Anthology of All of Me

The War for Soul

2010-12-22T09:21:00.000-08:00

Dear friends, I urge you, as foreigners and exiles, to abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul.
1 Peter 2:11

This war staged in my soul, wherever bodily my soul may be, secretes its poisonous offspring into my heart. Where this noxious sludge is sent along the various canals of my bloodstream to every part of my body. As these liquid transgressions reach the barrier of my skin it finds the weak points and thousands of bumps are erected on the surface of my epidermis from the crown of my scalp to the lowliest of my toes; not an inch of my body is not covered by a miniature grave mound signifying any one of a million times in my life I have sinned against God. Each tiny boil on my skin’s surface holds tribute to a death I deserved to die, but that Jesus died instead. As these affronts to God seek escape, the guilt of knowing that each sin was a conscious decision made against God weighs down, pressing like so many tombstones on my shoulders.

And while I can hardly bare the pressure of my own self achieved guilt, I think back with sorrow, to the justification I claimed for allowing Christ to take the stripes I deserve: because He can take it, and I can’t. There is the Messiah, the promised Redeemer, the Son of God, taking a beating any other man who ever lived would have died from, but not my Lord, He did not die until the very moment He was ready to; when He breathed His last upon the cross.

Die though He did, death could not keep Him! To my ever-growing shame it is this marvelous, glorious and wondrous truth that weighs down on me. I know that because He is made new that I also can be, and it is because of this knowledge that I have not long ago sinned so easily. Forgive me Lord, but I am ever a fool. Even if you redeem me more times than there are stars in the sky, I am destined to fail you again. I am not worthy of the pain you have endured.

Alison

2010-12-08T11:03:00.000-08:00

He couldn’t help himself from stealing glances at her as they drove down the dreary street. A street not dreary for lack of sunshine or from absence of things to look at or marvel over, but dreary because of the way she made everything not pertaining to her dim in comparison of all that she was.

She was herself, as she had always been, a chalice of water from the fountain of youth, who’s waters promised renewed life and untold strength if only one could drink of her. Tyrone felt, as he always felt when he was in her presence, a deep tensing of muscles, a quickening of the heart, as if he were preparing to run a race to win her hand, the race announcer counting in slow motion 3, 2, 1. He breathed with forced rhythm, hoping to appear cool, calm and collected, as she appeared to be.

On the roads around them, all of nature appeared to take notice of her passing. Small birds would take to wing in an attempt to take in her image a few moments longer. Traffic lights, who were so cold and red-eyed to Tyrone, would wink green to her as she approached. Women in their finest outfits, of mid-summer blue and playschool red would slouch with lack of self-confidence as her gold-crowned, aqua blue eyes met their sepia colored iris’s. Men in fine made designer clothing would stand erect and flash their bleached-white teeth and UV-tanned skin in hopes to attract her fickle, ever-changing, life-giving gaze.

Luck

2010-12-07T16:03:00.000-08:00

Luck is a four-letter word that has no place in our society. When I think about luck, I see it as being this unattainable artifact like Midas’ hand that will turn everything I touch to gold. People have dried up fortunes, lost loved ones, and even shriveled their lives in pursuit of luck. Other people use luck as a scapegoat to keep from accepting their own failures, calling it unlucky. Luck has been fantasized as being something wondrous and mystical, but in reality luck equates to laziness. Laziness that is too lazy to search for the reason behind the happening.

Luck does to people what television does to the old brain. When an older person watches T.V. instead of doing something intellectually stimulating his brain will stop making neurons, and neurons are what keeps a mind from being a vegetable. Likewise, luck, keeps a person from searching why; why did I get a flat tire (because I drove over that broken glass), why did I end up with such a great girlfriend (because I wooed her with everything I had, I put in the work), why did I strikeout in baseball (because I didn’t keep my eye on the ball). Instead of growing our understanding and furthering our minds so we can better understand something and then reproduce it, we call it luck and leave it at that, “I’m just lucky, I guess.”

The idea of “luck as a lady” is one way that our society has made luck to be something desirable. Why? Because if a person can get someone to believe and desire luck, then that same person can make money off of the believer. Namely, gambling. According to “savingadvice.com” the chance that a single person will win the lottery is about 120 million to 1! So why are rational, educated people still spending thousands of dollars in hopes to someday win? Because luck is sexy. Luck is attractive, and instead of seeing the lottery as a 1 in 120 million shot, they see it as trying to woo a fickle model, and hey, maybe someday she’ll take pity on you and give you a hand out.

Luck is not a clover. Must I get into superstition and charms? Four leaf clovers belong in lovely fields or in my cereal, not in my pocket when I go in for the big job interview. This idea that luck, , can dwell in certain special charms is both another scheme to make money and another lie to give an object the credit that something, or somebody else deserves. My theology speaks for me in this case: I believe in a God who gives every good gift. This doesn’t mean this same God doesn’t give the bad gifts, but I do believe that “every good gift comes down from the Father of lights.” (James 1:17) But when I give a charm or the concept of luck the credit for my good gifts what am I giving God? Say I gave my nephew a gift for his birthday, and instead of thanking me and believing I gave it to him, he believes and thanks a picture of a cow. When his next birthday comes along, he hopes in the cow and relies on it to give him what he wants. Doesn’t this sound ridiculous? Yet people do this with horoscopes all the time. Luck is just like this.

The idea of providence is much like fate, or destiny. Except that providence implies a being bent on protecting and providing for me. This being, who I know to be God, is not random or fickle like luck is, but He is purposeful and active in His providence. Assuming God where a die, and I were to roll this die, the number that would come up would not be random, but would be destined to come up for a purpose long before the earth was created. The depth and magnitude of providence and pre-destiny, goes much further than the random whimsical nature of luck. When looking at luck from this perspective it seems so frail and childish, as if those who believe in luck are ignorant of the big picture much like the child that believes Santa Claus fills his stocking. Not that I understand God, or His ways, but I believe in His omniscience. Faith in that way is different than luck. If my nephew would have faith that I would give him a good gift for his birthday, he know who it was that gives him the gift, and the thanks and glory, if you will, is placed rightly.

Luck is not only whimsical, ignorant and deceptive, but it is also an idol. It’s true. Luck takes the place of God. A person who believes fully in luck, has nothing to give to God because luck steals what God is due. Luck didn’t give mankind breath or sustain our life every day, yet we call ourselves lucky when we escape death, giving the glory of our life to a dead ideal. May we give credit where credit is due, and choose to not believe in something because our culture tells us to. If we are to believe in something, let it be proven, unlike the concept of a lucky rabbit’s foot, that ironically was extremely unlucky for the rabbit.

Class

2010-12-07T15:45:00.000-08:00

Sadistic was the being who first nurtured the brainchild some call social ranking. This way of advancing one’s self by degrading another to the point of stripping away humanity from both parties is not only cruel but also costly. For such an act blurs the image wrought into humans before time, and likens us more to animals.

Wealth, or the accumulation of resources, is the factor that defines class across cultures. Or perhaps it is the desire to see one’s self raised above another, with a disregard of what happens to that other. There are three levels of societies that have class systems in place: Egalitarian, rank and stratified.

Egalitarian societies have little or no segregation based on wealth. It is interesting that the societies that have this level of social class are people who live and depend on people. People groups who live in community with each other are less willing to use their neighbor as a human stepladder to increase their own standing.

Rank societies are sort of like the typical medieval society, in which the king and his nobles all get special privilege and everyone else must work harder to see that they get it.

Stratified societies are those that are most inhuman. These societies hold up those who are wealthy, powerful and prestigious and ignore or push down those who aren’t. Marginalization is a huge side effect for this type of society. These are found in industrialized societies that have political systems. I’m sure that some sort of popular media telling people what to love and what to hate plays a hand as well.

I'll give you fifty guesses which type of society we Americans live in, but you're only going to need one. This is why the Christian church is moving toward small home communities. Even within a larger church, it is important to be in a small community in which the members care and rely on each other. That's what we do at Endeavor, the church I belong to. Our Missional Communities are the places to meet needs and to have your own needs met.

Thoughts About Marriage

2010-12-07T15:32:00.000-08:00

It would seem to be difficult to give a singular, cross-cultural definition of marriage. What I mean is, I have found that marriage is much like the color red. There is a story about a tribe in Indonesia who didn’t have the color “red” in their vocabulary, and what they saw when someone like me see’s red is merely a different shade of another color. Marriage is much like this. I have gotten my personal definition of marriage from my parents, marriage is between one man, and one woman, and this union is meant to be forever; no divorce. This personal definition was reinforced by the Christian cultural influence I grew up under. My beliefs in Christianity lead me to believe that marriage; that is, true marriage is exactly how the Bible describes it: between one man and one woman. I understand that a person’s understanding of marriage is heavily impacted on their own personal religion or world-view or culture. What I am saying is if I am to believe in Christianity then I must believe that marriage was itself conceived and created as the Bible describes it in Genesis with Adam and Eve. This train of thought leads me to say that all other additions or variations to what other cultures may say marriage is, are tweakings of what marriage was meant to be.
Now that my personal convictions are laid to bear, I believe some people like anthropologist Gary Ferraro would have me believe that marriage is a union (legal, implied, understood etc) between two or more organisms (usually involving a man and a woman or some combination of one or more of these) for the benefit of both parties, and the parties-parties (or family’s etc). Somehow this definition weakens the potential and the substance of what marriage truly is.

Status Update

2010-02-10T14:49:00.000-08:00

How’s everybody doing today? What’s on you’re minds? I’ll share something with you that’s been on my mind. Have any of you every taken a class on how to share with others what is on your mind? have you every been taught how to say what you’re thinking? For most of us the answer is “no”.
This is a process each of us go through many times a day,
“Hello, how are you today?”
“I am fine thank you. And you’re self?”
“How’s it going, man?”
“good, you?”
“What’s up?”
“nothing, what about you?”
you get it. We’re raised to inquire of others how they are, what’s their status. We’re told it is polite to announce our state of mind to the people around us, and more so if they ask.
Well this isn’t entirely true...
We are raised to be curious as to what’s going on in the live’s of the people around us, and to proclaim to the world what we are up to, although sometimes in the most subtle of ways (shoes, clothing, backpack, etc.) because of this, it comes as no surprise that the most addicting drug on the internet promotes us to express our feelings and announce to the world what we are up to. I’m referring of course to Facebook.

We all sense it, whether you have put words to it or not, this status updating has gotten out of control! Which is why I will attempt to explain how to post a proper status update on Facebook keeping three things in mind.

First, Facebook sets the criteria in the very status update box that many of us spam with our mindless updates, including myself from time to time. They ask, “what’s on your mind?” and let me get this out straight away: inviting people to join animal farm is not a status update! If it were you’re update it might read, “I’m playing a really dumb online game, would anyone care to join me?” However, by our first criteria we can see that even this wouldn’t work, because when you’re playing animal farm we all know that nothing is on your mind, at all. That’s why you’re playing animal farm!

Second, a status update shouldn’t be whatever menial task you find yourself doing at the moment you update. for example, “I’m playing a really dumb online game, would anyone care to join me?” or “I’m doing homework” or “I’m drinking coffee”
The reason this is not an acceptable status update is because when someone asks you “what’s on your mind?” you wouldn’t respond by saying “I’m drinking coffee.” The question, “What’s on your mind?” is asking something deeper than just what you are up to at that moment.

Third, song lyrics aren’t a status update. let’s go back to the formal question, “What’s on your mind?” yes, a song might be stuck in your head but that isn’t what’s on your mind. hopefully, you’re thinking about more than the latest pop song lyrics.

If everyone on Facebook were to keep these three things in mind to proper status updating, it would cut down 75% of the mindless, attention seeking status updates that most of us try to ignore anyway.
Lets take a look at what a good status update does. Good status updates are thoughts that you have that you might want some feedback on. When a loving father asks his teenage son or daughter “what’s on your mind?” the son or daughter would respond with whatever life issue they are facing at that moment. Like, “I just don’t know how to impress this certain someone.” and then dad would give advice. or, “Why does everyone find me so attractive?” I’m sure everyone here identifies with that one :)

I’m here to say that the social grouping that is your friends list, is your social parent and you can tell them what is on your mind to share a little of the frustrations, happiness, questions, enigma’s or the gripping thoughts that subdue your thinking. So they can know you a little better and so you can be known a little better.

So the next time you update you’re status, think first, is this really something on my mind? second, is this just a menial task? third, is this a song lyric? Keeping these three things in mind, together we can change the face of facebook.

Circles and Lines

2010-02-01T17:33:00.000-08:00

My name is Tyrone Wing. My birthday is October 25th 1985. You know I wonder about birthdays. What is a birthday? strictly broken down it is the day of our birth, right? And what is birth but a new beginning? The beginning of what?

Well, anyone who’s seen the Lion King can answer that right?
Our first birthday is our first introduction to the great circle of life. I think the Lion King got it mostly right, but it’s not THE Great Circle of Life because life has many circles...

Think about it. You wake up, you get up, you clean up, you tank up, you head out, you move your inbox to your outbox, things go in one ear and out the other, you head out the door, then into your house, get some food into your belly, get some TV time in and then get in bed. Day in day out, month in month out, year in year out.

Those are just the daily circles, maybe known as the daily grind. and those circles are ok right, not very exciting, but ok. Circles are very natural. Think about the way the Earth orbits around the Sun, or the way the Moon orbits around the Earth. Some circles in our lives can be healthy for us and can help us get to where we want to go, sort of like the wheels on a car. I think about good work ethic, or disciplines. But we also have circles in our lives that break us down. These circles are like the spirals in a whirl pool that want to drag us down to the bottom of the ocean. Where we slowly loose air until we give up the struggle.
Here are some examples of hurtful circles:

I have a friend named Lucy, who grew up in a home with a dad who was a mean drunk. Whenever he got angry he would take it out on Lucy who shrank inside of herself and became like a flower trapped under a glass. Lucy grew up and found a man who’s passionate about loving her, but is equally passionate about hurting her when he gets ticked off. She was born in this circle and she doesn’t break out because as messed up as it is, she’s comfortable.

Or Devon who has a monkey on his back that he calls METH. He started out with gateway substances like alcohol and marijuana in Middle School because he wanted to fit in. Devon was lonely and it was easy and fun. But it’s not fun anymore ten years down the road when there’s an ever increasing craving and an ever diminishing payoff, he feels like there’s a wild animal clawing at his insides. So he cleans up and relapses and cleans up and relapses day in and day out and he’s trapped in this circle and he can’t find his way out.

Or my Grandparents who sit in their living room eating mac and cheese while watching the evening news. Their house smells of dust and loneliness. They don’t talk much anymore, there’s nothing to talk about. They’ve grown up, they’ve grown a family, they’ve grown their nest egg and now they realize that they’ve grown apart from each other and they don’t know how to find their way back into the discolored photographs where they hugged and laughed. Did the smiles get lost in the wrinkles or the love get lost in the changing of seasons? Whatever the case, they’re too tired to break out of their circle and now Grandpa and Grandma have contented themselves to waste away the rest of their lives married, but not engaged.

So, circles in our life can be healthy and even natural, like day and night, or the changing of the seasons. But they can also hurt us. Isn’t there a third option? What happened to the old american dream of progression and innovation? what happened to creativity? can we make a circle something that doesn’t loop back on it’s self? can we make a circle into a line?
For example:

My friend Jason wakes up in the Union Gospel Mission in Vancouver, British Columbia and as his feet part the sheets he stops and sinks deep inside himself ignoring the two-week tremors his body shakes with. He feels his soul inside feeling like it’s gasping for air and he makes a conscious decision that today… today he’s not going to relapse. Today he’s getting his life in order.

Or a young black preacher with an eye on the times calls his country to racial equality. He is loved and he is hated. He is praised by some, but by many he is reviled in the worst ways imaginable. Despite the hate mail and the death threats Martin Luther King Jr. sees his path clearly.

On October 25th 1985, I was taken from my mothers womb and placed on orbit that would eventually lead to my death. But how am I going to live while on this orbit? will I live in depression or in hope? will it be in destructive circles? or in healthy circles? Will I live in repetitive apathy? or in progressive linear adventure?

Karina the hurricane

2009-12-03T12:31:00.001-08:00

A couple of Thursdays ago I did my laundry at Pastor Jered’s house. I usually do this in order to save quarters from the laundry mat down the street that likes to eat my socks. While I was there, Jered asked me if I wanted to go with him to an appointment to talk to a guy about the missional communities that we’ve started. I jumped at the chance to share, so off we went. I offered to drive. On the way out to the car Jered asked if we could stop at the safeway down the street to pick up some beers as a welcome gift to the guy’s house.
We were standing in line discussing the product in front of us, Bumpits. We couldn’t understand why someone would want to put something on their head that is a combination of the words, “bum” and “pits.” Thats when we heard the sobs and hysteric shouting. A lady in a two piece adidas track warm up uniform was standing at the customer service desk on the phone, with tears pouring down her face. She looked to be in her mid 30‘s and her short brown hair was askew and her face was smudged with what remained of her makeup.
All the people in the safeway were purposefully not looking her direction. I won’t lie, it was extremely awkward! The awkwardness ended abruptly as the sobbing woman slammed the phone on the hook and took deliberate, measured, chaotic paces out of the store. Jered paid for the beers and we received a smile from our checker that seemed to say, “I’m really sorry about the crazy lady in the track warm up.”
While my Pastor and I took deliberate, measured, sure steps out of the safeway, Jered asked me if I wouldn’t mind if we looked for the track warm up lady.
Once outside she wasn’t hard to find. She was pacing the walkway in the parking lot with joint in her hand. We approached. Jered asked her what was going on and if we could help her in any way. She said it is a long story but the gist of it is she’s stranded and needs to call her boyfriend to come get her. Jered lent her his phone, and we relived the hysterical shouts that experienced in the safeway. She started to cry as she screamed at the guy on the other end. She yelled her fury so everyone within ear shot would know that you don’t just leave someone in a strange town with no money, no phone and no hope! but there was hope. “This sounds like it isn’t worth it” Jered interrupted her, “We’ll give you a ride where ever you need to go.” I smiled. That meant I was giving her a ride. But I jumped at the chance to help this lady, although at the time I wasn’t sure why.
In the car there was an awkward pause that I knew was coming. “So,” I said, “where am I going?” Once the silence was broken the track warm up lady told us her name was Karina. Jered and I introduced ourselves and Karina began to divulge her dramatic life’s story to us, while I drove where her fingers pointed for me to go. To sum it up, Karina was from Astoria up north, and she was here in Portland for a hospital visit. She had come here with her boyfriend who was everything that your parents say to stay away from in a man. Karina said that she has this problem of seeing just a little bit of good in everyone and then believing in that good more than she should. Jered encouraged her to get out of that unhealthy relationship and find a church body where she can be loved as a part of God’s family. We encouraged her as best we could in everything she told us.
As we arrived at her fathers house we began to pray for her, and she said that she really appreciated our help and prayers. She said that she was impressed to find people in a town like Portland who would love and care for her even though she was a wreck.
As I think back on this day, I’m glad that Jered was there, because I would have done what I always do in those types of circumstances: ignore it. I don’t know where I started thinking this way, but I always think that people who need help like Karina did are just trying to scam charitable people. Pastor Jered helped to show me what loving people really is, in applicable ways. God was glorified by our willingness to help, and Karina was saved from a night alone on the street. I feel the callus that has kept me from helping others being peeled away. God please, continue to tear that callus off!

Tegra the Rock

2009-11-03T17:18:00.000-08:00

What would life be like if nothing was stable; if everything was in a constant state of change, flux or inconsistency? If at one moment our footing was solid and then at another moment it was giving away. Life would be difficult if we had no way of knowing that gravity would be in effect in the next moment or not. The point is that we need consistency. We need certain things to be solid and unchanging. We need to be able to count on something. By simply knowing that the sun will rise tomorrow I can have hope for a new day. By understanding that my parents and my friends love me, I can have confidence in who I am.

If we can understand what it is to be consistent, then we can begin to find and give that understanding to others. The dictionary defines integrity in three ways: the quality of being honest and morally upright, the quality of being whole or undivided and an unimpaired condition. Integrity is what is at the core of everything that is solid and unchanging in life. Some synonyms of integrity include honesty, incorruptibility, soundness, completeness and continuity.

The book of Proverbs gives some examples of the benefits of having integrity in one’s morals, “The man of integrity walks securely, but he who takes crooked paths will be found out” (10:9); and “The integrity of the upright guides them, but the unfaithful are destroyed by their duplicity.” (11:3) I have heard it said that, “Having integrity is like having a shield that will protect you from slander.” In other words, if I am truthful and consistent about everything to everyone then I am hiding nothing and I am protected by truthfulness. Most of the book of Proverbs is written in this good way, bad way style, it’s consistent. One could say that the book of Proverbs has integrity.

Integrity can be understood by the things that it isn’t. For example integrity isn’t deceptive, therefore, integrity is honest all the time. Integrity isn’t hypocritical, therefore, integrity is always constantly constant. Integrity isn’t corrupt, therefore, integrity will never succumb to selfishness or pride.

I once wrote a short story in which the characters were all traits in a person. I called the character that embodied integrity: Tegra the Rock. The setting was a fantastical world of knights and dragons, and Tegra was the king’s champion. Tegra was a monster of a man; standing like a giant over all other men. His muscles, like his mind, were carved from constant devotion to protecting his king. Never was he off in his judgment, never did he allow his own ambitions to blind his actions. When the castle was at war with another kingdom, Tegra would lead the army to victory with his unwavering morals and bravery. When the king fought in a battle himself, he would never need to worry about an attack from behind because he knew that Tegra was there guarding his back.

I have been told that the ultimate test of integrity is what I do when no one else is looking. When I’m alone and no one will ever know what I’m doing, do I stick to my moral code or do I become someone else? Do I act the same way around my pastor as I act around my coworkers? Integrity can be applied to every part of my life. In relationships a person with integrity will be forgiving and loving to every one, no matter the situation. In business a person with integrity will be honest in his dealings and carry through with the promises he makes. In day to day life a person with integrity will be the same person morally everyday regardless of the weather or the amount of sleep he has.

At times having integrity isn’t easy. If my moral code is against gambling and my friends all want to go out gambling then I must remain unwavering in my beliefs and “go against the flow.” Having integrity means that I won’t remain silent when the truth is stifled. Having integrity could hurt some people but integrity communicates clearly and gives the hearer dignity and closure on a subject. Integrity is most often accompanied with other traits such as love, boldness, forgiveness and patience.

Integrity seems foolish to some people because some say that we are an ever changing species or, in other words, to stay the same is to fall behind in the evolutionary race. That’s one perspective, and I would agree that a person who is willing to occasionally compromise his morals will most likely do better in this world, by this worlds standards. However, it is a matter of perspective. Emanuel Kant, an 18th century philosopher, reasoned that human kind was indeed, created and that our creator must be a being who always was and always will be unchanging, a God having ultimate integrity. If this is true, and if what the book of Genesis says, “Man was created in His image,” is true, then humans likewise were originally created to be unchanging, consistent, having the very same continuity that our maker has.

Integrity has been modeled by many people. Kings, priests, presidents, fathers, mothers, and role models of all kinds have been examples of integrity to many people, but no example of integrity can ever be truer than the example of Jesus Christ. Jesus claimed to be both the son of the God, who created the world and God himself. The book of John says that Jesus came to earth to re-establish the relationship that humanity had lost with God. Elsewhere the Bible says that He lived in our world but never sinned, He was never dishonest, never two faced and never changing. In the book of Matthew, chapter four, we are told that Jesus went out into the wilderness to be alone and was tempted by Satan. Jesus had fasted for a long time and Satan told Him to make bread out of rocks and eat it, but Jesus refused Satan by saying, “It is written: 'Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” Jesus had integrity even when dealing with Satan. More books have been written about Jesus than about any other man, ever. Jesus was the bench mark for integrity yet, as the Bible records, He was killed for proclaiming the truth of who He was, an act that reveals his integrity. Jesus remained the embodiment of integrity even through suffering. Whether Jesus was alone, in front of city officials or being mocked by His own people, He remained consistent in every way. I hope that I can hone integrity the way that Jesus did.

Our footing can never be sure on unsteady ground, our lives cannot have rhythm in a fickle atmosphere and human kind can never have peace in a deceitful, hypocritical, corrupt world. The only way that man kind can find harmony is by living with the integrity that we are called to. The integrity of our maker is the key. So long as there is unfaithfulness and untrustworthiness, there will always be pain. True integrity has been modeled for us perfectly. It is time for each of us to begin to live with integrity so that we can provide sure footing for those around us. It is time to change the world by being unchanging.

titles

2009-10-31T16:48:00.000-07:00

Humans have titles for everything from work positions like, “barista” or “universal associate,” to lifestyle titles like, “beatnik” or “jock.” Sometimes these titles are thrust onto us by our peers. For example, poor Jonny in my 4th grade class always smelled like cats. He was given the title of “the poor kid” because he just loved to wear his favorite set of clothes and loved his cats. Eventually, I discovered that he wasn’t poor at all, but enjoyed the attention and popularity that being “the poor kid” gave him. Jonny continued to live the title of “the poor kid” until high school when he morphed the title to “Monastic” and “minimalist.”

Other times a title is something that we can proclaim to everyone. Like my friend Scott, who told everyone that he would one day be a comic book writer. After his announcement people decided that he was the authority on all things superhero and fantastical.

In a classroom the title that each person chooses directly affects the grade that that person receives. I have observed a few different titles that can be owned in a classroom, and depending on which one a person owns, that person can pass or fail the class. They can truly learn something or nothing at all, and they can have a good classroom experience or a horrible one. The titles that I have observed are: the 110%-er, the natural, the priority person, the attention grabber, the C man, the shrugger, the daydreamer, and the rebel.

My first observation is the title that will most likely have the highest grade. The 110%-er I always picture as a woman, maybe because my girlfriend owns this title through and through. There she is, sitting in the front of class like always, she always beats everyone to the classroom. I’m sure that she knows what it means to be fashionably late because she knows just about everything, but she never is fashionably late. Fashion is, of course, all business. For her, clothing must reflect the organization and focus of her mind. She takes notes like she takes breaths. She has her assignments finished a week ahead of everyone else and although her free time is taken up with worries about how to fit an extra hour of studying in, she finds great self satisfaction with every “A” she earns.

My second observation could easily rival the 110%-er, if only he’d try. The natural is a person who understands the curriculum in the class like he understands walking. It just comes to him. I usually see this title on a cocky guy, who often smirks at the frivolous note taking of the 110%er. It’s often said that, “He has so much potential, if only he would apply himself.” Depending on the effort put forth by the natural, he could easily have the crown of top student, but is usually too lazy to earn it. The natural likes to live in the moment, equipped for each challenge only with what he naturally has. The natural is usually quite witty and easy going, and although he’ll probably end up with a “B” his overall classroom experience will be beneficial to him.

This next observation is one that doesn’t exist in every classroom, but I’ve been finding more and more at community college: the priority person. I have seen the priority person as both male and female, but this title is always clearly distinguished. This person will usually be late to class, sit in the back of the room and leave early. I call this person the priority person because they usually have higher priorities outside of the class. A family that they have to take care of, a full time job, or maybe even a love for video games takes first priority. The priority person may see class as a nuisance but they understand that the class will help them, in the long run, to take care of their main priority. Homework is usually turned in late or on time but incomplete. When the teacher calls on them to add to the classroom discussion they usually repeat something that’s already been said. If they know the answer to something they will strive to tell it because they know that the next question they probably don’t know. “B’s” and “C’s” are usually what the priority person ends up with and because they are taking the class for the benefit of their priority they feel great accomplishment and purpose in passing a class.

This observation is one that has mostly been done in a mirror. The attention grabber or class clown as it was known as in high school, is a title of a person either brimming with confidence or else suffering from such a lack of confidence that they would accept being laughed at as a sort of reassurance. The attention grabber, is usually a guy who just wants to be noticed, whether by a certain girl, every girl or for the attention of the father like or mother like teacher. He always has a comment ready for the amusement of the class and often comments on things like he is on “Mystery Science Theater.” The attention grabber is usually full of wit, but lacking motivation or purpose to do anything productive with it. The attention grabber is happy with a “B” and sees each class as a social event, thus it is almost always fun.

My next observation is one that I believe is most frustrating to teachers because no matter how much effort is put into teaching them, they still end up with a “C”. The “C” man (pardon the play on words), or otherwise known as the procrastinator, considers the idea of “good, hard work” a character flaw. The “C” man often lives under the motto that “Nothing can’t be done in five minutes”. While the natural can pump out an “A” paper in five minutes, the “C” man would consider anything higher than a “B” an insult. He would think that he could have spent less time doing the paper and more time doing something more fun. Fun is often the motivator for the “C” man, and so class becomes something that is a fun-interrupter. He will often sit in the middle or on the outskirts of the class and seek to avoid attention because getting attention will mean more participation out of him, meaning more work which is less fun. If he passes with a “C” he is happy, but overall he is bored of the classroom.

I personally don’t understand the observation I call the shrugger because why would a person take a class if they don’t really want to be there? The shrugger can be defined under the trite description, “Too cool for school” (2cool 4school). This person tends to think that he or she is better than the class. They don’t really care about the content, perhaps thinking that he or she will never use the information in day to day life. Participation is minimal and so is the effort put into the homework. The shrugger is always finding ways to amuse his or her self. Examples of this are often texting in class, excessive doodling, and all sorts of blank stares. When this person is called upon in class they almost never know what the question even is. The shrugger will usually slide by with a “C” or else get a “D” and beg for extra credit at the end of the term so he or she doesn’t have to retake the class.

The day dreamer is a classic observation and isn’t an everyday identity, but one that nearly every student will dawn for a short period here and there. The day dreamer is detrimental to the student’s grade because once one assumes the title of day dreamer all the discussion, class participation and knowledge is missed for the time while this title is claimed. The good thing about this title is that it is easy to shake off even in the middle of class. This person usually sits by the window or as far from the teaching as possible and is never fully present in class. The day dreamer will usually jump or be startled when called upon as if the utterance of his or her name physically pulls them from where ever they are and slams them back into their seat. Because this title is usually not owned by the same student every day, the letter grade given to this person varies, the more this title is used the worse the grade.

My last observation is a title that can be the most damaging to the student’s grade. The rebel is a student that generally gives an aura that says, “I don’t care.” This person will contradict the professor as often as they can and will usually be talking during class. Homework is nearly never done in an act of defiance. They never completely face the teacher. They often sit slumped in their chair and usually arrive late. While the rebel will usually secretly enjoy the class because they can express their rebelliousness, they also normally don’t pass, which causes their enjoyment to be cut short.

I have just listed and defined some key titles that I have observed in classes. Like the over used saying goes, “Knowing is half the battle.” Once we understand these titles we can choose which title we can comfortably fit in and one that will still give us our desired grade. It is important to know that our titles can be changed! Just like my friend Jonny, who changed what he was known for, we too can change how people view us and what they expect from us. We need to be who we want to be and not who our peers tell us to be. If we choose a poor title we could flunk a class or have a horrible classroom experience. We must choose wisely.

Hide and Seek

2009-10-20T13:14:00.000-07:00

This is an essay I wrote for my writing class!

As a child, I was fascinated by the game, “Hide and Seek”. Whether hiding or seeking, I was brilliant. Now that I’m older I wonder if parts of who I am are hidden, and if other parts of me must become the seeker.
Luke Skywalker, when he found his calling to be a Jedi, could look back and see that his calling was with him from the very beginning when he was shooting swamp rats with unusual accuracy. When Frodo Baggins found that he was the ring bearer of the One Ring, he could look back and see that he was destined for adventure from the very beginning when he day dreamed of having his own adventures like uncle Bilbo had. Harry Potter, when he found out that he was a wizard, could look back and see that he was something special when strange and magical things would happen when he got emotional. So, it isn’t uncommon for characters to go looking them selfs. Often when looking, one will search in unlikely places. Once found, one will see that one’s true self was there from the very beginning.
In 2006, I went on a journey to find myself. Growing up in the conservative Baptist Church, I wanted to know if I could continue living as a “Christian” or if all this time I was attending, practicing, and aligning my life with the Christian faith because my family, church and friends said that I must. In order to discover whether or not a relationship with the creator of the universe was possible in my life, two of my friends and I devised a plan to go to Australia on a missions trip with a group called Youth With A Mission (YWAM). For me, if I didn’t experience something real, something not of me, something divine on this trip, I believed that I would never be able to experience this supernatural relationship.
In Christian circles, this idea of discovering a relationship with Jesus that has nothing to do with friends or family, is called “owning your faith”. I think that anyone who confesses any kind of faith in anything should take time to own it. In my opinion the greatest fault in any organized religion, is a lack of personal ownership.
In an attempt at personal ownership and also in a young, rebellious action I got a series of religious tattoos. Hoping that if I owned a relationship with Jesus outwardly on my skin I would own the relationship inwardly as well. At the time I had five tattoos. They were all inspired by a series of dreams were I survived a horrible catastrophe, like a car crash or a mugging, with no harm but a few scratches and scars that formed words and images that are now the tattoos that I have. The first was on my back and in Greek was written the phrase “weapon of God”. The second was on my left wrist and in hebrew was written “man of valor”. The third was on my right wrist and in Hebrew was written “salvation” with a small Gothic cross underneath it. The fourth was on my left ear and was a cross, and the fifth was behind my right ear and in Hebrew was written “still small voice”. The last one comes from a story about a prophet of God that searched for God in all these different places, but only found Him when he quieted his own mind and waited on God to find the prophet. And God did. God spoke to him in a still small voice.
The money spent on the tattoos didn’t help to pay for the trip to Australia, but in four months, my two friends and I raised the sixty-five hundred dollars for the three of us to spend four months in Australia. “Miraculous,” some people called it. At the time I called it good fortune and generous church goers.
If people who do things because of a claim to religion did that thing because of a personal devotion to the religion rather than for personal gain, then we would have eliminated the majority of causes for global conflict. Thoughts like this and others flashed through my mind as I sat on the cramped airplane headed to Australia. Our flight left LA in the evening on the sixteenth of April. After a seventeen hour, direct, red eye flight to Sydney, we landed in the evening on the sixteenth of April! Sort of like going back in time.
From the moment we landed I was eager to commence with finding myself. The next few months seemed to me like an over-used movie transition. I was praying and seeking God every morning, still not convinced that I had found Him. I was helping to lead a youth team on Saturdays that kept juvenile delinquents out of trouble by playing different sports with them every week; from squash to cricket and rugby to ultimate frisbee. Still, no God. I was going to a mall every Thursday to tell anyone who would listen about how great having a relationship with Jesus was. Although I wasn’t talking from personal experience. I was also working in a skate shop that the youth organization owned to help provide funding for the ministries that they offered, such as the Saturday youth program. And I was singing and worshiping with the rest of the people that I was living with on the ministry’s base.
About three months in, everything happened. If I were to continue with the movie analogy, this is when the music would have faded and instead of flashing scenes of different things happening to me, the camera would have focused on a scene of me sitting in a room.
The room is big. It is frequently used to throw concerts, which makes it odd that there is blue carpet on the floor. There are a few white pillars with peeling paint supporting the roof, and two large windows overlooking a second story view of downtown Newcastle. I am sitting on the floor, cross legged, with twenty-two other people, who, like me, are listening to a speaker tell us what we already know. She, the speaker, is saying how Jesus’ death and resurrection is what makes it possible for us to speak to God. She is saying that God is incapable of being in the presence of sin. Holy means, set apart. Complete holiness means that if God and sin were to be in the same space the sin would burn up to nothing until only what is pure remains. That is why it is impossible to speak to God, because every word is sprung from a tongue that would wither to nothingness in His presence. That is also why I cannot hear God speak, because to hear His holy words would melt my ears to oblivion. But Jesus, being God’s son, being holy, became a man, took my sin upon Himself and put it to death with Himself. In that act, Jesus gives me His rightness. He gives me His own spirit, so that I may communicate with Him, and Jesus can be the mediator between me and God, between sin and holiness.
The speaker goes on to say that God is often called our Father. What kind of father wouldn’t want to speak or to hear from their children? A good question. She tells us all to find a spot in the room to be alone. She says pray to God, through Jesus. That’s why when I pray I say, “in Jesus name, amen” I think to my self. Then she says to wait for God to speak to you. So I do. I go to a spot by myself and kneel down and pray. I say something like, “God, when I was little, I asked Jesus into my life. That’s supposed to make me Your son. So if you really are my Father then you should want to talk to me because I want to hear you! I’m going to lay here,” at this point I laid prostrate on the blue carpet, “until you speak to me.” The carpet smelled like tennis shoes. Not new tennis shoes but well used ones, but not like feet. It wasn’t unpleasant. My eyes were closed, and though I knew that people around the room were talking to each other and praying, I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t hear anything but my own breathing which was surprisingly deep and full, though a bit uneven. I could feel the carpet under me, it was hard and uncomfortable, like an indoor putting green. I waited for some time, but also maybe no time. Time was irrelevant. Then the sharp, salty sting that I know so well came to the corner of my eyes. “God, why won’t you speak to me? I just want to know what you, my Father, thinks of me!” The carpet vanished, I smelt and felt nothing but the warm tears flowing down my face, “If you won’t speak to me, how am I supposed to know that I am even Your son?” I wasn’t laying on the floor; the floor was gone. I wasn’t floating either. I was again waiting in silence, being as still as possible so I wouldn’t miss a single whispered syllable that was something other than my sobs.
I wouldn’t describe them as words, or even as thoughts. They weren’t images, nor were they a general impression. They were all of those, and none of them. They were something like a way of communication that is beyond me, and yet, I was familiar with them. I was being asked a question, “What have I written on your body?” I was shocked. Was this a dream? Should I respond or do I wait for more. Is this rhetorical? Suddenly I remembered the speaker from before talking about how I shouldn’t put God in a box and expect Him to speak to me on my terms, or in my preferred way. So I responded, “Nothing...?”
“Why do you have the tattoos that you have?”
“Youthful rebelliousness?”
“I want so badly to tell you what I think of you. I inspired the desire to get the tattoos that you have so you can always look and see what I think about you. What do they say?”
I looked at my right wrist, then at my left. “They say, salvation and man of valor.”
“You have received Me, and so you are My son, and not just that, but also a mighty man of valor. What else?”
I remembered my back, “weapon of God.”
“I intend to work through you to spread hope, love and peace; all of which I have given you.” The carpet materialized underneath me. The smell of tennis shoes seemed a little more pleasant. I knew what God thought of me, and had truly experienced Him! I began to see, almost at once, God’s activity in my life since before I had a life. The way my parents raised me in the church, protecting me from life damaging sin and teaching me how to live a moral life. Sixty-five hundred dollars in four months! My small home church wasn’t that rich, but my father, He “owns the cattle on a million hills.” (Psalms fifty)
The flight home reminded me of an adventure that had just begun. Like Luke Skywalker, Frodo Baggins, and Harry Potter, I knew what and who I was. I didn’t know exactly how that would play out, but I could put a name to all the things that happened around me. I could see now, that this is what I always was: A son of God, a man of valor, a servant and weapon in God’s kingdom.

A mornings thought

2009-10-02T23:16:00.000-07:00

Selfishness is at the center of every struggle, every decision, every plan set forth by the human heart, save Christ’s.
Perfect relationship; that is, perfect unity, can only be achieved when selfishness is replaced with love. Love that will act like selfishness on the behalf of others.
In other words, love that will be selfish for the well being of others.
When we individually hold ourselves up, there is nothing to keep us from falling, but when everyone is holding everyone else up, nothing can cause us to fall, except selfishness.

Summer Blues

2009-09-09T19:13:00.000-07:00

(deep breath through both nostrils) AHHHH Summer!

Summer is so nice. warmth. biking. hiking. swimming. so many things make summer so incredible. And because the majority of people are out in the sun, subconsciously collecting vitamin b through their skin, everyone is so happy.
I took a pole a week at starbucks, every time a customer would buy a coffee and would look around outside and say, "So what do you think of this weather?" eight people out of ten would tell me that it's wonderful! "summer is my favorite time of year" many people would say.
I myself, would appear in the other two of ten people who said that they prefer the fall.

what about winter?

or spring?

I never found out why. I can only fit in so many words in the time that it takes to hand a person their coffee. anyway, why summer? apart from it being warm and easy to be active and the subliminal vitamin b happy drug, what's summer got that spring doesn't?

I know something.

summer has become my LEAST favorite time of the year for one simple reason.... ice cream trucks.
for those of you that know me, it isn't because I don't like ice cream. it's because of that song!
do do do do d d d do do do do d d d do do dum dum da da do do do da da da. you know that one that animaniacs ripped off when they did the song "the fifty US states and their capitals, by wakko warner" you know that one, the song that you memorized in seventh grade to help you ace the capitals test in geometry!
what I did it. the song was like gold for that test!
"baton rouge, Louisiana, indianapolis indiana, and columbus is the capital of ohio
there's Montgomery alabama, south helena montana and there's denver colorado and boise idaho..."
I could go on,
not because I have a phenomenal memory, but because I've had that song stuck in my head every day for this whole summer!
who says that ice cream trucks have to play that crap song!
ok ok
it isn't a crap song. didn't I just explain it's brilliance in geography?
I'm sure that whoever first had the idea to have an ice cream truck not only made bank, but did it using, at the time, state of the art audio equipment and song that was on the top ten charts!
I pray that ice cream truck owners or whatever you're called read this because you are ruining the seasons!
you no longer need to use the same wind up music box music that your great great great great great
great
great
great
great great great great grandparents used!
when do ice cream trucks start going in the morning anyway?
they usually wake me up around 9:30. is that allowed? I know this a free country, but pah-lease!!
and another thing!
why is it that any old beater can be an ice cream TRUCK??!! like Yaun just slaps some stickers of frozen treats on the side of his dented '98 dodge neon and plays the fifty US states and their capitals, by wakko warner, without the lyrics that makes the song brilliant, and as recorded on grandma's old wind up music box, and drive around at any time in any place (no, it doesn't need to be an actual road, but side walks and fields and baseball diamonds and park paths!) and peddle frozen treats at jacked up prices to kids who are wondering if taking things from this guy is breaking the sacred commandment of youth, (never talk to strangers) and giving in to their desire for sugar that their parents are trying to break them of, which teaches the kid to never take their parents seriously, and providing a reason for people everywhere to dislike the beautiful SUMMER!!
gasp
thank you that is all.

friends.

2009-08-18T01:02:00.000-07:00

...
why do I feel scandalous for saying that I feel alone?
doesn't everyone feel alone at times?
Even Jesus screamed "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"
but I don't feel forsaken.

just lonely.

I mean, I have friends. I have a girlfriend. I have a loving church body. I have loving parents. I have loving family. I have God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit... it is interesting that put the spiritual ones last?
in all honesty I thought of my friends first as a reason for my loneliness.

Three years ago, I lived in a smallish town called roseburg. I had a mentor and friend in the faith that I met with once or twice a week. I had a friend who's house I went to every night after work, and we didn't really DO anything, we just watched movies and had occasion super deep conversations about random things...
I had a friend who I grew up with that i saw at least three times a week, and a band who was made up of close friends. I wasn't alone a whole lot.
But mostly, I always felt comfortable around them. like I could say anything, or do anything and i knew that they would love me and be friends no matter what.
Two years ago I moved to portland. God was calling me here, and I obeyed. I thought everything was supposed to feel right when you obeyed God....
I moved to portland with one of my not so close friends, and waited for the rest of friends to move up later.
they came, two, three, four months later.
but already something amiss.
it already wasn't the same.
looking back I realize that i started feeling this loneliness the day I moved. why is that?
sure one of my friends, the one who's place I always went over to, got marred. so in the natural way of things he became less available.
but we all lived, at most, 15 min away from each other! so we did all hang out like old times still, just less.
One year ago, I moved across portland on a word from God. I've made some friends here too!
but my old friends, the ones who really know me, are still over there. and on the rare occasion that we do hang out, I feel....
I don't know,
judged. pressured. like maybe my friends are wary of me, and now I have to watch what I'm saying...
I had a roommate here who I always found my self discussing random things with. I started feeling that same sense of welcome and relief around him. Then nature butted in again, and he got married and less available (sorry david ;)
then, an old friend who i had never really had the chance to settle into friendship with came a moved in with me. I was really excited because he didn't even have a girlfriend!
I thought we really connect and I felt that feeling of acceptance again. and although I was still sort of sad about my friends across town, despite being only 30 mins away still never hang out, I could begin to forget those pains of loss.
then he said he's moving out.
I'm still not entirely sure why. it's become awkward talking to him. It's not anything that he's done, or that I've done.
maybe I just feel rejected. He's moving across town to live the friends of mine who were my friends back in roseburg.

Am I being emotional. yes. I believe I am. but I'm not convinced that it's entirely misplaced.
it really hits you hard when you discover that you are more dependent on a person than they are of you.
I haven't shed any tears. but I can't sleep. I wish I did cry like a girl, so I could be over this feeling in my gut, whatever it is!
I hope that this feeling is just what I get for not finding my acceptance and all in Christ... if it's that, at least I know that I'm not just a old used friend. who, like a kid with a toy, was useful and fun for a while but then got boring and set aside.

I don't know what my purpose for writing this all down was.... just that, maybe it was a hope that through writing I might drain this loneliness from my fingertips and leave it on the keyboard.

stimulating

2009-08-17T18:50:00.000-07:00

So I just got back from this run. Not a long run. in fact I mapped it out on www.mapmyrun.com and it was a total of 2.3 miles. I haven't running a whole lot lately and I found my self digging quite deep to finish strong! I was exhausted!
I walked around my apartments to cool off....
but I couldn't.
I kept breathing hard, sweat poring down my face and back. (gross I know)
I stretched,
did some push ups and arm curls with the bungee rope that I stole from my mom...(sorry mom)
and I was starting to get tunnel vision, like I had been pushing my self for hours in blistering heat after drinking only a tsp of water!
but that didn't scare me, I probably was dehydrated, I wasn't worried I'd pass out or anything! in fact,

I felt alive.

and once I sat in the shower to cool down with cold water spraying in my face, my mind felt incredibly clear!

I don't know if it's because I haven't really pushed myself physically for a while, or because I was really dehydrated and my body was being shot some chemical trying to keep me from dying but I loved it!

I got out of the shower only moments ago and my mind is racing!
it's strange when you see the different ways that our bodies are connected to our minds and to our spirits and everything!

needless to say,
I'll be running more.

Burn Out

2009-08-12T10:22:00.000-07:00

Have you ever done something that didn't like doing for so long that every time you see someone, somewhere doing that something you start shudder in disgust? Not disgust of that person, mind. Not even disgust of that activity, but a general disgust of the feeling that so many people describe as "burn out"

So, for that last 10 months I have been living in a low-income apartment complex, with the idea in mind that me and my roommates are going to build community by sharing the love of Jesus in real, tangible ways. And in doing this, we would rescue the broken people from a broken world... or else give them a brief solace.
Part of our building community has been the idea of doing community meals, for which we invite all of our 200 hundred residents to a meal that a local church provides and we host. Then we eat, listen to the needs of people, meet them where and when we can, and share the good news of Christ! Its good! and fun! and rewarding! except....
the invitations.
going door,
to door,
to door,
etc.
...
knock knock.... no one's there.... knock knock.... still no one, so I leave a flyer saying when the meal will be in the door. as I'm doing this I look down and see the flyers from the last three meals strewn about the patio.
I hate/fear/dislike a whole lot, rejection.
THIS IS FREE FOOD!!!
we're not making anybody listen to a sermon first.
we're not calling people poor!
let's just meet our neighbors and have some of that good ol' Obama change!
I do this every week for 7 months,
then I we start doing it every other week for the summer months.
but still we have events, like Kids party's that local church's put on.
and summer lunch programs for kids,
and donation give away's,
and bible study's,
for which I go door,
to door,
to door,
feeling the same sense of rejection, the same hatred of passing out flyers.
there has to be a better way!
I don't know how the carpet baggers did it!
or those people down town that want you to save the world by giving your money to people who don't know how to change the world with it?
I better end it here, I have to make up a flyer for a thing this saturday...
save me lord.