Today is Christmas. Well...technically it is now Boxing Day...34 minutes past midnight according to my watch.

Is it horrible of me to think of dying today? Not in the morbid or depressing sort of way. It's different. It's more like this sense that I desire to be in God's presence so much that I actually look forward to dying. And that is why I thought of it today (or yesterday...whatever). On Christmas we celebrate the most generous of gifts that God ever gave us...Himself. His presence. To have Him go with us. That's what Christ did. So I thought of it today...I thought of how wonderful death will be. Because it will only mean an end to living in a broken, burdensome world...and the the beginning of a glorious existence living unendedly in His presence. Yes, I look forward to that day.

If I die before my presumable time...or even if I die in my old age...I want someone somewhere somehow to know this. While I am mostly content here on this earth, and while I submit myself gratefully to God's will to keep me here...my soul longs to be free from this body...from my flesh...and to be fully united with my Creator. My heart knows He is its truest, deepest desire. This place...this world...is so strange to me. I do not understand it. I feel as though I am an alien here...and in ways I am. Because it is not my home. And time and time again I tell Him, "I want to go Home."

Yet with this in mind...knowing what such sweet things are in store for me...I realize I am not really here for myself. If that were the case, then silly me! For there is nothing here in the worldly kingdom that isn't far better in the kingdom of heaven. No, with all this in mind I realize...I am here for His purposes. And when those expire...may so I. May so I go and be with Him. I long for that day. Like a child who waits for Christmas...like a bride who waits for her wedding day...but far more than that. With great joy I look forward to finally standing before Him, falling at His feet and worshiping my Love.

I should be sleeping.

When it's late like this, I think too much. I think about things that make me melancholy like Preston or England. I've been sorting through my music for the last few hours because I have a show coming up on Wednesday, and I came across an old song by Paul Simon: Kathy's Song. There is a line in it..."And from the shelter of my mind, Through the window of my eyes, I gaze beyond the rain drenched streets To England where my heart lies..."

It is strange when you love a place that you know you don't belong in. In some ways it's like loving someone you know isn't right for you. It's not that I don't fit in with England. Oh contrare! It simply means that England is not where I belong...for now. Even if my heart is there in many ways. I also love Tacoma and I'm glad to be here.

And someday...I'd like to go to the far reaches of the earth again...even farther...to places like the South Pacific...maybe Vanuatu. I still dream. I still hope and pray and wonder and dream.

I still dream.

Constantly I am faced with this question of singleness...and given enough time (though it rarely takes much), the answer goes back to praising God for it. I have to know, without a shadow of doubt, that if I do marry, it will be a part of my calling. How can I put marriage above being a missionary? I know with such certainty that I cannot. No matter how hard I try, no matter how often I wander...(prone to wander, Lord, I feel it)...God always brings me back to that night in a parking lot in a city called Seattle...the night He made it clear that I am called to be a servant of Jesus Christ...a missionary. How well have I stewarded what I've been given in light of this calling? In truth, not well.

I am in Tacoma, an amazing place to be a light of Christ. Yet my thoughts wander...from the shelter of my mind, through the window of my eyes I gaze beyond the rain drenched streets to England where my heart lies...and to other places...to the whole of Europe, and to Africa...and to the South Pacific.

May I praise and honor God from where I my feet are already planted.

Tonight I will share, without going into detail, that I've arrived at a place...and looking back at not only the last 12 weeks but also the last few years, this place would have all the appearance of being the end of a journey. Yet I know, in reality, I have only begun this journey.

I have focused so much of my attention...in this little life of mine...to controlling as much of it as possible. And as much as I believed I could have that control, I never did. I believed I controlled my relationships, though in a way that rarely (if ever) appeared aggressive...merely that I always held people a safe distance from me, giving them some hope of vulnerability and dependence, but never delivering. I believed I controlled my finances...but it has proved time and time again that really I've given my finances control over me. I believed I controlled my destiny...mostly in seemingly subtle ways; ways that probably most everyone thinks they OUGHT to control it. I even believed that perhaps I could control my emotions, which never worked well because instead of stewarding them, I simply pushed them into some deep cavern that, when overfull, only forced my emotions out in selfish ways. I was never in control. And I never will be.

There was a time when this troubled me. Now it overjoys me. I have peace because not only do I believe God is control, but (and this is key) I believe God is GOOD. And GENEROUS. And FAITHFUL. And FORGIVING. And....I believe, truly...that He does love me. And He loves well. All this time, by my actions, I was telling God that I knew better than He what is best for me...and time and time again I proved such a statement to be a lie.

Now, Lord, can I simply rejoice that YOU ARE AWESOME!? And who cares if things don't turn out the way I expect them to!? That's not the point! It's not all about ME!!! I'm NOT God! I complain because I'm selfish instead of joyfully trusting You, believing You are good, and serving because YOU SERVED US! Only when I seek Your presence and make it my treasure am I able to love others without seeking selfish gain. And that is what we do, isn't it? When we are honest with ourselves, we see how that is what we do. That is what I do, anyway, and I have a suspicion that I am far from being being alone in it.

So praise, God, all you saints! Praise Him! For He is good and His works are AWESOME!

Good Ol' Poetry

Today I came across some old poetry I wrote back in the day. It got me into a bit of an introspective mood. I'm hoping more poetry will come out of it.

For old times sake, here's a few of the originals:

-Untitled Original

Behind the window pane lives a silent black.
No rustling of trees or footsteps down the walk.
Only a dark that is so alive it stalks;
Waiting behind the double curtains of glass
Until this room’s dim candle is not wax but only wick;
And its light fades in to a quick puff of stale-smelling smoke.
Then it will consume me in my bed
And drain me of life,
And run its smooth fingers across my face,
Coaxing me into some dream laced coma.



-Another Untitled Original

thumping, thumping
comes the rain
like millions of fists
conquering the roof
of a two-hundred year old church;

the seige
goes unnoticed
by the young church musicians,
self-proclaimed missionaries,
over the clang and clash and bang
- budump, budump -
on the snare! on the bass!
striking keys! power chords!
vibrato, vibraaaato, VIBRAAAAATOOOO!
in Jesus name!

all worshipping
the rhythm, the melody
fashioned by the hands of adam.
all...

...but one lad?

in the corner, tucked away on the sill,
ear pressed against cold charged glass,
fascinated
with the sound
that rain makes
when interuppted
by a window.

just one lad?

unconvinced?
- maybe -
day dreaming
of breaking away
from a wild truth that has
become
"institutionalised";
a freedom that has
become
"boxed in";
a renewing that has
become
"mainstreamed";

something deeper
made shallow or
adam has tried
to build with
bricks of humanity.

just one lad?

nay.

there are five
windows
for sitting
on each side
of the two-hundred year old church.

one for me
and a spare ear
to press

and listen.


-This Woman’s Resignation

In early October I drew me a bath
(Because taking a bath is a rarity).
Laying still in the tub, under my breath,
I murmured past words of clarity.
And soaking in thoughts, I drew a request
And exhaled my earnest submission.
“God of heaven, let me resign
To a life of simple ambition.”


-The Feisty Boiler

The boiler in my room gargled, spat and creeped
With the purpose to wake me
From my beautifying sleep
In order that I might call on a young man.
Who? I did not know,
For there are three of them.
So I hissed back instead.
And tossed the quilt over my head.
More sleep and more dreams; more bed.
Then again the boiler popped and whistled.
“Not again,” I said.
“Again and again,” he knocked.
“Wake up and call your friend.”
Defeated, I rose, but hooted back,
“I do not even know which of them to call!”
With authority he rumbled,
“Call them all!”
“Call them all?
I suppose there ARE just three.
But it is late where they are
And they’d not care to speak.”
“Call them all! Call them all!
I say it again, just call!”
So I rang up the first and probably my closest,
But my friend did not answer.
(For surely this was hopeless.)
Then I dialed the second, a good friend indeed.
But without even a ring
It went straight to his message machine.
Finally, the third I was sure would not care
If he heard my voice
Or had I words to share.
But I rang him because certainly
The boiler was miffed I had waited.
And he’d probably hiss more if I hesitated.
Then…
“Hello” came his voice, deep and tired.
I was startled. Lost my pride.
“I know it’s late where you are
and you’re probably sleeping,
but my boiler is gargling, spatting and creeping.”
“Now is perfect because I’ve nothing to do,
And I’ll always welcome a call from you.”
So we chatted for hours,
Nearly three,
I left him encouraged.
He strengthened me.
And to think,
I would have slept instead
if not for the boiler banging next to my bed.


-On Letters To A Friend

I’ve written letters that live in an envelope
Tucked away in a book near my bed.
I won’t tell you what they say,
Though someday
You’ll know. You’ll have read.
What scares me? What I write.
They are more than words to a friend.
Though unattached and whimsical;
Not analytical;
Meaning bends when I bend.
Don’t trust curves of ink on paper.
Trust how I have proven
I’ll remain ever so loyal –
Never to spoil
The threads we’ve together woven.

Back by popular demand...?

As requested by Scott Schubert, I am writing a new blog.

It's such a beautiful day out today. I ought to go for a walk around the woods instead of staying in this office. I have been debating this very thing, actually, for some time. I say to myself, "Oh, you HAVE to go outside. It will be lovely and days like this are very rare this time of year." And the other side of it is that I have a sermon I have been trying to concentrate on for the past several hours. I quite enjoy working on this sermon (it is on 1 Corinthians 9:19-23), but maybe I could do with a break.

Come to think of it, a nice walk might really get me centered on the Lord and 'fix my gaze upon Him' all the better. Or just give me a bit of peace.

I am no stranger to finding comfort and rest in nature. I can recall several occasions (and a far many more are lost to the past and will never come to mind) when I have been greatly affected by the richness of God's character revealed in forests, lakes, oceans, skies, valleys, plains, etc. Perhaps that is why I enjoy living in the Northwest so much. There is no shortage of natural beauty in this blessed place.

I will refer to a time when I was struggling with trusting the Lord...which seems to be a common theme not only in my life, but in humanity. I was sat next to a very large lake outside of Leavenworth (here in Washington) mumbling whatever in prayer to Him. It was next to that lake that I found a certain peace; that in witnessing even just the vastness of a lake that was nothing compared to an ocean, I somehow understood that God is not only trustworthy, but also MIGHTY. So mighty, in fact, that the burdens which weighed on my shoulder at the time were hardly a weight to be noticed by Him. And yes, He could carry them perfectly well. Whatever pity party I may have been having at the time were silenced by His creation.

Good on Him.

I will end this note with something that has NOTHING to do with what I've just written: I started watching the Vicar of Dibley last night again and I have to tell you...it is still my favorite show of all time.

That's all for now - off to spend a few minutes outside!!!