The Amble Towards the Mount

Common was his semblance
But his validity – absolute
Of herculean breadth – his burden
Overlooking the expanse
Bearing the thicket upon thine own brow
Joined in holy matrimony to the pine
Forever to resonate

Let's move on.

Every time we read the latest Max Lucado book or finally finish the cool devotional we feel like we have to turn over a new leaf, start a new life, leave some old sinful way behind. But in reality, all of those things will be there when we wake up in the morning, and we will continue to be pissed off about it. We will continue to want to get rid of those things from our lives, but they are not going anywhere. At least not overnight. We have to read those books, finish those devotionals and have coffee with those youth pastors and then apply what we learn.

If we truly want to live a life for Christ, we have to, in a sense, "drop" the Christian self-help books, get out of the mundane "devo's" and start talking to God rather than our favorite youth pastor. Because if we continue to go to worldly things for spiritual guidance, then we are already lost and are driving down the road of life with an upside down map.

Let's move on from being "baby" Christians and realize that we need one book that in itself is a devotional and we only require one person to rant to about our lack of spirituality...God.

Peace. Love. Jesus.

Tragically beautiful God.

"Yeah" he said, "I mean, it is so tragic how we try to plan out things & set our lives up & then God goes & tells us, 'No, I don't like that very much, let's do it this way, I think I may have a better plan.' & so then we are broken again but it is a beautiful crack in our heart that mends with such care & passion, & then we move on & thank God for it all." and he ended his catastrophic quote by taking a sip of his coffee and then packed some tobacco into his pipe. He didn't say much after that. Just looked out over the water and lost himself in the southern sunset.

Stoop.

"I guess I'll be going now." She said this as she put back on her dripping rain coat and stepped sideways out onto the stoop. Her hair still wet from the walk over to his house. "Well, I can walk you home if you need me too." He spoke to her in a way that made her feel desired. "It's not a need kind of thing, it is more a want." she was laying prostrate. "Oh, well let me get my shoes real quick." He ran up the stairs and then around the corner to the room. As he came back down they walked outside into the rain as the pain glass door shut behind them. They passed under illuminated yellow street corners and it was there that he reached for her hand. "Thank you." she said under her breathe, but it wasn't to him. And they walked the rest of the way down the rain darkened sidewalk to her house without saying one more word.

Turning back.

"Fine!" and he walked out the door and let it slam loudly behind him in a most dramatic fashion. His boots now stomping the littlest of living organisms into pure oblivion as he trudged from the front porch of the house. Just then, from behind, a voice came ringing through the thick southern evening air. The sun was a bright neon orange and pink and through the brightness of the sunset he saw her figure on the steps. "Come back to me" her eyes put a puppies to shame and made babies look like demons and then he ran. He ran towards her in a most intentional way so as to show her his care. He ran for her, he ran for him, he ran for them and for love and for hate and for frustration and longing. He ran for desire and the soft feel of the skin that covered the one that he so dearly loved. He jumped the three small front steps, grabbed her face and kissed her mouth as though the Savior was on His way. All the while her thin evening dress blowing in the cool autumn breeze and the sun shining down on the day with most approving eyes.

Down and around the corner.

...he kept telling the story.

"Yeah, so I'm sitting at that cafe in 54th and White Ave. you know? And anyways, I see this guy get out of an old truck across the street."

"Wait the one with the red chairs and the candle things?"

"Yeah, yeah that one. Anyways, he says something to the driver gives him some money and then the truck drives off. Well this dude is just standing in the middle of downtown Portland with an army sack on his back and he looks really out of place. Wearing a red cross t-shirt and some worn out jeans; looked homeless. All of the sudden he starts looking up and down the building that the cafe sits at the base of." he said with little breathe.

"Is that the building that has all those non-profits and government agencies in it?"

"Yeah. it's that one. So, he...you know the guy with the pack, well it looks like he spots something in a window about 10 stories up and then he drops his bag and just starts yelling, 'Elizabeth! Elizabeth! I'M HERE, COME DOWN TO ME! And the guy goes on and on with this over and over again."

"Wow, intense!"

"Yeah that's what I thought too. Well all of the sudden after five minutes of yelling this girl runs out of the front doors of the building and across the street and into his arms. Then, and this is the best part, dude drops to a knee and pops out this ring. And that was it."

"What do you mean that's it? I mean did she cry or anything? Did she say yes?"

"Well yeah, but the two of them just walked off down the street and around the corner."

"That is straight from a movie bro."

"Yeah no duh, kinda makes me think of Jennifer you know?"

"Yeah I know. But if she is meant to be yours, then something big will happen."

"Or something small..."

"Yeah, or something small."

Silt.

And they walked down the old dark dirt road with a star shocked sky above. Both of them wondering how this would end or begin or change or remain in place. Then Timothy spoke.

"I can't do this like you can, I can't treat her like you can."

Forest didn't say anything and they both continued on down the road towards the cool, moist water front at the edge of the lake. When they reached their destination they were greeted by songs of the loon and an orchestra of frogs and toads. All this, in a way, spoke for them to one another. The stars squinted at them as Gods thumbnail held the night sky in place for a time. So that, if just for a short time, these two might be able to speak and love in quiet and peace.

"I do love her." Forest whispered under his grayish breath.

"Then love her."

Timothy began to feel a deep sinking in his stomach and a lump fixed in the base of his throat. He was giving, so he thought, a piece of himself away to someone. Now, this was someone whom he loved dearly, but he was also giving away someone he loved dearly. He shifted in the cool mud and silt beneath his feet and sighed a sigh of sadness and relief. But in his heart he knew that things could not be the same.

Just then Forest wrapped his arms in an embrace around the shoulders of Timothy. Tears were streaming down his face and his breath was hot and could be easily seen in the cool, sweet night air.

"I'll never let her go." said Forest.

And they walked back to the ranch house talking about the tractor they had to work on that next morning and how they were looking forward to a big breakfast. They walked as friends, as brothers and as two men who knew each others hearts as we desire to know Gods. And the songs of the loon accompanied by the crickets and frogs lulled nature to sleep for one more night with a sense of peace and righteousness.

An Aside: For Wendell Berry and My Friends

When you praise the Father remember all the greatness of nature and how it has been praising God from creation.

The farmer brings forth praise from the harvest and his wife from her cooking and feeding.

There are few who can see the glory of the Father from a cubicle or from sixty-four stories in the sky. But even there Gods endless glory is shown in a very complete and perfect way.

Let us no longer toil in the trouble of quick coffee or the quick fix. Fall face first and cry more often. This will help you to bear open your bleeding heart more frequently and easily to the Father.

Desire the fresh fruit of the land, the produce of the field and the meat of the fallen cow. For these are the great provisions of our heavenly papa whom cares for us.

Read good books, eat rich foods - sometimes. Take naps when you have something to do. Kiss her more than you think you ought to. Take fewer showers. Watch the wind blow more often.

When you praise the Father, remember all the simplicities that bless our lives.

Fall in love without hesitation and when you do fall, do it with intensity. Wear your wedding ring as if you were shouting that persons name all day. Smoke a cigarette if you're stressed. Drink good wine. Have a favorite quote. Memorize scripture.

This is how we should live. A life with wind blown hair and sunburnt shoulders.

Take in the gracefulness of a beautiful women. Smell the hair of the one you lie down with and know that she is yours.

Drive with windows down and with the music too loud. Stare at the moon, trace your shadow. Remember peoples names. Live in random cities. Drink black coffee even though you know you won't like it.

Think of him more frequently and when you see him, jump into his arms. Whisper sweet things more often and remember her favorite things.

Follow the path you do not know. Talk to people and love people you don't care for. Skin your knees. Walk bare foot. Drink beer. Be very intentional. Be so intentional that if that person fails you or leaves you that it hurts, that way you know you were giving it your all.

Trust God deeply. Know the Spirit. Hold hands with Jesus. Speak frequently about Christ and his life. Pray often, in many ways and without need. Remember the cross. Get messy with the gospel. Wash your brothers feet and let him wash yours if he so pleases.

All of these things might not change your life or anything like that, but they may help you live it out.

The Young Optimistic Religious Kid.

I don't like being on my computer a lot. I don't like watching TV a lot. I don't like being on the phone a lot.

I don't like being inside for too long.

I don't like boring christian books. I hate white tennis shoes. I don't like generic music. I don't like the news paper. I don't like magazines.

I don't like shirts that are too big.

I don't always want to talk about feelings.

I don't always have to see the newest movie.

I don't shave sometimes, not because I like my beard, but because I feel it makes me more humble. I grow my hair out so that I can look more like Jesus.

I fall off the face of the earth because I was not made to live here.

I read about Atticus because he is a very honorable man and I love him.

I want to sleep outside more often. I eat rice more then I should because I feel bad for people in Africa.

I hate fast food because it is killing me slowly. I need to cook more often.

But who cares about that stuff really?

Read the Bible. Watch people grow. Love your neighbor. Eat good food.

Peace.

Asphalt Flowers.

"What's taking so long?"

"Well sir, it takes time for something like this."

She had told him to be early or she was going to go with Terry.

"OK, well...fine."

Terry was the all-state track star from their high school.

"$45.00...seriously?"

"I think it is worth it sir."

"Fine"

He walks out the door through the drizzle & gets into his car.

"I can't believe this is happening."

He was, with luck, going to be ten minutes late. She was most likely taking pictures with him right now.

"Come on, come on. Turn GREEN!"

Then the tires spun and the slick road beneath him disappeared. Metal found metal and bone found glass and that was that.

The flowers fell to the asphalt and shimmered in the red and blue glimmer of lights.

"Well, let's go Terry."

She thought to herself, "Why didn't he come? Why was he late? Why doesn't he care?"

So, she went to the table and streamer filed basketball gym with Terry.

And the flowers just stayed in the street.

A sparrow in the Lake, A perch in the sky.

I feel so out of place.

My shoes don't fit right.

Why do I feel like i am missing out?

And has food always tasted just a little under my expectations, or is that a new thing? My coffee never tastes just right.

The sunset is never as perfect as i think it should be. Too much pink, too much yellow.

Why do I feel like I can never get a full breathe?

Why do I feel as if the grass is greener on the other side?

My words are never right.

I get sad about the small things. The shower is either too hot or too cold. Luke warm hatred.

Why do I have a hard time finding absolute joy in things?

How come people still let me down?

Why does home not feel like home anymore?

Why do I look at the world and think of the word 'incomplete'?

Love from her or him just doesn't feel good enough sometimes.

How come my music does not fill the wholeness of my being?

Why does my heart desire more?

Because as I lay here I realize that I am a sparrow in a lake; that I am a perch in the air. I am like the snake in the snow or the bear in the desert. I am an ice cube sitting on a scorching New York sidewalk. I am not meant for this place. But that means that for now this sparrow will have to learn to swim for a time. We may not be meant for this place, but He will not let us die. One day the sparrow, the perch, the snake and the bear will find their way home. And that, my friends, will be a beautiful day.

To my sisters from the Love of my Father.

Sister,

Ask for greatness, for you deserve it.

Never settle, you don't have to. He has better for you.

Want the best, Jesus says you should have it.

Know that you are beautiful not because of your skin or face. But know this truth because God sees Jesus inside of you.

The breathe of the Creator of the universe blows through your body; this is beautiful.

There are sunsets and flowers and rain falls that shall never compare.
There are waves and moons and trees that will never know.
There are rocks and creeping things and winds that want to know.
There are forlorn branches that may never hear.
There are mountain top crags and rain carved gullies that may never understand.

All these things may never know or hear or understand how precious a woman is or how much perfection is found in the simple curve of a cheek. Or in the tragically wonderful fragrance of a woman's beautiful skin and hair. For these things were made in the image of the everlasting, ever-loving, never failing, perfection defined, sun shown, moon praised, grey haired, black skinned, white footed, blue eyed God of the universe. He is all of you. You are all of Him.

God's compassion is shown to the world through the womb of a mother, for through the womb of our Lord was birthed all of creation.

Know that God loves you and that He is very, very, very fond of you. And we as men are and should be very fond of you as well.

You are beautiful. You are desired. You are taken.

Know the truth of the Lord. It is that you are Beloved.

Peace unto Women.

To: The Barbarians

Brothers,

Keep faithful to the word.

Love Christ.

Know one another deeply.

Give yourself away.

We are placed here in this time to fight the good fight and to hold up the sword of our Father. We are called to reach down into the stream and choose the smoothest of stones and to build the swiftest of slings.

We are to be men who take delight in sparing our enemies and in turn showing them the strength of our hearts. We have to show them in turn the love that we received when we were lying face down in the ditch. It is not pity, it is Jesus.

Let us place on the armor of the heavens daily so that the battle lines might advance in favor of the kingdom. Let us do this with absolute urgency. In doing so we are growing ever so close to the return of the King.

Stand strong for those who cannot.
Hold up the fallen.
Speak with brilliance for the mute.
Listen with intensity for the deaf.
Love those whose lives have never felt it.
Raise the crippled.
Be a brother to he whom has no family.
Be a father to the lost child.
Be a rock for she whom the Lord has chosen for you.
Do your work with great vigor.
Reap what you have sown in due time.
Eat, drink and be glad in the sight of the lord.
Enjoy with great compassion the provision of the Lord.

Do these things with great intensity, for our time is short. Men advance daily with great desire unto the gates of the Kingdom. So let us not waiver here with our time and efforts.

We are warriors.
We are poets.
We are leaders.
We are workers.
We are slaves.

Live in this and then die in this and then live in this again.

This is a call to arms. Brothers in arms. Let us stand our posts and sound the trumpet of salvation together. Amen, amen, amen.

Things I Have.

I have calloused hands but...
I have a weak heart but...
I have bleeding feet but...
I have tear filled eyes but...
I have sun scorched skin but...
I have eyes that fail me but...
I have ears that trick me but...
I have friends that leave me but...
I have broken hands but...
I have frail words that fall short but...

...I am still going to tell people about Him.

To whom it may concern:

To whom it may concern:

We left the house at 3:00pm this afternoon when the bright light first shone. When we saw the fire falling from the open hole in the sky we knew we had to leave.

We are headed east to the point where the sky has opened up. Do not fear for us or our safety.

Please note: We will not be returning. We will not see you again.

We hope and pray that you find safety in what you bind yourselves to. We will travel until we can go no further.

If you are reading this, then you are welcome to have our home and everything within it.

Never to return,

Brothers and Sisters.

A digression in a medium sized room.

From whom have I come?
For whom do I come?

Where thence do I go?
How doest one go?

How doest one come to be?
Where doest one depart to?

Is mine own mind destined for the dark?
No! Darkness be gone.
No six feet of earth can contain this soul.

For let me say unto you sweet siblings of mine.
We come from a rich stock.

We come unto this place to entangle the lost in the branches of fullness.

Let us travel those dusty paths in which we once feared.
We will progress on feet of flesh into fields of gold.
These fields are greatly longed after by those whose lives are filled by longing.
For a life of longing is no life at all.
Unless of course that longing is to see paradise.

But I digress.

So let us not ask those questions which hinder or restrain our hearts. But rather, let us ask questions to which our hearts can answer fully and with joy. No other question is suitable for a man who lives his life for higher purposes.

Thus, ask yourself: What question is my heart asking me?

Let us act on them seeing as how they are sent to us via a great light. A light which shows us fields of fullness and questions with boundless answers.

Giving is the new getting.

Give.

Give.

Give.

Give it away when you get it. Because when you get it is when you can know to give it.

Do you get it?

'Cause if you do then you can give it.

And, if you didn't know, when you give you get.

And getting is good.

So when the getting is good then the giving is good.

Freedom comes from giving...and from getting.

I mean, what have we had to get?

We were all given everything. Very freely. But with a price.

So, really, we got! A lot.

So we should give a lot.

Giving is the new getting.

While at home in my Mothers house.

Life is not a movie.
There is no sound track playing.
There is no one to yell ‘cut’.
And there is no script to read from.

The perfect conversation may only be one fleeting, self-directed thought.
There may not be anyone around.

There is no formula to this distanced walk through the graves of the living.

You are not supposed to be comfortable. Did you know?
That has not been spoken. Otherwise in fact.
There is supposed to be that thorn in your side.

Don’t take it away; don’t take it from me.
I need it.
Then I would forget how much I can’t do.
Then death would be my only companion.

A letter from an angel.

Always remember.
Never let go of them.
Always linger on them.

When he left you.
When she broke your heart.
When they split like a rotten timber.

Keep them in your mind.
Fill it up.
Let there be room for no one else.

The night that was never ending.
The day that is blurred in crimson.
The times when all you could to was run.

Linger on them.
Linger in them.
Keep yourself from forgetting.

When he asks for you to complete the weary tasks.
When he brings to your doorstep challenge.
When you are called to face greatness.

Remember how I was there for you.
Remember when we ran together.
Remember when I never left your side.

Hold on.
Fear change.
Live in regret you stolen child of Zion.
I gnash my teeth at you who stole him.

The Boy and the Bleeding Tree

Always there
rooted deeply.
Beautiful forever, ageless.

Lying on the edge of the line.
Resting in the deepness of the grove.

Lying on the edge of the bed.
Resting in the deepness of his mother.

Speaking in the tone of the breeze.
Reaching out to the sun.

Speaking in tones of the Father.
Reaching out to the blind and dead.

Moving with a gentle wind.
Saving the weary traveler.

Moving with a gentle spirit.
Saving the weary soul.

Dying to an ax held by the hand.
Shaped by the hands of the carpenter.

Dying to a world held by the hands.
Shaped by the hands of the carpenter.

And thus, the boy met the bleeding tree.

Premature thoughts on future events and the word ‘Dedication’

Our generation has become so complacent with carrying over our dating habits into our thoughts and rituals of marriage. We see that while we are dating that if anything goes wrong that we can just bail out.

I heard someone say that our generation continues to take marriage too lightly.

It is a weighty expedition this thing we call marriage. It takes two travelers who both hold one half of the map of life. We think that if that person holds their piece of the map the wrong way just one time that they are no longer worth traveling with. We find it suitable to sneak away in the night leaving them to travel the rest of the road on their own. That is just not correct.

Divorce in not an option. No matter what. Marriage between two people is supposed to resemble Christ’s marriage to the church. And if a marriage between men and women is supposed to resemble that then divorce can never enter the mind.

Even in the dark shadows of mans sinful ways we must find God. When these things enter into marriage the one that has sinned must search endlessly for the repentant heart just as David did. This repentant heart will save your soul weary traveler. And you who are begging for strength to forgive must pray that the one you love find themselves on knees at His feet.

We just need to remember our grandparents and their love; the love that flourished from their work and dedication.

Oh how lightly we take that word Dedication. What does it truly mean? Or is it just trust? No, it has to be more. It has to resemble a full on, face first dive into a love that, at times, may not be perfect. I think it may be something like what our hearts looked like when we first believed. Not knowing what was going to happen when we stepped out in faith, but we did it anyway. And that step has made all the difference.