a pale reflection.

these are a few thoughts passed between a friend and i. i hope they are as beneficial to your hearts as it was his.

friend: hey man just thought i would write you a quick note...just about what i've been thinking about...

the Lord's Prayer is something that turns up quite a lot some of my classes...and i just got to thinking about the words, and really think about what i am praying...and i guess the part i struggle with is "Thy Kingdom come..." its like i agree with everything in the prayer but i think this part is difficult because i am like yeah i want the Second coming...but where the trouble comes in is i want it to come when it is convenient for me...i mean i want to live life, grow up...get married, have sex...and all that...so that is something i have been thinking about...

myself: your question is huge. its one that i definitely don't have the answer too. i have my own perspective and thats what i will give you...

kristin's greatest dream is to be with God. her fulfillment in life is to honor Him. she has rarely felt remorse for leaving the things of this earth to go to see God. myself on the other hand sit in your shoes. i want sex. i want kids. i want to see my brothers get married. i enjoy this life. and i've learned a few things about this life. the reason i enjoy it so much and am hesitant to leave it is because its a reflection of God's goodness. if i had the opportunity to experience all of Gods goodness at once (personally sex is what im thinking) than i would jump at it. with reckless abandon. well i've slowly learned that the goodness of this earth is a pale reflection of the heaven we inherit. the sex, the life, the fulfillment and enjoyment is lame and shallow in comparison to the emotional ecstasy, spiritual ecstasy and most of all the physical ecstasy. the reason im hesitant to leave this earth's pleasures is because i don't have the perspective or am unwilling to admit that this earths pleasures are teh basic unembellished version of heavenly pleasures. so whats my point. how does the knowledge of heaven being better than earth change my expectation or desire.

the answer is. slowly. through prayer. through reading. through intimacy with God in obedience will our desires slowly shift to a spiritual completion rather than a physical completion. its taken years and i often cling to the desire to make love to kristin over seeing my Savior. but the more keenly i understand my utter failure as a holy man and my desperate need for Christ's sacrifice and forgiveness do i desire to be with Him.

i believe we were given sex, love, purpose, career fulfillment, friendship to keep us on this earth long enough to do God's will. so do not run from pleasure, embrace, partake of it (in the sanctity of God's law) but know its source and steer your hearts desire to swim in the ocean not drink from a stream.

clinks in an empty well.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate but that we are powerful beyond all measure." -Marianne Williamson

i believe their are varied depths to the soul. not that the soul is shallower in some and deeper in others but that the soul is seen in different depths by different people. almost like a well in which we toss our change or draw our water. each person possess a different amount of silver, a unique color of water, a secret beast. have you looked into yours? does it glimmer? does it echo? is it empty?

we walk around so often and touch people. watch people. taste people. but it is a rare chance that we know people. because to know someone is to see the knowledge that they themselves posses of who they are. and if the people we interact with are uncertain or unknowing or shallow than it is impossible to know them because they do not yet know themselves.

true knowledge of a thing is to receive a resonance of understanding from itself. a tree does not doubt that it has roots or produces seeds and it attempts no other purpose. if you struggle with the connection from an inanimate object than try a mentally ill individual. to hold a conversation is comparable to containing water in oiled hands. you may act. you may interact. but you do not resonate because the soul in which you are attempting to connect or touch is disconnected from even the possessor.

the soul is a thing rarely understood. the tick, not the gears or the hands or the face but the tick is what puzzles. to know a person is to know their soul. but you are unable to know a person who does not yet know themselves.

to know who you are you must peer deep into oneself and whisper a terrifying question. a question that you will begin to understand few have asked. few possess the courage. the bravery necessary to ask..."are you there?"

now through this muddled conversation i have but one point. the one originally written and really only the latter of that sentence. "we are powerful beyond all measure." because for the majority they are not apart of the "we". they are in fact inadequate. as equipped or strong as they believe themselves to be they are neither. but merely shells. merely people of emptiness. struggling to pour materials, emotions, beliefs, prayers into something that holds none of them.

now the "we." the powerful. the mighty. we are men or women of God. i am a man of God. i am filled with an unquestionable presence. a dominating mass. i do not exist without the presence of the Holy Ghost. my face is unchanged. my fingerprints the same. but me. "we." my tick. our ticks. my soul. our souls. are now things of unconquerable. unmeasurable. uncontainable power that only a God can be the source.

the fear is reasonable. logical even. if created by a thing. and inhabited by a thing. than we possess their qualities. and a quality of our possessor is power. power beyond all measure. but that is not the trick. not to understand we are vessels or a tools. we have been given hands for a reason. a tongue to use. feet to use. a heart to use. we have not only been filled but blessed with multiple faucets of which to pour. but the trick...

the trick is tapping into it.

a love story.

Once upon a time…there was a charming prince who decided to take his beautiful princess on their very first adventure of a new life together.

The adorable couple left Saturday afternoon, August 1^st, 2009, driving Luna, their sturdy steed, to visit the prince’s family up north at Lake Ann Camp. On the way up they listened to a cd of their favorite songs Zack made and dreamed about their future together. The pair pulled into the camp around 6:30pm and met Becky (Zack’s mom/the Queen) at their cabin, which Zack left shortly after to help his dad build paintball forts for their paintball game the next day (which was entirely not true). Becky and Kristin got dressed for the nice dinner they were going out to later and then drove up to see the progress the boys were making. Meanwhile, up at the “paintball field,” Zack, Kent, and his brothers were arranging Pine Chapel for the engagement.

Becky drove Kristin to Pine Chapel, which is situated in a large pine forest at the edge of Lake Ann Camp. Becky stopped the car, led Kristin to the path, hugged her, told her she loved her, and then left her at the start of the winding trail that led to the chapel.

The path started with an envelope and scattered rose petals. The envelope contained a picture of Zack holding a sign with the letter “I” at the park where he asked Kristin to be his girlfriend four years ago. She then walked down the path and encountered five more envelopes, the second at the field where they had their first kiss with him holding a sign saying “WILL”. The third picture was of Zack holding a sign with the word “LOVE” at the overlook where he told Kristin he loved her. The fourth picture was of him holding a sign with the word “YOU” at a park downtown in Holland where they had their first date. The fifth picture was of Zack at his grandparent’s beach, a place very dear to the couple, holding a sign that said “FOREVER.”

The fifth envelope was at the start of the final walk. The path was marked with rose petals and lined with clear vellum bags with votive candles inside. Each bag had something Zack loved about Kristin on it. Kristin slowly made her way, reading each bag, absorbing the romance, until she was to a circle of bags with the final envelope. The final envelope was empty and had a Polaroid camera next to it for her to take the final picture. Zack then stepped out from behind a tree holding the last sign, which read “MARRY ME MARIE.”

He asked her to take the last picture with the five previous signs nailed on trees behind him (“I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER”) and with him holding his final sign, “MARRY ME MARIE.” The picture didn’t take (they got it later though!), and being so impatiently excited Zack told her to forget it. She promptly did so and jumped into his strong, muscular, tan arms.

Zack, after he had kissed her, slowly kneeled with ring in his hands. He proceeded with roughly the following proposal: “Kristin, I promise you that I will love you and no one else forever. I don’t want another girl to start a family and honor God with. Kristin, will you marry me? Please?” As you can imagine, Kristin could in no way turn down such an amazing, magical, perfect offer and responded with a very elated “YES!”

The charming prince and beautiful princess shared a few more delightful kisses before ringing a large bell, signaling the arrival of beaming Dad, Mom, and Brothers Wallace. The rest of the fairytale night included a fancy, family dinner and a prayerful walk around Lake Ann Camp with memories and dreams galore.

The jubilation carried through to the next day where a surprise engagement party thrown by Kristin's family awaited the couple when they arrived home. All of Kris's friends thought they were surprising her for a back-to-school party when instead they were surprised by the new "bling" on her left hand. The rest of the day was spent in engagement bliss with Dad, Mom, and Brother Merkle (Jackie & Lance too). It was a perfect ending to a perfect weekend.

Zackary and Kristin are hoping for a summer wedding in 2010 if the Lord so wills. They request prayer for Zack to find work in Chicago and for them to draw closer to God as they draw closer to one another.

The charming prince and beautiful princess are currently living happily ever after…

mustard.

I was talking with a brother. Drifting through uncertainties of our future, memories of our past, dreams of tomorrow, pain from yesterday and through the haze of comfortable conversation formed an image.

That image was a seed. A small and bitter thing. a thing with time grows roots and strengthens. From those roots comes a beautiful catastrophe of earthquakes and mountain moving. That seed, capable of tremendous influence. Capable of creating a movement through generations. Holds the power to rip lives apart…

Sits in our refrigerators. A yellow spread accentuated perfectly with a pickle. Mustard.

We drifted, as I said, and the conversation moved to smaller then deeper than larger than smaller again and eased into the peace of steady breath and serotonin rejuvenation.

But that seed clings to my heart and makes me wonder. The power of a thing without substance. Not like air or time but of an unequivocal depth.

A thing to kill children for.

A thing to breathe for.

A thing to walk into fire for.

A thing to open arms to knives for.

A thing to weep for.

A thing of sacrifice.

A thing of hope.

A thing of life.

Faith. God’s fingerprint on our heart.

Faith. A mustard seed can move mountains. A belief that provides the power to overcome fundamental beliefs, cultural limits, primal rules.

I evaluate my heart often. I feel it provides for an honest opinion on what I do everyday. But I'm always left at the question how large is my faith. How deep is my faith. How powerful is my faith.

If my faith is large, deep and powerful than I am no longer touched by the insecurities of this temporal sphere. I become a man so resonant with the assurance of my Lord Jesus that death; pain, misfortunate, poverty, illness, disparity, wellness, prosperity, goodness and blessings no longer hold sway over my heart.

I desire to have one desire. yellow faith. Dripping off of my fingers. So soaked that nothing I touch or see is every dry again.

I want to move mountains. Even if its only the mountain of doubt in my life.

rivers.

im staring at this white box. thinking all sorts of clever things, unfortunately nothing original. its amazing how often we can remember other peoples creativity and brilliance. 

so as my dull and monotonous mind mulls things over like leaves and why the change color or why mosquitos have to replace the blood they take with irritating poison or why music can take the edge off a mood or why death is such a fascinating idea or why a blue sky is a lullaby and a star filled night a symphony or the sadness involved in the ability to talk with a stranger for ages but only a few minutes with a friend.

i guess through this myriad of randomness a contended haze fills my head. and i realize its okay to be blank. sometimes life slows down and its okay to drift.

rivers are a cool parallel. they rush and smash into rocks, beating things into oblivion while furiously pushing on. they slow down, lazily carrying themselves along. they fall and fall and fall to crash onto the rocks breaking themselves and swirling only to emerge strong. they dam up and pause, slowing to a trickle. but they consistently move, the pace changes, the things they carry vary but their always progressing. 

our life will move. whether we physically do or not, the earth turns. our life's pace alters from second to second. a rush to a trickle. a trickle to a steadiness. a steadiness to a fall. a fall to a rush. and so it goes. 

so when it slows learn to drift. when it rushes learn to breathe. when it falls learn to laugh. and when its steady appreciate what was and anticipate what is to come. 

the queen.

so my lovely girlfriend. (and when i say lovely i mean an adorable brown hair, blue eyed angel with the most horrific tendency to physically abuse me at a whims notice) so her. the beautiful doll of everlasting torment told me a story this evening. 

a small girl in her mother's library enjoys coloring. apparently she's quite creative. so magically inventive in fact that elizabeth taylor has decided to purchase them to decorate a children's museum. to which information i replied, "O, I was unaware the queen enjoyed art." 

the following interaction ensued...i laughed heinously in my chair with lovely abuser pounding away at my unprotected spleen, liver and other vital bodily parts.

for this story to be humorous. you have to know that elizabeth taylor is in fact not the queen of england but an actress and only an immature, sleep deprived, under paid delinquent would find it so amusing as to infuriate his beloved with such idiocy. so this post is for my sake. to remember and appreciate. 

and for you. i have only this tidbit of insight...toothpaste.

cyborgs.

ah. the enhancement of technology. the neural network of detachment. the fear of morality drives the imagination to prevent our eternal sleep. why lay down at 80 when you can run at 100? o your knees don't work? no worries. we have a pair in stock. bit by bit. you're replaced, "enhanced." 

where is the line. when your hips, knees, hearts, and eyes have all been replaced. when are you no longer? is it your fingerprints? your voice? your thoughts? where is the line of uniqueness. the specific part that can't be upgraded or replaced because it defines you? is there one?

so now i can leap a 100 feet. hold my breathe for 10 minutes. see in the dark ( i know you're devastated that those stars on your ceiling would become obsolete). my daily sustanence is a grape and quart of motor oil.  i am efficient and equipped. all happiness and opportunity at my feet. but if i limit my unhappiness. my obstacles. my hinderances. does my joy diminish? 

happiness and hinderance are correlated. i can't summit without a mountain. good is dependent on bad. in my limitations i am unique. eliminate my faults and i become merely a wave pounding the surf. 

there will be a day. when the enticement of enhancement will no longer exist. it will become a necessity for survival. and all men will become super. 

and if we were all supermen. than we would lose the man. 

 "...I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin...I'm claiming the right to be unhappy...not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphillis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen tomorrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind."

-Aldous Huxley, 

Brave New World

erasers.

i have pencils. the tools of sanity. i remember the first one i learned to write my name with. it was yellow and triangle. apparently  egronomical. at 7 i thought that meant cool. at 20 i still do.

but its ergonomics (though duly noticed and appreciated) aren't what always strike me about pencils. its the pink nubs of power at the end of each. the freedom to write with the rubber rationale of simple and effective redos. 

we often hold this tool where words, thoughts, fears, hopes can crawl from our mouths, down our arms, slide through our pencils and drag themselves onto the paper in their dull and annoyingly smudge prone characters. but with our hearts in our hands we are never truly defenseless. never truly vulnerable. 

is that what gives us courage? the awareness of an escape if needed. does it opens our minds. does it free our fingers to pick up that splinter of aromatic nostalgia. is that my armor. my shield. my lubricant. my empowerment. not the pencil but the eraser. the awareness that regardless of my vulnerability, its never permanent. 

so i sit. with a pencil. and paper. eraser ripped in half on the floor. begging to protect. and my heart steps out. timidly. hesitant in the first letters. but those first twists and scrapes of graphite onto recycled lines. liberate. 

my respect for speech now deepens. for the truth that James emparts. 

the power of my tongue. to love or kill. without a net to stop the drop.

i step through each day. with an eraser on my pencil but only lead in my mouth. 

and its more than liberation. 

its responsibility.