Saturday, January 25


I want adventure in the great wide somewhere // I want it more than I can tell // And for once it might be grand // to have someone understand // I want so much more than they've got planned

"a strong desire to travel"

I've got a pretty severe case of it.

Mexico, Cambodia, Greece, Hawaii, New York, California, Alaska, Puerto Rico...
it seems like so many people that I know are either going to school in far-off places,
have traveled recently,
or are making plans to.

And it is truly sparking my passion for Cairo again.
I never really gave up on it or outgrew my excitement to travel,
but I want it more than anything again.

I want to travel.
I want to see the sights
and experience the cultures
and take in the views
and be immersed in the way of life so different from my own.

I want to get on an airplane
and for a little bit,
to be so completely independent.
I want to be out in the world
and traveling
and seeing
and experiencing.

I have in no way lost my desire, my gumption, my passion, my plans, by dream. travel...

Tuesday, January 14

goodbyes are hard.

I'm not related to her. I wasn't exceptionally close to her.
But her passing makes my heart heavy.

Lucy was to me an example of how I wanted to age; to grow old, but not to grow up.
She wasn't afraid to call herself old, but she had a child's heart and a childlike faith that was evident to all who knew her.
She had her priorities straight: God first, then people, then laughter. That woman, she knew how to laugh.
I'm blessed to be able to cherish a few inside jokes (Alyssa, Danielle, Claire...the ugly frogs? :).
She made everyone feel valued; she was selfless, empathetic, and supportive whenever anyone needed an ear or a shoulder.

I'm sure I'm not the only one with a heavy heart,
for we have all lost a godly woman of faith and a dear friend.

Saturday, January 11

Is Jesus an alien?

This is going to sound really random, maybe a little bit sacrilegious if interpreted certain ways, and potentially a little bit crazy. I'm aware of this. But just roll with me here.

Mr Prof, Dr. Cornell, talked in passing yesterday about how Jesus ascended with a human body. This means that, depending on your personal theology, we believe that Jesus is still out there in the flesh.
Kind of strange to think about, no?
So Dr. C hypothesized, albeit somewhat sarcastically, that maybe Jesus was out in the 17th dimension or hiding behind the no-longer-planet Pluto.
And that got me thinking.

Maybe He is.

I'm not saying that I believe that when we discover the 17th dimension, we'll find Jesus.
I'm not claiming that I know how to find God in the flesh.
But can you take me behind Pluto and to the 17th dimension to prove to me that He's not there?

Because somehow, in the complex and inconceivable thing called faith,
I have to believe that somewhere, right now, and in some way,
Jesus has skin on.
The gnostic way of thinking is wrong, because our bodies aren't prisons.
God took on human form  because it's worth redeeming,
He was fully human,
and I don't believe that He's shed his flesh.
He's coming back in the flesh,
bringing a very physical New Jerusalem.

So He's out there.

Maybe this Jesus is the closest thing I can believe in to an alien.
..and maybe, just maybe, I'm okay with that.

God in the 17th dimension
hidden behind the mass of Pluto
truth beyond fathom and proof
in"CARNE"tion : with meat
the God-man in the flesh
maybe drinking a Pepsi
amazed and in tune
so far away
yet full of personal interaction
with His chosen people
the little homo sapiens
back on planet earth

Thursday, January 9

/ˈsōjərn/ sojourn:a temporary stay

every so often you just hear a song...and you fall in love with it.
for absolutely no reason.
or does that just happen to me?

[Rich Mullins :: Land of My Sojourn]

and the coal trucks come a-runnin'
with their bellies full of coal
and their big wheels a-hummin'
down this road that lies open like the soul of a woman
who hid the spies who were lookin'
for the land of the milk and the honey
and this road she is a woman
she was made from a rib
cut from the sides of these mountains
oh these great sleeping Adams
who are lonely even here in paradise
lonely for somebody to kiss them
and i'll sing my song (i'll sing my song)
in the land of my sojourn

and the lady in the harbor
she still holds her torch out
to those huddled masses who are
yearning for a freedom that still eludes them
the immigrant's children see their brightest dreams shattered
here on the New Jersey shoreline in the
greed and the glitter of those high-tech casinos
but some mendicants wander off into a cathedral
and they stoop in the silence
and there their prayers are still whispered
and i'll sing their song (i'll sing their song)
in the land of my sojourn

nobody tells you when you get born here
how much you'll come to love it
and how you'll never belong here
so I call you my country
and i'll be lonely for my home
and i wish that i could take you there with me

and down the brown brick spine of some dirty blind alley
all those drain pipes are drippin' out the last Sons of Thunder
while off in the distance the smoke stacks
were belching back this city's best answer
and the countryside was pocked
with all of those mail pouch posters
thrown up on the rotting sideboards of
these rundown stables like the one Christ was born in
when the old world started dying
and the new world started coming on
and I'll sing His song (I'll sing His song)
in the land of my sojourn