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.