the astonishment of God

Throughout all of the Gospels, we constantly read about how the people who encountered Jesus were astonished. They were amazed and captured by His power to heal, His spiritual authority, His teachings, His ability to expose the motives of the Pharisees, His defiance of social or cultural expectations, His claims of divinity. We often talk about being amazed by God or amazed by grace. And these of course are right, necessary, beautiful and worshipful reactions. Yet it never occurred to me that God Himself could be amazed.

There is, however, one time any Gospel writer uses the word "astonished" to describe Jesus. It happens when he encounters a centurion, a Roman soldier who seeks him out and implores Jesus to heal his sick servant. Jesus offers to go to the servant and heal him. But the centurion declines his offer, stating that he is confident that Jesus need only "say the word" and his servant would be healed. He responds to Jesus, saying, "For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, 'Go,' and he goes; and that one, 'Come,' and he comes. I say to my servant, 'Do this,' and he does it." Like the regimented soldier that he is, he understood Jesus to be a man of authority. He intuitively understood that somehow Jesus held the very power of life and death in both the supernatural realm and the physical realm. He knew in the power of the unseen could affect what was seen, and that this power could defy the limits of space and time.

"When Jesus heard this, he was astonished and said to those following him, "I tell you the truth, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith. I say to you that many will come from the east and the west, and will take their places at the feast with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven. But the subjects of the kingdom will be thrown outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth."
Then Jesus said to the centurion, "Go! It will be done just as you believed it would." And his servant was healed at that very hour"

In short, Jesus was astonished. The Greek word used for "astonished" here is "thaumazo." This is the only time this word appears in Scripture. The "thaumazo" means "to wonder, wonder at, marvel, to admire." For the first time, this story struck me as an incredibly poignant moment. I was suddenly fascinated by this idea that the image of the invisible God, the Logos, the ultimate Truth and Reality manifested in a human being to actually be astonished at something.

I am currently enrolled in a Worship Leadership class at Florida Christian College. Simultaneously, I've been keeping up with my friend Greg's Theology of Worship class that he teaches at his home church. So I am learning that there are all of these smart and fancy theological words that smart and fancy theologians have when it comes to the language of God, words like "transcendence" and "immanence."

To put it simply, transcendence describes those qualities of God that exist above our concepts, ideas, categories. These are the traits of God that transcend time and space. Traits like his independence, his unchangeableness, his omniscience (all-knowing), his omnipresent (present everywhere). "Immanence" refers more to those qualities that relate more to humanity and his involvement with creation. This includes traits like wisdom, goodness, love, etc.

There seem to be a lot of human traits that we share with God. According to Scripture, humanity was created "in the image of God." Within the creation of that "image" God instilled in us qualities that He himself has and that we have a capacity for, including wisdom, goodness, love, patience and will. There is an enormous, infinite chasm, however between God's more transcendent qualities and what we actually experience, such as omniscience, or all-knowing.

Because God is all-knowing, God does not have "faith" in the traditional sense. Unlike humanity, He is not subject to uncertainty or unknowns. Since He knows all things, He doesn't necessarily have "faith" in anything.

This seems so divergent from human experience. We experience uncertainty all the time. I felt this so strongly when I was in Australia earlier this year. Every day, Walt and Jeanne and I would wake up in a different hostel, and we only had vague ideas and loose itineraries about where we would go and what we would see as we road-tripped around the continent. With that immense freedom that comes with traveling, there is also the instability and anxiety of unknowns. When Jeanne and I moved to Sydney, we knew few people and had no idea where we would live or find jobs. Then, upon moving back to Orlando, we initially had no idea where we would live or find jobs. Even now, I live in a constant state of uncertainty about my circumstances of what the future holds.

This is why faith is so beautiful and difficult at the same time.

However, until recently, I never thought about the flip side of this philosophical coin: God, being all-knowing, does not experience faith Himself. This is one trait that He does not share with humanity. Since He is sovereign and knows all things, He has no need for faith himself. And so, maybe God is actually astonished by faith? Could God actually be impressed by faith?

I think so.

And it's not in a condescending "Aw, is that cute!" the way a father would be "impressed" by his daughter learning to tie her shoes or something. This is an actual astonishment, a thaumazo. God marvels and wonders at people having faith.

Over the past few years, I reacted against blind and ignorant faith, and chose to embrace doubt and skepticism for a season of my life. Faith seemed the easy route, the uninformed route, what people do who have no idea of the bloodstains and injustice of church history, the suffering of the world or even cultural and historical context of Scripture. Culture today declares faith to be the enemy of reason and that doubt is the source of true liberation for humanity. Even in churches recently, I have noticed a tendency to elevate doubt and cynicism over faith.

I love in Kierkegaard's "Fear and Trembling," how he argues that faith is actually a more difficult, higher plane of existence than doubt, and actually worthy of this deep astonishment. He delivers a beautiful passage on Abraham, named "the father of faith" to all future generations. He describes the impossible faith behind Abraham's choice to obey God and sacrifice his son. Kierkegaard writes: "...but Abraham was greater than all, great by reason of his power whose strength is impotence, great by reason of his wisdom whose secret is foolishness, great by reason of his hope whose form is madness, great by reason of the love which is hatred of oneself."

While I was at Hillsong Church, they launched their Faith Hope and Love album recording, and so these themes of faith, hope and love seemed to penetrate the culture of the church. Hearing the basics of faith and hope preached week after week, I began to realize something was breaking down within my own heart, in regard to remnants of cynicism and doubt that still remained. I began to remember how difficult and beautiful faith can be. I witnessed firsthand what incredible faith and vision can wield a powerful influence in the world. I began to actually believe in faith again, despite its inherent difficulties.

And yes, if you believe in Jesus and have committed yourself to following Him, you know these difficulties I'm talking about. You feel this all the time when you can't seem to make sense of circumstance, when prayer seems stagnant, when change doesn't seem to be happening. A life of faith is absolutely hard. It's not easy by any means. We don't have complete knowledge. That's what makes faith faith. That's what makes hope hope.

I think that's exactly why God, in His infinite wisdom and knowledge, is still astonished by it.

Faith is not an experience God Himself has. It's something that He in his omnipresence that He does not relate to. And maybe he got a glimpse of it again, as Jesus, marveling and wondering at the faith of the centurion.

So it is incredibly beautiful to imagine God as being one who marvels and delights in us as we engage in our faith. It's kind of like enjoying watching someone else dance, even though I myself cannot move in that unique way.

Andrew Peterson wrote a song several years ago called "No More Faith." In it, he sings about the day coming when only love will remain, because the need for faith and hope will pass away.

I say faith is a burden
It's a weight to bear
It's brave and bittersweet
And hope is hard to hold to
Lord, I believe
Only help my unbelief

Till there's no more faith
No more hope
I'll see your face and Lord, I'll know
That only love remains

Uncertainty will pass. The unknown will become known. And here will no longer be any space in this universe for faith and hope, because Reality will overwhelm and cause our three-dimensional existence to expand and explode into glorious eternity and infinitude.

May we live bold, astonishing lives of faith.

"Now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." [i corinthians 13:13]

from the corner window seat on Orange and Kaley.

The great Christian revolutions come not by the discovery of something that was not known before. They happen when somebody takes radically something that was always there' (H. Richard Neibuhr)

I was reading Titus this morning and was kind of struck at the introduction of the book. I just recently learned this (yeah, yeah I know I'm a late bloomer. This is what I get for skipping out on Bible College), but all of the epistles in the New Testament are introduced in the same fashion, typical of correspondence in 1st century Palestine. The author identifies himself. If it's Paul, you can be sure that his introduction usually includes an incredibly long run-on sentence in the original Greek and likely translated into English. It includes the name of the person to whom the letter is addressed, which in this case is Titus. And usually it includes the traditional blessing of some form of: "Grace and peace to you from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Savior.

A couple of things recently occurred to me. First, this is bizarre in American culture because when we typically write letters (which, if you still are fortunate enough to have people in your life who actually still write handwritten letters then good on you, mate!), we say "to whom" first and then there's the body and text of the letter and then we conclude with "from" or "sincerely" or "much love" or "cheers", etc. It's flipped. We do it backwards. So finally realizing something as insignificant as the structure of New Testament letters made me realize how personal and intentional and fraught with purpose all of these letters are. I know whenever I write a letter it's usually because I am particularly moved and inspired or frustrated or angry and want to communicate clearly my thoughts and perspective on any particular matter to a specific person. This is why I love literature like Oscar Wilde's De Profundis or Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet or Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s Letters from a Birmingham Jail. There is a personal intent and honesty and urgency in letters that is different from blogs or books or memoirs. There is a beautiful, naked eloquence about personal correspondence.

The second thing I observed is actually that this 1st century style of writing letters closely mirrors the way emails are set up. In fact I can only imagine the Book of Titus being prefaced by this way:

From: Paul, a bond-servant of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ, for the faith of those chosen of God and the knowledge of the truth which is according to godliness, in the hope of eternal life, which God, who cannot lie, promised long ages ago, but at the proper time manifested, even His word, in the proclamation with which I was entrusted according to the commandment of God our Savior.

To: Titus, my true child in a common faith

CC: The rest of the world

Subject: Grace and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Savior

Okay so maybe the CC thing is a bit ridiculous. So before you shake your head at the initial cheesiness of this, this whole idea of how correspondence is set up in the first-century culture has really has made me contemplate who I am and how I interact with people. With a clear "From" and description of himself, Paul not only has an incredibly strong sense of identity, but an eternal perspective and a story which affects his decisions, his life purpose. He boldly and clearly identifies himself as an apostle and He affirms the faithfulness of God, both personal and corporate. He lives through the certainty of his identity. Over and over we read about how Paul has all the necessary qualifications: He was a Pharisee, a teacher of the law, one endowed with leadership ability and incredible spiritual authority. He is naturally charismatic. And yet, all of these things he considers to be "rubbish, that I may be found in Christ."

He doesn't find his identity in external strengths that society esteems or even internal strengths that could give him a sense of superiority. He finds his identity in the eternal love. And all his energy and ambition and pursuits are focused and channeled to one end: God's glory and his kingdom.

Not only that, I recently discovered that that greeting of "grace and peace" prefaces nearly ever single letter that Paul, Peter or John ever wrote. It appears 13 times and always at the beginning of the letter. At first, I always dismissed this to be some kind of standard greeting, something nearly devoid of meaning. Like how people politely say "God bless you" when somebody sneezes. It always kind of seemed peripheral, like the phrase was just thrown in there to sound religious and proper.

But I realize what kind of transforming power that greeting can have if the intent behind it is genuine. I can't say that I approach all of my relationships and interactions with people with this underlying theme of "grace and peace" informing my every action.

How would actually living through the reality of grace and peace, allowing an understanding and experience of grace and peace to reform and reshape my identity and my relationships with other people? In this case, I would not merely be following a list of religious rules or being guilted into acting a certain way out of obligation or fear or compulsion. But rather, I would be living through the new creation that I am, the identity that God has given me, a Spirit-created heart that is fundamentally different from the habits and intuition of this world. Allowing God's grace and peace to overflow out of my life into the lives of other people has radical ramifications.

I think far too often, we as believers neglect the gospel of grace. We become far more concerned about asserting our own opinions, standing on our soapboxes of theology and philosophy, finding our strength by excluding rather than including, clinging to our perceptions and preferences at the expense of unity that we forget the fundamental truth of the gospel: grace.

And I of course am the first to admit that I am guilty of this.

One thing that I've become increasingly aware of within myself is to be increasingly self-critical, almost to the point where I tend to assume responsibility for things that I shouldn't. I apologize unnecessarily. I assume all of the blame when blame should be shared. This has become increasingly obvious in the way I fail or disappoint the people in my life.

In effect, I don't have grace for myself.

Or sometimes the extreme opposite becomes true. I endlessly excuse myself and other people's faults, avoiding God's gentle but firm reminder that He is here not to make me feel better about myself but to slowly recreate me as a new person.

Both tendencies, I've realized, is massive evidence of pride. What looks like selflessness can actually be a passive way to hold God and other people at arms' length. What looks like tolerance can actually be an avoidance of conflict, born out of fear and insecurity. These are things that I am working through and I pray for continued grace.

I'm still wrestling through the ramifications of this, but I do believe that at least God is calling me to begin with prayer. It's clearly not my purpose to fix other people or impose my view on them or to convince people of this or that. Rather, it's simply to serve in love, allowing grace (a sober acknowledgement of brokenness and an unconditional acceptance of it, which I can only do because I myself have been the undeserving recipient of such grace from God) and peace (active reconciliation and restoration) to reform my perspective, my actions, my motives.

So if anything, like Paul I want to find complete security of my identity in God. To find my disordered loves and idols and misplaced securities to be swallowed up in His deep and utter love that He has lavished on me in Jesus. I want to allow His perspective and love for me redefine who I am, rather than be subject solely to the whims of culture, experience, my childhood and relationships. Like Paul, I want to have that eternal perspective of grace and peace affecting me, transforming me, redefining me.

So please have patience with me when I fail as I undoubtedly will. This pattern is doomed to repeat itself from the Garden all the way to the City.

But thank God for Jesus. Seriously.

Grace and peace to you all.

"The kingdom is eternal, the gospel of Jesus becomes internal, and that becomes visible externally in the world." -Pastor Joel Abell

at the taco bell drive thru

after a long day of food and wine festival, status and rehearsal, jeanne and i pull up into our default late night dive which you might have heard of: taco bell.

where: drive-thru of some off-the-grid taco bell in kissimmee. this is probably the world's most inaccessible taco bell. an entj did not design the layout of the parking lot to taco bell. 13 right turns later, we arrived at the drive-thru.

taco bell guy: (to jeanne, handing her a water and a pepsi plus some change) here you go, ma'am.
jeanne: oh, you don't need to "ma'am" me.
taco bell guy: excuse me?
jeanne: you don't need to "ma'am" me. (insert southern belle charm)
taco bell guy: okay, sweetie. (returns 2 minutes later with our order of one chicken burrito, one bean burrito-no-sauce-no-onion and one soft-taco-with-no-lettuce) here ya go. you want any sauce, honey?
jeanne: mild and fire, please. thanks, doll.
mel: yes, thanks, sugarpop.
taco bell guy: you have a nice night, sweet cakes.
jeanne: (laughter) g'night!

Back to My First Blog Love: Dexter

So many of you know that from the days of Yore (and Yore was a very important era in colonial America, as Rachel Green would attest to), I used to provide frequent, in-depth analyses of episodes of Dexter. Seasons 1 and 2 miraculously unlocked the floodgates of inspiration and I took great pleasure in dissecting nuances, analyzing characters and hypothesizing potential plot twists, all with the fervent zeal of a new lover.

Sadly, the well-intentioned, promising but (in my humble opinion) poorly executed mess otherwise known as Season 3 decisively ended my love affair with blogging about Dexter.

Thanks to this past pivotal Season 4, Episode 4 "Dex Takes a Holiday," Dexter Blogs and I are now officially an item, reunited.

Speaking of which. Relationships. Relationships in this series have ironically always proven central. Dexter's relationship and view of Harry continues to evolve, especially now as Daddy Harry serves more as a spirit guide, a moral conscience. Well as morally conscious as a man who trained a serial killer to hide his true nature can be. Harry is the Obi Wan Kenobi to Dexter's Luke Skywalker. You can almost hear him whispering in Dex's ear, "Run, Dex, Run!"

And run, he might have to, though not in the traditional sense. In Season 4, the writers have cleverly taken us down this pathway of exploring what domestic bliss, with all its suburban restraints and charms, will do to Dexter and his stealthy extracurricular activities. I've loved every second of seeing Dexter squirm, not necessarily from the cat-and-mouse game of possibly getting caught, but how his own choices and lifestyle seem to be working against him. It's almost like Dexter is a Grand Master, playing chess with himself and checkmating himself all the while. It's not the police or prosecuting attorney out to get him, expose him, or even kill him. It's about Dexter's choices to come a father, a husband and an integrated member of civil society that keeps Dexter on his toes, sweating every possible minute.

In some ways, this show is becoming a surprisingly incisive, dark humored take on the American dream and the sanitized, suburban American way. It almost makes me think of the mid-life or quarter life crisis pandemic that seems to hit a culture overwhelmed with the curse of too many options, and a universal assumption to assert individualism and personal self-fulfillment.

But I digress.

There were so many great moments in this episode for me. When Quinn told that reporter (or Smokin' Hot Reporter Lady as some of my guy friends have unfortunately labeled her) to take a hike (Quinn can be such an IDIOT sometimes); when Lundy's six sense kicked in and he knew something was fishy about John Lithgow swooping in and "accidentally" dropping his keys (I loved this by the way: ultimate confirmation that Lundy really does deserve the title of Rock Star Serial Killer Catcher); when Dexter had a moment of clarity, an epiphany while he had that cop lady Saran Wrapped and cocooned to the table; when Deb decided to go for it and went with her heart, like she always does. Even the slightly cheesy but somehow sweet storyline of La Guerta and Angel struck a tender chord for me.

In most of these cases, each character's choice to either commit or quit relationships they are in seems to shape and define and propel both their destinies and other people's destinies on collision courses with each other.

It seems to be general consensus that Lundy indeed probably died instantaneously, while Deb will live on, although not without a serious fight. And we can only assume Dexter will have a fire lit underneath him once he hears his baby sister was shot. I am looking forward to a final showdown between John Lithgow the Trinity Killer and Dexter.

I love where this season is going in terms of plot, theme, character development.

Oh yeah, and my favorite theme music is back.

I really can't complain:)

books i want to read. and also finish reading.

I decided to post a list of books I want to read on my blog, because chances are that I am going to forget if I write this on a text document and save it in my computer somewhere. These are books that have recently come across my path or come recommended to me. I am probably going to add to this list later.

Currently In Process
Shantaram (in process) by Gregory David Roberts: First recommended by Carolina on her blog, then raved about by Jeanne after her endless quest to find a used copy of this book in bookstores throughout the Australian continent, I think I heard Jeanne laugh and react more times during this book more than any other. I initially developed a fascination with Indian culture while at university, and the idea of an Aussie convict in India and Afghanistan just sounds great. I'm finally in a regular rhythm of reading this book and I love it now, so hopefully it won't take me months to conquer this massive +900 page beast of a book.

The Seven Storey Mountain, autobiography by Thomas Merton: Something about reading Philip Yancey's Prayer book sparked within me the desire to pick up this book which has been sitting on my shelf unread for a good year. It's interesting to pair a fictional autobiography (Shantaram, heavily based in reality and the author's life experiences) with an actual biography.

The Two Towers/The Return of the King by Tolkien: My reading of this series has been in process for years. Literally. I read The Fellowship and half of The Two Towers and never finished Return of the King. I think something about traveling and having an incredible, arduous journey around the world and back has made me want to re-visit these books and attempt it once again. In other words, I'm back in the Shire and would like some hobbits to empathize with.

Want to Read:
Here and Now/Wounded Healer by Henri Nouwen: Seeing Brennan Manning and Philip Yancey and generally anybody awesome relentlessly quote this guy has made me want to read more by him. I just finished In the Name of Jesus which was a short read. There is so much truth and wisdom in that book. Simple, too. The trick is actually living it out. Which, incidentally, I have not figured out.

The Moviegoer by Walker Percy: This also has been sitting on my shelf for a year, maybe more. Came recommended to me years ago by my friend Mo, on account of its themes of grace and colorful setting in New Orleans. Being in Savannah, GA this weekend made me want to read some good hearty Southern literature.

Everything That Rises Must Converge by Flannery O'Connor: In the tv show LOST, "Jacob" was sitting on a bench reading this book shortly before John Locke fell out of the 10-story building. That's reason enough for me. Also, my friend/former bandmate Ryan has perpetually recommended me anything by Flannery O'Connor. Also going along with the Southern theme...

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky: Another Jeanne Cannon recommend. Also, I would love to compare and contrast the themes and characters with other Dostoesky books I've read. There are only two of them that I've read. But still. I love Russians and I'm discovering that I may have a little (or a lot) of Russian deep in my soul.

Crazy Love by Francis Chan: My youth minister friend Josh endlessly raves about this book.

Surprised By Hope by N.T. Wright: Somebody told me a long time ago that I should read this. And I am suddenly out of my no-more-theology-books phase. Plus I know N.T. Wright is that shiznit and I just need to read something by him.

With Christ in the School of Prayer by Andrew Murray: I think this is Andrew Murray's Mere Christianity. I've only read one Andrew Murray book, a lesser-known book called The Ministry of Intercession, but I haven't read his main book. Philip Yancey has recommended him too. A good follow-up book to the last one on prayer.

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez: I am sure I tested the fates by shipping this book back from Australia to my Floridian doorstep two months ago. Literally shipped it. It traversed perilous waters and waves to make itself back to me after an arduous 2-hour journey. I at least owe it to the book to give it a fair shot, after only reading the first 48 pages of it and being thoroughly confused.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury: Read the first chapter and the prose is captivating. Always good to throw in some eerily prophetic science fiction into the mix. Also Ray is the bomb. I'm pretty sure I read short stories by him in high school but now I can't remember.

Catch 22 by Joseph Keller: Because I use this phrase occasionally. And I have no idea why.

maybe I should stop blogging and start reading.

Tybee Island, Georgia.

Tybee Island, Georgia.

Jeanne and I decided to get up and run 10 kilometers this morning. She shuffled through the covers to wake me up at around 6:30 a.m. I had been dreaming of a time in the not-too-distant future when people started distrusting meteorologists and started listening to and interpreting the patterns of bird calls to predict the weather. It seemed like a futuristic science fiction novel in which common people begin to whisper conspiratorially that we must return to the ancient ways and rebel against soul-sucking technology. I had been leaning by a window with opened shutters listening to the birds outside my window when I suddenly felt someone shuffling through the covers, jabbing me awake. "Wake up, Mel. It's 6:30."

Still groggy, I slapped on my running clothes, silently cursing my recent decision to run a half-marathon in December. We slipped outside of our beachfront hotel room. We stood by the front of sign in front of the hotel on Butler Avenue, the main street that winds along the coast of Tybee Island. I caught a glimpse of the sky, still dark, but slightly tinted with a pink glow, the beginnings of a beach sunrise. Jeanne must have seen it too, because she suddenly said, "This is gonna be a good run."

Funny how the sky can change your mind about things.

As we stretched, I looked at the sign that said "DeSoto Beachfront Hotel: Tybee Island's only beachfront hotel! Come enjoy our beachfront pool." Guess they wanted you to know the hotel was on the beach front.

We started jogging on a gravel path that wound around all sorts of old beachfront homes, the kind of unpretentious, cheerful houses dripping with polite Southern charm that you imagine have creaky floorboards and rusty hinges. The paint is chipped, following years of being salted by the sea and warmed by the Georgian sun. They are draped and shadowed by oak, sycamore and sugarberry trees.

The streets crossing this lone gravel path have names like Anderson and Campbell and I imagine small clans and families settling in these houses by the sea. I imagine barbecues and house parties and weddings. When we passed through Savannah yesterday, we passed Liberty Avenue, an impressive boulevard sheathed in a canopy of oak and Spanish moss, with sentinels of enormous mansions of colonnades and wraparound porches lining the street. Jeanne commented on the history of the boulevard, saying, "These houses saw Sherman."

We are separated only by two centuries.

The thing I noticed about Tybee Island is that there are lots of conversation areas. It's as if this island was discovered and settled solely for the purpose of conversation in mind. Wooden park benches, deck chairs, cafe tables in patios lined with tiki torches and Chinese lanterns. Lots of intimate, well-worn spaces gradually carved out by the gentle erosion of time. I noticed a pair of wooden deck chairs perched on a dock that nestled its way through a swamp of tall sawgrass. Even trailers of row boats and skiffs lining the driveways evoked images of friends, families and lovers sharing hazy sundrenched days together. I do love how the sea breeze and sand seem to conspire to cling to everything. The blades of grass, the gravel, half-submerged fences by the sea, my pockets, my hair, my clothes.

The gravel has ended and we have made our way back to the main drag.

We raced the fences lining Butler Avenue, passing a row of churches that suddenly seemed brighter. Jeanne pointed to a whitewashed, wooden building with a sign that said "The Optimist Club. We wish you a safe and prosperous stay."

"Wonder where the Cynics Club is."

"Across the street."

"I imagine it's easy to be an optimist when you wake up to the sunrise every morning."

"Yeah, especially a sunrise on the beach."

I read a caution sign that said: Slow Church Zone. I laughed.

I saw a flock of seagulls escape and veer off through the trees, rising and disappearing into the sky. We passed through a grove of trees, and even through my headphones I could hear cicadas screaming for my attention. They overpowered the electric guitar and drums blasting through my iPod.

I felt a sudden burst of energy. I suddenly remembered my meal from the other night, which included a cilantro potato salad. I thought of all those carbohydrates and felt an affectionate surge of gratitude toward my dinner last night. "Thank you, potato salad," I cheered out of nowhere. I looked over at Jeanne. She is oblivious to my triumphant shout to potato salad, fully absorbed in her own solitude, set to the music of her iPod.

We are on the homestretch. I see our beachfront hotel with the beachfront pool by the beachfront sign in the distance. My feet are rebelling, grumbling and interrogating me as to why I haven't bought thicker socks. But my endorphins are in ecstasy.

This was a good run.

smash the universe for the sake of itself.

epiphany

the reason i am so frail now
is that my whole identity has become bound up
in one not You
the reason so much hurts these days
is that part of me is driven by
fear.

fear of loss of something that is good
but something that has perhaps become
an ultimate thing.

this is what has caused the insecurity,
the mistrust, the fear, the emotional turmoil, everything.

this is why these things sting,
the words,
the prospect of others,
the comparison
and the crisis of self.

so Spirit...
shatter this within me; break this apart
wrest this from my desperate grasp

this is the one thing before me right now
that is capable of rendering all of the moments up until this one
meaningless.

if i succumb
when my foundation becomes Another,
than the One disappears

Reduced.
Betrayed.
Denied.

identity both there
and in us
it is the source

Idolatry

is the source of my pain
my frustration
my fragility

this is,
quite simply,
a chain.

break the chain
let me walk in freedom

this wasn't a problem before
because it wasn't
only when I've allowed a good and beautiful thing
to supplant
the Good and Beautiful One

I surrender this to you
i quit it.

i am tired of grasping this idol.

let this die
and fall from my grasp

you are the only One worthy of my worship
my obsession
my destiny
i've gone from looking at the horizon to
looking at Another

i can take criticism and not be crushed
i can give criticism without crushing
because of the grace God has shown me through Jesus

extraordinary patience.

there is nothing between us now.

[romans 8:38-39]