06/29/13

Crime for Community

The numerous push factors experienced by at-risk individuals vary situationally however follow a common theme for the desire of power, respect, money and protection...These at-risk individuals feel ostracized from the community and are experiencing a lack of social support. Upon joining a gang, they instantly gain a feeling of belonging and identity; they are surrounded with individuals whom they can relate to. They have generally grown up in the same area as each other and can bond over similar needs. In some areas, joining a gang is an integrated part of the growing up process
-Gang, Wikipedia

For the first time, I didn't ask my ATF bosses if I could take time off from the Billy St.John role, I told them. I was going back to North Carolina to bury my mother and spend some time mourning with my family. I told the Mongols I wouldn't be around for a while because my mother had died. Then I picked up the pieces of my broken heart and went home to be with my family. When I returned to Los Angeles, still deeply hurting, I tried to shake off my emotions and get back into the game. I arrived just in time for the Mongol's New Year's run...At about five in the afternoon I motored up to Evel's house, parked my bike in the front yard, and went to the door. Evel immediately gave me a smothering hug. "Sorry about your mom, brother," he said. "I love you." I thanked him. Evel couldn't see it in my eyes, but I was frozen in space, unable to move as I watched him walk away. He was the first person, other than family to offer me condolences. I had been back from the funeral for several days. I had met with several ATF agents, and not one, not even Ciccone, had expressed their sympathy to me. No one from ATF had sent a card or uttered a word. I realized that I was just another number to ATF. I wasn't Bill Queen, a flesh-and-blood man; I was ATF badge number 489. Without warning, I felt some ancient wall crumbling inside me; I wanted to grab Evel and tell him everything-the whole goddamn story. "Look, brother," I wanted to scream, "get your fuckin' shit together-or you're gonna end up in prison!" And at that moment I didn't want to send him to prison. I slumped into his tattered, beer-stained sofa, holding back tears.
-Under and Alone, Chapter 12, William Queen

gangs are less about crime and more about community.

according to the Arizona Department of Public Safety gang members join because of:

Acceptance - Many kids feel they are not getting the attention they think they deserve
at home. They start looking for this attention and love in other places and often find
what they are looking for in a gang. The gang essentially becomes their family.

Protection - In low income neighborhoods and neighborhoods with high gang activity,
kids often have to join a gang just to survive. It is often easier to join the gang than to
be victimized on a daily basis. This can be an issue in a school that is not effectively
suppressing gang activity. These kids need to involve adults in their feeling of insecurity as an alternative to joining a gang; the adults can pursue their kids' security needs
by communicating these concerns with school or law enforcement officials, immediately.

Socialize - The best parties in town are gang parties. Easy access to liquor, narcotics, and girls are attractive to potential gang recruits. Young males who have a
hard time socializing and talking to girls, find that girls often like gang members.

The average age of gang members is 14 to 21 years of age. Gang members, however,
can be as young as 8 years old or as old as mid 40's. Recruitment into the gang usually
starts in the middle school where the age group is between 10 and 13. Some recruitment has also been seen in elementary schools and into the early years of high school.
Most gangs target youth that are easily persuaded into doing work for the gang.
-azdps.gov

Lets say you grow up off North Santa Fe Ave Compton, California. You are raised by your mom because your father who was a crip since he was 14 was murdered by the Elm Street Piru. Your dad's friends come by your house and give you and your mom gifts and things to help support you. By the time you are 14 if you aren't already wearing only blue you're begging to get started in Santana Blocc. Once You join it's only a matter of time before you are killed leaving a fatherless son to be raised by his mother.

Notice the system?

It's the entire plot and premise around the FX original show "Sons of Anarchy" This idea of community within these groups of crime. Its a starving for family. Its seeking and looking for love. William Queen has video evidence of not only a picnic with the notorious biker gang the Mongols but also vacation footage. These aren't heartless demons. These are humans begging for love searching for community. And desiring purpose.

We find this same theme in not just television but Hollywood movies. 2006 The Departed is almost a page out of William Queens life:

Frank Costello: I got this rat, this gnawing, cheese eating fuckin' rat and it brings up questions... You know, see, Bill, like you're the new guy. Girlfriend... Why don't you stay in the bar that night I got your numbers. Social Security numbers. Everybody's fuckin' numbers.

Billy Costigan: Is there something that you just wanna go ahead and ask me? 'Cause I'll give you the fuckin' answer, all right? Frank, look at me. Look at me. I'm not the fuckin' rat. Okay? I'm not the fuckin' rat.

Billy, of course, is the rat. but interestingly enough Matt Damon's character plays a cop who works for Frank Costello. It's a great movie, what was I talking about?

Point Break tells the story of an undercover cop who finds himself in too deep with the gang. When faced with the opportunity to shoot the leader...or rather his new close friend...he finds his trigger finger completely frozen.

Its interesting to me to think that every group no matter the label all seem to show one common thread. Love for the ingroup.

Love in the church
Love in the KKK
Love in the crips
Love in the bloods
Love in the Mongols
Love in the Nazis

but the difference comes with the treatment of the outgroup.

It's in us to be loved. We all need to be liked. We all need to feel confirmed, to feel validation. It's all a matter of where we find it. It's that bit of truth mixed in that corruption that makes it difficult to see the faults.

Much like Walter White in the show "Breaking Bad" the audience finds itself rooting for a murdering drug dealer because we see the human behind the sin. Lines start to get blurred.

I've been thinking about this idea of gangs for a little while now. A little over a week and I find this idea of gangs very interesting.

An outcast mocked by the majority finds sanctuary among a community of people who have also been outcasted. This collection of "Lost Boys" create their own community. An island of misfit toys so to speak. They not only find identity in this place but they find power. To say this island is filled with misfit toys to is say you know the definition of a fit toy. To have a narrow view on what is fit and misfit.

People act out of their wounds and hurts everyday.

This brings me to my ultimate question on the issue of gangs.

Can a Crip be a Christian?

Lets go back to the Santana Blocc Compton Crip. He's Not 14 anymore he's 40. He steps into a church, a place that has long judged not him specifically but his lifestyle choice. As he experiences love and acceptance within the church community he begins to seek his Creator more and more. Through an amazing experience with Jesus he decides to become a christian.

This man has identified himself as a member of the crip community basically his whole life. If you were to ask him he would say without a doubt he was born this way. He was born a crip. But as Christians God has set a standard. God has set boundaries in our lives and for our good. Like a parent God disciplines (Hebrews 12).

Two sides of the Christian community begin to emerge:
Crips can be Christians as is due to unconditional love
We must die to ourselves and pick up our cross being reborn.

Which is it? What do you require Jesus? What does love look like? Does love let anyone in as is? Or does Love have boundaries? Is their freedom in boundaries? Or is there only legalism? What of people with stories like this? What of people whose identity is so engulfed into a community that giving up that sin would be a giving up of self? Is that what it means to decrease so that you may increase? We are all born sinners. At least in the sense that it seems harder for us to consider empathetically every decision. It takes great wisdom, knowledge, and self control to love our neighbors as ourselves. I don't know, am I rambling? does this even make sense? To love our neighbor? is that to enable them in whatever condition they are in when I met them? Or is it to push, to motivate, to engage in the art of perfecting and becoming Christ-like? Do I allow my heroine addicted brothers to stay that way? Would they not feel loved if I purchased for them all of their drugs? Is love beyond making someone feel good? Does love sometimes sting? Does love sometimes feel like betrayal?

I just want to love my neighbors but this community I live in, this time, this country, it makes the definition of love so muddy! Which sins are no longer sins? which sins are still sins? Because I can see the physical consequences of drug abuse does that mean its a sin? Since abortion is taking away the right of the mother in defense of the right of the child...which is the loving thing to do? Allow abortions or not? all of this of course leading up to the question I have been wrestling with for YEARS and YEARS now If a person believes they were born gay...

Speaking on the topic automatically makes me an ignorant prejudice bastard I understand but more than caring about what people think of me I'd rather find truth...I know no better way to ask these questions than to appear standing on the side of the line with the Westboro Baptist "Christians" I don't feel like I am among them but it seems to the LGBT community if you aren't for us you're against us. But maybe I am for them? Maybe being for them is painful...maybe being for them is prohibiting them from their desires?

There seems to be plenty of people who have come out of the gay community and have become straight. I suppose like a crip trying to leave the gang, it isn't easy and once changed the community would argue that you never really was one to start. It's easy to discount them and push them aside...but what if it's true? What if these people really were gay...what if they really truly full force felt, acted, marched, believed they were gay...and God saved them?

Why is that such a laughable idea? Why is that such a backwoods hick Christian idea? We believe it for any other redemption story. We love to hear the stories of out of control rock stars finding God, or on the brink athletes finding God and turning their lives. What about David Berkowitz?

What is it with homosexuality that sets itself apart?

So much I do not understand.


Sigur Rós - Varúð

06/24/13

As they led Jesus away, a man named Simon, who was from Cyrene, happened to be coming in from the countryside. The soldiers seized him and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus.
-Luke 23

Jesus didn't carry the cross for at least a portion of the Via Dolorosa. He may have had His hands bound. He may have never touched the thing until nailed to it. It may have only been the patibulum. Or He might have shared the burden with Simon the whole way. We don't know. We probably never will know on this earth.

The interesting thing to note despite whatever theological view you have on the carrying of the cross... We know for a fact Jesus didn't carry the entire burden completely on His own...

What does that mean?

Why would God have it this way?

Wouldn't it be such a better story if our Hero muscled through using every last ounce of His strength but finishing the deed alone?

Our Hero doesn't...our Hero possibly stumbles...according to the stations of the cross in the Roman Catholic faith our Hero falls not once, not twice, but three times.

How embarrassing.

The Savior of the world tripping?
The Savior of the world needing help?
God showing weakness?

Am I okay with this?
Should I try to justify this to make my perception of Jesus stronger? More powerful?

The truth is something happened and some guy named Simon from a place called Cyrene carried the cross of the Savior of the world for however long to whatever degree.

Why?

Jesus was a man.
Jesus was a weak homeless man.

Jesus didn't carry the cross 100%

I find that detail that one verse that one portion to be absolutely fascinating.

No matter how hard we try to make Jesus into this King, this Hero, He makes damn sure we can lift Him no higher than servant.

He tells people after He performs a miracle not to tell anyone.
He is born in a barn
He is homeless
He doesn't say a word during His trial
He washing the feet of His followers
He tells us we'll do greater things than He did
He cries all the time
He asks for a way out of the cross
He eats with strippers
He says we have to be like children
He hangs on a cross naked
He wears a crown made of thorns
He can't even carry His own cross unassisted

This is Jesus He is my King, He is my God and there is none mightier. There is none as worthy.

Who is like the Lord?

Hammock - Breathturn

06/22/13

When I was an adolescent roughly 13 years ago now when I was around 12 I use to drink orange juice non stop. Not just any orange juice but pulp free with calcium orange juice.

It was the summer before 7th grade and I was trying out for the 7th grade football team. I drank Orange Juice without pulp and with calcium for two reasons:

Vitamin C so I would never be ill
and Calcium so I would never break a bone

The logic of an adolescent is unmatched.

I use to reach up and grab the biggest glasses the cupboard contained and I would fill it literally to the brim with OJ then I would perform the balancing act of walking it to the front room to play video games and drink my elixir of immortality.

One day I recall in the middle of the summer of 2000 I had just poured this giant class and placed it beside me. After a time and with the grace of a 12 year old I knocked the glass over and out poured at least a pint of OJ. It spread like an orange oil spill over the ocean blue carpet.

Horror filled my heart as I knew Doug was in the other room. I had to be quiet and I had to be convert to clean up this spill. As I was making trips back and forth to the kitchen to grab towels and paper towels I had strategically placed the ottoman over the spill in between trips.

Eventually Doug too note of my many trips to the kitchen. He followed me into the front room and I was resting on the ottoman in the middle of the floor like nothing was different about this day.

"Move the ottoman"

my heart stopped completely as those words entered my ears rattled around and found their way to my brain.

I felt like an orchestra conductor the more I rolled away the ottoman like a stone door to an ancient grave the louder Doug's sentence became.

"ADAM! WHAT DID YOU DO? WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO POUR SUCH A GIANT GLASS OF ORANGE JUICE? COME ON!"

the rest is a bit fuzzy in my memory but the message was received...

I messed up, as if my obvious shame and attempt at covering it up wasn't evidence enough to my father he wanted to make sure I knew that was not a good thing.

As a 25 year old man I've found there is grace for adults that there isn't found for children.

These days if I spill something on a couch or carpet while visiting my parents I don't receive nearly the tongue thrashing I once did.

Why do we do this?

We teach our children:
Use kind words
Use kind hands
Share
Wait
Clean up after yourself

Yet we as adults don't really believe in what we are teaching. If we believed in these teachings wouldn't we find them in our own lives?

Why is it all of the sudden adults are allowed to yell at one another? Hit each other? Keep to themselves? Demand? Have someone else clean for them?

Is it not the same way with the stories of the bible?

We teach these songs, these stories, these "tales"
but as adults do we really believe them? Do we trust in them as children do?
Jesus becomes Santa the older we get.

Why?

Why don't we see adults walking around grabbing each other and saying:
"That was not a good choice, what do you need to say to that cashier?"
"We do not talk to our friends like that"
"You can go sit down for 5 minutes, we do not hit our friends at the bar"

I think the fact is we don't believe these things are the way we should live.

I think as children we see our parents acting as complete hypocrites and we tell ourselves:
"once I'm an adult I'm moving out and living by my own rules."

But our own rules are really the exact rules our parents live by.

and the cycle continues.

What if we practiced what we preached?
What if we believed in Jesus?
What if we didn't have such little faith?
What if we trusted, staked our lives on the teachings of Jesus?

What would our lives look like?
What would our children's lives look like?
What would our communities look like?

Why do we live this way?
Why do we settle?

Which is it?
An orange Juice spill is a heinous crime or is it easily covered by grace?

Window - The Album Leaf

06/19/13

The charm of traveling is everywhere I go, tiny life. I go to the hotel, tiny soap, tiny shampoos, single-serving butter, tiny mouthwash and single-use toothbrush. Fold into the standard airplane seat. You're a giant. The problem is your shoulders are too big. Your Alice in Wonderland legs are all of a sudden miles so long they touch the feet of the person in front. Dinner arrives, a miniature do-it-yourself Chicken Cordon Bleu hobby kit, sort of put-it-together project to keep you busy.
-Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

Single-serving communion, Single-serving church, Single-serving worship.

Don't sit next to me. Don't touch my "communion elements" We drive in our single-serving vehicles to our single-serving weekly church service. We walk in and are welcomed as we single file receive our single-serving bulletin. We grab our single-serving communion and take our single-serving seat, not too close to the front, not to close to the next person.

Is this the body of Christ?
Is this the love of Christ?
Is this what Jesus had in mind during the last supper passover meal?

Let's keep the blood of Christ boxed in, separated, and clean. I don't really want to talk to you I'm just here to worship.

How are you today? Good how are you? Good Morning! Good Morning! What are we doing? Is this the community from the book of the Acts? Check my watch, why is he still talking? slide out the back to beat the traffic, sacrifice the doxology for a new record drive time home to my single-serving house.

Here we are pouring out the blood of Christ in tiny cups and breaking the body of Christ into tiny wafers. This is not the Eucharist! If Heaven is a banquet feast and God himself has set the table for us I hope it is nothing like our Earthly ritual. Heavens places set with TV dinners wrapped in plastic hot on the outside ice in the middle.

This isn't the way it's suppose to be. What happened to daily meeting at the temple and daily meals with the entire congregation of the body of Christ? shoulder to shoulder, your sweat dripping into my cup of wine. My fingers grazing your bread as I reach for more lamb. What happened to the community? The laughter, the sharing of lives? the tears the sharing of heartache? Where is the Love? Where is God? Do we have time for Him? Do we want to make time for God? Or would he ruin our Sunday plans? Church ends at noon God knows that! The Passover feast has turned into "Pass-the communion plate-over" hurry up I don't have all day!

That teaching as interesting, that teaching was lame, the music sucked today, I've heard those songs 10000 times. Single-serving Christian critic. My senses weren't stimulated enough. See You next week, for the hour we have to sit here together or else we'll roast in Hell because of the anger of this wrathful God we "love" or more aptly "fear"

I want to scarf a feast with the entire church! I want the Sunday service to be a meal. No teaching, no routine, just music, dancing, and eating! we come together as one to love and celebrate. We share our pain and our joy. The teachings can happen Monday-Saturday but Sunday should be the feast! the Communion, the Passover, the Eucharist!

This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time.
-Fight Club

Communion Cups and Someone's Coat - Iron & Wine

06/15/13

In the center of a once-great city there stood a magnificent cathedral that was cared for by a kindly old priest who spent his days praying in the vestry and caring for the poor. As a result of the priest’s tireless work, the cathedral was known throughout the land as a true sanctuary. The priest welcomed all who came to his door and gave completely without prejudice or restraint. Each stranger was, to the priest, a neighbor in need and thus the incoming of Christ. His hospitality was famous and his heart was known to be pure. No one could steal from this old man, for he considered no possession his own, and while thieves sometimes left that place with items pillaged from the sanctuary, the priest never grew concerned: he had given everything to God and knew that these people needed such items more than the church did.

Early one evening in the middle of winter, while the priest was praying before the cross, there was a loud and ominous knock on the cathedral door. The priest quickly got to his feet and went to the entrance, as he knew it was a terrible night and reasoned that his visitor might be in need of shelter.

Upon opening the door he was surprised to find a terrifying demon towering over him with large dead eyes and rotting flesh.

“Old man,” the demon hissed, “I have traveled many miles to seek your shelter. Will you welcome me in?”

Without hesitation, the priest bid this hideous demon welcome and beckoned him into the church. The evil demon stooped down and stepped across the threshold, spitting venom onto the tiled floor as he went. In full view of the priest, the demon proceeded to tear down the various icons that adorned the walls and rip the fine linens that hung around the sanctuary, while screaming blasphemy and curses.

During this time the priest knelt silently on the floor and continued in his devotions until it was time for him to retire for the night.

“Old man,” cried the demon, “where are you going now?”

“I am returning home to rest, for it has been a long day,” replied the kindly priest.

“May I come with you?” spat the demon. “I too am tired and in need of a place to lay my head.”

“Why, of course,” replied the priest. “Come, and I will prepare a meal.”

On returning to his house, the priest prepared some food while the evil demon mocked the priest and broke the various religious artifacts that adorned his humble dwelling. The demon then ate the meal that was provided and afterward turned his attention to the priest,

“Old man, you welcomed me first into your church and then into your house. I have one more request for you: will you now welcome me into your heart?”

“Why, of course,” said the priest, “what I have is yours and what I am is yours.”

This heartfelt response brought the demon to a standstill, for by giving everything the priest had retained the very thing that the demon sought to take. For the demon was unable to rob him of his kindness and his hospitality, his love and his compassion. And so the great demon left in defeat, never to return.

What happened to that demon after this meeting with the elderly priest is anyone’s guess. Some say that although he left that place empty-handed he received more than he could ever have imagined.

And the priest? He simply ascended his stairs, got into bed and drifted off to sleep, all the time wondering what guise his Christ would take next.

-Salvation for a Demon by Pete Rollins

Even though I am not with you in person, I am with you in the Spirit. And as though I were there, I have already passed judgment on this man in the name of the Lord Jesus. You must call a meeting of the church. I will be present with you in spirit, and so will the power of our Lord Jesus. Then you must throw this man out and hand him over to Satan so that his sinful nature will be destroyed and he himself will be saved on the day the Lord returns.

-1 Corinthians 5

What do I do Jesus?
Do I guard my heart by not allowing demons to damage my trust and love?
Or do I guard my heart by not allowing certain people in?

Do I eat with tax collectors and sinners? Or do I hand them over to Satan?

We Need Help - The Album Leaf

06/12/13

We're all selfish children in adult bodies. Our being stays the same it's our body that deceives.

Yesterday as Preston spills his cup of water for water colors all over the floor I tell him to get some paper towels to lean it up. I turn back to continue reading to Ciaran. After a couple minutes I look back to see Daniel and Preston have been using soaking wet paper towels making an even bigger mess. I stand to my feet and sternly tell them to use DRY paper towels DRY! The whole time Preston is looking at me to see my reaction to see what happens when he gets caught. To see if he could do something wrong and get away with it.

Am I so different?

I look into Preston's eyes and tell him to get DRY paper towels and I realize I'm looking into a mirror of myself 22 years ago. It wasn't all that long ago I was in preschool.

Am I that different? Or have I just learned when to do the wrong thing and not get caught?

His face reminded me of how I sometimes feel when I've been "found out" by God. I know You see everything but there is this delusion that I could get away with this. Or This strange itching that is constantly asking "I wonder what would happen if I made a mess?"

I can see it on the eyes of children faced with a giant block tower...this itching...this hypnotizing desire...

"I must knock this over"

Why do we do that? Are adults any different? We know the pain it will cause the builder we know the trouble it will cause ourselves and yet here we are stepping pigeon toed towards the proverbial block tower.

Does that make every tower smasher a "bad kid?"
NO!
Does that make every sinner deserve eternity in Hell?

I suppose I shouldn't make light of sin. Block towers and adultery are two different levels.

But I do wonder, no parent can ever see their child as a "bad kid"
If we are the children of God, what is His view of us?


Eat You Alive - The Oh Hello's

06/08/13

Today I learned a lot of wisdom from my counseling session:

strength to strength:
I learned that leaders must speak strength to strength. It is the way of showing love.

God will only go as far as one's will:
When it comes to healing and working in our lives God will never force or push further than we will.

an act of courage:
surpassing a weakness with a strength.

we must speak to people's weakness' through their strengths:
Change will only happen when we speak first to a strength in order to address a weakness.

speaking to someone's weakness' through our strength is prideful and hurtful:
It comes off as condescending and I'm not speaking that person's love language, rather I am speaking my own strengths and anger because they don't share the same strengths.

Life my way:
This is one of my biggest weaknesses. I want to be in control of all situations I am placed in. If I seems like something I'm not in power with I will get out. I need to let go. I need to die to myself.

Love the sinner hate the sin in me:
when confronting anyone in a cycle of sin or a habit of sin we must always love the sinner period. Hate the sin in me. We aren't called to judge. Who you choose to be doesn't affect who I am. Never let how someone else is affect who you are.

My biggest fear is failure:
I think when the skin is pulled back, when the blood is drained and the bones are splintered my biggest fear is failure. I don't know why. I pray that the Holy Spirit would dig into this a little deeper with me and reveal a wound or the root of this. I pray that all fear would be cast out.

Leagues - Spotlight

06/06/13

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack'd anything.

"A guest," I answer'd, "worthy to be here";
Love said, "You shall be he."
"I, the unkind, the ungrateful? ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee."
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
"Who made the eyes but I?"

"Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them; let my shame
Go where it doth deserve."
"And know you not," says Love, "who bore the blame?"
"My dear, then I will serve."
"You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meat."
So I did sit and eat.
-LOVE (III)
by George Herbert

Who is like the Lord?
What love is this?
What sort of God are You?
What king would ever die for a criminal in His land?
What all powerful being would desire my presence at His table?
Would the president of the United State ever live in the slums of America washing feet and getting spat on?
How curious Your love.
There is nothing like it.
I scarce can take it in.
What a price You've paid to be in the presences of such scum?
What a price I am unwilling to pay to be in the presences of such Glory?
The chasm prohibits my eyes from rising.
Yet here You are creator of these two tiny organs pleading their elevation.
My heart turns violently inside of my chest.
It becomes clear to me why none may look upon You without the blood of the lamb.
My heart couldn't handle the bridge of love across this chasm of filth.
This body of mine would cease to function due to the monstrous magnitude of Your righteousness.

But what do You require of me for such a price?
What do you ask of me?
I will do whatever task.
Whatever mission You require.
To sit and taste?
It cannot be.
Who is like the Lord?
My mind tumbles and spins.
There is no such thing as a free lunch in the land that I come from.
But here is no lunch but rather a feast my soul can compare to nothing.
Yet it isn't the spread that causes such a response
But rather the one at the table pleading my company.
I have made mistakes!
More than the hairs on my head, the count which You are familiar.
Oh how I'd rather You know the former's debt,
yet this grace that washes me keeps no record of such.
As I bring my stained record to You figuring there some invitation error
I find it in my hands washed white as snow!
FOOL!
I shout at my very Creator.
You claim to be the Judge well I seriously question Your integrity.
If You let me in this banquet feast You're only tarnishing Your perfection of judgement.
Then as I examine my King's perfect image I note the two holes in His palms.
Again I am hushed by my very own soul.
Damn it I think why did You go and do something so stupid like that?
Why did You have to go and ruin Your perfection just so You could sit in the company of scum?
Then I am reminded of who is my judge.
It isn't my opinion that matters.
Rather it is Yours.
Through Your lens I am far from scum.
Like an infant son with a soiled diaper no parent would dare entertain thoughts of scum.
Well I still don't understand!
You claim to be wise and just
Yet love and grace seem to speak a different language than wisdom and justice.
But why me Lord?
Why me?

I Have Made Mistakes - The Oh Hello's

06/05/13

What do you do when your face irritates?

When talking only frustrates?

When asking what do you mean gets an eye roll?

What do you do when they don't want to commit?

What do you do when you don't understand?

What do you do when they say they really like you?

What do you do when you really like them?

What do you do when they say the good times are really good and the bad times are really bad?

What do you do when they are tired of talking in circles?

But you still don't understand?

What do you do when you feel like they'd be happier with someone else but they swear they really want this to work?

What do you do when fear drive them?

What do you do when you remind them of their dad so you never get a shot?

What do you do when you are very different?

What do you do when change is inevitable?

What do you do when you try everything and it doesn't seem to work?

How long before you give up?

What do you do if asking questions feels like a debate to them?

What do you do when the day is perfect but the ending is sour?

What do you do when they demand a guarantee of safety?

What do you do when you are tired but they want to stay?

Why is this so incredibly difficult for me?

Am I the only one?

Is something different about me?

Am I not meant for this sort of relationship?

What do you do when they say "I feel like you don't like me"?

What do you do when you really like them and are trying but failing?

What do I do?

What should I do?

This is such a mess. How do I even begin to clean it up? Is there anything left to salvage? Am I only created to be a great friend to everyone? Is something wrong with me?

Coldplay - The Scientist

06/01/13

I just want to be liked.

where does my witness come from?
Do I listen to the voice of lies?
Do I pursue the affirmation of people?
Do I seek worldly accolades?
Do I trust Your word?

The fact of the matter is I struggle with self hate. I don't like myself.
When someone who needs to be liked doesn't like who they are they begin to seek affirmation from places. This leads to addiction.

The writer of Ecclesiastes sought this affirmation through
wealth
women
food
the writer couldn't seem to find contentment or peace in those things.

There isn't anything wrong with wealth, women or food. They are good gifts from God. The problem is the appetite.

We are built to ask the question am I loved? Am I good enough? Do I have what it takes?
The question isn't the problem. The answer is the problem.

You are if...

There are no ifs, no strings, no conditions, no barriers to God's love.
How do I trust that? How do I believe that I am enough and loved by the Creator of all?

When I doubt that truth, when I buy that lie, the addiction comes back and I run to places asking the question do you like me?

Then I find myself disgusted at myself for the fact that I had to get my worth from that place and I find myself worse off than I started.

The cycle doesn't seem breakable.

What is grace?

What is grace in it's fullest purest form? What does it truly feel like?

I have a problem flirting with women.
I have a need to be liked.
I have a God who likes me deeply.
Why do I need the words of humans to find my worth?
Why do I need the money of this world to find my worth?
Why do I need the awards and achievements of this world to find my worth?
I don't.

So I decided there is nothing better than to enjoy food and drink and to find satisfaction in work. Then I realized that these pleasures are from the hand of God. For who can eat or enjoy anything apart from him?
-Ecclesiastes 2

Apart from God nothing can satisfy,
With God anything can satisfy.

I am a sinner but so is everyone else.
We all need grace we've never given.
We all need to be washed in the blood.
But even after that we need our feet washed daily and Jesus is more than willing to change our diapers.

As soon as we soil our diaper we have the choice to run to Abba and get it changed or we can sit in it and develop a collection and a very painful crippling rash. If we deny or avoid our sin it only compounds and further imprisons us. If we try to save ourselves, if we try to act like we are perfect, we will lose ourselves. If we try to lose ourselves, if we admit we are sinners, babies with filthy diapers, then we will be saved.

I am a man and I need to feel liked.
And that's ok.
God I pray that You would show me that You like me. Help me feel.


You are mine - Enter the Worship Circle