandments did not take divine genius to think of, they exist in every ancient culture, they are simple rules for people to get along." It follows therein that the bible, especially the Old Testament, is not the historical fact of every divine act and proof of God's sole favor of Israel, but a cultural response of a community that knew God and recognized (sometimes) what He was doing with them, and made mistakes too.

more later. love.

Things that I really like.

2008-11-24T15:14:00.000-08:00

1. When TV shows dont go to commercial after the opening song
2. Oranges that you can peel in one unbroken piece
3. p-700 series pens
4. when hardback books come with the ribbon-bookmark
5. houses with pianos in them
6. Rain at sunset
7. plain oatmeal
8. doing things late at night
9. nice bus drivers
10. handwritten letters
11. starting traditions
12. The Beatles
13. skateboarding when it's really cold
14. a farmer's tan

Postmodernism Pt. 2

2008-11-21T14:29:00.000-08:00

So we left off with something pretty insubstantial, but still potentially consequential. Before we jump too far ahead, Let's take a minute to pause and wave good-bye to the modern mindset as it passes...

To understand exactly what made us modern (that is to say, the patterns that we tried to hold on to as a culture while still ultimately moving away from), we can look at the ways that we organized thought and did things after leaving Medievality. Moderns love to put things into mechanical terms, and rightfully so, this being the most advanced age of mechanical understanding yet. For every input, there should have been an output. Law of physics were secure, economics had set rules and formulas, democracy was broken down into group, percentages, and fractions. Our understanding of ideas and words fit snugly into this paradigm. The modern age was the most legalistic age by far, not only in the everyday world, but vastly in the world of the church. Christians believed that the Bible was truth, so truth must only come from the Bible, an equal and opposite reaction. It was all very secure in its structure. Never before (nor again) had any epoch in humanity made so much sense, mechanically.

So why are we not in this age anymore? I think we can all feel it, but let's go deeper. Quantum physics and Einstein and Hawking's theories are uncovering every day how vastly unpredictable the universe is, on micro and macro levels. The wiki-age has made our nice columns of information in tangible hardbacks a thing of the past, and bringing along a new definition of truth. Christians are starting to see truth (that is, beauty) in things beyond the walls of their own Bible, which was Modern heresy. We can find the Quran moving and the poetry of Sufi elegant and heartwrenching. There is no longer one output for one input, the age of empiricism and nationalism is dying, the world is shrinking, we are forging new social norms, new mores and folkways. We obviously can't define postmodernism at all yet, the name alone is evidence, we are simply beginning to understand that it is something after-modernism. We are still the ashes that will give birth to a new phoenix after the slow burn of the Modern worldview, but that is a start.

Postmodernism Part 1

2008-11-21T00:12:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I didn't want to jump straight back into the cynical dwellings on all of the shortcomings of daily life during my first post back, but now that I have the cheesy stuff out of the way, let's dive...

I have found a new vent (one actually might call it a stormgutter) for the frustration granted to me by my crumbling worldview, and I would like to call it the postmodern worldview. For those of you who aren't really sure what that is, as I wasn't, or for those of you who aren't into that sort of thing, allow me to explain. There come certain times in societal history when our current worldview (the modern worldview having been established about 450 years ago) can no longer bear the weight of so many addenda and footnotes that an entire new view must be constructed. The modern view replaced the medieval view of the universe as a series of concentic spheres around the earth, ascending in perfection. Travel, information, commerce and government were all being vastly liberated by advances in technology and theory. We live in a similar time, our picture of the way things work is changing, from social justice (in the past 50 years) to the internet to air travel to quantum physics, it is becoming increasingly difficult to support the modern worldview by simply adding on to it all the time. What is the solution?

The solution is the same as it was during the transition from prehistory to ancient, from ancient to medieval, and from medieval to moder: build a new one from scratch. The idea of a postmodern worldview frightens us and angers us sometimes, but it is necessary (especially for something like the church) to continue to be effective in a society that is vastly becoming, for the lack of a better term postmodern. Let's not blow this off as a small change. In the words of Brian Mclaren, "Everything must change."

Weird!

2008-11-17T20:21:00.000-08:00

So I took a year off of blogging, everyone needs a little hiatus, and I usually need about six times the amount of everyone else, some kind of deficiency in my blood, I think. Here's what is strange, I signed in after thinking, "I haven't written anything in a long time...publicly," and I see the date of my last post, November 18th, 2007. I think aloud, "Wow, it HAS been a while," and then I see it. In the top-left corner of my phone, the date in Australia is November 18th (I haven't had use for dates in months, so I had no clue). That is just a strange coincidence, but all of it is a very lengthy attempt at saying, I'm back.

I am currently living with a friend in Manly (northern Sydney), Australia, after having worked on a farm in New Zealand in the fall. We read and surf and beach by day, punctuated by working infrequent landscaping jobs for rent and grocery money, and we sleep and play guitar and mandolin by night. It is a life that is like from a dream, and one that won't last, but I sold my car and passed on college (for now) to get here, and I intend to enjoy it. I am learning some of the more implicit truths of life, and I would like to write about one...

It is hard to wrap one's mind around the feeling of smallness that the world emits to strangers in foreign places. If you move to a place where you know no one, and continue to know few people, there comes a sense of cultural drowning, and a place can all too suddenly seem like an endless sea of stangers. But then a hand might clasp onto you in the midst of that sea, and you begin to swim ashore. Every connection that is made, and every story that is told seems to make that shoreline seem smaller, and in turn, the world ends up being not nearly as vast as it used to. We are all connected, by hopes and friends and dotted lines, and any patch of beach can start to feel like home, or at least, not so far from home. We have nothing but each other, and no plane or boat or bus can bring us closer together, just like no distance can separate us from each other, so long as we know how connected we really are. I was always in sydney, and I am in Marietta still, and though I cannot see or hug my friends and family in america, there are a thousand golden strands holding us all together, whether we know it or not, past present and future, with or against our wills.
I felt very small and insignificant in a new place like australia, where I knew no one, yet in time I caught a glimpse of The Artist's hand connecting all the dots. So I guess it's not really me that is small, nor the world, but He is truly that big.

love.

Revolution 9

2007-11-18T17:15:00.000-08:00

I wonder sometimes if we've completely forgotten relativity. We want so badly to relate, to act like we know where someone is coming from or what they're going through, that we forget that we never can fully know what is going on. We can never completely know what is happening in someone's life, or in their mind. We pass things off as stages or phases, to try and comfort ourselves in account of other's differences, but how accurate is that? We compare and contrast to our own experiences, which can be useful occasionally, but isn't that just another log in the uncontrollable fire of our own personal ego?

I think this can be a catalyst in our complete crash-and-burn of our faith in humanity, thinking that we've seen it all before. We limit the Spirit and pervert the words of Solomon when we say, "nothing is new under the sun". Sure, before there was time, God is, but that incomprehensible statement must never be applied to man. When a revolution-seeker starts talking, the easiest and most comfortable thing to do is to say, "I've heard that before, and I'll hear it again." Seek the change. Apply your heart to the influence that Christ has been before, and will be again. We've had revolutions before yes, but that's not to say, and implicative of the quite the opposite, that we won't see any more. Don't fly off the handle, but don't glue yourself to it, either.

Love!

Meaningless Conversation

2007-11-04T08:38:00.001-08:00

I can't blog every day of this month. Well I could, but you would end up reading the useless dregs of my daily thoughts. I much prefer to write what I feel strongly about, or about what I'm strongly unsure of how I feel. Strongly is the key word there, but with all of that said, I'll try to be more consistent.

I know this: talk is cheap. Not just cheap, talk is worthless. I have days sometimes when I can look back and think, 'Nothing of what I said today mattered.' Nothing. I can have exhaustively drawn out conversations about matters of little or no consequence, I can look back on my words and see that they have carried no weight. I can talk an issue to death, but unless I do something about it, unless it actually affects the way I live, all of my talking amounts to nothing, or even destruction. I say that I love Jesus. I also say that I love tacos, and racquetball for that matter. I just need to make one clarification here, Jesus is no taco. But my words have made him one. The mindless babble that I live by has transformed the things that I hold dear in this world into things of little or no consequence.

I should hope that my actions and the life that I try to live is a revelation of whom I love, and what I care about, but for those who can only hear my words, I am nothing but a shallow, mercurial man who loves a good fish fry and Jehovah God, and possibly even in that order. I'm not down on my life, just on my cheap, cheap words.
love.

I Can't Know What This Means...

2007-10-16T14:53:00.000-07:00

My soul is weak, my heart is numb,
I cannot see, but still my hope is found in You.
I hold on tightly, You will never let me go,
For Jesus, You will never fail,
Jesus, You will never fail.

Simply to the cross I cling,
Letting go of all earthly things,
I'm clinging to the cross.
Mercy's found a way for me,
Hope is here as I am free,
Jesus, You are all I need
I'm clinging to the cross.

^^Let me just add to this perfect song that I have been caught, without even realizing it, clinging and abiding in things infinitesimally weaker than the cross of my Lord. I have put my trust in things unworthy of Him, and I have seen what this world really is. My prayer is this now, and only this, let all other things follow:

Simply to the cross I cling,
Letting go of all earthly things,
I'm clinging to the cross.

love.

Come Together

2007-09-30T08:25:00.000-07:00

Revelation 22:17
And the Spirit and the Bride say, "Come!" And let him who hears say, "Come!" Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life.

That's what I hear right now. "Come!" Somewhere in me, I want to say it. Somewhere deep, my spirit is begging my flesh to say it, but I cannot. I've heard it said that the word "send" is the most destructive word of the 21st century, that one little word and click having delivered letters of things that should have not been said in the first place, but I tell you the truth, to a man of flesh, there is no word quite so destructive as the word "Come!"

It doesn't matter who says it. We ask the Spirit, "Come! Have your way!", and He ruins our plans. Jesus says, "Come! Take up your cross!", and we die. We ask Jesus, "Come! Return to your people!", and we are found in our rebellion and in our subversion. The Father says, "Come! I have waited for you to return home!", and our old ways must go. It doesn't matter who says it, when we hear or use that little 4-letter word, towers fall and we are found as nothing without Christ.

One thing I've learned, and glory goes to Jesus for teaching stubborn me at least one thing, is that I may not hold to the things that I do in this world and at the say time say to the Lord, "Come!" I can not. I haven't. I won't. I want to be a part of a movement (that is, the coming tide) that helps to render the Bride ready and prepared to say, "Come!" To say it along with the Spirit, and to mean it. The revelation is this: every knee will bow and every tongue will confess Christ, but not all will say, "Come!" I want to invite, I want to ask in.

love.

Nobody Told Me There'd Be Days Like These

2007-09-01T19:03:00.000-07:00

I'm struggling with the idea of what I'm supposed to do. Not in the cheesy sense of college or career or whatever my parents will ask me, but of who I am supposed to be. I'm beginnning to see a stark contrast between what I thought was ok for me to live by as a christian and what I am called to in this world as a follower of Christ. The Bible has started to bother me, and it never has before. I used to skim over the parts where Jesus didn't seem to make sense, thinking I'd hear a fancy sermon on the passage some day. But now I'm starting to wonder whether He meant that I should really not worry about tomorrow, about what I will eat or drink, or that I should literally clothe the naked, that I should sell all of my possessions and give the money to the poor, and so forth. In people and messages and books and even dreams I have started to hear that I, like many Christians I know, haven't really been taking the Word of our "King" seriously.

Then I ask myself, what excuse can I give myself for turning a deaf ear to those troublesome words of my Lord? Jesus told us that he would ruin us, and in our ignorance, or in a moment of passion, we told Him we didn't care. But we do. I do. Don't lie to yourself, most people do care. Men have wanted the American Dream since way before they thought up America, and I have been crushed to learn that the Kingdom of God holds somewhat of a rival value system. I always thought Jesus was joking when He said "the last shall be first and the first shall be last" and "blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven is theirs", but he's for real.

It's about time that I started taking my Savior at His word and at His deed, because he sure lived by what he told us, and it sure now seems like he meant what he said. It still bothers me, and I'm sorry if it doesn't bother you. Anyways you're probably lying if you say it doesn't, or you just haven't looked closely at what Jesus has to say. Just read Matthew 5:38-48, Mark 10:17-31, or Luke 14:26 and I can guarantee you some discomfort. I'm beginning to see the wild side of my Lord, one that scares me and makes me fear Him, but also encourages me on in what I'm learning as Right, no matter what college counselors or Bill O'Reilly or worldly heirs might tell me.

Shane Claiborne laments that "we have not shown the world another way of doing life. Christians live pretty much just like everybody else; they just sprinkle a little Jesus in along the way." I know a few people who have really figured out that Jesus was to be taken seriously, and they are showing me what that other way of living is like. I have such a long way to go, but I'm hoping to slowly lose myself and my life and my things (those will probably go last), and put on the life that has been waiting for me. But for now I'm ok with just being bothered by this Gospel that wants to shake us from our comfort and offer a life of service and poverty and, eventually, death. All for Love. All for Jesus. I'm sold.

love.

Gimme Some Truth

2007-08-28T20:47:00.000-07:00

I have been struggling lately with a question once asked by a man who I am, sadly, very similar to. Check it out...

"'What is truth?' Pilate asked."
John 18:38

I don't want to sound dumb here (though I may sound pretty worldly), but this question gave me a really hard time. I know that the Word of God is true, but what have I to compare it to? In fallen man, we have perverted our natural truth into nothing but lies, and in our Wiki-Era, we have masked lies that we have all agreed on as truth. I felt hidden from the truth for a good reason, I feel. And I should say that wrapping your brain around the world for so long can affect even the way that we see the truth, if we have such a limited supply of it (I know that this is untrue, but go with it just for argument's sake). I needed to know what Truth really was, stripped even of scripture. Tonight I read Revelation 19:11, which at the end says this...

"And the one sitting on the horse was named Faithful and True."

Jesus. What a sunday school answer, but only this time sunday school got deep. The Truth is Jesus' name. Jesus' name is True. What can that possibly mean? Then I thought about the power of Jesus' name alone. By the name of Jesus, I remember the free salvation that was bought by His blood and all of the lies of Satan are instantly washed away. Lies that say I am still guilty, lies that say I cannot be fully saved by grace. Just the mention of His name robs the father of lies of all his power. The Truth rebukes and casts out all lies, and so does the name of my Savior for the father of all lies. This is why Jesus is Truth, and Him alone. So let me finish the verse:

"'What is truth?' Pilate asked. With this he went out again to the Jews and said, "'I find no basis for a charge against him.'"

Pilate answered his own question, and he never even knew it. Jesus is Truth because the is no fault in Him, and there was no basis for any charges againts Him. Jesus is Truth because he was the perfect sacrifice, Jesus is Truth because he was blameless and was given the power to defeat our adversary. Jesus is Truth because He is Jesus.

love.

I had dinner with my family last night

2007-08-07T06:27:00.000-07:00

Four-fifths of our family was together at the dinner table last night, for the first time in months, maybe longer. For the present-day Kennedy family, this is a major feat, and it was so amusing to watch how we all fell back into our old roles in conversation. My dad and brother got home from their summer in Tanzania last night and I've been home a week with mom, but the best is yet to come. This Saturday we will have the one day after we meet my sister in Wyoming (plus a few more friends), and we will have the five Kennedy's together again. For those lacking foresight or who just don't know my whole fam, I'll just tell you that this will be so much fun.

I want to talk a little about my family, because while I have spent months without even seeing any of them, an obvious appreciation and fondness grows stronger in me. My dad is the boss, and thats just how it is. He's smart, tough, funny and wise (probably due to the fact that he's never had anything handed to him and he has always worked his butt off). He and my mom somehow keep from killing each other and can sometimes act gross because they are still in love after 28 years. My mom hates hunting, the wild, most animals, a lot of what we boys do, and still manages to maintain her household like no unclean thing has ever entered it. She's my buddy, we're around each other the most, and she's the funniest person that she knows. She likes to tell me that boys are stupid and she has the sweetest disposition anyone can have.

My sister is incredible. The sweetest girl you could ever meet and the first Kennedy to have a Masters. She is incredibly smart and interesting and has the best heart of anyone I know. Beautiful and modest, she's brave, and follows dreams like I wish I could. My brother is, I think, my best friend. I say "I think" because of the caliber of friends that I am surrounded by, but I doubt that any guy understands me like my brother does. When folks tell me we seem alike, I shrug it off but do a huge fist-pump on the inside. We spent a month together in a tent and never came anywhere close to fighting, and it's almost not fair to others around us how identical our sense of humor is. We both love music, in a lot of the same ways, and we hang out like friends, not like brothers.

All of them are so good. All because some of us had dinner last night...
love.

Message In a Bottle

2007-07-27T01:32:00.000-07:00

I'm back, well from the north, at least. I'll be really "back" in 2 days. The Lord has taught me so much. Too much, or too much too write down, I should say.

And this is how it always is. I come here, looking to satisfy my convictions or something like that, or to do something good, or to give of myself for a short amount of time. If you've ever come to Ghana, you know that it doesn't exactly work this way. Half of my clothes now are those which Ghanaians have given me. Most of my memories here are of someone showing sincere concern for me, without even really knowing me. All of my time here has been blessed in a way that I could not hope to repay. I come to Ghana to give, and I always end up taking more away. That's just how it is here.

I could write you a big extensive blog (a bixtenslog) about the adventures and the experiences that I've had this summer, but I would much rather talk with you face-to-face (which I'll be able to do next week). Rather, I will conclude this trip's worth of blogging with one beautifully succinct revelation, one that has taken me much too long to learn: the Lord is out to bless you, no matter of where you are or what you do, that will always be His will.

Now it took me three times to Ghana, West Africa to realize that, and lots of things in between as well. I'm ok with that, though, because there are some people here that I seriously have come to love. But hopefully, we all can grow to realize the truth every day, even without the Trans-Atlantic voyage.

love.

A scrambled thought on overmeditation

2007-07-03T14:12:00.000-07:00

I am in the annoyingly consistent habit of brooding over an idea that God may have given me for so long that I eventually tire of the weight that I give to it, however unecessarily so. When I come upon an easier solution, no matter how kitsch, I usually sell out for the gravity that I have placed upon the narrower road. This is very important to me because I am a strong believer in the fact that our present ideas greatly affect how we act and treat other people.

For example: Say I was given an intense desire by the Lord to care for others, and I carried that, on my own shoulders, very heavily, devoting all of who I am to that and nothing else, for a short time. I soon become tired and weakened and possibly disillusioned by the world that does not fit into the vision that I have been given. My response is that which is inverse to my original call. I have been running in one direction, and it would be shameful to slow down to merely a walk, so I begin to run in the complete opposite. Again, this may just be me.

How can one day something seem incredibly compelling and the next completely jejune? I am not one of the millions out there afflicted with the ever-popular self-diagnosed Attention Deficit Disorder, I won't take that out so easily, though my mind does seem strangely liminal and interim when it comes to ideas that should carry substantial weight on their own. I am reminded of "Wedding Dress" by Derek Webb:

'I am a whore I do confess
put you on just like a wedding dress
and run down the aisle'

I am tired of living by cheap grace and exhausted rededication. I can't, any longer, believe in my own ideas and pictures of what things are supposed to be because they are just that, my own. I see now what Paul was saying when he claimed that he had been 'crucified with Christ', he actually had to die to himself and to, as Jeremiah lamented, 'all that I had hoped from the Lord'. My ideas are weak because I wear them on my own, my thoughts cannot stand to remain separate from him who desires all of me. I am no longer allowed to reserve my thoughts and then refer them later to Jesus, they are His. I am still learning from 1 Corinthians 2:16, and I doubt I'll ever fully know what it means until I'm caught up in glory.

Sorry if this made no sense.
love.

a few more...

2007-06-29T02:22:00.000-07:00

John Russell preaching at the funeral, note the double shirt long sleeves, don't know how he does it

sweet Marge

amy was just handed this baby at a funeral we went to in Wa

Only 2?!

2007-06-27T12:42:00.000-07:00

We're back from the North, for a short season in Accra, and the Lord is saying much. I don't want to be the one to mince those words, but I do have pictures. I can write some new thought some other time...

This is Bess Russell with Abobo, the sweet little girl whose leg had to be amputated to save her life. Bess is so good with her.

This is the gang at our friend Gifty's house in Paga, greeting her family.

That's all for now, it takes a while to load these so I'll put more up later.
love.

Ready

2007-06-16T01:06:00.000-07:00

There aren't any more Mozleys in Ghana, for the summer. Watching them go was harder than I had anticipated, and everyone agrees that the house is sad now. I need to get back into Ghana, where I love the country for what it is. The city is only where the people I love are(were).

Our trip on monday is going to be great, though. We're first going to Kumasi to have Bible Club and spend the night, then we're headed to Lake Bosomtwi for two days and nights. Our goal there is to give the Jernigans (the missionaries there, a preacher and a doctor) a hand with their kids and if at all possible, let them relax a bit. Then we are heading up to Wa, a town in the northwest region, and we'll do the same for another missionary couple with young kids up there. After two nights in Wa we leave for Navrongo, in the far north, also where I will be in July, to spend some time with pastor Lawrence Bekah, and we'll be going around to churches with him all day. The next morning we leave for the Volta region, and we are hoping to get to see a good bit of it, Marge is the only person who has been there and everyone says it's beautiful.

Then we're coming back to Accra for a few days. Davis will leave, and I'll head back up north. I'll post again before then.

love.

Smallboys and beyond

2007-06-07T13:05:00.000-07:00

I was just about to leave Adullam for a while, like I'm not sure when I would be back next, hopefully more this summer. Well I was standing around by the gate area, and the kids kept asking,
"You're leaving now?"
"When will you come back?"
"Tomorrow?"
"Can I come with you?"
"Will I see you again?"

The only thing I could do was to tell them soon, and that I had come back before, and I'd be back again. I didn't have any answers. One boy, wise beyond his years (sometimes too much so for his own good), asked me, "If you say you don't want to go, then why don't you stay for a while longer?"

I was reminded then, as I kind of just stared at Francis for a while, saying nothing, that even there in the simplest of settings, I cannot explain everything that I do. I don't see this as something that is defendable, or even healthy, but still I continue to do things that seem so very strange to certain people under certain circumstances. And sometimes, I can't explain myself. I could have told Francis that people would be waiting on my bus back to Accra, I could have said that I had already planned other things, but none of this would have been sufficient enough to the boy who I had just spent two days with to explain why I was leaving and might not be back for a long time.

I'm making a resolution. I want to, through prayer and more study, be able to explain myself at all times. I'm reading the book of John right now and to see how Jesus carried himself in conversation and reason is so inspiring. At first I thought that I could never be like that. But then He showed me.

1 Corinthians 2:16
"'For who has known the mind of the Lord
that he may instruct Him?'
But we have the mind of Christ."

love.

Help

2007-06-01T01:15:00.000-07:00

I lift up my eyes to the hills -
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and Earth.
He will not let your foot slip -
He who watches over you will not slumber;

--Psalm 121: 1-3

I want to make this my own in the coming months. Life is comfortable here in Accra, but it won't be as much next week in Obuasi, or in Navrongo in July, or in many of the places I will come to in my life. I am counting on the Lord to be my help then. I love the idea of looking to the hills and watching Him come to my aide. The Psalmist calls Him "my fortress, my strong tower, and my very present help in time of need." Praise the Lord. (This is when the Ghanaians say "hallelujah"). I'm sorry I haven't posted in so long, but now I have things to write about.

Love.

14 Days

2007-05-16T16:53:00.000-07:00

Apologies all around for that last entry, I just thought it was representative of exactly what I'm dealing with. (Victor Wooten, Caroline.)

Two weeks from right now I will be over the Atlantic Ocean, en route to my favorite place on Jesus' green earth, to see my favorite family, and to begin what will ostensibly be my favorite experience ever. I can't imagine why I'm restless here, though...

I want to make a short list of books that I think everyone I know should read. Not many books change my life, I just was born with the ability to read very objectively, but anyhow, these books have literally changed my life, some spiritual, some economic, some emotional, some all of these.

The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis - I never thought too much about heaven before, or if had, it seemed kind of dull. This book made me want heaven more than anything I've ever thought of.

The End of Poverty by Jeff Sachs - This man is an accomplished international economist, and he has taken on a new heart for Africa. There are solutions to our problems in the world, we just don't want to see them.

They Poured Fire On Us From the Sky - Sweet little kindergarten-aged kids forced from their homes, their families dead, and their own lives at risk. They have to look out for each other for the better part of two decades. You'll be outraged, but you need to be. This is still happening.

East of Eden by John Steinbeck - There is hope for every man, we may choose to overcome the world.

love.

The Sojourn of Arjuna

2007-05-13T18:23:00.000-07:00

So Arjuna and Krishna you know they're hanging out on the battlefield
Arjuna is like tired of war, he's trying to get out of this battle
so Krishna drops a little science on him, he says you know it's the way of spiritual growth
a man must go forth from where he stands
he cannot jump to the absolute, he must evolve toward it
Krishna says at any given moment in time we are what we are
Arjuna we have to accept the consequences of being ourselves
and only through this acceptance can we begin to evolve further
we may select the battleground but we cannot avoid the battle

so Krishna tells Arjuna it follows therefore that every action under certain circumstances and for certain people may actually be a stepping stone to spiritual growth

Arjuna is to do the best he knows
in order to pass beyond that best to better
how can we prescribe our neighbors to be perfect
when it is so hard to know our own heart
the pacifist must respect Arjuna
Arjuna must respect the pacifist.
both are going toward the same goal
if they are really sincere
there's an underlying solidarity between them
which can be expressed
each one follows without compromise the path upon which he finds himself
for we can only help others to do their duty
by doing what we ourselves believe to be right
it is the one supremely social act.

so Krishna's reply to Arjuna occupies the rest of the story
it deals not only with Arjuna's immediate personal problem
but the whole nature of action
the meaning of life
and the aims for which man must struggle here on earth
at the end of the conversation Arjuna has changed his mind
he's ready to fight, he's ready to go ahead on
it is the way of spiritual growth
a man must go forward from where he stands
he cannot jump to the absolute
and the battle begins...

Jitterbug

2007-05-09T16:08:00.000-07:00

There is a feeling under my skin that I can't shake. If I'm sitting down, I need to stand up. If I'm moving around, I need to go further. This isn't just a mental thing, either. It's why I shake out of my sleep sometimes, it's why I haven't been able to get comfortable for about a year.

Now this isn't constant, nor does it haunt my every moment. Actually, it gets stronger near times that I am in a place that I love. On either end, coming or going, I get this way. Not nervous, just anxious. It's the closest thing I have to physical proof that I am called somewhere else, someday.

Reading about the Sudan and Sierra Leone does not help to soothe this feeling, but I'm not completely sure that I want it to go away. Questions run through my head. Why does everyone not feel the way I do? Not sure, at all. How can so many not know, or for those who do know, how can they not act? I am hoping and praying for a generation to rise up, a whole generation, because I don't want to discount those who have chosen to care, as I know most reading this do.

Maybe that's why I'm sitting here in this class, at night when I could be resting or having fun. Maybe I need to help stir up passion for the cause that I like to call my own. Maybe I'm here to remind myself of what I want, what I love. Maybe.

love.

TravelGirl

2007-05-02T19:23:00.000-07:00

Day 1 of my Travel Writing class at Emory, or Vacation Journalism as Cam would call it.

First Step: Realize that your teacher is a CNN hotshot and a quasi-major magazine tycoon. (Check)

Step Two: Confuse the teacher by forgetting the whole part about being in high school, I guess I just thought the shorts would have given it away.

Step Three: Check email in class, and don't forget to pass plenty of notes.

Final Step: Don't be misled and begin to pray at the end of class, a bell won't ring, either. Then give everyone else in the class a nickname making fun of your first impression of them, always good for a laugh.

Optional Step: Call 911 and be put on hold for three minutes before you can say "I could have died, thanks."

love.

40 Days

2007-04-22T18:22:00.000-07:00

Today began a new chapter in my life. I woke up this morning with no idea, and with no intention of participating in such a personal paradigm shift, but the Lord had other plans.

I was praying with a friend. I was worried about the money situaton for this summer (I have a plane ticket and a plan but not a whole lot of dough), but in prayer we forgot about that. We prayed for a time of intense growth, one that comes before I go, while I am still in America. We prayed that my actions would be honorable in my last few weeks here before I leave. Then we just just prayed, because that's what we wanted to do.

I started thinking that I don't have much time before I leave, which is great because I miss my other home but also crazy because now it seems like I have a lot to do in a short amount of time. I even counted the days. Including today, I have 40 days. For some reason I liked this fact, that God is ushering in a time of growth and focus before I go out, and it comes in the form of 40 days. God always seemed to do cool stuff in 40 days, I remembered, maybe He can do something cool with me in that amount of time, too.

Day 1 is over, and I already feel new. My day was blessed with friends and messages and music and conversation, and the Lord is good. So good. I even have doubts about two months away, but then I think of how good He is, and how much I want Him, and it's all ok. I have 39 more days to remember that, so if any of you see me forgetting please smack me on the head and give me a day count, to show me that it'll not be long before I see the faces that I love, and the place that has my heart.
love

Take me out

2007-04-20T16:24:00.000-07:00

I have some hindsight from the Czech Republic. It took the equivalent of a heavenly smack on the back of the head to turn me to realization, but alas I've found it:

So I am sitting in a pub, drinking coffee with Allie, Patrick, and our Czech friend Anna. Anna has just walked out of the movie theater, where we had played The Passion of the Christ for her and her community in a vastly atheist Czech. Some snorted, some cried, and others were completely lost for feeling. Anna is now one of those in-betweeners, and she has questions so we take her out for coffee. I start talking about Jesus, and how hard it was for me to watch him die because I love him so much. She nods her head but seems uneasy. Then her question comes. "What happens next?"

Oh, what happens next. That night turned into a great one, from that one little question.

I tell you this story not to tell of anything that I did, but more so that I can say how completely unimportant I was that night. Jesus was alive in this girl's heart. She did not know him. She had no knowledge of her sin, she thought she was a good person. She didn't even know what to do with what she had just seen. But Jesus was stirring. She had so many questions, she stayed with us all night. This girl was searching, and if I had not been there, it wouldn't have mattered. The Spirit would have driven her into the streets, asking about this Jesus, I only happened to be obedient to where God wanted me to be, for once.

Anna wanted to know what her life was all about, and what Jesus could mean in it. She knew there was something more, and wanted to reach out to it, to know it by name. Me too.

love

Insane Clown Posse

2007-04-09T08:01:00.000-07:00

It's April and it's cold. I skipped school today, I'm not sure why. I wasn't tired or anything. Couldn't go. Not yet.

Will someone tell me why clowns are scary? I have no idea why they are, but I had a dream about a nine-foot clown in a dark room, popping out just to scare me last night, and now as I'm recalling it I suppose. There is no ambiguity in a clown. A clown is either scary to one's self, or he is not. Here lies my concern, if clowns are so nice and harmless, like the ones at circuses and birthday parties, then why do they scare the pee out of people even when they are trying to be nice? And if clowns are truly meant to scare people, like they scare me in dark dream-rooms, then why on God's green earth would they be invited to circuses and childrens' birthday parties in the first place??

okay so I just spent a good five minutes blogging about clowns and I'm not sure what to do with that.

well anyway that is one of my thoughts for the day, do with it what you will. I'm off to wonder for what reason God has me at home today, maybe it's a little deeper than clowns.
love

Life of Afternoon

2007-03-30T12:51:00.000-07:00

I can't quite bring the swirling stew that is my thoughts to materialize in any form of lucid blogging right now, but I haven't blogged in a week and I won't be able to for another week so I thought I'd better get my butt a-typing anyway.

The truly applicable question for my life to day is, "What is the Lord NOT teaching me?" (My computer won't do italics on the blog so excuse the caps, I wasn't yelling). I am learning so much right now, and in new ways. In 1 a.m. cups of coffee at Waffle House and in phone calls even later that night, He is teaching me about myself and my friends that He has blessed me with. In the twilight before the sunrise He teaches me to silence my heart to prepare for a flood of light and glory. In the late-night cups of tea with my mother (thanks to Pam Downs, of course) He teaches me to look past what I see everyday and see the person that needs to talk to someone, to share with her son who hopefully loves her like she loves him.

The Lord has called me to the simple things right now, the things that I think little of often. I am always so drawn to the extravagant things of this world, because you all know that His love and salvation is truly extravagant, that sometimes I forget about the fact that He still makes the grass grow for me. He still wakes the birds up to sing to me every morning. Without fail. And if you ever notice a day when the birds stop singing and the grass stops growing, we'll cross that bridge and move on to only big things. But for now, the Lord is speaking to my heart by laying the sun on my face, and cooling me off in the shade. He is so constant. He is so good.
plain, simple, love.

Circle takes the square

2007-03-20T14:12:00.000-07:00

So I do the crossword, right? I try to do it every day, but if there's a day where I can't grab that middle page from the sports section, it's not the end of the world. I'll just be bored.

I was telling someone once about the way that the experts tell you to do the crossword. There is a central word, sometimes two, and once that word is unlocked the rest of the puzzle follows quickly. I have never gotten this word in the beginning stages of any crossword that I have ever done. I always start around the edges. They are easier and I can go fast. But when the words around the edges stop helping me figure out what's on the inside, that's when I'm in trouble. I'll sit with that crossword for hours in class and sometimes I'l never get it. Sometimes I get the inside right only to find that my edges are wrong. I start over alot, working with what I have discovered for the center part.

I've never compared myself to a puzzle or a newspaper before, so here goes. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in the frivolous things on the edges of my life that I haven't even tried to work on the center, and we all know Who that is. But once I know the center, everything else follows. Sometimes knowing the center even means getting rid of some of the edges that I thought were right. I've always hated erasing the edges of my crosswords, I was so sure that they'd fit in with everything else...
love.

Cleveland Rocks

2007-03-19T18:11:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to ask if anyone has ever made anything because I know that everyone has, at some point, made something...

There is a clay bowl on my desk. It's very misshapen and bears permanent indentations that look suspiciously like fingertips. A sideways cross (don't ask, I have no idea) is etched into the side of the rim, and a shiny, uneven glaze covers the bowl all over.
I made this bowl in the first grade when Mrs. Leong was my teacher. There was nothing that could have indicated that I would keep this bowl for years only to blog about it, but here it is, still on my desk after a bunch of years, anyway.

So far this has been a blog about a bowl. I made this bowl, and I know this bowl. I even give myself reasons in my head concerning why I purposefully made the seemingly-careless imperfections in the piece. This is how my God knows me. Sometimes when I read the Psalms and hear about the womb and the forming and stuff, it doesn't get through to me so much. Maybe it's because I am not a huge biology fan, maybe it's because that birthing video in the 7th grade scarred me for life. Anyhow, when I look at this bowl that I made, and know that I wanted it just like it is, and that I know each and every little detail about it, Jesus tells me about how I'm his bowl. I only put change in my bowl. He puts His best stuff into me, just a silly little bowl.
love.

Pac-man pwns

2007-03-11T14:52:00.000-07:00

I got some awesome time with my buddy-pal Kurt this weekend. This guy is an incredible lover of Jesus and the Lord has blessed him with an understanding that I wish for.

So we are riding up on the bus to the camp (Riverstone Middle School retreat this weekend, I'm sure most of you know or were there), and we just start to tell of the great things that the Lord has done: what He's teaching us, how miraculous He is in our lives, and all that other rad stuff that only Jesus is cool enough to do. I mean that was fellowship. The psalmist tells us that "one generation will commend Your kingdom to one another and speak of You, of Your majesty and of your wonderous deeds, of Your might and glorious splendor." We gave thanks and just sat on that bus celebrating what Jesus has done for us, as brothers in Him. And as we were reading His lovely word, Kurt got it right. "Who are you, God," he said, "that you would love us as we are?"

Who is this God that loves our dirty, crazy little selves? Who is this One who seeks me out in my immaturity? Who is this Jesus that holds such a power in His name, the only one worth exalting, and still chooses me? He is good, I know that.
love.

Den of thieves

2007-03-04T14:17:00.000-08:00

"...And not with words of human wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of it's power."

I'm really good at acting like I have it all together. Actually, I do an even better job at pretending because I act like I know that I can't have it all together, but that I'm ok with it. I am leaving far behind the idea that Paul wants for his brothers in Christ. This idea of a screwed-up life is essential to the salvation of the cross. I think it was Andy Stanley who called it "the jacked-up soul". His power is made perfect in my weakness, and I selfishly try to keep my weakness under wraps. I work hard at impressing people with my silly earthly knowledge and I am crushed when I come to find what my hard-sought human wisdom will eternally bring me: nothing. I am always the last to embrace "the foolishness of the cross"; and if ever by the grace of God I should embrace it, I become very talented at twisting that foolishness into my own religiosity and pride. I try to make His free foolish beauty conform to my "wisdom", however lacking that may be. I am robbing the cross of my Lord of it's power.

Is that what we preach? Are we to go and make disciples of all nations by teaching what we think we know? Or by what we know we think? Are we to make our ministry our own, or are we to lose ourselves and become renewed in the Spirit? So often my walk is lived in hopes of emulating the catchiest speaker or the godliest man. So often my witness is a product of my mind and convictions, not of His mercy. The cross is powerful in its foolishness, and I am emptying the cross of my Lord of its power.

but Paul says that we have the mind of Christ. This I cannot escape.
love

Shooting the breeze

2007-02-22T10:00:00.000-08:00

Can you ever feel things change? When all should be normal but nothing is there to reassure you that it is? I'm not quite sure what I'm saying, but it feels like trying to live in a room where there are no longer any walls, but you stay inside it anyway.

Sometimes our lives are very subtle, sometimes not. The Lord is always shaping, fashioning His way for us. I've come to see His power in the times when it used to be least evident to me, in the times when nothing groundbreaking or earthshattering happens, just a muted, implicit rearranging of the things that are important in my life. I'm sure this has everything to do with being intentional in relationships and people drifting silently out lives, but I'm not the one who can connect those ideas right now.

It seems funny to me (hmm funny not ha ha funny) that God chose the still, strong voice to speak to Elijah. I'm always looking for his hurricanes or firestorms, and He doesn't care about any of that. He just wants me to listen, He knows I can (or should be able to), and He wants to take advantage of that. I'm so busy looking on the horizon for the storm that I can't feel the breeze blow right now, and I should be dying to feel it. The breeze feels good.
love.

Give and Take Away

2007-02-18T11:56:00.000-08:00

Chris Thile is playing, so good. Everyone is lying around and it's the middle of the day. Katie B has taken a break from being the housekeeper, thank goodness she needs to be lazy for a moment or two, and we're all full and warm and happy. We've skied to our hearts' content and for some reason I keep hitting the caps lock button, annoying. The snow has not stopped, nor will it for a while more.

That's what's going on in the world of Ryan and friends, so there's the update, Katie B has pictures up so check that if you want, I don't even have a digital camera.

Meanwhile I have next week off. So much time, I'm not even sure what I'll do. I'll work, granted, but what then? I have too many books to stay committed for too long, but I'm sure I'll make reasonable progress on all of them. I hope to spend some time with people that I haven't been able to recently. I hate that, when people seem to drift out of your life. Sometimes I choose to let it happen, sometimes they do. Sometimes no one controls anything, but alas, it happens.

I was reminded recently that my relationships have to be intentional. I can't expect to keep people close if I am not investing into their lives and letting them invest into my life. Not like the cheesy thing that adults say to you when they want older people to "invest" into young ones, but an equal investment, a giving of a part of my life and taking of a part of theirs. That's what this weekend reminds me of, here in Snowshoe with good friends. We're getting to share each other's lives for a little while, and that's good. The end.
love

Have we tried?

2007-02-11T08:39:00.000-08:00

We had just dropped off the gang to shop in Osu, and Anna and I are going to Sabine's house. We are coming from a different direction that Anna is used to, and my knowledge of the backstreets of Osu is somewhat limited. Eddie finds the way (under the keen tutelage of Ann, mind you), and Anna smiles and says in Twi, "Eddie, you have tried." Now that is the literal translation. It is meant to be taken more along the lines of, "Eddie, you rock." I love that. He does.

I don't want to talk to Jesus when we finally meet face-to-face about the organizations I left behind, or the money that I had, or the impact I had on the world. I want to look my Lord in the eye and hear, "You have tried, you sought me and here I am." I want to know that trying for Jesus is all that I can do. I want to know that He is good, because I have nothing good in me. Is that all it takes? Trying?

I don't think I try very much. I think I've softened the meaning of the word. I think that I think about trying, or that I want to try, but is that the same? I think I'm skating by on grace spread far too thin. I think that I've tried before and somehow that's enough to last me for a while. I'm all tried out. Is the Lord calling us to try more than we already have? But I've tried these couple times and I'm good for a while, right? I'm not so sure anymore.

I'll try. I'll seek Him and do the only thing I can do, try.
love.

Picture Yourself in a Boat on a River

2007-02-07T21:28:00.000-08:00

No Strokes fans? really? well anyway I feel like I usually just dive into thoughts or ideas, so tonight I want to take time to extend a friendly hand and say hello to all of you out there in cyberspace. Hello. Oh I'm great, how are you? Really? I haven't heard from him in like 8 months....

excuse me. I guess I got a little carried away with the pirated greeting.

Ok so one of my recent titles was from Sgt. Pepper's, and I thought that it was just that day that I had it stuck in my head. No, no. I'm obsessed. I have no clue what sparked this in my head but I can't stop hitting the replay button when the CD finishes. And if I'm not in the car, then my brain plays the album, which since the 7th grade has been inerrantly burned into my memory. It's just too good. The music is so far from the pop-ish Beatles of "1" or your standard order-from-TV album that is all people listen to nowadays when they need to sit back and watch American Bandstand reruns and talk about the Eisenhower administration. This was art, this was influence, and mainly this was so flippin cool. I wish I could change my name to Billy Shears, or write a song only to have Joe Cocker cover my song while introducing Fred Savage. Maybe I was kidding about that last part, and I apologize, Ringo, but seriously I don't understand, why the Wonder Years?

I'm not sure if that was coherent or if I just threw up British Invasion all over the blog, but if you get anything out of this, know that I love the Beatles. And sadly I am a closet Wonder Years fan. Just don't tell.
love

Heart In a Cage

2007-02-05T19:22:00.000-08:00

I'm not feeling very thoughty right now. I feel tired and weak. A little sick, but only from convincing myself that I'm not sick, and I am very much feeling an abstract blog, or a blabstract. The blabstraction will take the form of a poem not composed by the likes of me but of my favorite poet, Stephen Crane. It's called The Heart.

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter - bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."

^^ To me, this poem shouts something, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Maybe that's why I think it's so beautiful.

Hebrews 3:7-9

So, as the Holy Spirit says:
"Today, if you hear his voice,
do not harden your hearts
as you did in the rebellion,
during the time of testing in the desert,
where your fathers tested and tried me
and for forty years saw what I did."

With a Little Help From My Friends (without the getting high part)

2007-02-02T22:11:00.000-08:00

Anna's blog about something-but-nothing has been an inspiration to me. I have no big thoughts, and maybe that's because Se7en just creeped them out of my head, but whatever. I'm not out to inspire or even make you think, just maybe to say how my day was.

Hours shifted by with no rhyme or reason to how much time per interval. The moments I should have enjoyed dragged on, and he moments that I did absolutely nothing made time fly by. I took no caffeine into the bloodstream, and I'm feeling ok about it. A few times my mind would allow itself to think, "Ok, this is all you get, this is what your life looks like."

No sir.

I refuse to let one day that my thoughts go haywire against all I know the Lord has for me become any sort of fear. After all of this, the Lord surrounded me with my friends, whom I love. I don't need to speak everything, sometimes just thier presence can soothe an entire day of being mentally preoccupied. To all of you.
love

Shorty!

2007-01-31T13:01:00.000-08:00

So many friends blogging now... Even as I feign working while reading all of your beautiful posts, I can no longer think to myself, "I wonder what's on [your name here]'s mind?" Now trust me, there is no substitute to talking to your cool face, but I also love to be able to hear from you when I'm bored at 2 a.m. without waking you up and risking our friendship. Just a small nicety that is blogging.

that's all, I'm at work sending emails that don't neccessarily need to be sent right now and writing very short blog entries, or "blentries", if you will. That's right, in ten years you won't find a word in my vocabulary that hasn't been arbitrarily combined with another word. Just watch.
love

Fire on the Mountain

2007-01-29T20:56:00.000-08:00

Well the clock just struck midnight and I'm not a pumpkin. Is that how that works? Or is something like my shoe supposed to turn into a pumpkin? Why a pumpkin? I was always fond of butternut squash. And I don't think clocks even strike anymore, I guess they click. But my clock is on my computer so it's silent anyways, so I guess I should have said that the clock just silently stopped reading 11:59 PM and silently started reading 12:00 AM.

Wow. I just annoyed myself. Usually, at this point in the post, I would rub my hands together and say something self-motivating like "Now we're blogging!" Only after that opening paragraph, there was a taste in my writer's mind that is just like the taste of the roof your mouth in the morning after you ate chocolate and fell asleep the night before. So my entire point in getting up to this sentence is that, like so many other posts, this one was written late in the eve (or early in the morn, for that matter).

Tonight we were talking about someone who may come with me this summer to Ghana. We were sitting on the B's couch and I said, "He may come to Ghana." Someone asked, being a smart youknow, asked, "He's coming? You mean going? If he was coming, then that means you are there." and this is where my mind was blown because I didn't even have to answer.
"No, he meant coming," Katie B interjects with her fabulously brilliant mind, "Ryan's heart is in Ghana and he's there, [smurf] is coming to Ghana."

Uhhh.

I don't know if I'm that obvious or if there was some revelation going on in that room, but I was ministered to in my heart right there. There was no better, simpler way to put it. Katie B, you [while air-strumming and rocking out] rock! and Jesus, saving the best for last, You [while playing air flute and Jethro Tulling it] really rock!
love

Timeline

2007-01-27T10:30:00.000-08:00

Someone told me once (and continues to tell me, thank goodness) that I should be living in the 1920's. Here's the truth. I know of few eras other than the Roaring Twenties that I would like to live in. To be around and feel the world hear truth from Fitzgerald, Sinclair Lewis, and Sherwood Anderson might just make me a better person. To see art deco change the way my country looked, to watch blacks in the country rise up and take the place that was theirs through art and literature, man that would have been something. I'm not sure how much I would have paid to see the Duke at the Cotton Club in Harlem, but it would have been a lot.

And that's how I am. I'm always thinking of someplace else. I'm always looking back or ahead. Or at least, I'm always trying to change what is now into something that isn't now. Does that even make sense? Not sure. Sometimes I try so hard to fight stagnancy and complacency that I get lost. I know there is a right way to do it, I just haven't found it. And just to follow up that note on the twenties, I would have loved it, but I wouldn't go back. I'm gonna be there for Jesus' return, just watch.
love.

Chapter 13

2007-01-23T19:52:00.000-08:00

Sometimes a kind of glory lights up the mind of a man. It happens to nearly everyone. You can feel it growing or preparing like a fuse burning toward dynamite. It is a feeling in the stomach, a delight of the nerves, of the forearms. The skin tastes the air, and every deep-drawn breath is sweet. Its beginning has the pleasure of a great stretching yawn; it flashes in the brain and whole world glows outside your eyes. A man may have lived all of his life in the gray, and the land and trees of him dark and somber. The events, even the important ones, may have trooped by faceless and pale. And then - the glory - so that a cricket song sweetens his ears, the smell of the earth rises chanting to his nose, and dappling light under a tree blesses his eyes. Then a man pours outward, a torrent of him, and yet he is not diminished. And I guess a man's importance in the world can be measured by the quality and number of his glories. It is a lonely thing but it relates us to the world. It is the mother of all creativeness, and it sets each man separate from all other men.

^^That was John Steinbeck and it took me three times reading East of Eden to catch the importance of this thought. It inspires me to hear someone that does not know Jesus still feel something spectacular and noteworthy about the idea of glory. He is searching for something here, and though I can act like I have the upper hand in knowing what Steinbeck is really after, I may be the one missing out on wanting or needing it so badly because I think I have already arrived. This is what great writing makes you think about. Who is closest to truth? I need to go simpler than that. I walk hand in hand with Pilate when he asks Jesus, "What is truth?" My heart aches to think of this. I want to save that for another entry, another time. Too much.
love.

Vast

2007-01-21T06:43:00.000-08:00

Does anyone know how to paint? Well that sure is cool if you do, I want to learn all about it. I have done some, but I think that it would be a really cool way of spending some of my time.

I was just thinking as I looked at the paintings on my wall that some people are incredibly talented. My friend Kyle started painting last year just because he wanted to, and he has done some really cool pieces, not just on canvas, but he got creative with different mediums. This girl that sits across from me in calculus draws some insanely beautiful pictures that are sometimes wierd but whatever. My brother, who would appear to be, if there was one, the antithesis of art, can draw nature and wildlife to the point where they look real. The point, to go along with my music post (my last good one, in my oppinion), is that the Lord has His glory in all of this, whether each artist was aware of it or not. One of my favorite expressions of worship is when Matt Redman yells "King of Glory, Have Your Glory!" That's what it's all about, isn't it? And it pleases the Lord when we actually realize His glory in our lives and choose to honor Him.

This may have been redundant but I don't care. A huge portion of what Jesus has been speaking to me lies in this thought. It's tough to really explain what I have been learning about this, because I feel like the surface hasn't even been scratched, but I guess I'll leave it there and be selfish with my thoughts for a while.
love.

Dead Presidents

2007-01-18T15:46:00.000-08:00

Letting my silly bedroom nostalgia spread to those kind enough to read has really taught me something. I can write about absolutely anything and it will sound ridiculous. I look back on my contrived expressions and structures to realize that my writing is not only unbelievably sloppy but also a bit childish.

Just thought that thought needed to be put out there. Well here I am back in blogdom, and feeling pretty good about it. The gang seems to be getting along well, and the more I read others' the more people I see that have started writing. Despite my dessenting oppinions of Facebook and Myspace and what-have-you, I am really starting to get along in this idea of blogging. I have become passionate in the past years about words, and though I really do believe that brevity and carefully chosen words hold the most value, and that he who knows not when to hold his tongue, or pen, is a fool, I feel like so many great things can be done with our thoughts written down.

To all of you great writers out there in Blogsylvania (Annie, Marie, more who should know who they are...), you have my respect for writing how you feel and what you do so honestly and while being so entertaining. Oh, and you too Ulysses S. Grant, I know that you are a closet fan of my blog.
love.

Crowded empty spaces

2007-01-15T18:02:00.000-08:00

I am not feeling myself right now but here goes nothing in an attempt to convince you otherwise...

I am sitting in a room that has no particular value to me. Sure, it is my bedroom, but I hardly sleep there anymore and I have other places to go when I need to be alone. There are though, certain things that fill this room that I am quite fond of. An assortment of instrument cases line the back wall, reminding me of something that no one can take away from me. More books than I care to count, stacked on shelves and in drawers and possibly my medicine cabinet (you never know...), have helped to shape the way I think and have contributed to my ever-narrowing-with-age perspecive. A few pictures of friends, a school newspaper ID badge from 10th grade in which I look like a complete slacker, some paper snowflakes that Molly made for me at a carnival when no kids wanted to come to her station, piles of notebooks that I have foolishly written my thoughts down into for someone to stumble upon later only to scoff at my callow attempts at expressing myself... these are the things that I enjoy about this place. The painting of the two Masai from Tanzania, the painting that Kyle painted for me entitled "Pinnochio (the P is silent)", small notes and concert tickets and mountains of cds, they all have their own place.

I used to have two twin beds. My brother and I shared them for our entire lives. They creaked and were entirely too small, but I have never been more comfortable than in those box-springless bunks. I took them apart the other night. I racheted and shoved and took them apart until my room was empty. Now everything is shifted. All of my books are not where I look for them to be, my cds have disappeared into the limbo of storage, and one giant black monstrosity of a new bed frame lies in the center of this place that I used to know. Nothing fits. My instruments are scattered throughout the house and the ID badge, we can only hope to find it someday. I would be an idiot to sit here and think that Jesus isn't trying to speak, that this is only about my room, I'm just sayin'. Maybe I'll find His purpose in all of this, maybe not. Just know that life is feeling like my room right now, and that if you care enough to read this, I probably need you.
love.

Career Day

2007-01-10T13:55:00.000-08:00

I honestly don't know how people work in offices for their entire lives. Six months of office work is driving me insane, and my last poorly-expressed entry might just be the manifestation of my festering cubicular angst.

Here is my situation: I need money, and I just happen to know of a place that is willing to pay me that much sought-after money if I am able to survive hours of boredom every day after school while wondering what my friends are doing with their well-earned free time. My co-workers are pleasant enough, and two of them happen to be the parents of a friend of mine. Don't get me wrong, I've found it all very interesting. I have learned enough about chiropractics to be so protective of my spine that I only sleep on my back now for fear that something heavy might fall from the ceiling and mold my form into one like the x-ray horror stories that I see every day as I impersonally assign each patient a number and color-code their file, all while reading the book that is stealthily hidden in my back pocket as soon as my boss enters.

Granted, all of this money (plus an unknown amount hopefully sent or given by future supporters) is going to get me back to Ghana, and will pay for YWAM after high school, and so on and so forth. But for now the thought of striking it rich with the lottery is much too tempting, and obviously much more fun, so I'll dream on for now I suppose.

But seriously if any of you have found a job where people pay you for, say, reading alot or taking power naps in the back room, which I have never done obviously, just let me know, and I will be more than happy to let any of you take me out to lunch to discuss it.
love.

Una salus victis nullam sperare salutem

2007-01-09T19:58:00.000-08:00

What would it be to live like I had nothing better to live for? How would I change if I knew that all of the earthly things I chase after have no value?

It's not necessarily late. I am running on 3 hours or less of sleep per night in the past week, and I am feeling it now at 11:03, relatively early for me. But it feels late. Here is what I do when it gets late: I think about things much more than I probably should. I sit awake at my desk and overanalyze any subject that happens to be bouncing around in my head. Reading time is over, I am much too self important or anxious at this time to be still and read. The clock strikes twelve, I am forced into a mindset of existentialism. Books on my shelf become dangerous to think on, and my perspective is shed until the morning. I am not daytime Ryan here, I am false and cynical, absorbed and narrow. My world is my own, where in my mind I am misunderstood by most and I am spiritual, but militant.

My struggle is with myself, and with who I think I am supposed to be. Ideas from too many philosophy textbooks shift through my brain and I am left to sort through the refuse and to form my own collage of shattered worldviews. Scripture convicts me here, but only after my thoughts scream in defiance of their insinuation. I am easily insulted now, and music seems my only comfort. I sit moodily and silently for hours trying to relax, but my mind will not allow it. I move to my bed, where recently I have been tossing and turning, my thoughts apparently too big for my twin bed. Time to go downstairs for water. I have water in my room, but I need the walk. I sip from the pineapple glass and, far from composure, I let my body distract my mind by telling myself how very tired I am. Sleep soon follows.

Maybe tonight will be different. Maybe there is something to be taken from this, but all I know is that all the Tylenol Simply Sleep in the world can't knock me out these days. At least I'm getting time to pray...
love.

[Insert Cool Post Title Here]

2007-01-05T15:07:00.000-08:00

Music Time!
An analysis of the current contents of my disc changer in the car is as follows:
1) Misty - she can truly bring worship to the Lord, it's no joke (I think the j is soft)
2) Kings of Convenience - a new fave of mine, I like to spread sweet obscure music around so just ask me for some
3) Chris Thile - Deceiver is an absolutely groundbreaking album, I mean who can play 39 instruments on a professional level?
4) Pavement / Kenna - These two are very different but make for a good mix cd, both styles of music are very interesting
5) Rufus Wainwright - This guy just makes his poetry sound like music, he can speak such volumes with one line
6) Bob Dylan - I can never get sick of Tomorrow is a Long Place, he was simply revolutionary

Now you are asking yourself, "What does all of this mean?" You might reply to yourself, "Self, this might just mean that Ryan is a sinner for loving worship AND secular music." Then you would continue to question, "But how can secular music seem as good, or worship music seem as carefree?"
Before this hypothetical soliloquy becomes much too cumbersome and ridiculous to follow, let me just get at what I'm getting at. The Lord gives talent and ingenuity to artists and musicians no matter how they use it, He's just not a conditional God. His blessings overflow unto the least of His children, and He is pleased at any attempt to use the gifts that He has given them. The Lord has placed desires and pleasurable things inside of all of us, and whether the musician or artist knows what they are doing, all music and all art is a reflection of how we need those desires to be filled and of how we seek the complement to those pleasurable things.

I had a conversation the other night about that, about how Jesus dwells in anything of beauty. He is not about to let a force as small as man get in the way of His glory, and He will have it. My challenge to you: Seek the Lord and His face in all things, but do not let yourself become consumed with those things, only Him who makes them beautiful.
love.

Last Night at Home

2007-01-03T13:17:00.000-08:00

Home? It sure feels like it. Family? To me they are. I have no other reactions, it's really that natural.

Here's my plan: To enjoy every last second that I have here, get on a stupid airplane, go to a stupid country, and live my stupid life. I know that it won't always seem quite so bad, but I always ending up asking myself while in Ghana, why do I live the way I do when there are people here living exactly how I want to? There's this feeling deep in my bones that I really hate whenever I think about leaving. Does that make me clingy? Is that how you spell clingy? There are so many questions that need answering before my head will clear.

Now here is an issue that I have not addressed. My friends at home are the best, I promise. We have great times and I really do lead an entertaining life in Georgia. But have you ever felt like there are more places than where you are now? I just can't shake it. And this isn't about Ghana, it's about the Lord's children. I have this feeling that I don't belong in my easy planned-out world that I have grown up in. When I see my world, there is apathy and cynicism and religiousity. But only when I look beyond my world, I see an innocence and an openness to the Gospel that I do not know.

I am writing all of this to get away from how very sad I am to leave the people I love so much here in Ghana, but this is still who I am. I only pray that it isn't just a season, because letting go is much too hard.
serious love.

Inspired by ... Tictum

2006-12-31T06:04:00.000-08:00

I've decided this will be a time for posting honesty. Honestly, I don't really want to post because time on the computer when I could be with my Mozleys seems like time spent poorly. For the total of the 4 people who are peculiar enough to stop and read my ridiculous thoughts, this is for you. And also because Tatum left me a comment when she was sitting right next to me last night, figure that one out.

I couldn't have been happier when I realized that I kind of fell right back into the things that I had left in Ghana this summer. It seemed strange that I had been away for so long, and this was really the only place that I wanted to be. We have been hanging in Accra for the past few days, and I have been seeing old friends and meeting lots of Anna's new friends. Tonight we'll stay up and throw rice or hunt for eggs or whatever it is that people do on New Year's, and I will undoubtedly be the first to bed. But things are just warming up, my friend(s). We leave for Cape Coast tomorrow, a sweet beach town, and then we are going on to Obuasi to see Adullam. I think the phrase is 'oh boy!'.

Well, this has been an incredibly fulfilling one-sided conversation, but I'm going to go rest so that I will make it past 10 o'clock tonight.
love.

psyched

2006-12-26T18:30:00.000-08:00

Current Music: Mat Kearney, who has never sounded so good by the way.
Current Mood: Oh I'm sorry you must've forgot that I am leaving for Ghana tomorrow.
Current Thought: Why two nostrils?

I feel like I have never fully expressed how much I love the Mozley family. Now, after a statement like that, two choices lay before me: to explain my previous thought, or to leave you all hanging. But as I hold some deep affection for those who have navigated their way through cyberspace to read me (read me?), my choice is to, and I quote, "fully express how much I love the Mozley family". here goes... Mike is my hero, for real. He is someone truly after the heart of Jesus and he is the leader of the incredible family that will be further described in the following sentences. I have never met someone so flexible to what the Lord has planned for them, and oh yeah the entire country of Ghana calls him Daddy. Claire is the Godliest woman I have ever met, she has incredible strength and was such a great mom to me from the second that I met her. And, similar to Mike, she's known worldwide as Mommy Claire. Then Anna, or ann to me. I could have never asked for a friend like ann. Our friendship started with me being a stupid sophomore boy in first block american lit and has led to our traveling around Africa together, only for me to find what a incredible person she really is and how much she loves Jesus. Maggie Mozley might be the funniest person ever born. She bakes like absolutely nobody's business, and she is the world hand-fart champion. I get freaked out when she's not wearing pink and sometimes I mistake her for Kip Dynamite. Luke might be the next world soccer phenomenon. Luke gave up his room for me this summer and has always been so cool towards me, even though I beat him so badly in tennis-soccer.

Ok so maybe I didn't fully explain how great they are, but I needed some channel to get out how much I have missed these folks and how freaking excited I am to see their faces. I am also way excited to see Tatum but I felt like if I included her in the Mozley family, what with her folks being on the same flight as me, things might get hostile. Everyone knows how belligerent the Downs are. but seriously Tatum you rule...hard.

So maybe this post wasn't a literary work of art. So maybe I'm not the Frederic Bazille of composition. So maybe I did know how to type the é in Frédéric, maybe I just didn't feel like it. Man I've been blogging for too long, get me out of here.
love.

Hardy har har

2006-12-24T06:12:00.000-08:00

Having already put my dangerously-small audience soundly to sleep, I've decided to post again! Now let's just keep our fingers crossed that in a few hours a Blogspot van won't pull up in my driveway and confiscate the cord that goes from my keyboard to my computer as retribution for this chickentype that I call a blog. Also, my keyboard is wireless so then we would truly have problems.

Not sure if anyone knows this but, I'm leaving for Ghana in 3 days! Ok so I might've already told everyone, above the height of 4' 5", that is, that I know, but hey it's the place that I want to be. AH! Anna and Mike and Claire and Mags and Luke and Tatum and Marge, There's no word to accurately describe how much I love those folks, so I am forced, right now, to invent one: Zello. Ok in blog world that line looks like any other line, but in pre-blog world I sat in front of the computer eating Jello for 15 minutes with a blank spot where my soon-to-be-invented word would go. Only now as I am writing this line do I realize that Zello is actually just a knock-off of Jello, which I just ate. Don't tell my brain though, it's still being prideful that it invented a completely original word. But anyhow, I have so much Zello for my friends in Ghana that my Zello bowl is just bursting. They're rad, and I am already complaining to myself that I won't have enought time with them. Think positive, ry. I can feel that I am gonna be such a brat when it comes time to leave. "But I don't wanna go!", I can just hear the 3-year-old inside of me cry when it's time to leave the kitchen where Mags and I will have been baking. It's only because of all my Zello for them, though. I am still hoping to see or get a chance to speak with Louise at Adullam in some way as well. I had hoped to travel there when Tatedoggie brought her folks up to Kumasi but now I dunno if they are doing that and I hope to find a way to go visit at least for a day or two, as I really feel called to maybe work there next summer.

For anyone wondering, the Christmas spirit is still alive, as Grant, Rick and I proved that last night (if you need to ask, then please do), but I will just give one clue for our theme last night amidst our search for the spirit of Christmas: "I love....Gooold".

I have had quite a few congratulations on entering the land of blogdom, and I have to say that I think I now know what it feels like when a new member of a gang is still wondering whether he did the right thing by joining and all the other gang members are trying to make him feel like he made a great choice. Anyway, thank you all for your positive reinforcement, I feel like a cocker spaniel who has been house trained. Well actually I don't and that's ridiculous, but I just saw my cocker spaniel and he is house trained, so good for him right? Yeah, dogs are great. Well, there's no end to my love for my fellow gang members, that is to say, blog readers out there, sorry i get the two confused, and I hope everyone has a great holiday.
love.

Can't Believe I'm Doing This

2006-12-23T07:14:00.000-08:00

So first of all, the internet kind of annoys me. With the exception of Wikipedia (moment of silence, please), I find the entire trend kind of ridiculous. BUT, I was happening to read a blog that a friend of mine sent to me, coupled with a request that I start 'blogging', and for some reason it sounded pretty cool. I'm not sure if I am just that bored or if having no caffeine in my system since 4 P.M. yesterday has addled my brain, but here goes nothing...

Is it strange that Jesus is teaching me to be silent right now? Well, some of you that know me well enough may be able to relate with Him there actually, because sometimes my mouth just won't shut. But I still find it strange. I have been asking for extravagant gifts and to prophesy and to lead with my words, but the Spirit just says "sshh!" I have shouted the name of Jesus and have sung for the Father at the top of my weak lungs, and still He leads me into silence. This is all very disorienting to me. Like I said before, I like very much to make noise with my mouth. There is no question of whether there is something to be grasped here, but I am still very lost. I have never before wanted to pray so badly and to speak my mind to my Father and yet, He leads me somewhere else.

Sometimes I have shouting wars with the Lord in my car (passersby think I'm completely crazy, by the way) where I scream for Him to speak, just to say one single word, and He completely drowns me out in silence. And let me just add for fear that the last line might lead anyone astray that I love Jesus of Nazareth with all of my heart, we are to be married and He is freaking all I think about. But we struggle nonetheless. And all the while, as we struggle, I feel His hand silently leading me into places that are not of this world, into mercy that no picture can paint. He has created this silence just for me, so I know that it must be good, but sometimes I completely forget that.

Ok... Well since my fingers would be furious at me if I deleted all that and spent an hour typing something less serious (I am the worst typist of all time), I guess it'll be the first post. Just know that writing is how I figure things out, and it's how I pour out my heart, so this is a little bit of my heart. Take it as seriously as you can, although I know that it is riddled with ridiculities.
much love.
Ryan