The Dust That Clings

If dreaming makes him glad

And waking makes him sad

Then thinking he must do

To find out what is true

He doesn't know what's real

But try so hard he will

By using all his might

To find out wrong and right

And doing what is just

He wipes away the dust 

That clings with reckless hate

And threatens his good fate

But dusting takes so long

It's job is never done

So return, you old refrain

You sweetly-sounding rain

Returning from the 3-month mission trip in Southeast Asia has been hard. Somewhere in the last few weeks I began feeling riddled with thoughts of disappointment and have worried about how much good I brought as a staff member of this group. Help came from a friend, though, and I have realized that even if the feelings of disappointment are so strong, they may not be accurate at all. Maybe what feels right, isn't actually right. So this decision to believe the best in myself, to admit the exaggeration of mistakes, and to dust off the condemnation, has been hard, and I haven't been able to do it on my own. But through prayer and a sweet grace-flavored rain, I am constantly being rid of the false accusations.

"Lent" me your ears

Terrible pun title means an adequate blog as I always say. But I press on.

Ash Wednesday begins 40 days of Lent. That was yesterday, but whatever. What to give up is the question. Or is it? I wondered for a while what I could go without: soda, desserts (first thought is food of course), time in my day, TV shows that I follow... Though I did settle on withholding overeating (as in eating way more than I need, simply because I can squeeze it in and because it tastes good), I also realized that in celebration for Easter, what I personally need is not to take everything away from myself, but to continue to dive into God. My greatest need is to draw near to him, to trust him, and to love him. This involves time and energy and it takes getting used to, but oh boy. Because if the Bible is true (which I would admit under penalty of death), the rewards for following God, for hosting the Holy Spirit in us, are incomparable! There's love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control that are dying to pour forth from any person who trusts God with their whole self. Who doesn't want those?

Instead of removing items from my life, which does hold many benefits, I want to focus on adding good things. It's like instead of trying to stop saying mean things, to focus on saying nice things. Then the rude thoughts will fizzle themselves out, naturally.

Yosemite National Park
Date wrong - Summer 2009
(Not exactly related)

Now that outreach is over, I'm trying to figure out what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling. I've been in Asia for almost 3 months! I love experiencing hot showers again (most of the trip they were unavailable). I missed meat and potatoes and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Vancouver's chilly weather and snow-capped mountains have warmed my heart and added a lightness to my step when I was so confused about, well, everything.

I'm honestly not trying to be dramatic. But in this temporary tiredness and anxiety of not knowing if I have done a good job, what my core thirsts for is an embrace. A long, solid, love-filled hug from someone who knows me well. Who misses me when I neglect conversation. Who cares for me in a way I will never fully understand. Who loves me unconditionally. A hug from a God? I'll take that. And another! In preparation for Easter, I will get to know Jesus more than I ever have. And all I have to do is ask.

Confronted with Muck

When a wound is ugly and gross, red and swollen, and filled with muck… What do you do?

You can simply stop looking at it. But we all know that won’t make it go away.

You can imagine everyone gets cuts and bruises and we all live with it. But that won’t last long, because it doesn’t take the pain away. And the purpose of pain is to get your attention.

You can cover it up with clothes or weak bandages and ignore it for as long as possible, hiding it from yourself and others. But you know the blood will run down, smear on things, and your friends and family will see it, smell it, and notice your attempts at concealing it.

Or, you can study the trauma, diagnose the problem, and dig out and remove the muck, despite the pain. A tear or two may swell in your eyes, but the temporary agony will prove itself worth the work because wounds heal. Your body is designed to restore itself. It won’t naturally expel that junk, though; it will learn to live with it, and new skin will grow around it. So we must assist the natural by intervening with supernatural help, cleaning the wound and treating it as best as we can. The dirt, the gravel, the glass has to be handled gently but thoroughly.

I’ve spent loads of energy, time, and emotion staring at wounds and mourning their debilitating effects on myself and others, even after asking forgiveness. I’ve looked at them from every angle and felt every emotion – empathy, sadness, anger, disappointment, apathy. I have overshot humility and ended up in the land of immobilization, where my mistakes and harsh words replay continuously. A festering wound is unenviable.

But in a world that lives with its cuts and abrasions, there’s something special, innocent, and healthy about being sick of your infections. It’s a good sign when there’s no compromise between pride and humility. It’s a good sign that there’s no compromise when it comes to health and well-being, joy and love. If you’re so tired of doing what’s wrong, then you must be doing something right! A hate of a wound is a good thing. But how will you treat it? Staring at it only does so much.

Consult the Great Physician. We can only do so much healing on our own.

Awake! oh Light

(Here's another poem I wrote. Since there's 20 lines, it's not a sonnet. The rhyming patter is easy, though - ABAB CDCD... Finally, it's in 'Iambic Tetrameter,' which means each line has 4 feet with two syllables each, and the rhythm is something like da-DUM da-DUM... )

Awake! oh Light

Adapting eyes, his iris grows,

Two pupils shrink like ships depart;

Asleep no more but still unknown

Where he shall sail or when to start.

One day he'll wake and know his course,

He'll learn the winds, the stars, the moon;

He'll shout with joy till voice is hoarse,

Unwavering through all monsoons.

But storms are strong that rage within,

And fright is doubl'd in shadows deep;

For shadows live where light is thin,

And fear when sown means darkness reaped.

If only there was Light so bright,

To guide his ship round rocky shore;

And scare the dark and fear of night,

Away from weary trav'ler's soul.

Awake! oh Light, and dance upon

The face of him who sings along,

Who trusts in One with life e'erlong,

With voice raised high in faithful song

Sonnet 1

(This is my first attempt at a Shakespearean Sonnet. Here are some elements of the structured poem: 14 lines, a specific rhyming pattern, and a rhythm, or meter, which means the poem should carry a beat like this: da-DUM da-DUM... I suggest reading it, "When I sit here, no clues..." Enjoy!)

When I sit here, no clues, confused, ashamed

I think of all locales in which to hide

You speak to me but I avert my gaze

I long to look unblinking in your eyes

Seek solitude, but fear to be alone

The paradox, I know hurts me and you

Now smash into iotas hearts of stone

Rebuild them all and set on paths so new

But to transform for none is any quirk

Cerebral habits derail the heart-run train

Though blazing new a road, it's no small work

Established paths are hard to deviate

Destroy therefore, for good, the bandit shame

And set me free by whispering my name!

Our Hope

Our Hope

Not just there

Like a rock

Foundation

Here too

Dwell in us

Chasing us

Pursuer

Truly

You always

Care so much

Compassion

Our Love

Your heart swells

For justice

Righteous One

Our Life

Very breath

My heartbeat

Creator

Endless

We too share

Life ceaseless

Eternal

Wait for the Lord

"Is anyone feeling less than okay emotionally?" asked the leader of the meeting. Though a few people responded, and though I should have raised my hand, I remained silent. But because I believe in prayer, and honestly thought it would help me and others, I decided to pray, and to pray out loud, with the words I chose to use applying to me and the humble few in the center of the group. What I asked for was what I needed most of all: solidity and steadiness, and a reminder that the Lord's love is steadfast; he is our Rock and Refuge.

After praying I opened up to Psalm 27 because it's awesome. The last verse resonated within me:

"Wait for the Lord;
be strong, and let your heart take courage,
wait for the Lord!"

I think that "Wait for the Lord," can be about two things. First, it is the daily waiting to hear God: spending time in his presence, devoting life to him, balancing our wobbly selves on him, who is the steady, unwavering One. "Wait for the Lord" is also about waiting for Jesus to return.  Because return he will. And when he does, we will wonder why we didn't trust him absolutely before our eyes beheld his power and majesty. No guilt here, I only mean that maybe our picture of Jesus prevents us from really, truly trusting him and throwing ourselves on him when our desperation culminates. And when we see him, we will understand why we were called to wait for him, to cast our cares on him, and to call him the loving Lord of our lives. (I am struck by the lack of a weakling Jesus here - a soft-spoken man holds no place in this passage. That too may be why we don't trust him enough).

"14 The hairs of his head were white, like white wool, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, 15 his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters. 16 In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength.

 17 When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, 18 and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades."

Alive forevermore! This has become more than just a personal encouragement to have more quiet times, more devotions. For me, this passage is the reason I even try. Because there are flaming eyes that look at me and love me, and there is someone who is stronger, holding stars and capturing the very light of the sun in his face - declaring that he is not just in control of my life, but the universe - and there is someone with a voice like the roar of many waters who invites me into an intimacy incomparable.

Does this inspire you to wait for the Lord? To be strong and let your heart take courage? Will you wait for the Lord and listen to what he might say?