beneath the music from a farther room

a Prodigal's song as sung by Another.

2011-12-31T02:34:00.002-05:00

This is my Story.

This is my Song.

From a Sinner to his Maker

Your Prodigal son is on his knees.

Sweet God, please hold onto me.

A House Divided. A House on Fire.

2011-12-22T02:32:00.010-05:00

His House is on fire, but he stands in the doorway with the Law held high, opposing any force that threatens the ideas his grandfathers passed down that have long been gathering dust, and now burn as tinder for the consuming flames of Truth and Progress. He'll lose it all for the sake of preserving it all. In the end out of the ashes will rise what some had been for years trying to bring about peaceably, but without the redeemable portions of the past that might have been preserved. And our children will tell their children of life before he let it all burn down, but they won't understand, and the House he left on fire will fade from the stories of time, only to be glimpsed in the reflection of the tears of the old men that recall a time when the House still stood.

These Days

2011-12-11T21:53:00.001-05:00

These days I seem to think a lot

About the things that I forgot to do.

And all the times I had the chance to.

If I Die Young

2011-10-24T02:51:00.003-04:00

Like me, many of you read, or were at least introduced to Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer as a child. For me it brings back memories of grade school musicals about the subject and my intense fear of Sawyer's nemesis, "Injun Joe",--incidentally I just at this moment realized how racist it is that the main antagonist is a murderous, thieving, Native American, but that will have to be saved for a later post on my literary blog.

My point in referencing Tom Sawyer is because of a specific scene in the book. After running away from home, and encountering a series of unfortunate events, Tom and a few of his friends are assumed to have drowned in the river. A funeral is planned, and I don't remember how or why, but Tom ends up in the rafters of the church as the funeral is being conducted. He sets up and watches the events unfold as his Aunt Polly and various others mourn his loss, and is privileged to see himself through the raw, honest eyes of those who grieve him.

I've been thinking of this story, and honestly been envious. I have to admit that the thought of being able to hear what people thought of me, or seeing who was really moved and affected by my death is an enticing thought to me. Don't get me wrong, I have no plans to be taken out anytime soon unless God so allows, but I think its something to think about. What would people say at your funeral? Who would show up? Would anyone? I think, if somehow given the chance, most people would be curious to see what actually transpires in response to their death. Its some kind of transcendent human need to know that our life held meaning outside of ourselves. That's what I'm getting at. How is my life impacting others? And the things I say, and thoughts I share, do they have meaning that transcend myself, or would they be buried forever with me?

_____________________

A penny for my thoughts,

Oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar.

They're worth so much more

After I'm a goner.

And maybe then you'll hear

The words that I've been singin'.

Funny when you're dead how

People start listenin'.

- excerpted from "If I Die Young" as sung by The Band Perry.

2011-10-23T01:56:00.002-04:00

These days I feel like every day I wake up in a fog, fighting to see a reason I should get out of bed. Most days my reason wins out, and I get up to face the day. Occasionally, there are days that I'm not as strong as I wish I was, and I hide underneath the covers wishing that some state of unconsciousness would overtake me. The worst days though, are those in which I'm moving and breathing; speaking and laughing; sharing and loving; without meaning any of it. The days I had enough grace to put on my plastic smile and say the things Jesus would've said to people who wouldn't hear it any other way even if I had the nerve to tell them plainly.

I've always had a mask though, I think and now that I'm being honest with myself, I'm finding within my heads, thoughts that I hate to admit are there, but are nonetheless.

Worst of all, even in my lostness, I'm not really sure I want to be found right now. I don't think I could take another day of plastic smiles and the right word for the right situation. That would kill me right now, cause it wouldn't be real. I think I need to wander for a while, and as painful as it is for someone who has always been tied to some group or organization greater than himself, there is a sad peace in knowing that while I may be alone at least it will all be real.

So I guess in the end, right now I'd rather be lost in a dark forest with real haunts and shadows than sitting in a sandbox in front of holograph of the sea, pretending to feel the ocean breeze.

I'm not talking about God really. I know that He is good and all the other things I'm supposed to say about Him. I also honestly believe all that, and that Hope is all I really have. But at the same time I'm tired of pretending I've got it all figured out and am a good kid in sunday school. This is me and this is real.

wales and a traveler I passed

2011-10-16T01:51:00.001-04:00

Thoughts on Friends that I have Known.

2011-10-13T10:39:00.015-04:00

There are friends that I have known.
Some I knew for who they were.
Some I knew for who I wished them to be.
Some I knew deeply.
Others I knew with only a passing glance.
Some I continue to know.
Many I can no longer know.
Some were taken from me.
Some chose to leave.

Others I abandoned.

Most simply faded away.

A few remain.

Of these I call to mind a few

With whom I share some memory of sound,

Or shadows reflected in a cloudy mirror.

Memories of words spoken and of songs,

And a hope of more to come.

There are friends that I have known, and

Among them I am known.

13.10.2011

2010-03-29T19:01:00.002-04:00

*Previously Published this Post, but did some editing and wanted to republish it on here.

Why do I so often find myself lapsing into these misconceptions about my walk with Christ? Thankfully God continues to move on my life and reveal Himself in new ways to me. However, I know from observing and talking with friends and fellow believers, that my misgivings and misunderstandings about God and my status in Christ are not unique to me. As Followers of Christ, many of us often make these same mistakes.

We are so practical and pragmatic. We figure it all out, only to see our calculations add up incorrectly again and again.

We try to earn God's Grace, Love, and Mercy. We trick ourselves into believing we can reason with God's will–perhaps make a compromise. We beat ourselves up after we fall, wondering what the appropriate time should be before we are worthy to approach God for forgiveness. We fail to see the folly even in thinking that some amount of penance can make us worthy to approach the Holy Presence of God. We deny the truth that God requires nothing but sincere repentance. We ignore the truth that God stands with open arms beckoning us home. We fail to grasp the fact that God chose us. We could do nothing of ourselves to move towards His righteous self. Why do we feel the intense need to insert ourselves so heavily in the story of God's grace? We have nothing to do with it besides the fact that we are the Redeemed. We are the Trash He took and transformed. Even our most holy works are filthy in comparison to His immaculate Perfection. We have taken up burdens He never meant for us to carry. We say we are free, but we're bogged down more than ever in guilt. We have mocked His sacrifice by attempting to save ourselves. We have taken the guilt of our failures and made pitiful efforts at resolution. We are too proud to admit that we can do nothing to remedy our sinful natures. We are too wise to believe that God's Grace is Free. His Love is Eternal. We are too serious to believe that He takes delight in our conversation with Him. We are so guarded that we cannot understand His emphasis on relationships. We are so busy that we fail to take the time to live out our call to follow Him. We are so skeptical that we question His motive. We are so jaded that we doubt His love. We are so advanced that we reason away His miracles. We are so comfortable that we are blinded to His blessings. We are so religious that we lose His relation. We are so dogmatic that we leave no room for His Spirit to work. We need to get back to the Heart. We need to find who we are in Him. We need to lift our eyes to Him. We must realize that He is our only Hope. He is the Essence of all Good. There is nothing of ourselves to merit salvation and the only thing we can do is fall on our knees in repentance and trust that His Word is true when He said He would forgive us. We must believe.

of an Afrikan morning

2010-03-02T00:53:00.002-05:00

Year of my Austrian Summer

2010-02-24T02:38:00.002-05:00

2010-02-24T02:17:00.000-05:00

Martin Highway

2010-02-17T01:14:00.001-05:00

Christ's Love in Rhyme and Meter

2010-01-10T09:51:00.005-05:00

These are just a few stanzas from some of the songs I love the most about Christ and His Love and Interaction with us, fallen humanity. Songs that paint pictures of Redemption and Relationship through and with our Saviour.

"The Love of God"

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above,
Would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.

O love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure
The saints’ and angels’ song.

-Frederick M. Lehman

"There is a Fountain"

E’er since, by faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.
And shall be till I die, and shall be till I die;
Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.

--William Cowper

"Arise, My Soul, Arise"

He ever lives above, for me to intercede;
His all redeeming love, His precious blood, to plead:
His blood atoned for all our race,
His blood atoned for all our race,
And sprinkles now the throne of grace.

My God is reconciled; His pardoning voice I hear;
He owns me for His child; I can no longer fear:
With confidence I now draw nigh,
With confidence I now draw nigh,
And “Father, Abba, Father,” cry.

--Charles Wesley

"In Christ Alone"

There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave He rose again
And as He stands in victory
Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me
For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt of life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From life’s first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can ever pluck me from His hand
‘til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand

--Stuart Townend

2009-10-03T17:46:00.006-04:00

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,

Thinks these dark days of autumn rain

Are beautiful as days can be;

She loves the bare, the withered tree;

She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.

She talks and I am fain to list:

She's glad the birds are gone away,

She's glad her simple worsted gray

Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,

The faded earth, the heavy sky,

The beauties she so truly sees,

She thinks I have no eye for these,

And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know

The love of bare November days

Before the coming of the snow,

But it were vain to tell her so,

And they are better for her praise.

–Robert Frost

2009-09-01T22:26:00.004-04:00

For a slight departure, a more comical post than normal. *

*at the time there was not much humor involved.

Picture it: A quiet Tuesday evening staying at Kerilyn's house while she's on vacation. I've just polished off an evening snack (the first carton ice cream I've eaten in forever), and I've decided to do something constructive, like wash laundry. So I gather up all the clothes I'd been piling in a corner of the bathroom, for want of a laundry basket, and head for the washer (which is just adjacent to the kitchen). I'm nervous.

Flashback: about 10 minutes or so earlier I'd spotted a roach–no one should question Keri's house hygiene, its swampland in Florida, and we had a hurricane like storm the night before that would make El Nino blush. The roach stood there, mocking me. Taunting me. I grabbed a cup and slowly approached it [again, please note the courage] but it slyly ran into the dark crevice beside the oven. Right beside the Laundry room. One must keep in mind for the rest of the story that I detest roaches. I fear them. They terrorize me. I have and would rather let a boa constrictor dance around my neck, then a roach get near my shoe. Its just that simple, I fear them. It stems back to my childhood when one jumped on my back, and refused to be dislodged, no matter how many laps around the house I did. It was a bad day.

Back to the Present. I decide to defy my fear and start a load of laundry with the full knowledge that the chances of the roach being in the same room with me are about 70%. I put the load in, and there out of the corner of my eye I spot it. It runs in the crack between the dryer and the wall where the Ironing board is stowed. I decide to go look for some raid. Keri either has a soft spot for insects, or is really good at hiding chemicals for when the toddlers (and occasional house-sitter) drop by. The raid is nowhere to be found. So I see the bottle of oust in the cupboard above the dryer. I begin to Oust the area into a dense fog, akin to your average New England port at dawn.

Eventually the roach ends up in a basket of crisp, clean, folded laundry Keri had left on the dryer. "Great", I think to myself. I try to fog it out with the oust, but to no avail. At last an idea strikes. Making for certain that the roach is still on the basket, with one fell swoop I grab the basket and set it outside on the air conditioner hub.

Now I can't just leave Keri's clean laundry outside to face what could become another storm gale, so I go back into the kitchen, grab a pair of tongs, find a broom, and with oust in hand head back to the battle.

Not knowing for sure if the roach has rooted deeper in the pile of clothes, I begin to deftly pick up each article of clothing (be it blouse, sundress, skirt, or shorts) with my pair of tongs and shake it with a vigorous movement until a point at which I'm certain the average roach would have lost hold. All the while bathing the clean clothes in a thick mist of oust. After each article meets my approval, I deposit it back in the house, and head out to the thick of the fight. I'm only hoping that the neighbors on campus are in bed by now, and aren't watching the man outside in the yard wildly flailing women's clothing held from the end of a pair of tongs. Finally after what seemed to be the eternal pile of clothing came to its end I grabbed the basket, gave it a few kicks with my foot, sprayed the last of the oust on it, and took it back inside. The roach had left. I had won. With a great sense of accomplishment I write these words.

I conquered the roach.

2009-08-23T23:07:00.004-04:00

I heard this song over a year ago, but recently listened to it again, and have listenend to it many times over the past couple of months. It has become one of the most powerful songs in my life. I want the last part to truly become my heart's prayer. Hope it impacts you the way it has me.

I Corinthians 3:18

Charlie Was A Fool
Did You Hear What He Went And Did?
He Quit His Job, Threw It Away
Gave His Life To A Bunch Of Kids
He Said He Was In Love With Jesus
But His Friends Didn't Understand
He Could've Had It All
But He Just Smiled And Said
That He Already Did.

He Saw The Big In The Small
He Saw The Beauty In The Call
Even When No One Else Approved
He Took The Job Only A Fool Would Do.

Sarah Was A Beauty Queen
Miss Something Or Another
She Took Off Her Crown
Rolled Up Her Sleeves
Gave Her Life In A Mission To Others
She Said She Was In Love With Jesus
But Her Friends Called Her A Fool
They Said She'd Never Find Happiness
She Just Looked At Them And Smiled
And Said She Already Did.

She Saw The Big In The Small
She Saw The Beauty In The Call
Even When No One Else Approved
She Took The Job Only A Fool Would Do.

The Way Of The World, It May Look Wise
The Way Of The Truth Is To Realize
Wisdom Will Only Come Through
To Those Who Are Only The Fool.

Show Me The Big In The Small
Show Me The Beauty In The Call
Show Me The Road That I Should Chose
I'll Take The Job Only A Fool Could Do.

Show Me The Big In The Small
Show Me The Wonder Of My Call
Even When No One Else Approves
I'll Take The Job For Only A Fool
Only A Fool, Only A Fool.

Listen to Geoff Moore's Only A Fool

2009-08-17T22:36:00.006-04:00

Adoration in the Darkness

When the Night, tossing and turning,

In its bed of velvet black,

Awakes in flashing glory

And the thunder answers back,

When the stars have gladly fallen

Down between the billowed clouds

And slept their fill, their cradles rocked

By Blowing whitened sounds.

When the sun is still afraid to rare its

Haughty head of day

And the rain is playing hide and seek

Above the rolling waves,

When the wind is singing softly in

Some mournful minor key

And an orchestra of hollow trees

Has trembled gradually,

It is now that I will still myself

And listen with my heart

To what I know I've heard before

Yet rarely taken part.

Now the thunder claps the time to

What will grow to be a song

Of Creation sounding praises

Of their God, and then the throng

That gathered here to hear it

Will cry aloud as one

Worthy is the Lamb of God

And Honor to the Son

All Power be to Him, alone,

That sits upon the throne

All Glory, His Eternal,

And His it shall remain

Forever captive in His love

And His Eternal reign.

When the song has softly faded

In the whispers of the waves

I will watch the dying darkness

And anticipate the Day,

For I know with Dawn comes Sunset

And the Dusk is sure to bring

A myriad of praises

With the night, sung to my King.

17 August 2009

Travis Shillington

Yet another one. . .

2009-08-14T03:07:00.003-04:00

Check it out.

2009-08-12T02:10:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I wish I'd have sat down more and just listened to what they had to say. Listened to their stories of growing up during WWII and what it was like to see the world then. I wish I could listen to how they felt after all of their children lived in a different country, and how they coped with life's problems over the years. I wish I could sit and ask them what their favorite memory was of their birthday, or hear my Grandma talk about her mother getting her and her sister up and dressed to watch a thunder storm in the middle of the night, just in case they would need to go somewhere safe. I wish I could listen to them laugh at each other's jokes, or hear my Grandfather's soft voice as he walked down to the basement to get the strawberry preserves out of the fridge. I wish I could hear them talk about their old dates, or say "eh?" at the end of a sentence. I would give alot to go to A&W again for a burger and root beer with them or sit in their living room and listen to stories about the Canadian prime minister from Grandpa. I wish I could look at the photographs of old family members that they missed as much as I miss them now. I wish I could hear the stories firsthand again of how the house my Grandfather was raised in burnt down after they were married. I want to see that smirk on my Grandma's face before she said something funny, or that wide toothy grin Grandpa gave her. I wish I could hear them tell them they loved us with tears in their eyes as we drove off again, most likely not to see them again for another year. I wish I could've stayed in the room longer in that cold hospital where Grandma laid dying and held her hand longer than I had. I wish I could sit on the couch with Grandpa again as he looked at a young picture of Grandma after she died, crying as he told me what a beautiful women she had been. I wish I had overcome my fear of hearing about people dying and truly showed that I cared when he became sick. I wish I hadn't masked my concern with apathy when he began to grow weaker, And I wish I had talked to him one last time before he died. . . Someday I will.

2009-08-11T00:11:00.002-04:00

I had a whole lot more to say, but don't think this is the venue, so I'll just say this.

"Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks at the Heart".

I am so tired of the energy that many around me exert in keeping up with the latest news of who is doing and wearing what these days. Who's hair recently got shorter, and who added the wedding band to their daily routine of getting dressed in the morning.

[the absurdity of the sentence above to most of the world struck me. It bothers me that this is even something I can relate to].

God help me to keep my eyes on Him, because I know I'm tempted and have been guilty of the same thing. I have so many times tried to reason my salvation based on the fact that I've earned it because of what I'm not doing. What a lie I've fallen for so many times. I pray that God will open my own eyes wider to His abounding Love and Grace, and the inner things of the Heart that He sees.

On the other side I know there is a tendency for those with more "Freedom" to label those more conservative as legalists. I just wish we could all just forget about the outside appearance and realize that Grace is a Free gift and the most we can do is give Christ our all in return as Gratitude, not payment.

Matthew 6:19-21

2009-08-04T02:08:00.004-04:00

Before this year, I can honestly say I've never missed any particular place. I have, of course, missed situations, individuals, and familiar comforts, but I cannot say I have ever longed to just exist in a certain atmosphere. That has changed. It is hard to express without coming across as sentimental or dramatic, but I truly can hardly wait for the day I return to Africa. There is something beyond even the five senses that is inexplicably captivating. It is nothing like any place in which I have ever lived. It is probably less comfortable, in many ways offering fewer amenities than to which I am accustomed. But that does not bother me, which is surprising because I admit I enjoy being comfortable. The food is different. Good in its own way, but not the way I would cook it if I were cooking it, yet I crave it. The people are Beautiful. For the most part unpretentious and unselfish. They give of themselves freely and beneath a thin exterior of formality lies a fairly unguarded heart that is raw and deep in a way most Westerners could not understand. They have dimension in an age of shallow familiarity and surface acquaintances. I wonder if I can ever allow myself to become vulnerable in that way. Respect for those who are in authority, whether you know them or not, is a way of life. Society treats those that are older as people of wisdom, not people to be shut away and forgotten. These Tannies and Ooms are not ridiculed for their older Boer ways, but appreciated for being living Icons of an Age that is fastly fading as an Era of political correctness eats away at an identity or nationalism. There is a way of life, that though dying, is still tangible and visible in the Towns. People greet each other with more than a smile and wave. There is a warmth created by interaction that cannot be duplicated through any other means of communication than raw, one on one conversation. This is what I miss. The culture that is not afraid to set aside time from their plans to truly find out how someone else is doing. A culture that forces you to forget about yourself for a few minutes and find out about the true feelings and emotions someone else is experiencing. It is by no means a Utopia. There are arguably more problems than many other places, but does that make it irredeemable? Is it beyond hope? Can people who really grow to love the country not implement change? The only change that will really transform any place is the one that has eternal significance. People filled with the Love that is God pouring their lives into people who have no true Hope is the something that cannot be underestimated. God created something unparalleled in beauty in the vast landscape of Mountains and Sea, and in the people that live their lives in and around that land. The only thing that remains is to take His Love to them through service and sacrifice. Africa does not need my American thought or my Western trained intellect. It needs the all transforming, redeeming Love of God. A love that can only truly be shared through us when God chooses to use us, and we respond by Whole heartedly giving of our life. our Soul. I can honestly say that whether or not God chooses to allow me to see Africa again, I am in the process of allowing Him to transform me into someone who is not tied to material things. I will never drive a fancy car or own a beautiful home, but I will, by God's Grace, sell my life out to doing His will and showing others His Love wherever He calls me. There will always be a part of my heart that can only be filled by Africa, and I pray I will be worthy of the Blessing of returning to this wonderful place that God has given me such a desire in which to minister. Above all I pray I never lose the fire of service or become blind to the tragedy of the American Dream and the materialism it embodies. I pray God will use me in to radically bring Glory to Him in Africa or wherever He chooses to place me. It sounds scary to say I may never have the safety and security of Home, but I could never call Home any place besides the center of God's will. I know He has called me beyond the comfort and influence of material things, and in that I have an unexplainable trust and calm. People may never understand and say I am being a bad steward by not investing my money in Wall Street or IRA's, but God has not called me to the ministry of sending workers, He has called me to do all I can to be His work. So now I can say there is a place I will always wish to return to. A place my Heart is in. A place I could one day call Home.

Romania [a memory]

2009-08-04T02:07:00.000-04:00

Antics in the Schoolyard on the Sly.

2009-07-31T12:37:00.003-04:00

"on Golden Rays of Sunlight Trod" or "Becker Farms at Dusk"

2009-03-13T01:56:00.002-04:00

2009-02-16T00:10:00.003-05:00

Images in black and white,

Sprawling skies in shades of gray.

You with me, and paper kites

Sailing high to greet the day.

Opening, the sky and clouds

Rained down around our paper kites.

We danced beneath the thundering shroud

And laughed to see the crashing lights.

Racing to the sprawling tree.

Collapsing at its solid base.

Sheltered by its thousand leaves

Casting shadows on your face.

Beneath the tree, we closed our eyes

And hoped the storm would never end.

We fell asleep beneath the sky

And woke to find the rain again.

Travis Shillington

21-4-08

Karis

2009-02-07T00:02:00.004-05:00

We did not know that you would go.
You left so suddenly.
We never dreamed that this was how
Your little life would be.

Jesus took you Home with Him.
We'll never understand.
This we know within our Hearts--
Your fingers clasp His Hand.

Today we saw the sunset glow--
The sky in purple hues.
We could not help but wonder if
A part was brushed by you.

Each stroke of pink and purple waves
Across the sunlit sky.
Was painted there by your sweet hand
As God knelt by your side.

Now though our Hearts are breaking still,
Each sky of purple hue--
We will not help but wonder if
The strokes are brushed by you.

Travis Shillington

6 February 2009

Marionette

2009-01-31T02:01:00.001-05:00

You do not Journey Alone. . . Tell you're Story

2009-01-27T11:21:00.003-05:00

For you who have ever struggled with your Faith or Doubt.

For you who have come up to the greatest battles of your Life and Lived.

For you who have slipped into Despair only to feel the Grip of God's Hand pull you back.

For you who have Fallen on your face in Sin.

For you who have been Hurt by the choices of those Around You .

Don't be afraid to share your story.

God leads us through trials for a reason. Allow Him to use your experiences to transform not only your life, but the life of another. I'm not saying we should get up in Church and shout our private matters to the congregation. I'm saying if the opportunity arrises to share your experience with another, and you feel God leading you to do so, do it. Its not easy, its not comfortable, but the impact you can have. The impact God meant for you to have, is unimaginable. You sharing your story could be the one thing that kept another Sane or began the process of Healing and Forgiveness. God may want to use You as His hand in someone's Life, and your willingness to be used could very well impact a Life- a Soul- for Eternity.

2008-12-18T17:43:00.000-05:00

2008-12-18T12:48:00.001-05:00

"The Accosting of the Night"

2008-12-18T12:16:00.002-05:00

2008-12-17T01:11:00.004-05:00

The light drifts gently through the pane,

Settling down, then out again

To touch some other soul abroad

Or perhaps return to God.

Neither you nor I can tell

From where it came or where it fell,

Yet for certain can be known,

That light has never been alone.

Traveling with it near and far

From Roman roads and distant stars

To city streets and jungles dense,

Light has always spirited

The shadow and her softened tread

Has long evoked a whispered sense

Of closeness with another world

Where Charon ferries sleeping hordes

Across the Styx and on to rest

For many a weak and weary breast.

Just as light reminds of death,

So it shows in every breath,

Illuminating signs of life

And freedom in the rite of strife

Of soldiers glistening in the field

Or off the weapons that they wield.

The gleam of light can still be seen

On faces of the young and lean

And in the eyes of those who've toiled,

Those shoving off this mortal coil

Can still be seen a twinkling beam

Of light and its vivacity.

Travis Shillington

17 December 2008

2008-12-17T01:05:00.000-05:00

the dying of daylight...

2008-12-17T00:38:00.000-05:00

2008-12-01T16:12:00.007-05:00

Perhaps that chair, when you arose and passed

Out of the room, rocked silently a while

Ere it again was still. When you were gone

Forever from the room, perhaps that chair,

Stirred by your movement rocked a little while,

Silently, to and fro...

excerpted from "Interim" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

prerequisite happenings. . .

2008-10-26T23:26:00.000-04:00

the park by the piano. . .

2008-10-18T00:52:00.003-04:00

roxbury: the way i see it

2008-10-13T23:55:00.007-04:00

2008-08-04T19:11:00.008-04:00

While recently reading my Bible, I turned to Psalm 22. I suppose most people already knew of the prophetic content regarding Christ's sacrificial death in this Psalm, but somehow the fact had eluded me. I was struck by the detail and veracity in which the writer described Christ's crucifixion. Reading on, I found, as you will if you read, that all of the prophecies in Psalm 22 were fulfilled at the crucifixion of Christ. The most interesting idea presented itself to me when I came upon verse 24:

24 For he has not despised or disdained
       the suffering of the afflicted one;
       he has not hidden his face from him
       but has listened to his cry for help.

This is intrigued me. For years I had heard that God was compelled to turn away from Christ at the point when he bore the sin of all mankind. Yet very plainly this verse negates that. I then referenced each account of Christ's death in the Gospels. Reading each account, I discovered that there was no statement implying that God had abandoned Christ. The only way would could suppose this is from the words of Christ "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?". I understand why one would draw the conclusion from this statement that God had abandoned his Son. But Psalm 22 is clear in its statement that God never abandoned his Son. Every prophecy in Psalm 22 was fulfilled. If so, then why would verse 24 not also be true? Add to that the fact that not one of the Gospel accounts state that God forsook his son. Therefore it would seem apparent that God not only was aware of Christ's turmoil and suffering, but that he was with Him during the time.

Men have tried to illustrate God's abhorrence of sin by stating that he was forced to turn His face away from Christ because of his embodiment of sin. I find that argument weak. If God is omnipotent, and omniscient, then he holds both the power over sin and is aware of its existence. To say that God, even in His holiness, could not view sin, is to admit that sin is more powerful than the Creator who allowed it to enter the world. Yes, without God's approval, sin could not exist. Many Biblical references illustrate God's knowledge and "sight" of sin. Such as the account of the Israelites worship of the golden calf in the wilderness in Exodus 32.

7 Then the LORD said to Moses, "Go down, because your people, whom you brought up out of Egypt, have become corrupt. 8 They have been quick to turn away from what I commanded them and have made themselves an idol cast in the shape of a calf. They have bowed down to it and sacrificed to it and have said, 'These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of Egypt.' 9 "I have seen these people," the LORD said to Moses, "and they are a stiff-necked people.

Job also is another book that acknowledges God's awareness and viewpoint of sin in chapter 11:

11 Surely he recognizes deceitful men;

and when he sees evil, does he not take note?

It seems Scripturally apparent that God has the capacity to view sin, and does so.

I admit that I am no theologian. I am only writing all this for veracity's sake. I believe it is incongruent with Scripture to say that God did or was forced to turn his back on Christ during the crucifixion. I leave it up to the reader to decide why Christ uttered the words found in the Gospels, and first written in Psalm 22:1. I still have not decided what I believe the reason is. If any one reading this has an opinion or explanation for this. Or believes I have misunderstood what I have read, feel free to comment.

Like I said, I do not pretend to be a theologian. I'm just thinking out loud here.

a feeling comparable to flying. . .

2008-07-30T18:31:00.009-04:00

2008-07-29T19:55:00.005-04:00

i've been experimenting with different brushes and filters...

before

after

i kind of like the ethereal mood in the second...

2008-07-28T16:35:00.000-04:00

2008-07-18T00:40:00.001-04:00

i got bored earlier tonight and came up with this...

jenny's an old friend and she and her fiance are getting married

next summer.

i took these pictures of them in pennsylvania in april.

2008-07-14T01:37:00.000-04:00

a place exists within this sphere
a place quite minute, yet severe
where sea meets sky and both converse
in languages of rhyme and verse

where whispers taunt the soul to try
to sail against an azure sky,
and sailing there, attempt to find
the soul and mien of Gods own mind.

yet not so boldly would one dare
to venture out against the air
of that so great a space so vast
containing secrets of the past-

so threatening a place that God
felt safe to hide his golden rod
that with a flash created dawn
from whence descended every pawn.

yet if a daring souls should still
be fool enough to chance the will
of his creator while he seek
the treasure of infinite,

the fool will find what all before
have found when venturing out that shore,
the key to Gods eternity
cannot be found by you or me.

Travis Shillington

13 July 2008

a compilation of photos i took in great britain

2008-07-11T22:21:00.003-04:00

2008-05-28T00:35:00.002-04:00

my new adobe software is finally being utilized.

the above is a picture i took and messed around

with on photoshop.

to my mother...

2008-05-11T02:06:00.005-04:00

A mother holds her infant son,
And dreams of what he might become,
Content to, with her finger, trace
The lines and features of his face.

And as he grows, through window panes
She watches him, and call his name
Softly to herself and sees
All the things that he might be.

Every task that she performed,
All the sacrifice--and more,
Thinking no one knew she'd done
Still he knew of every one.

Every one he still recalled
And wondered at the joy in all
The time she spent to show him what
It means to know that you are loved.

And when he feels he's let her down
It pains him to remember how
She gently rocked his form to sleep,
Content to dream of who he'd be.

So moments when they disagree
Fly away so fleetingly,
And every day builds strong the love
For a Mother from above.

Travis Shillington
11 May 2008

a li'l bit more o' england. . . york

2008-04-30T18:40:00.019-04:00

the walled city of york
[and stephanie, who was in front of me].

2008-04-25T00:55:00.003-04:00

to be that thin again!

ha. i'd been sick for at least 10 days straight
[result of bad water i'd drank in romania].
really sick. it was apparent by my emaciated state.

i was virtually swimming in a shirt that i probably
shouldn't be wearing right now. :D

it took about three whole weeks to fill out again. :(
oh well.
here's to the treadmill.

2008-04-22T00:13:00.003-04:00

"Upon Contemplating Darfur"

Mothers watch their children die,
Rocking them to sleep.
Broken down by fear and shame,
Hopelessly they weep.

Orphans starve for food and love,
Ignorant of peace.
Innocence was never theirs’
As horrors never cease.

Brothers watch as Sisters’ souls
Are stolen in the night.
Blinding tears and buried prayers.
Wounded doves in flight.

Reeling from the terrible truth.
Straining just to see
Why these people struggle so-
Fighting just to be.

22 April 2008
Travis Shillington

the third psalm...

2008-04-19T00:51:00.002-04:00

LORD, how are they increased that trouble me! many are they that rise up against me.
Many there be which say of my soul, There is no help for him in God. Selah.
But thou, O LORD, art a shield for me; my glory, and the lifter up of mine head.
I cried unto the LORD with my voice, and he heard me out of his holy hill. Selah.
I laid me down and slept; I awaked; for the LORD sustained me.
I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people, that have set themselves against me round about. Arise, O LORD; save me, O my God: for thou hast smitten all mine enemies upon the cheek bone; thou hast broken the teeth of the ungodly.
Salvation belongeth unto the LORD: thy blessing is upon thy people. Selah.

a lazy sunday afternoon. . .

2008-04-06T15:50:00.007-04:00

where tales are born...

2008-04-01T21:57:00.005-04:00

2008-03-25T22:48:00.003-04:00

I have a new post on my alternative blog.

"The Orchard"

2008-03-09T00:07:00.006-05:00

An orchard full of Apple trees
And rising fog surrounded me,
While effervescent silence pressed
My mortal soul outside my chest.
And from the pressing I could feel
The turn of Time's eternal wheel.
And in that moment, knowing all
Of birth and death, a misty pall
Of darkness stretched across the sky--
A flash--and then the raspy sigh
As good and evil, love and lust
Returned to Earth as dust to dust,
And all of Time's humanity
Became my own vivacity.
Alone was mine the hurt and pain--
Alone was mine the love, and then
The sky became a flashing red
As all the Earth returned her dead.
There I fell prostrate by the trees
As all of Man's eternity
Was wrenched from out my burning chest
And breathed again in every breast
The life of new morality
That for a time had lived in me.
The mist rolled back, and there the sky
Shined brilliantly again--and I,
A mortal--rose to walk between
An orchard and its Apple trees.

Travis Shillington
19-11-07

A Brother's Perspective on Literature.

2008-02-18T22:29:00.004-05:00

I've decided to add a page for only poetry and literature. Mostly highlighting favorite poems and works of literature that I am familiar with. Perhaps sometimes commenting on it. Just the view of literature from your average eighteen year old.

You can access it under the listing "alternatives" on this page.

the Postal Service

2008-02-09T16:00:00.001-05:00

Happy Birthday...

2008-01-30T23:33:00.001-05:00

Sixty-Five years ago today, my grandma was born.
I figure you can still remember someone's birthday after they've passed away.
30 January is alot more pleasant than 6 March in my book.

My grandma taught me so much through her actions.

She showed me what inner beauty was, and she was the most beautiful lady I've ever known or hope to know. She showed me who Jesus was, and what it meant to literally walk and talk with Him. She showed me what true love was. She showed me that the greatest sense of joy comes from selfless giving. She showed me what it meant to sing. Sing from the soul. She showed me what a smile is. She showed me what it meant to live.

Since I really do not know what to say to express how much she meant to me, I'll just give a quote from an article a good friend of mine wrote that included a reference to her and what she meant to those that knew her.

"I think of Dorcas Myers, a dear friend, a loving mother and a cherished grandmother. A lady whose smile could light up any room and who always made you feel like you were the most important person in the room. I can still see that smile looking through her screen door as she would wave to me. Dorcas Myers never made the cover of Vogue, she was never on David Letterman or recognized by the President, but she lived a life greater than herself. She lived a life for others and the fruit of her sacrificial spirit is daily seen in the life of her daughter, Mrs. Lenita."
--Jeremy Howard

Someday she'll show me what Heaven is.
Happy Birthday Grandma.

and then she was twenty...

2008-01-21T21:44:00.001-05:00

my good friend jenny howard turned twenty last week.

it was also her boyfriend's [robert] birthday.

there were gifts...

candles

...and cake.

there were party goers...

...and parents.

congratulations and salutations were exchanged...

...and she was happy.

2008-01-14T23:19:00.000-05:00

"Reminisce"

I wished last night I could escape
Into the years before,
Without the pain of loss and want
That brought me where I am.

To go beyond the yesterdays,
That curse my memories,
To go before the vigils of
The ones I loved occurred.

To reminisce of normal times,
Without the days of grief,
A luxury afforded not
Where sanity prevails.

I wished last night I could escape
Into the years before,
A childish thought, to hope so high,
For what I cannot have.

Travis Shillington
10-16-06

2008-01-06T13:10:00.001-05:00

I wish that I could fly to where
The oceans meet the seas;
Where tides chime low the time of day,--
Yet wings can't carry me
To where the tides chime low the time;
Where oceans meet the seas.

I wish that I could harness hate,
And lock it in a chest.
Set peace aflame 'till every heart
Burned love within his breast,--
Yet flaming peace cannot burn love,
For hate's not in a chest.

I wish that I could blank the books
Of man's eternal grief;
Blot out the marks of joy removed,--
Bring finite man relief.
Yet I cannot blot out the marks
Of man's eternal grief.

I wish my pen could point to it,
And write where love began;
Or gently with my finger trace
God's face upon the sand.
Yet pen can't write, nor finger trace
The place where love began.

Travis Shillington
28-4-07

2008-01-01T23:59:00.000-05:00

"Of Good and of Evil"

Mary Katherine and myself
Went wandering by the sea.
Lonely drifters dredged upon
This shore of Normalcy.

Nothing--save the sailing stars
Reflecting in her eyes--
Guided us, two independents,
Joined for a time.

Mary Katherine spoke of places
I could never know:
Lands where only dreamers and
The innocent may go.

Singing songs and telling tales
No mortal soul can tell,
Mary Katherine knows the tongues
Of Heaven and of Hell.

Mary Katherine left me at
The dawning of the day,
Yet not before she told me where
That fateful garden lay.

As I travel, seeking for
That one eternal tree,
Mary Katherine waltzes in
And out of Normalcy.

Travis Shillington
2-1-08

Christmas Highlights...

2007-12-25T22:45:00.000-05:00

Yes. I got the complete collection. Nothing short of quietly ecstatic here. Nick, Nora, and I will be spending some quality time together here soon.

I also received a collection of greta garbo greats.
She's not too shabby. No.

brianna

2007-12-15T20:32:00.001-05:00

i like this picture of her

2007-12-11T20:55:00.000-05:00

The angel in my music box
Visited last night--
Kissed my cheek and danced with me
Until the dawning light.

The angel wore a satin gown--
Softly sang to me
Smelled of roses--felt like rain.
I closed my eyes to see.

I must go to my music box
Said she to me at last.
Tomorrow night she'll come again,
But until then--the past.

Travis Shillington
31-10-06

Snapshots from the Olde Country

2007-12-09T00:06:00.001-05:00

in the village of epworth

cemetery outside chapel in ewporth

same cemetery...slightly different vantage point

wales and myself got along pretty swell...

2007-11-04T23:58:00.001-05:00

Broken lines of silence creep,--
Winding through my head;
Memories and Coffee steep,--
Would to God that I might sleep;
Lose your haunting scent and keep
Redemption in my bed.

Breathing in your toxic spell
May yet murder me;
Burnt cigarettes and Time will tell,--
And the tolling of the bell
Announcing one more soul who fell
Into Eternity.

Travis Shillington
2-8-07

An amber field of barley blew

2007-05-25T21:21:00.001-04:00

An amber field of barley blew,
And in that field I thought of you.
I thought of you, and as I lay,
The barley brushed my tears away.

I climbed a sprawling sycamore
To watch a bird, and wished to soar
As high as it, so I could see
Your face outside my memory.

Inside a dim lit sepulchre
I scraped away the mounded earth
That held your form, which clasped my heart
That died when we were torn apart.

I took you from that eerily
Familiar tomb, and past the tree
That led to where an amber field
Had long, my sorrows, all concealed.

Your lifeless body came to rest
Against my barely breathing chest;
And as I died I thought of you--
Around us amber barley blew.

Travis Shillington
17-5-07