Aluminum foil our plates, fingers our utensils, and fire-roasted meat, potatoes, carrots and onions. Lawn chairs, tree stumps, and logs pulled close to the crackling warmth of a campfire. Shadows cast from the flames dancing against the thick woods coiling all around. Bright stars and moon sneaking through gaps in the autumn leaves. Homework left at school, cellphones without service, and the fast pace of civilized life put on hold. Seventeen grad and undergrad college students, men and nature coming together for fellowship.
Life goals, one by one, given words and thrown into the space between us brothers where flames lick and whip and point upwards:
"to graduate"
"to work with youth"
"to run a marathon"
"to be a good husband"
"to get into a good Grad school"
"to run a godly youth ministry"
"to complete a triathlon"
"to be a good father"
"to travel the world"
"to be a foster parent"
"to hike the Appalachian Trail"
"to provide for my family"
...
"to die empty"
All possessions, all ambitions, all emotions--everything poured out.
Everyone quiet, reflective, staring into a pit of now only ashes. And a silence occupying the space previously filled with words and words and so many words.
"to die empty"
Charity: Water
Showing posts with label Future. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Future. Show all posts
Monday, October 25, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Salat-l-Istikhara
"Oh Allah! I seek Your guidance by virtue of Your knowledge, and I seek ability by virtue of Your power, and I ask You of Your great bounty. You have power; I have none. And You know; I know not. You are the Knower of hidden things.
"Oh Allah! If in Your knowledge, this matter is good for my religion, my livelihood and my affairs, immediate and in the future, then ordain it for me, make it easy for me, and bless it for me. And if in Your knowledge, this matter is bad for my religion, my livelihood and my affairs, immediate and in the future, then turn it away from me, and turn me away from it. And ordain for me the good wherever it may be, and make me content with it."
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
A Birthday Prayer
Ephesians 3:20-21
Every once in a while, I'll write something down on paper because I feel like it's too intense or too emotional or too personal for the blog. Today, I was reading back through some of those writings, and I found a prayer that I had written while in a lot of anguish. I know, "anguish" is quite a dramatic word, but that's the place where I was. Long story short, God's answering my prayer in BIG ways. It is kind of intense so I'll only post an excerpt and edit some of it, but I wanted to post what I had written because God has answered this prayer far beyond what I even imagined, and so I pray it be a testimony to where God takes us when we cry out to Him/Her.
"Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all we can ask or think, according to the power that works in us, unto God be all glory in the church and in Christ Jesus unto all generations for ever and ever"
Every once in a while, I'll write something down on paper because I feel like it's too intense or too emotional or too personal for the blog. Today, I was reading back through some of those writings, and I found a prayer that I had written while in a lot of anguish. I know, "anguish" is quite a dramatic word, but that's the place where I was. Long story short, God's answering my prayer in BIG ways. It is kind of intense so I'll only post an excerpt and edit some of it, but I wanted to post what I had written because God has answered this prayer far beyond what I even imagined, and so I pray it be a testimony to where God takes us when we cry out to Him/Her.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Just Keep Swimming
About a month ago, I had this dream. It was at least a whole month ago, and I still find myself thinking about it from time to time. It hasn't been one of those recurring dreams, but sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night, it's all I think about:
I'm swimming. Not quickly, not frantically; slowly, calmly, yet deliberately. I'm in an ocean--infinite dark water behind me, infinite dark water beneath me, infinite dark water on both sides of me, infinite dark water in front of me. It's not cold or hot, but cool, refreshing. I'm naked, but unaware of the fact. The ocean's salty waves subtly pulse against me and lap against my lips as I continue swimming forward. It's nighttime, that time of night when the moon has already peaked but, crowding the sky, begins its slow drift back downwards. It's a crisp night with a few stray, wispy clouds beneath the millions of stars that freckle the sky. The cycle of time stops, and the heavens stay this way. It's always been like this--that time between midnight and daybreak, that still and quiet time. I'm alone and swimming, and that's the way it's always been. I've never stopped swimming. But I'm not tired, and I'm not thirsty. I'm neither excited nor sad. I'm relaxed and comfortable yet focused. Ahead of me, infinite miles beyond the dark water, I can barely make out the blackish green island of land, erratic pin-pricks of light evidencing the life that exists there. I don't know why or what it is, but something internal propels me to continue moving until I reach this land. I have no clue what it is I'm swimming to, but I know it's good, I know it's worth it, and I know how to get there--keep swimming forward. From out of nowhere, my family swims up beside me. I look to my sides and watch my parents and my brothers. They don't speak to me, and they don't look at me. They just swim with me. All of us, at our casual pace, swim forward together in silence toward this distant land. I'm unaware of how long this lasts, but eventually, I realize I'm swimming alone again. I'm relaxed and comfortable yet focused. The light from the moon and stars dance across the rippling ocean, making the waters glisten. And I keep swimming forward toward the lights of the faraway land that I almost can't see. At some point, I look to my sides and see all my best friends from the youth group swimming with me. I look at each of them in turn before facing the front again; no one looks at me and no one talks. We're all swimming together, always forward, always toward the land up ahead. Eventually, I look around and realize I'm swimming alone again. I'm relaxed and comfortable yet focused. And I just keep swimming. This process continues over and over in waves. Mentors and role models, friends from high school and church and college, all the girlfriends I've had, the few I've called my best friends, and finally, a few people I've never seen before: they all appear, swim silently with me for a period, then leave me by myself again. Eventually, the waves of people stop. Aware of the cool wind stroking my face, the soothing waters enveloping my body, the heavens faintly lighting my world--I calmly keep swimming. Always swimming. Never worried or tired or sad or lonely. Just swimming. Always forward. Always toward the unknown land barely visible ahead. I have no clue what it is I'm swimming to, but I know it's good, I know it's worth it, and I know how to get there--keep swimming forward.
I'm swimming. Not quickly, not frantically; slowly, calmly, yet deliberately. I'm in an ocean--infinite dark water behind me, infinite dark water beneath me, infinite dark water on both sides of me, infinite dark water in front of me. It's not cold or hot, but cool, refreshing. I'm naked, but unaware of the fact. The ocean's salty waves subtly pulse against me and lap against my lips as I continue swimming forward. It's nighttime, that time of night when the moon has already peaked but, crowding the sky, begins its slow drift back downwards. It's a crisp night with a few stray, wispy clouds beneath the millions of stars that freckle the sky. The cycle of time stops, and the heavens stay this way. It's always been like this--that time between midnight and daybreak, that still and quiet time. I'm alone and swimming, and that's the way it's always been. I've never stopped swimming. But I'm not tired, and I'm not thirsty. I'm neither excited nor sad. I'm relaxed and comfortable yet focused. Ahead of me, infinite miles beyond the dark water, I can barely make out the blackish green island of land, erratic pin-pricks of light evidencing the life that exists there. I don't know why or what it is, but something internal propels me to continue moving until I reach this land. I have no clue what it is I'm swimming to, but I know it's good, I know it's worth it, and I know how to get there--keep swimming forward. From out of nowhere, my family swims up beside me. I look to my sides and watch my parents and my brothers. They don't speak to me, and they don't look at me. They just swim with me. All of us, at our casual pace, swim forward together in silence toward this distant land. I'm unaware of how long this lasts, but eventually, I realize I'm swimming alone again. I'm relaxed and comfortable yet focused. The light from the moon and stars dance across the rippling ocean, making the waters glisten. And I keep swimming forward toward the lights of the faraway land that I almost can't see. At some point, I look to my sides and see all my best friends from the youth group swimming with me. I look at each of them in turn before facing the front again; no one looks at me and no one talks. We're all swimming together, always forward, always toward the land up ahead. Eventually, I look around and realize I'm swimming alone again. I'm relaxed and comfortable yet focused. And I just keep swimming. This process continues over and over in waves. Mentors and role models, friends from high school and church and college, all the girlfriends I've had, the few I've called my best friends, and finally, a few people I've never seen before: they all appear, swim silently with me for a period, then leave me by myself again. Eventually, the waves of people stop. Aware of the cool wind stroking my face, the soothing waters enveloping my body, the heavens faintly lighting my world--I calmly keep swimming. Always swimming. Never worried or tired or sad or lonely. Just swimming. Always forward. Always toward the unknown land barely visible ahead. I have no clue what it is I'm swimming to, but I know it's good, I know it's worth it, and I know how to get there--keep swimming forward.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Random Thoughts
thought 4: I've realized something about myself: I'm a pretty ridiculous person. I am entirely way too dependent on grades. I almost died when I thought I was going to make a "B" in a class I've worked my butt off in (an ungrounded fear I soon discovered). I'm also way too dependent on what people think about me. I can't even sleep at night if I think someone has a problem with me; I have to have everyone be okay with me, and in the end, that's just not feasible. And I'm way too dependent on what I can see. If I can't see it, it's really hard for me to trust that God can. Like the future. Those things are difficult for me to trust God with, because I'm constantly combating this "I have to know!" mentality. I guess all of it is ultimately a control thing...
thought 1: I don't know what the big fuss is concerning "Redeeming Love." I swear I've heard over and over about how wonderful that book is, it'll teach you how to really love someone, it's the perfect picture of God's love for us, ... I'm just a little into it, but I keep having to repress the urge to gag. It's obvious the author is working her ass off trying evoke some deep, emotional response from me, and frankly, I refuse to give it to her. At least for now, because the story is oh so predictable and cheesy. I mean, I guess it's beautiful and all, but it's also really sappy (I think the novel would be a great soap opera actually). I simply refuse to be emotional for its own sake, so hopefully the story will pick up and do something else for me. I guess I'm also not a huge fan of the metaphor for sinful, disobedient humanity being an adulterous woman and loving, redeeming God being a man. But that's probably just the feminist in me brought out from working with people like Liz, Carrie, and Collyn in the Writing Center ("Den of Prosperity").
thought 3: I just got back home from good ol' Gardner-Webb. I'm already counting the days till I go back, and I already freaking miss everyone there--some more than others, obviously. Geeze.
thought 2: I'm slightly perturbed that as soon as the homework, reading, studying, and exams end and I actually have time to blog, I really don't have much to say; that the times when I'm stressed-out-of-my-mind-I'm-so-busy, those are the times when I have things to say. That is just silly. Since I have no more thoughts of my own, I'll voice someone else's:
"On that night nothing is ever the same again. Once you've seen him in a stable you can never be sure where he will appear, or to what lengths he will go, or to what ludicrous depths of self-humiliation he will descend in his wild pursuit of man.
If holiness and the awful power and majesty of God were present in this least auspicious of all events, this birth of a peasant's child, then there is no place or time so lowly and earthbound but that holiness can be there too."
-Frederick Buechner
thought 1: I don't know what the big fuss is concerning "Redeeming Love." I swear I've heard over and over about how wonderful that book is, it'll teach you how to really love someone, it's the perfect picture of God's love for us, ... I'm just a little into it, but I keep having to repress the urge to gag. It's obvious the author is working her ass off trying evoke some deep, emotional response from me, and frankly, I refuse to give it to her. At least for now, because the story is oh so predictable and cheesy. I mean, I guess it's beautiful and all, but it's also really sappy (I think the novel would be a great soap opera actually). I simply refuse to be emotional for its own sake, so hopefully the story will pick up and do something else for me. I guess I'm also not a huge fan of the metaphor for sinful, disobedient humanity being an adulterous woman and loving, redeeming God being a man. But that's probably just the feminist in me brought out from working with people like Liz, Carrie, and Collyn in the Writing Center ("Den of Prosperity").
thought 3: I just got back home from good ol' Gardner-Webb. I'm already counting the days till I go back, and I already freaking miss everyone there--some more than others, obviously. Geeze.
thought 2: I'm slightly perturbed that as soon as the homework, reading, studying, and exams end and I actually have time to blog, I really don't have much to say; that the times when I'm stressed-out-of-my-mind-I'm-so-busy, those are the times when I have things to say. That is just silly. Since I have no more thoughts of my own, I'll voice someone else's:
"On that night nothing is ever the same again. Once you've seen him in a stable you can never be sure where he will appear, or to what lengths he will go, or to what ludicrous depths of self-humiliation he will descend in his wild pursuit of man.
If holiness and the awful power and majesty of God were present in this least auspicious of all events, this birth of a peasant's child, then there is no place or time so lowly and earthbound but that holiness can be there too."
-Frederick Buechner
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