Mount Hood Adventures

Ah the snow. It's amazing. My first day out was everything I needed. Amazingly bright, clear, and beautifull. Cheap. Five bucks for gas, ten bucks for food, no lift ticket. Just the old hike up the hill, build a jump, and spend the day in incredible flight. Okay, incredible for those of us who don't actually live on the moutain.

I Need A 'Book It' Program

I've made the mistake of buying a novel Saterday. Not that a book is a bad thing, it's just that now I want to read it. All the time. Which also isn't a bad thing. Except that I still have homework and pretend I have a life. Really my life is wandering the campus looking for people to talk too. Which is why I bought the book in the first place. Sure I read other stuff, lot's of stuff considering I'm a college student. I've pretty much allready knocked off most of the Old Testament. It's just that I wanted to find myself lost in a book. A book where I don't have to read and think at the same time. I just wanted to unfold the pages and find myself in someone else's world. Well now Nick Hornby has me lost in four people's world's. It's The Virgin Suicides meets the Breakfast Club. I tried looking back the last few months to count how much of my life has been spent between the pages, but I couldn't figure it out. I couldn't even count the number of books I've read since leaving school last year. Is all that reading really worth it if you can't remember all the books you've read? I guess so, its fun to get lost in another world sometimes.

We will become a happy ending

Swing, like a chariot
At the trupet call
When were all unsaved, swing
Like a wrecking ball
Like the heart of god
What a mystery
Filled with the wedding feast
For the snakes and bees
With the angel teeth, swing
Come and carry us
Come and marry us
To the blushing circus king

Dance like elephants as he comes to us through a fiery golden rain
With a violin and a song to sing as he brings for us our wings
Now he's one of us, plays the tambourine
Breaks the bread for us and sings.

Page France, I'm now in love.

Genius. Simple. Amazing.

Fire come and carry us
Make us shine or make us rust
Tell us that you care for us
Let your body stand with us
Or let our rags be turned to dust
Chariot you swing for us
We think that you can carry all of us
So we will become a happy ending

Measured Waters

There is something magical that happens when men pile into a car, fill it's tank, remove it's air freshener, and hit the road. With inhibitions on hold they cannot miss adventure. Led by the anticipation of what will be found on the other end of the speed zone they open up their senses and absorb the sights and smells that pass them by. The doors fly open at every bathroom break and the men scatter, only to find each other again at the most intriguing discovery. The bridge used to conceal urination becomes the gateway to the convergence of two creaks. It is nature's playground and it is theirs for the taking. It isn't long before the rocks take flight and one must dodge the descending water. Shoes become optional. One can challenge the force of the rushing water from within or hurl their body from rock to rock above. Soon they find themselves alone. It is a moment to reflect, a moment to snap pictures, a moment to stand back and inhale the surroundings. It is during this moment that one can ponder the reality of the world and one's place among creation. it is during this moment that one is humbled by a leaf and the willingness to open them self up to what it can teach. It is during this moment that one must let the leaf go and watch it swim off slowly alongside others only to lose it downstream.

Idealized Blundering

I have this ability, its more of a gift really, I can take any moment that has any shred of romance and make it about as awkward as possible. One would think that I could just sit back and enjoy the moment, but I can't. I don't know how. I'm always worried about ruining it by stumbling accross that perfect mistake. The one that steals the moment and leaves you as helpless as a blind man playing hide and seek. My first kiss was a flash of beauty. It was the memorable occurance that can only be stumbled upon and is never intentional. At least it should have been. It's the end of an outstanding date, were saying good bye and there's that pause. It's the pause where both of you know what is about to happen and all it takes is the initative. So there I am, about to lean into my first kiss, only I freeze up. I'm afraid to make that step. She's waiting patiently and I don't know what to do. The nostalgia boils into a blundering moment of unmanageable embarrassment. Finally she gives me this look, its the "What are you waiting for you big goof?" look. This of course raises the awkward intensity level to eleven. I have to do something to stop the bleeding. So with a hurried effort I announce, "That's it! I'm going for it." And I lean in. i thought it was a good line at the time. I thought it was the kind of line that Hollywood would admire. Now, everytime I look back on it, I blush. It is because of this haunting moment that I must sabotage every endearing moment I am a part of. (It happens) I don't know what to do with romance anymore. So instead I play the comedian and intentionally make things akward. Everyone knows its better to mess up on purpose then to do so accidently.

Proccupation With Self

"A poet has written, 'The desire to feel loved is the last illusion: let it go and you will be free." Just as the sunrise of faith requires the sunset of our former unbeleif, so the dawn of trust requires letting go of our craving spiritual consolations and tangible reassurances. Trust at the mercy of the response it recieves is a bogus trust. All is uncertainty and anxiety. In trembling insecurity the disciple pleads for proofs from the Lord that her affection is returned. If she does not receive them, shi is frustrated and starts to suspect that her relationship with Jesus is over or that it never existed.
If she does receive consolation, she is reassured, but only for a time. She presses for further proofs--each one less convincing than the one that went before. In the end the need to trust dies of pure frustration. What the disciple has not learned is that tangible reassurances, however valuable they may be, cannot create trust, sustain it, or guarantee any certainty of its presence. Jesus calls us to hand over our autonoous self in unshaken confidence. When the craving for reassurances is stifled, trust happens."

Brennan Manning
The Raggamuffin Gospel


"But I tell you the truth: It is for your good that I am going away..." JN16.7

Complilation #2

Since I enjoyed the last one and the whining that followed I thought I would follow up with more. Enjoy:

"The Canada trip was fun, but man, those guys are wierd. I only heard 'Eh' once. That was kinda disappointing but the sinks in the 'washrooms' said Cranada on them."

"I got glasses, and they suck. It's like living through a magnifying glass. Lame. For the price of uglyness I get eyesight, which I really wasn't missing all that much in the first place."

"My Dad just told me I should become a stripper. I don't know what to do with that. Well, besides puke."

"I've hit rock bottom. I'll never climb Mt. Raineer. The closest I'll get to class 5 rapids will be when I fall in the bathtub, and I'll probably have shampoo in my eyes anyway. I'll never surf, unless it's possible to catch your own wave when you jump in the pool. When my kid is trapped in New York and we're at the edge of an ice age it'll be, "Good luck son. I'll see if I can get a chopper out there when the storm clears." I won't be the hero who shows up just as the last book goes into the fire and the remaining suvivers are inches from death. I'll be watching everything unfold on the news with my extra 30 pounds to keep me company."

"For best taste I have to finish this can by January 17th, 2005. Something tells me I've got that covered. I wonder, though, can I really leave this on my desk for 7 months and still enjoy it's best taste when I finish it Christmas morning?"

I have figured out the root of my girl problems. Apparently I haven't been eating enough Monterey Jack Cheese Quesedias. Thus not sparking the 'Monterey Match Up.'"

"There's nothing I hate more then starting the day out with a cold shower. What's worse is when you find out it's cold somewhere between lather and rinse, repeat if desired."

"Turns out it wasn't a power outage, just my brother blowing a circuit. He wanted to find out what would happen if he put a combination of plastic and metal in a socket. I guess he found out it's not much different then when you put a key in the socket, a lesson he learned at four. I think after ten years those lessons pretty much expire."

"I've discovered that at night people think my Jimmy is a cop car. The confusion mostly comes from the fact that the car is green, and a ski rack can easily be mistaken for the lights. This discovery has brought me great joy. You guys don't know how much fun it is to sit on the side of the road with the parking lights on and watch people slam the breaks as they pass by. Tonight, upon the discovery that I was five minutes early for drum lessons, I pulled off to watch traffic. I got three cars to creep past at the dreary 25, realize I'm an impostor and speed off. Now that's entertainment."

"Did anyone catch tonight's sunset? It was breathtaking. Unfortunately the sunset didn't know CPR, and no one else was around to help. I almost died. It was scary."

"Ingaged in conversation about nothing, I casually picked up my coffee mug. It met my lips, and I gave it a gulp. Of course I completly forgot that the waiter had just walked away, and the coffee in my hand was no longer it's gulpable, bottom of the cup self. But rather it's less sweet burnable counterpart. So here I am. With white tastebuds."

"You know how you get spam from random names. Ever have those random names be someone you know? Anyway mine was from Jamie Pennington. And of course it was about Penile enlargement so I know it's not actually from her."

"Don't you think that after the third weekend people would start to notice that Bernie is dead. I mean, don't people start to smell after three weeks? Wouldn't Bernie get pale? And hello, the guy never talks! He either just stands there between his two friends who talk for him, or he's dancing. Stupid Voodoo. And by golly, I don't think I would want a dead body strapped to my side. That's not really my idea of a great time, wouldn't he get heavy? And the guy never changes his clothes, it's always that blue blouse."

Consider It A Compilation

In one of boredom's most inspiring moments (what I like to call 'no homework, no happenings') I decided to cruise an old blog to discover some of my most humbling moments. But hey, the internet is for embarrasment right? Enjoy the random quotes, I'll probably do this again considering that homework and writer's bloclk inhibit any posts of value/insight.

"My dog is laying in the pile of socks that's been growing on my floor. Yesterday he learned where dogs go when they die. I don't think he's too happy about that one. Where do dog's go again Sobe? That's right, compost pile. Why is that Sobe? Becuase they don't have a soul. Good dog. Here's a treat."

"I could use some cheese in a can. Minus the diarria."

"Yesterday was a good day. Long but good. I ran all the errands I've needed to run, except for the change the oil and the get new tires for the Jimmy part. As well as being the horse I rode for all my errands the Jimmy celebrated 100,000 miles. We took pictures. Threw a party. That young buck deserves it. I know one of these days when I run out of the saloon all shot up I can just hop on the hood and say, "Home Jimmy, home." and he'll carry me away to safety."

"We all get busy, grow up, get stuck in traffic. We run out of reasons to pout. We stop the pity parties. We grin at the girls and we don't care when they don't grin back. We grow our hair out into ridiculous arrangements and skip the daily hair fix. We pump gas, shiver, watch our breath and remember when ten dollars bought thirteen gallons. We wake up before the alarm and still manage to skip breakfast. We actually do our homework, and we study for tests. We smile, we laugh, and we can't wait for baseball."

"Has anyone else noticed that the bad drivers have marked thier cars with yellow ribbons?"

"With Strength And Right"

I've just discovered the history of my family name. We were pretty big stuff in way back Scotland. We pretty much rode around and kicked people's butt's, then we controlled the region between England and Scotland's border. We basicly kept England out for three and a half centuries because we were so cool. We have a tartan too.

Dorm Daze

This is nice. A blessing actually. This thermostat has been averaging a good 20 degrees more per day, making the room unbearable. Thanks to the shift of cool weather, I can actually breath in my room.

I managed to make it through the first day of classes without falling asleep. Two lectures and homework on what should have been just the average syllabus day. The guys and I made the mistake of talking into the wee hours of the morning. We paid for it today. Nap is pending.

Matt and I are also the reigning South Aldrich Foose Ball Champions. We went 8-2 yesterday, dropping one of a best of three for the championship and losing some random game by one point. It was my fault, I should have blocked that shot.

Someone Stop Them

If there is one thing I can't stand it is
church signs.

So is the NIV.

Home School Them.

Excellent choice boys.

This one might be my favorite.

Timmy Bank

Last night I had a dream where I needed to gain weight, so I decided to eat my spare change. It was at some point after my third nickel that I realized this wasn't a good idea. I'm not sure what tipped me off but it may have had something to do with the fact that every time I shook my belly the coins could be heard jingling from within. These three nickels had to be extracted and I believed the best way to do this was to use the finger down throat method. Do you know how hard it is to throw up 15 cents? Neither did I.

What happened?

There was a time when I could write. A time when passion flowed through my fingers and the words weaved themselves together with ease. My ideas were endless. The perfect sentence was as easy as dotting the lower case j. Today I find that constructing the perfect sentence is much like predicting the weather. I just go with a hunch and most of the time I'm wrong. My words are left without an umbrella in which to deflect the rain away from my craft. My sentences are as predictable as playdough. I type either snakes or pancakes and in the end it always ends up brown and crusty. I reread without much hope. I post with embarrasment. I lose my best material to sentence fragments and a poor vocabulary. I can turn an amazing piece into Grandma's knitted blanket: pretty, warm, too many holes.

James Bond Got It Right

This is me at the park. I'm invisible.

Study Break #3,489

If you haven't seen the pilot for Nobody's Watching you have too, it's hilarious. Unfortunately, it's allready been turned down by NBC and the WB decided that "Twins" was a better option. What smucks. No wonder the sitcome genre is dying. The execs wouldn't know comedy if it lit them on fire. There is hope however, thanks to YouTube they've picked up on the show's rising popularity.

Unleash the Anonymous Body

"True Religion confronts earth with heaven and brings eternity to bear apon time. The messanger of Christ, though he speaks from God, must also, as the Quakers used to say, 'speak to the condition' of his hearers; otherwise he will speak a language known only to himself. His message must be not only timeless but timely. He must speak to his own generation."

-A.W. Tozer

I wish the church could be a little more like Jesus, but seeing as that its' made up of all us humans I don't see it happening. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for the church. As baffling as it may be it's there for a reason. It is Christ's bride. I just wish it were perfect. I'd like to see no collateral damage. I tire of hearing all the horror stories of those hurt by the church, of staff fired for little reason, and of failing those who watch from the back row without ever learning anyone's name. If we are lucky the onlookers make it to the Easter alter call. Unfortunatly, they usually don't stick around long enough. Curiosity becomes casualty by week three. I'm glad my pastor is so good with names and that he makes it a priority to introduce himself to the new faces. It's too bad I don't. I hardly know the old faces.

If the church isn't perfect it should at least stop pretending it is. Why do we have to be so perfect in order to attend church? The Lamb of God was nailed to the cross because we aren't perfect! Grace is born in the Lord's mercy and in our imperfections; maybe we should stop pretending our imperfections don't exist. I bet we'll have an easier time letting go of those imperfections when we no longer ignore them. Perhaps then we'll stop alienating the outsiders and hanging the insiders out to dry. Forgivness is easier when you are aware of your faults.

Perhaps its time for the church to step out of the nineties. Or the eighties, or the sixties for that matter. We may or may not be ready for it. We should, however, be willing to take the risk. It's hard for the church to "Be still, and know that I am God," when we know that the service is up to par, or that it isn't falling into place. How does a modern church be still and still reach the modern man? I wonder what would happen if for one week we didn't use the stage. What would church look like when power point doesn't lead the way? Or a sermon isn't prepared beforehand. I wonder what would happen if I simply raised my hand and asked a question instead of waiting in line after the service. A dialoge during a sermon? Unbelieveable. I wonder what would happen if crying babies were encouraged. Loud and annoying? Yes. Life? Yes. I wonder what would happen if we let one of the guys with the hearing aids begin the service with prayer, and then handed him a bible and let him speak for as long or as little as he wanted. I wonder what would happen if we didn't stop him when he started talking about the war, his trip to the grocery store, or his prostate exam. I wonder what would happen if the church bought tickets to a baseball game, and no one sat in the back row. I wonder what would happen if we recognized God's majesty when we prayed. Perhaps we wouldn't leave for lunch, or we would tip if we did.

"We Christians are the church and whatever we do is what the church is doing. The matter, therefore, is for each of us personal one. Any forward step in the church must begin with the individual."

-Tozer again

FORZA Life

At the moment I am sandwiched between three cell phone conversations. Each one equally interesting. Kevin is patentiently enduring the Indian induced annoyance that is Dell tech report. Christina is juggling all those camp prepareing calls that the deadline deams important while Dan sits across her table doing the same for a Canadian camp. This slight insanity leaves me with the predicament: Which one do I easdrop on? Who do I distract? And more importantly, who needs a backrub?

Olson Ripoff

Torn.

Ripped.


My heart set in two seperate worlds.

Or maybe I just miss this:

The life of Sheep

There are two passages of scripture that have scared the crap out of me the last two months. Both being found in Mathew and both being the words of Jesus. The first is that of the sheep and the goats found in chapter 25. This being where Jesus seperates the people into sheep and goats. The sheep being heavenly creatures and the goats the hellish creatures subjected to the eternal punishment prepared for Satan and his angels. The scary part is that both the sheep and the goats seem suprised to be seperated into their chosen catagories. Jesus states that he was fed when hungry, was given a drink when thirsty, was provided clothes and shelter as a stranger, and was visited when sick or in prison by the sheep and was ignored by the goats. They both reply by asking when they did this. Jesus' answer, "I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me."

Everytime I come across this passage I am left pondering my place among the sheep and goats. Am I a sheep because I happily empty my pocket or hand away my to go box to each reaching hand in the street? Or am I a goat because I never actually feed those who are hungry? I walk away as soon as the hand off is made. I assume that my buck thirty eight will enter a cup that will accumulate enough change for a Big Mac. I assume that my smile and eye contact is pleasing enough. I assume I have done my job. Is this enough to please Jesus? And of course, I can't invite strangers into my suburban home because it isn't exactly mine and they never enter my suburban land. I donate my clothes to salvation army. Is that enough to please Jesus? Or does it even matter considering that I shop at Goodwill myself?

I also have to ask, who is Jesus refering to when he says, "these brothers of mine?" Does he limit charity to only Christians, or is 'a brother of mine' simply a human? Are the goats suprised because their charity doesn't count or because they never came across a hungry Jesus?

The next passage that haunts my sleepless nights is Mathew 26:24-25. It reads, "Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it...' " I try to lose my life, but I often find myself trying to save it like the drowning child who grasps desperately at thin air looking for an arm to pull him up. Is this really losing my life or is it searching for a comprimise as if to say, "Here you go God, I'll give you my life, but these are my terms."

Jesus died on His cross. How can I die on mine? I often wonder, how big is the cross? How much must I endure in order to consider my life lost. Jesus defeated death with his resurection. No task I can accomplish. It is Him who lifts me up as I try to subject myself to His will.

"But who ever loses his life for me will find it."

To Quote St. Augustine

"To whom am I narrating all this? Not to thee, O my god, but to my own kind in thy presence--to that small part of the human race who may chance to come upon these writings. And to what end? That I and all who read them may understand what depths there are from which we are to cry unto thee. For what is more surely heard in thy ear than a confessing heart and a faithful life?"

I take steps daily, that's how I walk. One foot in front of the other. I usually know where I'm going, but most the time I'm not sure why. Sure there's the pacing, which is always a problem. And the unfimiliarity of crowded rooms. I can walk a room full of twenty freinds and have no idea where I should stop walking. When my feet tire of that cherade I resolve to standing. Heck, I'll even sit if there's an empty chair. Maybe even smile and start up a conversation. I usually just drift from wall to wall. One foot in front of the other. Pacing without a clue why.

My specialty is finding a spot near the back, just close enough to take in the whole room. But not too close as if taking up the whole room. I'll lean back in my chair and inhale the laughter. Possibly even throw out a punch line, usually ignored, if I know most everyone. Which I do.

It's goal setting time

I'm doing it. It's official. As soon as I'm done reading The Screwtape Letters, probably tomorrow, I will read all of the bible. Cover to cover, aiming for chronological order, with an understanding of what it is I'm reading. That last part might make the minor prophets difficult, but let's see what happens. To make matters worse I'm aiming to slam this bad boy down in three months. Believe it or not, I have the time.

Life

They say life begins at thirty, or forty, or some middle aged moment when one stumbles across some sort of epiphany. That awe inspiring moment when you finally get it. "It" of course being so ambiguous that there really isn't much room for error. They say that your twenties are spent figuring out who you really are. Awkwardly walking through the daily routine hoping for discovery. Sipping on coffee cups or puffing at cigarettes, enjoying moments of depression and loneliness with pen in hand. Our whole life is in front of us and we stall. We haven't figured it out yet. We don't get it, and we won't for another ten or twenty years. That's what they tell us.

Is it possible they could be wrong? Do we delay the epiphany? Are we afraid of it? I am convinced I won't have to spend a decade staring at my watch before tasting whatever this life thing is. I am convinced that life has already begun. Life began at four when I bought my first popsicle and tried as hard as could not to bite at that melting hunk of ice. Life began the first time I held hands with a girl and she didn't pull away exclaiming, "This game is stupid, Miss Weaks, boys are gross!" This being no insult considering girls were equally disgusting. Life begins everyday, even if it begins with that annoying alarm clock buzzer. Life begins with the windows down on the freeway. Life begins when someone sneaks up behind you and you are forced swallow your heart and scream like a school girl. Life begins at birth, or conception, or somewhere in between depending on where you stand in the whole life/choice debate. Life begins when you can finally take off your shoes, wear your flip flops out at night, lose your breath laughing, or crunch leaves as you walk. Ladies and gentlemen, life has already begun. Why are we stalling?