To infinity- and beyond!

If only we lived our Christians lives with unmoving, child-like faith of Buzz Lightyear. As this semester and school year closes, another part of our life will begin. It's planning time. What do you have planned for the summer? What about the fall? How do you plan on paying for your loans after you graduate? How do you plan to become involved in the ministry?

Let's admit it. Sometimes as we begin laying out our plans for the future, the uncertain becomes intimidating. We become so focused on laying out the blue prints for this temporary life that we forget what this temporary life is for... preparing for our eternal one!

We plan for a successful marriage, our children, and our adventures around the world, and yes, we can't give on looking towards the future, but we also can't forget about looking forward to what lies beyond the future.

Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen.

1 Timothy 1:17

Our God

Tonight God has done amazing things here at CBC. He is God. What else can be said? He is God. The God who, brings comfort to the suffering. The God who unites broken hearts so they can help heal each other's wounds. There is nothing new here to learn. Only a reminder of his faithfulness, strength, and love.

Let there be...

Black. Imagine blackness before you. Pure blackness. You feel your eyeballs moving around in their sockets, but there is no sensation of form or color. There is nothing. You decide not to feel about, in fear of what is around you. But then, as quickly as light travels, appears a crack of white. A door opens, spilling in light into the darkness and before you is a room full of color, of paintings, and good furniture. Light pours out. Everywhere the light goes, an another item is illuminated. It is revealed.

The analogy might seem strange to some, but it speaks deeply to me, for there are many time I feel that way... that there is a moment of blackness. I search, but see and feel nothing. Yet once the light comes in, I realize that everything I needed was there inside all along. I just need the light to show me.

To Worry, or Not to Worry

Forward. It is the only place left to go. Shall we descend into the chasing blackness behind us? No, forward we go, even into the unknown. Mourn for awhile if you must, but then let the dead bury the dead. Forward we must go, yes, even into the unknown.

It's a worrisome life we live. The strain of college, the fear of the future, and how we'll pay for our loans. Payments on car insurance. Medical bills. Pressure to find a secure group of friends. Relationships. Break ups. Seeking God. And on top of our long list of to-do's we add: must worry.

We shouldn't worry. Worrying hurts. It's enshrouds. It kills. It's even a scientific study that stress (while it is a natural release of adrenaline that is used in situations of danger) when weighed upon an individual for an increased amount of time significantly deteriorates their health and well-being. But we do it any--almost compulsively.

Even as Christians we are taught not to worry. Jesus says in Matthew 6:25-27, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable then they. Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?"

The question, is: Then what are we to do? A few verses down Jesus answers this question: "But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." It's obvious that this doesn't mean that as long as you seek God you don't have to do your homework, go to work, or pay your bills. This simple means that at the very top of your long to do list, cross out where it says "must worry" and write "trust Him".

At the Musuem

Amongst the flurry of colors and shadows that banner across the egg-shell white walls of the museum, I find many subjects to tear apart at my discretion. I'm not particularly skilled at giving an objective opinion when it comes to art. I simply know what I like and what I don't like and it has nothing to do with subtle hues of impressionism or the ridiculous abstract sculptures that I can't make any sense out of. There were many times I found myself irritated at what looked to me like a dried, wrinkled sheet of paper with dark, muddied colors lazily slushed across the page. At other times I would start at an image that seemed to be someone's excuse to let their nightmarish imaginations out onto paper. Distorted faces, mixed with strange, surreal concepts- no, not in a Salvador Dali type of way- but in a childish fashion that did not quite hint towards any artistic technique.

Okay, I know I'm being very critical. In fact, I can guarantee you, I'm probably just not looking deep enough to find the true meaning behind a lot of these pieces. There were many works of art that I was attracted to, and did appreciate- such as the meticulous and detailed workmanship of the Asia exhibition, or the wonderful graphite drawings by Frederick Mershimer of my hometown New York City. I suppose art is a lot deeper than a wrinkled up sheet of paper with a few smears of paint. It's quite similar to life, really. It's not about what is actually on the page, it's about how you see the wrinkled up sheet up paper with the splattered paint.

Pennies From Heaven

Oh every time it rains
It rains pennies from heaven
Don't you know each cloud contains
Pennies from heaven
You'll find your fortune
Fallin' all over town
Be sure that your umbrella is upside down
Trade them for a package of sunshine and flowers
It you want the things you love
You must have showers
So when you hear it thunder
Don't run under a tree
There'll be pennies from heaven
For you and me.

This is from the song Pennies From Heaven, sung by the legendary Billie Holiday. While the lyrics carry a heavy load of hackneyed expressions such as "rain for flowers", the message is a good one, and the tune is smooth enough to soothe your aching soul. The rain, which she refers to as pennies from heaven, has several different connotations. The use of pennies has this sense of worthlessness, but at the same time treasure and value when in vast numbers. This metaphor helps the listener understand what sort of perspective the singer is looking at their circumstances from.

Ironic, though, that Billie Holiday would sing such a light-hearted song, while her life would later on become riddled with drug use, heavy drinking, and abusive relationships. It's still a nice idea, I suppose. But then again, it's silly if you think about it. Pennies falling from the sky? Wouldn't that hurt terribly, smacking us on our heads?

Valentine

We fight like cats and dogs, you and I, but there is no doubt, that if I were to spend the rest of my life fighting someone, I'd want it to be you, just so that if I were to spend the rest of my like making up with someone, then it would be with you too. I can barely stand to talk to you sometimes, but you're always the first one I want to call and tell the news. Sounds a little weird and crazy, but I'm crazy, crazy, crazy in love.

I'm sorry, I know our love is unconventional and unfit for the heart-shaped sugar cookies and swirly, red greeting cards. Even so, will you buy into the conventions and commercialism, just for a day, and be my Valentine?

The Principle of the Path

There is a path, and I am walking on it. During the sunshine I stroll. Sometimes during the night I run for fear. During a storm I tread carefully, for my footing is unsure. Whatever circumstance that crosses the path, I am constantly moving, like a pilgrim to their holy place.

There is something inside of me that keeps me going-- a steady beat that I must keep up with. And It grows stronger with every step.

By this path are sign posts, worn and battered by the passing winds. They have no direct labelings, but you can tell by their appearance what message they are giving. You see, these signs were once men and women. Long ago, these men decided they no longer wanted to journey on. They stood still, merely facing the direction they were once headed. Slowly, the steady beating inside faded, and they grew into their surroundings. You will see many of these on your way. They are almost colorless, unsaturated. . . Like a faded, black and white photograph, taken of the very moment they took their last step.

The mother with her baby in her arms, green vines crawling up her feet and ankles, stands cold and composed like an ancient marble pillar. Though her monumental figure has been worn by time, you can see marks that were there long before time stood still. A soft shade of blue under her eye. . . a blush of red across the cheek. Silent, yet she speaks. What does she have to say? Her eyes will say it all. The baby in her arm is also silent. She too is cold and unmoving.

I have passed many of these sign posts along the way. Sometimes I am sure their phantom figures are moving along side me, trying to pull me into their mossy graves. It is only a figment of my imagination, though. I am safe on this path if I keep my step. Often on a day rough for traveling I question my journey. I wonder when my wanderings will come to an end and I will have found my home. There are many times I pity myself-- here I am a poor, tired traveler. I have had no time to collect any possessions for myself or stop and build a place of rest. But that doesn't really matter, does it? For though I may be a poor traveler, I have a path and a step, like a drummer has a beat. And it grows stronger with every step.

The Urn

They're perfect. I'm talking about the "beautiful people" I see walking briskly across campus to conquer their next mission- their next stepping stone in life. Alright, obviously, I know they're not perfect, but from the outside- they seem awfully close. When I say "beautiful", I don't always mean appearance wise, although quite commonly the ones that come to mind are neatly groomed and polished, with a stylishly colorful and appropriate outfit on. I mean beautiful on the inside. They're role models. Poised. Confident. Happy. Self-controled. Reliable. Caring. Nurturing. They are of their own breed. I am not so naive as to truly believe that everyone who walks around with a smile and mask on is what they appear to be, but there are a handful whom I have known personally who are simply just good people.

I have the terrible habit of comparing myself to something I'd like to be, and in the face of such inward beauty and peace, I feel a sharp pang of animosity towards myself. I know everyone's imperfect, but I seem uncommonly close. Me, with endless list of personal issues. How can I ever help anyone out there when I can't even get my stuff straight? It hurts to face up to it, but I'm not who I want to be at this stage in life.

I'm not trying to be too hard on myself. I know I've struggled with a past that very few (especially on this campus) have had. I know that I have many valuable insights and talents. I've come a long way and am still headed forward. Nevertheless, I can't silence that question that oppresses my thoughts late in the night:

Why can't I be like them?

My Great Fear

Death has never been one that I am too familiar with. I have never lost anyone close to me... except my grandmother, and I was only five or so at the time. She lived far away, so her direct influence in my life was little if any- although I do remember locking myself in the bathroom to cry when she died. Either than that one brief and somewhat shallow memory, I have been blessed to never have felt the tear of a loved one being ripped away by that unseen and unstoppable force.

What life and death handed me, imagination stepped up and did it's work. I do not often fantasize about death, nor do I fear it. I do, however, fear, like a child fears the nonexistent terrors of the dark, losing the one I dreamed of growing old with.

Recently one of my professors mentioned the idea that losing a loved one is like losing a limb. At first it's absence is clear, stark, and painful. Yet as time applies it's healing properties, we learn to live and cope with the absence. I can't help but wonder, how can one learn to live, as only half of a whole? How can a heart continue to beat as only half of a heart? I fear- although unmarried and uncommitted- to lose a love during my youth.

I hear stories of mothers, perhaps only in their late thirties and forties, losing their husbands unexpectedly. I ask myself, how do they go on? What about the other half of their life that they will never spend with the object of their adoration? What about the support they must go on living without? What about the life they had begun building together? It's an idea my mind surely can't grasp, yet makes my heart tremble.

I imagine what I would feel. What would hurt the most, I think... that side of the bed that was once warm in the mornings after he got up for work. It would be cold now- a constant reminder of the missing half of me.

The Truth

I am a Bible college student. If anyone should be sure of the "the truth" then it should be me, shouldn't it? Unfortunately, that isn't the case this time. Sometimes I feel less sure of the truth than when I began my Christian walk four years ago. Often times I feel lost in a scrambled-eggs mess of doctrines and ministerial polity and makeup and gossip and looming financial ruin. I'm usually not this gloomy and pessimistic, but here's what I'm getting at:

When life is so unsure and unfaithful to it's promises, what can be known? After misconceptions and human errors have filled our years with wastefulness and disappointment, where will the ones before me tell me Truth was hiding?

Growing up is certainly a bittersweet process. The bitter part is realizing that life doesn't come with any guarantees, and all those years of anticipation were wasted on assumptions no one advised us to take. The sweet part? I'm still waiting on it. I can't write this down on my short lists of truths, but I have to hope, I have to dream, I have to trust, and I have to believe it's coming.

John 8:31-32

"Jesus said, 'If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples.

Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."