Spiritual Puberty

I'm going through a growth spurt. And I didn't see it coming. I feel like an awkward, gangly, overly aware teenager who's trying to figure out how to manage all of these new changes. I'm going to call this phase of my life - bear with me now - 'spiritual puberty'. In the same way that the body decides to go through this process whenever it's ready, I think that God decided that I was ready. And as it goes, I've gone through more spiritual changes in the last 3 months than I thought possible in that amount of time. And while I'm more than thankful to be in this transition period, I'm also exhausted from all the change. The world looks different. I look different. I feel different.

I am well aware of the fact that growth and change are life-long processes. We grow in different ways at different points in our lives, and many times we don't even notice the change until it's already happened. Yet I'm just now beginning to realize that at some point, successful growth requires some pruning; cutting away dead areas so that new life can flourish. And proper pruning requires discernment, which means listening to the gardener who has the better perspective on what's really going on in this intricate, interwoven bush we call a life. Often we are being instructed on how to prune - sometimes in small ways (little branches here and there), but sometimes in scary ways that don't always make sense at first (usually these are the big dead branches that you've become so accustomed to that you don't know what life will look like without them there and are often reluctant to get rid of).

Pruning requires a willingness to let go; to trust that what we've been strongly suggested to cut off is really for our benefit - in order that we may do what we were originally created to do: bear fruit.

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me." John 15:1-4


Sidenote: I've also started a new blog. Not abandoning this one, but definitely enjoying the creative options that Tumblr has to offer.


"Anything that's not growing is dead"
-Lauryn Hill

November 1, 2010

Today is November 1, 2010. On this day, the San Francisco Giants won the world series for the first time in 56 years. I know this because I received a phone call from my godfather after class tonight informing me of this most blessed of events. It's been his team since, well, forever. I think he called me thinking that I knew Tim Lincecum as a friend- I don't really - I just happened to work in the training room at UW while he played there and would pop in every once in a while. To be honest, I probably couldn't pick him out on a busy street. But it was from this phone call that I was also reminded that today (All Saints Day) is special for another reason: 25 years ago this same godfather witnessed (and participated in) my baptism. (See above picture: from Left to Right, Mike (aforementioned godfather), Mom, me, Carol (godmother), Dad)

Some might not consider infant baptism to be a true marker of one's Christian faith. Whether it is or it isn't, I don't believe that God only works within the bounds of Christian confession. And one thing I know for sure is that God has been patient. Loving and patient, beckoning me closer, into deeper intimacy with 'Him'. Sometimes I catch glimpses of how truly remarkable His love is and am completely overwhelmed with awe and thankfulness. Writing seems to be the only way to keep up with the emotions that spill over and onto paper. Perhaps this prayer will resonate within you also.

Give me fresh eyes, God
and soften my heart
For I am so often blind
to what I do.
Teach me to rejoice in you
with everything I do.
Let all of my actions be
testimony to your loving kindness.

You, oh God, are good.
Help me to see
the needs of others.
Help me to love
as you have loved me.

Mold me into the shape of an arrow,
pointing directly to you.
Pointing to your love, mercy, justice, and peace.
God, you are so good.
Teach me to do your will
and to trust you with every step.

Be clear, Lord.
I ask that you speak clearly.
Open my eyes to everything.
Transform me from every
fiber of my being.
Every cell, every molecule;
May it sing your praises.

Overflowing with Thankfulness

So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. (Colossians 2:6-7)

It has come to my awareness recently that I don't give thanks for the blessings in my life nearly enough, be them small or large, mundane or obscure. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer so eloquently put it in his book 'Life Together',

"We prevent God from giving us the great spiritual gifts He has in store for us, because we do not give thanks for daily gifts. We think we dare not be satisfied with the small measure of spiritual knowledge, experience, and love that has been given to us, and that we must constantly be looking forward eagerly for the highest good. Then we deplore the fact that we lack the deep certainty, the strong faith, and the rich experience that God has given to others, and we consider this lament to be pious. We pray for the big things and forget to give thanks for the ordinary, small (and yet really not small) gifts.

How can God entrust great things to one who will not thankfully receive from Him the little things?"

Let us remember that we are perfectly provided and cared for by a good and perfect provider. I'll at least be working on it...

Movie Recommendation

"Lord, Save us from Your Followers"

A well balanced look at the clash of Christianity and Culture today, which encourages us to stop arguing and start conversing. To stop judging and start loving for no other reason than because we are all in the same boat.

Netflix has it on instant watch at the moment, so get it while it's hot!

March 30, 2009

I wrote this poem over a year ago and just found it in the back of an old journal.


I'm still waiting, God
for your clarity
For your life-giving source to
lay bare to me
For time and time again I try and fail
to see the depths of your strength prevail
It's not you I seem to see,
It's me, disillusioned
thinking it's all about me.

But try I do, and fail I will
yet you will stand, a chief to hail,
To bow, to sigh, to curl up nigh
You are there to listen to me
as I sit and wait in agony.
"I'm here, Lord! Fill me full!" say I in truth-
and truth be told,
"Fill me, fill me, evermore!"
I sing, I cry, I longingly implore

But try I do and fail I will
And you will be there to raise me up,
To lift me in my weakness still
To bringing justice, a foolishness it seems.
Yet you, the God of mercy.
the God of glory.
the God of weakness.
and the God of Love.
Sitting there on throne, smiling from Above.

Running Thoughts

Just as soon as one moment can occur, another moment can occur.

Just as soon as one moment can occur, it can die.

We have choices in each moment. To choose one thing over the other. Most of the time we're tied to the illusion that we are obliged to someone or something- or really just tied to an illusion in itself. But in reality, each moment is an opportunity for something bigger than a person's obligation to anyone or anything or any illusion of what is, was, or could be.

Each of us has more opportunities than we often like to think we're responsible for to create. And it IS scary when we look at our power in the face. When we see it's potential for anything under the sun. But I also recognize that in each moment I/we have the opportunity to create something bigger than our selfish desires. We have the opportunity to Love. Unconditionally.

This has been something on my mind for a while. Something I've given great heed to. Something I've put a lot of pressure on-- perhaps too much pressure. Because I am increasingly aware of the power of my choices. How they affect me, how they affect others. And there is no way skirting around this. My choices- IN EACH AND EVERY MOMENT- have consequences. It's hard to let go of the instinct, the urge to make a selfish choice, simply because it's familiar, or because it serves the ego that I've fed for so long. I wonder if I get out of my head so much- and stop judging myself for every choice I make- if I'll be able to sit at peace with my broken self and allow myself to listen to the voice that I know to be true and life-giving. If I'll finally allow myself to move forward. Step by tiny step. Out of fear of the great unknown and into trust that all will be well- including the creation I was made so beautifully to be.

Whoever you are, I ask for your prayers as I journey. Out of the illusions and images I have created for myself and others and into peace in letting go. Letting go. I ask for prayers that I might be increasingly aware that my breath is my reminder that I am here NOW. Not yesterday, not tomorrow, not 2 minutes from now. Because my heart can only beat with the pulse that God has provided in the moment that I am living.

A few things I love:

1. Indiana license plates (not joking; of all 50, its by far my fave)
2. Sarah Silverman's humor
3. Trashy electronic pop songs (i.e. Tik Tok, Party in the USA) and legitimately dancing to them in my car... alone or with company
4. Sunny days
5. The fact that you (yes, YOU!) have complete control over what picture comes up on my phone when you call me. Just change your gmail profile picture and Voa-la!

Boundaries

Boundaries are hard, especially in the midst of healing. I'm trying to learn them and stick to them, but I have to get past trying to take care of people's feelings all the time. It's SO hard. "No" and "Stop" without explaining myself might be the biggest challenge ever, but from now on it is on my list of things to work on. 2010 is going to be a challenging year. Scratch that. Life is going to be challenging, but I wouldn't have it any other way: growth and life are synonymous. And just like a tree, growth means that roots get deeper, branches get larger, and seeds spread more abundantly and further. Here we go...

The Holden Prayer

O God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannon see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown. Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

POETRY SLAMALICIOUS

I just performed my first act of spoken word. Spoken poetry. Life... or so it feels right now. It was AWESOME. Granted, I did attempt to break the ice (more for myself than the crowd) with a Laffy Taffy joke straight from the wrapper. Wanna hear it? OK. (it'll be like I'm taking you through the whole experience!) "What street does a ghost live on?" Anyone? Anyone? "A dead END!"--- "an 8 year old probably wrote that" (I actually said that).

But yeah! It was awesome! And I got some good feedback from my friend Nathan and had some other randoms offer praise and/or shots of Jägermeister! Wooo! (can you tell I'm pumped?). But it really did feel so good- especially that it was well received by at least 2 people. And get this: I was told I was a "strong reader" for probably-- no, scratch that-- DEFINITELY the first time in my life. Awesome! Perhaps the difference lays in reading my own words, or perhaps simply the fact that I knew these words were performable while I was writing them.

What are they, you ask? You'll have to come and see! As a result of a positive experience on stage (with much thanks to the love and support of my friend Lindsey) I declare that I WILL-- I repeat -- I WILL be pursuing spoken word open mic nights opportunities more often. Plus, I don't know if they're nearly as good when not performed.

ALSO tonight I got to experience the glitz and glamour-- oh wait. Make that raw and honest talent of two incredible slam poets, Amy Everhart and 'Lucky' Sevan Boult. OMG. So awesome. Neither local; both influential. Both ROCKING MY LITERARILY LINGUISTIC WORLD. "SAY WHAT!?!!"

Next week Karen Finneyfrock will be at The Round at the Fremont Abbey. Be there. She will set your brain loose in ways you never imagined possible, such that you will be spitting rhymes in your sleep and wake up with words in your vocabulary that you didn't realize you knew. She also sells socks with "Finneyfrock" racing down the sides. You want them.

I should go into promotions. Or PR? But I am honestly so impressed with these people and hope to learn so much more from them in time.

That's all I've got. "Good night, Seattle!" (ahem- good night, world!)

Easter Vigil

Easter was a party. And perhaps the best party I've been to in a long, long while.

This picture sums the night up pretty well. If you missed it, better luck next year. And I can guarentee that you won't find Jesus' resurrection celebrated any better than dinner with live music, a DJ and a VJ (Video Jockey) rocking the dance party all night long, and lots and lots of incredibly fun people. Like I said. Next year, its on... AGAIN. (Don't miss it)

Trifecta

The Trifecta of my being
is turbulent and tumultuous.
Riddled with the gurneys
of Heartcraft and War,
Glorified tenure, and
Ratified consciousness of bliss until
Finally I trespass into
a fortified sense of self.

Aim and redirect the
Fountains of glory
until only fantasy exists
and pleasure remains.

It's here that evasiveness
tricks the Impressionable and
Innocent heart.

It's not fair, this sinister smile,
This amicable naivety.
But tell me more...
I'm listening.

Fantastical

I want to be where astronauts can fly and fairy's can't get me.
Where trees frolic in the deserts of Katan
And oceans float amongst the seas.

Tell me in that deep, brazen voice of yours where I might find such a place.
Tell me where such things exist, and I will show you some secrets of my own.

Allow me to take you into the deepest pits
And the shallowest of hearts
And there you will see me fighting for survival.

I want unicorns. And Captain Planet.

Poison

In the feathers of my sleep
I wait for you to awaken me.
To draw my eyes open
And long to breathe the breath I breathe.
Because the breath I breathe is like a drug.
The breath I breathe, though, is poison.

I breathe to allow the sick in
To rot my aching bones.
I breathe to blow chaos across the room
While you sit there,
Patiently waiting for me to be though.

In the tandemness of life and death
You ply with me.
But your cry for me has become mute.
You're yell become muddled
Because in my free will
I choose death over life.

Time. After. Fucking. Time.

But it feels so good.
(Why does it feel so good?)
Don't give up on me. I'll try harder.
In the least, I'll try to try harder.

Ha.

Asking for forgiveness this time
seems like a slap in the face.
But please,
Forgive me.

Confident Woman

"Confident Woman" is a part I play-
a character at her best.

"Confident Woman" is the one
who struts so that everybody knows
not to mess with this one.

So that everybody knows
that she's not worth their time

So that everybody thinks
that she's got it together.

But Really---
most of the time,

"confident woman" is just as scared
as the rest.

2 Questions from the Shower

To questions that I'm currently asking myself:

1. What purpose does God serve in my life? Do I use God as a crutch or as a my compass?

2. Do I Use God or do I Love God?

Neither questions at this point have exclusive one-or-the-other answers. Just a pondering. Any thoughts? Insights? Additions?

Beautiful Tension

In death there is life.
In brokenness there is beauty.
In doubt there is faith.

In this moment there is Grace
And we are freed, once again, to live.
Praise be to the Lord, our God.

Amen.

untitled

I wonder why sometimes I keep going back to the things that are clearly unhealthy for me, in hope that, each time, the fresh interaction will produce a more positive result than the last time. Is masochism inherent in all of us, or is it just me??

Side-profile-Note

P.S. I was just looking at my Blogspot profile and noticed that I had put my occupation down as "In transition". Not sure when exactly I wrote that, but I think after I graduated from college 3 years ago... and it's still true. I wonder if I'll always be in transition, or if someday settling down a bit will be in the cards for me. Or whether I would go crazy in the same place for a long time. Oh, and did I mention that I've moved 5 times in the past year? Yeah. 'In Transition" does, indeed, continue to be appropriate.

Ash Wednesday. Lent. Holy Lent.

Church of the Apostles rocks my face off- and I always seem to forget that until the next time that I actually go back.

Tonight was a wonderful Ash Wednesday service, complete with a calling to reflection, forehead markings of ash crosses reminding us that we come from dust-- and it is to dust that we shall return, and communion; which seemed to bring it all together for me mysteriously. I say mysterious because communion doesn't often do much for me. I reflect; I pray; I try to grasp the meaning in what I'm doing. But more times than not, I don't understand at all what it all actually means. Tonight was different. I'm not sure what it was about the service- perhaps the additional promotion for reflection; perhaps the somber mood; perhaps the music and choice of readings. Whatever it was, I began to understand Lent and Humility and Jesus' sacrifice unlike before.

Psalm 51 was read and soaked into my being. Perhaps a good way to start a repentant Lent (I highlighted the parts that stood out to me):

Psalm 51:

Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy
blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
and cleanse me from my sin!

For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is ever before me.
Against you, you only, have I sinned
and done what is evil in your sight,
so that you may be justified in your words
and blameless in your judgment.
Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity,
and in sin did my mother conceive me.
Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being,
and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart.

Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Let me hear joy and gladness;
let the bones that you have broken rejoice.
Hide your face from my sins,
and blot out all my iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from your presence,
and take not your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and uphold me with a willing spirit.

Then I will teach transgressors your ways,
and sinners will return to you.
Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God,
O God of my salvation,
and my tongue will sing aloud of your righteousness.
O Lord, open my lips,
and my mouth will declare your praise.
For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it;
you will not be pleased with a burnt offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

Do good to Zion in your good pleasure;
build up the walls of Jerusalem;
then will you delight in right sacrifices,
in burnt offerings and whole burnt offerings;
then bulls will be offered on your altar.

I was brought to reflection. And in reflection came about pride and stubbornness. And from that a simple prayer spilled onto my journal pages:

"Continue to teach me, God, that I don't know everything. That I don't know best- but you do. Humble me."

Humility, all of the sudden, took on a whole new meaning for me. Perhaps something I've understood in the past, but easily forgot without constant reminder. Humility is simply acknowledging that God's way is best. And somehow, I imagine it becomes quite a bit easier to follow the will and way of God when we can accept that that way is best.

This understanding, in turn began answering a question-- or perhaps more of a curiosity-- that I've had for weeks. In a liturgical church (i.e. Catholic, Episcopal, Lutheran), it is customary for the celebrant (pastor/priest doing communion) to explain the last supper. It's usually read from a script which seems to be common among most churches, and one that I've been reciting in my head along with the celebrant since I was a kid (corny, I know- but it kept me entertained).

It goes something like this:

"On the night he was betrayed he took bread; and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and gave it to his disciples, and said, 'Take, eat; This is my Body, which is given for you. Do this for the remembrance of me.'

After supper, he took the cup of wine, gave thanks, and said. 'Drink this, all of you: This is my Blood of the new Covenant, which is shed for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins. Whenever you drink it, do this for the remembrance of me.'"

What has stood out to me for the past few weeks was that highlighted phrase: "Do this for the remembrance of me." He says it both times, and I thought, if those are the only things Jesus actually says while he's canniballistically offering himself to his friends, they must be important. Now what does that mean? Remember me. When you eat my body and drink my blood, remember me. Seems simple enough. But why?

Perhaps it means this:

Remember how I lived; not for myself, but for God's will. And how I obeyed His will unto death.

Remember how I love(d) you.

Remember that I struggled as a human- just as you do. Don't think that listening to and following the Father's will is impossible... Because I did it. I overcame the grip Satan has over humanity- on death giving choices- because I always chose life, in order to give you life. Day by day, moment by moment, thought by thought, I chose life- with God's help.

Remember my sacrifice in my body and blood. Remember my choice for life in my bodily death. Remember that you are faced with the same choices that I was- because you are still in the body.

Life is a choice. Choose death of your own advancement, you're own bodily desires, that you may truly live.

There's a lot here, but it's given me hope that this Lenten season CAN be holy. In choice. In sacrifice. In effort. In looking for strength outside of myself to do what is seemingly impossible on my own.

May your Lent, too, be Holy.

My Response to Modern Technology

Written November 23, 2009
Nelson Creamery, Nelson, WI

I've fallen into a deep pit.
Where the self in me can't get out.
Where the free-flowing thoughts are held captive
And movement weighed down by the encumbrance
Of modern devices for distraction.
They're so easy to use and so immediately gratifying.
I get hooked on pictures. Hooked on
The illusions in the media.
Hooked on the pathways that afford little to no
Consciousness to arise.
It's so easy. A click here, a click there
And a few "click, click, clicks" to go back to that
Picture that momentarily sparked my curiosity.
But why was it so interesting in the first place again?
I don't even remember. Something vain,
I imagine.
An easy way to judge without them noticing.
But day after day it's there and changing
And I dive into the shallow, mirky pool,
Wondering when I finally free myself, what
Just happened and why I feel so heavy.

Finally, I can breath again.

Triple Threat

Written December 30th, 2009
Cafe Vita, Fremont, Seattle

Into the dust I look for you
I find a hearth and knight so true.
Trickling down my face I see
A robe of certain decency.
'Amen' I say and say it loud
But unsure of that thought so proud.
Tinted, tainted, triple threat
Find my face in the safest bet.

Rewind, Replay, Review this day
Forgive my waste of time.

My pride is challenged
My ego fought
Into this place I am-- but I am not.
Around the corner- it's just right there
Plant the seed, that seed so fair.
It's fragile and frail so treat it with care
Arrive at the beginning
That place where you're from
And wait.
Wait.
Wait.
It will come.