365 People...

Beautiful Cutter

Wed, 26 Dec 2012 15:47:00 -0500

Whence she’s cried her tears against the throbs

And rose peddle tears shower in unkind sobs

I’ll hold her fragile heart in my arms

Press them around my waist and kiss her scars

Take her blade and hold it over me

Strap us down together and watch us bleed

Against her skin there’s a pain unforgiving

That darkens the beauty she sees in this God-forsaken-prison

But I still love her

My love, my precious cutter.

There’s a tender way about her body

A lure in her eyes that left me feeling weak

But she can’t silence the scarlet-siren-scream

Or see beyond what she can see and see through me

She breaks and shatters under the weight of it all

Fragmented from the gravity of her fall

Against her skin there’s a pain unforgiving

That darkens the beauty she sees in this God-forsaken-prison

But I still love her

My love, my angelic-cutter.

And where there is no more beauty to hold or self to worth

And with each piece-jarred-aside, impossible to be made whole

I pray she’ll let me love her, bloody and broken

Until the years have past and we’ve grown old

Against her skin there’s a pain unforgiving

That darkens the beauty she sees in this God-forsaken-prison

But I still love her

My love, my beautiful Lola.

The Street Sweeper

Mon, 08 Oct 2012 15:02:48 -0400

Sweep sweeper sweep.The streets are full of dreamer defeats. And the gutters full of tears. Touch their souls and calm their fears.

I gathered her love from beneath the rubble.

I pieced it together from the scraps and sketches of my wanderings.

I called her forward and held her hand.

I made her pose under the canopy.

I positioned her to lay still.

I swept insignificant objects off her body.

Then named them.

Each symbolic of our newly found love.

I dressed her fancy from my fantasy.

She became mine.

She held. She spoke. Then she moved.

I couldn’t understand why. Bewildered and broken, she tossed objects to the side. Her elegant smile persisted she meant no harm.

But I demanded more.

Gracefully, she looked away.

And reached for objects from her suitcase.

Around her neck and across her chest she placed a locket. On her finger she placed a ring. In her hair a shiny butterfly pin.

Then an object here and an object there.

None of which were mine.

She became unrecognizable.

She moved nowhere and everywhere simultaneously. In her metamorphosis she still held her beauty.

She saw no fault.

I saw none either.

My eyes held captive over the discovery of the one I love.

Now my heart throbbing over her release…

“I love you”

And only in her words did I realize it was I who had given her each object. My hand inside the suitcase. My hand creating the metamorphosis. Then in haste…

She left.

And tossed a coin for payment.

Sweep sweeper sweep. The streets are full of lovers-heap. And the gutters full of all our tears Touch their souls, but their beauty is not yours to keep

For I am but The Street Sweeper…

I gather. I see. I sweep…and sweep.

And buried in the gutter The Street Sweeper drowns in the tears from this loveless drink.

Winters Noose

Mon, 08 Oct 2012 01:12:47 -0400

I feel death growing inside me.

An overextended heart given repeatedly toward the task.

Of naive and indifferent recipients

Of humble and gentle meekness

Of lovers whose seal mark what is impenetrable

Whose return to me is a love bound by a ceiling

With permits granted upon the confession from the un-confessable

A silent death strokes my cheek at night

And it’s overtaking me.

Subtle and soft whispers in my ear.

Graceful steps and dances perform under the moonlight.

And it becomes my only company.

Where loneliness becomes more desirable then its companionship.

And nightmares brighter than dreams.

So to I have seen it overtaking me.

Let the flowers bloom in the sunlight and bow to the sunset.

Let them fall in the fields of springtime.

Let them pick these petals clean…

And die before winters noose.

And let it stand as a stem alone.

Picked over, wading in the winds, lost in the fields.

Undesirable for keeping and hidden as dying.

But standing.

And let what’s left be sucked out by my honeybee.

Let her drink in and provide for her nest.

Let her live and be strong.

For I am but for her amidst a field of flowers.

And she is but for me amidst a nest of bees.

And we are but users.

I see life growing without me.

And it’s overtaking me.

Touch the Ground

Mon, 24 Sep 2012 19:51:10 -0400

Crescent falling and smothered songs.

Sings the bird cleft on the birch

Nesting in gentle straws of a traveling home

Fly birdie fly.

Stretch and soar across vacant skies

Press into the cold, dark night.

Soul held high and 53 times as much.

Are the days lost in season winds.

Of the life grown under sweet caress.

Shells and feathers are what is left.

Hold on no longer the loss of loss.

For the descent of those who’ve touched the ground.

Beautiful fallings and freedom songs.

Fall birdie fall.

Leave your manufactured home behind.

Nothing above.

Everything below.

Everything above.

Nothing below.

Are the new songs…

Syncopated truths.

Melodious goodbyes.

Rests of envy.

Movements of love.

Crescendo…

Decrescendo and fall.

Fly birdie fly.

Sing forgotten songs.

Forget-me-nots

Gather straw.

Climb.

Sit.

Rest.

Sing.

And touch new ground.

Seed

Mon, 27 Aug 2012 20:55:00 -0400

³“Listen! A farmer went out to sow his seed. ⁴As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. ⁵Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. ⁶But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root. ⁷Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants, so that they did not bear grain. ⁸Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up, grew and produced a crop, some multiplying thirty, some sixty, some a hundred times.”

⁹Then Jesus said, “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.”

As a teacher, over the years, I have been reminded of the limitations my words have. The preparation and prayer. The proper placement and delicacy. The practicality and relevant utterances of speech and example are simply words. Words of hope and love. Brutal honesty and transformation…but really just words. I have no control over what they will do and manifest. For while, in my life, I am both Farmer and Soil…I can only assume the role of the farmer as teacher. The soil…..is simply not up to me.

And I too have scattered seed.

And I have seen some fall many places.

I have attempted to rescue plants from predators and nature alike.

I have sought to reroot those fixed on shallow soil.

Others that never took root to begin with in the first place.

And maybe hardest of all I have seen some wither away.

But I believe this year, with this group…there is fine soil. Much cultivation and time has been put into this season. And I believe with all the scattered seed that have brought forth, the time is ripe for great return…

For there is a harvest coming.

I have said many words…

None more important than now.

#1 Hannah Honeycutt: Proverbs Class

Wed, 23 May 2012 16:59:26 -0400

We are all given a choice. These numerous choices flood our minds everyday. Some are simple while others are crucial. But every choice impacts our life to some effect. We find ourselves changing our minds & shifting sides often, especially when placed in difficult situations in which we hunger and thirst to forget. But when we make the choice to listen, our minds shift to a state of freedom and where we find passion for the one calling for us known as “Sophia” or wisdom. In her we see what our human nature desires most…rest. And rest not found in sleeping through life but thriving; truly living in the ‘moments of time rather then the things of space’. Living, breathing in the presence of YHWH. When we step into this life we remember (le-kadesh) and find ourselves caught up in a beautiful marriage with something greater than this world (Kessy-Luth/Folly). This “something” portrayed as “someone” is more precious than rubies. It is rare and searched for often, yet has been here since the beginning of time. Wisdom, rest, “Sophia”, God is always present and constant like a strong marriage.

-In response to the following: Based on all of our lectures on Proverbs and the Pentateuch, what is your final conclusion for the year?

Student Responses from the Academic Year

Wed, 23 May 2012 16:48:20 -0400

If you could create a synopsis of the entire school year, what would that be?

I will be posting student responses from the school year that asked them this one question based on our studies of PROVERBS. Hope you enjoy their wonderful responses based off of lectures and their own brilliance.

You Win Some You Lose A LOT

Wed, 23 May 2012 15:43:00 -0400

This tale is almost over and the forced workers will be at rest soon as the rider fades away into the sunset walking gingerly in front of his shadow, clutching tightly to a paintbrush and paint can, knowing not where to go or where he has been. Simply holding onto the hope of becoming someone to somebody someday.Maybe success isn’t measured by what we do but by what we do in the moments we are given?

And maybe success is measured by the ability to assess & discern between achievable and unrealistic expectations? Making success the ability to change or admit loss or defeat. Or is that simply a compromise of a standard that has been set as “success” in order to create a sense of victory through the justification of a “new goal” or redefinition of what “success is”? Is that simply failure with a bow on top?

And with people, when they become the measure of your success, it becomes rather difficult to ever be “successful” . Because of the perimeters of human fallacy, the freedom of life-choices, the vulnerability of love, and the entitlement to never be wrong, people seem to become an impossibility to measure success by a win or lose scale.

But even still…..I know I’ve won some.

Few.

But I continue to lose…a lot….many people.

As graduation approaches, I consider many of my students who will graduate and others of those whom I will continue to teach. And each year I am filled with sorrow. Sorrow birthed from the physical-leaving of students, yes. But none greater than a sorrow developed from a deep-rooted-love that is ultimately rejected.

Unconditionally loving someone & never hearing them say “I love you too” is infinite suffering. This love has no bounds.

Very few cling and stay. Very few learn and accept the beauty and harshness of love. Very few take advantage of the opportunity. And very many leave…very many do not change. And I feel like I lose…

But I never feel like I really lose because of the few that “stick”.

Except…

…When the few…

…Until…

…and then…

I know I have lost. Really lost.

And I no longer know what success is.

This tale is almost over and the forced workers will be at rest soon as the rider fades away into the sunset walking gingerly in front of his shadow, clutching tightly to a paintbrush and paint can, knowing not where to go or where he has been. Simply holding onto the hope of becoming someone to somebody someday.

Take Up Your Cross and Be Accused For Doing So: Todays Vent

Mon, 09 Apr 2012 19:34:07 -0400

“Perception is reality.”

Is it?

Jesus storms in the temple. Jesus eats with tax collectors. Jesus allows women to touch him. Jesus smells of prostitution perfume after a woman loosens her hair over his feet. Jesus visits a woman by a well and has a secretive conversation. Jesus works on the Sabbath. Jesus calls himself God. Jesus claims he will destroy the Temple in 3 days. Jesus allows the less-qualified to follow him. Jesus touches the dead…

…Jesus accused.

Of what? Of going against everything it means to be a YHWH-follower. Everything.

Cue your suspension of disbelief, or rather accept you’re a pharisee (because if we’re all honest, that’s who we would be during these times: God following, God fearing, Law Abiding, Devoted, “YHWH-ians”:)…and accept the fact that we would’ve crucified Jesus easily based on “perception” alone: heretic, crazy, possessed, irrational, polytheistic, uprising, anti-god-rabbi, that “he showed to be”.

But is perception reality? Surely not always.

Or better said, which perception? Or maybe even better asked, is perception reality simply because of what we naturally perceive or choose to perceive? To ask it differently, perhaps the reality is that we choose our perception based on what we truly want to be a reality for ourselves? Thus, reality is simply a matter of subjective-perception manipulated by the various means we allow to influence what we see and hear and feel and touch? Perhaps the most dangerous of manipulators is fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of change. Fear of being wrong. Fear of light that reveals. Fear of revelation and truth.

So, what about “the other Jesus”? Yeah, the one we “choose” to see “in Jesus” but very rarely in “others”: Jesus healed the sick. Jesus forgive the ungodly. Jesus loved the unloved. Jesus taught emphatically. Jesus obeyed the Torah (somewhat). Jesus performed the miraculous. Jesus never sinned (sheesh). Jesus was fully human. Jesus ate. Jesus drank (Water! Well, wine too. Yes, I went there but that’s not what this is about). Jesus who joked around (even about religion). Jesus our pen-pal and buddy. Jesus the disciples-bestie and BFF. We love this Jesus! This is our WWJD-Jesus! Hooray for Jesus….and yet…

…Jesus accused?

“How dare they?! How could they be so foolish?!”, we exclaim.

And we come together and sing our anthem, “Come follow Jesus and take up your cross!”. But let’s be honest and look where that led Him: crucified unjustifiably for following God no matter what the cost. And isn’t that exactly what we demand of Christians?!

“Yes! Amen” some would shout!

Pharisee! Hypocrite!

Hypocrisy wreaks from the mouths of these contemporary believers.

We crucify people daily.

The cross becomes the mechanism for punishing people who fail to meet the standard of proper-living. It mantles judgment disguised as justice.

Forget the changed life, we want the Sabbath follower! Shame the man who heals a broken heart of a woman in distress by a well! We want Him to be with men at all times, and respectfully not engaging in a lifestyle with those ungodly characters! Forgive the homosexual! But don’t offer them water at their gay-rally! Go to church! Stay away from the public who sin! Memorize doctrinal statements and guidelines and don’t veer from them! Lie about your beliefs so we can all play a role in the theater of church! Style your mask, dance the worshipers dance so we can masquerade at the ball of religion! Reveal not your truths and hearts for they are messy and untamed! Be like Jesus who carefully managed his life by gathering a public-relations team to spin any bad press that came his way. Be like Jesus!…

…But no one really wants Jesus.

Each and all want to settle for a perception of who He “should have been” or whats conducive to our rules, our culture, our confortability-level, our ability to manage what “Jesus looks like in the Christian today”.

And anything outside of that…is blasphemy.

And no one really wants Jesus.

Why? Because he seems to embody all the things that are very un-christian-like ( I know, quote the ironic statement). How is this possible? Because perception is reality…

…apparently.

And no one really wants me.

Why?

Because I have decided to take up my cross and be crucified.

And though I know this to be a highly unlikely and untrue scenario, I imagine in my heart Jesus saying, “Screw perception! I know what I’m doing. I’m following my Father. I’ve heard his voice that has called me ‘His son in whom He is well pleased’. In the end, lives will be changed. Yours? Not so much, you’re so far into your religion you’ve become numb to a God-alive; a God-reality. Your resurrection is hindered by your inability to die.”

Perceive it how you will. This Jesus is my reality…

…Love unconditional. #141

Naive Christianity: Pig Tails & Throw-Up

Sat, 28 Jan 2012 20:41:00 -0500

Excuse me while I vent…

AARRGGHHH!!!! INAPPROPRIATE WORDS! NOT-QUITE-BUT-CLOSE-TO-CURSE WORDS! HALF-A-CURSE WORD! ARE YOU STUPIDLY NAIVE?!!! YOU’RE LOSING THEM!!!

And my heart is breaking…

:Deep Breath:

Ok…

“You can save .10$ on your coffee if you can guess the following question: In Harry Potter, what is the name of Rons pet rat?”

“Oh my gosh I know this!! I challenged myself to read Harry Potter in a month before the last movie came out!”

“Wow…you’re dedicated”, she said with slight grin suggesting that the word dedicated was used as a way to pacify the sarcasm in her voice. I responded with a laugh because it was quite revealing of how much time I really do have on my hands.

“Scabbers! Bam!” I really said bam. She laughed. This was genuine.

“Yeah, I’m on the third book right now. I grew up with them but growing up in a private Christian school my parents said that they were ‘of the devil’ so…”

“Oh……I know. I teach at a private christian school actually. I am a high school bible teacher.”

“Where at?”, she asked.

“First Assembly Christian School in Concord.”

“Yeah, I went to Northside.” These schools are rivals.

She wears french-braided-pig-tails. She is outgoing. She is super sweet. She is funny. She is light-hearted, focused, passionate, and has a good head on shoulders. She doesn’t judge and she seems spontaneous. She’s the type that’s a closet-nerd while being settled in her sexuality as a married women. She is young. She has one more year before graduating college. She has plans. Berkeley University for studies in American and Indian History. She is a hard worker. She is open. She is familiar with the blabber, with the mundane, with the conservative, private Christian School where Kirk Cameron is God and the threat of Hell it’s disciplinary mechanism. She has decided. She is convinced. She is “Christian” no longer.

I sat down and knew I would ask her about her experience at her private christian school…the best aspect of it…and the worst. For some reason, I wasn’t surprised by her response.

“The best…college was a breeze. My hardest year yet was Junior year of high school. I took AP classes and it was just….crazy. I walked into college knowing MLA and their are students who still get 10-20 points off on papers because of format.”

I pointed toward myself, like it was necessary to confess that I was a participant in failure to follow format. She laughed.

“But the worst…the forced religion. There were chapels 5 days-a-week… I mean, my parents became Christians and were like, ‘here ya go!’…and I was pushed into the Christian school. I was a little skeptical but eventually I was all about it. I was passing out tracts my senior year and everything. Then…I don’t know…

This is when my heart broke.

“Eventually I grew up. Neither me or my husband, who went to Northside all his life, are Christians, let alone religious anymore. I really think it’s all just a metaphor for something else. I respect all religions and think they’re all….I’m not sure. Well, except for Scientology.”

Scientology is always an avenue for me to share my experience in L.A. For some reason, I feel it justifies me as being “cultured”. So, I nodded my head and said,

“Yes, it’s quite bizarre.”

“I do respect some religions”, she responded. “I really respect those that care for nature. I think those are genuine.”

And this is why I teach.

This story is why I am determined to continue pushing the envelope in my class even if it gets me fired. Yes, I am serious.

And this story is why I am pissed. I am pissed from a broken heart. A heart that is broken because of the naivety of the local church…especially within the fundamentalist, conservative region in which I currently call home. The church is failing. Let me say it again……the church is failing.

Naive Christianity is no longer good enough.

“Just believe” makes no sense. “Have faith” is ridiculous. “Keep praying” isn’t working. “Read your Bible and go to church” is ineffective. Naive Christianity is OK for the elders and adults of our community, but it is no longer suitable in the postmodern-influenced world. We. Want. More. And the church is failing. It is “repackaging”. It is “standing it’s ground”. It is sticking to its guns….and it is losing.

It lost her.

It is losing students at every graduation.

The students you would hope and be convinced would stand strong in their faith because they’ve been bathed in it. And perhaps that’s the problem.

We force it. Eat it! Eat it! Eat it! Don’t you dare open your mouth to question what’s coming in…just open up and eat it! More and more! Stuffed, down-the-throat…bloated with answers and remedies; fattened with charismatic gestures & piety; intoxicated with emotions & rituals.

The result: Students throw-it-up & crap it out all over themselves, clean their faces, and feel relieved. “Ah…now I can breathe”, they say.

I am not quite sure how to end this blog, as it sincerely was and is intended to be a venting tool. And I surely don’t have “the answer”…but I do know this: We need to be able to doubt. We need to be able to ask questions. We need to be able to disagree. We need to be able to wander. We need to hear other voices. We need more than cliche. We need to be able to flirt with other religions (Yes, I said it & no not syncretism). We need to be able to breathe. Pastors, we need more than Heaven & Hell. We need more than your cycle of sermons. We need more than 3 points. We need more than camps and retreats. We need more than the basics. We need you to educate yourself. We need you to be challenged. We need you to listen. We need you to be willing. We need to be wrong. We need to be right.

We need Christianity for all it’s good, bad, controversial, unknown, peculiar, misleading, mythological, mysterious, unsolvable, iffy, hard-topic, poetic, relevant, irrelevant, historical, practical, spiritual, argumentative, theological, conventional, unconventional, perceptibly-contradictory, ugly-like-moments and beauty that permeates from it’s Truth-Source (The Bible) and Skin (People).

She needs this.

So…..to you young lady,

I will be disliked and scorned by those in the religious circle. I will be cast as a postmodern thinker or a heretic. But I will stand for those in His kingdom that don’t seem to have a place elsewhere. And I will be that voice for you. If for you only.

Sincerely,

Victor Greene

Unsuccessful: Joe Paterno & Tim Tebow

Sun, 22 Jan 2012 14:38:31 -0500

Tim Tebow is a failure…

Joe Paterno is a failure…

…was David unsuccessful?

I have willed myself to refrain from blogging about the Tim Tebow craze until the recent death of Joe Paterno. And although, on the surface, the connection between the two individuals is linked merely to college football….I believe there is more.

Tim Tebow is a failure.

I think my greatest reasons for being Anti-Tebow (which is not synonymous with being Anti-Christ or having a sense of “embarrassment” when it comes to my Christianity despite what Rick Warren would express), is simply because of the Christianity in which it projects: God blesses the good and curses the bad; that God has favorites. Or maybe worse that football actually matters to God. To quote my dearest friend pointing at a charity water advertisement,

“To hell with sports! Give those dying kids some food for Gods sake! How about we refuse to pay athletes and use that money to feed the world and stop world hunger.”

More appropriately stated, these “Tebow-mania” thoughts and ideas fall under the umbrella of conventional wisdom. Participants of this thinking are those who enjoy “Proverbs of the day” and “Blessings to remember”. Speaking on behalf of the Biblical narrative and to quote Walter Bruggemann, “This is the reason for the ‘counter testimony’ in Ecclesiastes, Job, and Lamentations”. All these “other texts” point toward a very fluid and mysterious God who cannot be defined within systems and ideals; who apparently causes all…..for all….despite what one is doing. (Sure sure find the other texts that support faithfulness and blessing….but these are not formulas). The core issue is not within Tebow himself, but within his followers. They are positioning themselves like Aaron as they throw their metals and golds into the fire in order to form an image of something that is not “the main thing”.

Separated by centuries we still surrender to the urge of fashioning ourselves idols. And all idols break at some point.

And so we assume the position. We Tebow. And we exalt Christianity through a man (which according to my records has already and appropriately been done before through the person of Jesus).

But I am worried.

What happens when Tebow gets a girl pregnant out of wedlock? Or what do we do when he decides to support same-sex-marriages? Or maybe we find out he supports Barak Obama or enjoys watching Jersey Shore. What then? What happens when Tebow becomes………..well……David (see Bathsheba for further explanation).

Joe Paterno is a failure.

It’s amazing how one incident can overshadow an entire lifespan and how in our own lives we are offended by the similar treatment…

“But look at everything else I have done!”

The greatest college football coaches death is marred by scandal. The scandal suffocates the past like a young boy blowing out all 7 of his birthday candles. The fire is gone…and all that is left is the memory of what has faded away. Sadly, a good majority of Paterno-followers were too young to experience Paterno in his prime. This means the lasting image of Joe Pa is of a weary old man getting axed and fighting a fatal disease. But there is power in memory.

I sure has heck hope God isn’t the same way. I’d like to think he views the entirety of who I am….like he did David, a man after Gods own heart. Did David ever get “there”? Did the throbs within Gods heart match Davids at any point? Or did David fail…fail chasing. Was his sons rape of his daughter the lasting image of his Kingship? Would his descendants echo the same voice of our culture today:

“I can’t follow that type of man! I thought better of him! He should’ve known! Those were his duties!”

Was David unsuccessful?

Of course he was…because being human IS being unsuccessful, if by unsuccessful you mean being “perfect” and “complete”. By this definition, that is often presupposed, no one is. No one is ever successful by being perfect. But all are successful by being imperfect.

We all fall. Which means we all have the ability to rise.

And this is the power of resurrection.

One day when I have children…

I would love to walk into the living room and see my little boy “Tebowing”; for finding someone who is worthy to look up to. I would likewise enjoy the times where we will sit and read the biblical story of David and how he slain Goliath, followed Saul, and how he had a great bond with Jonathan…a true friend. But we’d get to the messy parts too: Bathsheba and Amnon…Solomon and so on. And he’d turn the channel one day and witness another scandal toward someone he looked up too. And in both, I’d introduce him to heroes: The chasers. The unsuccessful. The limited. The frauds The ever-changing. The inconsistent.

Then I’d point him toward Jesus…

“Now this guy here…he’s quite the dude.”

“Who is he with daddy?”

“…a bunch of failures. Failures like me.”

Waves: A Basketball Story

Wed, 28 Dec 2011 21:24:13 -0500

“Hey! Do you remember me from rec-league basketball?!”, she said with an excited expression on her face. [September 2000]

High School is always a period of time of “becoming” and launching-off into the great unknown. Four years you work towards “getting out” and finally “becoming” your own individual. It’s only later, when you are much older, wiser, and have experienced the highs and lows of post-high school and post-college that the reality of life settles in: Life is a mystery.

But who doesn’t love a mystery?

Mystery allures us and brings us closer and closer, until we finally come to some sort of conclusion. But life insists on being “ultimately unsolvable”. It is a constant question for which we seek to find a single answer for…and instead are left with many. It is a constant mystery that continues to draw us closer and often leaves us with no “answer”. Love being the greatest. We live to love.

And after 15+ years from first meeting this young, Portuguese, girl on the basketball court of our childhood…

I found myself, at the age of 25, watching a high school basketball game as she approached me from afar with a tender smile and a subtle wave. I always remembered her eyes…as if they changed from a green to blue and back again, sometimes settling for a combination that may create a soft, gray tone to them. But more than color, they always were an honest window into who she was, reflecting exactly what her name means: Sarah. Princess.

I sat for a couple of hours hearing her stories, her dreams, her accomplishments; embracing the sweet sounds of nostalgia as we discussed old friends, old places, and old dreams. Our conversation carried over into our current settings, and current revelations that we are now very much old-er. And as the players on the court were demanding my attention, she was all I could focus on.

Her presence became a mirror…her voice an echo. Someone else, a friend, who was also 25, was very much in my very own position. To add to the mystique, she even wore a brown leather jacket like mine. As we sat side-by-side, it was as if we were “together”. A togetherness that wasn’t marked by a long going relationship that had never been broken. No. Instead a togetherness of mutuality that felt almost familial. We had come from the same grounds, though not entirely. And here we were in the same place…at the same time…with the same story: life is a mystery…love being the greatest.

“I bet in 2.5 to 3 years you will be engaged…”, I said to her.

She laughed and said, “OK Mr. Cleo. We will see.”

And heck, I could be wrong. In fact, I could be WAY wrong. Only time will tell. But who wouldn’t want a girl who owns a house, has a stable job, is a bit of a nerd, and likes sports?! (This, of course, excluding her physique and the fact she’s beautiful).

It was the easiest bet I could ever make.

After all, why bet against a Princess? I just felt good being the guy next to her at the game! It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to walk with that type of pride.

We walked out the gym appreciative of our encounter, and like usual, I left feeling as if I should’ve said or done more; as if this one-time encounter wasn’t quite “finished”. I’m not sure what that means but I do know that a simple conversation with an old-friend meant the world to me. It reminded me of who I am and where I am going. And that there are those who are with me…even in distance.

And maybe most importantly I was reminded that life is a story; that life is cyclical…or as she put it “comes in waves”.

That the next wave is on it’s way.

And if not for me, certainly for her. And if not the wave or way we expect it, certainly a current that will crash us against the shores of our destiny; not leaving us stranded, but rather right where we need to be.

“Next time you’re in Vero, let me know!”, Sarah said as we embraced and broke apart.

“I will. I promise”

Basketball brought us together once. And basketball brought us together again…

I can only hope there are more games to be played.

"‎”The church always looks exactly as it looked at the original crucifixion, God hung among..."

Sun, 20 Nov 2011 21:17:13 -0500

“‎”The church always looks exactly as it looked at the original crucifixion, God hung among thieves.””

- The Holy Longing

Ezekiel's Stroke

Mon, 17 Oct 2011 15:22:26 -0400

The Gungor Album was recently released and each song sings my soul.

But it has been “Ezekiel” (check out the lyrics!) that will not leave me. Not simply because of its rhythmic genius…but because of its story. A man (YHWH) willing to invest in the dead, worthless, abandoned, forsaken and ugly woman (Israel). A woman who eventually becomes beautiful. But hear beauty fades in the light of promiscuity. Naked she roams. Sex she offers. She forgets of who she once was.

And I find myself “feeling Ezekiel” (16).

Investing in one whose love is unreturned.

And the questions loom, “Is the investment worth it?”

“Who is at fault? The individual for investing or the individual who receives that which has been forcefully invested?”

Abused and shattered.

Beginnings overshadowed.

Distance unnoticed in the matter.

Love breaks, one stroke creates its splatter.

Canvassed dreams fall beneath the echoes of regret.

You broke my heart…

…I broke my heart.

Because I believed.

Now…to what do I believe?

Broken or mendable.

Broken or Mendable.

Broken or mendable.

Come back my love…

"Jerome complains about heretical preachers: “They persuade the people that what they invent is true;..."

Wed, 21 Sep 2011 00:48:44 -0400

“Jerome complains about heretical preachers: “They persuade the people that what they invent is true; then, in a theatrical manner, they invite applause and shouting.””

- Shiner “Proclaiming the Gospel” (via christopherabel)

My Classroom Wall Part II: Proverbs 7-9 (Woman Folly)

Tue, 20 Sep 2011 10:59:42 -0400

My Classroom Wall Part II: Proverbs 7-9 (Woman Folly)

My Classroom Wall Part I: Proverbs 7-9 (Woman Wisdom)

Tue, 20 Sep 2011 10:58:36 -0400

My Classroom Wall Part I: Proverbs 7-9 (Woman Wisdom)

comeondance: Melanie Moore (SYTYCD Season 8 Winner)

Fri, 12 Aug 2011 23:42:56 -0400

comeondance:

Melanie Moore (SYTYCD Season 8 Winner)

slutzilla: melanie moore’s so you think you can dance audition

Fri, 12 Aug 2011 23:40:22 -0400

slutzilla:

melanie moore’s so you think you can dance audition

Dance. Worship. Melanie Moore.

Thu, 11 Aug 2011 19:28:17 -0400

Dance. Worship. Melanie Moore.