If only we knew..

So you go to the store to buy some milk. It's a great walk: the grass is green and freshly cut. The sun is shining and there is gentle breeze to cool you off. "Wow. I'm so glad that I decided to walk instead of drive," you say. Just at that moment, a car comes racing down the road, skids out of control, and crashes into a telephone pole just in front of you. The driver crawls out of the car, bleeding profusely. He gasps once, breathing his last at your feet. Still glad you're on that walk?

What do we know about the future? We count the grass and sun as blessings and the dead man as a curse on our walk, ruining what was so pleasant a few seconds before. We wish, because of the horror of the crash, that we had never gone on that walk. But what if you had driven instead? Would you have been in that crash? Maybe...

There is an assurance that Christians hold, a confidence in the future that I hold dear. As Paul said, "To live is Christ, to die is gain". We can enjoy the grass and air, appreciating the goodness God has created, but we can do it without fear of its removal. Were the loveliness to be replaced with a mangling disaster, the Christian can live for Christ..or die, and gain the reward of heaven, thankful that his earthly task is completed. Do you have that confidence, the seal on your life that brings release from worry and anxiety?

Take a look at the God of Abraham and Adam: he is offering you a chance at peace and life.

Learning to fly

Life is such an awesome responsibility. Heavy with the weight of the past, fraught with anxiety about the future, and the continuous pressure of the present, so many trudge along in confusion trying to look like they know where they're going, gone, and are. We see lives lived greatly, mightily that give us hope in our own future. We hope to see such greatness in our own lives. But what about those great people? They certainly looked like they walked with surety.

The lives of great men and women, those that are truly great in mind and deed, are so because they use the wisdom of the past and live in the present, hoping for the future. They recognize their place in the cogs of eternity's clock, and just try their best to fulfill it. Gandhi would certainly be recognized as great, and yet he lived only with what he needed for the day, without storing up great security for his future. He did what he felt was required, and let that be enough. Abraham Lincoln was often weighted down by his choices, but he chose and moved firmly forward, hoping that his choices would create the future he dreamed of.

The Taoists look to nature for truth, and they've got it halfway right. The elements of nature live in the now, but they do not leave the wisdom of the past nor shirk the deeds to secure their future. Little birds learning to fly only get one chance: if they fall out of the nest, they're usually dead (or soon to be). And yet birds learn to fly all the time, stretching their wings when they are big enough, soaring when they are strong enough. They learned to depend on their mother when they are young, when there is no need to fly. When the time comes, they try, they leap, and they sometimes fall. They are not thinking of their future; they only know it is time to fly.

I wish our children were taught in the same fashion. I wish they could stretch out their wings simply because if it time, without worrying about the past or the future. Part of our human thought, however, brings guilt and anxiety too close to be forgotten. And yet, those that fall from the nest also live the fate of humanity: the chance to try again. Perhaps not to succeed at the same task, but maybe, just maybe, if they really want to, to succeed in another place.

Walking on water

It takes such courage and confidence to step out and walk on that less-traveled road. Some people seem to have the truth with them, so that when they step out and take a different road it is a blessing. Others seem to always take the wrong way. But in a world where everyone tells you to watch out and not rock the boat, when is it time to dive into the water and yell, "It's alright! I can swim!"

So often I feel like I'm the guy in the boat trying to swim on land because I don't want anyone to worry. So instead of going where I belong, I rock the boat in my fiendishly savage attempts to conquer land-swimming. Maybe I'm not supposed to swim at all! But you see, there it is. If you are in the boat with a bunch of people that teach everyone to jump into the boat, to safety, you have to wonder if you're just crazy or one of the few sane.

Just when I think I understand, doubt rushes in like a cold winter wind: "Maybe you're right, but if you're wrong, you'll drown." I dunno, God: will I sink or swim? Or are you trying to teach me to walk on water?

Looking at blogs

Maybe I was a bit harsh. Maybe people blog because they are just searching for someone to hear them. We are told that the world is getting smaller, and we feel and see it as the digital age pulls the drawstrings of the world tightly into small bags. And yet, with all the claustrophobia we expect to feel, we still feel very much alone in the world. However easy communication and travel may be, the problem of figuring out who we are and what we are supposed to do with it is still tremendously difficult. Perhaps blogging is a way of screaming into the wind, throwing ourselves into the melee of voices hoping that someone will hear and understand us.

And willing to prostitute ourselves to do it.

And this blog?

So, after putting most bloggers into categories, where does this one fit? Well, most likely it's a Worshipper. I hope, though, that it contains something of the Reporter as well, producing some truth that is virtuous and honourable. Here you will find no pictures, and no prostitution. My hope is that this blog will be a service to someone, to the "homeless souls wandering the world". Reporters take note: I am not speaking of people who wander the streets without a roof over their head. Such people indeed need help and love....but this blog is not about them.

This blog is the inner heart of a wandering soul who has heard the cry of other wandering souls, a cry for hope, for security, for a home to rest and be at peace. We human beings were created (yes, created) with an innate longing for another place, not in space but in our souls. We long to be in union with the one who loved us first, so long ago. And yet, we are blinded by the savagery of our choices and those of the people around us, lead into the darkness and away from our security by the Evil Schemer's designs.

So let this blog stand as a voice of one who knows the way home, who cries out in the wilderness to speak of the one who will lead us home.

Why Blog?

This is my first post on Blogger. I have had other blogs, for various reasons, but being a recent Google convert, I decided to hop myself on over to Blogger as well. But I started thinking: why do people blog at all?


Of those that blog, people usually fall into one of a few categories. For simplicity's sake, we'll classify them as Reporters, Prostitutes, and Worshippers.

The Reporters

Reporters blog for one chief reason: to tell their audience about the world as they see it. Often rallying around a cause, they will post numerous pictures and write detailed accounts of their experiences and opinions. They feel that their opinion matters, but more importantly their cause matters. Unfourtunately, the only people who like to read these blogs are those who already support their cause or know them personally. To everyone else, it's just additional spittle in the rain of the world speech. It's too bad, really, because their cause is sometimes noble and valiant, worthy of recognition of the individual's involvement. But whether it has a virtuous sheen or not, it should be noted that these people feel their cause is important, and thus, they blog.

The Prostitutes

Prostitutes suffer from a common delusion. When I was younger, I used to make it my goal to sneak peeks into people's journals. I figured that if they were going to write their innermost thoughts down, then leave those thoughts in a book lying on their bed in their room, they actually wanted me to read it. As I became a man, I learned that these thoughts were written down for them to read themselves. So it would be wrong of me to read them because I am violating their privacy. Fair enough.

These blogging Prostitutes, however, write journals that are flagrantly personal and public, lying their innermost parts prostrate for the world to gaze on. They tear off their outermost garments of emotion and expose their private thoughts so the world knows what they are like underneath. Then, when you actually respond to their exposure, they react painfully like they have been violated. Well, as the monkey once said to the banana, "If you didn't want me to eat you, you should never have taken your skin off. It's much harder to eat you with your skin on."

But why? Why do decent people of various ages expose themselves like this? I can only think that they are trying to fulfill a basic human need: to be seen and heard. We have been taught that what is inside of us is special and important, but honestly most people would rather watch the news than hear about your thoughts and feelings. So in exposing their innards, blogger Prostitutes open themselves up and hope that someone cares about them enough to read and understand them.

The Worshippers

Worshippers center around a thing, an idea. They are like Reporters, but rather than discussing a cause, they pay homage to an object or idea. Porsche blogs, baby blogs, Apple-is-great blogs, and others like them call upon all readers to see how great and amazing their idol is, and may death and dismay fall upon anyone who dares to disagree. They have no interest in unbiased reporting, not even attempting to show truth as the Reporter would. Their only goal is to bring all others to worship the same icon of beauty and perfection that the blogger cherishes. These are incredibly boring and useless...unless, of course, you agree and follow in their idolatry.

So, what kind of blogger are you?

Control and Fear

The weak fear that which they cannot control. They feel that they are powerless to fight the people and events that seem to swing back and forth in the cavern of their lives, changing it without asking for permission. So they hide within the catacombs, seeking to escape the pendulum that relentlessly carves new niches. Some hide so deep that the pendulum's silence effects can no longer be felt...most of the time. And when it rocks the foundations of their burrow they scream out in fear, striking at anything within reach, clutching their dearest possessions--those few things that are small enough to hold on to.
   The strong control that which they fear. They feel they are powerful enough to contain the people and events that seem to etch out a new future in the cavern of the lives. They pack the catacombs with knowledge and power to keep the pendulum swinging where they will it. As it carves out the niches they desire, they seek to bring greater weapons into their realm; the silent thwacking of the pendulum is the music of their souls. But at times a great force wrenches the pendulum from their grasp and each new surface that is struck explodes with a power exponentially greater than the power buried there, opening new wounds that had not been understood before.
   But the truth is far beyond these. Both fear and control are relentless taskmasters, drivng us into a frenzied whirlwind if we hold on. But the funny thing about a whirlwind is that if we let go, we are free. If we understand that the cavern in which we live is simply one small part of the great honeycomb of time and space, we can be freed from the vicious circle that entombs us. However, we must take care that when we are flung out of the deep, we take time to study the honeycomb. We will then find the truth, the source of all our wisdom, if we are brave and humble enough to see it. If we do not, if we screw our eyes shut or obstinately look only in the direction we choose, we will miss the great wonder.
   So look with me for a moment, and see the great mystery unfold. For in every cavern there is a great wind, filling every available space. When neccesary it is a gale, but at other times it is a gentle whisper. The blowing of the wind across the surface reveals a face. It is the face of the one who possesses the winds that drive the pendulum. It is the visage of he who fashioned the caverns, etching his countenance on each surface. And it is he who catches the far-flung ones and reveals his face.
   And when I look on the Great One, Lord of Hosts, I see that his face is littered with blotches of brown and pus-filled yellow where the Evil One has been at work, distorting the dwellers and clouding their minds. Then the Lord's eyes fill with tears, glistening with blood-drops. As they trail down his face, the path that is left in its flooded wake has been cleared of blemishes--made new. The winds are calm for a moment, slowed by the passing of the tears. Then, slowly but surely, they start the pendulums again.
   Then he gently lowers me down, safely back in my cave. My pendulum returns to its job of carving out my life. I quaver, unsure whether to run in fear or attempt to control the swinging. And I feel the cool breeze.... I climb the wall of my domicile to get a stronger breeze. I do not run, I do not hide, I keep my hands calm. Instead, I watch as the Great Wind etches out my future. And I am at peace.