a Prodigal's song as sung by Another.

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.

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

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

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.

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

Thoughts on Friends that I have Known.

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

*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

Year of my Austrian Summer

Martin Highway

Christ's Love in Rhyme and Meter

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

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

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.

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

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. . .

Check it out.

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. 

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.