overproportioNATE

Exasperation - The second poem that I wrote this summer. Enjoy. I'm on borrowed breath for 26 years. Spent it all treading water. Or the exhaustion that comes, with the frustration of men who should be. I thought independence, would mean I don't need anymore. Yet I'm back at the well. For the 7th time this week. Still the sparrow flies unbothered. My overgrown problems, don't seem to seep past my window. So he'll keep soaring, And I'll keep roaring. Could we someday switch somehow? I'm sure the problems my gen has, are all the problems that we do. I've seen the churches they attend. Pretty sure I'd think God was dead too. There has to be something more. Because I've accumulated nothing, Worthy of my time, A quarter through already.

We're going nowhere, and it's happening fast, a dim future, and a darker past. Somewhere away from here, from past mistakes they often learn, at Fahrenheit 451, you close your doors and let it burn. Pharisees in the church, time to take a vacation. Pharisees think the world comes to them for salvation. -Five Iron Frenzy, Four-Fifty-One Sitting here in my Five Iron shirt, I like to believe that I'm not alone in my beliefs. We have a lack of interest in the salvation of others. We are willing to sacrifice the our own comfort. And so we throw generations of people to the dogs. Unbeknownst to us, we so seal our own fate. When the forgiven refuse to forgive, we haven't learned a thing. We haven't really learned a thing. We lock the doors, and burn up anything valuable at 451. Let us be a different kind of generation. A generation that sees people at more than bullies, sinners, homosexuals, and ruined. But as a field that needs watering. Un-churched are

I am not a good person. That sounds different coming out of the mouth. Prboably should be admitted to more often. You almost want to gulp that one back down your throat when you say it. Isn't that the first declaration a Christian has to make? Isn't that something we should be reminded of a little more often. I'm not saying in every case, I'm sure that there are quite a few people that would be hindered by going back down into that pit. But for someone like me. I need to be broken down continually. I need to be kept humbled and focused on more than myself. I am a bad person. I don't want anything good for anyone but myself. In my own mind, I want my friends to do well so that my experience with them will be better. I want to bless so that I might be known as someone who blesses. I am not a good person. Let it slip from your lips. And with it, remember again that all goodness flows from the river that has been built in you. Remember that we are incapable of good

I see you there, waving. It's been a long year for you, again. Long couple hundred years. You've been beckoning me to call you home for a long time. Waving every day. But do the people you call your own, deserve to live any better lives? Why do we deserve to make so much more? To purchase toilet paper. To get cancer through a pipe or through fake lights. Thanks for waving, I guess. Flag.

Marriage & Expectations I wanted to write down my theory on a big difference from dating to marriage, a change that I don't usually hear discussed. When dating, a boy and girl see each other for a couple hours each day that they have together. During that time, there's a lot to talk about. A guy can be very charming, interesting, and funny for a couple hours each day. A girl sees that in a dating relationship, and thinks, I can't wait for every day to be filled with this funny, charming, and very interesting boy. A boy sees that two hour time in a dating relationship as a wonderful time, probably the best part of his day. But he also knows that he can't be that funny, and that charming, and that interesting all day everyday. He hopes to still be able to maintain his adventuring (where he gets his stories from), and his alone time. They both enter into marriage with different expectations. The girl wanting to blow up that two hour time, and a boy wanting more

Leaves. They are one of the more fragile parts of a tree. And a tree can lose a few leaves, and be just fine. But it has a tipping point, after being stripped of enough leaves, a tree, rather than thriving, starts to wither and die. Aspirations. They are one of the more fragile parts of a man. A man can lose a few battles, and be just fine. But he has a tipping point, after being stripped of enough dreams, a man, rather than aspiring for more, starts to wither an die.

An idea dies, in the same slight way, that we lose track of the facts. Slowly, unseen, slipping silently, through some fabricated cracks. And now the freedom of the press, has turned to freedom to impress. Perfect hair, sells product well, like suffocating, sickly smells, the make-up smears, like false pastels, like glossy, sugarcoated, shells. -Five Iron Frenzy, Anchors Away Five Iron stopped caring [if they ever did care] about getting into politics. They went after whatever was wrong, which for me, is just fun, really. In the song "anchors away" they look at not just the danger of television, but also our willingness to buy in, and want more. I think every generation has wanted to feel that they are living in the worst times, or the most pivotal moments in history. We want to believe that we are on the brink, that everything is critical. We are willing to sacrifice a lot for that. Facts. Truth. The idea that the other side, whatever or whoever that is, might be right

I was looking through the lyrics of a couple of old Sixpence None the Richer songs, and was struck by some of it. In the song "Within a room somewhere", she writes about how God is within, without. That is a hard thing for us to accept. It has been romanticized at times that if YOU don't act, if you don't take that step of faith, somehow God's will won't come to happen. It is used as motivation. But God is within and without me. I have to live out of that strength, that He is in and involved in me. That He gives me power to do what I otherwise could not do. But I also must be aware that God is also without me. That He exists and operates through people I don't expect Him to, and He works in ways that are far beyond me. Both within, and without. And then in the song "Love, Salvation, The fear of Death": "all these gongs and cymbals ring inside my head surrendered body to the flames has singed the skin can't speak in tongues and ev

On why we need each other. Sometimes you need to write the things you'd rather not. A reasonable person has to go against himself more often than not. It is a conflicted life. There is an amount of invincibility that so many of us feel, going beyond even just explaining our lack of fear of death. But we can also feel that we can handle things on our own. It leads us into places where we stand alone, when we really would be much better off together. I don't like to admit that. When I'm tired I'd rather not say so. When I'm alone I want to [like everything else] keep it to myself. We need each other. Not because we will do more together [we will], or because it will make us feel less lonely [it will]. But because its the only way we survive, and its the only way His plan works. You and I need to remind each other why we fight the good fight. You and I need to be honest enough with each other to admit when we are running low. Not so that we can make it thro

I have a hard time distinguishing a selfish prayer sometimes. Is it selfish to ask God to make the grass on the other side, that seems so green, wilt? I hope for contentedness, anyone should. That isn't anything special about me. But I have a hard time ever achieving it. Life is poorly spent in defeat. It is the most needless moment. To lose is an important spot to sit. Failure is critical for any kind of growth. But defeat is a place that once can sit, can watch the grass that borders his own lawn. We can writhe in that for years, decades. I've seen it happen. It is a fruitless endeavor. It can look like martyrdom, and that is why its dangerous. It can look like Christ. And so it is replicated. This sick kind of sacrifice, made to a God I'll call the Self. So what can I pray for today?

Enough Its relative, but its also seemingly unreachable. I probably don't need to tell you that. But, one of my favorite passages from Perelandra, the great 2nd book from the Space Trilogy by C.S. Lewis, is when the protagonist, Ransom, stumbles upon a fruit. He consumes it, and it immediately satisfies his hunger. It is perfect. Juicy, delicious, and most uniquely, it is enough. He doesn't need another. It is the best thing he's ever eaten but he doesn't long for any more. His need is met in completeness. We all long for that. I find it to be incredible that Lewis even thought of this idea. We all want it, but there is nothing that we can find on this earth that satisfies us. We will find it on the other side of eternity. But over here, this looks much more like a good mindset than any kind of consumable. I hope to get closer to that ideal.

Oh my the terror. Imagine a world where everyone's on drugs. Original right? Oh wait, Weezer already thought of that in their song "We are all on drugs". Now, its not completely original. But their music video explores a world where everyone, the bus driver, a mother and daughter, city workers, a barber, and finally, a firefighter [who is reporting to a fire, but spraying water on the wrong house] is all on drugs. What a terrifying concept. Because most of the people that I've known took drugs because they didn't think it would affect anyone else. But if everyone went into a dilapidated state... ... Sometimes I get this same feeling in churches. As if we're all just pacified. Like there is a desire for something more, and every Bible study explores the first few steps to getting there. But we fall short of the whole "leave everything behind and follow me". We never quite get to the instruction to let the dead bury their own dead. I will live

We'd all love to meet a hero right? Maybe we'd be somebody if we had an afternoon with George Washington. Maybe I'd be a revolutionary too if Che Guevara had an opportunity to win me over. But I'm not ready to meet Him. I'm not worried that He'd grab me by my collar and throw me against the wall. I'm not afraid that He'd shake his head and walk away. I don't think He'd critique and criticize my every move for the last 26 years. I think He'd love me. Thats Terrifying. I would cry instantly. I would fall apart. I would want to hide. I would be so undeserving. He wouldn't ask me what I've been wasting my life doing, I would ask that of myself. It isn't his anger I'm afraid of. Its His love.

Imagine with me a boy who never lived up to expectations. A boy who was never told "good work". He never deserved it, but he also never knew the excitement of a job well done. He never had a taste of fulfillment. Might he never know that it could be worth it? Now picture a girl, unaware of dignity. She was never shown modesty, in any real and tangible way. She lived her life the way she saw it modeled. She never knew a touch that didn't want something from her. Now who holds the fault for her unending pain and hopelessness? It is not for us to hold anything against these people. Of course these are hypothetical situations. I like to believe that everyone that I run across knows right and wrong, or at least approximations. But what if everything that they have seen modeled, all of the negative, overways that little speck of grace that they have seen. What if it puts that little flame out? Then might they never know that it could be worth it? And who will hold the fault

Beautiful day, wonderful feeling, I feel like singing, psalms meaning songs singing praises all day long. Joy fills the weak, joy makes us strong. Filled 'till we burst, songs of praise to the God of the Universe. Despite our selfish selves, despite all loss of hope, despite our lack of faith, despite our stony hearts, despite the waning moon, despite the ebbing tide of how we think this world should be. -A Flowery Song, FIF Despite so much. The second verse goes on to describe a "gray rainy day" where we don't so much feel like singing praise, yet we are still called to sing praise. We are called to this for a few reasons. First, this life is a momentary light affliction. This life is a singular, this life is an opportunity. Tears will be wiped later. We are also called to this because we don't see the whole picture. We are called to this because we deserve so much worse. We are called to this because others will take notice. Despite our wishes, our walk c

I wrote 3 poems this summer, today I share with you the first: Forgotten Life is all the things we never do. Somewhere in the blood and dirt. Remember the call you never run to. Holding down this mangled earth. Won't someone tell me? That its still true, When I don't feel it? Won't someone scold me? That I'm off track, When I've forgotten? Death is a culmination of sorts, The fruition of pain and toil. Letting go of the sand that's fallen, through our fingers all the while.

Useful. We all desire that. Even if what we think we are is sleepy, or too busy, or bored. I love classes where I'm useful, when I can help a teacher. I love that knowledge that I have found a place, a niche for myself. We are called to be that kind of people. Creative enough to be useful. We have something in us, that desires to be more than inspiring, or creative, or funny. (And, obviously, those can be useful attributes). But we want to have a product. We want a result. He, would like for us to have a result. He calls it fruit. We go crazy without it. We seem to latch on to so many other things when we go without a product for a sustained amount of time. We start to feel that our cup is overflowing, and we have little to show for it. Do something. Thats what a lot of visionaries have asked us to do in the past. It needn't matter what. Something. Something good. Something useful.

New Beginnings. It was a wonderful summer. I got to do maybe half of what I intended to, but I saw many wonderful people, got to see a bunch of new country with my wife, and I feel pretty refreshed. I'll write more about it sometime, but its probably only interesting to me. But now I'm back, being handed syllabuses, rules, regulations. And kids that are still very much in need of an adult to listen to them. I'm ready for it, more ready than last year. But I'm also jumping back into the writing saddle. Writing isn't so much like writing a bike. I mean, my fingers can still find all the keys, but its different. But, on the bright side, that different may be better. When you ride a bike again, you may remember how fun it was to ride. I coasted down a few nice long hills yesterday, you remember how nice it feels, just as it was before. But writing is different, because when you go back to writing, it can be much better. The words meet the page better, sometimes.