7.25.2007

Jetta Update.

It's dead.

I blew a head gasket and it is going to cost $600 just to see what else might be wrong. I just can't afford this, so I am a at a bit of a loss. It looks like I am going to fix it, sell it for blue book, pay off the difference of what I owe and then buy a new car.

But as of right now, I'm pretty near broke. Keep praying.

7.24.2007

Damon

Johnny Damon is .... well ... sucking right now. I know the Yanks are on a hot streak, but they need to put Cabrera at the top of the order and let Johnny take a rest and figure out where his swing went. Otherwise, I don't know how long this awesome streak can last.

Living on Grace While Life is on the Fritz

Life sucks; its an axiom.

My car started acting up a couple of days ago -- overheating where it used to run cool. I took it in to the shop, payed $300 and they changed the thermostat, flushed the coolant system and replaced a couple of hoses. Unfortunately, they didn't fix the problem. As it turns out, I also blew a head gasket and, as the mechanic mentioned consulting his machinist before giving me a quote some time today, I may have also cracked a head.

Not good.

I have been living in God's grace for the past couple of months, waiting for a job, waiting to get back on my feet, waiting to pay back my friends who have so graciously given me money to pay rent, etc. But its trying.

Sometimes I feel as though I am not living out God's purpose for my life because I am unable to provide for all of my needs, or handling life's financial curve balls proves to be difficult. But I know in my heart of hearts that God is good, that He is much bigger than me or my situation, that He has my back where everyone else would have walked away. Here are two examples of God's goodness, proven to me yesterday.

1. I'm driving home in my sister's car and the sky opens up clear and bright. Seriously clear in Los Angeles. There were a few clouds here and there, all wispy like pulled-cotton against the powder-blue backdrop. I took a picture of it on my phone and felt comforted by God, knowing beyond basic knowledge that God is good. I nearly cried.

2. On the same drive home I called a couple of friends to begin creating a prayer network to get the Jetta fixed. One of the people I called was my good friend April. She's pretty cool -- we climb, surf and hike together. We would snowboard together too, if she could get down the mountain fast enough. Anyway, she fixes the fences at gated communities and works at Starbucks for a living. I tell her what's going on, she says she'll pray and that's that. Or so I thought. Later in the evening I went to the gamers' cafe with Jeff and April called. She said she was stopping by my place to see if I was there and, as I wasn't she left me a note. I didn't think much of it. It sort of happens from time to time. Upon getting home I notice the note she mentioned, tucked inside of an old cardboard cd case. Inside was a list of things to bring for the backpacking trip we are taking this weekend and a check for $400. There was no note, no explanation, just open-hearted generosity.

God, if this is what you have in mind for the rest of my life -- learning to lean into You, to trust you as you provide for my needs, even while I walk, hands forward in the darkness -- count me in.

7.12.2007

The longest one

I have been working on this poem today. It is still unfinished, but I thought it might be nice to get some feedback. It is a love story (Surprise!)

Your name has reached me
on the sea-salt winds --
it has entwined itself in my bosom
& stretched deep into my heart
building up a little tower
a stronghold
and, pushing into my blood,
grows roots
with every breath of my body.
You and I
we walked together
along the sun-bronzed shore
and down the muddied lane --
staining our feet with the landscape.
We would meander through the paved
and cobbled streets
where the baker's scent found us
in the goldenrod afternoon
and we pulled apart his sweet bread
with sticky fingers
to taste its flesh upon our mouths.
Do you remember those soporific days, my love?
Do you remember stopping
in that alley to let
time slow,
just a step,
that we might kiss
under the amber light of dawn?
I remember.
I cannot forget.
I recall the night I sped to your open arms
when the glow of your lamplight shone
through your window
and the shock of your touch sent me reeling.
How, with meteor and steel
your comet searing lips made their way
through those unnamed corridors
of oblivion
and I tensed at its burning.
Then I mapped the coastline
and gave special care to your wild places,
breathing in your wheat and honey skin,
expanding your name in my bosom
and navigating through the sea of your eyes,
floating and sinking, living in them,
living on them and their sustenance.
In the Spring,
in the Spring
our outcropping of a life will grow
and our love with it,
so that, when we share the fire
you will sleep in my shadow and keep warm.
In the cold and harsh times
when life is but a dormant memory,
when the eucalyptus ceases its growth
we will go on.
It will be so because your name is on
the sharp Northern wind
and it rakes away the lonely leaves
and gives us strength
to create anew.
It is in these times, my love,
when we will see with honest eyes
and the scent of jasmine and youth
will cause our smiling.
In the dancing shadows of windy Winter,
when your naked silhouette shivers
in the mist
these arms will cover you;
they will cover your perfect breasts,
they will massage away the fear
gripping Spring tightly in both hands
and pulling firmly on the sun
so that the tapestry of my skin will calm your
fragile form.
Then, my love, we will
go walking as before.
And again the roses and junipers,
the ash and pines,
rocks and mountains --
they will say a name,
an unknown and lovely sound,
for it is our Love-Name;
it will be written
on the humped-backs of the waves
roiling forth toward the earth,
and in the stardust
and the moonlight.
The wind will whisper it
in a long-forgotten tongue
so that we will be tied to creation
even as I am tied to you.

7.11.2007

Daniel.

There are times in my life when I wish that my pockets went a little deeper, or that my heart were a little bigger. A couple of Sundays ago, I had one of those experiences.

I am currently attending services at CA (Christian Assembly) in Eagle Rock, CA. I stand abreast of them theologically, appreciate the applicable, exegetical style of preaching and have found myself steadily building a community which I am able to help support and vice-versa. For all intents and purposes, I am already beginning to think of CA as "home."

But sometimes you want to punch your brother right in the face.

The evening service, called Fusion, is the service I usually attend; it is geared more or less toward the 18-35 demographic, though the worship and sermon for the day do not change. At any rate, I really enjoy it. So there I am, sitting next to Azina in the 3rd row from the back, minding my own business, listening to the message being given when POW!, in comes a guy, totally late, obviously drunk, disheveled, and maybe a little off his rocker. I imagined he was homeless, or close to it. He came into my row, politely garbled an "excuse me," stepped on my unshoed feet in passing and sat down next to Azina.

To show her comfort -- as I could tell she was obviously uncomfortable -- I put my arm around her.

We resume listening to Mark explain whatever it was he was explaining. (Honestly, I was thinking of that guy sitting next to my girl, wondering about the last time he had a meal, or a shower, or a meal and a shower in the same day.) Then, this guy -- he begins agreeing with Mark from where he is sitting with slurred words and joy! I don't mean that sort of joy mixed in with religiosity and a cool "I love Jesus, but I know when its time to say 'Amen'" sort of joy. I mean real, unbridled, rising-above-the-human-condition sort of joy. The sort of joy you only get to hear about.

Then, people begin looking back, staring. Gaping. Judging.

Men and women alike craned their necks to peer at this man, to silently mock him, to scream "Shut up!" with their eyes, to mingle in their hate of anything "other" with that of their faith in Jesus. A guy about my age at the end of my row came and sat down next to the joyful one, putting his arm around him and whispering for him to be quiet. An apology was given and the man became quiet, somber, ill-at-ease. But soon, very soon, really, he got back to agreeing with Mark, to making his presence known, to exclaiming that he understood. I felt a joy rise up in me for this man. I agreed too. Why was I the quiet one?

So another, older man looks back and retreats up the stairs into the foyer of the sanctuary. Remember, we are seated in the sanctuary, where everyone should feel safe. This is where criminals used to grab the horns of the altar and seek forgiveness. But not this time. An usher came and excused the inebriated man from the rest of the crowd, relegating him to the back of the building. At this point, Mark looked up from his teaching and saw the man escorted out of the sanctuary; he didn't say a word.

It was then that I felt a fury in my bones and I wished to God for violence.

I cannot tell you what the remainder of the service was about because I had stopped paying attention. I had started planning. When all was said and done I got up from my pew and told Azina I would catch up to her. I found the man as he came back in and grabbed him in an embrace.

"Hey brother," I said.
"Hey!," he said.

I found out his name is Daniel. He lives with his brother and has been actually staying sober. (He wasn't drunk after all -- just damaged from all the alcohol and hard times of his life.) We walked across the street to the cafe, I got him some food and we talked. He told me about his time in Viet Nam, his love for Jesus, his brother. I told him about when I was a kid, being homeless, motel life, Jesus, my brother. Even sitting down and talking, people continued to gawk. I couldn't believe it. We departed for the evening, but I know that I will see Daniel again; I hear he is a bit of a regular attender at CA.

Yet I do not understand the men and women of Modern Christianity. Didn't Jesus say that we should clothe the needy, give them food and drink, a place to rest, visit the prisoners, have pity on the widow? Didn't he say that if we did that to them, we were doing it to him? Aren't the poor in spirit blessed? Are these people reading a different Bible than me?

So, I can only do what I have been called to; I am very grateful that I am not responsible for any others' salvation, because -- by this point -- I would have braided myself a cord of leather. I understand that violence is not the answer, though sometimes it seems the easiest route.

The only thing I can say is to remember not to put a limit on your generosity. Who cares what the homeless man does with your dollar? It was never yours to begin with. If you don't have the time to teach the man to fish, why do you withhold the bit of extra that you do have? I understand that it could lead to building a welfare state, but everything you are entrusted with doesn't amount to much if you go hoarding away all of your talents.

Didn't the early Church believe that withholding charity from the poor was the same as thievery?

7.10.2007

My God

Something I am working on. Maybe something like a psalm.

Give me Your Name in fire
in meteor steel, in windy whispers
Bruise my calloused, thick-skinned body
with the all-consuming wieght of Your touch;
Brush against my face with the tenderness
of Your fingertips
Cause me, O Faithful One, to remember
the glory of Your back as You walk past --
and I uncover my eyes to glimpse
Your Radiance;
Help me to recall my true name
The name You have called me by since
darkness, since time unending
Tattoo me with Your Love,
That I might not forget,
that Your Name will always remain
On these lips, in this heart, even in murky, milky
silence.

A More Commodious Space, Though Now I Have to Flush the Toilet

The new job is working out pretty well; I actually get a cubicle which I can "decorate" however I choose, as opposed to the "Desk in the Round" setting of the old job, which felt a little 3rd grade-ish. As a result, it is a little more commodious (spacious) though there are a couple of drawbacks. They are as follows:

1. We are sort of situated in the hood.
2. The bathroom isn't nearly as nice -- I have to actually push the handle to flush the toilet.
3. No more free soda. :(
4. The "kitchen" also doubles as the supply closet.

We should be moving to a new office on the 8th floor within the next 2 months and renovating a lot, which I am looking forward to. As I said, this is a pretty cool place; thus far, I really like the people and am getting along quite well. When the dust settles, I hope to move up fairly effortlessly.

7.09.2007

The Start of Something New

Today is a funny day; I dragged myself out of bed at 7 am to turn on the shower and breathe in the steam from the hot water. I'm not usually up this early in the morning, at least not on a regular basis. (Granted, sometimes I stay up until about this time, but then I can just go to bed and wake up sometime post-meridian.)

At any rate, I'm up with a bit of free time before I leave in 15 minutes. I'm beginning a new job and am currently in that ambivalent state somewhere between excitement and dread. I'm very happy that I can work on something new, utilizing the gifts I have been given on a more regular basis, but I sort of fear that I won't live up to expectation -- having more experience on the desk than most of the editors currently employed by this new company -- Prime Newswire. As it turns out, I have been out of work for over a month now, though I knew I had locked this job in after my first (and only) interview that lasted more than 3 hours -- which took place over a month ago at this point as well.

I heard that this company was a little unorganized, but I had not realized how true that actually was. I would get calls asking me if I had spoken with so and so and, when I answered in the negative, I was told someone would call me back. Through this job, God is already quickening my patience and giving me this sense that I am in for an exciting, though bumpy ride.

Anyway, I begin the new job, essentially doing the exact same thing I was doing at PRN, though the possibility for growth within the company is drastically improved, it is a little farther away and I will now be on the day shift. Since I don't mind hard work, driving and hanging out with my friends at night, I think this is a good move.