'Til Kingdom Come

Accompanying music if you so choose. Sanvean - Lisa Gerrard “As surely as the Lord lives, the man who did this must die!”  David furiously shouts these words with the conclusion of the prophet Nathan’s story. A strange tale about a poor man’s only beloved lamb and a rich man who takes and slaughters it for his own dinner guests.  This story is fairly familiar and the connections between the parable and David’s unfathomable sins of adultery, deceit, and murder are quickly made. It’s just a creative way for Nathan to bring up an uncomfortable subject to the all-powerful ruler of Israel, is it not? I’ve heard this story countless times throughout my life as a part of the arc of David’s story. However, this part of the tale has been on a repeating loop in my mind recently. Why did this story stir up such a storm in David? He is the king. He is wealthy beyond measure. When he says “He must pay for that lamb four times over, because he did such a thing and had no...

    The soft sigh escaped her mouth as one, then two swollen feet gently slipped into the stream’s edge. She closed her eyes. Quieting herself in the cool of the water and the sun trapped heat of the rock upon which she rested. Each a comfort to her aching body. She took a few deep breaths and soaked in each.     Joyfully breaking the stillness her eyelids fluttered open to the sound of her children spilling into the stream. She made the tired chuckle all too familiar to a mother. “There goes peace, but there my delight.” Her eyes softened in a smile as she watched her young sons and daughter stumble and dance into the water. Their laughter like the sparkling drops filling the air.     A soft, warm smile painted her face as she placed her hand on her womb. She felt the jubilee of Elohim’s blessing inside her, anxious to join their siblings. Her heart stirred. She could hardly remember life before her children. A life without the sleepless anxieties or ...

A very short story, inspired by a writing prompt. Drawn I was convinced she was the antithesis of my muse. In all my artistic forms. Written or sketched. There I would be, sharp and focused. Creating. Then she would come and undo me. Making me second guess myself. Were we not supposed to be one? Why did she seem to stand against everything I represented? Didn’t she see how hard I worked? How meticulously I made each line; wrote each word? I gave myself to my work. Giving all that I was.  Only later did I see how much of herself she gave as well. I wore her down. The harder I pressed on the more she had to absorb. Did I not see how gentle, how softly she came to correct and inspire. So often it seemed we were going in opposite directions. Time carved us down. As all things. The river to canyon. The bone to dust. Then, in an ordinary moment. I paused. Examined. I had been so distracted, caught up in myself, I did not realize how close we had become. It had happen...

I LOVE Coldplay. Their music over the years continues time and time again to resonate deeply with me. I have a lot of respect for the way they conduct themselves as a band and once I saw them in concert I was done for. Sadly what this lead to was me questioning if I was making the band an idol in my life. Over and over again God declares that he alone is to be worshiped above all else. The second commandment is that we shall have no other gods before Him. I worried that I was too obsessed with Coldplay. I feared listening to them too much. I don't think that this was irrational. I am committed to loving God above all else and know that my greatest joys, peace and needs can only be satisfied in Him. I go through this same line of thinking when I start desiring cars, nice houses, reckless freedom, money, etc. But then, as my sad little heart is reminded often, God surprised and blessed me in ways I would never have dreamed. In May of 2012 I had the opportunity to go to th...

I work at a church and a few weeks ago we were the victims of a tagger. In three places these lovely initials were sprayed on two of our parking lot lights and this retaining wall where all the water drains from our lot. The two on the cement bases for the lights came off fairly easily with a special cleaner and a lot of scrubbing. Did I mention it was over 100* the day I had to clean these. When I got to this final graffiti I sprayed and sprayed, and scrubbed and scrubbed with a steel brush. I have tried on two more occasions to get this stain off the stone bricks and if you come by the church it will still look like this. I am currently trying to team up with someone to get a sand blaster and hopefully get this removed. While I was drenched in sweat and striving to erase this mark I was reminded of a deep truth. This stain is as stubborn as my sin. My life, my heart, my soul are covered in the marring of disobedience and foolishness. Despite my greatest efforts, the sweat on ...

Snip, snip, snip. Every sign of beauty and color torn away. The growth of the past year reduced to a jagged stub. What once was a thriving life seems nothing more than the skeletal frame of abandoned promise. I have trouble discerning the pruning shears from the ax at the root of the tree. Is this the discipline of my Father? The careful, wise trimming of a loving Gardener. Often I fear that it is the punishment of a Holy Judge. One sin too many. The final test of a fruitless tree. The righteous wrath to bear down on my stubborn neck. But I stop. The slippery lies. The panicked doubts. Who am I to say that the power of Christ blood has reached it's high tide and I find myself dry on a sandy shore. His redeeming love shall come this far but no further. The audacity. His atonement is an raging tsunami that over takes the swiftest runner and the strongest grip clutching earthen security. It overcomes, it overwhelms. It drowns me in a bed of...

My church is reading through the Bible this year. At the end of a section of books we have a reflection service. Last night we had a service for the historical books of the old testament. The focus was on the life of David. Several of us in the church were asked to select people in David's life and write an account from their perspective. I chose Jonathan, the son of Saul. This is the piece that I prepared. Mephibosheth, my young lion, my son. I pray this letter finds you well in these troubled times. We are on the eve of battle and my mind is swarming with thoughts and questions that rob me of sleep. I wander our encampment here at Gilboa. My eyes search the heavens for a sense of hope or peace, yet only cold distant stars stare silently back. Mirroring them are the flickering fires of the Philistines across the valley. Burning into the night, into my heart. I wish the Lord would out stretch his hand and brush them from the hillside like dust. In my youth it was the thrill of...

Tis the Christmas season and my church has had its share of events to celebrate the Advent of Christ. The two big events I look forward to each year are the Christmas concerts. One with adults and one with children. I loved both concerts but for very different reasons. Each allowed to me reflect on the Lord but from opposite perspectives. With the adult Christmas concert there is a sense of Awe. The stage is packed with singers and musicians. This year a stage extension had to be built just to compensate for all the performers. The concert is big in scale and well rehearsed as the singers and musicians perform with meticulous precision. As I sit in my seat I meditate on God's immensity, creativity, perfection, and beauty. My senses can hardly take hold of all the glory of the performance. I just sit there and let it wash over me. There is a purity in the high quality of it all. A week later I attended the children's concert. Dozens of children, ages 5 to 12, crowd the s...

Over the summer I realized that as a single man in my mid 20's I am presented with a conflicting set of agendas for my life. One popular opinion is that I need to take full advantage of my singleness. Travel, pursue goals, go back to school. Figure out what I want out of life.  These are not bad things. They are great things. These may even help me to reach my life goals of marrying a godly woman and having a family of my own. However, I'm also told that getting married and having a family will reveal to me and others the depths of my selfishness and pride. I could wait until that possible day to discover those elements in my heart but I was a Boy Scout and our motto was "Be Prepared". The hope then is that I rid myself of as much of my egocentrism as I can and to live for others now. Where I see the problem is that the life I'm being told to live now is not helping cultivate the life that I seek to flourish in later. I set before me the same challe...

In my last post I discussed the importance of Plasticity in clay. The quality that allows the clay to be easily molded to the form of the Potter. I too must be flexible to the ways in which the Lord is sanctifying me to His greater and mysterious purposes. Sometimes the shapes that the Potter is forming can stretch the clay thin. In these moments the quality that is critical is Strength . The clay must be able to hold it's own and not collapse in on itself or tear. An overly fragile piece of pottery is not very useful. How often do I find that my integrity is being tested? That the stretching and bending of my soul and character are being all at once strained by outside forces and yet conditioned by my Father. One of my favorite verses in scripture, one that I cling to often, is Joshua 1:9. Following the death of Moses, Joshua is faced with the incredibly difficult task of leading the people of Israel into the promise land which in addition to flowing with milk and honey is ...

Previously I discussed the starting process for throwing clay on a potter's wheel. Just as the clay must be centered on the wheel so must we too be centered in God's will to be formed into the right shape. So what makes for a good throwing clay?                                            Possibly the most crucial aspect of good clay is it's Plasticity. This is what determines how easy it is to mold and shape the clay. If you are working with a clay that is low in plasticity you will have to press hard and struggle against the clay to work it into the form that you are hoping for. What does it look like for me to bear the characteristic of plasticity? I ask myself  - Do I resist correction? Am I teachable? When things aren't going my way to I fight the change or try t...

This post is going to be the first in a series I want to do on pottery and the characteristics of clay and how hopefully help us meditate on this verse from Isaiah. But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand. - Isaiah 64:8 A few years ago my friend Julie was taking a pottery class at Biola. I stopped by to visit her in the art studio. She was working on a project for class wherein she had to use a potter's wheel and throwing clay. I watched as she tossed a misshapen ball of clay on the wheel, wet her hands and set the wheel spinning. Her hands carefully and methodically guided the clay up and down forming a cylindrical shape. I watched her work for several minutes, my mind mesmerized by her slow and subtle workings on the clay. It wasn't long before this previously shapeless lump was beginning to take the form of a cup. Julie looked up at me, "You want to give it a try?" I chuckled but ha...

And why have you become disturbed within me? These lines come from the writer of the 42nd Psalm. This evening, as on many previous, those words resonated deep within me. I have been feeling anxious. Nothing all too new to me as I am nearly 12 years familiar with the dropping in my stomach, the icy hot tingling on the back of my neck and the feeling of dread and despair that quickens my pulse. What has become frustrating is that I cannot think of any particulars of which I am finding myself fearful. It could be many things, walking about my current home seeing boxes of my roommates things as he prepares to move out tomorrow is certainly a reminder of life's inevitable changes. Which on the forefront I rarely take delight. Could it be the stresses of looking for full time employment? The worries of never finding a loving spouse? The fear of failing the people to whom I have made commitments? Perhaps. These thoughts plague the minds of many at my age but I cannot help but t...

I hate grocery shopping. Neigh, loathe it on many an occasion. I do. The store is cold, the lighting is awful, there is an overwhelming amount of food to choose from the majority of which is bad for me, and it's not fulfilling my purpose in even going. I go because I must eat but in order to do that I have to buy the food before I can eat it. I often think that if I could just take a pill and never have to eat another day in my life I would do it. Part of the problem is that I wait until I have nothing but a bag of white rice in my pantry to go to the store and usually I haven't eaten since lunch and it's 9 o'clock at night and I'm getting cranky. Poor planning on my part. But then again I hate it, so of course I put it off. Those reasons are mostly reasons that anyone might not enjoy going. They are very tangible and in some cases, things that I can correct or plan for accordingly. As I found myself walking into the store tonight I did something I had not done befo...

I'm a lifelong fan of almost all things Disney. As a child Disneyland was my vision of Heaven. I would get excited and prepare for months when I knew our family was planning a visit. I would watch the movies and sing the songs eagerly awaiting the days to be spent at the "Happiest Place on Earth". Our family recently took a trip to the park in March. We hadn't gone as a whole family in years which made this trip all the more special. We were having lunch one day in New Orleans Square where there was a jazz trio performing an array of tunes. For their last song the played "Someday my Prince will come" from the Disney animated feature "Snow White". Several small children instantly recognized the song and made their way to the foot of the stage dancing in the carefree way that children do. I watched as a father danced with his very young daughter. It looked like the perfect picture for a Disney brochure. I could imagine years from now when that little...

It's almost November 29th. It's my 26th Birthday. I've come a long way since that hospital in San Antonio, Texas. I think it's wise to reflect on how much can happen in a year. Here are some highlights. In my 25th year I got my motorcycle, was Best Man in my Best Friends wedding, learned a lot about Manliness, grew a beard~ twice, took a Ballroom dancing class, moved to a great house in La Mirada, reconciled a friendship, started dating again, laughed till I cried, just cried, learned more of the depths of my sin and heights of His redeeming love, saw John Williams at the Hollywood Bowl, faced some of my darkest days, went to a Polo match, watched all 6 season of Lost, bought a Queen size bed, continued to look for a queen to share it with, got my first TV~ 46" of beautiful HD, stayed up too late with friends, got up too early for work, saw God's provision for every day, rented my first car ~ a chevy aveo, broke more than a few rules, ate a fish eye, biked...

Today I got a refill on some prescription meds I've been taking for the past month to help me in my battle with anxiety and panic attacks. The pills have been a daily reminder of something I hate to face. 1. There is something wrong with me. 2. I'm too weak to battle it on my own. I've spent the last year absorbing as much content on Manliness as I could get my hands on. I've set goals and tried to grow and mature into more of a responsible, strong, committed, man. I even got up the nerve to ask a girl out on a date and buy a motorcycle. I thought things might finally be coming together. Then CRASH! My world seems to collapse like a sandcastle during high tide. I couldn't sleep, eat, relax, work. Everything felt overwhelming. There was been a daily assault on my sense of hope for the future which I want to discuss later. In this battle something has become a clear as the Caribbean sea. My Daily need of God's grace and mercies. Because: 1. There is something wron...

Maybe it would be extreme to say that Coldplay is my soul incarnate but upon hearing their newest song "Spanish Rain/Don Quixote" which they premiered last week on the start of their Latin America tour, I am even more persuaded to say that it's true. I get a little nervous when I'm about to listen to a new Coldplay song for the first time. "Might this be the first song I don't like?" One of the first songs I ever wrote when I first started playing guitar was titled "Don Quixote". I definitely like their version better. This new song is both absolutely Coldplay and yet fresh and not just something we've heard before. Chris Martin proves that his lyric writing is getting even better. While listening to this song for the first time I had goosebumps and my heart and soul were dancing. I feel ridiculous even saying it but I can't help it. If this is any sign of what is to come from their new album, which is tentatively aimed to be released b...

We all have those days when it seems like nothing is going right. We have a bad hair day , we hit every red light when we're already running late for work, someone at the party is being charmed by someone we wish was us, we get our elbow stuck in a chair in the middle of a crowded room, our boss wants to "walk into" something we did that wasn't up to snuff, we wake up and find we are a literary character in a Russian novel or perhaps having under gone a metamorphosis into a giant vermin. We've all been there. I find that on these days on of the best things I can do is to write a list of things that I love in life. Later I go back and read this list and I'm always amazed at how many things I forget about. I can't help but read my list and find a smile is sneaking it's way across my face. Don't leave anything off the list. If it makes you happy put it down. From the eternally mind blowing awesomeness of our unmerited salvation in Christ Jesus to th...

Several months ago we had a work day at my church. A couple of Trustees and I spent a good 10 hours doing hard manual labor installing new door jams and a new gas line. It was the kind of work where you are covered in dirt, sweat, blood and muscles you didn't know you had hurt. It was wonderful. Everyone once in awhile I love doing tough manly work that reminds you you're alive. We finished our work that evening and I began the drive home. When I arrived at my "cozy" studio apartment my roommate wasn't home. My stomach gave a deep roar that echoed off the walls. I collapsed on the couch and tried to fathom what I would make for dinner. I began to think of how wonderful it would be to be married. How joyfully I would hand over my paycheck, take out the trash, change the oil in the car, squish creepy crawlies, fix and repair things and so much more, to come home to a kind woman who would greet my dirty face with a kiss and prepared even the simplest of meals. (As a...