Tree, Wood, Lumber, log

For me taking a tree, removing the branches, and splitting it into boards is such an intimate, rich experience with the complex beauty that God created. If I had merely considered it a resource to be used, I would have bought wood that had been sawed by a machine, and dried in a kiln. The encounter would have been missed.

I sometimes get pulled into the idea that wood is a simple homogenous substance, but it is really a beautiful, complex teamwork of fibers, moisture, tubes, sap and the occasional bug. Different woods have a special snap when they are split. A find dust is dispersed into the air. The aroma of the sap is wonderful.

The Entire World

Sometimes people lie to their kids. It seems that this is most often dismissed as okay when the child asks an awkward question.

Imagine being a kid. There is so much that goes over your head. You want to learn and be included. You ask an honest question with complete sincerity. You get lied to. You remember this lie. When you are older you are confronted with the truth. This maybe the first time you started thinking that your parents are liars.

You are an adult. Imagine a child asks you a hard question. You don’t want to be transparent. You don’t think it is appropriate for the child to hear the full answer. You don’t want to lie. “But it’s only a child,” you think, “He might totally forget about it.”

I think Abraham told an amazing truth to the hard question that Isaac asked on the way to the sacrifice. The full truth was, Isaac was the sacrifice. Abraham’s answer wasn’t full disclosure. This difference between withholding information and deceiving is importing in avoiding lies. Abraham didn’t have to be totally open, but totally honest. His answer was a resounding truth. (It was also on topic. I don’t think that an appropriate answer to, “Where do babies come from?” is, “Christ died for your sins, son.”)

It may not have been difficult for Abraham to come up with this answer. It was the truth behind Abraham’s action. It was the truth behind pretty much his entire life. He left his homeland believing that God would provide a new home. He had belief that God would provide him a son in the first place. He had belief that God could resurrect his son. He believed that God would provide.

Wow. No wonder he was chosen to be a blessing to the whole world through his descendants.

Wild Grapes or Chemistry in My Kitchen

My lips itch. My hands itch too.

I found a beautiful wild grape vine. I saw grape clusters near me. I looked else where and there were more. This vine had produced richly.

I researched what was edible and found that all grapes are. There is a plant called moonseed that has fruit that looks similar to grape. It has a singular moon shaped seed, and is poisonous. The grape seeds are tear shaped and usually are more than one per grape.

The disgusting white of my supermarket bag veiled the purple of the grapes that were quickly filling it. Home I went. At first I used a blender and cloth to grind and strain the grapes. My hands itched. I was anxious that it was the wrong plant or I was reacting allergic. In an hour or so the itching left. I drank the juice will no ill effect.

Today, I pulled the grapes from the vine, my fingers purple. I looked at the white powder coating the grape. I’m told this is yeast. In places it was rubbed off, replaced by the shiny taught skin of the grape. Some of the grapes had bugs in them. These were shriveled or oozed dark juice. I was not living in a glass box. I was not living with industry imposed standards of no bugs. I was experiencing wild grapes. The bug free grapes felt hard with the tension inside. I was freshly experiencing the plant that becomes the drink that Jesus used as a representation of his blood.

This time I used a juicer.

“This grape juice is so acidic,” I thought, “That has to by why my hands itch. I wonder if it is as acidic as vinegar?” I remember the volcano experiment from grade school. The vinegar and baking soda mixed with a bubbling reaction. They were neutralizing each other. Carbon dioxide was produced. Did I remember right?

The little pile of baking soda blended in with the white ceramic bowl. What a stark contrast the grape juice made. It bubbled immediately. Then it turned blue. From purple to blue, I never knew. It really is a mystery. I wanted a drink, it made me think. I’m a part of grape history.

Don’t puke in that bucket.

I have phone anxiety. I sometimes, being faced with the need to contact someone, email because it is less personal, less confrontational. I am allowed the false comfort of putting off the development of my social skills, the maturity of personal issues and the other unknown but extensive benefits of verbally encountering another person.

Stretching often has the appearance and initial affect of being undesirable. (What I need to do is not look at the struggle but the result of engaging the struggle. Doing this also makes it so much easier to choose joy.)

I have heard of a creative way that some people have used to redistribute money. This way is as simple as a group of buckets that receive money from people who want to give. People who need money go to the buckets and take what they need.

I think that this is a neat, creative method, but what I think should not be left behind is the challenging method of getting people to give money or resources directly to each other. I think this forces people to address fears, insecurities, and worries.

For example one might be afraid to admit need. One might be embarrassed to give . People tackling (perhaps even choosing joy in) these struggles can be helpful for many. Those who experience the struggle can grow and those who witness it may grow also.

Listen

Oh, Frankie and I had quite the battle. I have been, as of late, getting off of my bottom to engage in some stick to teeth combat with a snake. My friends and supporters have informed me that the Frankster was not just any old slithery fellow. He was a real life aggressive Blue Razor. Please don’t mistake the similarity of his name with the very non deadly razor cell phone, or the potentially painful but not venomous razor foldable scooter. Frankers can pack a serious bite, and grow up to eight feet long. He has a very intimidating grey-ish blue color. He rattles his tail as a defense mechanism.

It was exciting. Frank found his way into the garage. I was using a long thin piece of wood to coax him from behind two stowed tables. I was jumping and yelling, “Oo!” He was slithering and hiding. He didn’t flee. I didn’t flee. I finally carried him with my death wand and placed him in the most humane way possible on the ground.

He tried to hide in the front of the car. His slender head poked through the holes in the bumper. I jumped in triumph with my muscles bulging.

The stories of my scars

Do, do, do, la, la, la, la, do, do. As the world has spun on its slant axis, many odd objects have found themselves in violent encounter with my largest organ, these are The Stories of My Scars.

My brother graduated high school in the mid 1990s. He went to college. My world was still filled with Ninja Turtles. In college he had his ears pierced. I remember thinking that getting a piercing was very cool.

Some how I had the idea that you could pierce your finger or toe. I had already pierced my fingernail. It wasn’t legitimate enough, my nail piercing.

In the cold snowy winters, after a while of playing, my toes would be numb. I felt that this was the perfect chance to pierce the edge my toe.

I had heard of people using safety pins to pierce their belly buttons. I just used whatever pin I could find.

Fortunately I am not a tough guy. The pin, being pressed into my toe, hit a spot a little too deep for my comfort. So I pushed it through the outer part of my skin that has less feeling. I never planned out how I would leave the pin in place so that the hole would heal. I think I just took it out because I knew that it wasn’t deep enough. I know I tried this between my toes and thumbs three or four times.

So to be completely transparent these aren’t really scars. They did leave scars at the time but they have been erased.

Scars that have been erased, scars that have been erased...

Apples and Oranges

The Art Prize is coming to Grand Rapids, MI. It is here, really. A 30,000 Pound Chair that will have a matching table is being installed atop of a downtown bridge.
This competition is being hailed as a great competition. It will bring art from around the world to west Michigan. It is judge by the public. It has a non-traditional method of admission. There is no jury or submission of slides. The artist has to get in touch with a local businesses within the perimeters set downtown .
This seems good. Anyone can enter. It frees the artist from the system of critics and the art elite.
I think that the art prize is what the art world doesn't need. ( I don't think it is harmful, but it doesn't help the situation.) The problem with art today is that there is no clear distinction placed on what is made. I have read art criticism books that speak of judging art by one context or another. But very few people care to take the time to find out what is behind different forms of art. I have heard phrases like, "I just don't get it", or "I don't see how that's art".
If one goes to an art museum a 3,000 year old artifact is just down the hall from 50 year old oil paintings. These things are divided by period but it lacks true distinction. It is all termed art.
In Grand Rapids at the Frederick Meijer Gardens and Sculpture Park, the roughly 2 story Da Vinci horse is just down the path from welded I-beams. There is no attention given to the motives, intentions, or general context that these radically different objects have been created with.
Art doesn't need less distinction but more. Painting and sculpture needs something other than being thrown together with dancing, and music in a category labeled "The Arts". I would like a distinction between splatter painting, technical realism, and 30,000 pound chairs, not because I think that some art should be excluded or discouraged but rather that these things that people are making should be set into context. How can the megalithic sculpture and the still life painting or the installation be judged in the same contest for a very large sum of money?
Perhaps critics, professors and artist do give distinction, but I'm not sure that the general public (who will be judging this contest) does much thinking, if any, about art. Perhaps in freeing the contest from the critics and art elite, one is taking the art out of the hands of the people who care about art and into the laps of people who don't.
I am critiquing this contest but the issue seems bigger than one contest. It encompasses terms like "The Arts" and institutions that tear artwork out of it's context with little clue for the viewer what the work is all about.

The stories of my (brother's) scars.

Do, do, do, la, la, la, la, do, do. As the world has spun on its slant axis, many odd objects have found themselves in violent encounter with my (brother's) largest organ, these are:

The Stories of My (Brother's) Scars.

my brother (Braden) and I used to bike a lot together growing up. we would go out into the hills or build jumps in our yard. it was much fun. one day we decided to bike into town, which is like a 2 mile ride. he was leading the way and i decided that i would try and ride as close behind him as possible in order to draft off of him. it was going really well. i was concentrating intently on the back of his bike in order to stay close but not run into him. we were almost into town, and the next thing i knew was all of the sudden his bike had slowed immensely, i reached for the brake, but it was too late. i ran into the back of him. i felt a sharp pain in my finger and looked down and saw my finger beginning to bleed. it had gotten pinched between my bike and his bike. fear and panic began to well up in me. "braden!" he looked back with a surprised look and proceeded to lead me to the mcdonalds which was just a little ways away. he told me to wait outside while he went inside to get something for my finger. i waited and waited, for what seemed like forever. my finger dripped and dripped blood onto the sidewalk. people walked by, looking at the puddle of blood in discust. i think i probably ruined some peoples' lunch... i felt strange, bleeding there onto the sidewalk, not knowing what to do, not sure where my brother was, people walking by and looking yet not doing anything about this child who was bleeding by himself. finally my brother came out. we wrapped my finger in toilet paper and rode back home.

Oh, I can totally hear his young voice yelling, "Braden". Thanks for the Story. I remember there was a guy in the bathroom for a long time and I couldn't get in it. I should have got some napkins from the counter. I didn't realize I was gone long until I saw that puddle of blood. "Oops", I thought, "Let's get out of here."

Thanks Again.

Waste not, want more. We're Americans.

The pages feel remarkably new on a 14 year old copy of the magazine Family Circle. The pictures have an unnameable quality, I can’t pin point it, they just look old. Some times a hair do or old looking clothes dates the publication, but mostly it is something else.

The car ads sell “new anti-lock brakes”.

There are many happy, beautiful women smoking. I don’t find cigarette ads like I used to.

I read an article about reusing items from around the house. One reader wrote in to share a great use for the plastic part at the bottom of 2 liter pop bottles. What? Oh, I had completely forgotten how pop bottles used to have a black cap shaped piece at the bottom. I remember that they were hard to get off.

Do you remember that?

none

Jeremy asked me “Are you egalitarian?”

“No,” I said, “I’m head/body.”
What is head/body like? Well it is not complementarian or egalitarian.

Complementarian is a master-servant relationship. Egalitarian is two colleagues.
Complementarian is two separate people, one ruling the other. Egalitarian is two separate people, co-leading somewhat democratically.

Head/body or headship is a mystery of two people becoming one, being lead by God, the Spirit. Complementarian and Egalitarian are modeled by governments and human institutions. Head/Body is modeled by the Father and Son.

I think that it is big

I have been listening to the audio book “Jesus Wants to Save Christians” by Robert Homes Bell, Jr. and Don Golden.

It is a book that rejects American Imperialism by, among other things, comparing it to Pharaoh’s enslavement of the Israelites.

A simple review of the line of thought is: the people of Israel were slaves under an oppressive system. The Lord opposes oppressive systems such as Pharaoh’s Egypt. The Lord freed Israel and taught them how to live a non-oppressive life, culture, system. In the time of Solomon, Israel had become the “new Egypt” - an oppressive system like the one they were rescued from.

Solomon even used slaves to build the temple. He became an arms dealer, importing and exporting chariots and horses. While this oppressive system existed, Solomon and the people rejected God. Because the Israelites rejected God they were lead into exile.

Later, Israel had taken the law that was to teach them how to live, and made it into its own oppressive system. Jesus came to free Israel and the world from these systems.

I don’t remember if this is in the book, but what is so amazing is that Jesus not only offers freedom from sin, he offers co-heir-ness.

God’s way is not communism where people are equal and ruled by a leader.

God’s way is not a democracy - equal rights, equal voice in choosing the leader.

On earth, men cling fiercely to power. People crush insurrectionists. People kill colleagues, friends and family members for positions of leadership and power.

Early Americans at least believed that people were competent enough to choose the one who would rule them.

Jesus goes way beyond this in saying that we (the church, the saints, the believers) will rule with him and even judge angels. This is far beyond even the loftiest goals and aspirations of human systems.

Jesus offers us the opportunity to live in this system.

As I post this I understand that I am talking in general terms that can be problematic. My goal is to illuminate the outstanding notion of reigning with God.

Slackline Living (balance)

This is about being grateful.

I find it so fascinating that if you are reading this blog it is more than likely that you were born rich. I was born rich, filthy rich. I had candy on a regular basis. I had so many toys that it became amusing to destroy them. (Honestly I never broke my toys on purpose, but it seems that many of my peers did at some level.) I got new shoes every school year. I always had a warm coat, always a full stomach. I went to school.

What are the implications of being over privileged from birth? A heightened tendency towards selfishness, greed, un-thankfulness, becoming jaded are a few of the tendencies that I see. Now read that list with the knowledge that I don't have much to compare it to. I haven't spent much time with people that haven't grown up rich. Perhaps people who are living in situations where basic needs aren't being fully met have an equal infusion of everything on that list. I imagine that Jesus has a few things to say here. I apologize for not doing the research to put them here.

I listened to a book that said that the wealthy have what they have so that they may use it to help those who don't have.

What I am going to attempt I heard from a man named Shane Hipps. He told me to experience something in this way: Eat a treat like it is the last one you will have. (I might add, like you have never had it before.) Take the pleasure rumbling in your mouth and move it to your heart. Feel thanksgiving.

What I think that I am going to add is to do that often, to all of the rich things that I regularly encounter. I don't want to forget that I am rich, or worse to begin to think that I need or deserve it or that I earned it. I do want to enjoy it fully and healthily.

eah?

Hi , this is not that interesting but it is something to think about. It seems to me that some pastors come up with the topics for their sermons primarily by looking at issues in life and then finding scripture that addresses it. Other pastors primarily look at scriptures and try to apply it to life issues. I can recall effective and ineffective sermons from both approaches. Can you?