...delirium

It's Kinda Like When...

2010-04-15T12:42:00.000-07:00

Behold, Razorclown Ministries.

It's a new blog where I'll post observations about life and faith, usually in a geeky vein. My latest post compares Christians and the Borg.

I'll be using ...delirium to occasionally post life updates and other stuff that doesn't fit elsewhere.

I'll keep posting fiction (at some point) on Paperangel Press.

Yup. I'm knee-deep in blogs. Now to actually update them.

Humilety

2010-02-18T21:21:00.001-08:00

I've got this thing where I hate being wrong. Makes me feel very icky inside.

As I was journaling tonight, I found myself typing this:

Please shape my ministry, Lord. And increase my faith. Sort my thoughts and desires, and make sense of them. Show me, too, that I don't have to be right all the time. That I don't have to understand everything.

You want me to be humble. With my faults.

See, I take my own faults way too seriously. I can get pretty neurotic at times.

As I continued typing, I made a reference to this blog by its name: ...delerium. And when I did, I saw a little red squiggly line under the word. Spell check.

No freakin' way, I thought.

Sure enough. I, the spelling nazi, have had a giant misspelled word at the top of my blog for seven years.

And I laughed... and corrected it.

Giving Up Excuses

2010-02-16T23:46:00.000-08:00

Lent begins tomorrow. Paperangel Press launches tonight.

More to come.

Pew, Pew, Pew

2010-01-19T22:23:00.000-08:00

Read through 3 John this evening, then played some Modern Warfare 2 online. As the Scripture was settling in my mind, I saw that my brother-in-law was online. We joined up and promptly started shooting at each other.

He smoked me. Mercilessly.

I'd come tearing over a grassy hill and get dropped. Different hill each time. He was sitting across the level with a sniper rifle, no doubt yawning as he picked me off. Mind you, we were in a game with 16 other people, so I felt a little picked-on the fourth time he shot me in the head.

In the next round, we were on the same team. Didn't do too great that time, either. The opposing team had us pinned for most of the game, shutting us down with sniper fire on one side and a massed assault on the other.

Grr. Snipers.

Sometimes I get competitive. Sometimes I just get frustrated. When it feels like I'm getting trounced and my opponent is barely trying, I lean toward frustrated.

But as I was being riddled with bullets, I thought of 3 John. It mentions this guy, Diotrephes. He's causing trouble for the church, shutting good people out and causing all manner of division.

John says he "loves to be first."

I like winning, but I don't always have to. When I feel like I do, that's when a game - supposed to be fun, remember? - starts breeding anger. Pride left unchecked turns us against each other. Diotrephes reminded me of that.

Last round, I got 6 kills, and died 8 times.

Ah, well. Getcha next time, Dom.

In All Its Truth

2010-01-18T21:36:00.000-08:00

One of my deepest fears is that, no matter what I do or how hard I try, my actions just won't be enough. I'm afraid of my own inadequacy.

Check this out:

We have heard of your... faith and love that spring from the hope that is stored up for you in heaven and that you have already heard about in the word of truth. -from Colossians 1:4-5

The Colossians' faith and love, Paul says, comes from their hope. But where does the hope come from?

All over the world this gospel is bearing fruit and growing, just as it has been doing among you since the day you heard it and understood God's grace in all its truth. -Colossians 1:6b

The truth of God's overwhelming grace has gotten to them. That's where they get their hope. And that hope manifests not just in emotion, but action. They bear fruit, and it looks like faith and love.

Paul goes on to describe the life he's praying that they'll experience. The life that God meant them to have. He talks about good works. Knowledge. Power. Endurance. Patience. Joy. Thankfulness. (see Colossians 1:10-12)

He leads off the list with the one that's hardest for me to believe: a life that pleases God.

There may always be parts of our lives that don't please God. But there are those that do. He loves when we get it right, and even when we try and fail. He loves us. He's proven that.

Oh, how He's proven that.

For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. -Colossians 1:13-14

May we all understand His grace. May it humble us and encourage us. May we seek to please Him, and thank Him that we can.

The Divine Conspiracy

2009-12-27T22:03:00.000-08:00

[this is the last lesson in my Acts series, and when i presented this lesson in Sunday School this morning at my church, i could tell i was going out on a good note. i'll explain at the bottom.]

Acts 8

This chapter in Acts records two very unlikely encounters, and the even more unlikely results. The Gospel reaches Samaria, a land with a history of enmity with the Jews. An evangelist preaches to a royal official of an African kingdom. In both stories, souls are added to God's Kingdom. God set up people and circumstances so that the Gospel would continue to spread. Today, he does the same. These stories illustrate two key truths of evangelism.

God may call us to witness to anyone.
Then Philip ran up to the chariot and heard the man reading Isaiah the prophet. "Do you understand what you are reading?" Philip asked. "How can I," he said, "unless someone explains it to me?" So he invited Philip to come up and sit with him. - Acts 8:30-31

The eunuch seems like an unlikely candidate for conversion for a few reasons. This man was an important official in charge of the entire treasury of his queen. (Acts 8:27) We can assume that he was well-educated. And certainly, he was wealthy. Jesus' words for the rich are far from encouraging, on the surface. (Matt. 19:23-26) Yet, this is one of the easiest and most enthusiastic converts we've seen so far. God had already begun to put the pieces together. He had brought the eunuch to Judaism, and put him in the right place at the right time, with the right scroll in hand. In fact, God may have started the process when the Queen of Sheba visited Solomon. (1 Kings 10) Phillip, guided by the Spirit, capitalized on what was already there. He spoke directly into the eunuch's context, and the eunuch responded. Encounters with us may be steps along a non-believer's journey to Christ. We may be pieces of the puzzle that will, in time, fit together.

· Are you ready to introduce people to Jesus?

· Do you reflect Jesus to those around you?

Don't give up on anyone.
They were baptized, both men and women. Simon himself believed and was baptized. - Acts 8:12-13

The Jews and Samaritans had similar roots, but they were not on speaking terms. There had been bitterness between them since Israel split into two kingdoms. (1 Kings 11-12) When Phillip arrived, there were long-standing cultural and religious barriers between the two peoples. Still, Jesus spent much time in Samaria, with mixed reactions from the people. (John 4:1-42, Luke 9:51-56) But no matter the history, Phillip and the other believers witnessed wherever they went. (Acts 8:4) And when the apostles got word that God was at work in Samaria, they left their prejudices behind, ministering not only to the village where Phillip was, but others as well. (Acts 8:25) Sometimes, those we think of as furthest from God surprise us by coming to Him. Not only is Phillip in Samaritan country, he is faced with a sorcerer who claims to be a divine being. Simon was probably the last person anyone expected to convert. But he did.

· Have we written off certain people or groups as hopeless?

[it was after this point that i said the following: At the risk of being controversial, let me name some examples. Homosexuals. Muslims. Atheists. Let's not write them off. God hasn't. i believe God wanted me to say it, and was pleased that i did.]

[i realize how offensive that is for those who have been burned by the church. for those who believe that the last thing they need is a savior. for those who see Christianity as heresy.]

[thing is, i really do believe that accepting Jesus' sacrifice is God's chosen method of reuniting Himself with us. and Jesus went, in person, to people that lived in a way that offended Him, and showed them love.]

[for me to do otherwise would be un-Christian. because i said this to the Sunday School class this morning, too: It's because God doesn't give up on people that we're sitting in this room today.]

[thank you for reading.]

Zealots

2009-12-18T22:44:00.000-08:00

Acts 5:12-5:42

Peter and John have thus far been arrested once for preaching. Two church members have died suddenly in the face of their own hypocrisy. Now, all twelve of the apostles are put in jail, threatened, and severely beaten. Acts 5:17 records that the religious authorities had the apostles arrested out of jealousy. The word jealousy in Greek is zelos, from which we get the word zealous. Clearly, the apostles had some zeal of their own.

Zeal means focusing on the mission.

Peter and the other apostles replied: "We must obey God rather than men!” – Acts 5:29

God is not only granting the church incredible success, He is utterly humiliating the authorities. But you note that the apostles say nothing about the jailbreak, or the fact that the Sanhedrin is simply rehashing their earlier threats. They simply speak the Gospel, just as boldly as ever. They don’t react with pride or fear: only determination. Remember also, this is right after the fiasco with Ananias and Sapphira. The church was increasingly faced with major distractions, but remained on message.

The Sanhedrin had their own sort of zeal. They were so wrapped up in their own perspective that they saw God's miracles as a hindrance. They impotently tried to intimidate the apostles, tried to impose their authority over them. It took one of their most respected elders to get them to even consider the possibility that the apostles could be doing God’s work.

· Are we more zealous in protecting our own interests than we are in advancing God's?

· Do we miss miracles around us because we're looking for the payoff for ourselves?

Zeal means dying to oneself.

The apostles left the Sanhedrin, rejoicing because they had been counted worthy of suffering disgrace for the Name. – Acts 5:41

Peter and John have already been arrested and threatened. This time, the Sadducees target the apostles as a whole. They seek to humiliate them by throwing them in jail, then flogging them. But even when the apostles are physically beaten, they take it with a smile. They praise God for the pain, and they don't even slow down. To them, the Good News is still good, and God continues to empower them to deliver it. They honestly don’t care what happens to them. They preach that Jesus is the Lord over everything, and they prove it by their self-sacrifice.

Gamaliel remembered the rebels of the past, whose followers scattered when things got tough. He was content to let the church prove itself. If it were not God empowering them, they would be like all the others: self-preservation would kick in, and they would go home. They didn’t back down. Soon, the Greek word for witness would give us the word martyr.

· Do your priorities prove your faith?

Death by Dishonesty

2009-12-11T17:00:00.000-08:00

Acts 4:32-5:11

We have arrived at the disturbing story of Ananias and Sapphira, who were both struck dead after withholding money from the church and lying about it. That consequence may seem drastic to us; after all, who among us has hasn't gotten away with worse? Why was their punishment so harsh? And what was their sin, really?

Ananias and Sapphira's deaths are not unprecedented.
Similar situations occurred in the Old Testament. Think of Korah and his followers. They rebelled against Moses, and the earth opened under their feet. Soon after, God sent a plague that killed thousands. (Numbers 16) Think of Achan, who took spoils of war against God's command. He, his family, and everything he owned ended up buried in rocks in the Valley of Trouble. (Joshua 7) The results of rebellion against God are drastic in Israel's early history.

Note that Ananias and Sephira are struck down in the infancy of the church. In either case, if corruption were to be tolerated, it could set the tone for generations to come. In order to keep Israel or the church holy from the start, God was willing to go to great lengths.

Furthermore, as Dr. Ravi Zacharias notes, the time of the Exodus was thick with miracles, proofs of God's presence. The early church was similarly surrounded by supernatural displays. There was no excuse for them to doubt; thus, the consequences of their sins were appropriate.

Are we wise enough to learn from others' mistakes? As in the rest of life, some of the most valuable lessons in the Bible can be learned from those who set a bad example.

Ananias and Sapphira were guilty of hypocrisy.
In John, Jesus refers to the Holy Spirit as the Spirit of truth. (14:17, 15:26, 16:13) Thus far, the church has been humble, honest, bold, and generous to the point of self-sacrifice (Acts 2:45, 4:34), in keeping with the character of God. Ananias and Sephira's action ran counter to the holiness that the Spirit was cultivating in the church. If they wanted to look more holy and generous than they were willing to act, they were at the least prideful and self-centered. If they were directed by the Spirit to donate the funds, but didn't and lied about it, they were rebellious and greedy. Whatever their motive, they exemplified what Jesus railed against the Pharisees for doing: having a false outer appearance while neglecting true holiness (Matt. 23:25-26).

The Holy Spirit desires us to grow in holiness (2 Cor. 7:1, Eph. 4:22-24). God's goal is not for us to merely appear holy, but to truly be holy, as He is (Lev. 19:2, 1 Peter 1:15-16). Honesty is an essential part of that. Honesty with Him, with ourselves, and with each other. It is crucial for the life of the church. Accountability only works when we are genuine and open. Much-needed conviction can only take hold when we recognize what we have done. And our prayer life loses strength when we hide from God.

How honest are we with God, ourselves, and one another? Is there something left unsaid in prayer, accountability, or within ourselves?

Why Connection is Everything

2009-12-11T07:00:00.000-08:00

Acts 3:1-4:31

We look back in awe at the courage and faith of the early church, the incredible miracles that surrounded them, and the overwhelming growth they experienced. Even when persecution arose from the religious and political authorities, the church did not so much as slow down. What was their secret? They were solidly connected with God, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. We see, through their example, what a difference connection makes.

1) Connection gives us access to God's power.
“It is Jesus' name and the faith that comes through him that has given this complete healing to him, as you can all see.” -Acts 3:16
The Sanhedrin ran headfirst into a problem: you can't argue with a transformed life. Though the disagreed with the apostles' spiritual beliefs, they had nothing to say against the miracle standing before them. (Acts 4:14) Note that it was not the beggar's faith that healed him: it was Peter's. (Acts 3:6) Peter's faith allowed something to happen in another person's life that had never happened before. (Acts 3:2) And Peter doesn't even take credit for it! (Acts 3:12) Not for the miracle, and not even for his own faith. Without God's grace, there's nothing to put our faith in. Peter was ready to give up after his betrayal, but Jesus showed him grace, and restored him. Now, Peter is doing his part: taking that faith and putting it into action.

· Does our faith press the limits of the impossible?

If not, we have only to connect with God more, and deeper. He does not expect all of us to come upon that kind of faith suddenly; but He wants us to grow our connection to Him more and more.

2) Connection attunes us to God's heart.

When they saw the courage of Peter and John and realized that they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and they took note that these men had been with Jesus. –Acts 4:13
Look at the choices Peter and John make. They see past the beggar's immediate problem to the deeper issue. They boldly address the crowd when it suddenly gathers. (Acts 3:12) When they are on trial, they answer even more boldly to the people that have authority to punish them. (Acts 4:13) And when they are released, they pray not for an end to the persecution facing them, but the courage to move forward despite it. (Acts 4:29) The Spirit in them not only guides them to capitalize on the opportunities around them, but is changing their hearts to look more and more like God's. They are in tune with His will, and His character.

· Are we becoming more like Him every day, or less?

Again, the answer is connection. By learning His character in the Word, praying to Him constantly, and using any other means of grace He gives us, we cultivate the connection between us.

When they were ordered to stop preaching Jesus, Peter and John said, "We cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard." They were on a God-given mission, and were accomplishing it by the power and leading of the Spirit. For them, as it should always be for us, connection was first.

The Fellowship

2009-12-10T17:00:00.000-08:00

Acts 2:42-47

With the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost, the world changed forever. Even in the moment, the lives of those that joined the followers of Jesus were made new. These were conversions that altered the lives of those that converted. They devoted themselves not just to God, but to the church. And because the Spirit guided them and they gave themselves to it, the church began to accomplish its purpose.

1) The church is meant to help us grow spiritually.
They devoted themselves to the apostles teaching... to the breaking of bread and to prayer. -Acts 2:42

The Body of Christ is uniquely set up to provide accountability, encouragement, and a forum to worship. Sure, we could praise God by ourselves; but the collection of testimonies and stories in the Body gives us fuel we would not otherwise have. Even the structure of a worship service provides focus. We could pray by ourselves, and should; but the budding church did not miss out on the power of gathering to pray. We at Crossroads have seen the fruit of it, too. Certainly, we can gain insight in our personal Bible study time; but the church provides teachers who are called and trained specifically to study the Word and listen for God in order to preach and teach.

· Has churchgoing become mechanical us? Do we need to re-train our hearts to seek God in our religion?

2) The church is meant to be a family.
They gave to anyone as he had need. -Acts 2:45

God has been more generous with us than we could ever account. He has lavished patience, forgiveness, and acceptance on us, along with innumerable other blessings in our day to day lives. The early Christians displayed that generosity to one another, and we are called to do the same. They saw that their brethren were in need, and stepped up. It doesn't say if they sold their surplus goods, or gave sacrificially. Either way, they gave what they had to take care of their family. Fellowship is not only about the mutual feelings of togetherness, but the community itself. It is a community in which everyone has a share: the Body of Christ. It's the nature of the church to be a family. The Church is meant as a source of strength for us all, and a means for God to deliver His grace to us.

· What are we doing to reach out to our "brothers and sisters" to make them truly like brothers and sisters?

· What needs do you see in your church friends that you could help address? How can you help the church nationwide, or overseas?

3) The church is meant to multiply.
And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved. -Acts 2:47

Is it any wonder, with a community that loving? With a people that self-sacrificial? The new Christians were defying the status quo not only with their controversial beliefs, but with their uncommon devotion to one another. Miracles surrounded them. They were generous, joyful, and bold. They gained a reputation that drew people in. Note also that even for the early church, worship was not confined to the temple. Praising God flowed naturally into their homes, and their daily lives.

· How are we modeling Jesus and the Church to the world? What impression do we put forth in our daily lives and our worship services?

Do we make room for God to meet and move us in our daily routines?

The Harvest

2009-12-10T07:00:00.000-08:00

Acts 2:22-41

Today, a church would make national headlines if it added 3,000 people in a year. 2,000 years ago in Jerusalem, the church gained 3,000 people in a single day. The Spirit worked in Peter and the disciples, giving them not only the words, but the languages in which to speak. Then, Peter's sermon sealed the deal.

We are, each of us, called to spread the Gospel. At some point, the time will come for us to witness verbally. Peter's sermon illustrates several key principles of evangelism:

1) A good witness speaks the hearer's language.
"Jesus of Nazareth was a man accredited by God to you by miracles, wonders and signs,, which God did among you through him, as you yourselves know." -Acts 2:22b

Not only does the Spirit provide the means to speak to the crowd, but Peter works from their frame of reference. Note that Jesus' parables center largely around farming and shepherding, which would be immediately familiar to the crowds following him. Peter starts with the miracle taking place before their eyes, and moves to the signs Jesus performed. Everyone knew about Jesus' miracles, and many in the crowd had doubtless seen them firsthand. Suddenly, the convictions that follow are that much more personal, hit that much closer to home. He starts with what they agree on, and moves to the more controversial, difficult issues.

· Does our witness bring the word to people, or do we expect them to come to us? Do we speak into their lives, their circumstances?

2) A good witness keeps the focus on God.
"Men of Israel, listen to this..." -Acts 2:22a

Peter has already risen to prominence in the church. He is, as he speaks, fulfilling Jesus' blessing on him that he will be the rock on which the church is built. (Matt. 16:18) Furthermore he is in the midst of a miracle. The Spirit has poured out an amazing blessing on him, which the crowd does not have. Peter has a few he could be proud and superior. But instead, he's on point. He doesn't turn the focus to himself. He doesn't even focus on the tongues of Pentecost except in their function. He places the focus squarely on God, and on the mission he's been given.

· Does the way we speak return the focus to God, or take it away from Him? Do we miss opportunities to witness by focusing too much on our own preferences and agendas?

· God does miracles for a purpose; do we miss that purpose wrapped up in how it directly affects us?

3) A good witness doesn't back down from the truth.
"Therefore let all Israel be assured of this: God has made this Jesus, whom you crucified, both Lord and Christ." -Acts 2:36

They were cut to the heart. (v.37) This is what Peter and the Spirit were going for. They wanted the crowd to be stricken. Horrified. But not so the disciples could feel better than them. Not so the Christians could assert their superiority over them. No, there was a goal in mind: godly sorrow leads to repentance. (2 Cor. 7:10) If the method was brutally direct, the aim was no less clear. "Repent," says Peter. "Save yourselves." He didn't just shock them. He didn't merely scare them. He pleaded with them. (v.40)

· The time will come when we have to speak the hard truth in love. Does pride creep into our witness? Or are we, even when we have to be firm, always focused on the truth and the mission?

Simon and the Spirit

2009-12-09T18:00:00.000-08:00

Acts 2:14-21

Peter's sermon on Pentecost reveals several ways that the Holy Spirit wants to work in us.

The Spirit transforms.
Peter stands up in front of a crowd of thousands and proclaims Christ. This is a change of pace from the night of the Passover, just 50 days ago. Then, he denied Jesus rather than risk getting in trouble with the law (Matt. 26:69-75; Mark 14:66-72; Luke 22:54-62; John 18:15-27). He'll be in trouble with the law again soon, and this time, he won't back down. Jesus has forgiven him, the Spirit has empowered him, and Peter is a different man for it. He isn't shy about it, either; he doesn't just sit back, vaguely grateful but ineffective. He goes to work. Through his ministry on Pentecost, and for years after, everyone can plainly see the Holy Spirit working in him.

· How has the Spirit transformed you? And how can you use that transformation to witness to the world?

The Spirit guides.
You might expect Peter expect to say something stupid at this point. Like when he tried to tell Jesus He was wrong. (Matt. 16:21-23) If you were one of the people in the crowd, you might not expect much from the big dumb Galilean standing up in the middle of the ruckus. But the sermon that follows is eloquent, on point, and effective. Notice also, Peter could have let that "wine" comment slide, but he didn't. In fact, he used it to open his sermon, answering the criticism of the ignorant. Peter doesn't respond to the "wait, aren't these guys just Galilean hicks?" comment. No, he steps up to defend the work of the Spirit. That's what happens when Jesus and the Spirit get involved.

· Are we ready to follow that "I think I should" feeling? To embrace opportunities as they arise?

· Are we humble concerning ourselves, and jealous concerning God? Are we ready take punishment if we have to, but unwilling to compromise the truth?

The Spirit illuminates.
Where does he get this stuff? He's a fisherman! Maybe he heard the Scripture in the synagogue. Perhaps he heard from one of Jesus' lessons. But we know this: Jesus "opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures," (Luke 24:45) and Jesus told the disciples that the Spirit would remind them of everything Jesus taught. (John 14:26) Watch Peter weave together the words Old Testament. The Spirit is putting everything together. Matthew Henry said this: "It is observable that though Peter was filled with the Holy Spirit, yet he did not set aside the scriptures, nor think himself above them." Nothing of the value of the scriptures is lost by the indwelling of the Spirit; indeed, His presence illuminates the Bible to us, and allows us to gain more.

Do we allow God to speak to us through the Bible? Are we waiting for God to speak to us, all the while leaving the Bible unopened? Or, are we checking off the Bible box day to day, rather than taking the time and attention to let the Spirit speak?

Signs and Wonders

2009-12-09T07:00:00.000-08:00

Acts 2:1-13
Signs and Wonders

Jesus announced His advent with stars and angels. Here, the Spirit makes His grand entrance on the day of Pentecost, kicking off the church with an amazing display of power.

1) God's miracles are for a purpose.
Amazed and perplexed, they asked one another, "What does this mean?" –Acts 2:12

Remember when the Pharisees asked for a miracle, and Jesus said no? (Mark 8:11-13) Jesus tells us the purpose of doing miracles: to draw people to God. (John 10:37-38) Look at the strategy at work here on the day of Pentecost. It's a holiday, and people from all over (Acts 2:5-11) are in Jerusalem for the festival. Jesus has departed, and is waiting to usher in the age of the Spirit-led church. So, what does He do? He comes down and miraculously grants His followers the power to speak in other languages. He told His followers to be witnesses, and empowered them to do so.

· What miracles are we praying for? Remember to pray for God to show Himself to the world through us in miraculous ways.

2) Sometimes we're the miracle.
All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them. –Acts 2:4

So many of God's miracles involve people doing something they could simply not do otherwise. Here, we have His disciples preaching in languages they don't even know. God gave Samson supernatural strength to fight the Philistines. (Judges 13-16) Jesus gave His disciples the authority to heal the sick and drive out demons. (Matthew 10:1) He kept Paul alive in order to reach Rome and preach. (Acts 28:1-6) The Spirit desires to empower us to do God's work.

· Are we doing things we couldn't do without God? Do we take the risks He calls us to take?

· Do we witness to the fact that God has healed us?

3) Some will see and not believe.
Some, however, made fun of them and said, "They have had too much wine.” –Acts 2:13

For some reason, people will sometimes just not get it. Hail fell to the hot sands of Egypt, and still Pharaoh refused to submit to God. (Exodus 9:34) Sometimes that's because of stubbornness and pride, which can overshadow brilliant arguments, loving care, and even blatant miracles. Sometimes, it's because they don't know enough, or haven't seen enough. It's not up to us how people will react. It is only up to us to obey the God who loves the ignorant and the stubborn, and patiently, continuously seeks them out.

· Do we face opposition graciously, or vengefully? Are we ready to embrace our enemies, or bite their heads off?

Replacing Judas

2009-12-08T18:00:00.000-08:00

Acts 1:12-26

Judas is one of the most disturbing figures in scripture. How can a man who walked alongside Jesus Himself go so wrong? What was he thinking? We may never know the reasons behind his betrayal, but we can learn from it.

1) Appearances can be deceptive.

“He was one of our number…” –Acts 1:17

When Jesus named his betrayer, did you notice that no one said, "It's Judas, isn't it?" No, they "stared at one another, at a loss to know which of them he meant." (John 13:22) They went around the table, one by one: is it me? (Matthew 26:22) He really did minister alongside them, like Peter said. Judas shocked everyone when he sold out his master.

· This is why we are told not to judge. The apparently holy may fall, and the scum of the earth may repent. Jesus alone knew what was coming. Likewise, God knows us, what we're capable of, and what he wants from us. (1 Sam. 16:6-7)

· This is why we need accountability in our beliefs and our actions. If we are not honest with one another about our inner thoughts, they can consume us. Whatever Judas' reasoning, we can be sure that his perspective was corrupted. Do you have a small group or accountability partner? Do you come to church regularly? Do you inspect yourself in the Word?

2) Following God means truly submitting to God.

“…and shared in this ministry.” –Acts 1:17

Judas not only walked with Jesus, but shared in His ministry. He witnessed, and perhaps even performed, miracles. He heard and saw the same things the other apostles did. When we hear the accounts of the apostles going out to preach and perform miracles, it doesn't say "except Judas." (Matthew 10:1) In the end, though, his agenda was more important to him. He tried to force his will on Jesus.

· This is why Jesus spent so much time describing the heart behind the Law. God's will is to connect us to Himself through Jesus. (Matt. 7:21-23) His goal is to re-create His heart in us. If Judas had that heart within him, could he have sold Jesus out?

3) Our choices can limit God's options.

“…this apostolic ministry, which Judas left…” –Acts 1:25

What would have happened if Judas hadn't killed himself? Now, we can only speculate. Note that it is Peter who takes the lead in finding Judas' replacement. Peter, who had denied knowing Jesus in order to protect himself, but was forgiven and reinstated in the end (John 21:15-19).

· Do we take choices out of God's hands in our own lives? Ignoring the Spirit's leadings and God's commands minimize or negate opportunities for God to do His work.

· What causes us to lose hope? The cross is bigger. Nothing can separate us from the love of God. (Rom. 8:38-39) Do we believe that?

From the Ground Up

2009-12-07T23:45:00.000-08:00

Acts 1:1-11

Just under 2,000 years ago, it was a handful of oppressed Jews in a small pocket of the Middle East. The Acts of the Apostles shows us our roots. It shows us how the church began, and the great lengths to which God went to preserve it and uphold it to this very day.

The first eleven verses of Acts are a powerful reminder of what the church is all about. In this short passage, we have the fundamentals of our faith.

1) Jesus died and rose again.

"After his suffering, he showed himself to these men and gave many convincing proofs that he was alive." -Acts 1:3

Jesus' death and resurrection prove his love, his authority, his agency in our lives and is the essence of the Good News. Without this fact, there is no church.
Is Jesus the source of your hope? Does the Cross overshadow everything else in your life?

2) The Holy Spirit lives in us.

"You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you." -Acts 1:8a

"Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the gift my Father promised, which you have heard me speak about. For John baptized withwater, but in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit." -Acts 1:4-5

We are not merely followers of a religious system, struggling to overcome our weaknesses and achieve a higher state of being. Jesus' sacrifice made us right with God. The indwelling of the Holy Spirit, God Himself, empowers us to live. The Spirit guides our words, inspires our choices, changes our hearts, and transforms us from within to look more and more like God. The church is defined by the leadership of the Holy Spirit.
Is it He that guides you? Do you really seek Him, listen for Him? Are there places where you seek to keep Him out?

3) We are on a mission.

And you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." -Acts 1:8b

The church exists to build up the faithful, worship God, and spread the Gospel to the world, as defined by Jesus himself. These are his last words before his ascension.
As we study Acts, watch for the word witness. It's everywhere. It is the inescapable purpose of the church: to display and tell of the glory of God to everyone who needs to see it and hear it. And that's everyone.
How can you contribute to the mission?

4) Jesus will return.

"This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven." Acts 1:11

It's fitting that the angels' implied meaning is "get moving!" We can't call the day when Jesus will return, but we know for certain that he will. It will be a day of hope and fear for humanity.
Everyone will see the truth, in the end, and all the excuses will run out. Just as we have a single lifetime on Earth, the world as we know it will not last forever. That truth should both excite and humble us. The enemy's time is short; so is ours.
What has God called you to do before the end comes?

When the church took root and began to grow, these facts are what gave it strength. We, too, must continue to draw our strength, our purpose, from the foundation that God has laid for us. If we deviate from these truths, we are lost.

Last time, on ...delerium

2009-12-07T22:56:00.000-08:00

Much has happened since the last post. Oh, so much. The honeymoon, by the way, was great.

I'd blame my lack of blogging to the mad crazy schedule leading up to the wedding, with Thanksgiving shortly after, and I might just be able to get away with it. But here's a sad fact.

I promised God I'd make the time to write. Since then, I've typed a few scraps. Excuses fail when you've made a promise.

So, to kickstart this old blog o' mine, I'll be posting my notes from Sunday school! I've been developing and teaching a Bible study on the Book of Acts. If you wanna come listen, be at my church on Sunday mornings at 9:15. Crossroads Christian Fellowship, 5501 Dewey Drive, Carmichael. You love it.

Check back here shortly!

Who Sees

2009-10-04T23:13:00.000-07:00

What patience, His, to watch our stumblings,
having paid for every one,
and then with yearning heart to seek us,
only then to watch us run.

The longing gaze of He Who Sees is
bearing down upon the blind
who scratch and scrabble for some purchase,
solid ground long left behind.

The scale His, the weight, the measure,
His the standard, His the bar
that not one of the prideful fallen
have approached yet by afar.

And yet in whispers, shouts and screaming,
deep within, and far above
He speaks aloud, and proves in power,
evermore, His word is love.

Burden of Proof

2009-09-29T00:35:00.001-07:00

In front of the courthouse in downtown Sacramento is a sculpture. A
fountain. The chaotic, curving shapes remind me of nothing so much as a series of distorted antlers, flowing from one to another. There is a single break in the jagged ring, one small gap where the pieces don't quite come together.

If the sculpture were a criminal case, the jury would have to acquit.

I spent a month on the jury for a rape case. I listened as the district attorney worked methodically, laying out the evidence piece by piece. Asking every question from every angle. Setting out an array of facts, emphasizing certain points seemingly at random. I don't envy his task: how can you convince twelve people of anything at all, let alone beyond a reasonable doubt?

The defense attorney countered at every point he could, seeking to stab holes in the picture the prosecution sought to form. The events of the night in question blurred. Testimonies and lab results and photographs all smashed together to form a disjointed, self-contradicting image.

I know now why attorneys make closing arguments. The DA stood and spoke, and the chaos took shape. And unlike the fountain outside, the pieces came together.

I wasn't expecting it. It took a few days in the jury room for myself and the other eleven to settle our minds. Between the first day and the last, we had some strange conversations. We guessed at motives and argued about their relevance. We spun off on tangents and took hours to come back to the black-and-white instructions the court clerk had left us. I wasn't ready to vote guilty when I walked into the room for the first time. Only a few were. Maybe, on some level, we were already convinced. Maybe we just needed time for our souls to be sure.

It's a weird thing to look someone in the eye after convicting them of rape. Weird to be okay with the anger you see there. Even weirder to receive, after it's all over, a certificate of appreciation for your service.

During jury selection, the judge asked if anyone had served on a jury before. To each person that had, she asked if it was "a satisfying experience." I was intrigued by the question then, and I understand it even better now. I understand the odd, tense relief of taking the vote, and having it unanimous.

Jubilee

2009-08-22T23:06:00.000-07:00

I remember telling Ashley. On and around New Year's, I get a sense of what the year to come will be like. Strangely, it's been pretty accurate over the past few years. A handful of minutes into this year, I remember telling Ashley: this year, long-held dreams will come to pass.

Jen and I are getting married in November.

I'm a licensed minister of the Wesleyan Church. Pastor Brian.

Those two things blow my mind every time I think about them. They're unbelievably wonderful, and really scary. They fulfill old longings, and require me to grow. They're part of me becoming who I was always meant to be.

I kinda don't know what to do with myself, sometimes. I'm utterly amazed by what God has entrusted me with. How He's blessed me. Sometimes, I don't get it. I forget how unbearably generous He is. What high hopes He has for us. It's stunning to me.

About a year ago, God started working on me in an area that was always a bit of a problem: my desire for a wife. It got obsessive at times. He wanted me to stop worrying, stop striving, and trust Him. He'd wanted that for years, but about a year ago, he really began to push me to grow. In the end, I did as He asked. I surrendered my longings; I told Him I'd wait for Him to move, and just trust Him.

He moved.

Dreams aren't meant to remain dreams when they're part of God's design. He has plans, and He wants to carry them out. In us. I have plenty of dreams and desires still to entrust to God. This year, He has returned two of my greatest to me, with His approval.

I'm still stunned.

Longsuffering

2009-06-15T23:04:00.000-07:00

If God weren't as patient as He is, I'd be so screwed.

I can't imagine dealing with someone like me from His standpoint. And yet time after time, He does. And He makes sure the stories get recorded and passed down to us, so we know.

Abram laughs at Him when He promises him he'll have a son in his old age. Moses thinks of every excuse why he's not the guy to lead Israel out of captivity, then begs Him to send someone else. Gideon asks not just for one sign, but a series of signs to prove that God is who He says He is. Elijah runs and hides when the going gets tough. Jonah refuses his task and jumps on a ship to Spain. The apostles desert Jesus when the authorities come armed.

And I stand there stuttering “I can't do it!” whenever He calls me to a ministry that doesn't come to me easily. Or one that does.

This is God we're talking about. God, who doesn't just abandon us to failure. God, who helps His servants.

Abram had a son when he was 80. Moses is arguably the most revered figure in Jewish history. Gideon is remembered as a mighty warrior and a savior of Israel. Elijah is known as perhaps the greatest prophet of the Old Testament. Jonah actually delivered the message that saved thousands of people, though he still rebelled against God in the end. The apostles died at the hands of those who tried in vain to stop them from proclaiming Jesus to the world.

And I have all their examples to look back on. Not to mention the miracles He's wrought in my own life.

I often feel inadequate to the tasks before me, and maybe I am. But God is not. And I can be sure that anything He has called me to do, He will empower me to do.

I know that in my mind. I just need my heart to agree.

Who says?

2009-05-16T17:02:00.000-07:00

Yeah. What.

Day 40

2009-04-11T21:21:00.000-07:00

Lent is a season of fasting. The day before Lent begins is, for some, the biggest party of the year. In New Orleans, they actually change the rules for Mardi Gras; things that are illegal on any other day of the year are allowed on Fat Tuesday. May as well live it up now, the logic goes, if we're gonna have to be all pious for a month plus. At least, that's how it started. Now, people join the party without knowing why.

The entire point of Lent is to remember. To understand Easter better, and all that leads up to it. To deliberately draw near to God. So I think, if we really had the right perspective, the biggest party of the year would start tomorrow.

It's almost Sunday. When the fasting ends, and the feast begins. Remember why. It's worth celebrating.

Quiet

2009-04-11T18:41:00.000-07:00

Golgotha was quiet, and had been for a day. The guards and the onlookers had long since departed. The two dead thieves still hung from their crosses, mouths open as though still in a weary plea for mercy.

Only one desperate soul remained on the hill. Incensed. Seething. Muttering hatefully.

"This isn't over... this is not over...."

But he knew it was. He knew it was over the moment Jesus said it was. Finished. Done. The moment Jesus cried out and took it all.

Had they seen? They had to have seen him. The moment he realized that it wasn't his plan that was coming to pass. That single moment of shock.

When all the sins of the world piled onto God's only son. When the hideous blackness descended, and was still not enough to block the Glory blazing out from him. When Jesus breathed his last, and took it all with him.

When all Satan's work fell apart before his very eyes.

He stared at the ground where the cross had been driven. There, he caught sight of a stone, spattered with blood. The blood.

Satan roared. He then took a long, long moment to steady himself.

"This is not over," he snarled, and stormed from the hill.

Later You Will Understand

2009-04-09T22:59:00.000-07:00

This is where the story begins to take a turn for the worst.

It's a festival in Jerusalem. The Jews are celebrating the power of God, eating the Passover meal together as families. Jesus takes it a step further. He, God himself, stoops low and washes their feet. He sets for them an example of humility. And he commands them, "as I have loved you, so you must love one another." (John 13:34) A mandate. Hence, Maundy Thursday.

But only hours later, Jesus is in chains. The apostles are scattered. Peter, terrified, is denying that he even knows his friend and master. The only innocent man is on trial, and will soon be unjustly condemned.

Yet, a plan is unfolding. Older than Rome, older than Earth, and older than time. In the beginning, Jesus knew this was coming. And he accepted it willingly.

Remember that tomorrow. On the most horrific day ever to be called Good.

"Unless I wash you, you have no part with me." -Jesus (John 13:8)

And Counting

2009-04-08T23:31:00.000-07:00

"Hey. Simon."

Silence.

"...Pete? You awake?"

"Mmph. Go to bed, Johnny."

"You think it's gonna happen soon?"

"...what's gonna happen soon..."

"The abomination and everything. What the Rabbi was talking about today."

"He said he didn't even know that."

"I know. It's just... he's been acting so different lately."

"Yeah. I know. Like something big's coming."

"So I'm just wondering."

"...I dunno, Johnny. Maybe. But you remember what he said."

"Be ready."

"Be ready. So that's our job. Don't worry about it. Just keep waiting."

"Says Peter, the patient one."

"Tch. I wouldn't be sad if he restored Israel tomorrow. I just..."

"...don't know."

"Yeah. But I think you're right. Something big's coming."

"I hope so."

"Me too."

Silence.

"...don't worry about it, Johnny. Get some rest."

"Yeah... hey. Do you think he's gonna do something during the Passover?"

"Mmm. Dunno. Should be good."

2009-04-07T23:44:00.001-07:00

Faith is not just trust.

Faith is hope.

May Easter be the source of all our hope.

Friday's Coming.

2009-04-06T22:20:00.000-07:00

John 12:20-36 is intense. It's a piece of the New Testament I haven't spent much time studying, but I looked over it tonight in honor of Holy Week. Easter is coming, and in this passage, no one is more aware of it than Jesus.

When I first looked through Jesus' words and reactions here, it didn't make sense to me. His words didn't seem to fit together. And I had no idea why the voice of God would make such a sudden intrusion at such a seemingly innocuous moment. But it does make sense.

Look at verses 23 and 24. Jesus knows he has to die to fulfill his purpose on earth. And he's not looking forward to it (verse 27). Even so, "Father, glorify your name." That's his choice. To make the sacrifice for us, knowing the pain he has yet to endure. This is no small moment.

Then a voice came from heaven: "I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again." The crowd that stood there and heard it said that it had thundered. Others said, "An angel has spoken to him." Jesus answered, "This voice has come for your sake, not mine." -John 12:28-30 (ESV)

There's a lot to celebrate this week, in which God displayed His humility and love.

The Messenger: Destination

2009-04-05T23:23:00.000-07:00

The thought distantly occurred to Phelps that he had not technically completed the baptism ceremony. He hadn't had the time to speak his line - so do I - before the command hit him. North, said the voice, and north he went. When the crowds thickened, his run slowed to a very fast walk, dodging between pedestrians and cutting through alleys.

He was heading deeper into the shade of downtown New Sidon, where the buildings were more often constructed in the N'aaa style, poking three stories above ground and extending several stories below. Their broad, flat roofs nearly touched, scattering slivers of light over the crowd. The hot white sun flashed at him between the gaps as he moved northward.

The word had burned an imprint on his mind, and he had moved without thinking. The implications were only just beginning to chase him down. He was seeing apparitions and hearing voices. But others were seeing them, and hearing them. Which meant they were really from....

His pace slowed, and he held a hand to his forehead. Mariah was a priestess. She thought in terms of God constantly. Could it have been a coincidence? N'aaa were known for their insight. Could she just have picked up on something in his demeanor?

But he knew nothing about her, or the temple. The angel had.

Even as he thought it, he stopped walking. A large building stood straight ahead of him. A flight of broad steps descended to the main entrance, with a fountain cascading down the steps on the far right. A water feature, in New Sidon. Phelps had never seen anything so opulent.

Here.

The voice. The same calm certainty. The same authority.

God was speaking to him.

Expense Account, Here I Come

2009-04-04T00:18:00.001-07:00

Just checked in at the Best Western in Covina - pardon me, West
Covina. Elizabeth and I are attending a seminar on forming faith-based
nonprofit organizations. That's right. My church sent me out of town
for a seminar. Not only that, but I'm headed to Anaheim in a few weeks
for a conference for work.

This is my first experience with business travel. I'm glad I had E to
talk to on the way down. My sympathy to those who are on the road a
lot alone.

Maybe it's just the novelty, but a hotel room has a certain mystique.
A room where no one lives. Where someone else just was.

By Your Love

2009-04-03T09:46:00.000-07:00

In Jordan, publicly preaching the Christian faith is illegal. This we learned from two missionary friends who gave us a presentation in Bible study last night. They've lived in the Middle East for two years, now, and have met with some success in their mission.

How? By openly defying the Jordanian government and boldly preaching the Word on every streetcorner? I mean, really, isn't that what missionaries are supposed to do?

Nope.

They make friends. They get involved in the community. They serve in the local Arab Christian church. They love people, and take care of people. And when the opportunity arises to speak openly about Jesus, when someone asks a question about faith or requests an Arabic copy of the Bible... they do.

They've discovered in a new way the power of Christian fellowship. Of people just loving one another and serving God across cultures, races, and national boundaries. I'm glad for their example.

Not So Hopeless

2009-04-01T22:24:00.000-07:00

A little over five years ago, this is what I was thinking:

"I used to be a hopeless romantic. Turns out that part of that deal is being hopeless. "

I spent years stomping on my romantic side, and it's messed with my perspective. What seemed to me like wisdom at the time was obviously just an expression of lonely bitterness. I reacted, not to the perfectly normal desire to find a soulmate, but to the painful desperation I felt at the time to find someone. For too long, they were the same thing to me.

It's taken me years of personal growth and prayer, but I'm finally able to separate the two. To be honest, romantic affection apart from intense heartache is still kind of a new idea for me. I'm still making a few mental adjustments.

But, thank God, I'm learning what it's supposed to be like.

Bicentennial

2009-03-31T23:15:00.000-07:00

This is my 200th ...delerium post. It'll be a short one.

God has blessed me recently in so many ways. Even so, it's incredibly rare to have a day where everything just goes right. Since he and Jen both read this, let me say: thank you both for today.

Best day in a long, long time.

The Messenger: Instructions

2009-03-30T21:19:00.000-07:00

"You knew I was coming," Phelps finally said.

Deacon Mariah smiled, the tiny creases between the thin plates of her face stretching apart. "A dream," she said, her wispy voice purring over the "r" sound. "Yeshua's angel."

On the transport had been a congregation of New Lunar Baptists. After listening to their ravings over the long trip, he had almost gotten used to hearing the Christ called Jesus, rather than Yeshua. Mariah spoke the name carefully, with reverence. A far cry, as it were, from the proselytizers on the ship.

Phelps could already tell that Mariah spoke English only with great effort. But a half-N'aaa priestess in this city... "Wrri, ihhi tchaun'eh an hal," he said in Nrru. She told me to come to you.

Mariah drew her head back in a serpentine motion, again expressing her surprise. "And she told me to baptize you," she said simply, in unaccented Nrru. Even as she spoke, she knelt down and took a handful of green-blue sand.

Phelps froze. "I... wait..."

The deaconess fixed her blank gaze on him, her hand held high, gently trickling sand. "It is unbefitting a prophet to be unbaptized. Will you submit to it?" She drew herself up, facing him directly.

"I'm not... look, the last time..."

Her hand was suddenly on his chest. For a moment, he forgot that it was a common N'aaa gesture of friendship. "Yeshua knows your fears," she was saying. Gently. "And he says to you this: you did not leave me there. I went after you from that place."

The chapel, back in Phoenix. The guilt. He was there again. But now, with her words - with his words - the weight of the memory evaporated. All at once. Gone.

Oh, Lord... "I will submit to it," Phelps breathed.

Mariah did not hesitate for even a moment. Phelps' chest tightened as her hand drifted over his shoulders and head, pouring a trail of sand. "You have one Lord," she said. "What is his name?"

"Yeshua." The sand settled on him, and with it, a strange calm. He held still.

Silence. In the quiet, the noise of the city far distant, he lost track of time. Only three seconds passed, but Phelps felt every moment before she spoke again. "And as he died, so have you," Mariah intoned. "And..." She stopped, took a gasp of air. He could have sworn he heard her giggle. "And as he lives...."

In response, Phelps tilted his head and leaned back, spilling the sand down his back. He had barely enough time to register his suprise at how easy the ceremony was after all before the sensation hit.

It was a voice, but not audible. A compulsion, but not irresistable. A certainty. A call. A command.

North.

Phelps hesitated for only an instant. "Which way is north?" he demanded in Nrru.

Deacon Mariah pointed, and he ran.

Best Face Forward

2009-03-30T18:46:00.000-07:00

You can learn a lot about people on the internet. This, for example, is my boss's boss's professional website for her side business.

I am more keenly aware now of how what I post here represents me, particularly now that I'm employed by the church. It's tempting to put disclaimers on all my opinions now, especially after Jen grilled/teased me about some of my earlier views on love. Heh.

I might have to go through the archives and see what the heck I've gotten myself into.

Delicious and Nutritious

2009-03-27T22:32:00.001-07:00

The mere existence of overstuffed breakfast pizza is not enough to cause the downfall of Western civilization. Oh, no.

The fact that I'm happy to pay three bucks for it, eat the whole thing, and wash it down with black coffee? That doesn't bode well.

See the orange in the background? That makes that mass of protein and starch in the foreground part of a balanced breakfast.

A Single Step

2009-03-26T23:41:00.000-07:00

In this picture are a few things that I just decided will decorate my new office at church. In the background, an encouraging note written to me by Greg Hogan, an awesome man who helped form my young faith. On the left, two paper cranes, folded by Lindsey Ballard for a classmate with cancer. Little symbols of love and hope, with an Asian flair, no less.

The cross on the foreground was also a gift, specifically to decorate the office. It quotes Jeremiah 29:11-13 - to which I was specifically guided recently - and Psalm 32:8. Featured prominently is the word "Journey," which is not only a great reminder that I am a work in progress, but also reminds me of Sojourn. A perfect gift.

From my girlfriend.

You'll be hearing more about this girl. For now, I'll say this: her name is Jen, and she's amazing.

Today turned out to be pretty good after all.

Open Book

2009-03-25T21:42:00.000-07:00

[tonight, an excerpt from this evening's journal entry. a couple items have been redacted for privacy.

my journaling is sporadic, but it shouldn't be. i get the very distinct impression that God is pleased when i take the time to write out my prayers to Him and chronicle my life for future reference. came in handy tonight, which explains the first line.]

It's good you have me write this stuff down. Thank you.

I'm really tired, Lord. Just physically. If you want me to stay up and study more, spur me on. But my plan right now is to write a blog post, read through Acts some more… wait, why not that passage in 1 Cor that I've been quoting, but haven't gone back to? Geez. So there, and then probably some Acts. Then sleep.

Bless Nicole's job situation, Lord. Arrange it how you will. Mmm. I'm sorry for not praying for it earlier today. I pray that you bless her even now.

I'm really happy with my life right now, Lord. Thank you for that. You're so generous. I know I don't deserve any of this. And I'm not doing very well with what you've given me. But Lord, may I make you proud with what I do with the blessings you're giving me. The job at church, my friends, my time, everything. My every dream and my every resource.

[scatterbrained, vaguely ashamed, yet grateful and somewhat worshipful. that's me.]

The Messenger: Introductions

2009-03-24T22:48:00.000-07:00

St. Luke's Temple was not what Phelps had in mind. It took him two hours to make the 20-minute walk through New Sidon; two hours of feeble excuses rehearsed over and over, none of which could overcome the weight of the apparition outside the transport window. He had paced back and forth over the same three blocks, bumping constantly into traders and pilots, and eliciting curses in a dozen languages. With his training, he could have understood them all, had he been less distracted.

When he finally arrived at the Temple, he thought he might be in the wrong place.

It stood in a gap between two tall pseudocrete buildings, one gaudy orange, the other a matte white. He had not been thinking of a temple in the N'aaa fashion, certainly not for a temple to Christ. But there it was, the unwalled patch of blue-green sand, the surface fused into glass and polished. Like a calm, rolling sea of Earth, frozen between instants. On the back left corner of the patch sat the arrangement of transluscent red stones, as expected. But, Phelps noticed with a start, they depicted not the traditional N'aaaian sacred runes, but a cross.

He was about to step onto the undulating glass when he heard the voice.

"Rrrraun i'i'al-hn-cta'i."

The only N'aaa phrase he knew. Phelps looked down and tried unsuccessfully to hide his surprise at the creature who had addressed him. She wore a blindfold, a single, wide band of dark green cloth which covered where her nose would be if she were human. Or rather, full human. Her skin was more like a carapace - deep brown, with bright white dots like freckles - and her scalp smooth and hairless. She had four thin fingers on each hand, all of which ended in claws.

And the collar of her polyfiber vest was distinct in its round design. She was clergy. A deacon.

"...Deacon Mariah?" he said, mumbled and at a whisper.

The half-N'aaa priestess thrust forward her head in surprise. Then, she smiled. "Fel-uufs. Hallelu."

And once again, Phelps had no words.

Official

2009-03-23T21:52:00.000-07:00

It's a room of adequate size, with a single window looking out on the
hill behind the church. Until this afternoon, it was full of stacks
of chairs. The carpet is thick and gray, the walls white and covered
with taped-up Sunday School posters. The desk in the picture is a
very recent addition, scavaged hastily from another room.

When Michael showed me this little room, I got pretty excited. Why?

Because this is my office. And this, my friends, is a "before" picture.

Counterproductivity

2009-03-22T22:31:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure who ever thought procrastination was a good idea. Certainly hasn't done me any good yet.

The reason I put off things I have to do is because I don't want to put in the effort to get them done at the moment. I'd rather rest and be comfortable now, and work later. But that's not how it works. When I'm putting something off, I know I'm putting it off. What supposed rest I gain from procrastination isn't that restful, because worrying about getting something done takes a lot of energy - maybe more than just getting done the task at hand.

This is yesterday's blog post, by the way.

Chill.

2009-03-21T10:27:00.000-07:00

Fridays are my days of least discipline, sometimes intentionally, sometimes not.

I'd like to say I'm taking a Sabbath rest on Friday evenings, but like I said, it's not a normal, intentional thing I do. It may be in the future, but now, it depends very much on what's on my calendar.

The Jews were commanded in strict terms to do no work on the seventh day, but instead to rest and reflect on God. Saturday was the seventh day day of their week, so one could infer that the weekend is ordained by God. Heh.

Michael discussed the Sabbath with the college group once, and made a very interesting point. Our lives are increasingly busy, our calendars inordinately full. The Sabbath rest is an opportunity to just let go for a few hours, and acknowledge that God really is in control. To demonstrate that life doesn't fall apart when we take our hands off.

I think I should re-examine how I lay out my weekends. I'd really like to not just take time to rest and have fun, but really display that principle of trust in my life. Part of the issue is time management, part of it faith. That's a blend that confounds me, sometimes.

The Messenger

2009-03-19T23:03:00.000-07:00

"This is impossible," Phelps mumbled inaudibly, pressing himself against the wall opposite the window.

The woman floating outside the window nodded, her arms crossed over her chest. "It is." Her voice was in no way muffled by the thick transparent barrier between them.

"How are you-"

"When you arrive in New Sidon, go directly to St. Luke's Temple. There you will meet Deacon Mariah. She will give you your instructions."

Phelps gawked at her, mind racing.

Then, she smiled. "Farewell, prophet."

"Wait! Wh-"

"All passengers, please secure yourselves for landing. We will reach the outer atmosphere shortly. Arrival in New Tyre will be 7:00 am, local time."

Phelps looked up involuntarily at the intercom announcement, then looked back to the window to see nothing but stars.

When As Yet There Were None

2009-03-18T22:16:00.000-07:00

For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there were none of them.

Psalms 139:13-16 (ESV)

If you drew hard theology from this passage, you might make some conclusions about predestination and free will. But this is a poem. A song. That's what a Psalm is. It's not the best place to determine the specific workings of the spiritual. It is, however, the perfect place to learn to worship.

Sometimes God makes right turns. We think we know exactly where He's headed, and the path He'll take us along to get there. One thing you learn quickly when you try to follow God is that He loves off-roading.

Even though He's God, it's really easy to get annoyed at Him. To doubt Him. We get awfully attached to our own visions of our own lives, and when He - politely or not - informs us that He has a different vision, we tend to get up in arms.

In Psalm 139, David recognizes what we so readily forget. A simple fact that changes everything when we actually believe it.

God loves us, and He knows what He's doing.

Commence Wailing

2009-03-17T22:59:00.000-07:00

I've been listening to a lot of emo lately. Not the acoustic guitar and whiny vocals variety, no. More the big rock guitars, good beats, and whiny vocals variety. I'm kinda surprised at myself.

See, when I first heard Fall Out Boy's "Sugar, We're Going Down," I realized that there was a new movement in music that I hated. I hated it before it was a genre. You could hear it coming in "Warning" by Incubus, for example. The wailing vocal parts, sometimes atypical rhythms, lack of rhyme, things like that. Eventually there were more and more songs with these long run-on sentences for titles, and all these clever lyrics. When you're trying to be clever, it's really hard not to be annoying.

The first crack in my annoyance came when I saw the video for Fall Out Boy's "This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race." Again, long song name and lyrics that were clever to the point of being pushy... but the beat! The song gets a good sort of Michael Jackson vibe going, then breaks into a fast pop-punk chorus, and it all works together.

Then, I played Prey. Very well done, very innovative video game. Beat the final boss, watched the denouement, and the credits begin to roll. Over the credits plays "Take Me Home" by After Midnight Project, and I realize with a shock that it's definitely an emo song, and I definitely don't hate it. The beat is steady and insistent, the guitar work skillful, the vocals emotive. Then the chorus hits, and everything soars.

The thing about emo is that there's a much greater variety within the genre than I originally thought. Songs like "Coffee's for Closers" by Fall Out Boy and "Welcome to the Black Parade" by My Chemical Romance are impressive for the sheer number of disparate elements coming together to make a good song. Sometimes the depressing / bitter lyrics are coming at you in a major key. Sometimes there are techno elements, sometimes horns.

I've found a lot of stuff I like through Pandora. If you're curious, you can find other songs I like on this station.

Pathos

2009-03-16T23:03:00.000-07:00

A titan, curled in on himself.

A giant, eyes clenched tight.

In the corner of his dripping eye, the stars.

Were he to stand, could he reach them?

Could he have them?

Knees drawn, face to earth, he whimpers.

"A thousand million choices,

all wrong."

And so the lights remain distant as dreams,

the earth no brighter.

(not a very good poem, I don't think, but an illustration nonetheless of somewhere i've been off and on for a while. feeling much better now, having talked to and prayed with my pastor. i recommend it.)

Downturn

2009-03-15T00:41:00.000-07:00

I think there may be a bit if a backhanded upside to our current economic situation.

The whole mortgage crisis and the credit crunch are awfully complex. People talk of good debt turned bad, of banks that aren't intetested in foreclosing on homes, of spending billions of taxpayer dollars to help failing businesses. Who knew who Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac were before all this started? And who among them knew they were government agencies?

A lot of the problems apparently came from very sophisticated financial commodities. Some problems were more simple: people weren't able to pay their debt. A story on National Public Radio noted that the current total indebtedness of the American people is now at the level of the Gross National Product. The only other recorded time that happened? Just before the Great Depression.

My hope is that this crisis will get our attention. We've gotten awfully comfortable with debt as a culture, with myself as an example. I, for one, intend to maintain relative financial simplicity. To start living more strictly within my means, even if that means - gasp - lowering my standard of living a little.

Some of you think that's a really obvious choice. I think it's an oddly foreign concept to my generation. Maybe this is our chance to get our priorities straight.

Keyed Up

2009-03-14T11:22:00.000-07:00

Ack! Missed a post. I'll double up today. Storytime.

Yesterday, I found myself getting very nervous, quite stressed out. There was something on my mind that would have made me anxious anyway, but in the process of trying to calm myself down, I realized something.

Thus far that day, I'd consumed a large cup of coffee and two sugary pastries. I'd been listening to punk rock - highly aggressive, noisy, intense music - for around four hours straight. And I was sitting in front of my computer the whole time, typing, with my shoulders bunched up from my elbows resting on the chair's arms, craning my neck at the papers on my desk, then staring at my glaring backlit monitor.

Whether or not my issue du jour was worth worrying about, my environment was of no help.

So I had lunch with a friend, outside in the sunshine. Very helpful. Funny enough, during the course of the conversation, I chuckled, gave her a reassuring little scratch on the back, and told her, "my dear, you gotta learn to relax."

Sloth: Not the Mammal

2009-03-12T21:23:00.001-07:00

My entry tonight is just my notes from tonight's Bible study. Ashley's
lesson could have been written specifically for me.

2 Thess 3:6-13
-do not grow weary of doing good.

Idleness. Aimlessness. (sloth.)
-is not Christlike.
-is appealing, and influential to others.
-1 thess 5:14 - admonish the idle
-doesn't mix with initiative.
-God isn't into gray areas.
-is unfruitful by nature.
-drains away integrity.
-is not defeated merely by intent, but by action.
-is hypocritical.
-Take up your cross and follow me.
-drains resources and contributes nothing.
-hinders God's work.
-neuters our calling.

Am I occupied with God's purpose?
What do I have to show for my work?
What's coming out of my mouth? (aha.)
-Defensive? Judgmental? Gossip?

"There's no unemployment for spirituality." -Shane

Gal. 6:9 - at the proper time, we will reap a harvest if we do not
give up.

Apply Directly to Your Brrrrraaaaaiiiiinnns

2009-03-11T23:28:00.000-07:00

The ironic thing is, Nazi Zombies is just the prize you get for beating Call of Duty: World at War, and it's arguably more engrossing than the main game. Below is an audio clip of Cody and Drake playing.

I'm just impressed with myself for getting the mp3 player to work on this site. This whole audio blog thing is an experiment. If it's not completely annoying, I may do more such posts in the future. Click the play button below to enjoy!

The Scatterer

2009-03-10T22:31:00.000-07:00

18 "Hear then the parable of the sower: 19 When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what has been sown in his heart. This is what was sown along the path. 20 As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy, 21 yet he has no root in himself, but endures for a while, and when tribulation or persecution arises on account of the word, immediately he falls away. 22 As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful. 23 As for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it. He indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty."

-Matthew 13:18-23 (ESV)

Above is Jesus' explanation of a the Parable of the Sower, a story he uses to describe how people respond to his teaching. In most preaching I've heard on this section of the Bible, the emphasis has been on the different types of soil as different types of people that hear the Christian message. A common observation is that the sower scatters the seed regardless of the quality of the soil, and we should do likewise, rather than attempting to pre-judge what someone's reaction will be.

That's a valuable point. When I read this parable tonight, though, I saw another possible interpretation. It's a new thought to me, but I can't imagine it's a new thought.

Let's shift the focus to the sower, the one scattering the seed. What is he doing throwing seed on the walking path, or among rocks, or in patches of thorns? That's sloppy farming. Ideally, he should get all the seed into fertile soil.

Now, Jesus says the seed on the path symbolizes someone hearing the Word, but not understanding it. Consider this: ever feel lost when someone tries to explain their religion? Ever get utterly confused by Christianese words that obviously mean something to the person saying them, but not to you?

I'm wondering if this parable could be not just a reminder to scatter seed, but a guide on how to do it well.

If Christians don't preach in terms that people can understand, it's like throwing good seed on the walking path: ineffective. If we lead people to become Christians, but don't aid them in deepening their faith afterwards, their faith will be in danger when life gets tough. If we don't encourage new converts to really follow Jesus' teaching in day-to-day life, they'll be just as distracted and distraught by unhealthy desires as they were before they were Christians, if not more so.

Could be.

Overcome

2009-03-09T23:10:00.000-07:00

There are a few stories in the Bible I can hardly finish telling without choking up.

Jesus took two of his disciples, two of his closest friends, up on a mountaintop with him. There, the Bible says that as they watch, Jesus illuminates, literally glowing, and two long-dead prophets appear to speak with him. Completely awestruck and terrified, words fail. The men are surrounded by a cloud, from which the voice of God the Father boom. Then, silence. They look around. Just Jesus. In my mind, this is where Jesus grins and starts walking nonchalantly down the hill, then looks over his shoulder at them and says, "Well? You coming?"

Here's the part of the story where I have trouble talking.

They get to the bottom of the hill, and they hear arguing. There's a man there, with his son. The religious leaders and Jesus' followers are shouting back and forth, but when they see Jesus, they come running. It turns out the man brought his son to Jesus' disciples to be healed of his seizures. The disciples tried, and failed. As Jesus watches, the boy falls to the ground, convulsing violently. In the midst of all the turmoil, with the crowd looking on, the father says, "If you can do anything, take pity on us and help us."

"If?" Jesus says. He tells him, "Everything is possible for him who believes."

Here is the father's response, as recorded in Mark 9:24:

Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"

That's me. I know that place.

If you've ever had your trust betrayed, you know. If you've ever been wearied by disappointment, you know. If you've been reduced to hope without expectation, you know what he meant. If you've been given every reason to doubt, you understand.

So, what does Jesus do with this man? With this broken, hopeless, desperate man?

He grants both his requests.

I pray we never stop at doubt.

Plot Twists

2009-03-07T22:29:00.000-08:00

These days, I consistently feel a little shock of panic when I see the date. Time is always moving forward a little too fast. I think I would be less fearful if I had better time management skills.

Today, all I really did was read Watchmen. Cody loaned me his copy late last night, and I got a few pages in before a late bedtime. Got up nice and late, and my mid-afternoon, I was well over halfway through. Running out of a few household essentials - food among them - necessitated a trip to the store, which required me to change out of my PJs.

With my nightly Bible reading a blog post still to do, I was closing in on the ending when the phone rang. Turns out the person who was going to teach Sunday School tomorrow is sick, and in the end, it fell to me to prepare something for tomorrow morning. With a small number of teachers available and the number of things we have going on - Sunday School, children's ministry, and a mission committee meeting - situations like this will arise very occasionally.

Michael tells us to keep something ready to teach, just in case. "Have something in your pocket" is how he puts it. When the call came, I thought I had nothing. After a browse through my journals and notes, however, a plan has formed. Those few minutes of panic, however, called me to account.

So, I'm going to work on translating whatever mental discipline allows me to read an inch-thick graphic novel in a day into my study time, my devotions, and my prayers. I already have that kind of focus in one area, and I want it in another. I'll be working on that.

Dude, Who Shot Me?

2009-03-07T02:20:00.001-08:00

Once again, the boys gathered at Pastor Holmes' place to play Call of Duty on the XBox. This is the second time just recently that I've had a laugh-out-loud good time with a group of guy friends pretending to shoot each other. The girls tend to leave the room.

The Call of Duty series, and other games like it, offers two things guys love: violence and competition. There's some odd appeal to launching a grenade far across a field to land at your friend's feet, who you didn't even see, but who would have done the same to you if he had the chance. I also appreciate that while the games have big, loud guns, the gore is quite minimal. The latest installment ramps it up quite a bit, but it's still fantasy violence, where only your pride gets hurt when you get shotgunned.

Really, it's not to be overthought. It's just dang fun.

Of Dogs

2009-03-05T22:23:00.000-08:00

Tonight was another amazing night at Bible study. Ashley's lesson was out of Mark 7:24-30, one of the most challenging passages in the Bible. In it, Jesus miraculously heals a pagan woman's daughter because she comes to him with extreme humility. It's a very deep story, with a lot of cultural and historical subtleties - which, in the context of the original story, weren't subtle at all. We focused mainly on two ideas: that Jesus offends the proud, but shows mercy on the humble.

I tend to be less humble with my desires and more passive-aggressive. If I want something I don't have, I'll more often settle into feelings of entitlement and self-pity rather than going to the God who loves me and asking, knowing that He's already given me more good things than I deserve. I really should know better by now. Especially with the way God has been answering prayer at Crossroads.

"You want something but don't get it," James writes. "You kill and covet, but you cannot have what you want. You quarrel and fight. You do not have, because you do not ask God. When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures." (James 4:2-3)

It's easy for me to remember that I'm the scum of the earth, and I deserve death over blessing. I just can't seem to keep that fact and this one in my head at the same time: God is gracious, generous and, again, actually loves me. One or the other, I can comprehend with no problem. But the two ideas don't go together in my head, because of my backwards, performance-based concept of love.

Humility is both recognizing oneself as broken, and accepting the love offered by a perfect God.

A New Twist on an Old Favorite

2009-03-04T22:35:00.000-08:00

Some of you hypothetical readers may have guessed my intent by now. I plan to write a post on this blog every day for Lent, Sundays excluded. But you're supposed to give something up, right? Really, I'm giving up my excuses not to write.

Why this for the season leading up to Easter? Why not fast, as others do?

As I see it, the very idea of fasting for Lent is to honor Jesus' sacrifice by making a token sacrifice of our own. And the point of any religious observance should be to intentionally draw closer to God. Not only is writing daily a sacrifice of time and effort, but I believe it will help my relationship with God. It will take discipline, which I know he wants me to develop. Then there's the fact that I think I was built for it.

There's this idea deeply rooted in Christianity that each of us was created with a specific purpose in mind. I can't shake the feeling that writing is part of my purpose. I got a little chill as I wrote that last sentence. I really want to find out how I can serve God with what writing ability I have, whether it be explaining theology or merely piecing words together for the sake of beauty. Or telling fanciful stories that ring true. Definitely got a chill as I wrote that.

Some fiction. Some essays. Maybe a couple poems, and a couple life updates. The posts will be varied, and only a few will be about Easter. But Lent is the reason for the flood of content. Instead of giving something up this year, I'm taking something on.

I Don't Remember Asking

2009-03-03T21:53:00.000-08:00

I've observed that we Americans are connoisseurs of everything. I've actually had conversations with people about which restaurant's soda fountain has the best mix of syrup and water. On a couple occasions. With different people.

It's easy to see how a highly affluent consumer culture can lead to that kind of gourmet thinking. Amusing though it may be, there's another side that I feel is getting a little out of control. I see it in myself, and pretty much everyone else I know. We're all seasoned consumers. It takes some doing to impress some of us.

And we're all critics.

I just caught up on Heroes, which I thoroughly enjoy. There were a few moments during the latest episode, though, where I shook my head in scorn. "They're using that scene transition? Seriously? Oh, that line was horrible." And so on. I've discussed Sylar's character arc with a few people, and voiced my extreme displeasure with some of the choices the writers have made.

I feel as though I'm somehow qualified to criticize because I've consumed an awful lot of stories, including more than a few superhero stories. I've even written... uh... well, something. Anyway, I feel qualified.

However I may feel, though, I'm not the one who built the characters and their world, cranked out a script, pitched the idea well enough to actually sell it, signed a contract with Universal, and got my material broadcast into millions of homes.

I guess I just wanted to take a second to recognize that, while I might have my opinions and preferences, my writing isn't driving the careers of an entire cast of actors. I will admit, I'm hoping that might change someday.

Reasonable Certainty

2009-03-02T19:04:00.000-08:00

Torrents and tides we can predict, and give fair warning to

the misfortunate body-affixed souls in their paths

- unless a levy break, or the ocean floor heave

dislodging peace with water -

to put height or solid shelter between their

fragility and the crush.

And yet the treacherous fluid motion

the steaming reaction of clashing humours

the drunken roll and pitch

the self-afflicted heaving

the mind-blank, roaring, rigor mortis clutch

of the desire of woman and man

breaks all models

leaving behind shards, and blood.

The New Abolitionists

2009-02-28T22:57:00.000-08:00

Sacramento is situated midway between Mexico and Canada on I-5, which is one reason why so many slaves move through the city.

I didn't know. I thought slavery had been eradicated from the world in the 19th century. I thought the days were long past when parents sold their daughters into brothels, and people were kidnapped and forced to work without pay. And until tonight, I thought that by far, most of the people in the sex industry were there voluntarily.

Tonight, my church held a human trafficking information night. The statistics are horrific. One estimate from the International Labor Organization places the number of human beings enslaved at this moment at 12.3 million. We saw pictures of a sweatshop that was raided in California fifteen years ago. Looked like a normal apartment complex. You couldn't see the barbed wire fence from the street, or for that matter, the people who slept fifteen to a room.

Spreading awareness is only the beginning. This isn't another issue that will inflame a few people for a moment and then pass from memory. From everything I've seen, the church is gearing up for a fight. There are already organizations doing excellent work, and we intend to join them. Here are a few.

Agape International Missions

Courage to be You

World Hope International

Further information can be found in the State Department's Traffcking in Persons Report 2008, and on the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime website.

Whippersnapper

2009-02-28T00:05:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, I feel old for 25.

In stark contrast to a few years ago, there's only one night a week I can reasonably stay up past midnight - Friday, as you might have guessed - and given the option, I often don't. I've never been a morning person, and I doubt I ever will be, but I have made it work for some time, now.

I was recently part of a discussion about the difference between health and fitness. To be healthy, the way we typically think of it, is really just to be not-sick. To be fit is something else altogether, and I can definitely feel the difference. I'm not dramatically out of shape, but I'm no athlete, either. Years behind various desks with very minimal exercise in my off hours have seen to that. One flight of stairs, and my pulse races. Ten minutes at Sky High, and I need a breather.

I can feel my friendships changing, maybe maturing. At least, shifting into a more adult mode; that is to say, more occasional. I just don't see my friends as much as I did in my early college years. We're all dividing our time between work, school, and at least one other obligation aside from hangout time. It's normal, but to me, it still seems like a relatively new normal.

I'm getting a sense that I'm entering a time of my life when expectations on me are rising, because of both my age, and my circumstances. I'm now on staff at my church. I'm an "analyst" at my day job. I have more opportunities to make decisions that carry weight. For whatever reason, that idea also seems relatively novel.

I'm in that odd stage when others, older co-workers especially, alternately treat me like a peer and a youngster. I still remind women in their forties of their sons, it turns out. People my parents' age are just now starting to see what my generation is capable of, and some are pretty impressed. The usual conversation starts out with how easily we pick up technology, then rounds out with how many of us return home in debt.

I've been described as having an "old soul," but I still have some youthful habits and attitudes. Through it all, my identity is slowly starting to settle. It can be difficult to accurately track the process from the inside. If you've got some insight as to how I've changed in recent years, feel free to chime in.

MEMORANDUM

2009-02-26T22:50:00.000-08:00

To: Dr. Angelo "Skip" Roth

Time: 3:56 am

Urgent? X

Dr. Skip:

I'm writing you this note in the hope that we can move past our professional differences. I'd like to think we can both be adults about this, and see the mutual benefits inherent in the situation at hand.

For example, you have frequently expressed concern for the stability of the project's budget. I have, as you will no doubt notice, implemented what I consider to be an elegant solution which will significantly reduce costs related to the containment area, and security staffing.

I would truly appreciate your feedback, so I've taken the liberty of scheduling a meeting at your house. This time, I will be setting the agenda.

Sincerely,

"Lefty" (Subject 332-A)

Lemme tell ya somethin', brother.

2009-02-25T21:53:00.000-08:00

Professional wrestling is stupid. I really can't argue with that. But I still find it irresistable.

I am, of course, talking about the fake kind of wrestling: the Hulk Hogan kind, the Stone Cold Steve Austin kind. Fake, however, is an unfair word for what pro wrestlers do. It's not a fight, it's a performance. If you go into the experience expecing that, and if you're willing to play along, it's a whole lot of fun.

As I say that, some of you are wondering what fun there is in watching guys in tights yell into microphones and pretend to wrestle. I can't speak for everyone, but here's what draws me: crazy athleticism.

There are only so many places you can go to see a 300-pound man take off running, leap over the top rope of the wrestling ring - no hands - turn a somersault, and land on the three guys who are standing in their pre-arranged place to break his fall to the cold tile floor.

Many of you have heard me talk about my buddy Drake, who trains with Supreme Pro Wrestling and wrestles as Drake Frost. His finisher - his signature move that usually comes right before the end of the match - is like a ballet move, except you smash your partner to the mat instead of landing gracefully. There's a little spin in there and everything.

One more example. SPW put on a No Rope Lumberjack Match between El Chupacabra and Rik Luxury a year or two ago, in which the ropes were removed from the ring. The "lumberjacks" were two crowds of men, each group friends of one wrestler and hostile to the other, and itching to stomp someone. Luxury was outside of the ring, with his lumberjacks between him and his opponent. El Chupacabra then ran out of the ring onto the shoulders of said lumberjacks, pushing off and tackling Luxury from above.

I still can't figure out why they do it. There guys take some bumps. Drake literally had a handprint on his chest after an SPW show after getting a wicked smack from the Big Ugly. Bones sometimes break. Depending on the match, there may be some blood. It seems like a lot of sacrifice for a little applause, to say nothing of the time spent on training, or driving hours to put on shows in other towns and in other states.

That's the main reason I admire Drake. He's committed. He has an insane dream to actually make it in this industry, and he's making sacrifices to get there. I've never known anyone else willing to work two jobs, then go get dropped on his head by guys bigger than he is in order to get better at his craft. I don't know that I've been that dedicated to anything in my entire life.

So for Drake, and all the guys and girls at SPW, I pray safety and sanity. I pray that God would make sense of their dreams and their drive, and keep them in one piece in the meantime.

Changeover

2009-01-29T13:39:00.001-08:00

Today is a tangle of different responsiilities. It's my last day in Human Resources, and it's payday, and there are checks to hand out. One of many responsibilities that will no longer be mine in a scant few hours. Who will handle them is, in many cases, a large hovering question mark.

Tomorrow, I start in the Training Section, where I will occasionally make decisions and use my creativity. On the job. Weird. I'll also get to practice teaching and communicating with technology. It's a pretty amazing opportunity. I can almost hear God chuckling to Himself.

I'm also going to be taking on more responsibilities at church, which are no less exciting. Some teaching, some tech stuff, some other duties as required. Sorry. HR reference. I'm glad for all these chances to serve.

Which are going to lead to me being pretty busy. In addition to all the aforementioned stuff, I've got another ministry class coming up at the end of February. As I recently observed on Twitter, I'm getting to the point that I'm going to have to schedule all my time, both work and play.

Generally, I prefer when I don't have to abide by a strict schedule. I prefer to have free time as often as possible, and in the past, I've gotten depressed when I've had a lot to do at one time, even if it's all good stuff. More and more, though, that's changing. I'm learning how limited time is, and where my priorities are. I'm trying to convince my friends to schedule a weekly time to get together and play games, because if we don't, it probably won't happen.

I'm learning that in the end, leisure isn't a right. Free time is a misnomer. It always costs something. That's not a bad thing. It just means we need to examine our priorities, and evaluate those things we commit ourselves to.

Then, really commit.

Delivering the Weight

2009-01-22T08:05:00.000-08:00

Shuffleboard? Actually pretty fun.

Gaining Light

2009-01-09T08:45:00.000-08:00

A beautiful start to the day. Doesn't hurt that it's Friday.

I've known for some time that I'm called to be selfless, not to worry, and to live life to the full, rather than with a spirit of fear. I tend toward perfectionism, though. Funny how much anxiety that generates, how much fear of your own rejection, and simultaneous judgment of others.

Yeah, I'm ready to move on. And I've been making solid progress. I'll be spending a lot of time in Romans 8, I think.

Someone

2009-01-02T17:53:00.000-08:00

I've got this girl running through my head. I don't know if she exists. I've met some that I thought were her, some that still might be, but then again, might not. Whether or not she's real, I'm impatient to meet her. If that sounds problematic, it is.

I honestly have trouble discerning what in me is normal, healthy attraction to attractive people, and what comes from the covetous, lusting side that breeds needless desperation. I still don't know where the balance is between patience and initiative in seeking this theoretical girl. At times I've held back rather than risk rejection, and at times - perhaps more often - I've gotten too attached too early, and been far too forward. Maybe this is all terribly mundane, but it still causes me a fair share of angst.

I'm going to try something different. I'm going to describe her, in part. This is, of course, an idealized image. A fantasy, probably. I'm not sure what I hope to gain by posting this, but maybe it has something to do with exposing my hopes, rather than holding them in. I hope it doesn't do more harm than good.

In any case, here she is.

She loves me, but she loves Jesus more. This is essential.

She gets me, but still loves me. She isn't afraid to learn what's within me. She's nice, but not a pushover. She doesn't compromise the truth, but she's gentle. I want someone who doesn't just tolerate me out of obligation, doesn't just humor me out of politeness, but actually likes being around me. She's actually a little embarrassed by how much she likes me, and doesn't need an excuse to spend time with me.

She's affectionate, and expresses it physically, sometimes aggressively. But not overly so. She loves nothing more than just resting in my arms and talking with me for hours. Somehow, she can be sarcastic without being hurtful. Sometimes, she says things that only I - intuitively - understand. She's crazy, but lucid.

I want a girl who's just a little smarter than me, perhaps wiser, but either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

She can be energetic without being hyper, and calm without being boring. More than any other physical attribute, she has a killer smile. She not only appreciates music, but can get into it. As long as I'm fantasizing, she can also sing. She's insightful, and encouraging.

She's more than I could rightly ask for.

There. My dream girl. As yet, hypothetical. Soon, I hope to be truly okay with that.

The Game Begins

2008-12-27T14:50:00.000-08:00

'Bout time.

Heartbreaker: Speculation

2008-12-15T12:37:00.000-08:00

Wait, how is Singer supposed to contact this shadowy figure if she can't e-mail him back? Maybe she's just that crafty....

-

I must have told someone, she thought to herself. At one of the office parties. For a cover story. Something.

Singer zipped up her thick leather flight jacket and stepped onto the patio. She looked down at the park, where the risers were already up and ready. She sighed and pulled on her helmet.

It had taken her a couple extra weeks to find an apartment on the right floor, but it was worth it. From her balcony, she could get into traffic easily. She tapped in the password for the gate and stepped through, off the edge. Mind buzzing though it was with the mystery at hand, she still have more than enough focus to fly. Singer slipped easily from a walk to a drift, floating out from her apartment until she heard the gate click.

Maybe it was Farmer.

She lowered her head and streaked forward, cutting through the faintly flickering yellow field into the stream of fliers. Other telekinetics made up the bulk of the traffic flow, but there was the occasional winged dragon-breed flapping along, clearing his or herself a wide berth with their high profile. One person, she saw, was standing on the safety net, the force screen coalescing around their feet and glowing bright. They straightened their helmet, strapped it tight, and took off again, regaining the fifteen foot gap back into traffic.

It had to be Farmer, now that she thought of it. He'd cornered her at the last holiday party, the previous winter. She knew he'd had a crush on her for as long as they'd worked together, and she thought he knew she wasn't interested. Something, apparently, was unclear. Farmer was an all right guy, but too eager. He'd poured out to her more awkward detail about his life than was fair, and she must have told him the story out of some misguided sense of justice.

Singer floated to a stop, the field ahead lit red. As the cross-traffic unspooled from its cluster and began to flow again, she remembered that Farmer had just gotten back to the office yesterday, from his assignment in Red Bridge. She'd actually heard him griping about the long trip back north in the hall.

The red field dissipated, and Singer rounded the corner, coming into view of her office. The Psionic Solutions, Inc. tower was an elegant steel-fiber and polyglass affair, mostly black, with the impression of a highly polished onyx shard. Human forms darted in and out at skylane level as couriers delivered packages and consultants made their way to and from their assignments.

In essence, the Corporation was a psychic guild, providing consulting services to individuals and organizations, or so Public Relations said. At some point, everyone had a use for a telepath or a telekinetic. Collective bargaining had just quieted down for the season, and they now had to rely on other contracts for their income. This was usually Singer's favorite time of year. Last year she had worked one private investigation – the executive was cheating and embezzling, it turned out – and two big projects, both of which she had loved.

She alighted on the entrance nearest her office, unstrapping her helmet and turning her focus to the small box embedded in the wall. With a thought, the door opened. Singer shook her head, thinking of what price that little box would fetch on the open market. Just a little vial of psychoreactive fluid in a vial, hooked up to a computer with some very proprietary security software. The first step towards a psionic computer interface. As yet, all they could get the system to do was recognize people and open doors.

As usual, the office inside was nearly silent. The occasional drift of music or talk show hovered around someone's console, but no conversation filled the air. Singer stepped through the sliding glass door, which slid shut with a hiss.

-Morning, Singer, came the telepathic voice of Derek Baker, one of the trainees she supervised. He was nowhere in sight. Must have been waiting for her.

-Hey, Derek. Lemme guess. Fletcher's waiting.

-Good guess.

Singer walked straight past the kitchen and its inviting coffee-and-spiced-tea smell, on toward her boss's office.

-Morning, Elaine. How's your morning going?

That was Terrence Farmer. Singer stopped in front of his cubicle. He had turned around, hoping to get a glance at her, and now he was smiling as she actually stopped. His skin was a few shades darker than hers, more the average human brown than her pale pink. His eyes were a light brown, almost tan, and betrayed his eagerness to please people. Not un-handsome, and not a bad guy. Just tended toward desperate more often than not.

She narrowed her focus, quieting her telepathy to avoid eavesdroppers.

-Terry, hey. Got a question for you. She was annoyed, and trying not to let it show. Maybe he hadn't just let it slip. Maybe.

[By the way, Farmer is based loosely on me. More to come.]

Who-mon?

2008-12-13T15:25:00.000-08:00

That is one confused-looking tutoring logo.

Heartbreaker: Enticement

2008-12-10T10:14:00.000-08:00

Technically, due to the order in which I've posted the exerpts, today's story chunk is a flashback. I think this one is a little rougher than the others, but hey, it's a first draft. If you were wondering about the message Telfeyan sent so elaborately, read on.

-

Singer entered the 14-digit password from memory on the second attempt. Case-sensitive. She then stared at the kitchen table, frowning as the document failed to appear. She glanced back at the kitchen to see the text window on the kitchen wall, where Suq's call had come in. Singer sighed. "Over here." The window immediately blinked to the kitchen table. That's what she got for using a little-known, ill-supported notebook program, even if it was better than the mainstream software.

Singer glanced over what she had so far. Not much left to be said, really. The meeting had gone worse than she had expected - at least, worse for the Schwartzsten Group. Great for the Corporation's client, who was trying to find a way out of the negotiations. Which reminded her.

“Attach a note for Fletcher. Audio only. Set password as 'hedgehog milkshake.'” She snickered at the inside joke. “Record.” The waveform graph popped into being, fluctuating with her voice. “Hey, Fletch. Possible mode of approach for the meeting. Don't directly advise Gorok to back out, just keep suggesting that Schwartzsten is less than honest. Their rep has a crazy temper just below the surface. Keep pecking at him, and he'll blow, guaranteed, and Gorok will have all the excuse he needs to pull out. You can thank me later. Get pictures.” She had looked up the dwarf's name after the meeting, and was hardly surprised to find out that Roter meant “red.” Red he had been.

Singer was about to begin her work on the report itself when the new message chime sounded, and the floating envelope icon popped to the left. She'd forgotten to silence it before getting to work, which usually ended up costing her an extra half our. That icon was awfully hard to resist. She reached over and tapped it, rolling her eyes at her own predictability.

A text-only window scrolled open, revealing two short paragraphs. The sender was identified only as Secondshadow. No one she knew.

I hope this note finds you well. It was certainly an effort to find you in the first place, and, I pray, a worthwhile effort. An opportunity of untold magnitude awaits you. If such a grandiose but dreadfully general statement does not entice you, perhaps this statement will: my kingdom for a knight who hears me.

Her eyes stuck in place. A singular rush of cold recognition froze her. Those were her grandmother's words to her when she was nine years old. They were at the end of a fable she never forgot. They were how she knew she would marry Suqarin. She hadn't told that story to anyone except him.

If you are at all curious, contact me.

“Reply,” she ordered. A blank message appeared, with Secondshadow as the recipient. “Who are you? Send. Yes.” She barked the commands, anticipating the inevitable confirmation prompt. What she didn't anticipate was the error message.

[Error: Secondshadow is not a valid recipient.]

Singer glared at the box and stood up. The account obviously existed ten seconds ago. “Search network for Secondshadow, one word. Include Corporation.” No one knew that story. She hated mysteries.

[No results found. Did you mean second shadow?]

“Display properties for message.” A separate box appeared with statistics on the message itself. At the bottom was a series of network addresses the tiny digital parcel had been routed through. Singer slid her finger diagonally across the bottom of the box, drawing a selection rectangle around the information. She simultaneously tapped the right and bottom edges and dragged away a copy of the selection. “Call Dana Baker.”

Dana in IT answered a moment later, her small, dark face appearing on the kitchen table. “Hey, Singer. Mail problems?”

“Kinda,” Singer grumbled. “How'd you guess?”

“I don't wanna talk about it. Just found out this morning someone actually hacked through to our mail list last week.”

Oh, really. That was no small task. The Corporation had written their own proprietary operating system based almost entirely on the principle of data security. Their entire network was under layer upon layer of encryption, and was all but shut off to outside access.

“Funny you should mention. I just got an odd message and was hoping you could trace it back.”

“Yes. Forward it on.” Dana's game face was firmly in place. She was after the guy.

No sense in muddying the waters. “How about just the relay information?” She dragged and dropped the image onto the video feed, and watched as Dana reached offscreen to tap at the control surface.

“Mmm-hmm. That's all I need.” Her eyes had drifted away from the camera, and were flicking between several open windows. “Thought so. This address looks like it came from the Midlands.”

“Seriously? I thought their net access was junk out there.”

“Oh, it's enough. I'll let you know what I find out. So, what did the note say?”

“Nothing anyone in the Midlands needs to be saying to me.”

“Ksh. All right. I'll get back to you.” Dana flicked shut the window.

Singer glowered at the note. Contact me. The game was on.

Singer also hated games. Mostly because she couldn't resist them.

She thought of something else, and flicked the video window back open. “Hey, Dana?”

Dana looked up. “Aye?”

“I tried replying, but it said the account doesn't exist. And the search didn't turn up anything.”

“It said 'not valid,' right?”

Singer glanced over at the still-open dialog box. “Yeah.”

“Put that together with the Midlands network address, and you've got a flicker. Someone made a new account, sent you the message, and cut the network connection. The message would have gone through if they were still on the net.”

Singer knew how hard it was to get off the net here in the north. It had to be easier in the Midlands, where the tech was decades behind.

“Thanks, Dana.” Singer flicked the window closed and leaned on the table, scowling at the wall. She dragged her finger back and forth, waving the mystery message. Trying to shake the secrets loose.

[more to come.]

Heartbreaker Excerpt: Telfeyan's Entrance

2008-12-08T10:12:00.000-08:00

Who is Telfeyan Crowflock? Today's snippet has blatant exposition!

If you're reading this, drop me a quick "ooh!" or "meh" in the comments section. Lemme know you're out there!

-

“My Queen, if I may be so bold-”

“I fear, Lord Eoderyn, that you would be bold with or without my leave.” Queen Leikalani fixed her cold, dark eyes on the elven noble, her gaze threatening to freeze him in place. His hand had paused in mid gesture, and his face betrayed only a hint of fear. Eoderyn's poise broke; his words ran out. The Queen allowed him a moment to sweat. “Come to your request.”

Despite his opulent attire, and immaculate courtly manner, Eoderyn managed to look genuinely timid. It somewhat diminished the effect of his wardrobe, complete with ages-old platinum earcuffs, a sharp-edged gray vest and robe of the latest fashion, and the cravat, bursting with reds and yellows. He was almost too old to pull off the look properly, but his face remained smooth enough to trim a few years from his appearance. His head bowed, and his tightly-braided blond ponytail rolled to one side. Eoderyn cleared his throat, and spoke, although in a smaller voice than before. “In order to complete the task at hand in the time you request, more resources will be required. In particular-”

The Queen threw up her hand, cutting him off again. “Tell me nothing of the particulars.” She folded her hands in her lap. “You have at your disposal all that you need. You have only to use it. You may ask my headservant for access to any particulars. Return tomorrow with your demands.”

Eoderyn bowed low, with great flourish. “It is with honor that I serve, my Queen. Your generosity is magnificent.” He lifted his head. “Let it be known that am ready and willing to offer you any...” He stopped at the sound of flapping wings and the rustling of the great, thick drapes covering the fifteen-foot window to his left. Eoderyn suppressed a snarl.

The Queen, on the other hand, allowed herself a smirk and looked to the window. “Is that you, Crowflock?”

Telfeyan shoved aside the thick red curtain and stepped into view. Telfeyan Crowflock, the Queen's spy and trusted agent. Who was once a man, and now was not. His rough canvas hands rustled against the curtain fabric. A tuft of straw poked out from his left wrist, which he surreptitiously, and automatically, tucked back in. Telfeyan smiled, the jagged white patch of material shifting in size and shape, bright against the black-dyed canvas of his face. He removed his black felt hat and bowed.

“My Queen.”

He straightened, and bowed shallowly to Lord Eoderyn. Not shallow enough to slight, but only just. “M'lord.” Telfeyan replaced the hat on his head and leaned against the ancient polished stone wall.

Eoderyn, as was his custom, gave Telfeyan a hard look. “Whenever you present yourself, Crowflock, I wonder to myself what I have said in the presence of crows.”

“You flatter me, M'lord. Certainly I cannot be everywhere at once.” He winked one triangular white eye at the noble.

One of Eoderyn's sharply pointed ears twitched. He inclined his head once again to the Queen. “By your leave, Your Majesty, I will continue the work at hand.”

“Go with my blessing, Lord Eoderyn,” the Queen said, without the usual ice in her voice.

The noble smiled at the Queen, turned and exited the tower room. Queen Leikalani watched Eoderyn go, then turned to her spy. “You do make him uncomfortable.”

Telfeyan stood casually and meandered into the center of the room. “Perhaps I remind him of someone he doesn't like. And isn't it curious, Your Majesty,” he continued abruptly, “that he would insist on meeting you in the least convenient of your meeting rooms, at the hour normally reserved for your afternoon rites in the gardens?”

The Queen stood from the sculpted iron throne on which she sat, and walked past Telfeyan to the door. Her form-fitting red dress, a darker maroon than the curtains, rustled slightly. Though his face had no nose to speak of, Telfeyan caught her scent – it brought to mind an image of blue water running over snow. “It bothers you when I refuse to include you in my plans.” She brushed a thin, pale finger over the softly glowing runes on the door, deactivating the magical silence placed on the room.

“I have no desire to be personally involved in all your plans, my Queen,” Telfeyan replied. “If I had any complaint, it would be simply that I do not know about all your plans. Perhaps you can sympathize with a spy's plight.”

“Do you have anything to report, spy?” The Queen was using her business voice, but was shamelessly smiling to herself.

You do enjoy toying with me, don't you? “Nothing, my Queen, to report. Except that your kingdom is unusually quiet and peaceful.”

“Then I might have to cause a stir, mightn't I?”

[oh, that sneaky Queen. more to come.]

Another excerpt

2008-12-05T10:36:00.000-08:00

Here's another piece of Heartbreaker, from a little further into the story. Anyone recognize our second main character?

-

The text scrolled into place on the device's tiny screen, and Telfeyan smiled crookedly. “Paragraph. If you are... at all curious, contact me.” He stared at the glowing letters for a long moment. That was adequate. He set the handheld device next to him on the great rock on which he sat, and took up his stylus. With a brush of his rough finger, the sharped tip of the ancient wood lit with a green haze, bright white at its source. Leaning over in his cross-legged position, he set the point to the rock, drawing the final rune with a slow, steady, practiced hand. The stone furrowed, tiny pebbles rolling away from the point as Telfeyan drew it effortlessly through, leaving a shallow but definite score mark with every stroke.

He completed the formation and carefully reviewed each component before laying aside his stylus and pressing his hand to the cluster of runes. He had taken the extra time to add two redundant esphera runes for power and route them through three innite each. All that for the sake of quickness. Once again, it was time to test his runecraft.

The magic was already seeping into the formation through his palm. A good sign. Out of habit, he went through the motion of taking a deep breath and slowly opened the gate, allowing the magic to leak steadily through himself and prime the diagram. The green aura spread, filling out the subtle contours in the rock. Telfeyan watched its progress with unblinking eyes. And the moment the central rune began to show white, he dropped the gate and flooded the formation.

A blast of hot air whipped over Telfeyan's face as the portal opened. He looked out over the city of Edge, over a thousand miles north. Hundreds of feet below the magical aperture, mid-morning traffic was comprised of rapidly aging northern vehicles and, much more impressive, custom transports made from northern scraps. In the distance, a lone road stretched away to the north through the amber dunes. A minor sandstorm was gathering to the northeast, a dark swath in an otherwise blue sky.

He took only a second to enjoy the view, then grabbed the PDA and examined the indicator in the upper left of the screen. The antenna icon was, as he had been told to expect, blinking. His thumb scraped the Send button, and the device chirped a pleasant-sounding chime of denial. Telfeyan chuckled. This northern technology was polite even when it wasn't working.

Then, the antenna solidified, and was immediately replaced by five green bars. Telfeyan tapped the Send button again, and the message disappeared. Sent.

He immediately slammed shut the gate, and with it, the portal. The warm wind and blue desert sky disappeared with a hissing snap. As Telfeyan watched, the antenna icon reappeared on the PDA's screen, blinking three times before displaying instead a small red circle.

“Sorry,” he said to the device. “We are somewhat out of range, aren't we?” Laid the handheld computer in the center of the portal runes, then grabbed and re-energized his stylus. With broad strokes, he connected the main focus points, channeling them into the center. He cut off each of the outlets, and added three more oversized esphera. His left hand clenched into a fist, and he gathered a pool of energy there, a stopped gate. With his stylus, he traced a single connector a few feet long, ending in a simple spiral. A magical fuse. Over this he placed his left hand, and released. The spiral ignited bright white, and the green haze began to spread along the groove in the rock.

Telfeyan stood and brushed himself off. Walking a few paces away to the edge of the rock, he only looked back at the device once. If he had any way of using a PDA in the far south, he would be even more tempted to purchase one. That would raise some eyebrows at the royal court. Telfeyan snickered to himself and stepped off the edge of the mountain.

Cold mountain air rushed past his unblinking eyes. In the distance, he could see a large farm. They might hear the noise, but the flash would be lost in the late morning gloom.

As if in answer to his thoughts, the detonation sounded from the cliff above, as the magic essence reached the clogged, overpowered tangle of runes and exploded, tearing away the entire surface of rock on which it was etched and blowing the northern device to shreds.

Satisfied, Telfeyan took another deep breath. His form unwound, changing texture and warping, splitting. As he had a hundred times before, he burst apart, a hundred wings catching the rushing wind in a dive, then flapping into formation.

In the far distance, a farmer looked up at a rumbling echo, and saw only a flock of crows flying south toward Castle Stonewynd.

[more to come.]

Gasp! Novel excerpt!

2008-12-03T13:09:00.000-08:00

In November, I participated in National Novel Writing Month, further damaging my claims to sanity. The idea behind NaNo is to start on November 1 with a blank page, and finish the month with 50,000 words of a novel. I made a weak start, gained some momentum mid-month, and, well...

I'm quite pleased with what I did accomplish, though. I don't know if I've ever written this much for a given story. Ever. I plan on finishing the story, too, once I've planned it out a little better. I haven't been writing new material for it for the past few days, but I will be.

In celebration, I'm posting excerpts from what I managed to crank out during NaNo. These represent the roughest of rough drafts, but that's a lot of what gets posted here anyway. Heh. As yet, the story has no title, and will henceforth be referred to by its codename, Heartbreaker. A few of you will recognize a character, a name, or a setting, here and there.

Please enjoy, and feel free to comment.

-

A gentle swelling of light, and a gradual crescendo of harp music, and Elaine Singer awoke. The soft white light of the wall panels spread over the room, soaking the coffee-and-milk tan covers, the small lampstand, the many-colored ensembles just visible through the slightly ajar closet door. It took her a solid ten seconds to realize she was awake, ten seconds of staring at the red behind her eyelids. Subtle, embedded speakers in the wall above her futon grew slowly louder, insistently spreading the mystic sound of plucked strings. A vague memory of dream drifted away from her on a mental breeze, replaced quickly by another image.

In her mind, she was choking a harpist. Singer half-growled, half-groaned, rolling onto her stomach and burying her quickly-waking eyes in the pillow. A strand of her short red hair flipped into her ear. Itchy.

Have to minimize movement. We're not waking up. Not right now. Just gotta... oh, hell. She reached up at swatted at her own rebellious hair, knowing the battle was lost. Singer rolled over with a huff, tugging the covers off half the bed. Her voice was groggy when she spoke. “House. What time is it?”

The harp music quieted for the house computer's response, in a factual, but pleasant male voice. “It is 8:45 am.”

“Why would I get up at 8:45 am?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and trying to remember. Right. She had to finish her report on Schwartzsten for Fletcher before the meeting today. Because she had put it off until this morning so she and Suq wouldn't miss The Judicator last night. And it hadn't been that great an episode. She had no idea what they were doing with Starlight this season. He was supposed to become the next Judicator, they said that in the last season finale, but they kept-

She had almost fallen asleep again when she caught herself. “Mmn.” She had to get up. With one last sigh, she gathered her thoughts. Her mental focus slid into place, though a little slower than usual, since it was morning. Singer turned one hand palm-up under the covers. With a little ripple out from her hand, the covers lifted, nearly flat, until they were nearly grazing the ceiling. Singer sat up, popped her neck, and stood, slumping toward the bathroom. She let go her focus, and the blankets drifted down to the futon with a flop.

If she had a more consistent morning routine, maybe her mind wouldn't take so long to warm up. One of her mentors had insisted that was critical: being able to wake from a deep sleep and be at her telekinetic threshold a second later. Thus far, that ability hadn't exactly been mission-critical. Thus far, Elaine Singer had thoroughly enjoyed taking mid-afternoon and late-night assignments and letting the mornings drift away like fog.

The harp music was still going, and had followed her into the bathroom. The waterproof speakers were a little tinnier. If she had to be awake, she was going to actually wake up. “House. Playlist “punching the walls,” on random. Play.”

Per her settings, the volume ratcheted up three levels, and thundering drums and distorted electric cellos hammered the walls. That intro she knew. “Rending the Gates” by Praxis Maleficus. Good stuff.

One lingering shower later, Singer padded into the kitchen in her loose, broken-in jeans and a tank top that had once been black, and was now faded gray. Outside, only minimal traffic sounds, since the commuters had been at their desks for a little over an hour. The woosh-pop of flash welders echoed from the construction yard down the block into her apartment. The charged glass door leading to the minuscule patio was halfway opaque, tinting the bright city light down to a manageable shade. She peered out into the world and saw, ten stories down and eight blocks away, they were setting up for some sort of big event in Koral'ia Park.

Oh, right. Carpenter's rally. Knowing Carpenter's following, she'd probably be able to hear them across the distance. The man new how to draw a rabble. Which wasn't why she was voting against him, but it certainly didn't help his case with her.

A familiar, soft guitar line filled the kitchen, and the wallscreen by the cutting board lit up with an alert. Singer smiled. “House, answer it.”

A video window sprung open. On the other end of the call was a scaled blue face, with a line of tiny horns running up the nose ridge and over the hairless head. The eyes were a yellow-orange, with vertical pupils. It had the beginnings of a snout, which smiled with pointed carnivore teeth. It was wearing, she noticed, the t-shirt she had bought him last week.

“Morning, love,” said Suq. Suqarin Myssir. Her fiancé.

[more to come. thanks for reading.]

Shut up...

2008-11-15T23:30:00.000-08:00

...just shut up.

Portrait!

2008-11-11T17:16:00.001-08:00

http://mach23.deviantart.com/art/Razorclown-103068694

The Week Begins

2008-10-27T07:22:00.000-07:00

Part of my usual walk from my blocks-distant parking spot to Chocolate Fish before work. At the coffee shop, I read the Bible and journal. During the walk in, I pray. Took a bit of my own advice today and was more deliberate in my prayers; more careful to worship along with my requests and troubles.

This morning, at least, it made the difference between overexaggerating my few problems and starting the day with peace and, of all things, optimism.

Multimedia message

2008-10-22T13:10:00.000-07:00

I'm gonna attempt an actual blog post from my phone. Here goes.

Here I sit at Chocolate Fish Coffee once again. My plan to skip coffee a couple days a week is a go so far, but as you can see, I've lost the added benefit of saving money by picking up an iced white tea instead. On one hand, the tea is really tasty, and I'd rather not just mooch my favorite coffee shop's patio without buying something. On the other, I still need to grow my financial discipline. And every other kind, really.

It's doing me a lot of good to get outside. I'm expecting a scholarly paper on the horrible effects of fluorescent lights on the human soul to come out within the next few years. It's nice to emerge from the right-angled world of HR - gray with a few scant decorations. Whether I'm talking about the office or the profession, I'll leave to you.

Lately, I've been wishing I could write poetry. Whenever I try... hmm. It seems I'm out of room for text. Well, now I know. More soon, methinks.

Test Run

2008-10-18T15:07:00.000-07:00

A tattoo idea i had a while back. Airbrushed on at Apple Hill.

Egad.

2008-10-18T15:06:00.000-07:00

This is how brussels sprouts grow. That's lethal.

Graffiti Near 4th and S

2008-10-17T07:28:00.000-07:00

The rat was there earlier, but now he has a friend.

This Sign Exists

2008-10-03T17:15:00.000-07:00

I see what they were trying for. Sigh.

Dusk at Town and Country

2008-09-29T19:11:00.000-07:00

I'm contemplating going to Jakarta, Indonesia over Christmas on a mission trip. Just met with some people at the Starbucks here to discuss details, possibilities. My mind is churning. It's nice to turn the corner and see something so beautiful.
I'm contemplating a couple things right now that seem like sheer stupidity on the surface. Unless they're not.

UPDATE: The current plan is to save the money I would have spent on Jakarta to pay down my debts so that I'm ready to transition from day job to ministry when the opportunity arises. One down.

Urban Jungle

2008-09-22T07:11:00.000-07:00

Power cables at CalPERS building.

Killer Pool

2008-09-20T13:12:00.000-07:00

My aunt Debbie's backyard in Manteca. Wow.