tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48014023709033701722024-03-13T13:10:00.599-05:00Dead. Fearless. Open. Authentic. Real. Free. Safe. Yours.“Anyone trying to live a spiritual life will soon discover that the most personal is the most universal, the most hidden is the most public, and the most solitary is the most communal. What we live in the most intimate places of our beings is not just for us but for all people." - Henri NouwenNickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-71573617464121028712009-08-06T22:48:00.001-05:002009-08-06T22:48:25.881-05:00Spinning<em>I’ve found the words if I could just stop thinking.<br />The room is spinning, I have got no choice.<br />Be patient, I am getting to the point.<br /> - Spinning</em>, Jack’s Mannequin<br /><br />Slow down. It’s spinning and I have no control over it. I have to let it spin, hold on for the next few weeks until I can reenter the life I want to live with the people I want to live it with. Too much has been lost this year, but much has been gained as well. The question is: what do I have to show institutions for these eight months of my life? Will they even care?<br /><br />My head spins when I look too far ahead into a future that doesn’t exist. My mistakes in the present, the result of my poverty, make it hard to see a bright future ahead. Living in the now has meant living for momentary satisfaction, what I’ve needed to cope with life as it is right now. I can understand the plight of others, the mindset of living just to meet needs and feel secure for a day. With this understanding, I must move forward and work to gain the confidence and ambition that is needed to live this life successfully.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-11169297836092627462009-07-25T02:26:00.001-05:002009-07-25T02:26:54.090-05:00I know his secret.He’s beautiful, but I don’t tell him that. You see, he has a secret and I know it now. I can’t let on that I know, because it’s his secret and his alone to hold onto or to tell the world. I just get to be one of the few that holds onto his secret, just as I hold onto my own secrets and the secrets of others. In many ways, his secret is that he is the same as me, that although we have so much in common, we would have more in common if we could talk about that secret. What would happen if we could depend on one another?Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-57779912910516406812009-07-18T23:50:00.000-05:002009-07-18T23:52:09.767-05:00The letter (into the future)<em>Happiness feels a lot like sorrow. Let it be. You can’t make it come or go…<br />Happiness damn near destroys you, breaks your faith to pieces on the floor. So you tell yourself, “That’s enough for now.” But happiness has a violent roar.<br /> – Happiness</em>, The Fray<br /><br />I may have finally had the bad day I’ve been wanting for so long. I need a bad day every once in awhile to remind me of how good I really do have it. I need days with some sorrow, some grief, some emotions I can’t even describe. I got that today, and the only way to deal with it was to listen to music and write a letter to someone in the future. <br /><br />I have a feeling I will remember this day for a long time to come. I have the letter to show for it, and someday it will go to who it’s supposed to. This gives me hope.<br /><br /><em>To my friend in the future,<br />I love you... That’s the most important thing. Mark 12:30-31 says to love the Lord with all your heart, soul, mind and strength and to love your neighbor as yourself. That’s what I’m trying to do with my life. I hope that you pursue those same things. I know you do. Keep being the loving, generous person that you are.</em>Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-39644549770836019412009-07-17T16:45:00.001-05:002009-07-17T16:48:22.559-05:00Fifteen daysThe blonde, the cat lady, the best friend, the newlyweds, the sixteen year-old, and the idealist—these are the people that the summer of 2009 has revolved around. Everyone that I’ve wanted to spend time with, I’ve done so about every fifteen days. These people make my life interesting. They give me opportunities to just be, without asking for anything in return. In fact, I sometimes find myself unwinding and talking only about myself when I’m around them, for it seems like I have to take every opportunity I can to process my thoughts and figure out where I’m at in this moment in time. However, the conversations are all starting to sound the same, and I begin to wonder if I’m actually moving forward or just stuck in this moment. <br /><br />Having four months of summer gives one an opportunity to create and progress in one’s life. I’m not sure it was meant to be a standstill moment where one waits until life begins again at his or her school or university. Traditional college students are stuck in the routine of life they’ve had since they were five, perhaps even four years old, which is life lived from fall to spring, the demands of education being the demands of life. Summers during one’s childhood are full of laughter and play, but what are summers supposed to be for the young adult still in the educational schedule? Even my friends who pursued their Master’s degree right after their undergrad still find themselves waiting for life to begin come August or September. My friends who become teachers may never get out of this routine.<br /><br />I wonder if the day will come for me when life won’t have to be lived out of suitcases and storage containers. These days a few clothes packed away, money, identification, and a means of transportation are my freedom to go where I please, to live life anywhere. It feels good to know I have this freedom, but on days when I actually use my given opportunities, I long for a home.<br /><br />So much relies on a big man in his late forties, beaten down by the hardships of life and the mixed up chemicals in his brain. My sense of home, my sense of security, my sense of family; he holds these loosely.<br /><br />I think I’ve seen them all in the last fifteen days. I’ve spent time with them, and others, trying to figure out who I am and how I got here and how they became my friends and family. That’s enough for now, but what happens come September?Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-10437938794773356222009-07-02T23:37:00.000-05:002009-07-02T23:39:55.538-05:00Our Father, music, or humanity?“You know the great thing, though, is that change can be so constant that you don’t even feel the difference until there is one. It can be so slow that you don’t know that your life is better, or worse, until it is. Or it can just blow you away; make you something different in an instant.” –George, <em>Life As A House<br /></em><br />As we stood in the dark singing, “Don’t let me go,” I couldn’t help but wonder who we were singing to? Was Isaac leading us in worship to Our Father, or to the god of music, or to the greatness of humanity?<br /><br />Just three years ago I considered myself a worshiper with no boundaries. I found freedom in worship—freedom which meant being comfortable closing my eyes, raising my hands, and dancing. Over time, this comfort began to decrease. I began to criticize other worshipers because I saw those who experienced emotion in worship but no depth in life. I wonder if that was me back then. I wonder how I got here.<br /><br />The difference between me then and now is the depth in my life and the way in which I experience worship. I don’t limit myself to the traditional worship experience, though I do find that worship services are some of the most meaningful times in my life. Instead, I believe that when I appreciate Creation, when I try to love others and do something selfless, when I ‘let go and let God,’ I worship because of my enchantment with the world and the presence of Almighty God in it.<br /><br />Getting here has been such a slow change that I didn’t even realize it until Sunday night when I found myself worshiping with a crowd of thousands. I’m just not sure we were all worshiping the same thing. I’m not even sure if I was only worshiping Our Father. I may just have well been worshiping the music or the accomplishments of humanity. I wonder if well-played loud music in a dark setting with deliberately bright lighting on the players may just create a certain emotion and physical reaction for human beings. What is the purpose of a concert anyway? What is the purpose of a concert setting in a worship service? What does it mean that I acted the same way at a concert this week as I did just a few years ago in worship services?Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-56489425027345515842009-06-26T22:35:00.001-05:002009-06-26T22:38:40.703-05:00Too young and too dumb: part 2No one ever taught me how to be a son. It’s what I’ve always been expected to be just by being born into this world, but no one taught me how to fulfill this social role. Further, how was I supposed to know that this role would change over the course of one day, my 21st birthday, which I wasn’t even home to experience?<br /><br />I live with my dad for about 5 months of the year, while the rest I spend living on my university campus, soaking up the independence I’ve gained over the last three years. That kind of independence is what I share with my peers, but I’ve always been more of an independent person than most. How is it that someone like me, so young and so dumb, has been able to grow up so fast?<br /><br />I find it all too common for young people my age to have conflict with the same sex parent. Daughters resent their mothers and sons resent their fathers. As an adult son, I’ve been trying to work through my feelings toward my father that have developed over my childhood so that our relationship as two adults can be rooted in love and understanding. It’s extremely difficult, though, dealing with my emotions when I have an emotionally absent father. Or is it the other way around? Does he have too many mood swings? Have I lost the ability to feel? Have I never formed an attachment?<br /><br />I watched the film <em>Life As A House</em> once today already, and I’m currently watching it now. Honestly, I could have cried several times throughout the film—if I could actually cry ever. I have these romantic notions of a perfect father/son relationship, and I know it will never happen for me. I don’t have a father like George, someone who wants to pursue me, and I’m too resolved to the fact that my father will never know me intimately. We can’t communicate on the same level—I guess I’m always trying to be better than him. Dad cries and wallows in depression because he sees himself as a failure. As much as I tell him he isn’t or doesn’t have to be, I also believe it’s true. So, I have to be “better.” I think some walls between us are just permanent, that we could never tear them down and rebuild a beautiful relationship. We’re simply individuals, he in danger of losing everything and I just starting life.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-84241208473629960192009-06-26T01:56:00.001-05:002009-06-26T01:59:07.494-05:00Too young and too dumb: part 1<em>I’ve been around for a little over twenty years,<br />And to anyone who needs advice on getting here<br />Don’t ask me, the path I took was not exactly by the book.<br /><br />I was too young to know and too dumb to figure out<br />That you can lose yourself in all this traveling around,<br />And you can reach a point of no return<br />Losing touch with lessons learned…<br /><br />And the only way to love yourself:<br />Giving love to someone else.<br />Don’t believe in everything you hear.<br />Growing up is more than simply living through the years…<br /><br />So it took a little time to get this right.<br />The guilty and the innocent are always side by side.<br /><br />I’ll be me, and you be you.</em><br />--Jon McLaughlin, <em>The Middle<br /></em><br />During the summer months when it can be hardest for college students to live fulfilled lives, I’ve found that I have been sustained by the blessings of friendship. Though it seems I have abandoned or set aside some relationships for the time being, there are also the select few that I have been able to consistently nurture, which I find benefits all involved. One of the greatest difficulties of growing up in our socially networked world is having the ability to know about everyone, but at the same time being clueless about who people really are. I ask those who want to get to know me to make the effort, while I also try to make the effort to truly know some of the people that I’m surrounded with. I admit that I may not want to know you as much as you want to know me, and maybe there are those that I want to get to know who don’t care to know me. What are we to do with that?<br /><br />I’m reminded of something a friend once told me. <em>Some friendships are only for a time, while others are life long. When you start one, you never know which it’s going to be.</em>Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-74214796046118006722009-06-18T15:23:00.002-05:002009-06-18T15:26:44.994-05:00Unknown<em>I’ll give you this confession<br />I am taking you with me<br /><br />I get the feeling we're so misdirected</em><br /><em>I get the feeling we have lost control</em><br /><em>Til then I'll turn you to the new religion</em><br /><em>We're dropping out into the so unknown<br /> - Drop Out-The So Unknown, Jack’s Mannequin</em><br /><br />Although there are so many loved ones that I would like to take along on this journey, I find that I have abandoned more than I have taken with. If I ever think that my personal journey is more important than that of another, I am dreadfully mistaken. We’re all just trying to take our own journeys into the unknown, facing reality as we know it, and somehow wanting others to journey with us. <br /><br />There are some of you that I have started taking with me. You don’t even know it yet. You and I are headed to the unknown destination just because we love each other and share dreams and direction. Have we dropped out of reality? Maybe. Maybe not. Keeping our lives centered in the present, we can know what’s real and what’s not and share ideals and values that we think can change the world. If we’re misdirected, how do we know it?<br /><br />I have no power over your religion. It’s yours to find, but how I wish that you would listen to me and let me turn you to mine. It’s about love. It’s about concern for the poor. It’s about grace and redemption. It’s about creation. When you can understand where I’m coming from, the ups and downs of the journey so far, perhaps you will turn to this religion—the religion of the unkown.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-14593854401995957182009-06-17T00:34:00.000-05:002009-06-17T00:35:04.027-05:00ProgressEach day I seek to find ways to make this body better. I somehow hold the key that gives life to my doomed flesh. As I eat, drink, and run, I do so with purpose and determination. All I want to do is live. I don’t take my breaths for granted any more. I feel them. There is life flowing through my lungs, my veins, my muscles, and I am growing stronger.<br /><br />In this critical time, I have learned that sacrifice and dedication are worth the price for the achievement of the goal ahead. I love this discipline, but it scares me. I’ve spent so much of my life being flexible and undisciplined that I fear this is only for a moment, that I will fail at this and be unsatisfied with who I become. I want any physical changes to compliment the progress I make in learning to live. I want my body, mind, and spirit to be fully connected, dependent on each other, not living separate lives. <br /><br />Has running become my new religion? If so, what progress is that? It’s just one more change, one new lifestyle to adapt to, not the person anyone would expect me to be, a person I doubted I ever would be, but somehow I’m here.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-20771516896379719722009-06-11T18:44:00.001-05:002009-06-11T18:46:26.498-05:00SubmissionI wonder still if it’s freedom or fearlessness that I truly desire. For I know this: freedom bound within the confines of a system is worthy of respect. Fearlessness often looked at as freedom outside of a system, can bring much glory or much criticism. And there are times when I think I want both. There are times when I see social norms as safe and life-giving, and times when there is much oppression and misunderstanding. Community standards and expectations do serve a purpose, but have they limited my friends from exploring the world and experiencing grace and truth?<br /><br />When speaking the truth meant handing over a friend to discipline, I had to try to make sense of what consequences I would be bringing upon myself and others. I had to decide that speaking the truth meant my friend would learn a lesson and possibly modify his behaviors and attitudes. I had to ask myself if my truth was really the truth worth possibly losing a friend over. I had to ask if this is what accountability should look like. I was convicted in that moment, knowing that stepping into that office made me vulnerable to attacks and criticisms on every side. Telling the truth in that moment was either a way to wake up my friend or a door to my own fall and hypocrisy.<br /><br />Though he kicked and screamed for a moment, he found the new pain was bearable. Getting caught breaking their community standards wasn’t the worst that had happened to him. He said he learned his lesson, but I cannot say for sure that he has, that he won’t break those standards again. In fact, I know he will. I also know that he answers to a higher Authority, and I cannot decide how to discern if that Authority has given authority to the institution. Further, I now want the clarity he has that somehow the institution is wrong. The reason I know he will break their standards is because I have, and we are forever linked. As I watch the powers of the world conflict with the powers above, I cannot help but become more confused in knowing exactly when heavenly Authority has been bestowed upon the kingdoms of this earth. I wonder if when I choose to submit to anyone, in some ways I am denying Our Father and not fully submitting to the Son.<br /><br />So I can’t decide, and may never be able to decide, if I’m Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, Pentecostal, Reformed, Lutheran, Episcopal, Catholic, Protestant, or whatever way you want me to label my religion. If I commit to one, I deny some of the great mystery and attribute of our God, the one and only Father, Son, and Spirit. Perhaps it is only in the mystery of the Trinity that I can find both fearlessness and freedom.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-14663012024996530082009-06-07T01:40:00.000-05:002009-06-07T01:42:49.505-05:00I must clean this up and move forward.The ants have invaded, and I must decide how to react. I can remember back to the last time my life was invaded by ants. Everyone around me reacted differently. Some could care less. Others found it horribly disgusting. Some pointed blame. Others quietly and humbly cleaned up the mess. I was in the company of many then. I am almost alone now.<br /><br />I don’t know whether to be angry at myself or at him. I know that I am not responsible for him and that the mess left behind was primarily my own. But, somehow, I can’t take full responsibility for the ants. I can, however, note that the ants are only a symptom of something else, deeper issues in life at home. I suppose rather than pass blame or get angry about this situation; I should just clean up the mess. I must clean this up and move forward. I can only hope that by keeping this space clean the ants will not return.<br /><br />I need a helper, and I have become so bad at asking for help. I need someone to see the mess and come alongside me with a plan to help clean it up. Once it’s clean, I feel then I can let others in. Until then, I think I will push others away, or wait to go to them and not let them come to me. Not everyone can be so intimately involved. It’s not normal for me to show hospitality, but the day is coming when that will change.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-5508414963740055192009-06-03T23:53:00.000-05:002009-06-03T23:54:05.808-05:00Take the vows.The religion that I thought I was lacking is not lost. It has been here all along. I have always had a religion, a devotion to Our Father, a faith. When I said that I am almost ready to say goodbye, I mean only to say goodbye to a past lacking in understanding and depth. As I pursue a deeper calling, I wonder if it is almost time to take the vows.<br /><br />Poverty. Chastity. Obedience.<br /><br />These historic vows have been taken by the greatest leaders of our Faith for centuries. Although they may not be necessary, I find them so vital for living a deeper life. These life-giving vows are promises to God to put aside the extra gifts of this world to pursue the Faith with more vigor.<br /><br />Before I can take these vows, I need to find my place in the Church. I need to find a place to call home, where others can hold me to the calling that I know is there and where I can use my gifts and calling in faithful service to Our Father and to my brothers and sisters in the world.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-45414675206076461592009-05-31T00:02:00.001-05:002009-05-31T00:02:56.689-05:00Say goodbye.<em>Say goodbye, say goodbye to the girl next door<br />She don’t exist, she’s only in your head.<br />Say hello, say hello as you’re walking out the door<br />To yourself and to your past, they don’t exist anymore.<br /></em>- <em>Say Goodbye</em>, Jeremy Junkin<br /><br />"When I dwell with you, I do so in the present—I live in the present. Not that past, although much can be remembered and learned by looking back, but only for a visit, not an extended stay… [Imagining the future] is your desperate attempt to get some control over something you can’t. It is impossible for you to take power over the future because it isn’t even real, nor will it ever be real." - Jesus, in William P. Young's "The Shack"<br /><br />If you and I haven’t met up or spoken for over a year, please don’t treat me like nothing has changed. Sometimes I think we hold back from being ourselves to keep up appearances. Making small talk can be one of the most dangerous things that old friends do. Instead of pretending that things are as they were we must remember that the past doesn’t exist and should only be visited for a short time. Yes, old friends need to catch each other up, but in such a way that gives dignity to both. If it’s been a year, assume I am someone you don’t know anymore, and ask me even the most basic questions. You may be surprised by what you find out.<br /><br />I can feel Deep calling to deep. I can’t explain it. It keeps me up at night, my legs restless to walk out into the dark to find it. The most sacred places in the world are calling my name. They tell me to come, take off my sandals and kneel on holy ground. My innermost being wants an escape from mundane suburban life. If it means that I have to take those vows to find fulfillment, I will do that. You may not agree with everything about my religion, and not even do I understand its institutionalization. Look at me and how I practice. I just want grace, and I know where to find it. I eat the bread, I drink the cup, and I am satisfied. It is now that I see that nothing but full devotion will make sense to me. When my deep answers the Call of the Deep I will be in the world, serving the world—a bondservant to Our Father because of my vows.<br /><br />I am almost ready to say goodbye.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-59564988671695518102009-05-27T12:51:00.001-05:002009-05-27T12:53:27.411-05:00Show me what I'm looking for.<em>In the silence, I meet lust. Not because I wanted him to be there, just because it was quiet enough for him to come out; my Tempter—always waiting for that moment when my focus is off.<br /></em><br />Grace, redemption, and faithful and true love are evident in the Mysterious One. Through him I moved forward in understanding what the Kingdom of God is like. I have to share this story with you in its most pure and intimate form to help you understand. There’s something you must know about Our Father.<br /><br />If the Mysterious One only knew what he was doing that morning was so easily turned into my temptation. He laid there on the couch, shirtless, rubbing his stomach so sensually. He laid there reading, playing with his navel, not taking any notice that I was watching. I could have continued to sit there watching, dreaming, lusting, and even getting angry at his tempting me. I struggled enough with him as it was. I had to leave. I had to leave and be angry for awhile—at him, at myself, at my Tempter.<br /><br />“We need silence in our lives. We even desire it. But when we enter into silence we encounter a lot of inner noises, often so disturbing that a busy and distracting life seems preferable to a time of silence. Two disturbing ‘noises’ present themselves quickly in our silence: the noise of lust and the noise of anger. Lust reveals our many unsatisfied needs, anger, or many unresolved relationships. But lust and anger are very hard to face.<br /><br />“What are we to do? Jesus says, ‘Go and learn the meaning of the words: Mercy is what pleases me, not sacrifice’ (Matthew 9:13). <em>Sacrifice</em> here means ‘offering up,’ ‘cutting out,’ ‘burning away,’ or ‘killing.’ We shouldn’t do that with our lust and anger. It simply won’t work. But we can be merciful toward our own noisy selves and turn these enemies into friends.” –Henri Nouwen, <em>Bread for the Journey</em><br /><br />As I learned to befriend my emotions that day I found that I could be merciful to myself, but also that others had mercy to offer me, including the Mysterious One. The Mysterious One, recognizing his own death, has allowed himself to say what Our Father would have him say, to do what Our Father would have him do, and even to be silent when Our Father would have him do so. That night Our Father had the Mysterious One give me all the love and affection I needed to redeem the day. Just when I thought that the Mysterious One was my tempter, I realized that Our Father had greater power than my Tempter. <br /><br />In the silence, in the stillness, I must not be afraid to ask Our Father to show me what I’m looking for.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-5756117545204357442009-05-26T20:18:00.001-05:002009-05-26T20:20:34.110-05:00A Mother's Love<em>When I find myself in times of trouble Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, “Let it be.” And in my hour of darkness She is standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom, “Let it be.”<br /></em><br />Sometimes I forget what a mother’s love is like. I haven’t received love from my mother in almost five years now. I’ve received love from other mothers and mother figures, but it will never be the same as the love that my mother had to give. And I will never be able to give love in a way that a mother can. While I do hope to raise children someday, I can only show them the love of a father. Because of the absence of motherly love in my life, this love is such a mystery to me, but I think I know where to find it.<br /><br />Mary is the Mother Love of God personified. She is the Chosen One, full of grace, obedience, compassion, and tenderness, abounding in love for the Son she was chosen to raise. And she has done much more than that. She has raised sons and daughters alike throughout the generations, and has fought on behalf of her children during times of trouble. She teaches us to live at peace with everyone, reminding us to take life for what it is and accept what the Father gives us.<br /><br /><em>Hail Mary,</em><br /><em>Full of Grace,</em><br /><em>The Lord is with thee.</em><br /><em>Blessed art thou among women,</em><br /><em>and blessed is the fruitof thy womb, Jesus.</em><br /><em>Holy Mary,</em><br /><em>Mother of God,</em><br /><em>pray for us sinners now,</em><br /><em>and at the hour of death.<br />Amen.</em>Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-64409252312595217992009-05-22T23:25:00.000-05:002009-05-22T23:27:42.781-05:00LegacyRemember that night at the end of December. Remember that it was on that night that I took a look back at who I was, feeling the pain of the past and looking forward to a future where freedom could be experienced. Remember what freedom looked like back then; it looked like anarchy. No rules. No consequences. Life could never be that simple.<br /><br />As the last five months have played out, that night in December has found new meaning. For some, telling them about that night has changed their view of me. For others, that night is one of many that they know I’ve struggled through. They know that if God miraculously took away my pain I wouldn’t learn about grace, love, and redemption. They know that night is about truth and coming to grips with who I am. On that night I was unprepared for Africa. Now I find myself somehow prepared for anything.<br /><br />You make a harsh mistake if you believe I deserve no sympathy because of that night, or because of any one night. Granted, you are the only one who can grant me sympathy, and if you don’t let me know how you feel it will never affect me. You still haven’t told me what sympathy I deserve, after all these weeks. What do you believe I have to show for these last five months of life? What will be my legacy of 2009?<br /><br />I think I told them everything tonight. I talked so much my mouth became dry. They deserved to know as much as you deserve to know. They listened, and that is all I ask you to do. Listen, don’t talk; don’t interrupt. Wait for me to finish. You will get your turn. I can’t tell you all at once either. One or two at a time, please. I sometimes wonder why I even attempt such daring feats.<br /><br />When all is said and done, perhaps today or tomorrow, you may never get the chance to decide my fate. You may never tell me what you think of me or how my life has impacted you. And should you do this? Or do we let our impending deaths separate us forever and let words go unsaid? But wait, I am already dead, and you may be too. It depends.<br /><br />What is your religion?Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-86842147141813214672009-05-21T00:38:00.001-05:002009-05-21T00:38:49.263-05:00EnchantedWe’ve been asking the questions for some time now. What is real? What is the truth? What are we supposed to believe? We still don’t have the answers, but we are searching.<br /><br />When trying to live a spiritual life we must all ask ourselves how present God is in our lives. Is God still lurking in the everyday? Or has God been so far removed from today that it takes quite a search to find the Holy Mystery? Is our world still enchanted?<br /><br />I live in a world that is full of Holy Mystery—a world where God is everywhere and grace is everywhere. Everything from my rising in the morning to my lying down to bed at night is an act of grace bestowed upon me. I am truly humbled to be living in light of that wonderful grace.<br /><br />Do you live in the same world as I? How enchanted is your world?Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-31880635918709145382009-05-18T22:33:00.001-05:002009-05-18T22:33:52.825-05:00Remain cheerful.Dear Mysterious One,<br /><br />You told me that I could be anything I want to be when I asked if I could be fearless. You said I had to leave the secrecy and deceptiveness behind. You told me to remain courageous in the honesty that I value so dearly. You said to use unambiguous language: “Say what you need to say.” You told me to remain cheerful.<br /><br />Mysterious One, the truth is that I am marked. You and I both are marked. We have markings that link us and markings from different places and times. The markings that link us are the most on my mind these days.<br /><br />Know this: Africa is not done with me yet. Lately I find myself lost in dreams of a future in Africa, a different Africa from the one we know but Africa very much the same. Africa hasn’t changed much since the beginning of time and I don’t expect a great difference in my lifetime. I have been reading, writing, meditating and working to find my center, a place that I buried long ago and often hide from when faced with the many social pressures of life. As I do this, Africa calls deeper and my soul groans back with hunger pains for the remainder of an experience cut short. I cannot get those last weeks back, and I would never want to, for I grew so much more on American soil, or so it seems. But I must answer this call. I must answer this call to be true to myself. I must answer this call to find my religion. I must answer this call because it is my destiny. And I find that answering the call means so many different things. It means learning to forgive and still remember. It means reading about Africa through novels, essays, and research, soaking up every piece of information I can. It means looking ahead in my life to a place and time in which I can go back to the Dark Continent and somehow walk forward into the light. It means having a willingness to learn and love above all else.<br /><br />And how am I supposed to be dealing with Our Father? It seems I don’t have much of a religion these days. I don’t know how to follow Our Father religiously. To me it seems that my life, His Will, just falls into place. That is what I can remain cheerful about.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-33416299974663950522009-05-17T01:07:00.001-05:002009-05-17T01:09:26.551-05:00ExodusSometimes in life we are called to leave a place or a state of being for the freedom that waits on the other side. The journey is the Exodus and the other side is the Promised Land.<br /><br />The route by which I escaped Africa was a forced exodus, by men and women seeking their own interests in maintaining the reputation and integrity of an institution. They said that coming home would be easier because life in Africa was difficult. The goal was to move on and find some sort of freedom of living in a more comfortable land. I have not found that freedom, and Africa is a part of my center. It didn’t die with the Exodus. In fact, the Exodus made me realize that Africa had become home.<br /><br />Some have tried to get me to make another Exodus, to abandon a part of my identity because it is controversial. What they don’t understand is that I can never escape my identity and the man I’ve developed into. I’ve learned that this kind of Exodus is deemed unethical by the profession in which I am entering, and I respect that perspective. I can understand the difficulties that some have with combining their religious ethics with those ethics set up by professional disciplines, but it’s an open-mindedness that allows us to be more realistic about the world we live in. What is religion anyway? How much longer will religion survive?<br /><br />“I could never work out whether we were to view religion as a life-insurance policy or a life sentence.” –Orleanna Price, Barbara Kingsolver’s <em>The Poisonwood Bible</em><br /><br />“Religions commit suicide when they find their inspiration in dogma.” –Alfred North Whitehead<br /><br />The story of life is the story of many exoduses and the freedom that is found beyond the journey. But which is more important, the journey or the destination? Remember, the Promised Land is unfamiliar territory to most.<br /> <br />I do suppose I need a religion. The people I respect the most have one, and they still suffer. Maybe religion is suffering. Maybe Love is suffering. Maybe Freedom doesn’t come without suffering. In searching for a religion, I’ll start with this: <em>Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.</em> James 1:27.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-10621216193115554352009-05-13T02:22:00.000-05:002009-05-13T02:23:26.477-05:00ConfessionBless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been so long since my last confession.<br /><br /><em>Have mercy on me, O God, according to the multitude of thy tender mercies.<br /><br />Forgive the rebellious sins of my youth; look instead through the eyes of your unfailing love, for you are merciful, O Lord.</em><br /><br />I am unable to give or receive perfect love every day. Forgive me for putting my needs before yours. Though I desire to be there for you unconditionally, I cannot. I am limited.<br /><br />What penance must I do? How can I receive this grace?<br /><br />Grace is everywhere. God is everywhere.<br /><br />You may forgive and still remember.<br /><br />Amen.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-51367862769797071362009-05-11T16:40:00.001-05:002009-05-11T16:42:48.509-05:00I am a man.Start from the beginning.<br /><br /><em>When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.</em> 1 Corinthians 13:11<br /><br />I am a man, who once was a boy. That boy was sheltered and naïve, but I cannot put blame on anyone for that. They all did the best they could. So now my childhood rests in the past. It affects me every day whether I know it or not, but mostly I know it.<br /><br />I wonder why you may perceive my being a man as being rebellious. You cannot keep me young and innocent forever. I could tell you story upon story of my innocence lost, those pivotal events that changed my life. Are you ready for them, or should I keep them contained?<br /><br />Recently I’ve shocked you and I’ve angered you because you just found out a little bit more of who I am. But you haven’t talked to me about it. What are you afraid of?<br /><br />I’m not fearless yet, but I’m learning to be afraid and still act. I cannot just sit idly and watch the world go by. Sometimes it looks like that is all I am doing, but it’s not the truth. True, I am sitting here, but my mind is racing with thoughts. I am not even watching you, or anyone else for that matter. I sit here with these books—reading, learning. You are always welcome to come and sit with me. We can talk. I want to know what you have to say. Let’s dialogue, and leave this place changed.<br /><br />Find out where the story ends.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-74212162358368738072009-05-09T20:55:00.000-05:002009-05-09T20:56:37.741-05:00There is still hope for one.In a family of judgmental conservative Evangelicals, I find there is still hope for one, and even that hope is dwindling because they want to brainwash him. Maybe not brainwash, that’s harsh, but they want to stop him from freeing his mind and seeing other communities that will open their arms to him, free of judgment. He needs love—not their “love” which consists of tough love and a world full of absolutes—but true Love. He needs choices, not the oppression of traditions and fundamental values that are so far from the mainstream. He needs to be able to create himself and share himself openly with the world. <br /><br />He made a mistake. He asked the oppressors for help, and they think that means he wants to conform. What he really needs is a different kind of help, an advocate, someone who is on his side. Because there are sides to this, and maybe not sides where one is right and the other is wrong, but there are sides. And it doesn’t look like one will change the other any time soon. They need to agree to disagree. That will give him his freedom. But what sixteen year-old has ever experienced true freedom?<br /><br />I experienced a kind of freedom at age sixteen, but it’s not the kind of freedom that I want him to have. He will still need guidance and direction. And I ask myself, “Where’s my place in all of this?” I want to be a part of his life, but I’ve lost credibility by not living up to <em>their</em> standards. And I know what they think of me is partially based on lies. The truth about me isn’t clear to everyone, and I don’t know how to set the record straight. And do I have to? Is that my duty?<br /><br />The Mysterious One asked me why I want people to know me so badly. The Mysterious One is charming because I never know what he is thinking. But I can’t be that way. Even if I don’t speak words you seem to know what I’m thinking. My eyes give it away. But the Mysterious One can’t read eyes, so he waits for me to speak. If only more of you could be like him. Stop passing judgment on my eyes, and wait as long as it takes for me to reveal the truth about me. I have no secrets, but it will take time for me to tell you everything.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-86086466202489439302009-05-08T00:42:00.000-05:002009-05-08T00:44:02.552-05:00Zambia: a conclusion“Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”-Anais Nin<br /><br />This is where you decide what sympathy I deserve. The way I see it I have not failed, but I have lived. I did not merely survive this experience, I lived every moment. And even though I have died, I have lived. You may ask how all of this is a story about love. I can say without a doubt that love has come. Redemption has come. And I ask you this, are you willing to let yourself be a part of this redeeming work in my life?<br /><br />-------<br /><br />The following are sources for italicized quotes in this Zambia series. They are books worth your reading.<br /><br />Achebe, Chinua, <em>Things Fall Apart</em>. Doubleday, N.Y., 1959.<br />Conrad, Joseph, <em>Heart of Darkness</em>. London, 1899.<br />Kingsolver, Barbara, <em>The Poisonwood Bible</em>. HarperCollins, N.Y., 1998Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-26731204225891215442009-05-07T01:08:00.001-05:002009-05-07T01:10:03.864-05:00Zambia: part 9Though we were spared once, we would not be spared again. Without time to defend ourselves, our removal from Zambia was planned and executed. The ten of us left so suddenly, an event that is one of the scars I share with my nine brothers and sisters. The other six were left behind, to endure without us. <em>We would all have to escape Africa by a different route.</em> <br /><br />I don’t think I’ve ever had a strong sense of family. When I look at my own, I see one side that is a bunch of men-hating single women and the other side that says they love God but has these ideals of perfection that no one could possibly live up to. Thus, in neither side of the family have I learned how to truly give and receive love. I have only learned this from experiencing family in other groups, such as at camp, at college, and in Zambia. So I have had to grieve recently because I was reminded by one of my Zambian sisters that <em>we, as a unique group, fit together in Zambia in a way that we could never fit together back home.</em> Our Zambian family has broken up.<br /><br />I think about those family members and wonder if they are grieving the same way I am. I wonder if she is trying her hardest to escape Africa and put it out of her mind. I wonder if Africa is calling him back. I have seen the changes in some, and for others I can’t quite tell what affliction Africa might have caused them. Africa might not affect some of us until years down the road, and although I’d like to know how everyone is doing, perhaps it’s not for me to know. I have to let it be.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4801402370903370172.post-55290036333789765392009-05-05T14:27:00.000-05:002009-05-05T14:28:16.408-05:00Zambia: part 8We will never know what we were spared from that night. <em>The night was very quiet. It was always quiet except on moonlight nights. Darkness held a vague terror for these people, even the bravest among them. Children were warned not to whistle at night for fear of evil spirits.</em> We were told there is an ancient African belief that evil walks at night. We walked at night. We, the emissaries of light, stepped out into the darkness and walked. Stepping beyond the white walls of the compound, we left the safety of our secluded hideaway and trusted the good of humanity and the quietness of Chomatown with our lives. We brought light into the darkness, white into black territory. It exposed us. We were bare, defenseless, naïve. We could not connect with the fear of this culture. We felt impenetrable. But ten muguwas with intellect and faith are no match for the brute strength and weapons of the evil that walks at night.<br /><br />It was a sin—a sin born out of ignorance. Intentional or not, it happened…<em>and I wonder what new, disgusting sins we commit each day, holding our heads high in sacred ignorance while our neighbors gasp, hand to mouth.</em>Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15582701929594668398noreply@blogger.com0