A Story

I tried taking a nap today after a morning spent at the hospital.  It didn't work.  I was pulled to the out of doors.  

So I drove on empty.  Gambled with my tank.  And opened my windows like I was some fool starved of September's air.

(Longing)

I looked through my lens.  It's been a long time since I viewed the world in a box.  The horizon overbent the jetty.  The jetty kept captive sails and masts, all dropped and spent like the crunch my feet made over the first fallen leaves.

It's that time of year again.

Death will steal the trees soon.  But not until brilliant dawns unveil the worth of keeping the sun close.

(Foliage)

I would push the sun away, too, just to discover the beauty of life's last hour.  A time when all the world's finally come together.  When life has been life lived to the full.  When regrets are empty and all past hope is tangible.  When love finally finds her beloved: arms closed, wrapped round her.

(A-Still)

I tried walking around the world today.  I think it walked around me.  

Michael was outside Memorial Hall today.  Sitting with two other guys.  Old guys.  Said John's on the Cape.  Old man John's back in rehab, but I'm glad. At least he'll get a good shave there.  Some clean clothes maybe.  And the best part, he's got a home. Well, not a home like you and me got, but a place for him to rest his head at least.  Just for some September nights.  Away from the cold.

I took a picture of his bench today.  Old man John's bench.  Framed it with the two Churches behind him. But really, God is all that's behind him.  The Church failed that man.  But God's there.  God's with him.

(Bluesky)

I found a trashcan in a cemetery.  

I found trash on a grave.  

I found trash on the beach and watched the tide roll in.  Fascinating how even the waves cover what's not meant to be there.  But then even they make the same mistake as we do.  They litter again.  Pick it up when they come back in.  And forget it when they leave.

Oh! my apathy.  I didn't even take the stairs down to pick up that used cup.

(Waiting)

And you know, I sat and read my Bible.  It's the new thing I'm trying.  I want to read the whole Bible, you know?  Let's see how far I end up.

I noticed something cool during the first reading. So we're at this stage where God created the heavens and the earth.  Out of nothing might I add.  He brooded over this void before all time began.  Before you and me.  Before Michael homeless outside of Memorial Hall cursing some Father Bill and his practice.  Before all the trash.  When Creation was Creation without catharsis.  

Then in an instant God called it all to being.  I mean, the winds swirled.  The storms came.  The air cleared.  The calm came seven days later.  And here we are.

We are so far from these beginning steps.  And yet still so close to God.  You know, our closeness to the Divine will always be a mystery to me.  I have no clue how close our Heavenly Father is to us at any one moment, but I know He's intimate.

(Soclose)

And what I discovered today is His desire.  He desires for us to be with Him for all time to come. Whatever with the litter on the ground.  Whatever. Whatever with our cursing someone else's trying to help the good of humanity even if it means not letting an addict have his privacy because we all know our failings get the best of us when we're alone.  And whatever with all cathartic Creation. God sees past that and sees what He created:

You.

Me.

Love.

Life.

The birds.

Beasts.

Fish.

Mountains.

And the sea.

Then all the air between the heavens and the earth. In an instant quicker than we comprehend God can get rid of all that just to get with the one He loves. He sees past all the junk and still wants to spend eternity with us.

"You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die."

Look at what's left out.  There are two distinct trees mentioned in this Genesis account.  (1) The tree of life.  (2) And the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.  God only tells us not to eat of one.  

Guess I'll be going after life then.  Not sure about you.

Reading the Bible for the First Time in my Life - the Entire Bible

So...

I'm going to attempt what I think most Christians have not done yet in their life.  And that is to read the entire Bible.  So I'm going to flip to the back of my Bible and read in the schedule it presents. Then I'll see where that leads me from there.

I'm able to say that I think most Christians have gone without reading the entire Bible because, here I am, 24, I've been going to church all my life and I still have not read the Bible from back to front. That seems messed up to me.  

Generalization on Christians: yes.

Truth: maybe.

But nonetheless.  If you're a Christian and you're reading this and you haven't read the entire Bible from back to front and all that in between, then I will challenge you to follow along the readings with me.

-Greg

Kept Intimately Divine

My God,

Reflections in a sparkling canal

Dives diving in & out

Wakes awakening white russian

waves - 

I am drunk on Your grace.

Back - sitting back

Slipping lazy summer days

September's lack for Autumn clothes

Blues for black

Your treasure unfolds above

the treeline;

I found You close somewhere

below the skyline;

Propitiation broke all normal

timeline

You kept me close

Intimately

Divine

A Generalization (page 7)

And that to me is God being selfish with His love toward us, just like my love for Sorrel is selfish. God would go to the greatest lengths to see that His love is eclipsing you.  And that He did, by sending His only Son to be sacrificed in our stead.  

(Logic piece #1)

I'm going to steal a bit of that "selfish" definition and most likely misuse it.  But Webster's Dictionary says that selfishness is, partly, being too concerned with one's own interests.

(Logic piece #2)

In terms of God with us, we are His interest.  This statement of God's interest being humanity is, in and of itself, a crazy-hard  concept to understand.  I mean, out of all of creation we are His interest.  We blow God off all the time, yet He still takes interest in us.  We disobey His commands.  We write Him off saying He doesn't exist.  We claim Him as Savior, ask forgiveness of our sins, and still continue to crawl back to our vomit like a dog re-devouring that which we just defecated which God just cleansed us of and then seek forgiveness again.  When will we get it?  Yet God still claims us as His desire.  And he does more than that, He takes pursuit of us:

"For the Son of man is not come to destroy men's lives, but to serve them."

"For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which is lost." 

"For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved."

God died for us.  That is His pursuit.  That is how He pursues.  It's as simple as that.  I really want to expound on this pursuit idea right now, but I know I'd be doing it no justice.  I would be defying it's simple by complicating the situation with all of my rhetoric, which would proceed to fail at explaining this one life changing moment.

God came.

For us.

To save [us].

Conclusion: God's love is selfish for us.

A Generalization (page 6)

I had to skip out on church the other day.  I didn't like it.  Instead of making my way straight to work I took the long drive.  I let the windows down. September's morning chill was prevalent.  It woke me up.  I made my On-the-Go playlist avoiding veering into oncoming traffic.  

Impressive.

Then turned up the music:

"When all of a sudden

I am unaware

of these afflictions

eclipsed by glory

and I realize just how

beautiful you are and

how great your affections

are for me..."

The drive didn't  hold any traffic against me.  I barreled at my 50 like I was on the Daytona Speedway. The world felt faster for me that morning.  Maybe it was the Morning's dawn breaking the rain clouds so I caught its first glimpse even though I was hours late.  Maybe it was the concert level volume.  The fact that I was shifting hard and shifting high attempting to be that Nascar driver out for a Sunday morning drive.  Maybe it's the simple fact that all the world came together for me in those miles.

"I look out the window

The birds are composing

Not a note is out of place

or out of tune

I walk to the meadow 

and stare at the flowers

better dressed than any girl

on her wedding day..."

I could have drove cross country that morning. Skipped work.  Drove till my tank was empty.  Got on foot and walked the rest.  The destination didn't matter.  It could have been heaven or the slums.  Or the five-star life.  Or the ghettos.  Those options didn't faze me.

"God is my shepherd

I won't be wanting

I won't be wanting

He makes me rest

in fields of green

with quiet streams

Even though I walk

through the valley

of death and dying

I will not fear

'Cause you are with me

you are with me..."

The Lord was with me that morning, just as He always has been. 

Have you ever known the exhilaration of the Lord being with you?

The exhilaration of sinking in His grace?

The exhilaration of love, of His All-Eclipsing Love blinding your sight like oversized aviators giving you a new hue to wonder at life through?

That morning's drive was God's love eclipsing:

1. All I knew...

2. What I saw - everything: the three towns I drove through; the chasing clouds in the sky; the finding the sun's rays diving in and out of trees; God eclipsed all of it...

3. The routine of Church I had to break...

4. The air I breathed...

5. The prayers I sang...

6. And that maddening driver behind me not sure of whether he wants to ride my bumper stick a Driver's-Ed three car lengths back, or yell at his wife because clearly she was the navigator, he took a wrong turn, and they were lost.

I smiled and drove on.  His All-Lovingness didn't just eclipse Him that morning.  I was caught within that same orbit as well.  Even though I couldn't make it to church, the Reason I go to church was still with me. 

A Generalization (page 5)

Even His Almightiness is eclipsed by His All Lovingness.

Henry Alden published this profound statement in 1890.  Even God is covered by His love.  He is wrapped in this Divine Intimacy.  You can think of Him relaxing in His gargantuan recliner way up there among the stars smoking His Romeo y Juleitta whilst in His Sherlock Holmes smoking jacket, reading all the headlines before a roaring fire in His parlor. That smoking jacket, whether old man-ish or not, is love eclipsing Him.  

I know that's a horrible analogy.  I mean, how can a smoking jacket be a picture of love?  Asked by the kid who just got rid of oral cancer with smoking being one of two major risk factors for Squamous Cell Carcinoma.  But just go with it.  It's love, okay? It's love.

So again, God is relaxing after a Hard Day's Night with His love-bearing tobacco jacket, doing what he does so famously: resting in love and keeping up with your most recent antics.  We just have to find that scene and rest in love with Him conversing, intelligently I might add, about our most recent bog excursions with blankets under stars toasting Captains and throwing down the joys of friendships. Then merrily we strolled on into the night.  God would sit back and without saying an arrogant, "I know already" pushing us along quickly, He would sit back, smile and listen with the greatest intention of showing that He is here with us along every step.

Henry Alden said God is consumed in His own love. The essence of love is then overlooked for even more love.  

Layers.

Upon.

Layers.

A Generalization (page 4)

He is jealous for me

Loves like a hurricane

I am a tree

-John Mark McMillan

And I will be blunt here: God is selfish for our time, for having us, for intimacy with all of mankind.

Say it.  I know you're thinking it: "God can't be selfish.  That's like some negative human trait. That is the opposite of His Son's ministry, of His Son's dying on the cross for us.  No way."

For the past two years I have been courting Sorrel. You should have seen her jumping with sheer wild excitement that day Mike, Lauren and me pulled up in his bidi yet reliable Dodge Neon.  That little car had seen Mike and his lovely girl across the US like a modern day Oregon Trail, bringing them safely into a happy future.  Little did I know that car was taking me on the same loving journey with Sorrel.

(Okay, you can gag at "loving journey."  I just did and I wrote the thing.)

We all laughed at her excitement and I think Mike gave me the, "Are you really sure about this girl?" look.  And no, I wasn't sure at the time.  I had no clue that one night, one very cold January night, I would get down on one knee and rushedly say, "Sorrelwillyoumarryme?"  Present her with a ring. And stay weighted down to the ground by some nervous, "What will she say?" feeling only to see her jump with that same wild excitement after a "YES" showed in her smile and the way she embraced/jumped into my arms, and kissed me.

We moved quickly from our 2-week fling to the infamous realm of Facebook.  I'll spare you the details.  I was merely being my normal flirting self. That always either works to my advantage - ummm...an "Amen" to that in retrospect because I am now marrying a girl who could have ever only put up with me via God's divine grace - or my flirting nature gets me in trouble because I cruelly, yet ignorantly, lead the female genre on.  

So slap me on the wrist and say, "Naughty naughty boy" in a non-provocative and non-sexual way.  Oh well, I got the girl, right?

Then we moved onto the proper date thing.  

Then to the talk-on-the-phone thing every night even if it costs me $300 per month.  No lie.

And through something I can't even coin in words except with that cliche "love" diction, we stayed together whilst 3,000 miles away.

And over the course of our courting I have posted her numerous letters, but not as many as I would have wished.  Sent her the hundreds to Facebook messages since the internet offers such a high state of romance (this can easily be noted via Smileys; I'm a fan of Skype's It Wasn't Me face).  Talked with her until nothing was left to talk about.  Went the jewelry route of South Sea pearls, jade straight from China, a family heirloom and a complete spoiling of the girl I love.  

I have not loved her completely though.  That will only come after a lifetime spent together.

All that said, I am selfish with the love I keep for her.  I did all I knew and what I didn't know to win her over.  I let nothing come in the way of that victory.  Call it stupidity, but I used to shut off my focus in class and instead of taking notes, as I should have been, I was writing her letters. Professor Eisenhart definitely noticed.  Like all of the teacher race, I think he has a keen sense for someone's focus or lack thereof.  

I was consumed in this growing love for her.

Now take God with humanity.  Take God's love for the human race.  If my love for Sorrel consumed me, then I can't even imagine what His love for each and every one of us does to Him.

To be continued...

John Mark McMillan. "How He Loves." Rec. 28 Nov. 2005. The Song Inside the Sounds of Breaking Down. 2005. MP3.

A Generalization (page 3)

I am selfish for the Lord, for having His time.

I made a magazine for Sorrel last Christmas.  It took me more than two months to complete.  I would work on it at every free moment.  I brought the pieces to work so when I was on my 10-minute breaks I could write another letter, or touch up another drawing, or another collage, or snap at the end of another poem like I was at a reading.  I carried around pieces everywhere.  Even in church.  I'd write to her in church while I was surrounded by the most peaceful atmosphere I know on this earth.

(Hence, my justification for falling asleep so much in church because it's the best rest I'll ever get.)

The time of night didn't matter.  I'd brew my coffee and work on it till I fell into my bed at 2-in the morning.  I'd wake early to work on the project some more.

Do you get my point here?  I was consumed.

Because I loved her.

Selfless adj. 1 devoted to other's welfare or interests and not one's own; unselfish, altruistic 2 showing or prompted by unselfishness or altruism; self-sacrificing 

Love is both selfish and selfless.

I loved this girl so much that my time was spent on her.  She was 3,000 miles away.  The distance didn't matter.  Only what mattered was the simple smile I'd get on her face when she read the magazine.

I selfishly loved this girl where I was going to do whatever it took to win her over.  And I selflessly gave up those two months for her.  By project's end I had a 100 page magazine, handwritten, with scrap-booked photographs, magazine cut-outs building collages, and over 300 of those white washer ringed notebook re-inforcers that I tediously placed so none of the makeshift binding would fall apart.

She is my beautiful love.

And I would give anything for her.

Side note (below):

"Husbands love your wives as Christ loved the world and gave himself up for her." (Ephesians 5:25)

I have to think this is how God acts toward us.  It's a must in my thought-process: God loves me like I love Sorrel.  And I'd be doing His All-Eclipsing Love no justice if I didn't clarify this comparison by saying His love for humanity trumps any and all human love toward another.

Yahtzee. 

A Generalization (page 2)

It's almost as if we are trained to always want more. I'm not saying this because I grew up in an upper-middle class family where I'd spend weeks prior to Christmas going through the Macy's catalogue making my multi-page list and then moving onto the next catalogue.  I already told you, I'm one who's not content with what I have.  I've never been content. And guess what, for years I've heard the story that Christmas was going to be downsized.  That came of course, after I discovered that Santa was not real. 24-years going and it's still the same massive to-do.

Okay, okay.  Tag this selfishness, this whole me making a big long giant list of all toys and whatnots that will attempt satisfying every possible childish need.  But make sure you know the definition first:

Selfish adj. 1 too much concern with one's own welfare or interests and having little or no concern for others; self-centered 2 showing or prompted by self-interest.

I have to say, this definition doesn't fit.  My discontent for my lack of relationship with the Lord is not driven by a selfish desire.  And if it is, then I'm sorry for all you pious-stuck-in-your-way-thinking-and-acting church-going-people, but I will have to then admit this selfishness to be a quality we should all possess.  

I am selfish for the Divine.  I want to find that kingdom of heaven treasure.  I want to then marvel over it.  Then realize this is the greatest discovery ever.  Then gawk at it's sparkliness.  Shininess. Like bubble machines on the sidewalk where you get so distracted from all the norm whilst trying to capture every bubble in its perfectly bubble-shaped form.  I then want to hide it back in the field because, I am of course, selfish.  I don't want anyone to come along and stumble on the same massively awe-striking treasure because, who knows, they might steal it. Then what will I wonder at?  And to make sure no one can come along at any point in the future and take what I found, I will claim that land as mine.  I will proceed to buy that land.  I will make whatever purchase necessary.  I will sell all I own if needs be.  Even my brand new car.  I will put every pay check toward buying that place where that treasure was found.

I am selfish for the Divine in such that way.  Yet I do not act as selfish as I should about Him.  Thus my discontent.

This probably sounds like so strange of a concept for you: being selfish. Going against all we've been taught since our youngin' years.  

Never once have I been told in life that I should be selfish.  In fact, it's quite the opposite.  When we are pre-schoolers and kindergarteners we are taught to share.  If we don't share then we don't get rewarded with recess.  (Such a wonderfully simple, yet amazing bribe to put out there for a little kid: "If you share then you can explore the outside world within these fence gates.")  

Our inability to share at that level results in our failing and then repeating the grade all over again. "We have to share," our teachers tell us.  

If there was something I always hoarded back then when I was three-feet short, it was the blocks.  I loved building castles.  But I was never one to trample those wooden ant fortresses.  And I'd build them as high as I could.  Balancing block on block, accomplishing the most fantastic block-balancing feats Mrs. Lynch - my first grade teacher - had ever seen.  

"Pure genius," I say looking back on those block building years.

Man's greatest structures are built when he has not been made aware of the world he lives in: the beautiful cascading by catharsis; Creation inhabited by fallen grace-given man.  They are the greatest structures because then man lives out his days creating adventures and fairy tales, imagining life in the block castle he built.  The tangible feel of the blocks and the intangible feel of childhood dreams give man hope and memories he will never forget.  The challenge comes years later after disillusion has been tenderized into man and he must then find a way of breathing life back into those dreams.

A Generalization

We are all discontent in life.  Namely with our relationship to this Giant Divine Being who magnifies more light than the sun to earth.  

We go to church.  Two hours.  We leave.  Let's say we go to a Bible study too, but you know how that routine falls apart during the summer months.  

We attempt Christianity with our own thoughts, our own opinions, and our own ways of doing things. Hence the disgustingly long list of different sects of Church.

And I will say, we utterly fail at this Christianity thing.  Hence Christ, the entire point.

So we go about our days as best we can following God. That means all sorts of things anywhere from holding a quiet faith by way of loving our own family, to grabbing a bull horn preaching during the rush hour home.  And during any one moment we are pursuing the Divine.  And during any one moment we are displeased with our pursuit.

The discontentment with our faithfulness comes from a drive to be more Christlike, to do more in the loving service and name of Jesus, to know more since knowledge has been a very enticing gain since Adam and Eve's day; we are driven to love more intensely and with more intention because love is the greatest act of intimacy we human beings know.

I say we know love very loosely because I think we have yet to encounter the fullness of God's love in our lifetime.

This discontentment is the ignition in driving us to be intimate with the Divine.

to be continued...

What Hail's Got (page 14)

I say it like I'm putting God on a leash.  Like He's Lassie saving me whenever I'm in trouble.  And rather than me being a 50s Pleasantville picturesque dog owner, I kennel God for six days out of the week. And come Sunday, I let Him out like it's a treat.

"For one day," I say to God.  

"For one day a week You can be my God.  Oh, don't worry there Lassie-God" - God embodied coolest dog ever besides maybe Lucky from 101 Dalmatians.  

"Don't worry.  I will declare that you are my God every day.  And people," I say scheming like I'm about to take over the world, "People will believe that I'm a Christian, a Christ follower, a Church-goer, one of them Bible believing persons.  They will.  Don't worry.  They see me holding my tongue in the name of Christ.  They see me not drinking, for Jesus.  They see me being chaste until my wedding day.  They see my Republican vote. My throwing a dollar to the poor and hiding that the other bill in my wallet is a twenty, but that is a justified move because I don't know if this bum is a crack head or an alcoholic.  At least I'm not enabling his lusts. Oh, and Lassie-God, they see me turn red at the mention of genitalia or me turn away at the site of pornographic images even to the extent of shunning a girl who doesn't cover up her naval, knees, shoulders, or ankles." (Since those body parts would of course turn me on; Oh Quasimodo!) 

I go on preaching to Lassie-God like He isn't the God of the Universe since I am so much more pious than Him who created me.  "So Lassie-God, remember: we're cool now.  We have an understanding.  You can be my Savior for one day a week or whenever, say, I go onto those untouchable websites.  Or say, when I drink too much.  Or say, when I let my tongue go and all types of insensitivities fly out like any American service person robotically asking, 'How are you today?' when they really don't care for your well-being.  Those are the times you can be my Savior."

"Wait.  Scratch that.  Remember those Sunday mornings?  Yeah, you can be my redeeming grace from 10 in the morning till noon.  Only!  Not the entire day."  I had to clarify it for Lassie-God because I didn't want Him to get in the way of my other plans.

And I schedule my God like He is an event I attend once a week.

No.  That's not what's meant to happen.  And that's not what happened during those three Sunday services. But those Sundays are only three out of the near 1,200 I've lived through.  I'm not a number cruncher and you don't have to be either to notice that's not even 1%.  Not one single percent.

I'm telling you, Hail's got it.  She didn't let herself be content with that 1%.  And that I am jealous of.  Know what makes me even more jealous? She did something about her discontent.

Stunning.

Truly ravishing.  

What Hail's Got (page 13)

I bought a new cell phone - or "mobile" for the Brit's sake - two years ago.  It's falling apart on me now.  I've dropped it that one too many times, you know.  Sat on it almost everywhere possible.  I'm lucky the screen hasn't cracked or something like that.  Guess I have that flat bottom after all. (That revelation's a mood killer.)

And the phone barely holds a charge anymore.  You think it would be annoying.  It is.  But there is one cool thing about it though: I entered a greeting a while back on it.  Problem with that nifty feature is I'm one who doesn't turn off my phone too often. So I never really had a chance to be greeted by my phone.

Such a strange concept: a mechanical being greeting me, a human being.  Of course it took the parrot route and repeated what I input.  And thus I decided its fate.  My phone is a Christian.  It's really a one-liner preacher stuck on repeat for all of time to come till I junk the little pious bugger for a more sophisticated one-liner preacher.  But still.  It always greets me with:

God is an addiction, not a one-time hitch.

And this reminding-me greeting is of more use to me now than it ever has been before.  I don't remember the night those words came out of my mouth.  I don't remember where the idea came from.  But it is a glimpse into the quintessential me.  It is a one-line explanation into why I partake in such a pious-prude-almost-none-socially-acceptable-practice every Sunday.

"Hi, my name is Greg and I'm addicted to the Invisible Divine."  And like any addict, I couldn't allow anything to get in the way of the climax.  I need my highs every Sunday.  But that's only how it began.  Now I'm starting to give into this addiction day after day after day.

Come on, I went from once a week hits to driving an even longer distance to get to Hayley's on any day and any time slot because I think that girl's got it. She built a prayer room.  That's unreal.  But it's a great way for me to ditch out on the norms a 24-year routine - Church that is and let's not dwell on the fact that I called it routine.  The routine comes with my waking up each Sunday to make my way to Middleboro.  It's not the actual service being routine because if you experienced my church then you'd see it's far from routine as in typical Catholic, Protestant, or white-steepled church of any denomination.  And I like it.  A fan, remember?

The distance to her house doesn't matter.  Nor would a mountain bother me.  I'd still scale that heavenward land in order to find the Dealer...

You know, this is the corniest metaphor I've ever come up with, but it fits.  And I hope you don't mind the fact that I just related God to a drug dealer. Oh piety!  Oh the conservative-liberal wars!  Go ahead, say it in your squeaky "Oh my God I can't believe he just said that" voice.  It's cool. 

I said it.  And know what's worse?  Right now I can't help but think about that high school Top 40s Hit who's chorus sang: "I'm a-dick, I'm addicted to you." I bet you remember that Emo stage we all used to rock out to.  Come on.  That was the sweetest way of saying, "I love you" back in '03.  Sort of like last year's "I will possess your heart" creep-out way of proclaiming your deepest affections to a two week fling.  

But seriously, I'm a-ddic-ted to all attributes Divine playing out in my life.  Even after being diagnosed with cancer, I had to fill my addiction's (a.k.a. heart's) craving.

STORY TIME...

I went to church for three weeks before my surgery was scheduled.  And for three weeks I cried in my green chair pew.  Amber sang beautifully as she always does: "I love you more than life."

And if I wasn't standing at that point then I'd struggle to my feet.  Don't know how I did it.  Don't know how I rose up to sing that song each time it got played.  I must have found some reserved strength, some heavenly strength.  I don't know.

A cancer diagnosis sends you to the floor.  It's like all your insides decide they're going to have a gravity-driven race.  Your knees buckle, but your heart's probably falling faster.  Your eyes are confined to quarters, but they do what they do so naturally and cry when emotions run rampart. Hysterical cries.  All your energy's spent trying to control the weight of the world mudsliding out of your eyes.  Blinding whatever room you're in.  Your feet twist your own ankles like one part of the body is violently poised against the other.  In an instant you have 80-year old hips.  And your hands are drunk on emotion, confused.  Do they burry your face?  Or do they brace your fall?

Am I over-dramatizing this one minute of life?

No.

But somehow on three consecutive Sundays I arose to my feet to give adoration to the Lord.  And for three weeks I questioned whether I truly loved the Lord our God more than life itself.  I had the weight of a cancer diagnosis compacting me on every side, all walls pushing in on me.  And amidst all of that calamity I had to figure out if those were more than lyrics I was singing in chorus with the rest of the congregation.  

Were they truth for me?  

Was I really openly declaring to God that I loved Him even if this cancer killed me?

Was it in a fashion where it wasn't merely lip service?

I cried those three Sundays.  I could barely sing those lyrics.  Not for any other reason than tearing up and choking on my own breath.

In those three weeks my love for God solidified.  The concrete set.  Each Sunday God put my love for Him through a refining process.

What Hail's Got (page 12)

I have had to leave church early for the past two weeks in order to get to work on time.  I'm in that boat of not being able to wait around.  

I hate it.

I wait till the last minute possible.  And if I do end up arriving at work a few minutes late, then I'm cool with that.  Church is more important to me.

It's more than that though - church.  It's what those four walls offer.  It's what takes place inside those walls:

The beauty of God.

The beauty of community.

The beauty of worship.

Wrap all that, plus loads more of the beautiful, up into a well-trimmed, polished glass, cross-bearing sign with its most likely cheesy yet truthful block lettered message board, and you've got Church.

I am a fan.  I might not be the greatest fan of waking up early for Church, but after 24 years I am getting acquainted with that rising.  Now I have my coffee; it's all good.

I'm not sure of the longest time I've gone without Church in my life is.  You can think that Church is a habit for me.  Go ahead.  But my friend, if that's the case then this habit is a sustaining habit, a forgiveness-flooded habit, an all encompassed love habit; a habit displaying grace on a cross at the front of the auditorium, displaying grace in the wind on the first cool-air September morning like God is wrapping the entirety of Himself around your body; grace displayed in the way the sun is imprisoned behind the clouds, but you still know it's there; grace in the rain, rain on your head, drip dripping rain folding flower petals beneath the weight of a Divinely breathed life, and rain renewing what might have been summer's burnt.  So pick that flower as a reminder that God cares about all of His Creation.

If that, my friend, is the habit I am habitually attending like breathing to keep alive, then I'm cool with that.  And I will continue the Sunday morning service call.  This is me not being addicted to the raw ceremonies of a non-denominational church; it is me in pursuit of the Divine.

What Hail's Got (page 11)

I have never heard of anyone doing such a thing. There are ideas, movements, advancements made in life that make you say, "Wow, I wish I thought of that." This is one of those times.  Sure, I've sat through church services, been moved by the music, taught by the message, and been like, "This cannot end" during the prayer time.  

And so I've thought about ways of extending the two hour worship service.  

But alas - "gosh darnit'," "gee willikers," "freakin'-A" - all of my ideas seemed to come down to the one single fact of us living busy lives unable to even give up two hours of our time on a day off to give to the Lord.  Other than that, most of the time we are rushing out of church before the pastor has even finished the closing prayer.  

"Why can't church be longer?"  I've always questioned.  It's not only the question of me and why don't I enable myself to stay longer, but it's the community question: "Why don't we all stay a little longer?  Why don't we all make more time for God together?"

It's always bugged me.  And I'm not some oober-super (to be repetitive) - spiritual-Christ-like Christian. I've just always wanted to spend more time with God.

"Well, that's not me friend," you say.  Truth.  And I understand we're all built differently.  And I understand it's one of two days off for you.  You probably have errands to run and chores to do around the house.  Look, I have the greatest father I could have ever asked for.  And guess what...he's a workaholic.  Listen: he's the epitome of the "Provider."  If something needs to be done around the house, he sees it, does it, and never complains even if it's after two hours of commuting from an eight-hour day of work.  

Most of the time I shy away from cleaning up after the cats defecated on the bathroom floor since Tiger is probably too fat now to climb into the litter box. So I leave it.  Come home from work.  It's gone. Deduction: my dad cleaned it up even on his day off. I know it's a silly little poop story.  It's merely the tiniest of chores and things that need to be done.  But he even cleans up all that.  

Props pops, props.  You are truly the cat-whisperer.  

But come on, I see where you - the reader, the Christian responding to this blog, the guy who always leaves in the middle of the final prayer because you've got important afternoon lunch dates you must attend to -I see where you're coming from when you have those other things to do on a Sunday.  If you're that person then stick away from the 17th chapter of Jeremiah.  

(Yeah, that's just mean; sorry.)  

But seriously, I'd tear that page of the Bible out if you don't keep the Sabbath.  

(Sorry again, that was really cruel.  Blame it on a pissy mood.  Blame it on a blunt character. Write it off if you want.  But seriously, don't read it.  Stay doing what you're doing.  Trust me. Christian ignorance. Right?  Anyway.) 

But man, this is God we're talking about.  This is the One who bends over backwards to be with you. This is our treasure.  The kingdom of heaven.  This is what we need to hide back in that field so it is safe and not stolen while we figure out how to joyously sell all we have so we can buy that field securing our possession of that treasure for all of forever.